My Menopausal Musings

I was excited to see The Irishman and his daughter this weekend. To my surprise, he came over alone on Friday evening and called it quits. Despite my own fears and doubts, I confess I didn’t see it coming. “I just can’t,” he said. As it turns out, The Irishman’s steamer trunk is filled with rocks and is sinking fast. He is too overwhelmed to be in a relationship at the moment, so he wants to be my friend. What is our ‘relationship’? I was waiting to talk about it, to give it a name we both felt comfortable with; he had already named it, become overwhelmed and needed to rename it. I didn’t know it, but I had been dubbed ‘girlfriend’. His friends knew. He told his sister. He had even told his mother! No wonder his mother was eager to meet me during her short visit from Ireland last week. The Irishman brought his sister and mother over for tea. I made sure the house was sparkling and baked a picture-perfect apple pie. I loved meeting them and had a fabulous time. Before ...

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...

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...