Posterchild

It seems I've become the poster child for happilly divorced women. I'm currently in the throes of my divorce and it's never been as clear to me now why I choose to divorce this man. I have an amazing new man in my life who means the world to me. He is what my soul needs right now, though do I stop short of calling him my soul mate...(come on now, I've learned better than to call anyone THAT!)

I finally changed jobs which has also lifted my soul and spirits, I have my life back! It's always so important to find a job where the environment is supportive and you don't dread returning to on Monday morning. Life is just too short for toxic men, toxic work environments, toxic relationships. These are toxicities in your system you can actually control!

My girlfriends are telling me they miss me, my happy energy is something they want to be near. One friend who is going through a messy and painful divorce sees the end of the tunnel when she hears about my new man and how happy it can be after all. (Hey, the kids will need therapy like us anyway, even if their parents were "happy married") Others still have relationships outside their marriages in order to be fulfilled. Not something I would have done, but who am I to judge? I choose not too. I am only too aware of the pain of vacuuming up what's swept under the rug.

Wow. It's been over a year. Are you still listening? I've been told I've been missed...

Fast forward...I'm still withmy anti-type, Paul, and I have come to the realization that he is the man I was meant to be with. (I can't believe I just wrote that...). In April we celebrated our first anniversary and our feelings for each other keep growing stronger and stronger every day. He knows everything about me, I still have some things to figure out about him.

After almost 1 1/2 years together I have yet to see his apartment or meet any of his family members. We have talked about this, his only "issue", though it does leave a big question mark...I promised myself I would not live in denial any more, so I don't want to be caught off guard if it turns out he has dead bodies buried in his apartment. It's too cliched that he would have a wife. It's not that, I feel that in my heart. We share so much about each other's lives I trust this mystery will play out soon. I'm tired and I avoid.

Divorce papers are being drawn, finally. This sep-husband of mine is no longer a friend. Our lovely daughter graduated from middle school last week and on her graduation day, eagerly and innocently perused pictures in her father's camera, only to find pictures of his penis, in a state of, well, an erection. My poor innocent baby has never even seen one before, let alone witness her father's in that state. What a violation, disgusting and unacceptable behavior. That man is never allowed to step foot in my apartment ever...again!

My kids came with me to my therapy session this morning..

I'm tired, it's been one helluva week. I'll get back to you...missed ya!

love, mona

I'm back...I hope you're still there. I still love you.

I'm ashamed. I started this blog to share about my digruntled life as a single working mother and, I had thought, some cougar escapades, and what happens? I fall for the very first match.com guy I ever went on a date with who is the same age as me. What's with that? He's a professional suit-wearing man. Yes, the man I mentioned in my last posting..the against type dude.

This whole experience has brought old questions to mind. These questions are older than the hills. Life questions we have all contemplated.

"What is love?"...anyway??

When do I know I'm in it? Out of it? Is it just for money? Sex? Out of desperation? At least I know it's not for babies' sake, what with my thousand-year-old eggs (courtesy of dear friend, Mark, love you!)

Why do some people fear it? Why do some people search for it all their life the Holy freakin' Grail? I've always found being in love a pain-in-the-ass, actually. Particularly in my former 30-year marriage...there was love, for sure, passion and a lot of emotional pain. A LOT of it. Since day one.

I actually told the new bf I loved him last night. He's been sheepishly been telling me for a while. I avoided it until my therapist, who I LOVE, prompted me to say it as soon as I could (she knows how I feel about him) since the longer you wait the bigger the "word" becomes. She was SO right! There is simply nothing NOT to love about this man.

What it actually means, not sure I'll ever know. Kind of like answering the other question,"What is happiness?"

Please share your, "I love you!" , stories. And if you're going to tell me you said it while ejaculating, or bemoaning, "Don't stop...right THERE", you simply just don't count. I don't want to hear it...

lately I've been looking at the work "type" and it's true meaning. it is still being used to describe the action when we hit letters on our computer keyboards though I think the word was developed in the days when we actually typed on a typewriter.

actors are always seeking roles to widen and develop their skills that are against type, as masterfully as Meryl does. single men and women deny potential mates because they are just not their type. yep, that's where I'm going...

these dating websites are the ideal place to meet your anti-type. when I get a wink or message I equate it as a wrapped gift box. I see the message in my inbox and excitedly click to open or unwrap it, hoping that inside is a note and picture of the PERFECT man.( now those of us that have been around the block a few times know that I'm not meaning George Clooney, 'cause he really does not exist. some women may think they have a George Clooney, but they're just blind. he only exists safely in our fantasies...) needless to say, 98% of the wrapped gift boxes are filled with lumps of coal. twenty three year-old lumps of coal who are looking to settle down, third world country lumps of coal who propose marriage, and many, waaay too many, anti-types lumps of coal.

I quickly developed a more open approach. men without three heads,

five chins and Coke-bottle glasses, I actually take a quick gander at their profile.

the guy I mentioned last time emailed me first. again, not George, but there was something very honest, humbling and kind in his email. we did have a second date and as I sat across the table from him listening to him talk, I still wondered where, if anyplace, this would lead. I am experimenting with the anti-type for sure. he dresses like a suburban insurance salesman. he's not very tall. he owns three homes and two cars, one of them being a Porsche Boxster. nothing there is my type. he's kind, funny, and has his shit together. gross. where is the poor musician who needs help and a shoulder and wallet to lean on?

I am working hard at looking at my "type" and what joys it has brought me over the past fifty years. drama and pain come to mind a lot, and of course my two amazing daughters, of which I could not live without.

the children I am blessed to have, the drama and pain I am seriously considering giving up. look at Meryl's success with the anti-type.

oh, and one more thing, never underestimate the power of a kiss. I went for it when he dropped me off in his fancy sports car knowing this would be a sign to see if there would ever be a third date. there will be, since now the definition of my "type"seems more blurred than ever.

I did it. had my first date with a guy from match.com

he's no looker. decided to go against type. a very smart 24 year-old young woman advised me to go out with the "ugly" guys since they're nicer and more grateful. mean as it sounds, it's true. it also give you the upper hand. ok, "ugly" is a bit ruthless. it really means to skew lower. the stylish good looking gay man, he is not. brad pitt? nope. ed harris? hardly. ted koppel? now we're talking. good looking enough to be an anchorman but soooo not good looking. i think you get the picture.

his profile had a few good things going for it: he had pictures of adorable dogs (the breed I grew up with and loved...and coincidently ate off my face as a teenager) without having to hug them to show us his sensitive side, he wasn't showing his taut man boobs, he wasn't caressing a guitar, he didn't have his profile picture set in a halo special effect, and he didn't say he had a sense of humor. he did politely say he thought my profile was the most refreshing profile he had come across in a while and said if I didn't respond to him, that too would be fine. i liked him immediately.

he chose a fairly hip restaurant downtown and I could tell he was more nervous than I was. he was dressed in classic date clothes for an un-stylish straight man, navy blazer, button-front shirt tucked in his pants, he rested his overcoat on his forearm when I met him at the bar.

he said he was attracted to strong independent women. when I finally questioned him as to why we weren't sitting down to eat dinner, he eased up. when I said the menu was a "reading glass" menu he said he was glad I had said that as he reached out to get his. when I told him his dessert choice tasted disgusting he was in love.

Hello all!

it's been a while...here's a quick update:

1. I never cut my hair off

2. I signed up with match.com

3. I have yet to actually have a REAL-live date on match.com

4. I have really become one of those single people

5. I have gotten no where, essentially.

I have to say, though, that joining match has actually freed me in a way. I can chat with men, ok, even flirt with men and feel good about it. it does make you self-reflect on rejections too. the Daniel Craig look-a-like winked ME first, so why isn't he communicating with me anymore? The 41 year-old who loves "women of other cultures" doesn't respond to MY emails??!! I thought there were men out there who are looking for some cougar action...don't you see I'm putting myself out there for you??

Oh, yeah, there are guys that respond too, trust me. the white guy warrior with the pot belly and horizontal striped polo shirt, the guy whose pictures show him as a cameraman posing with random celebrities, the middle-aged man on the Harley. even a wealthy man, successful filmmaker, who lives in the Time Warner Center. and those were the good ones. wait a minute...people actually HAVE met on-line and ended up happily ever after??

what have I learned from all this? how much I love my friends...they rally behind me, give me LOTS of advice and take none for themselves, they make me laugh, they tell me I'm" hot", "pretty","smart", "beautiful", "a great mom", "an amazing person", "a great catch". my family and friends are what truly give me joy.

do I really need anything else?

you know...I really embrace the gross and unusual. I do. the grosser the story the better. tell me a bathroom joke or better yet, a personal tale of your bathroom experience, and I am rolling on the floor, crying my ass off. I am SO immature. proudly I can say my daughters have followed suit. one of my saddest days as a mother was when I had to tell them that farting and burping in public was just not acceptable. doesn't everyone do it, they asked?

many of you know about my christmas tree incident. every year, usually toward the END of january , when the tree is nice and dry, I throw it out my courtyard window. I climb out onto my fire escape as my two daughters push and pull the tree toward me in their work gloves. I suspend myself on my fire escape just so, so I don't find myself tumbling down with the tree. I give it a big heave-ho and over it goes. The girls and I have found it a cleansing ritual, our ringing in of the new year. getting rid of the old and welcoming in the new...we laugh so hard every year as they complain how crazy their mom is. they LOVE it!!!! this year I was busted by my downstairs neighbor whose garden was littered with those bastard needles that threaded the berber of my carpet, and her ivy! she left a nasty note over the mailbox saying "dear neighbor". the rest of the note was as about as nasty as it could get, given she is a God-fearing Christian. long story short, that weekend I brought her flowers and swept up the mess. damn, that was EXACTLY what I avoiding doing in the first place in my apartment.

yesterday, Princess emailed me saying she found a split end in her hair that "belonged in the Guinness Book of World Records". She actually stored it in an envelope and brought it home to show me like a 5-year-old doing show 'n tell. BTW, she is 19. she was so proud. i told her i'd seen better...

her sister, Queenie, has taken a liking to the of prying open of my eyes with her fingers in the morning when they are glued shut with sleep crust. she makes a sound with her mouth like a creaking door as she does it. how genius is that??!!

motherhood, WHAT a joy!!!