Tag Archives: Love

Falling Faster, Growing Stronger: The Dynamic Duo of Love’s Beginnings

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“You know you’re in love when you can’t fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.“

–Dr. Seuss (Theodor Seuss Geisel, 1904-1991; American author, political cartoonist, poet, animator, and filmmaker, best known for his beloved children’s books, especially The Cat in the Hat AND GREEN Eggs and Ham.

Can you feel it? I can. It’s in the air. It’s everywhere. As the gentle Spring breeze carries the scent of blooming flowers and the melodies of birdsong fill the air, I feel the stirring of something magical. Yep. It’s love. It brings a lump to my throat, and I have to spell it L-U-V.

I’m spellbound. The whispers of renewal make me want to embrace new beginnings and the promise of blossoming romance. I can’t help but think of love, from the budding of tender feelings to the full bloom of enduring connections.

You guessed it. I’m a hopeless romantic. I believe in love at first sight. I believe in falling head-over-heels in love. I believe in being swept off my feet. I believe in being thunderstruck by love. I believe in one true love, love of a lifetime, the perfect match, my other half, my kindred spirit, and my soulmate. If you know of other similar clichés, I probably believe in them, too.

The expression “Love at first sight” has been around for thousands of years, going all the way back to literature and poetry from ancient times. One of the earliest recorded instances is from the Greek philosopher, Plato, in his work “Symposium” (ca. 385-370 BCE). In this dialogue, characters discuss the concept of love, including the idea of “falling in love at first sight.”

Love at first sight–soulmates, if you will–is still very much with us today, so I’m not alone in my love notions. In the United States, for example, the belief in soulmates is fairly common. In fact, I read somewhere not long ago that anywhere from 50% to over 70% of Americans believe in the existence of soulmates or the idea that there is one perfect match for each person.

But what about the rest of Americans who don’t believe in love at first sight? What kind of love do they believe in?

I think I know. Apparently, some people believe in “Growing into Love.” Maybe you’re one of them. I had never heard tell of such a thing until recently when I was scrolling through Facebook. I stopped. I stared. Two men were kissing passionately. (Both were extraordinarily handsome lookers, I might add.) But what made me stop and stare was the caption beneath this super-hot Mr. & Mr. duo:

GROWING INTO LOVE GETS BETTER EVERY DAY

“Growing into love.” That’s pretty new to me. I mean, I had to Google it just to wrap my head around the concept. Apparently, it kicks off with basics like mutual respect, understanding, and emotional connection. Starts off all casual, you know. Like, it could stem from friendship, shared values, or just a good old-fashioned sense of compatibility.

But let me pause right there. Honestly, at first glance, this whole “growing into love” idea seems a bit, well, textbook-ish, if you ask me. Like something straight out of a clinical relationship guide or a self-help book.

But hey, let’s soldier on. So, diving into the nitty-gritty, we’re talking about that initial phase where you’re just getting started with this whole “growing into love” deal. It’s all about that spark, that fluttery feeling in your stomach. Yeah, those butterflies. They’re part of the package.

Then, as time goes on, you start building on that initial attraction. Shared experiences, heartfelt conversations, and quality time together deepen the connection. Trust starts to bloom too, thanks to reliability, honesty, and support.

Sure, there might be bumps along the road—disagreements, conflicts, life throwing curveballs your way. But hey, you’re facing those challenges together. Right? It’s like relationship boot camp, strengthening the bond and making it all the more resilient.

As things progress, you might decide to take things to the next level—getting exclusive, maybe moving in together, or even making long-term plans. But hey, let’s remember, it’s all about choice here. No pressure.

And here’s the kicker. Love? It’s not some static thing. It’s a living, breathing entity that needs constant care and attention. You’ve got to keep those lines of communication open, be ready to compromise, and adapt to each other’s ever-evolving needs and desires.

So yeah, call me clueless, but I’m trying to wrap my head around this whole “growing in love” concept. I mean, it’s pretty cool how it acknowledges that building a lasting relationship takes more than just initial attraction. It’s about putting in the work, day in and day out, to nurture something real and meaningful.

I get it. I understand. But I’m still stuck way back there in Spring with love in the air and with love at first sight–the sheer poetry of it all. There’s a romantic allure to the notion of love at first sight that simply can’t be matched by any other approach to love. It’s like stumbling upon a rare, exquisite flower in the midst of a sprawling garden, instantly captivating your senses and drawing you in with its beauty and mystery.

Imagine this: you’re going about your day, minding your own business, when suddenly, across a crowded room your eyes meet theirs, and in that moment, time seems to stand still. There’s a spark, an inexplicable connection that transcends rationality and sweeps you off your feet in an instant.

It’s as if the universe has conspired to bring two souls together, weaving a fate and destiny together and binding you together in an unbreakable bond. There’s no need for words or explanations; the language of the heart speaks volumes, echoing with the resonance of shared dreams and desires.

In that split second, you just know—know that this person is meant to be a part of your life, know that your paths were always destined to intersect, know that you’ve found a kindred spirit who complements your very being in ways you never thought possible.

That’s precisely what happened when my late partner and I met. Our eyes locked, time stood still, and the world faded into the background, leaving only the two of us in a moment of perfect clarity. In that instant, Allen and I both knew our lives were meant to be shared, and our twenty-year love story began with that electrifying connection.

Sure, it may sound like something out of a fairy tale, but isn’t that the magic of love at first sight? It defies logic and reason, transcends the boundaries of time and space, and unites two souls in a symphony of passion and longing.

As much as I appreciate the gradual unfolding of love, my heart will always be drawn back to that fleeting moment of enchantment, where love blossoms like a flower in the springtime, filling the air with its intoxicating fragrance and leaving an indelible mark on our souls.

And you, Dear Reader? What about you? What about your love? Whether it unfolds gradually like the unfurling of a delicate Spring blossom or strikes suddenly like a bolt of lightning in a stormy Spring sky, always remember this: love, in all its forms, is a testament to the resilience of the human spirit, the capacity for connection, and the enduring power of hope.

Roll Out the Red Carpet!

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“In a world where we can be anything, let’s choose to walk the red carpet of life with kindness, grace, and a sprinkle of stardust.”

–Lady Gaga (b. 1986, Stefani Joanne Angelina Germanotta; a Grammy Award-winning singer, songwriter, and actress known for her groundbreaking music, bold fashion choices, and advocacy for social justice issues; one of the most influential and iconic figures in contemporary pop culture, captivating audiences worldwide with her unique blend of creativity and authenticity.)

Hey, y’all. Come here, curl up real close to me, get comfy, and listen while I purr. I need to share something with you that I simply dare not share with the world at large. But since you’re special and know how to keep secrets, I’ll share it with y’all. Okay? So, get close while I whisper my secret in your ear:

“The other day, I was lying on my sofa, all innocent and quiet like, and right out of the blue, I was smitten, right there in my living room, in broad daylight! Can you imagine?”

Well, I couldn’t imagine it either, mainly because it came on so sudden like. I mean. I was just lying there, and then Shazam! I had been smitten! Well, actually, that shouldn’t come as too much of a surprise. I’m smitten easily, and I’m smitten hard. Hopefully, you are, too. Right now, I’m smitten by the gorgeous moss, harbinger of an early spring, greening itself in my Koi Pond Waterfalls. I’m smitten, too, by the online photography course I’m taking so that I can take better photographs with my new Samsung Galaxy S24 Ultra. I continue to be smitten by advances in AI, especially by Aloha, a housekeeping humanoid who can cook and clean. (If you dissed me when I announced my Caden last November, I guess I’m getting the first laugh. Ready to hop on board? There’s room!) And, in case you’re wondering–and I know, I just know that some of you are–I have not been smitten by any of the studmuffins who failed to find their way into Anne Lamott’s life or into mine during our respective flings with online dating apps. (For her account, see “My Year on Match.com”; for mine, which matters far more and is really the only one that matters at all, see “My Year on Unmatched.com.”)

I cannot speak for Lamott, but I remain hopeful. I am doing my best to smite the frog at my kitchen door with regular, passionate kisses so that I can practice my pucker and stay in shape. Who knows? I might just have an opportunity to be smitten by a prince. (Princes like good kissers. Just sayin’.)

No doubt you’re wondering what the hell I’ve been smitten by, aside from my nonsense. Chill. I’m about to tell you.

I’ve been smitten by a red carpet. Mind you, though, it’s not just any ole red carpet. It’s THA red carpet that gets rolled out right in front of you to seduce you into a waltz with destiny, leaving you breathless with anticipation and a sprinkle of stardust in your eyes.

Yep. I’m a smitten kitten. Hear me purr? But here’s the thing. The glamour of rolling out the red carpet goes all the way back to ancient Greece, where it was mentioned in Aeschylus’ play Agamemnon describing the king’s return home after winning a battle. His wife Clytemnestra says to him, “Now my beloved, step down from your chariot, and let not your foot, my lord, touch the Earth. Servants, let there be spread before the house he never expected to see … a crimson path.”

Despite its ancient heritage, it was not until the early 20th century that rolling out the red carpet became associated with celebrities and VIPs, particularly in the entertainment industry. The first known reference to a red carpet being used at the premiere of a movie dates back to 1922, when it was laid out for the opening of the Egyptian Theatre in Hollywood.

Since then, the red carpet has become synonymous with prestige, glamour, and exclusivity, particularly at award shows, movie premieres, and high-profile parties. It’s often used to signify that the individuals walking on it are special guests deserving of special treatment and attention.

That certainly was the case during this year’s Grammy Awards, as the red carpet sizzled with music’s biggest stars like Taylor Swift and SZA. Amidst wardrobe changes and rehearsals, the red carpet set the stage for unforgettable fashion moments.

Beyond Hollywood, the red carpet is used in various other contexts as a symbol of importance, honor, and VIP treatment. I dare say that each of us, at one time or another, has said to ourselves or to someone else “I want to roll out the red carpet” to celebrate someone or to jazz up a special occasion.

You’ve probably had enough of my caterwaul, so I’d better roll out THA red carpet that turned me into a smitten kitten. Meow, meow, meow, purr, purr, purr, meow, meow, purr, purr, meow, purr, MEOW!

Like I said, I was lying on my sofa in broad daylight, amusing myself with some TikTok videos when out of nowhere a video featuring Opatija, a picturesque coastal town in Croatia, popped up on my smartphone. But it wasn’t just any ordinary kind of video. It was a red-carpet tourism video, weaving together a rich tapestry of emotions, triumphs, and shared moments. The taglines alone speak volumes:

● Exploring the vibrant tapestry of choices on the red carpet, where every step unveils a world of possibilities.

● In this beautiful world, imagine if every moment mirrored a red carpet affair—filled with smiles, hugs, and unbridled happiness. Let’s choose to embrace the elegance of joy in every step we take.

● Witness the unexpected on the red carpet—a celebration of diversity, love, and transformation.

● Imagine if every moment mirrored a red-carpet affair—filled with smiles, hugs, and unbridled happiness. Let’s choose to embrace the elegance of joy in every step we take.

Typically, a man appears suddenly and rolls out a red carpet in public places, such as sidewalks or parks, treating unsuspecting strangers as if they were celebrities, complete with photographers, fans, and sometimes even limousines. Without fail, the reactions and interactions with the new celebs are amusing and heartwarming, often catching people off guard with the unexpected VIP treatment. The goal is to capture genuine reactions and create humorous situations, so they often approach anyone who happens to be in the vicinity of where they set up the red carpet. This approach helps keep the content unpredictable and inclusive, as they showcase reactions from a variety of individuals.

Typically, the people who walk the red carpet in the videos seem to be surprised by what is happening. Almost always, they are hesitant to step onto the red carpet after it has been rolled out in front of them, even as the tall young man extends his arm graciously and invitingly. Their movements are cautious, almost as if they’re tiptoeing into unfamiliar territory. Their expressions betray a mixture of uncertainty and curiosity, unsure of what awaits them as they traverse this unexpected path. Each step is tentative, as if testing the ground beneath them for stability.

Yet, as they progress further along the scarlet pathway, something remarkable begins to happen. A subtle shift occurs in their demeanor, a gradual transformation fueled by the energy of the moment. Their apprehension gives way to wonder. Their eyes light up with newfound excitement and anticipation. With each stride, they seem to shed the weight of their doubts, stepping into a realm where anything is possible.

As they walk across the red carpet, a sense of liberation washes over them, freeing them from the constraints of everyday life. In this fleeting moment, they are not defined by their roles or responsibilities but by the sheer exhilaration of the experience. Laughter bubbles forth, spontaneous and unrestrained, as they embrace the joy of the unexpected.

Amidst the vibrant tapestry of emotions, the little dramas of life begin to unfold. Strangers become companions, sharing stories and forging connections that transcend the fleeting encounter. Inhibitions are cast aside, replaced by an unbridled sense of camaraderie and belonging. It’s as if the red carpet has become a stage, and they are the stars of their own impromptu performance.

In the end, as they step off the red carpet, their spirits are buoyed by this enchanting journey. Though they return to the routine of their daily lives, they carry with them the indelible imprint of this extraordinary moment—a reminder that magic can be found in the most unexpected places, if only we dare to take that first step.

“Dare to take that first step. “

We can look at that statement in two ways. The people in these little dramas have to dare to take that first step onto the red carpet. Then, and only then, can these magical transformations take place, even if only for a few moments. But let’s not forget the other individuals who are involved in these little dramas: the Croatian video team, who time and time again, dare to roll out the red carpet for strangers whom they encounter. Without the video team, strangers could not become stars.

I cannot help but wonder what our own little corners of our world would be like if we spent some time thinking about ways that we dare roll out the metaphorical red carpet before strangers whom we encounter in our own lives.

It could be as simple as sincerely complimenting someone on something positive about them. Whether it’s their style, smile, or skill, our words can brighten their day. For instance, we might notice someone’s vibrant scarf and express admiration for how it complements their outfit. Their initial surprise might give way to a smile of appreciation, boosting their confidence and spreading warmth.

It could be as simple as performing small, random acts of kindness without expecting anything in return. It could be as simple as holding the door open for someone, helping carry groceries, or simply offering a friendly smile. Imagine seeing someone struggling with heavy bags and offering assistance without hesitation. Their gratitude and relief could radiate as they realize there are still caring strangers in the world.

It could be as simple as striking up conversations with people we encounter in our daily lives. This could be as straightforward as asking how their day is going or commenting on something happening in the community. Picture starting a conversation with someone standing in line at the grocery store and sharing a laugh over a funny observation. Our genuine interest and friendliness might brighten their day and foster a sense of connection.

As I continue to be smitten by the transformative allure of the Opatija tourism videos, where a mere red carpet, a lens, and the sincere desire to infuse fleeting moments with joy can ignite profound change, I am stirred to contemplate our collective capacity to impact the lives of strangers. Perhaps, in our quest to touch hearts, we need not seek grand gestures. Perhaps all that we need to do is strive to live our lives as radiant beacons of kindness and warmth so that with every interaction, we joyfully roll out the red carpet.

My Year on Unmatched.com

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Ooh, somebody, ooh (somebody)
Anybody find me somebody to love?
(Can anybody find me someone to love)

–Freddie Mercury (1946-1991; legendary British singer-songwriter, best known as the charismatic frontman of the band Queen; the quote is from their song “Somebody to Love.”)

Some people say that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. Maybe so. Personally, I’ve never been one to imitate. I’ve always marched to the beat of my own drum. Yet, way back in 2013, I ran across an essay by Anne Lamott, a New York Times best-selling author and one of my favorite writers. The title was straight to the point: “My Year on Match.com.” In case you don’t know about Match.com, don’t feel bad. At that time, I didn’t either. I’m not certain that I had even heard about it. After all, I was happily partnered and had no desire to know about online dating apps. But I like Lamott a lot and decided to read the essay to find out whether she succeeded in spicing up her life with a studmuffin that she picked up on a dating app.

As I expected, Lamott was as candid, witty, reflective, and self-deprecating as I had always found her to be. Indeed, her essay builds upon her experiences using an online dating app, but she takes it up a notch by exploring themes of self-discovery, resilience, and the importance of authenticity in relationships. It’s a well-structured essay as well as an entertaining read, so I started using it in my Creative Writing classes. It seemed to me that my students couldn’t do better than to imitate Lamott’s memoir style of writing.

Fast forward nearly a decade, and I found myself imitating Lamott, too, in a roundabout way. My partner had died at the start of 2021, and two years or so into my grieving, I started thinking that maybe I should try dating once again. Why not? Doing so would in no way diminish the special relationship that Allen and I had for 20 years. Doing so would in no way diminish the love that we shared and the love that I still feel. Irreplaceable is just that: irreplaceable.

At the same time, like all human beings, I crave companionship and connection, someone with whom I can share experiences, conversations, and life’s moments. Dating might do just that. Equally important, it would be great to have someone who understands, accepts, and offers a sense of emotional security. Dating might do just that. And let’s not forget about being able to engage in shared interests and activities, which can bring joy, excitement, vibrancy, and fulfillment to daily life. Gardening. Cooking. Hiking. Embracing. Kissing. Snuggling. Dating might do just that.

Those notions aren’t new ones for me. If you follow my blog regularly–and I am confident that you do–you will recall that I’ve written about this dating thingy already in my “Dating after Twenty-Three.” Obviously, there’s no way–there’s just no way–that I could have written a post as silly as that one without giving some serious thought to the prospect of getting back out there into the dating scene. You bet. I had.

Those ponderings were fueled, in part, by Lamott’s essay. After all, she and I have lots in common. We’re both writers. (All right, fine. I’m not a New York Times best-selling author, yet.) She’s single. I’m single. She’s looking for a man. I’m looking for a man. She wrote about her online dating experience, and here I am writing about mine. Her essay appeared in Salon. Well, mine is appearing here in my blog. Who knows. With luck, it might get picked up by The Advocate or Out Magazine or even Queerty. Simply put, I figured that if Lamott could bring dating apps into my world, so too could I bring them into your world.

However, I confess. Thinking about joining a dating app frightened the hell out of me. It was frightening for Lamott, too:

“I’d done so many scary things in my life, but this might be the scariest. At the age of 58, I joined a dating site.”

That sentence caused me to ghost Lamott for a while. I was downright nasty:

“Stop whining, Anne! You’re a SWF ISO SWM. So what if you’re 58? You can look ahead and behind and find some good stuffds.

“Try being a 76-year-old GWM ISO GWM in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia.

“Then and only then can you talk about scary.”

All right. I realize that maybe I need to pause here and explain some of those initialisms that I just tossed out. They might be as new to you as they were to me before I tried this online dating thingy.

● SWF ISO SWM stands for Single White Female in Search of Single White Male.

● GWM ISO GWM stands for Gay White Male in Search of Gay White Male.

And, please, please, please, let me explain one more initialism for you in case life makes you take up with a dating app. RN does not stand for Registered Nurse as I, in my naïveté, believed. It stands for Right Now. I will say no more. But I will advise you to be cautious of that initialism unless, of course, you’re looking for RN.

Then, of course, there’s another initialism I should warn you about in case you decide you’re going to imitate me. Dating is fine and dandy, but what I’m really looking for is a date that might become a serious and meaningful relationship that might lead to a Long-Term Relationship. Toward that end and with the intent to be fully candid and transparent, I included LTR in my profile. Bad move. I discovered that in many circles, LTR stands for Leather. Now I know. Now they know. I limit mine to my shoes, my belt, and my book bag. My profile now reads: “ISO meaningful dates leading to possible Long-Term Relationship.”

Finding out the deeper meaning of LTR and RN might well be my most frightening discovery in my online dating experience. I mean, after all, I fell for it. At my age, who wouldn’t look more than once at a man who’s a registered nurse. Well, he wasn’t, and I’m still lookin’.

Notwithstanding near-encounters of the casual, leather kind, I’ve been imitating Lamott for nearly a year, and I certainly have a thing or three to share, and I’ll do so right here, right now. So, let’s see. How shall I begin to spit out all the butt-ends of my dating ways? It’s simple. I’ll begin at the beginning when I, armed with nothing but a smartphone, unbelievable naïveté that borders on stupidity, and a questionable sense of humor, tackled a virtual world of dating sites, each boasting to be the ultimate game-changer. Check out their come-ons:

● Love: Only a Click Away. (This might have been where I was introduced to RN.)

● Start Your Love Story Today. (Sadly, everybody out there seems to have a love story. Most are tragedies.)

● There’s much more fun after 50. (Says who? Take me to your leader. RN.)

● A shared interest is just the beginning. (Yep. I’m pretty sure this is where I found LTR. Not shared. Not interested. Next.)

● This is the year to focus on yourself, boost confidence, and attract genuine connections! (Sure. 899 views and 12 likes. What a confidence booster. Those numbers really pump me up.)

● It’s never too late to experience the beauty of togetherness. Join today and find that special someone who will make “together” your favorite place to always be. (Sweet. Sure. Gimme time to buy some Velcro.)

● Don’t waste more time on casual flings. See who our experts match you with, for free. Take our free compatibility quiz today!

I learned fast that the assessments tend to be pretty reliable. I learned even faster that “free” isn’t. What’s the point of belonging to a dating app if I can’t see profile photos and can’t message? If you want to see and if you want to say, get ready to pay. Like I said, “free” isn’t. Everything comes with a price, including online dating.

Then, I learned that online dating isn’t as secure as I expected. Scammers sneak under the radar. Check out this one.

“Hey. I just met my new boyfriend. Otherwise, I’d like to connect with you. But I showed your profile to a friend who likes you a lot and lives near you.  Here’s his email: IHopeYouFallforThis.net.”

What else? Despite the sophisticated assessments and matching algorithms, all of my matches around my own age look like frogs! As for the ones that make my heart pitter-patter, most are in California or New York City. But guess what? Those potential matches are usually way younger than my age preference. I’m not interested in guys under 45. Forty-five is calculated based on a scientifically established compatibility formula: half my age plus 7. Anyway, some of those guys nearly threw me into AFib because sometimes they threw me a wink or a smile. But here’s the thing. Just as soon as I revived myself with smelling salts and mustered up the courage to return a smile, they had disappeared. Well, it doesn’t matter anyway. I’ve decided to use my own formula for calculating the lower compatibility age for my dates. I’m thinking along the lines of half my age + half my age + “guaranteed annuity.”

Don’t get me wrong. I have had some near successes. I’m thinking about the match who was a year older than I, had a chiseled face, and checked off all the right boxes in all the right places. He kept me awake, dreaming about endless possibilities until I dozed off with endless possibilities chasing me in my sleep. I “liked” all of his attributes. He “liked” all of mine, too. We were a perfect mutual admiration society. What did I do the next morning? What did I do? I logged back on to suggest a real-time date. And what did I discover? What did I discover? He had deleted his profile. Next.

Not to despair, though. One match remains, and one is all that it takes. Plus, he’s not a frog. Actually, he’s damned handsome and super butch. More, our compatibility scores are off the charts. I look and look and look. Yep. He seems perfect. But he’s three hours away, and he seems as cautious as I. Nonetheless, we’ve exchanged a smile or two, a “like” or two, and a message or two. Right now, I’m waiting to see whether he responds to my message that I sent him this morning inviting him to lunch. Rest assured, I have a strategy for how we can meet in the middle for a grand lunch, assuming that he answers and that his profile has not disappeared when I attempt to reply.

While I wait, hoping for the courtesy of his reply, if I were asked to rate my online dating experience so far, I would give it a big fat zero. Dating experience? When? Where? Oh, to be sure. I’ve had a few entertaining Vibe Checks via secure video. By mutual agreement, they did not lead to dates. Through one, however, I now have a newfound daily messaging buddy.

Believe it or not, I’ve actually had some fun. Right now, for example, Unmatched.com seems to be recycling all the profiles. I look. I scream:

“Seen them all! Seen them all already.”

Does it matter if I “liked” him in the past? Maybe his memory isn’t as good as mine. Maybe this time around, he’ll “like” me back. Hope springs eternal.

Also, I’ve learned a lot. I mean, really. I have. I just need to stop liking every Tom, Dick, and Harry coming down the app. Also, I think that I would much rather be in a bar seeing the eye-candy in person and in action. But, hey, I would probably end up with one drink too many and find myself at home with one of the frogs that I’ve managed to avoid successfully online.

But you know what else? Through all the ups and downs, the frogs and fleeting connections, I’ve discovered a treasure trove of emotions that transcend the swipe of a screen. Whether it’s the warmth of a genuine conversation, the laughter sounded over shared interests, or the spark ignited by a thoughtful message, each interaction reminds me of the beauty that surrounds me.

As I reflect on my journey through online dating, I’m reminded of the longing for companionship, connection, and shared experiences that initially spurred me into this adventure. Yet, amidst this pursuit, I realize the importance of staying true to myself. I know now more than ever that I’ve never been one to imitate. I’ve always marched to the beat of my own drum, and that’s a rhythm I intend to continue, joyfully chanting my blessings. My entire life has been filled with love, joy, and contentment. Until Mr. Right arrives, I revel in my autonomy, finding joy in my passions and savoring life’s pleasures independently. This journey has taught me the beauty of self-discovery and embracing life’s twists with open arms.

Cheers to adventure! Cheers to never losing sight of the magic, even on Unmatched.com.

Embracing Your Inner Cupid: A Valentine’s Day Journey of Self-Love

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I’ll tell you how the Sun rose – 
A Ribbon at a time – 
The Steeples swam in Amethyst – 
The news, like Squirrels, ran – 

The Hills untied their Bonnets – 
The Bobolinks – begun –
Then I said softly to myself –
“That must have been the Sun”!

But how he set – I know not –
There seemed a purple stile
That little Yellow boys and girls
Were climbing all the while – 

Till when they reached the other side – 
A Dominie in Gray – 
Put gently up the evening Bars – 
And led the flock away –

–Emily Dickinson (1830-1866; one of the most important and influential poets in American literature).

I almost never devote an entire blog post to a special occasion. Well, now that I think about it, I suppose that I have done so on a handful of occasions. I’m thinking of my “Old Anchors for the New Year;” “Memories of Christmas in the Country;” and “A Halloween Obsession.” Then, of course, I recall posts that I wrote on my birthday last year and the year before: “Happy Birthday Me! My Journey from Machines to Artificial Intelligence” and “Hor(r)o(r)scopic Contemplations.”

Yes. I really do consider my birthday to be a special occasion. And, yes, as I have disclosed before with candor and transparency, I really do buy myself birthday gifts in advance. I have them wrapped in over-the-top paper and tied in fancy ribbons and bows. I include a note reminding myself of what an extraordinarily special and one-of-a-kind guy that I am. Then I hide the gifts so that I’ll be surprised on my special day. If I don’t love myself, how can others love me? That’s true for you, too. Love yourself.

Actually, reflecting on self-love and my birthday posts is what got me to thinking about today’s post. Many people struggle with self-love because of negative self-perceptions, comparison to others, fear of selfishness, and emotional baggage. However, we need to remember that self-love is essential for our overall well-being, and we need to prioritize self-care, self-compassion, and self-acceptance. By cultivating a deeper sense of love and appreciation for ourselves, we can experience greater resilience, fulfillment, and authenticity.

What better time of year to show ourselves some self-love than on Valentine’s Day, which is fast upon us, heralding a flurry of romantic gestures and heartfelt sentiments. Obviously, Valentine’s Day is associated with romantic love and expressions of affection between couples and lovers. Obviously, too, Valentine’s Day has morphed over time to encompass broader expressions of love and affection, including friends and family. We’re talking more than 250 million roses; more than 150 million cards; more than 36 million heart-shaped boxes of chocolate; millions of romantic dinners out at fancy restaurants; and lots of gifts, averaging around $196 each.

Cards. Roses. Chocolates. Dinner. Gifts. All for special people on Valentine’s Day.

I hope that you show the special people in your life how much you love them on Valentine’s Day. Showing others that we love them nurtures the roots of connection, fostering a sense of belonging and solidarity that transcends boundaries and enriches our shared human experience.

I hope that those who think you’re special show their love for you on Valentine’s Day. It’s good to be reminded that we are valued, worthy of affection, and capable of inspiring joy in others. In the embrace of love, we find the courage to flourish, to reach higher, and to bloom into the fullest expression of ourselves.

But, more, I hope that you take time in the midst of these Valentine’s Day gestures, coming and going, to wrap your arms around yourself and to remind yourself of how special you are. Celebrate your own inner Cupid. Loving yourself nurtures the roots of your being. Loving yourself helps you cultivate resilience. Loving yourself helps you find solace in your own company. Loving yourself helps you embrace the beauty of your imperfections and your brokenness. Loving yourself radiates outward and brightens the world around you.

With that in mind, let me offer you a little gift that might help you move a little closer toward self-love. It’s an Emily Dickinson poem. It has nothing to do with love, yet it has everything to do with love. I was smitten as soon as I thought of the poem, and it occurred to me that the lines of her poem, expanded with some prose of my own, might serve as a compass to guide you through the day. Let her words coupled with mine serve as a roadmap to self-discovery and love. So, amidst the bustling festivities, let this post be a steadfast companion–a suitor if you will–illuminating your path. I hope that in some small way, it helps you find the inspiration and courage that you might need to walk in harmony throughout the day with your inner Cupid. Be bold. Put your one hand in the other and hold tight. In loving yourself, you will unlock the boundless potential within, paving the way for a Valentine’s Day filled not only with outward expressions of affection but also with a profound sense of self-worth and empowerment.

§    §    §

I’ll tell you how the Sun rose –

Maybe start your Valentine’s Day by getting up early so that you can see the sun rise. Then enjoy your favorite breakfast. Go ahead: indulge in a sugar splurge of heart-shaped pancakes and maple syrup. Damn! Why not include a large caramel latte? Do whatever you want that best suits you, but be sure to take time to appreciate yourself and your journey.

A Ribbon at a time

After breakfast, take a moment to reflect on your journey of self-discovery and growth. Here’s a wild idea, but it’s no more outlandish that my buying birthday gifts for myself. Cut ribbons to celebrate each major step forward in your life, each lesson learned, and each milestone reached in your journey of self-love and acceptance. Write affirmations on the ribbons and tie them around items in your home as reminders of your worth and inner strength. Let the ribbons reign supreme for a few days. Turn on a ceiling fan and let them flutter in the breeze. See how you feel.

The Steeples swam in Amethyst –

Look out your windows and really take time to see what you see. What’s out there, inviting you? Maybe go outdoors and commune with nature. Believe it or not, Nature will hear you and will respond to your need whatever it may be. Let the morning light bathe you in all of your favorite colors, real and imagined. Be reminded of how important it is to nurture your own spirit. Be present and grounded in the beauty of the world around you and appreciate the love that you have for yourself.

The news like Squirrels ran –

When you get back home, focus on the knowledge and information that you need to nourish your mind and soul. Engage with the world around you, staying informed and educated, knowing that self-awareness and personal growth are integral parts of self-love. Spend some time learning something new or engaging in a hobby that brings you joy and happiness.

The Hills untied their Bonnets –

Hopefully, you’re starting to feel rejuvenated. Go ahead and let your hair down, perhaps literally and metaphorically. Celebrate your independence and ability to thrive on your own, nurturing the love you have for yourself.

The Bobolinks begun –

In the afternoon, listen to the rhythm of your own heartbeat and dance naked with yourself in front of a mirror. Embrace the freedom to be yourself fully and unapologetically. Remind yourself that happiness comes from within and that true fulfillment is found in embracing who you are rather than in forcing yourself to be who others would have you be.

Then I said softly to myself –

As the day draws to a close, whisper sweet nothings to yourself, Practice self-affirmations and positive self-talk: “I am enough.” “I embrace my worthiness.” “I am deserving of love and happiness.”

That must have been the Sun!

As the sun sets on Valentine’s Day, let yourself thrill to the realization that you have witnessed the unknown: the sun! Remind yourself that even on the cloudiest of days and even in the darkest of times, your inner light is bright and can lead. Be grateful for the love you have for yourself, knowing that it is the foundation upon which all other love is built.

How he set – I know not –

As the sun dips below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the world, remind yourself that you don’t need to know everything. Sometimes, it’s enough just to witness the beauty of a sunset or the laughter of a child or the feeling of warmth from a hug.

There seemed a purple stile

In the evening light, envision the steps that you have climbed in your life, the steps that led you to greater heights of self-discovery and acceptance. Be reminded that the path may be winding and uncertain, but it is also filled with possibilities. Lean in and ready yourself for whatever lies ahead.

That little Yellow boys and girls

Embrace your inner child and celebrate aspects of yourself that are playful, curious, and full of joy. Blow bubbles. Watch as they float and pop. Have a pillow fight with an imaginary friend. Fall asleep reading yourself a bedtime story out loud.

Were climbing all the while–

As you climb higher and higher towards a greater sense of self-awareness and self-acceptance, your journey may be challenging at times, but it is also deeply rewarding. Recognize the strength and resilience within yourself as you continue to climb towards greater self-love and acceptance.

Till when they reached the other side –

Day by day, you will make progress, and eventually, your self-love will bring you closer and closer to living authentically and wholeheartedly.

A Dominie in Gray –

Be your own Dominie–your own teacher–guiding you with compassion and insight as you navigate the complexities of loving yourself fully and unconditionally. Acknowledge the presence of your inner guide and teacher and trust their wisdom and guidance.

Put gently up the evening Bars –

As the evening descends, embrace the idea of setting boundaries and creating space for self-care and reflection. Let the evening bars remind you to honor your own needs and prioritize your well-being, knowing that self-love requires nurturing and protection.

And led the flock away –

As you bid farewell to the day, gently wrap your arms around yourself, give yourself the big hug that you deserve, and enjoy some of those scrumptious chocolates that hopefully you put on your pillow, just for you. You deserve them.

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Valentine’s Day will come, and Valentine’s Day will go. Yet, we can carry forward the love. By loving ourselves wholly and unconditionally, we not only enrich our own lives but also, we inspire others to do the same. May every day be filled with self-love, self-compassion, and self-acceptance. May we awaken every day to “I’ll tell you how the sun rose” as a gentle reminder to embrace our inner Cupid who resides within forever.

As Light As a Feather

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On a long journey, even a straw weighs heavy.

Spanish Proverb

Recently, I traveled from the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia to the Green Mountains of Vermont. What prompted the trip was the launch of my edition of Mary E. Wilkins Freeman’s Green Mountain Stories, first in Burlington and then in Brattleboro. Don’t worry. I won’t recap the book or its launches. Neither is the point of this post.

Something unusual happened while I was packing for my journey. I’ve been wondering about it ever since.

Even though I was going to be away for ten days, I managed to pack everything that I needed into one small suitcase (laundered and folded shirts; boxers; socks; handkerchiefs; bathrobe; and toiletries); one thin garment bag (a lightweight blazer; a pair of dress trousers; several pairs of chinois; flip flops; and a pair of loafers); and my book bag (laptop; books; portfolio with notepad; pens; and index cards).

I was pleased with my efficiency. I could grab my suitcase and book bag in one hand and my garment bag in the other and be on my way. I had room to spare in the backseat of my Jeep Gladiator, especially since my dog Ruby was staying in her own room at our local pet spa.

This was my first solo research/scholarly trip in two decades.

Until this time, my late partner Allen had always gone with me on all of my scholarly speaking engagements, research journeys, and conferences. The details started bubbling up from the depth of memory to the surface of now.

All of those “aways” were professional, but Allen and I always did our best to make them memorable vay-kays.

Packing was totally different then, and we each did our own thing.

I was never quite certain what I might be called upon to do professionally on these trips, and, like most Scorpions, I have a moody side. So I had to pack at least one suit–sometimes two–plus several sports jackets with matching trousers; two dress belts (black and brown); at least a half dozen dress shirts and as many or more silk ties; boxers; socks; two pair of dress shoes (black and brown); and handkerchiefs.

That would cover professional events. But hey! We’re on vay-kay. What about play clothes?

I’m just as fashionably moody in that clothing category, too. Khakis. Blue jeans. Long- and short-sleeved shirts. Lightweight sweaters. Penny loafers.  Sneakers. Athletic socks. OMG.  What if we go hiking? Hiking boots. Hiking poles. Backpack. Well, you see where this is going. Right?

Yeah. You probably do. But keep in mind that I haven’t even gotten to my cosmetics. Hairspray. Facial cleanser. Astringent. Skin cream. Shaving lather. Razors. Deodorant. Nail clippers. Files. Emory boards. And what’s a vay-kay without a facial? Peel-off masks. Clay masks. Charcoal masks. Body scrub. Sun screen. Toothpaste. Dental floss. Mouthrinse. OMG. I nearly forgot my hairbrush and comb. Thank God I remembered those. After all, even strangers remember me for the hair that I don’t have enough of, really, to brush or to spray. But I have lots of memories, so I keep brushing and spraying. Those were the days, my friends.

But let me get back to Allen and his packing. He never worried too much about the professional attire. Since he and I wore the same size clothes, he figured that if I wasn’t wearing it, he could, especially since he liked my dress clothes.

But when it came to play clothes, if my Scorpionic moodiness made me pack a lot, his Piscean moodiness made him pack a lot more, usually a lot more new threads that he always loved to buy for our vay-kays.

Luckily, he could pack his cosmetics in a small leather toiletry bag while telling all of our friends–and even rank strangers–that we always pulled one U-Haul for my cosmetics and another U-Haul just for my hairspray.

Sure. Of course. Allen had his own quirky things that he had to pack up and bring, too. So that I can have my own touché moment, I’ll tell you all about them right now, My Dear Readers. But please don’t share these secrets with strangers, rank or otherwise. First and foremost, he had to bring an electric fan–not to cool us off but to create white noise while we slept. Second, and almost as important as the first, were our pillows. No other pillows in the world would satisfy him like our own. Shrink packaging helped, but those four king-sized pillows added to the total weight of everything that we were packing. Third, e[x][r]otic massage oil. (Well, maybe we’ll need the electric fan after all. Just saying.)

If we happened to be packing for a trip somewhere where we had rented a VRBO home–as we preferred doing whenever we could–we knew that we would be cooking dinner upon arrival. Whatever we were having for that first evening’s meal would fit into the cooler, along with whatever “special” cut of meat we would have for a special vay-kay dinner while away. Toss in the spices, condiments, wine, limes, tonic water, and Bombay Sapphire Gin. Now, we’re all packed and ready to go. (Not to worry. I didn’t forget our favorite cast iron skillet.)

OMG! I forgot the dogs! Never two at once. First Hazel during most of the years that Allen and I were together. Then, Ruby, during Allen’s final three years. Each dog had the same requirements. Food. Treats. Food dish. Water dish. Blanket. Brush. Toys. Leash. Poop bags. Space to curl up and lie down.

By the time we got everything packed into my Jeep–usually a two-door Wrangler–we inevitably started our journey with no small degree of surprise that we had managed to get everything packed into the Jeep while still leaving space for our furry, four-legged best friend.

When we arrived, wherever it happened to be that we were going, we were always ecstatic to get unpacked and settled in. (Thank God for Gin & Tonics, e[r][x]otic massage oil, and the electric fan.)

Regardless of how often we traveled–usually two or three journeys a year–as we unpacked, our eyes would lock on one another, and we would break into riotous laughter as we discovered that each of us–unbeknownst to the other–had packed candle sticks, candles, cocktail glasses, Venetian glass cocktail stirs, wine glasses, linen napkins,  pewter flatware, and China service for two.

Now, I can’t help but wonder and wonder and wonder about all of those journeys. What magic made those heavy suitcases feel as light as a feather?

The Magic of Fruitcake

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“From time to time, I savor a slice, but I’m parceling it out ever so rarely and ever so thinly. I want the magic of this fruitcake to last forever.”

Let me tell you about the magic of fruitcake. I know. You probably think that’s a ridiculous claim. Most folks hate fruitcakes because they’re hard and dry and filled with citron and raisins and Lord knows what all. Most are so bad that jokesters rightfully disparage them as next year’s paperweights or doorstops.

Obviously, those naysayers never tasted one of my Mom’s fruitcakes. Obviously, those naysayers never experienced the magic of my Mom’s fruitcakes. For time immemorial—seventy years, perhaps longer—she perfected her fruitcake recipe, recording her adjustments religiously. For one single, seven-pound fruitcake, she uses four pounds of cherries, golden raisins, pineapple, and pecans. For her batter, she mixes just enough to hold the fruit and nuts together, and it’s rich with a half dozen jumbo eggs, a pound of butter, and a magical blend of lemon juice, vanilla, freshly grated nutmeg, cinnamon, and allspice.  And when it comes to fruitcakes, Mom’s no tee-totaler.  Her fruitcakes are redolent with booze.  She soaks the fruit in brandy before baking, and, once her baked cakes have cooled, she nestles them in thick layers of brandied cheesecloth, replenished weekly—starting in August when she bakes her cakes and continuing through Christmas when she gives them away. 

Mom shared her treasured, secret recipe with me, right after two strokes in quick succession left her paralyzed in both legs and one arm. She was 92 then. It was the last year that she made her fruitcakes, from start to finish.

For the next few years, I made the fruitcakes. Everyone raved, even Mom. To me, however, something magical seemed missing.

Then, one year, my oldest sister called, claiming the ritual as hers. Mom had given her the recipe, too. 

My sister followed it with precision, but as she started spooning the batter into the tube pan, she broke down in tears. She phoned Mom, who lived just two houses away. 

“It’s all mixed,” she sobbed, “but it’s not going in the pan right.” 

“Audrey, bring it on down here and prop me up in bed. I’ll show you how to do it.”

My sister went down and propped Mom up. With her one good arm and all the love and courage that she could muster, Mom packed the batter into the pan, pressing it down with the back of a wooden spoon, as only Mom knows how to do. Then she adorned the top with a ring of brandied, candied fruit flowers, just like always. Undoubtedly, that fruitcake was her most beautiful, ever, and it tasted just as first-rate as any Mom ever made all by herself. 

My sister gave me a huge hunk of that love-laden fruitcake—undoubtedly, the best in the world and, sadly, Mom’s last. I have it wrapped in brandied cheesecloth, and I keep it in the freezer, the same way that Mom always kept one or more fruitcakes, from one year to the next. From time to time, I savor a slice, but I’m parceling it out ever so rarely and ever so thinly. I want the magic of this fruitcake to last forever.