Tuesday, November 14, 2006

Real Tears

I cried for the next two days.

The night The Bartender left I cried myself to sleep. When I woke up the next morning I cried because I could still smell him on the pillow next to me. I couldn’t seem to get dressed so I thought a bubble bath would make me feel better. I surprised myself by the sound of my own sobs as they echoed against the bathroom tile – the same bathroom where he had lovingly washed my hair as we showered together. My cries came from a place so deep inside that I cannot even describe it. My sorrow is physical and I am consumed by it.

I finally got myself out the door and into my office. The phone rang and it was The Bartender. He called to see how I was doing. I had asked him not to call. He said he wouldn’t call, but there he was on the phone saying he missed me and talking about how his day was going. I barely got through the rest of the day. My tears would spring forth for no reason at all and I didn’t know what to do with them.

I reached out to girlfriends and I think they felt almost as helpless as I did. Was it possible that it had taken me this long to actually fall in love? I have never told my friends I loved him. I never told him I loved him. I never even told myself I was in love with him. Was I really in love? I hadn’t been compelled to say it. Neither had he. But, it had been years since I cried over a man. In fact, it had been so long that none of my girlfriends had ever witnessed it. In all the years I have been around to live and love, to the best of my recollection I have only cried such bitter tears twice before.

Thursday, November 02, 2006

More Hot Flashes

Between the next rounds of dating was a little more down time than usual. It wasn’t just me; everyone was spending less time on personal matters and turning all attention to politics and the war. It seemed as though my hot flashes were running as hot as the political debates. The hot flashes were never ending. I was not sleeping as well as usual. I wake myself up in the middle of the night because I am wildly ripping the clothes off my body. I am alone. I am just hotter than hell. It’s unbelievable. I am finally comfortable and drift back off to sleep only to awaken because I am so cold that I must get up to retrieve the duvet from the floor. Months of practice have enabled me to strip and merely throw the duvet to the side for easy recovery. My sleep is interrupted a bit less.

Friends are considering hormone replacement therapy to subside their hot flashes. Others are talking about herbal teas and tincture of sage. I am not ready to go there yet. While I am occasionally uncomfortable, I remain unconcerned by the changes happening in my body. In spite of all that is going on, my libido is higher than ever. As a result, my gynecologist suggests that unless I am too uncomfortable or having trouble coping with the changes that are happening why should I screw with a good thing. I applaud his turn of a phrase and happen to agree with him. I may change my mind in the next six months, but for the moment, I prefer to focus on the thing that makes my hot flashes disappear.

Sex.

Even just thinking about sex makes my hot flashes subside. The real problem is where to find sex. In spite of the fact that I have had a couple of encounters over the last few months, what I really want is something on a more regular basis. I have not yet met a man that I think is worthy of relationship status.

My hot flashes now dictate how I dress. I have to rethink how I dress for everyday life. After much discussion with girlfriends over issues relating to fashion, we decide that none of it matters. Damn fashion. Layers are the only answer. All that matters is that we can dress in layers. Layers enable us to change clothes throughout the day as often as our temperature dictates. Even the changing season and temperature drops offer no relief. I have discovered that I can be hot and cold at the same time.