Keck of Questions

This past week has been kind of a blur ... but in the midst of it all I did have time to get frustrated ~ shocking, I know! Late yesterday afternoon I found myself surrounded by married folk. Now, please understand, I love my married folk. I find myself at ease in their company, laughing with them at their new adventures and dramas, and perhaps I am even inspired by them to get over the issues I claim as my own. But let's be honest, some friends ~ bless their sweet hearts ~ want so badly for that inspiration to multiply by a million and then WHAM!!, Kas and whoever as Mrs. and Mr. Kasi French ... it's sweet. But after about a half an hour of inquiry regarding the current situation, another fifteen minutes of inquiry regarding my feelings about their 'potential friends', and another fifteen convincing me it would all be for my good in the end ... I WANTED TO SCREAM!

CLARIFICATION: Someday, maybe sooner or perhaps later, I will be okay with the whole idea of tomorrow, next week, next year and the next fifty with someone else at my side who I do not call Dad.

For now ... I would just like you all to realize that I could be this girl ... (courtesy of Amy Cohen, The Late Bloomer's Revolution): It wasn't that I had so much free time; it was just unlike my married friends with children I had very little to show for it. In fact, if I added up all the time I spend setting up the first date, choosing what to wear, meeting for drinks or dinner or coffee or brunch, coming home not sure I was into him, but wanting him to call anyway, getting the call, anticipating the second date, choosing what to wear again, going on the second date, deciding I kind of liked him, going on a third date, deciding I really liked him, going out a few more times, fantasizing about our bike trip to Italy, getting more serious, feeling happy to be alive, wondering if things were getting weird or whether it was just my imagination, obsessing over why things didn't work out, chastising myself for not trusting my instincts in the first place, loosing a week or four to mild then extreme depression, slowly feeling better, vowing to forge ahead and not getting jaded, starting the whole process over again, I could have gotten my MD. Read all of Proust.And written an apera.In German.Twice. Thats what I wanted to say when these women asked me what it was like to have so much free time.

...But I'm not. I have other things going on. So if I don't jump up and down eager to meet your guy-that-is-just-so-perfectly-perfect-for-Kasi, don't be discouraged. I could be the the girl that shows up on your front door step every Saturday morning mourning over the last guy-that-apparently-wasn't-so-perfetly-perfect-for-Kasi. Instead, I'll just make some calls for Barack, continue with writing, watching your kids when you have an emergency young women's activity, and loving you for your patience with this all to fickle friend.