In my twenties, this whole meeting guys, dating, and coupling seemed to happen easily and organically. Was it because I was too young and naive to be picky? Has age and life experience elevated my expectations to impossibly high? Are there simply less available men in the forty to fifty age range? Has on-line dating ruined authentic connections and courtship? Or do I just suck?
Every day I'm in awe of this new teach/write/love adventure I'm living. I never tire from the heat of the sun or surprise sun showers followed by magnificent rainbows. I'm constantly soothed by the calm blue sea and the wash of tranquility it gives me even when gazing at it from a distance. And I love how the night skies are so filled with stars that I'm completely unafraid of post-sunset walks with my dog.
ADULTERY. Oh, that’s a definite trigger for me. The word itself has a way of summoning hurtful memories of lies, betrayal and infidelity in my former marriage. It’s like reliving the erosion of my spirit, self-worth, and confidence as a sensual being.
Some might consider it the most intrusive first date ever. Others, the foundation for intimacy. We'd barely even introduced ourselves before probing deeply into each other's lives with questions like: What's working versus not working in your relationships, career, lifestyle or health and fitness goals?
If Brene Brown lived in my head, perfectionism would no longer hinder my productivity, stifle my creativity or inhibit my vulnerability. The little voices in my head that insist "I'm still not good enough" would miraculously disappear.
I want it all! Yep, not only do I wanna have a passionate, loving and respectful relationship with the man of my dreams; but I want a financially lucrative career built around my own creative self-expression. I want to indulge all of my senses in a life of curious exploration and adventurous play while traveling the world and knocking stuff off my bucket list one at a time.
For the first time since my separation and divorce, I've finally connected with someone who gets me. I feel like I've just had an intimate, 257-page conversation with Gabriel Cohen, author of "Storms Can't Hurt the Sky: A Buddhist Path Through Divorce". We commiserated over the pain we've felt from being abandoned by our EXes without forewarning.
Let's face it. Dating is complicated. At least for me it is. After all, I haven't dated since the turn of the century. And now that I'm "back on the market" I'm facing singlehood as a "cougar" in a world where Match.com and OkCupid have replaced the more traditional approaches of making a love connection. Add to that, my emotional baggage from unsuccessful past relationships, including a failed marriage and the stigma of divorce. HELP! So I turned to the wisdom of stand-up comic, Steve Harvey, in his book "Act Like a Lady, Think Like a Man".
My marriage ended the year that "Vicky Cristina Barcelona" was released and I was convinced that both Spain and Javier Bardem were my true destiny. I romanticized about running away to Barcelona, re-inventing myself and falling into the arms of my new Latin lover. We'd spend our mornings making love, afternoons making art and, in the evenings, slip into a cozy Spanish bar for wine, tapas and live guitar. Cut to: 3 years later and I'm still single and living in NYC. And although far less romantic, I've found a new Latin love called El Taller on the Upper West Side of NYC.
There’s never been a Coelho book that didn’t both entertain me and serve as a catalyst for reassessing my thoughts on topics such as love, courage, faith, freedom or forgiveness. (A true Gemini, I always love a man that stimulates my mind).
A true Indie Girl, Elizabeth Gilbert chronicles her experience with divorce, rebound, a broken heart, travel, adventure & self-discovery.
Whereas I used to be fascinated by self-help books, my literary taste has taken a sharp turn for memoirs about women with conservative backgrounds who become tantalized by the underworld which leads them into double-life scenarios and coming-of-age journeys that awaken themselves to their authenticity. Jillian Lauren’s personal tale is no different.