Let's Pretend It's Zen

So at this very moment, I'm sitting in my office on a Saturday, and I want so very badly to avoid doing what I should be doing that I'm going to update my blog.  It's not that I don't want to update my blog, it's just that my last post was going-on-a-year ago and should have been followed up with more details of my (soooooo great!) trip to Peru, and I feel somewhat sheepish about even posting after never having gone to the trouble of uploading my pictures and giving you a rundown of my (soooooo great!) vacation, but, hey, that was a long while ago, and I'm meant to get better at living in the moment, right?  Let's pretend it's zen, rather than laziness, that has me posting this here right now.

Life continues apace, and to while life is undeniably good, I'm having some adjustment difficulties with the transitional nature of my early fifties.  For such a long time now, I've defined myself by my relationships to other people.  Parent, mostly, but also husband and partner to some (relatively minor) extent, and right now I'm facing a time where it could all be about me.  Me me me.  My younger daughter is in her senior year of high school, and her plans are in no way shape or form set, but they definitely included going somewhere else.  My older daughter is currently teaching elementary school in Cochabamba, Bolivia, and I reckon she'll be back stateside in a year or so, but I think there's a good chance she'll move to another part of the country. 

In the past, at least since I came out, when the twin time sinks of work and parenthood allowed me any free time, I mostly used that time for horizontal pursuits.  And I have been really good and successful with that, but if I'm going to have more time and/or mental energy freed up by the diminution of parental responsibilities, I don't think that bedding men is going to be enough.  And, honestly, while I feel like my slut years represent time well spent, I am getting to the point where the hunt has gotten both easier and less fulfilling than it used to be.  I kind of want something more.  Or maybe something else.  I feel like if I'm going to be on my own, then I need to be more interesting to myself. 

I've been doing some dating recently, and I guess it would be nice if that turned into something more long term, but I just don't think I'm ever going to be any good at dating.  I don't know how it is that Logo hasn't approached me to do a reality show where they shoot me going on dates and then bring in a panel of experts to tell the viewers what I'm doing wrong.  I think that could be both comical and instructive.  I usually know what I'm doing wrong, of course, but I seem to be powerless to stop doing it.  Part of it is that the available dating pool is mostly crazy men, but most of it is my own misdeeds.  And, truly, I don't mind all that much.  I am more amused than abashed by my misadventures.  And I think being more successful at dating probably would require me to be someone I'm not, and I'd sooner not bother.

Anyway, dating isn't the answer.  Working more/harder (God, no) isn't the answer.  Having more sex isn't the answer (Too bad: is there some way I can make myself shallow enough so that I could find having lots and lots of casual sex to be nourishing to my soul?  If there is, let me know, ok?).  But the answer(s) is(are) out there.  And, hey, maybe posting regularly is a good start.  If so, I'll probably post again soon.  If not, then you'll probably here from me again next April or so.