It's raining men...Halleluah...not so quick

My marriage is ending and I find myself returning to the blissful meadow or more likely, mine field, of dating. The re-focusing of one's mind from a single person, purpose, goal and life to checking out the field of prospects is interesting to say the least.

I went to a religious conference on Friday. The event spoke about bringing Christian values in to the work place. Interesting concept, interesting speakers, interesting that I felt surrounded by men who I viewed as a meat market. Tall, short, fat, thin, bald, long hair, short hair, black, white, business suits, casual gear...all loving the Lord (and probably their wives too). Young spicy numbers, classy mature men, the 40-ish crowd looking confident and set with their worlds. The 30-somethings, still young enough to be dangerous but smart enough to know what they are doing. Late-teens with tons of stamina and energy, 20s with stamina and a bit of imagination. The variety is staggering but put them through a mental filter, test the waters and you realize the “game” remains the same.

There are the men who you barely look at with egos so huge that they think you are in love immediately. Guys who fall like a ton of bricks for you, only to treat you like you have HPV and various other “friends” when they find out you have a child...or they ask for money and you treat them like they have the plague if you are smart.

Rich men who think you only want their money, poor men who only want your money. Sex hounds who say, “Hello, when are we going to rent a motel room?” The motel is needed because he lives with his mom and she won't allow booty-calls in her house. Men who won't touch you until you are properly wed, but are so horny they most likely will mount any vibrating appliance in the house, a washer on the spin cycle is always good for a cheap thrill...find the warm spot.
Men who chat you up, then chat you down. Men who want you to make all the moves, then damn you for being aggressive. Men who make all the moves and damn you for not being receptive.

Then there's the “Anything but black...” syndrome that seems to have grown. Many men won't even give a black woman a try. This is all general, of course, I haven't been single long enough to experience them all but I know they are there...lurking and waiting to waste my time.
Looking is a daunting task, finding a “good one” is always nice. What is a good one...that varies. Even with emotional luggage, a person can open up enough to welcome new friends and relationships. Are there good men out there, of course.

Mr. romance who treats you like a lady...opens doors, holds chairs, carries your coat, lets you wear his if you are cold. He buys flowers, candy, gifts or just gives you a nice foot rub on a bad day. He listens to your personal BS and of course, you listen to his because he wants to share.
The regular old “blue-collar guy,” this guy isn't fancy, isn't really romantic, certainly isn't going to shower you with tons of high-priced gifts but hey, you know when this guy loves you. There is no question about it. You'll be his “old lady” and when he says that, he'll mean it.

Sir with the slow hand, filled with passion and knows how to show it. This would be the opposite of Mr. Speedy Gonzales who wants to take you immediately to a motel. He takes his time, shows affection and lets you figure out when/if more will happen. If you decide more will happen, he makes it worth your while.

There are more men, of course, but dating remains the same. Tell to much and you risk blowing it all. Tell to little and the same could happen. Rejection is a bitter pill to swallow but it won't kill you. Whether it's their loss or your shot down dream, it's best to remember if one passes you buy, another will be along. Just wait for him and be ready when he shows up.

Cube news...

As I sat in my cubicle today pretending to work while actually emailing a co-worker about a photo he sent, our HR director bounced by. I usually ignore her when she bounces but the sudden ca-clack sound made as she passed caused me to look up. She was, of course, gone by the time I looked but she left a calling card.

Our cubes are metal hand-me-downs from some company that thought industrial metal with fake rivits and purple cloth trim and black borders was good looking. In reality, the metal tends to be cold and industrial, the purple is a weak attempt at accents and the black is just, well, black. Anway...I'm surrounded by metal.

As I looked to the area that generated the sound, I saw something new...my last name. I immediately didn't like it. I suddenly feel like a dog in a kennel...My name is (fill in blank). I have been here for almost two years, paid poorly but I am getting a raise soon. I should appreciate the company's efforts to make this a good workplace but that doesn't stop me from job hunting.

I commend my new employers (the company was bought about a year ago). They have provided new computers, phone system, working environment and mo' money. However, growth in the job is stagnant. I'm writing the same types of things I wrote 5 years ago...no growth potential. Instead of a malignant cancerous tumor that at least grows, my job resembles the benighn variety...a living lump of flesh that just takes up space without purpose. At least I have some fun co-workers.



Today, someone asked if black people could sunburn. You funny white folk.

“That Kid...”

I've learned a few life lessons this week...either learned them or got a refresher course. Maybe I shouldn't call them life lessons...maybe they are just moments to remember and ponder about people and the world.

The week started typically with work on Monday...nothing special. Life's curve balls usually come at you when you aren't looking. Off the top of my head I would have to say the curve came Thursday in an employee meeting in the form of new rules to govern the staff. I knew they were coming so I was not surprised. What amazed me was the dichotomy in reactions...youthful naivety to mature rebellion. I am more on the mature side of the issue, however, the mature people already knew there is no fighting this dictate. It is to be managed, like any other new unpopular rule brought down upon us by the 'benevolent dictator,' a name embraced by the person in question and NOT given by me.

The youthful naivety ranged from, “these rules aren't so bad – it's better than the last place i worked,” to “now people who aren't working will have to work.” Maybe I am getting old but both attitudes show a level of youthful ignorance that amused me. The attitude that this is better than the last place I worked is short-sighted. If you worked in a cesspool, then almost anything is better. The rules making someone do their job, that's just ignorant. Nothing can make a person work, only themselves. As i predicted and warned, the people that were supposed to jump up and be there for the new set hours did not follow them. All the workers who do their work follow the new rules. Oh the folly of youth.

Now to the neurosis part. Complaining about the rules to a co-worker yielded a bizarre response that led me to realize “that kid” can sometimes grow into “that adult.” So who is “that kid?” You know...the kid who had no friends, was neurotic and when you tried to be friends with this person they had a panic attack and YOU ended up in trouble for “bothering that kid.”

I shared my frustrations with the new rules with a co-worker and somehow my opinions and complaining became an attack...at least to this person. How this person heard me calling names and making accusations in a few gripes about the boss, i have no idea...then i realized...OH, this person is “that kid,” now “that adult.”

I have to wonder what makes “that kid” and further wonder how “that adult” won't fix whatever it is that makes them so neurotic. They have to know it's not a desirable quality.