Was It Worth It?

A year ago I started this blog.  I had to do something as I approached the yawning maw of my 60s.  It helped, plus it gave me an excuse to say things like “yawning maw”.  Occasionally I check the counter on my blog profile page.  Just a few weeks ago I had over 300 profile views.  373 hits to be exact, I told myself that was a respectable number given I only post on Facebook and rarely give out my blog address.  I didn’t realize -- there is a different counter tallying how many people have actually read my posts. That number is considerably higher -- 1,823.  Damn!  I’m flat out amazed!  Thank you friends, family and assorted unknown voyeurs, thanks for indulging me. 

Can’t express how satisfying it is when someone comments on my stuff, especially when they say “I relate or you have touched me with your words.”  I am elated when I receive a “thumbs up” from someone I haven’t seen in years or who hasn’t known me long.  These comments ease the sting of knowing that a close friend has never commented, or as I suspect, never even read what I have written. 

In addition to blogging, I’ve had a perfectly fine year, even though the world I live in occasionally scares me.  I am fortunate to have my health, a good husband, and a secure living.  These are things that should not be taken for granted; although, I am often ungrateful and yearn for my youth, more agility and my former sharp memory.  I can still recall the words to most of the Beatles’ catalogue but not the name of that guy – you know that guy?  The guy who’s in that show. 

I shall continue to do all the things I’ve done for years -- read at my normal voracious rate (162 books this year); see films; garden; attend plays and concerts; engage in meaningful conversation; be a political animal; take an interest in children and young adults; volunteer; pretend to exercise; try to eat less; curb my temper; let some things go; write even more and most of all continue to resist a routine existence.  It’s worth it.

I’m just saying…

Flirting 2.0

The hardest thing for a writer to do (well, at least this writer...) is to revise something they've previously written, especially if it means cutting WORDS!  My friend John suggested I submit one of my blog posts to an Essay Contest.  But here's the rub, the submission had to be 500 words.  I took my nearly 700 word recent post on "Flirting" and cut it to the bone and frankly, I think I improved it.  Just goes to show the old adage "Edit, Edit, Edit" is true.  So, humor me as I reprint the revised and slimmed down version of my recent post. (And, wish be luck in the Essay contest!)

Is Flirting a Thing of the Past?

Someone flirted with me today.  Frankly that doesn’t happen much anymore.  My reaction was dumb.  I said “Excuse me?” and when he repeated the compliment, I giggled.  The man was near my age (50ish) and had the roguish good looks of a life-long flirt.  Twenty five years ago I would have pegged him as “a bad boy”.  I was always drawn to bad boys.  I tried to redeem myself with a stab at intelligent conversation before I escaped.  Oddly, that little exchange made me nostalgic for the days when I was in the game, “out there” or to be blunt -- just younger and better looking.

The very first time someone flirted with me I was about 13 and in line at McDonald’s.  Obviously it made a huge impression given how I can recall it now, some 46 years later.  I had on an outfit purchased with my baby sitting money and was with a friend, not my parents.  “One small fries and a coke.” I said.  The young man behind the counter responded, not sure what he said I politely repeated my order.  He smiled and suddenly I realized he heard me-- he just wants me to notice him.  I was keenly aware that in spite of being 13 (albeit tall for my age), this boy wanted me to notice him.  I left McDonald’s a new woman.  This was a 16 year old boy, not some 7^th grader poking me in the back or my Dentist patting me on the head.  

Thus began the slow, delicious dance of romance; the give and take of mutual attraction; the heady feeling of first love usually followed by the crushing blow of heartache.  You’d think by now I’d be well out of this flirting thing.  I’ve had my fair share of crushes, a few first loves, one or two serious flings and a couple of husbands.  But, just short of 60, I’m back to square one.  Over the years I grew accustomed to men’s attentions (although I didn’t always welcome them.); but in my mid-50s I began to notice something -- I was becoming invisible.  Mostly I was invisible to younger people and to men of all ages.  

The decline of flirting was a relief at first.  Throwing on a raincoat over my pajamas for a quick run to 7-Eleven became a possibility, accomplished with nary a glance from the guys in the next car or the old coot buying cigarettes. They didn’t see me – but that’s okay, I didn’t want to be seen.  But for pity’s sake, I’m not dead!  I rarely go out without my hair in place and a little lipstick.  Today’s tiny little exchange made me feel good.  Okay, maybe this guy gives everyone a little ego boost, maybe he always says something to women – young or old.  I really don’t care, because for a moment I was back in line at McDonald’s and it was all ahead of me.

 

Is Flirting a Thing of the Past?

            I think someone flirted with me today.  Why say “I think.”?  Well, frankly, because it doesn’t happen that much anymore.  And even though I thought I didn’t miss it, I realized that I really do.  I’m ashamed to say that my reaction to this flirting was dumb.  First I said “Excuse me?” and when he repeated the compliment, I laughed.  This man was in my age group (50ish) and had the look and demeanor of a life-long flirter.  He had roguish good looks – the kind of guy who 25 years ago I would have called “the bad boy type”.  I was always drawn to the bad boys, many good girls are.  Anyway, I attempted to redeem myself and have a short intelligent conversation before I made my escape.  Funny how that little interlude made me nostalgic for the days when I was in the game, “out there” (as George Constanza’s Mother would say) or to be blunt -- just younger and better looking. 

I can remember the very first time someone flirted with me.  I was probably about 13 and in line at the MacDonald’s in Eastover, MD.  Obviously it made a huge impression on me since that was 47 years ago.  I had on an outfit I’d bought with my baby sitting money and I was with a friend, not my parents.  I ordered fries and a coke and the young man behind the counter said something to me.  Not sure what he said, I politely repeated my order.  He just looked at me and smiled.  I mean really smiled -- with his eyes, his lips and his whole being.  Suddenly, I realized, he heard me-- he just wanted me to notice him.  God knows what I said, but I was keenly aware that in spite of being 13 (albeit tall for my age) and new to the game, this boy wanted me to notice him.  I walked away from MacDonald’s that day a new woman.  I had caught the eye of a 16 or possibly 17 year old boy.  This wasn’t some kid in the 6^th grade poking me in the back or my Dentist patting me on the head -- this was flirting.  I liked it. 

Thus began the slow dance of romance – the give and take of mutual attraction that culminates in the thrill of first love, heartbreak and an eventual adult relationship.  By now you’d think I’d be well versed in this flirting thing and pretty much done with it.  After all, I’ve had my share of crushes, two or three ‘first’ loves, a couple of serious flings and two husbands.  But I find, just short of 60, I may be back to square one.  Throughout my teens, 20s, 30s, and 40s, I grew accustomed to the attention of men (even though I didn’t always welcome it.)  But sometime around my mid-50s I began to notice something – I was becoming invisible.  Not to my friends, family, or colleagues, but to younger people in general and to men (young and old) in particular.  I’m not going to examine that whole invisibility thing in “older” women, because it’s been done and much better than I could do it.  This is merely about flirting. 

I think the gradual decline of flirting was a relief at first.  Putting a raincoat over your pajamas for a quick run to the 7-Eleven became a possibility, accomplished with nary a glance from the guys in the next car or the old coot buying cigarettes.  They don’t see you – but that’s okay, you don’t want to be seen.  But wait, I’m not dead!  I still care about my appearance and rarely go out without my hair in place and a little lipstick.  Though not a huge deal, today’s tiny little exchange made me feel good.  Maybe this guy gives everyone he waits on a little ego boost, maybe he always says something to women – young or old.  I really don’t care.  Why?  Because for a moment I was back in line at MacDonald’s and it was all ahead of me.   

I’m just saying…