Monika Basile's Blog: Confessions of a Bleeding Heart, page 4
April 5, 2013
One in a Million
I don’t want to date me.
I want to date someone who is different than me. Someone who might open new worlds up or at least make the conversation a bit more exciting than talking to myself. I want to date someone who has similar core values but is not all the same things I am. I don’t want to be in competition with my potential mate.
Of course, it is important that dating couples share some common hobbies and interest. It is important to have things to discuss and talk about and activities to share together. It’s a good idea to maybe like some of the same music or be able to enjoy a movie together—to like certain things our mate likes. However, we do not have to be clones to share a life together and enjoy our time together.
By the urging of my dear Aunt, whom I have written about before, I joined a dating site she suggested. “Monika, you need to try something new because what you are doing is just not working for you.” So I did as she suggested and figured I would give it a whirl. I filled out the profile and answered all kinds of questions, I submitted picture after picture that they kept rejecting for a variety of reasons I could not comprehend and wound up with one where I look tired and bewildered. (hmmm...maybe that in fact is the most accurate photo of me) and I took their test—their test that was supposed to match me up with my ultimate match.
I decided to be utterly honest and mark the little boxes with the truth—even if the truth wasn’t always so pretty and if my opinion was not always so acceptable to others. I kept thinking that if I want this to truly work I need to be real about it and not fudge things to make me look better or worse—I needed to just be me. I anxiously awaited the results, well not anxiously but with curiosity. The results were most surprising.
No Matches. No matches pending. Ta da!
I stared at the screen stunned. I actually was near tears. How can this be? There are over eight thousand men in my surrounding area on this site and I am not a good match for any of them. How is that possible? No matter how much I do not want to date my clone, how can there not be a lone soul somewhere similar to me in the least? There isn’t, at least according to computer gadgetry. This is not even a new
One day, while fooling around with my profile on another site, I hit the little box that said, “”View your profile as others see it.” And I did. Then I hit the little box saying, “See other profiles like this one.” Hmmm, I thought, I wonder who they compare me with? No one. That’s who they compared me with. That’s who is similar.
“Monikablahblahblah is one in a million. There are no other profiles like hers.” I almost wonder if that was a kind way to say I am bizarre.
I am sure some of you are thinking GIVE UP ALREADY, but I’m not and I won’t. I may not find one of the ones who will be my potential life sharer on a dating site. I may not find him in the grocery store or at the library or at work or in a multitude of places people meet. But I will find him. I might even be surprised and he will find me. I am sure there is some interesting man in the world looking for me—the woman who was labeled “One in a Million”.
Monika M. Basile
I want to date someone who is different than me. Someone who might open new worlds up or at least make the conversation a bit more exciting than talking to myself. I want to date someone who has similar core values but is not all the same things I am. I don’t want to be in competition with my potential mate.
Of course, it is important that dating couples share some common hobbies and interest. It is important to have things to discuss and talk about and activities to share together. It’s a good idea to maybe like some of the same music or be able to enjoy a movie together—to like certain things our mate likes. However, we do not have to be clones to share a life together and enjoy our time together.
By the urging of my dear Aunt, whom I have written about before, I joined a dating site she suggested. “Monika, you need to try something new because what you are doing is just not working for you.” So I did as she suggested and figured I would give it a whirl. I filled out the profile and answered all kinds of questions, I submitted picture after picture that they kept rejecting for a variety of reasons I could not comprehend and wound up with one where I look tired and bewildered. (hmmm...maybe that in fact is the most accurate photo of me) and I took their test—their test that was supposed to match me up with my ultimate match.
I decided to be utterly honest and mark the little boxes with the truth—even if the truth wasn’t always so pretty and if my opinion was not always so acceptable to others. I kept thinking that if I want this to truly work I need to be real about it and not fudge things to make me look better or worse—I needed to just be me. I anxiously awaited the results, well not anxiously but with curiosity. The results were most surprising.
No Matches. No matches pending. Ta da!
I stared at the screen stunned. I actually was near tears. How can this be? There are over eight thousand men in my surrounding area on this site and I am not a good match for any of them. How is that possible? No matter how much I do not want to date my clone, how can there not be a lone soul somewhere similar to me in the least? There isn’t, at least according to computer gadgetry. This is not even a new
One day, while fooling around with my profile on another site, I hit the little box that said, “”View your profile as others see it.” And I did. Then I hit the little box saying, “See other profiles like this one.” Hmmm, I thought, I wonder who they compare me with? No one. That’s who they compared me with. That’s who is similar.
“Monikablahblahblah is one in a million. There are no other profiles like hers.” I almost wonder if that was a kind way to say I am bizarre.
I am sure some of you are thinking GIVE UP ALREADY, but I’m not and I won’t. I may not find one of the ones who will be my potential life sharer on a dating site. I may not find him in the grocery store or at the library or at work or in a multitude of places people meet. But I will find him. I might even be surprised and he will find me. I am sure there is some interesting man in the world looking for me—the woman who was labeled “One in a Million”.
Monika M. Basile
March 22, 2013
My Date With Fifteen Men
Meeting someone for the first time can be something that can cause me to shake in my boots a bit. But I am brave, and I do so anyway. It is difficult enough to wonder what they will think, what I will think, what we will think without also wondering what a crowd of others may think. But as I said...I am brave.
We had agreed to meet for a drink. He would be having dinner with a buddy coming into town and I was teaching a self defense class. We would meet after each event and after I could change my clothes and run a comb through my hair. And then I receive a text, “He is running late, would you be interested in joining us? Unless you are too scared...”
I responded, “I am NOT scared.” and agreed to it because sometimes I just cannot turn down a taunt like that. Except I was scared. It is hard enough to be in a sense on display for one let alone for two to decide if I muster up to their expectations. I know it really isn’t any big deal . You meet and decide if you like each other a bit or decide you don’t and continue to carry on. However, it still unnerved me a bit.
I realize while I am driving there, that I probably won’t recognize him due to him only having one picture on his profile and that being a an actual profile. Looking at someone straight on looks different. At stop light I send a quick text saying I should be arriving in five minutes and to wave at me or something so I will know where he is. Instead, he is standing near the door speaking with another man and smiles at me. “Hi. Our tables over here.” He leads the way and continues, “My buddy isn’t here yet but will be here soon. I’ll be right back.”
I sit there waiting, wondering if I am sitting in the spot he chose for himself because his phone is laying on the table. Wondering if he is former military and needs the spot I am sitting in which is with my back to the wall as I have noticed most men in the military want their back against the wall in a public place. I am peeling back conversation in my head to figure it out as I wait. He comes back with two men and looks nervous, he introduces his buddy and his former boss. “Uhhm, I’m sorry, this is unexpected...my old boss and some of my old co-workers are here. They would like us to join them if you will.”
I feel like a deer caught in headlights. I am sure I look terrified. I whisper, “Would you like me to just go? I mean it’s okay, I don’t want to intrude...”
He grabs my arm, “No, no don’t go, it’s just...is it okay to join them? I didn’t plan this...”
I take a deep breath and figure why not? On the way to their area (I had not seen their section yet) he says, “I’m really sorry...” and then I turn to the section and see fifteen men or more scattered among the tables. “The conversation may get a bit geeky. We are all engineers...” He stands me at one end of the tables and finds me a chair while introducing me. I am completely out of my element and intimidated by this amount of testosterone in one small space. I am the only woman here on top of not knowing a soul--including my date.
And yes, the conversation he called “geeky” sounded like everyone was speaking French to my ears. I am a fairly intelligent person, yet, this was like sitting in the midst of an episode of The big Bang Theory. The men are a variety of ages and from all over the country. All are brilliant but stop a moment midstride to cheer the Blackhawks scoring and to then turn the conversation to my Elvis purse to somehow include me in their reunion.
My date, Mr. Bit Of A Genius, apologizes again, “It’s all so unusual...but I’m glad you stayed.” I am too because I think I learned more about him on this odd first date than I have ever learned about any man on a date. I learned that despite strangeness popping up, he could adjust and so can I. I learned he was well respected and liked by his former colleagues. I learned that though I had no idea what any of them were talking about, he attempted to make me feel comfortable and draw me into the conversation and he didn’t ignore me. I learned that he is funny and quick to laugh and treated the people around him well.
A few days later, he invited me out again. I had to ask, “Are you bringing fifteen men with you this time?”
He responded, “Do I need to?”
Monika M. Basile
We had agreed to meet for a drink. He would be having dinner with a buddy coming into town and I was teaching a self defense class. We would meet after each event and after I could change my clothes and run a comb through my hair. And then I receive a text, “He is running late, would you be interested in joining us? Unless you are too scared...”
I responded, “I am NOT scared.” and agreed to it because sometimes I just cannot turn down a taunt like that. Except I was scared. It is hard enough to be in a sense on display for one let alone for two to decide if I muster up to their expectations. I know it really isn’t any big deal . You meet and decide if you like each other a bit or decide you don’t and continue to carry on. However, it still unnerved me a bit.
I realize while I am driving there, that I probably won’t recognize him due to him only having one picture on his profile and that being a an actual profile. Looking at someone straight on looks different. At stop light I send a quick text saying I should be arriving in five minutes and to wave at me or something so I will know where he is. Instead, he is standing near the door speaking with another man and smiles at me. “Hi. Our tables over here.” He leads the way and continues, “My buddy isn’t here yet but will be here soon. I’ll be right back.”
I sit there waiting, wondering if I am sitting in the spot he chose for himself because his phone is laying on the table. Wondering if he is former military and needs the spot I am sitting in which is with my back to the wall as I have noticed most men in the military want their back against the wall in a public place. I am peeling back conversation in my head to figure it out as I wait. He comes back with two men and looks nervous, he introduces his buddy and his former boss. “Uhhm, I’m sorry, this is unexpected...my old boss and some of my old co-workers are here. They would like us to join them if you will.”
I feel like a deer caught in headlights. I am sure I look terrified. I whisper, “Would you like me to just go? I mean it’s okay, I don’t want to intrude...”
He grabs my arm, “No, no don’t go, it’s just...is it okay to join them? I didn’t plan this...”
I take a deep breath and figure why not? On the way to their area (I had not seen their section yet) he says, “I’m really sorry...” and then I turn to the section and see fifteen men or more scattered among the tables. “The conversation may get a bit geeky. We are all engineers...” He stands me at one end of the tables and finds me a chair while introducing me. I am completely out of my element and intimidated by this amount of testosterone in one small space. I am the only woman here on top of not knowing a soul--including my date.
And yes, the conversation he called “geeky” sounded like everyone was speaking French to my ears. I am a fairly intelligent person, yet, this was like sitting in the midst of an episode of The big Bang Theory. The men are a variety of ages and from all over the country. All are brilliant but stop a moment midstride to cheer the Blackhawks scoring and to then turn the conversation to my Elvis purse to somehow include me in their reunion.
My date, Mr. Bit Of A Genius, apologizes again, “It’s all so unusual...but I’m glad you stayed.” I am too because I think I learned more about him on this odd first date than I have ever learned about any man on a date. I learned that despite strangeness popping up, he could adjust and so can I. I learned he was well respected and liked by his former colleagues. I learned that though I had no idea what any of them were talking about, he attempted to make me feel comfortable and draw me into the conversation and he didn’t ignore me. I learned that he is funny and quick to laugh and treated the people around him well.
A few days later, he invited me out again. I had to ask, “Are you bringing fifteen men with you this time?”
He responded, “Do I need to?”
Monika M. Basile
March 8, 2013
The Wishing Well
Sometimes I am not a very big person. I like to think I am kind and generous. I like to think that my norm is to be forgiving and understanding. No one is all the time. We are human and we fail at perfection most moments of our days.
I look back on my past relationships and I see I have not always been good at an ending. My thoughts and my feelings and my spirit is sometimes too angry to allow the better things to shine through.
I recall a recent ending, not too recent and not too distant, but close enough that I still think on it. There is a single moment in the ending that I do not regret. Only in one of the moments did I shine in and none of the others.
We had been arguing—Mr. Music and I. This is not something I did or do well. I am not good at sustaining any type of argument as I usually shut down with embarrassment or fear of saying the wrong things and hearing the wrong things thrown back at me. Yet, here I was, arguing—loudly and shamefully acting the fool.
“I don’t know why we were ever even together. You are absolutely nothing I ever wanted!”
And Mr. Music, “The sound of your voice makes me want to jump out of this car!”
It was furious and bitter and hurtful. However, the horrible things we said to each other were painfully true. I pulled the car up to the train station; I felt like I couldn’t get away fast enough as I was seeing various shades of blinding red. I am sure he felt the same as he opened the car and began to stand as we threw our last parting shots out in the humid summer air. Except—I looked at him then and everything changed and I grabbed his hand tightly.
“Why are you even touching me?” he yelled.
“I wish you well.” I whispered.
“What?” Mr. Music looked stunned.
“I wish you well. I wish you every happiness. I wish you the best life possible. I wish you to connect to someone truly and to love and to be completely loved how you need.” and I let him go.
He stood still, with the car door open, staring at me, “I wish you well. I wish it for you too.” and he turned and ran to catch the coming train.
Did we get back together? No. But it mattered.
I think about all the times I have said good bye in my life and mostly, I can’t imagine in that moment of parting that I want the best for anyone at that time. I don’t think it’s quite common to be able to do so in the beginning of the heartache. Maybe we can say it later, after we have stepped away and healed some.
If we care about someone, if they meant something to us, if we loved them—we should wish them well. We can’t always do so in the moment but eventually we should be able to.
Not that I intend to have or want to have many more good-bye’s or even more good-bye’s at all, I only hope I can stop for a second and whisper those same words and mean them as I did that morning. They were the only words I didn’t regret speaking. They were the only words that I didn’t mind hanging there between us.
Monika M. Basile
I look back on my past relationships and I see I have not always been good at an ending. My thoughts and my feelings and my spirit is sometimes too angry to allow the better things to shine through.
I recall a recent ending, not too recent and not too distant, but close enough that I still think on it. There is a single moment in the ending that I do not regret. Only in one of the moments did I shine in and none of the others.
We had been arguing—Mr. Music and I. This is not something I did or do well. I am not good at sustaining any type of argument as I usually shut down with embarrassment or fear of saying the wrong things and hearing the wrong things thrown back at me. Yet, here I was, arguing—loudly and shamefully acting the fool.
“I don’t know why we were ever even together. You are absolutely nothing I ever wanted!”
And Mr. Music, “The sound of your voice makes me want to jump out of this car!”
It was furious and bitter and hurtful. However, the horrible things we said to each other were painfully true. I pulled the car up to the train station; I felt like I couldn’t get away fast enough as I was seeing various shades of blinding red. I am sure he felt the same as he opened the car and began to stand as we threw our last parting shots out in the humid summer air. Except—I looked at him then and everything changed and I grabbed his hand tightly.
“Why are you even touching me?” he yelled.
“I wish you well.” I whispered.
“What?” Mr. Music looked stunned.
“I wish you well. I wish you every happiness. I wish you the best life possible. I wish you to connect to someone truly and to love and to be completely loved how you need.” and I let him go.
He stood still, with the car door open, staring at me, “I wish you well. I wish it for you too.” and he turned and ran to catch the coming train.
Did we get back together? No. But it mattered.
I think about all the times I have said good bye in my life and mostly, I can’t imagine in that moment of parting that I want the best for anyone at that time. I don’t think it’s quite common to be able to do so in the beginning of the heartache. Maybe we can say it later, after we have stepped away and healed some.
If we care about someone, if they meant something to us, if we loved them—we should wish them well. We can’t always do so in the moment but eventually we should be able to.
Not that I intend to have or want to have many more good-bye’s or even more good-bye’s at all, I only hope I can stop for a second and whisper those same words and mean them as I did that morning. They were the only words I didn’t regret speaking. They were the only words that I didn’t mind hanging there between us.
Monika M. Basile
February 15, 2013
Ahhh, the smell of it....
His headlights blinded me in the parking lot. He was taller than I expected. Walking into the restaurant I could smell him. That awful smell. I try to explain to people that I have always been ultra sensitive to pheromones since as long as I can remember though when I first noticed it, I didn’t know that was what they were called. The smell knocks me out and distracts me. I know it is ridiculous but it is something I can’t help and something I can’t change unless I suddenly lose my sense of smell.
I can’t even describe the odor which has nothing to do with B.O. Freshly showered, it is simply the underlying scent of skin. Something that truly nauseates me. And I know in the first moments, there is no chance, because I cannot kiss someone I can never get close enough to kiss. What is worse, is when a man wears beautiful cologne and I can’t smell it until that very first gentle kiss. That is a terrible thing. How can I possibly say to someone, “Sorry Sir, but the smell of you makes me want to vomit...” How do I explain that? And yes, that has happened to me more than once.
At least this time I knew right away. It was difficult to sit through dinner with this man who couldn’t take his eyes off me, this man who told me how much he wanted to make a good impression, this man who seemed very nice. I seem to clam up on these occasions. Words are beyond me.
The other side of the coin is those men who smell wonderful to me I have difficulty resisting even if they are wrong for me in other ways. The good smell gets me in trouble as much as the bad. The last man I dated made me dizzy with his scent. I smelled him standing behind another man who was talking to me it was so strong. I didn’t get in trouble from it, simply hurt because I didn’t notice anything else at the time.
A lot of people will tell me I am being ridiculous—that it isn’t fair to not give someone a chance who is perfectly wonderful just because of the smell factor. I just don’t see how I can even try to have a relationship with a man I can’t stand to be close to and sends my own skin crawling with repulsion.
Science is unsure about pheromones in humans. They agree there is something in a woman’s tears that will turn a man off. But an actual sex pheromones among our species is not quiet proven.
Except with me.
I am proof but science hasn’t been introduced to me yet.
Monika M. Basile
I can’t even describe the odor which has nothing to do with B.O. Freshly showered, it is simply the underlying scent of skin. Something that truly nauseates me. And I know in the first moments, there is no chance, because I cannot kiss someone I can never get close enough to kiss. What is worse, is when a man wears beautiful cologne and I can’t smell it until that very first gentle kiss. That is a terrible thing. How can I possibly say to someone, “Sorry Sir, but the smell of you makes me want to vomit...” How do I explain that? And yes, that has happened to me more than once.
At least this time I knew right away. It was difficult to sit through dinner with this man who couldn’t take his eyes off me, this man who told me how much he wanted to make a good impression, this man who seemed very nice. I seem to clam up on these occasions. Words are beyond me.
The other side of the coin is those men who smell wonderful to me I have difficulty resisting even if they are wrong for me in other ways. The good smell gets me in trouble as much as the bad. The last man I dated made me dizzy with his scent. I smelled him standing behind another man who was talking to me it was so strong. I didn’t get in trouble from it, simply hurt because I didn’t notice anything else at the time.
A lot of people will tell me I am being ridiculous—that it isn’t fair to not give someone a chance who is perfectly wonderful just because of the smell factor. I just don’t see how I can even try to have a relationship with a man I can’t stand to be close to and sends my own skin crawling with repulsion.
Science is unsure about pheromones in humans. They agree there is something in a woman’s tears that will turn a man off. But an actual sex pheromones among our species is not quiet proven.
Except with me.
I am proof but science hasn’t been introduced to me yet.
Monika M. Basile
February 1, 2013
Friends Without Benefits
I am concise in my explanation of what I want and feel I need. I want to share my life and not waste my time. I appreciate those who respect that and move along when they know that we want very different things.
When we are dating, I don’t believe it a waste of time to maneuver around each other , or in and out of each other’s lives to figure out if this “works” or is something that maybe has the chance to be wonderful. That is what dating is for. That is the reason we get to know each other, spend time together etc. It is the reason behind divulging our private lives and thoughts and hopes and dreams.
It is strange though, how few people do actually respect that and take advantage of our hopefulness. I wonder how naive I must still be or how damaged my “picker” has become to not be able to detect the ones who are merely pretending. It is not only men who do this to women, women are just as bad to men. What I cannot seem to comprehend is the “why” of it. Why?
There are so many people out there who are looking for a friends with benefits thing or a hook up. I don’t even find this wrong as long as both parties agree and are upfront about it. Why not stick to those who want the same? Why drag in those who want the exact opposite? What is this game and does it somehow bring them a sense of accomplishment or fulfillment to pull a fast one on another?
Pulling the old switcheroo is a small person act. It is the action of a coward and swindler. It’s simply wrong. Truly wrong and I am not afraid to say it. There is a huge difference between having second thoughts, changing your mind and outright being deceitful. If you know what you don’t want, why pretend you do? What is the point of that?
Sex.
I know it is all about sex. There is nothing wrong with sex. I love it and sometimes wonder if God created that wondrous activity just for me. I am not—nor have I ever been a prude. I just don’t want meaningless sex with someone who means nothing to me or someone I mean nothing to. Sex is so easily had now for both men and women there is no reason to use anyone.
We should not be biding our time. We shouldn’t be hanging on to someone as we wait for someone better to come along. We shouldn’t have fillers to fill up our days or nights. We are humans. We have some modicum of control that there shouldn’t be any misunderstanding. There really should not be any need for the lies.
What is everyone so afraid of? You begin to date, get involved in a relationship and sometimes it works and sometimes you get hurt. Why is that so scary? How will we ever know what joy we can possibly have with someone if we are too yellow bellied to allow ourselves to experience them? We need to be brave while life is happening all around us.
Monika M. Basile
When we are dating, I don’t believe it a waste of time to maneuver around each other , or in and out of each other’s lives to figure out if this “works” or is something that maybe has the chance to be wonderful. That is what dating is for. That is the reason we get to know each other, spend time together etc. It is the reason behind divulging our private lives and thoughts and hopes and dreams.
It is strange though, how few people do actually respect that and take advantage of our hopefulness. I wonder how naive I must still be or how damaged my “picker” has become to not be able to detect the ones who are merely pretending. It is not only men who do this to women, women are just as bad to men. What I cannot seem to comprehend is the “why” of it. Why?
There are so many people out there who are looking for a friends with benefits thing or a hook up. I don’t even find this wrong as long as both parties agree and are upfront about it. Why not stick to those who want the same? Why drag in those who want the exact opposite? What is this game and does it somehow bring them a sense of accomplishment or fulfillment to pull a fast one on another?
Pulling the old switcheroo is a small person act. It is the action of a coward and swindler. It’s simply wrong. Truly wrong and I am not afraid to say it. There is a huge difference between having second thoughts, changing your mind and outright being deceitful. If you know what you don’t want, why pretend you do? What is the point of that?
Sex.
I know it is all about sex. There is nothing wrong with sex. I love it and sometimes wonder if God created that wondrous activity just for me. I am not—nor have I ever been a prude. I just don’t want meaningless sex with someone who means nothing to me or someone I mean nothing to. Sex is so easily had now for both men and women there is no reason to use anyone.
We should not be biding our time. We shouldn’t be hanging on to someone as we wait for someone better to come along. We shouldn’t have fillers to fill up our days or nights. We are humans. We have some modicum of control that there shouldn’t be any misunderstanding. There really should not be any need for the lies.
What is everyone so afraid of? You begin to date, get involved in a relationship and sometimes it works and sometimes you get hurt. Why is that so scary? How will we ever know what joy we can possibly have with someone if we are too yellow bellied to allow ourselves to experience them? We need to be brave while life is happening all around us.
Monika M. Basile
January 25, 2013
The Myth of Meant to Be
I have been hearing a lot of, “If it’s meant to be it will happen without you looking.” And “If I were single again, I think I would rather be alone and to myself. I wouldn’t want a relationship.”
Not true. Not true at all.
If that were true, you would not be in your relationship now. If it was much more exciting to be alone and doing it all alone—you would be. If life with your mate were so terrible you would not be with them if you were as strong and capable as you say you are.
It is easy for someone to say, “I would just be alone and enjoy myself.” When they aren’t and rarely have been. It is easy to talk that talk when you haven’t walked that walk. It is easy to say it and much harder to do.
There are wonderful things about being single. There are joys in being single. I am not denying that in the least. There can be a lot of freedom , and sometimes that very freedom can also chain you in. When there is no one to answer to, to decision make with, to give a damn about what you do, we can strangle ourselves with our freedom. It is easy to think that being single is an episode of Sex in the City when you have no one to be responsible for but yourself. Everything can then be about you, Yay, that’s wonderful—but that isn’t my life at all.
For those who are attached and say it, try doing it. Try thinking about relying on no one but yourself and the choices you make. Think about when you second guess those choices in the dead of night and you turn to the space next to you and say, “Did I do the right thing or not?” and the pillow is silent. Think about being alone in your grief as well as your joy—no one to share both the good and the bad. Everything is handled solely by you. You learn to do it alone or you give up, but just because you learn to adjust does not mean you like it. I have realized how strong and decisive I really am yet many times, I wish I didn’t have to be.
When you have no choice but to carry on by yourself, it becomes much less glamorous. The grass is not always greener on that other side and if it is, it’s because I am in full charge of the lawn care with no one to help me and I’m exhausted too. Being alone is manageable, it is tolerable but it is not an easy thing and it is a constant challenge. And sometimes it’s just plain lonely.
The “if it’s meant to be it will happen” I actually believe that. However, I very much doubt the universe will drop my ideal love through this second floor apartment roof into my living room while I’m watching reruns on my cable-less TV. I am thinking I need to be out in the world for that to happen. I am not ashamed to be actively seeking someone to share my life with. I don’t feel anyone truly finds someone when they are not “looking”. I don’t believe that anyone who wants to have someone in their lives is actually closing their eyes to all the potential mates around them while they are waiting for it to just happen.
They are looking—even when they say they are not.
If they weren’t, then they would not be open to the experience when it showed up. They would pass it by without even knowing it. They would miss out on it. I don’t want to miss out on any opportunity by closing my eyes. Heck, I may even stop blinking.
Monika M. Basile
Not true. Not true at all.
If that were true, you would not be in your relationship now. If it was much more exciting to be alone and doing it all alone—you would be. If life with your mate were so terrible you would not be with them if you were as strong and capable as you say you are.
It is easy for someone to say, “I would just be alone and enjoy myself.” When they aren’t and rarely have been. It is easy to talk that talk when you haven’t walked that walk. It is easy to say it and much harder to do.
There are wonderful things about being single. There are joys in being single. I am not denying that in the least. There can be a lot of freedom , and sometimes that very freedom can also chain you in. When there is no one to answer to, to decision make with, to give a damn about what you do, we can strangle ourselves with our freedom. It is easy to think that being single is an episode of Sex in the City when you have no one to be responsible for but yourself. Everything can then be about you, Yay, that’s wonderful—but that isn’t my life at all.
For those who are attached and say it, try doing it. Try thinking about relying on no one but yourself and the choices you make. Think about when you second guess those choices in the dead of night and you turn to the space next to you and say, “Did I do the right thing or not?” and the pillow is silent. Think about being alone in your grief as well as your joy—no one to share both the good and the bad. Everything is handled solely by you. You learn to do it alone or you give up, but just because you learn to adjust does not mean you like it. I have realized how strong and decisive I really am yet many times, I wish I didn’t have to be.
When you have no choice but to carry on by yourself, it becomes much less glamorous. The grass is not always greener on that other side and if it is, it’s because I am in full charge of the lawn care with no one to help me and I’m exhausted too. Being alone is manageable, it is tolerable but it is not an easy thing and it is a constant challenge. And sometimes it’s just plain lonely.
The “if it’s meant to be it will happen” I actually believe that. However, I very much doubt the universe will drop my ideal love through this second floor apartment roof into my living room while I’m watching reruns on my cable-less TV. I am thinking I need to be out in the world for that to happen. I am not ashamed to be actively seeking someone to share my life with. I don’t feel anyone truly finds someone when they are not “looking”. I don’t believe that anyone who wants to have someone in their lives is actually closing their eyes to all the potential mates around them while they are waiting for it to just happen.
They are looking—even when they say they are not.
If they weren’t, then they would not be open to the experience when it showed up. They would pass it by without even knowing it. They would miss out on it. I don’t want to miss out on any opportunity by closing my eyes. Heck, I may even stop blinking.
Monika M. Basile
January 18, 2013
Every Minute
Time is the most valuable gift we can give anyone. It is the most precious thing truly, and I think sometimes we fail to realize it or discount its importance. It is free, yet priceless, easily had yet hard to find, it is a single way to allow someone to know exactly how you feel about them or don’t feel about them.
In this world of modern technology the typical excuses no longer fly. It is easy to reach out for a moment and pull someone to you or push someone away. We can no longer say, “Sorry, I’ve just been busy.” (though still we say this and assume people believe us) because it only takes three seconds to send a text, a minute or so to make a call and a minute more than that to send an email. We don’t need to figure out an algebraic equation to realize that out of 1440 minutes in one day, that we do not have three seconds to say, “Hey.” Or in a weeks’ time, out of 10,080 minutes, we cannot find five to call or write. (and yes, I did look that up online because numbers have never been my forte)
NO ONE is that busy. Not even the president. Definitely not me either though I am guilty to pawn off with excuses of the same. We are liars to even say it. We are fools to even believe it when it is said. We still say it. We still accept the excuse. Not all of the time, but enough of the time that it affects us and those around us.
Our time here is short and hopefully it is also sweeter rather than bitter. Nobody wants to be an afterthought. Nobody should be. The people in our lives should be foremost in our thoughts and considerations of how we spend our time. We shouldn’t be wasting our time or anyone else’s time. We don’t have it to waste at all. We can’t expect anyone to wait around for us if we are miserly. We make time for those who are important to us. If we have not, then we have shouted to the heavens that they mean close to nothing even if they are not listening.
We should be holding simple moments as if they are made of little diamonds and we really should have an abundance of jewels in our boxes spilling over into every day. We should be draping those who are important to us in our strands of diamonds. And we should be glad to give them our biggest treasure—our time.
Monika M. Basile
In this world of modern technology the typical excuses no longer fly. It is easy to reach out for a moment and pull someone to you or push someone away. We can no longer say, “Sorry, I’ve just been busy.” (though still we say this and assume people believe us) because it only takes three seconds to send a text, a minute or so to make a call and a minute more than that to send an email. We don’t need to figure out an algebraic equation to realize that out of 1440 minutes in one day, that we do not have three seconds to say, “Hey.” Or in a weeks’ time, out of 10,080 minutes, we cannot find five to call or write. (and yes, I did look that up online because numbers have never been my forte)
NO ONE is that busy. Not even the president. Definitely not me either though I am guilty to pawn off with excuses of the same. We are liars to even say it. We are fools to even believe it when it is said. We still say it. We still accept the excuse. Not all of the time, but enough of the time that it affects us and those around us.
Our time here is short and hopefully it is also sweeter rather than bitter. Nobody wants to be an afterthought. Nobody should be. The people in our lives should be foremost in our thoughts and considerations of how we spend our time. We shouldn’t be wasting our time or anyone else’s time. We don’t have it to waste at all. We can’t expect anyone to wait around for us if we are miserly. We make time for those who are important to us. If we have not, then we have shouted to the heavens that they mean close to nothing even if they are not listening.
We should be holding simple moments as if they are made of little diamonds and we really should have an abundance of jewels in our boxes spilling over into every day. We should be draping those who are important to us in our strands of diamonds. And we should be glad to give them our biggest treasure—our time.
Monika M. Basile
January 11, 2013
A Little Less Conversation, A Little more Action...Please
There are a million articles about having “the talk” and most of them leave me with my voice stuck in my throat instead. I am wondering if maybe, there shouldn’t be a talk. Maybe we shouldn’t need to say, “Hey, do you actually want a relationship or are we fooling ourselves?” or “Where do you see this going?”
Part of me thinks if I am driving down a lone stretch of road, and there is nothing but gravel and leafless trees lining it with a bunch of unkempt creepy houses lined up in a row, and buzzards resting on tombstones, do I really need road signs to tell me where I am or if this is the place I should be? Will a flickering neon sign reading GHOST TOWN population 0 really tell me anything more than my very own eyes?
I think that is how it is with relationships too. If I am in a state of constant wondering where it is going, maybe “the talk” has already been spoken in the deepest silence. They say men are actions and women are words. Maybe women say so many words to come up with reasons for a man’s actions or inaction to simply make us feel better about what is standing clearly before us.
None of us wants to be fooled yet we fool ourselves into thinking that if we just “talk” it will turn out okay. We’ll get it all settled and then make some sort of plan to get to the next part of it. I think sometimes we women could avoid a lot of heartache if we truly looked at the relationship, non relationship, somewhat relationship—with our eyes wide open. I would hope we could actually see what the truth is if we shut up in our minds long enough to watch and observe. The mind chatter is a great distraction to what is truly happening.
I am guilty of this—this lying to myself simply because I want what I want. I think most women are. We are queens of making excuses and finding alternative scenarios rather than facing the truth. It’s because the truth can be painful and ugly and sometimes we think we won’t survive the truth. If we face it—we may have to give up the dreams we’ve been dreaming and let something go we may be holding onto very tightly. We have to give up the vision of the relationship we imagined and have the reality instead. Sometimes, we are lucky and it is better than anything we could have ever conceived. And sometimes it’s not.
If I have to ask a man if he loves me, then he doesn’t. He has made it loud and clear in one way or another. If I have to ask, “Do you want me in your future? Do you see me there?”—then I am not anywhere there and it has already been revealed. I just was not ready to look closely enough to see it at the time.
We wonder why “the talk” is such a hard thing to have. The reason is that it is difficult to ask questions to what when we already know the answers and especially when we don’t like the answer at all.
Of course there are exceptions—that’s a given. Some people don’t know what they want or where they are going or who they want to join them on their journey. I believe the majority must know exactly who they love and if they cannot necessarily picture their future, they know when they can’t picture it empty of the person they love.
Words are powerful but only when actions are behind them. We can all talk the talk until we are blue in the face—it doesn’t change what is not taking place. If nothing is really happening—then the reality is just that—it’s nothing.
Monika M. Basile
Part of me thinks if I am driving down a lone stretch of road, and there is nothing but gravel and leafless trees lining it with a bunch of unkempt creepy houses lined up in a row, and buzzards resting on tombstones, do I really need road signs to tell me where I am or if this is the place I should be? Will a flickering neon sign reading GHOST TOWN population 0 really tell me anything more than my very own eyes?
I think that is how it is with relationships too. If I am in a state of constant wondering where it is going, maybe “the talk” has already been spoken in the deepest silence. They say men are actions and women are words. Maybe women say so many words to come up with reasons for a man’s actions or inaction to simply make us feel better about what is standing clearly before us.
None of us wants to be fooled yet we fool ourselves into thinking that if we just “talk” it will turn out okay. We’ll get it all settled and then make some sort of plan to get to the next part of it. I think sometimes we women could avoid a lot of heartache if we truly looked at the relationship, non relationship, somewhat relationship—with our eyes wide open. I would hope we could actually see what the truth is if we shut up in our minds long enough to watch and observe. The mind chatter is a great distraction to what is truly happening.
I am guilty of this—this lying to myself simply because I want what I want. I think most women are. We are queens of making excuses and finding alternative scenarios rather than facing the truth. It’s because the truth can be painful and ugly and sometimes we think we won’t survive the truth. If we face it—we may have to give up the dreams we’ve been dreaming and let something go we may be holding onto very tightly. We have to give up the vision of the relationship we imagined and have the reality instead. Sometimes, we are lucky and it is better than anything we could have ever conceived. And sometimes it’s not.
If I have to ask a man if he loves me, then he doesn’t. He has made it loud and clear in one way or another. If I have to ask, “Do you want me in your future? Do you see me there?”—then I am not anywhere there and it has already been revealed. I just was not ready to look closely enough to see it at the time.
We wonder why “the talk” is such a hard thing to have. The reason is that it is difficult to ask questions to what when we already know the answers and especially when we don’t like the answer at all.
Of course there are exceptions—that’s a given. Some people don’t know what they want or where they are going or who they want to join them on their journey. I believe the majority must know exactly who they love and if they cannot necessarily picture their future, they know when they can’t picture it empty of the person they love.
Words are powerful but only when actions are behind them. We can all talk the talk until we are blue in the face—it doesn’t change what is not taking place. If nothing is really happening—then the reality is just that—it’s nothing.
Monika M. Basile
January 4, 2013
The Funny Thing
Not everyone should have children or even wants children or is able to have children. That’s okay. However, I am a package deal. I have children, several, and it ain’t easy. Even if I don’t have my own children around at times, I have other people’s children. It is a rare occasion to be alone anywhere in this apartment. I realize it is a hard thing for anyone to take, to understand or to even consider being part of. It’s my life. It is what I do. It is a part of who I am. I don’t hold anything against anyone who wants no part of me or my brood.
I don’t expect anyone to walk into my life and become utterly taken with my kids. I don’t expect a man to be in wonder over the wonders God gave me. Half the time I stand right in the center of it all and wonder what the heck I am doing here. My kids are unusual and unique and strange and interesting. They make me a crazy a lot of the time, yet, they are the most interesting people I have ever known. I am sure they will have conniption fits over me writing this if ever they bothered to read it.
Recently, the unexpected happened. A man came back into my life and met them for the first time. He has no children. It made me a bit nervous as other parents can scare me enough, but those who have no wild things of their own, make me wary...especially meeting my brood.
“They’re amazing! I love your girls!” Wow. That threw me completely. He saw what I see. He saw their fieriness, their passion, their intelligence and their picture of the world they live in. It amazed me because a lot of people do not see that right away.
I get nervous at the thought of most men meeting my children. It is one of the reasons that I rarely introduce them. It isn’t because I find my children so distasteful—I truly don’t. I find them to be extraordinary. I just know not everyone will see it that way. The funny thing is, they are an awful lot like me.
“They are you! I see you in them.” That’s what he said. I appreciate that thought very much.
It isn’t easy being a single mother or father dating in this life. It never is a choice of just what I want. Decisions are never only about me and the focus of a relationship cannot be solely on that relationship but instead on every person involved or affected by the relationship. There are a lot of people who cannot understand this and there are just as many who do not want to be involved in that. I’m okay with that, as long as I find out in the beginning.
I don’t really care if someone has children or not, just don’t expect me to throw mine away. Nor do I want someone to date me based on how my pretty my feet are. There is much more to me than that.
Monika M. Basile
I don’t expect anyone to walk into my life and become utterly taken with my kids. I don’t expect a man to be in wonder over the wonders God gave me. Half the time I stand right in the center of it all and wonder what the heck I am doing here. My kids are unusual and unique and strange and interesting. They make me a crazy a lot of the time, yet, they are the most interesting people I have ever known. I am sure they will have conniption fits over me writing this if ever they bothered to read it.
Recently, the unexpected happened. A man came back into my life and met them for the first time. He has no children. It made me a bit nervous as other parents can scare me enough, but those who have no wild things of their own, make me wary...especially meeting my brood.
“They’re amazing! I love your girls!” Wow. That threw me completely. He saw what I see. He saw their fieriness, their passion, their intelligence and their picture of the world they live in. It amazed me because a lot of people do not see that right away.
I get nervous at the thought of most men meeting my children. It is one of the reasons that I rarely introduce them. It isn’t because I find my children so distasteful—I truly don’t. I find them to be extraordinary. I just know not everyone will see it that way. The funny thing is, they are an awful lot like me.
“They are you! I see you in them.” That’s what he said. I appreciate that thought very much.
It isn’t easy being a single mother or father dating in this life. It never is a choice of just what I want. Decisions are never only about me and the focus of a relationship cannot be solely on that relationship but instead on every person involved or affected by the relationship. There are a lot of people who cannot understand this and there are just as many who do not want to be involved in that. I’m okay with that, as long as I find out in the beginning.
I don’t really care if someone has children or not, just don’t expect me to throw mine away. Nor do I want someone to date me based on how my pretty my feet are. There is much more to me than that.
Monika M. Basile
December 28, 2012
For the Love of God
There is one deal breaker that I will never budge on. To me, it is the most important one. It is the one instance that no matter how much I like a man, adore a man or am attracted, I will not change my mind. I can’t compromise here and some may see me as a fool.
He must believe in God.
I don’t care if someone has religion or even what religion they follow. I don’t care if they call God a Higher Power, Allah, Supreme Being, Her, Him or even Fred. I just need to have the assurance that he will not knock my faith or make fun of me for having it. I would not do that to anyone, non-believer or believer. I simply want to know, that when the odd things that happen in my life happen—my future love will understand that I will see God somewhere in that picture.
I think that to debate my faith with one of the ones who is to love me—who I am to love, is exhausting. If you don’t believe at all in the existence of a God, then you will never be able to “get” me, to understand me or to truly accept the secret aspects of my life. It is at the core of who I am. My faith is. It has always been. It isn’t something that I want to change however much questioning I may do. And it is not my intention to change anyone's thinking either.
I don’t practice any particular religion though I do hold certain religious beliefs. I practice at living since I don’t seem to be a natural at it. I practice kindness, and compassion. I practice patience and empathy. I even practice being angry and speaking my mind without destroying the people around me. I have to practice these things all the time due to me being human.
I am not perfect in the least. I don’t have all the answers. I don’t even have any idea what I am actually doing. I only know that whatever is happening, wherever I may be going to or going through, I am not doing it alone or with an internal GPS. I’ve always been bad at directions so I make a lot of detours. I stumble and fall. I rage against God’s choices when I realize where he may be leading is where I don’t feel like going, or what I am being pulled from is what I want to have. Yet, I know with such assurance it is all leading up to something whether it is something big or small.
I am a believer in miracles. I know love is a miracle. Life is a miracle. To have either as well as both is a blessing. It isn’t a right or a guarantee to have either. I want the one who I will share my life with to know that it will be a miracle to find each other at all. That it is an intricate dance and design as each person is brought into our lives, brought out of our lives, or actually stays to dance the final waltz. I would like the man who shares my life to find me a blessing to his life as much as I will know he is one to mine.
Monika M. Basile
He must believe in God.
I don’t care if someone has religion or even what religion they follow. I don’t care if they call God a Higher Power, Allah, Supreme Being, Her, Him or even Fred. I just need to have the assurance that he will not knock my faith or make fun of me for having it. I would not do that to anyone, non-believer or believer. I simply want to know, that when the odd things that happen in my life happen—my future love will understand that I will see God somewhere in that picture.
I think that to debate my faith with one of the ones who is to love me—who I am to love, is exhausting. If you don’t believe at all in the existence of a God, then you will never be able to “get” me, to understand me or to truly accept the secret aspects of my life. It is at the core of who I am. My faith is. It has always been. It isn’t something that I want to change however much questioning I may do. And it is not my intention to change anyone's thinking either.
I don’t practice any particular religion though I do hold certain religious beliefs. I practice at living since I don’t seem to be a natural at it. I practice kindness, and compassion. I practice patience and empathy. I even practice being angry and speaking my mind without destroying the people around me. I have to practice these things all the time due to me being human.
I am not perfect in the least. I don’t have all the answers. I don’t even have any idea what I am actually doing. I only know that whatever is happening, wherever I may be going to or going through, I am not doing it alone or with an internal GPS. I’ve always been bad at directions so I make a lot of detours. I stumble and fall. I rage against God’s choices when I realize where he may be leading is where I don’t feel like going, or what I am being pulled from is what I want to have. Yet, I know with such assurance it is all leading up to something whether it is something big or small.
I am a believer in miracles. I know love is a miracle. Life is a miracle. To have either as well as both is a blessing. It isn’t a right or a guarantee to have either. I want the one who I will share my life with to know that it will be a miracle to find each other at all. That it is an intricate dance and design as each person is brought into our lives, brought out of our lives, or actually stays to dance the final waltz. I would like the man who shares my life to find me a blessing to his life as much as I will know he is one to mine.
Monika M. Basile
