3lastnamesblog

The Universe Has Its Own Plan January 31, 2025

Filed under: dating,Humor,love,single,Women's Humor,Women's Issues — 3lastnamesblog @ 11:14 am
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Last Sunday my plan was to have a lazy day of hibernation which meant lighting a fire, binge watching TV, and reading a book. But before I hunkered down I wanted to go for my daily walk and to the car wash to get the filth off from the recent snow. I didn’t plan on leaving any specific time- whenever I finished my coffee and crossword puzzle.

This particular morning I didn’t put on any make-up before leaving. And when I say no make-up, I mean NOTHING- not even tinted moisturizer. Now this is quite unusual for me considering I put on lipstick to get the mail. In addition, I didn’t even bother to change out of the sweat pants I slept in- I was only going to get right back in them when I got home. I put my unwashed hair into a frizzy ponytail, and out the door I went. Let me make this very clear. I’ve had the flu and looked better. But, who am I going to see at the car wash or out walking when it’s 30 degrees?

I set off for the Seaford Carwash and when I got there the line was wrapped around the block. It wasn’t worth waiting an hour when I could go tomorrow on a weekday. So I decided to skip it and just go for my walk. I was already in Seaford, so I figured I’d take my walk at Wantagh Park which was only one traffic light ahead on Merrick Road. (I usually walk in Burns Park closer to my house.)

I parked, began my walk, and in the distance I saw someone running slowly in my direction. I was relieved to know I wasn’t the only one in the park. Then as the runner got closer there was something familiar about him. He was bundled up so I couldn’t see his hair, but wait, was that….

“O ????”, I questioned out loud. (I’m using only his initial to protect the innocent- me!) Now for those of you who don’t know, O and I broke up a year and half ago after 3 years of dating. That’s the last time we spoke- no calls, text, or emails since then. The last thing I said to him was “Fuck You!”

Now, I ask you, WHAT ARE THE CHANCES??? He’s a runner but he usually runs on the Long Beach boardwalk. Actually, our paths had randomly crossed a few times this Summer in Long Beach, but he didn’t see me and I didn’t see any reason to approach him.

But I guess the Universe wasn’t taking no for an answer.

O heard his name, looked over and stopped running. I think we both were in shock. My first thought was, “Dammit, I look like SHIT!” We began to chat with the obligatory pleasantries- how are the kids, etc… He seemed indifferent, distant and was ICY COLD toward me. Quite frankly, this was pissing me off. Did he not get the script??? He’s supposed to be on his knees begging my forgiveness, lamenting how he let the best thing that ever happened to him get away. And I’m supposed to say, “Too bad for you, that ship has sailed…”

But instead, this came out of my mouth- “You know, I may have pulled the trigger on this relationship but you locked and loaded the gun!”

This of course started a very unproductive and unnecessary discussion about our relationship. Believe me, I could have eviscerated him with my words and won this war, but why? I already had closure. And after this, if there was ever a scintilla of regret or doubt in my mind about ending the relationship, it was gone. He was never Mr. Right. He was Mr. Right Now. Thank you, Universe, for giving me the clarity I didn’t even know I needed.

O’s last words to me as he walked away was a very sarcastic “Well, see ya ‘round”.

This time I didn’t say a word. I didn’t say “Fuck You” but you can be sure my bruised ego wanted to.

Now, if this was a rom-com I’d continue on my walk and Barbra Streisand would be singing “Someone I used to Love” in the background. But it’s not a movie, it’s my real life. So instead my sister called me to tell me her refrigerator broke.

At least the encounter with O stopped me from thinking about all the other crap going on in my life, for a little while anyway. The next morning in full make-up (I learn from my mistakes) I went to get my car washed. There was a raggedy old man behind the register. He told me the price and when I handed him my credit card he looked at me and gently said, “Things will get better, don’t look so sad”. And there it was. Through this homeless looking man dressed in a flannel plaid shirt the Universe had spoken. And I listened.

Click on link to hear “Someone I Used to Love”

Wantagh Park
 

MLS is the Match.com for Real Estate January 8, 2016

Filed under: dating,love,Real Estate,single,Uncategorized,Women's Humor — 3lastnamesblog @ 11:07 pm
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Over the years I’ve come up with some interesting parables. I particularly like my “finding a mate is like shopping for shoes” and “August feels like one long Sunday”. But while selling my house, a new comparison dawned on me- Multiple Listing Services (MLS) is the Match.com for Real Estate. This goes for any of the real estate websites- Trulia, Zillow, etc.… It’s so obvious, I’m surprised no one has ever thought of it before.

To begin, you create a profile. You need to put up lots of pretty pictures that make your house look its best, highlighting the selling points. Next you add some narrative such as the neighborhood, convenience to stores or railroad, and who you think would be the ideal buyer for your home. Then, its time to talk money. But instead of your salary range like on dating websites, you give the listing price. One thing is for sure, only serious buyers need inquire.

Once you upload your profile, the waiting process begins. The profile has gotten a lot of hits, but why hasn’t any body asked to see the house? Is it not attractive enough? It looks better in person, I promise! Is it too expensive? I’m negotiable! All these doubts start sinking in. The house you once thought was move-in ready and a great value doesn’t seem so inviting anymore. Maybe I’ll paint some rooms and spiff up the curb appeal a bit.

Eventually someone appreciates the allure of your home and wants to see it. Elated and excited, you set up a time to meet; the sooner the better! When the doorbell rings you have butterflies in your stomach. Will he like me, I mean, my house? Will this be “the one”? You repeat this process many times. Some showings are longer than others. Some buyers seem more interested than others. And please, don’t get my hopes up and say you’re going to call if you have no intention of ever doing so. Occasionally you will have a second “date” and sometimes even meet their children or parents. I’ve even had contractors and engineers come, only to have the deal fall apart without any reason or warning. It’s an emotional roller coaster.

Then of course, there’s the real estate agent who plays the role of your mother. “Ya know, you’ve had your house on the market for quite a while now, maybe you should lower your price”, to which I hear, “ya know, you’re not a spring chicken anymore, maybe you should lower your standards”. Or if you get a low offer the agent will say, “Ya know, there’s a lot of competition out there”, for which I hear my mother saying “Ya know, there’s a lot of competition out there.

The neighbors like to chime in too. “Did you here the Johnsons are in contract?”, they say with pity in their eyes. The Johnsons live down the block, have the same model house as mine and have listed their house only 30 days ago for a comparable price. Their buyers never even came to see my house! Why not??? What’s wrong with me, I mean, my house?

Despair starts to set in. Where is that special someone? Where is the lid to my pot?  Maybe I should just give up my dreams and take my house off the market. NO, NO, NO! Snap out of it, girl! You know you have a beautiful, spacious home, in a prestigious neighbor. There are plenty of people that would love to live there! You must continue to be positive and move ahead with your plans!

But I am happy to say, when you least expect it, a match comes along! In my case, it wasn’t even from the website, it was from the For Sale sign on my front lawn. Love at first sight. When it’s the right one, you just know it.

And oh yeah, a match came along for me too, at yoga. Love at first sight. When it’s the right one you just know it.

 

 

 

Blog Interrupted May 22, 2013

Filed under: Humor,middle age,Mothers/daughters,single,Uncategorized,Women's Humor,Women's Issues — 3lastnamesblog @ 9:01 pm
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    I originally started blogging because I had a lot of free time, which is just a nice way of saying I had no life. But now my life is becoming busy and it’s interrupting my blog! Here’s what you’ve missed:

#1) I learned how to play Craps   I was at the Tropicana in Atlantic City. I had always watched my father play craps and I was interested in learning. So I casually sauntered up to the craps table. It was a fifteen dollar minimum bet, which for me was out of the question, so I just watched. The only thing I knew about craps was that you don’t want to throw a 7 or 11.  As the game progressed I asked questions of the man standing next to me as well as the dealer who after a while gave me that look to either bet or step away from the table. So eventually, with much trepidation, I took the plunge and placed 2 chips on the table. Apparently I placed them at a point in the game when they can’t be placed and they were handed back to me.  But the dealer talked me through and gradually I started to get the hang of the game, placing more and more chips on the table with each round. Each player seemed to get three or four chances to throw the dice and before long the dice were passed to me. So after choosing my dice I took my very first roll. The dice barely made it across the table. “SEVEN”! Oh no! I felt terrible that on my first roll I was out. But I immediately learned that at certain times of the game it is GOOD to roll a seven and that was one of them! The dice kept being returned to me and I kept rolling. There was a crowd gathering and lots of hootin’ and hollerin’. A crowd of young men in their twenties kept cheering me on, “Let’s go Shooter, C’mon Shooter!!” (Apparently I was “Shooter”.) At one point the man standing next to me told me if rolled an eight the table was going to erupt. I had no idea why I wanted an eight, but I prayed for one anyway. “EIGHT!” the stickman shouted and the table went crazy. This exhilaration continued for the better part of an hour. When my roll was finally over everyone around the table applauded and I got high fives throughout the night in the casino. I was a star.  But I forgot to mention the best part- my winnings! One dollar.

#2) I shot a gun. Well, a rifle actually. Now before you start to panic, I did not go from being a JAP (Jewish American Princess) to an NRA militia maniac (as my friend Dean put it). I simply shot at a target and was quite awful at it too. Perhaps I should have visualized an ex boyfriend or two… But, the most fun came from reading the comments to a picture I posted on Facebook of me aiming the rifle: “Oh G-d, you’ve turned into Sarah Palin” (Shelley) and “This gives new meaning to Jackie’s big guns” (Scott) as well as the myriad of inquiries if I had been kidnapped or joined a cult. Nope, none of that, just some good old fashioned red-neck fun. I reckon.

#3) I rode in the back of an ambulance. (No, this had no connection to me shooting a gun.) I was with my daughter, Gabby, who was in severe pain (She’s absolutely fine now). I called an ambulance because we needed to get to the hospital FAST! When the ambulance arrived the EMT strolled into the house like he was arriving at a garden party. “CAN YOU WALK A LITTLE F—ING FASTER PLEASE; MY DAUGHTER IS ROLLING ON THE FLOOR IN F—ING PAIN!!”  He neither altered his gate nor commented on my remark and after what seemed an eternity, we finally left for the hospital. When I inquired why we weren’t speeding and passing red lights. I was informed that only “happens in movies”.  Huh?? “YOU HAVE GOT TO BE F—ING KIDDING ME! WHY WOULD I CALL A F—ING AMBULANCE THEN? JUST YESTERDAY TWO F—ING AMBULANCES SPED BY ME!”  Where is my rifle now?? I’m pretty sure the EMT was happier to arrive at the hospital than I was. However, things weren’t much better at the hospital. It’s as if they did not see my poor daughter lying on the stretcher writhing in pain. But after much yelling and cursing and moaning and groaning (that was from me, not the patient) they finally gave her pain medication. By now it was the middle of the night and needless to say, I was a bit out of it. Thankfully my sister was with me (with Dunkin Donuts muffins and coffee of course). My daughter was finally resting quietly. The nurse asked me about diarrhea, vomiting and fever and when I told her I had none of that, my sister oh so gently reminded me, “THE NURSES ARE TALKING ABOUT GABBY, YOU IDIOT! “  I am sure the hospital staff is still talking about me.

Next up, I’m planning on going horseback riding. The last time I came close to a horse was in fourth grade. I was afraid to go near it and I threw-up from the smell.  Either I’ve evolved or I’m going to get one hell of a blog out of it.

 

Prom June 16, 2012

Filed under: Humor,Women's Humor,Women's Issues — 3lastnamesblog @ 8:53 pm
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I’m starting a support group. It’s for mothers of teenage daughters going to the prom. The first topic of discussion will be shopping for the dress. My daughter, Gabby, insisted we go to Estelle’s Dressy Dresses, along with the rest of the south shore teenage population. It was jammed with girls and their mothers all grabbing wildly for the same tacky dresses. Nobody told me I was going to need armor. But like soldiers in battle, Gabby and I kept our heads down and plowed on through until we had at least a dozen dresses to try on.

 We waited 20 minutes just to get into the dressing room. When we finally got in, it was sheer mania; hoards of hysterical girls shrieking and crying like at a Justin Bieber concert.  After navigating the mounds of dresses and hangers on the floor, we were lucky enough to find a dressing room with a semblance of a curtain.  My modest daughter had me hold the fabric tightly together so that not a crack of light could be seen through it. She didn’t want anybody seeing her get changed yet she didn’t mind coming out in a dress that exposed 90% of her body.  Naturally, every time I liked a dress I got the “Ma, are you kidding me” look.  But eventually we managed to find a dress we both liked that didn’t have a pull or snag in it. For that reason alone we had to buy it.

Next, it’s all about the hair and make-up. The appointments are set, as are the mani/pedi and eyebrows. We are still in negotiations over the spray tan.  These can all be topics for future support group sessions.  The mothers out there who have been through this before know exactly what I am talking about.  After all the pampering and primping, there’s no guarantee she’s actually going to like it. The up-do may have a strand out of place, the make-up may be a shade off, there may be a stray eyebrow hair or a dangling cuticle. Any of these can lead to an international incidence.

But that’s not all, there is more to plan for.  It seems that after the prom, the new tradition is to go to a “Prom House”.  Apparently there is security and a chaperone (probably someone’s 22 year old brother and sister).  No one is allowed out, no outsiders are allowed in. No alcohol is permitted. There is a pool but no life guard.  There are about 30 kids and they reside there for two nights. Somehow I was convinced that since they stay in one place, this is a “safer” alternative. I MUST HAVE BEEN DRUGGED!

Yes, I have completely LOST MY MIND and am allowing my daughter to stay two nights at a house in Sag Harbor with her boyfriend. The truth is, she’s been dating this boy for quite a while and he is a very reasonable, mature young man.  I trust the two of them to make responsible choices.  WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME!!?

I think I gave in partly because I am living vicariously.  I think back to my own prom, MHS 1980. I wore the same gown I wore to my sister’s wedding. I did my own hair and for make-up, my sister put eye shadow on me. I polished my own nails. What’s a pedicure? My date was “just a friend”. Is it any wonder I’m looking forward to my (I mean Gabby’s) prom?

But the truth is that my prom date and I have remained dear friends till this day. We went our separate ways romantically (no he’s not gay) but our friendship has lasted more than 3 decades. Come to think of it, Gabby should only have the enduring relationship with her prom date that I had with mine.  So, to Gabby and Danny, have a wonderful, magical time.  And remember, I AM TRUSTING YOU TO MAKE GOOD DECISIONS!!!

Hopefully Gabby and Danny won’t be drinking any alcohol, but I can assure you, I will be having plenty!

 

My Blog is My Boyfriend May 31, 2012

Filed under: Humor,single,Women's Humor,Women's Issues — 3lastnamesblog @ 2:12 am
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When I was at my therapist last week, she asked me if I’ve been dating or had an interest in anyone. I thought about it for a while and then I had an epiphany. My blog is my boyfriend.

It’s everything I’ve been looking for. “He” is good company when I’m bored. He lets me tell all my stories in great detail without interrupting.  He allows me to express myself creatively. He shares my opinions.  My friends enjoy his sense of humor. My family likes him. He relieves my stress. And most importantly, he leaves me feeling fulfilled.

I told my therapist this relationship was the real deal, one that can finally go the distance. She pointed out that I’m telling her I’m finally enjoying a relationship with someone (thing) that doesn’t talk back, has no thoughts of its own, and does whatever I say. Puzzled I ask, “Is there something wrong with that?”

I tried to explain I’m not totally crazy. I’m actually thinking rationally.  I realize there are some things my blog can’t do. ”He” can’t help around the house or take care of the kids or rub my feet. But let’s face it; does such a man even exist?  I’m aware I have to sacrifice things such as being taken out for dinner. But believe me, I can live without the scintillating conversation of “pass the butter” and “how’s your soup?”  And I don’t have to put out in the end.

I finally thought I had her convinced until she suggested we meet more often.

But I’m sticking to my guns. Don’t expect a break-up anytime soon. I’ll be sharing my stories for quite some time to come. And who knows, maybe one day I’ll meet a man with all the same qualities as my blog and I’ll be calling myself 4lastnames.