Moving Up, Out, In, and On: One More Trip Around the Sun

Greetings, Dear Reader. It's been a month since we last met, and I have had so much to tell, but I have been holding my breath. I've been waiting for the right moment to exhale, the moment when I can trust that everything is actually happening just as it should, and in the most wonderful way. I think that the moment to exhale is now. So I breathe out. I want to sing and dance and shout with delight from rooftops...instead, I exhale. Whoosh. I exhale, and I write.

Suddenly, I don't know where to begin. There is so much tremendous, unbelievable, wonderful stuff happening in this middle-aged divorcee's life right now! It's all so interconnected that I can't really tell it in chronological order, though. I think I can sum it up with three different champagne celebrations that all happened in the same week, starting with my birthday. Just try to follow along, as life is happening at lightning speed.

Champagne Celebration #1 - Veuve Clicquot

 My 41st birthday was two weeks ago. I wasn't really planning to celebrate for a couple reasons: my birthday was on a Thursday, 41 is not a milestone like 40, and although close, it's not yet the answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything. Really, 41 is just a prime number that signals the start of The Forties. So, I was happy to keep it low-key and accepted a friend's invitation for birthday dinner at her house after work. When I got there, though, I found a whole party with surprise guests, ice cream cake, balloons, a confetti cannon, champagne...truly the best birthday ever! It was my first ever surprise party, but I have always wanted one. Now that it's out on the internet, though, I pretty much expect surprise parties all the time for the rest of my life. Just sayin'.

Champagne Celebration #2 - Perrier Jouet

On my birthday weekend, I went to the casino and gambled for the second time in my life. As a math teacher, I basically subscribe to the old adage that gambling is a sport for people who don't understand mathematics. However, I am evidently living a charmed life, so I won. Clarification: I didn't just win, I haplessly won BIG.

Here's how I did it. I sat down at the Super Fun 21 table and changed $40 that I was fully committed to losing into eight $5 chips. (Step 1: don't bet anything you can't afford to lose.)  I dutifully placed $5 bets until I had 16 $5 chips. Then I made a little stack of my original eight chips and vowed not to touch that pile. (Step 2: set aside the money that you were committed to losing.) From that point, I set little rules for myself: If, and only if (my math peeps will love this: IFF...), I won at least two hands in a row, I allowed myself to add a single $5 chip to my bet. If (not IFF) I lost a hand, I removed that $5 chip. (Step 3: Take a loss as a sign, and take action immediately.) As you can see from the photo, my friend T and I both walked out as happy winners. To be precise, the $320 in my hand is what remained after tipping our dealer and buying the celebratory bottle of PJ on our way home. MathMercy ultimately made ten times her initial bet, walking out with $400 from her initial $40 investment.

Champagne Celebration #3 -Moët & Chandon

This is the big one. This is the huge one. This is the "holy shit life is good" one. This is the one that really symbolizes the rest of my life. A little back story: about a week before my birthday, my casino/surprise birthday party friend was looking at rentals because, for the second time in as many years, her landlord decided to sell her house. She had wistfully strayed from the rentals and was looking at real estate. Around 9:30p on that fateful Thursday, she asked me "Do you want to buy a house?" I sent an email to my parents at 9:58pm asking what they thought about me entering a home-buying partnership. Less than 48 hours later, we had financing approved and were well on our way to gathering what was needed for a down payment on a mini-farm on the Peninsula.

We didn't end up getting that first mini-farm. Thank goodness, because we found another house for $50,000 less that is absolutely perfect for us. Because I am a woman, and women navigate using landmarks, I have to landmark this path. It started on June 8, 2013, when my ex-husband walked out on me. At the time, I was totally blind-sided as the life that I knew came crashing down around me. On June 8, 2015, exactly two years to the day since my ex-husband left, we placed an offer on the house. The next day, our offer was accepted, so now we are just waiting on the sale to close. I bought the Moët & Chandon to celebrate, and to reflect on landmarks.

Life happens, and man, does it happen fast. When I went to the credit union to essentially liquidate all my savings for the down payment on the house, I had a moment of panic. I have worked really hard to build a savings account in these past two years of being a single lady, and withdrawing all of that money was scary. However, it wasn't nearly as scary as the fact that exactly two years prior, I was visiting one of those "cash for gold" places to exchange my single earrings and broken chains for gas money.

As it turns out, when you are living a charmed life, good things happen to you. When you choose to surround yourself with supportive friends and family, you have everything you need. We have been able to utilize friends and family for everything from temporary storage to our mortgage loan to our real estate agent, and it has been so easy. I am reminded of a book I had to read back when I was a dancer, called Zen in the Art of Archery. Clicking the link will download a pdf copy that you can (and should) read. The book teaches that in order to become an archer (or a dancer or just about anything else), one must learn to breathe properly with no knowledge of breathing, to Be without Being. I adapt the lessons for myself as Buy a House without being a Home Buyer. Perhaps after we close, I will write "Zen in the Art of Home Buying". (Step 1: Find a friend with whom you can live for the next 30 years....)

Two years ago, I thought life as I knew it had ended, and I was right. What I didn't realize is that I needed that life to end so I could discover the life that I am meant to live. I am meant to live a life of delicious risks, surrounded by kids, love, chickens, honey bees, friends, family, and walls that I OWN. I feel like I'm dreaming. Every day is the first day of my rest of my life, and I simply can't wait to wake up to greet each morning..

Crushing It

I have recently undergone a fairly radical mindset shift about dating. It started with a friend sharing this great article. I strongly recommend reading the whole article, but it can be summed up with what the author dubs The Law of "Fuck Yes or No":

The Law of “Fuck Yes or No” states that when you want to get involved with someone new, in whatever capacity, they must inspire you to say “Fuck Yes” in order for you to proceed with them.

The Law of “Fuck Yes or No” also states that when you want to get involved with someone new, in whatever capacity, THEY must respond with a “Fuck Yes” in order for you to proceed with them.

The article led me to a revelation that I do a pretty good job of applying "Fuck Yes or No" to most aspects of my life, but not so much with dating. I've been taking it far too seriously for my intended end goal. I needed to consider what I really do and don't want, what makes me say "Fuck Yes!" and what makes me say "Fuck No!" I am relearning to have fun with no expectations of anything beyond the moment. Guess what? It works. Before I continue, I would like to, as always, offer apologies to my mother for the remainder of this post. Love you, Mom! 

Here's the deal: I've spent the past year and a half not looking for a relationship, but essentially vetting potential suitors as though I were. If I'm not looking to have a boyfriend hanging around and don't plan to introduce the dude to my friends and family, it's just inefficient to invest a bunch of time trying to learn if we're compatible. Right? Frankly, I really won't care how many siblings you have or what your middle name is until I know that there's a reason for me to remember those things. Short of meeting your family (which means that I have agreed to be in a relationship), I can almost guarantee that I'll forget anyway. If I'm probably not going to see you more than a couple times, is it worth wasting my energy with useless trivia? Fuck no! Sure, a gal has to protect herself and try to learn something about a guy, but girlfriends, text messages, Google, and GPS offer a nice level of security for stepping out of your comfort zone.

So where does this revelation leave me? Frankly, closer to the one night stand than I care to admit. Only I just did. Publicly. On the internet. You know what? Fuck it. Am I having fun? Fuck Yes! The universe agrees with me, as it chose to wake me with this today:

Too early to get anything on, but a nice thought to start the day.

Totally not trying to brag here, but MathMercy has been crushing this single lady thing recently. The short list:

1. A guy tells me that he's had a crush on me for years and offers to get a hotel room real quick. I am super flattered but refuse because he has a lovely family life and I don't think he really wants to jeopardize that. Later that night, I start to regret my decision (What do I have to lose? Nothing!) and think I should call him, but my cell phone battery is dead. Thank goodness. At least I won't have that on my soul if there is ever a day of reckoning. 
2. In a one-time departure from our normal friendly routine, a former crush of mine told me that I "kiss like a porn star." Best compliment ever! If only there were some sot of dating resume' - you can bet I would include that comment under "References."
3. Can't believe it took this long, but I received my first ever "DTF?" message the other day. I really wish I could say that I instantly shut it down. Alas, the flesh is weak, so I entertained the thought. I thought to myself, "I don't know. Maybe I am DTF." That actually happened in my own brain! The horror! So instead of shaming the guy or ignoring the message, I commend him on his frankness and tell him I would probably need to meet over a drink or something first so I could at least pretend that it was spontaneous. He has not responded yet. Perhaps it was the first time he's actually received a reply to that message and he just doesn't know what to do with it.
4. Apparently, I am DTF. This guy and I had been talking about meeting somewhere for a first date in a couple days, but then he dared me to just come over to his condo that night instead. I thought about it for a few minutes, said "Fuck Yes" to myself, sent the plan and address to my girlfriend (who promptly started internet stalking the location), and went on my way. During my short time in the dude's gorgeous condo, I officially became a cougar. I think. What's the age difference criteria on that, anyway?

Witch Update
I believe I have discovered the almost completely useless purpose for my apparent witch powers. You know how MathMercy's witchy self channeled Heidi Klum to sing her "Happy Birthday" last week? Well, I don't think it was for me. The next morning, I was texting with a friend who is not on Facebook and wasn't able to make it to Rob's memorial. It got me thinking about another old friend who is not on Facebook and I really don't want to lose touch with, so I sent a "thinking of you" message to him. A minute later, this friend called me to chat and thank me for calling him on his birthday. I probably spent about five minutes accusing him of being a liar before I became (mostly) satisfied that he was not just fucking with me. Later that day, I asked a mutual friend to confirm if it was really the first friend's birthday. The response was something along the lines of a hearty thanks for reminding her that it was indeed first friend's birthday.

So there you have it. Apparently, I am a witch with the particular skill of sensing birthdays that are not posted on Facebook. Hopefully, there will be a day soon when all of my Luddite friends join the Facebook crowd so everyone will know their birthday and there is no longer a need for my powers. Until then, MathMercy, Agnostic Mathematician will be polishing her crystal ball.

Black Magic Woman

I half-suspected the witchiness to subside once I made it public, but the complete opposite has happened. It's probably just because I'm thinking about it that I am noticing it more, but I don't know. If I turn off my inner skeptic, it's pretty easy to believe that I am more receptive to cosmic energy right now. Following that logic(?), perhaps my heightened awareness is an annual event around the time of my birth due to the alignment of the stars...

Anyway, here are the two biggest oddities and further witchy evidence of the day:

1) Mac and cheese is "a uniter, not a divider". (If you don't get the reference, you are way too young, but let me help you out with that: http://lmgtfy.com/?q=uniter+not+a+divider.) Mac and cheese united deliciously on my FB news feed and in my belly this week:

 
2) Heidi Klum is totally in on it. Here is proof: 

I didn't want to mention it in my original Witchy Woman post, but a prior witch precedent has been established in my family. My dad sent me the following message today "You know that your mother is a witch?" I replied that I remembered stories, but I didn't want to "out" her on the internet. That was before I channeled a supermodel to sing me "Happy Birthday", though. So, yeah. Apparently, my family business is witching and as the eldest daughter in my extended family, the universe is grooming me to take over. I'm not sure I can handle that kind of responsibility.

Witchy Woman

As a mathematician, I am a woman who puts her faith in numbers, data, science...you know, reality. However, I also know that there are things around us that can't be quantified, categorized, or defined. I guess you could call me MathMercy, Agnostic Mathematician.

Having told you that, I have a confession. Here goes. In addition to being MathMercy, Agnostic Mathematician, I'm pretty sure that I am also a witch. (Yes, I meant to type Witch, smart ass. Bitch stands for Being In Total Control of Herself...and that's no secret. Bam.) Believe me, I know how super weird and hippy-dippy sounding it is for me to just come out and say that I am a Witch, but it comes from a scientific standpoint: I can't deny empirical evidence. Read on and tell me what you would call it, if not Witch.

So, there is an inexplicable phenomenon that happens to me around this time of year, where I am somehow apparently tapped in to totally random and, thus far, useless cosmic forces. It's like phrases that suddenly show up everywhere, coincidences and feelings of deja vu that are just too persistent to be random. Unfortunately, none of this seemingly super cosmic connected-ness ever proves to be useful information like winning Mega-Millions numbers. On the other hand, I never buy Lotto tickets because the mathematician in me has a hard time seeing lottery tickets as anything other an idiot tax. Stupid math. I probably could have been a Mega-Millionaire by now. Anyway, here are some witchy examples on a scale from Kind of Odd to What the Fuck.

1. Last week, I was at a friend's house when she Googled the name of Natalee Holloway, that poor girl that disappeared in Aruba 10 years ago. Yesterday morning, the first news story I read was about new evidence in the case. Kind of Odd.
2. On Saturday, I ended a Facebook post with "Everything's coming up Mercy". One of my brothers picked up on the Simpsons reference and threw 'Everything's coming up Milhouse' back at me. That doesn't count as witchy, but this might: On Sunday, I tuned in to TCM right as Rosalind Russell broke out into "Everything's Coming Up Roses" in the movie, Gypsy. Three references in a sixteen hour period? Everything's Coming Up Weird. 
3. On the morning of May 5, I was moving a raised bed garden box frame to a different spot in my yard. As I moved the frame, I had this sudden memory of how my ex-husband's stepfather had given that garden box to me exactly two years ago to the day, when I saw him for the last time on Cinco de Mayo weekend. I was feeling a little poignant about that memory when I received an email an hour later. The email was from my ex-husband (totally harmless, just needing some information), from whom I probably hadn't heard for six months or more. Um, This is Getting Spooky now.
4. Earlier tonight, I took a silly little online quiz to see what it thought I was in a past life. Eight questions later, it spits out the result in the picture below and I say What. The. Fuck. and throw my phone down like a hot potato.

http://en.what-character-are-you.com/d/en/1101/index/6321.html

"...sense and intuit almost automatically what is going on within the people and the nature around you" finally gives words to my weird Spring psychic sense that I couldn't explain. It's all about recognizing patterns. I am pretty sure it still works within my mathy raison d'etre, as expressed in my favorite math thriller film, Pi. (Okay, you got me. I can't really think of any other math thriller films off the top of my head. Pi is still my favorite, though.)

1. Mathematics is the language of nature. 2. Everything around us can be represented and understood through numbers. 3. If you graph these numbers, patterns emerge. Therefore: There are patterns everywhere in nature. 

So there you have it. The evidence keeps mounting and it all points to MathMercy, Agnostic MathWitch. I don't yet know how to channel my witch energies for good, but I am working on it. I'll be sure to let you know if I hit the jackpot. In the meantime, I'm auditioning potential theme music.

Update (12 hours later): Oh my goodness. It just happened again. A couple weeks ago, a friend returned from Hawaii with a gift of tea from the Hanalei Tea Company. A certain demographic will understand why this box of tea has me singing "Puff the Magic Dragon" on a pretty much daily basis. Recall that I work from home, so TV is just part of my rainy day routine. Also, like every other middle-aged white woman in America, I freaking love Wayne Brady, so I like to watch Let's Make A Deal. Anyway, this dude on LMAD just picked "H for my daughter's middle name, Hanalei". It was probably spelled differently, but when Wayne Brady said "Oh, like in 'Puff the Magic Dragon'?", the dude totally agreed. If that isn't proof that I am being followed by Magic, I don't know what is.

Catching Up

I've been out of the blogosphere for months. There has been lots to write but I was just too busy and then there was more to write but then I was busier...and then I was reminded that there is nothing worse than missing the chance to say the things that need to be said. For more on that, please check out the new Remembering Rob page I have added to the blog. I will just be adding new entries to the bottom of that page and may not announce updates, so just check back if you're missing Rob. (It might notify you of updates if you "follow" the blog, but I really have no idea.)

This post shall serve as my MercyDates catch up post. It was originally going to include a whole potpourri of holidays and friends and family and football and philosophy, but I think it's easier to just go back to the basics. In other words: can MathMercy get a date? 

I was about to say that I haven't been dating so there's not much to report, but since I haven't written anything about dating for about half a year, I do have some things to tell. I guess the best way to catch up is to give a little run-down of the methods I have employed since we last met.

Tinder

I believe the last dating method I mentioned here was Tinder. Here's the thing about Tinder. Plain and simple, it's a hook-up app. I was enchanted by the mutual consent to communicate aspect, but when you get right down to it, it's a hook-up app. That's fine if you're looking for that, and I'll admit at the time, I kinda was. (Don't you dare judge me. MathMercy has needs that hadn't been met for a while.) However, the only guy I saw more than once turned out to be, in a word, creepy. 

Tinder Guy was super cute, had a really cool job (verified by Google!), was smart, artistic, a great conversationalist, and a good kisser. The only drawback after our first date was that his divorce wasn't final yet, so he was technically still a married man. He was separated, though, so I decided to let that be his problem, not mine. A few days after our third or fourth date, he sent me a text and asked if I would be willing to lock him in chastity. I had no idea what that meant, so he explained that it meant he wanted to give me the key to a lock around, um, his junk. I'm not sure if the lock is to prevent the guy from starting or finishing, but he said it would allow him to devote himself to my pleasure and be my slave. Let me stop right here and tell you that the most I had done with Tinder Guy up to this point was give him a massage. I do give a damn fine back rub but I'm not sure that it's good enough to merit someone becoming my own personal slave. Maybe, though. I probably need lots of hunky men with sore backs to test out just how magic these hands are. ;)

I wish I could say that I ran screaming from that conversation right away. I really, really do, but I have to be completely honest in my blog confessional. In my defense, I've been out of the game for so long...for all I know, this might be considered a semi-normal part of the courtship ritual these days. I mean, 50 Shades of Grey put S&M and soft-core porn in the hands of millions of bored housewives and PTA moms for heaven's sake. I decided I needed to bring this to committee. I presented the proposal to my Vegas traveling companions and asked what they thought. On the one hand, oh my gosh holy shit SO WEIRD, right? How many keys was Tinder Guy handing out to Tinder dates that he barely knows anyway? On the other hand, it had been a long time since I'd had a man offer to do anything I wanted him to do. Maybe he just meant he would come over and change light bulbs, take the trash out to the curb, cook, clean my house naked (except for the junk lock of course), and then go home. If I'm being completely honest, that wouldn't be so bad. (I'm laughing right now, remembering how Rob always talked about finding a "houseboy" to come live in our apartment and do exactly that for us. He would have been so proud.) I decided such an arrangement would require some sort of contract stating that I held the only key, and such a contract was way more commitment than I wanted with anyone. Done with Tinder Guy. Done with Tinder.

OK Cupid

After leaving Tinder, I decided to give OK Cupid a try. I know four happy OK Cupid couples, including two weddings I've attended in the past year, so why not give it a shot? The basic account is free like Plenty of Fish and Tinder, but what sets it apart from those sites is that you answer roughly a zillion questions to try to get a perfect match using some fancy algorithm. Trying to find the end of the questions became like a game to me during the first week or two, which meant I was on the app a lot. I got lots of hits, went on dates with a few different guys who turned out to be as good at blowing people off as I am.

The most recent disappearing paramour was really cool. We had a pretty hot text flirtation going for a couple weeks, and when we finally had our first date, we hit it off right away. We had a great time each time we met and things were progressing pretty rapidly. After our 4th or 5th date, he started texting less frequently. He said something about a family emergency taking him back to Texas for a week...and then another...and then he stopped initiating text messages...and then I figured that either he was honestly way too busy for me or I was getting the world's longest and most passive aggressive blow-off. Either way, I'm out.

After that experience, I just wasn't inspired to invest any more energy in trying to meet or get to know someone through the site anymore. I still log on every now and then to read messages that have been sent to me, but none have caught my attention and I'm no longer browsing for a date. In summary, I'm so glad that I know so many happy couples who met through the site, but for me, OK Cupid was just OK. Turns out that just OK is just not enough to combat my short attention span and lazy tendencies.

The Pick-Up and The Set-Up
Outside of online dating, I have tried some more traditional methods of meeting a date: the Pick-Up and the Set-Up. The Pick-Up happens when a middle-aged divorcee unexpectedly finds herself out with a crazy friend on a Saturday night and decides to see if she can do the Pick-Up. She can. I don't know why I feel the need to defend the last shred of my questionable honor here, but I do: It only happened once.

The Set-Up is actually very sweet, but impractical. The Set-Up is a date arranged and chaperoned by a concerned mother playing matchmaker. My first matchmaker was my friend's Jewish Russian mother (it doesn't get more perfect than that!), who dated me and her sweet Russian friend. The second matchmaker is my mother's friend, who dinner party dated me and her cute psychiatrist neighbor. I like the idea of having someone else vet a potential date for me and be there to keep the conversation flowing, but then the matchmaker mom becomes a middle-man mom and it's probably awkward if the dude isn't actually that into me...or needs the mom as a translator. Anyway, the Set-Up hasn't resulted in any second dates for me.

Lowered Expectations
Remember this from Mad TV?

Sigh. I joined a professional matchmaking service, a service that happens to include filming a video profile. I'm not proud of it, but you have to admit that it is the logical next step in my journey. I have actually paid money for someone else to find me potential dates for the next three years. That is the epitome of laziness.

Here are all my ridiculous rationalizations: I may not be looking for a husband, but nor do I want to be a crazy cat lady spinster in my forties. They plan activities for me. All the members are pre-screened with credit and criminal background checks as a condition for membership, so dudes are (theoretically) the same as represented by their profile and photos, and all the photos are taken in-house by a professional photographer. Even if I don't get a single date out of the membership, I could justify it by saying that I just paid a butt-load of money for my first ever Glamour Shots, which could possibly be a business expense if instead of dying of embarrassment I decide to run off and become an actress in the next year. The photographer did a great job and my friend had transformed me with a curling iron and makeup brushes, so I'm willing to say the photos alone are worth it.

Ok, are you ready for the real punchline? It turns out the company was formerly known as Great Expectations, the same one spoofed by Mad TV. I have truly Lowered Expectations. Hilarious!