My Menopausal Musings

The cyber dating world can be a funny place. This afternoon I received a playful (and a little bit forward) e-mail from a prospective date. When I opened his profile I knew in a second that it was someone I met 3 years ago. Our first date was not good, but I decided to respond. These things can take time. To my chagrin, he had absolutely no memory of having met. Good, bad or indifferent, I remember the most ridiculous details of life's smallest moments. I goaded him on. We exchanged a few e-mails and I supplied him with details of our meeting. Finally, the light bulb when off. He remembered! How could this quirky little man have forgotten who I was? What he remembered had nothing to do with my memory of our one and only date. He took the opportunity of my response to tell me how grand he had been and how awful I was. I have no idea how long it took him to compose his missive, but wonder why he bothered to expend the energy. I suppose I could have let sleeping dogs lie, but...

I had a great first date with The Irishman and things seem to be going pretty well. He’s fun, kind, helpful, hardworking, sexy, and he’s a single dad with more baggage than I could dream of having. In spite of his very heavy steamer trunk, I decided to climb aboard his ship and test the waters. Before I knew what was happening, I fell madly in love with his little girl. The first time her big blue eyes looked up at me as she hugged me and said, “I love you,” I was a goner. Of course, she is too young to understand that Daddy is dating. Frankly, I don’t think she should know. She still dreams of her parents’ reconciliation and The Parent Trap is her favorite movie. Of course that doesn’t stop me from fantasizing about him grabbing me in his strong arms, telling me he can’t live without me and whisking me away to his precious Emerald Isle. I have asked myself over and over again whether I would have continued to see The Irishman if I hadn’t fallen head over heels with his daugh...

Once again, I’ve got my eye on the prize. I am focused. My mother would say that I’m ‘on the prowl.’ I say that I am looking for the last great love of my life. I have begun to date again. About a month ago the Wino, a wine importer, asked me to join him for a drink. I agreed to meet him and gave this date a quick twenty minutes – just long enough to sip a glass of wine and decide whether or not I wanted to meet again for a full-length date. The bar he selected was dark but homey. We had just enough time for him to tell me how wonderful he was and to regale me with his vast knowledge of wine. I was a bit concerned that I didn’t get a chance to really get a good look at him in the low light and then realized that the light was probably more than flattering for me. There certainly wasn’t a spark, but as I ran out the door I agreed to meet him again for another date. The Wino diligently called and e-mailed for 3 weeks until I agreed to meet him at a museum. I had been on my feet a...

I love that you guys follow my blog and my dating exploits. I especially love those of you that have bought my book, I Thought I Grew Up . Something you may not know about me is that, while I'm waiting for Hollywood to call and beg me to turn my book into a movie, I sell real estate. Here's a little bit about me ;-)

I have been working on a series of articles on how to date on the internet. I've been dating on line for ages, and God help me, I'm back. As I began to re-enter the dating pool I thought I should take a bit of my own advice. I've been taking stock and decided I'd share what I've learned. Here's the first in the series on How to Date on the Internet: Getting to the HEART of the Matter . I look forward to your thoughts on this mad world I once again find myself a part of. Michelle xxx

Last year, after a very long absence, the Real Scientist was back in touch. Spurred on by the release of my book and hearing me on the radio, he called and asked me out to lunch. I hadn’t heard from him in ages, but was delighted. We met at a bistro in Hell’s Kitchen and had a lovely time. Neither of us was at a loss for words. I confessed that he had a chapter in my book, and happily the conversation continued rather than coming to an abrupt end. Our date was followed by several lengthy phone conversations. We made plans to meet again and he sent me a charming birthday e-card. I was beginning to believe that there was real chemistry with the Real Scientist. During our date he had alluded to health issues, and in one phone conversation he discussed his surgery although he never disclosed what the issue really was. We continued to make plans and then suddenly he disappeared. There were no more calls. There were no more e-mails. Typically responsive, the Real Scientist seeme...

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...

Round Three has been very disappointing, but all is not lost. Faux 60 Year Old Man resurfaces and joins the roster. I am incredibly happy to hear from him. During this period of time he makes contact on several occasions and I am delighted. When he is with me he is kind, smart, thoughtful and vulnerable about personal issues that are impacting his life. I don’t want to be, but I believe I am smitten. I truly enjoy his company even when we aren’t having earth-moving aerobic sex. He couldn’t be more inappropriate or unrealistic or wrong for me. Even worse, each time he resurfaces I realize that I have actually missed him. I cannot deny that it is true. The encounter is more than fun, but his youth is beginning to annoy me, especially how he communicates – only via e-mail. The menopausal synapses finally connect and I realize that he has all of my contact information but I have none of his. Not everyone spends their life on the web. I am sure other women are receiving yellow roses, but he...

Then there were a few freaks thrown in. Thank God most of the on-line dating services allow you to initially communicate anonymously and to block unwanted attempts at communication. Then they come pouring in. There are a couple of flirtations that seem as though they might go somewhere. It was still too soon to tell. Then along came an entirely different kind of flirtation. He was cute, fair and younger than springtime. He began with what seemed like a sincere question about my on-line profile. He wondered if I truly loved dinosaur bones. Many e-mails were anonymously exchanged. We only have the information we have chosen to share about each other and what is supposed to be a recent photo. I wonder why he likes me and I ask him why he has chosen to flirt with a woman so much older – he is only 36. Is he typically attracted to older women? He says I am beautiful. And so the instant messaging conversations begin. The first one is more than flirtatious but does not cross the line. He is f...

Within 48 hours the first viable flirtation came in. He was about my age, attractive, similar career path but, having a penis of his own, still gainfully employed in the business world. It seemed right. I was optimistic. After the exchange of several e-mails we agreed to meet for a date. I was nervous. It had been so long since I had been on an actual dinner date that I wasn’t sure how to act. I’m a 48 year old woman and it was necessary for a girlfriend to come over to help me pick out what to wear. A couple of hours passed modeling possible outfits and working on hair and makeup. I was beside myself. My girlfriend suggested a drink but I decided it would be wrong to be drunk at the beginning of my date. I considered taking a valium but decided that could end badly as the evening progressed. I decided that a smart cocktail upon arrival at the restaurant would ease my nerves enough and if it was really that bad, I would just skip dinner and come home. My makeup was perfect; my hair loo...