HERE’S TO YOU, MAYA ANGELOU

HERE'S TO YOU, MAYA ANGELOU

I planned to write “Part Two” of the “Matchmaker, Matchmaker…” post, where I signed up for Michelle’s fall dating boot camp ’cause I wasn’t getting any younger and felt I’d never get it right, this dating crap, then dropped out ’cause fall was three months away and I kept getting older, and Michelle sensed my frustration and wanted to help me now, so she sent me a relationship questionnaire to answer with a question to give three or four family members (Mom) or friends (G, J, and L) to answer HONESTLY and email to her alone, which they ALL did, fabulously supportive humans that they are, and I mostly did ’cause they’re tough questions that required rehashing shitty times and I tired of reliving it, plus Michelle thought meeting for a long lunch tomorrow was preferable to a phone consultation and reading my run-on sentences about how I basically married my dad.

Then something happened the 43YOV did not expect–a man showed interest in her and something she wanted to do, so they’re doing it together one night this week. He suggested a favorite cafe, too. She liked that idea, talking and people-watching at a table for two on a warm summer evening.

I promise myself, no expectations. Just be me because, according to a dear, possibly drunk friend: “YOU are enough!! YOU are a powerful..beautiful..goddess of compassion and dare I say kick ass sense of humor. Motherfucker should be glad to have dinner with you and to have his stethoscope polished:)” Oh, did I mention he’s a doctor? An atheist, liberal doctor. Yeah. How’d that happen?

I have a date.

 

Lack of communication is unhealthy.

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