The art of dating when you are in your 40’s is a perilous, soul destroying mission. I blame my never ending search for ‘happy ever after’ on my parents, who with the best of intentions invariably reared me on the “Fairy Tale Factor”.
It was easier in my 20’s. Mr Right had hair; his own teeth – I could search in the 20’s man pool. Now, my toe has to slink into the 50’s pool. And when you finally find one that meets the minimum requirements, humorous, can string a sentence together, you don’t physically shudder upon meeting; you find out they don’t come with baggage – they come with whole other thing. A veritable harridan of a wife who hasn’t quite made it to the ‘ex’ list as yet; and she is clinging to his back like a hump.
Friday, February 1, 2013
Anywhere but here…
I’m not sure I want to be here anymore.
I am the outsider in my own home. I feel as though any discussion that breaks
the barrier of “Squeeze” family business; is just that. Family business.