THANKSGIVING AND SINGLE
11/25/2015

Matisse, "Interior with a Violin."

Last year, I reposted a funny Facebook meme about having to explain why one was still single and Charles Manson was not. This year, it's not funny. I feel like I'm done with men. Don't get me wrong, I still imagine what it would feel like to hold a man, massage his back and neck, sway in a sexy dance to the music we both love after making dinner together... but the reality has kind of smacked me in the face. It ain't gonna happen. I've been alone for two years. That's the longest I've gone without a man in my life since I was in high school. After my last disappointment, I just can't make the effort. Sure, I've met a few men who intrigued me and seemed to be interested. But it wasn't enough. Is there something wrong with me? I don't think so. Experience has taught me that I am an object of desire at first, and a liability after a period of time. My first husband used to say, "I love you, too, but not with the same intensity." Sweet. My next husband was never actually a husband. He refused to get married. I proposed several times and he refused every time. My last boyfriend, if you can call a sixty-one year old man a boy, finally told me he never thought he could be someone's "mate" ever again. Nice. Men are babies. You want me? Let's talk. But don't expect me to devote my life to you, if you cannot devote your life to me. Am I angry? Yes, I guess I am. But that won't last forever. The anger is dissipating into something more amorphous. I've taken to shrugging and saying, "What the fuck, who cares?" I love my friends, male and female. I love my daughters and my family. I love my little home, and I love my career. I am grateful for the people who have come and gone. I am grateful for the good people I have yet to meet. And that's enough. How sweet is that? Let's be grateful for what we have. It may not be what we expected, but it's the gift we have been given. I am grateful for this quirky, unexpected, delicious, and beautiful life. Let us appreciate our inner lives, and our outer experiences. See you out there... Happy Thanksgiving. 
~ cfd

You know the story of Job; he's a prosperous and righteous man. God tests his faith by sending Satan to do his worst - disease, boils, poverty, the death of his children. Job stands up to it all. So, there I was, kneeling in front of the toilet, cursing my bad luck - a badly broken foot, melanoma surgery, and now an illness that drained me of all dignity and joy. I shook my fist in the air and, like Scarlet O'Hara, swore, "With God as my witness, I will never eat solid food again!" Needless to say, it was a long night. About 4:00 am, I woke up on the bathroom floor, shaking so hard from dehydration that my head had cracked on the tiles. I pulled myself up to the sink and tried cupping my hand under the faucet for a few sips of water. That didn't go down well, so I crawled on hands and knees back into bed feeling alone, sad, and sorry for myself. I wrapped my warm feather comforter around me, fluffed up my favorite pillows, and asked myself, "Dammit, could it get any worse?" Oh, Colleen, look around you! Half the people on Earth would long for just one night in this luxurious bed with your feeble little list of complaints.

Of course it could be worse, but it isn't. I am not Job. This shaking is not Parkinson's. My shaking will go away in a day or two. My children are healthy and happy. Tomorrow, the boot comes off my injured foot to be replaced by a stylish post-op shoe. I'll be strolling through life again soon. And my melanoma has not metastasized, so I don't have to undergo chemo or radiation, which would make me this nauseous and sore for months. In my agnostic fashion, I am blessed. My faith in the beauty of this life gifted to us, and in the power of love, has been restored. And, God, if there is a God and you're out there listening... Um ... You can skip the boils, okay? 
~ cfd
11/5/15