The Scent

How much does scent matter in romance? I have wondered this over the last few years as I have dated since divorcing. My mom has a theory that certain people have "The Scent." We used to tease my aunt that she had it because men would swarm around her.  We did not think she had an actual scent, but men seemed especially attracted to her. Could have been her blond hair and blue eyes?

But, some people do seem to have an ACTUAL scent that is particularly attractive to others.

I have encountered 4 men over the years that have "The Scent" that I find inexplicably attractive in a way that is intoxicating.  The first time was T. in High School.  I loved his scent. One day I came home from school and said, "is T. here? I smell him."  He had been at my house while I was out and surprised me by leaving flowers and balloons.  Everyone felt like my sense of smell ruined his surprise.

Another time The Scent hit me was when I was in college. I was sitting in the lobby of my dorm when College Guy walked by and The Scent hit me like a brick to my head. I lost all sensibility and fell for him immediately. That crush lasted longer than it should have and I am fully convinced it was because of The Scent of him.  It wasn't his Joop cologne- although I loved that smell too- but it was his skin. His neck has this scent that I felt drunk from.

Oz didn't have The Scent. I stayed much more clear headed as I delved into marriage and family.
I bought him colognes and we finally both agreed on Ralph Lauren's Romance for Men. It was a nice smell, but it wasn't The Scent.  I think I was better able to navigate life when I wasn't caught up in the smell.

I did realize after we separated that although he didn't have THE Scent, he had A Scent. One that I was used to and found comforting. So I confiscated one of his shirts and slept with it under my pillow until I was able to get used to falling asleep on my own.

Up until that point, the two times I had experienced the rush of attraction to The Scent had seemed harmless. I was young and it didn't matter as much who I found attractive or why.
But, after divorcing I realized there was a  link between "The Scent" and toxic people/relationships.

I encountered Deli Guy. He worked at a place that I took refuge in when I needed somewhere to hide while Oz visited the kids in the beginning. Deli Guy was cute and friendly and after awhile we began dating. It was a disaster on so many levels.  I knew it a couple weeks in, but stayed with him for a few more months because he had The Scent. I couldn't get enough of him.

I dated a few other guys at that time because I knew Deli Guy was not The One.

But, shortly after that,  I met...The Wild One.  I felt a magnetic attraction immediately and when I got closer to him I picked up The Scent.  Stronger than I had ever smelt it or felt it.  All logic and rational thought was out the window.  Gone.   Years of toxicity and drama ensued.  Even when I was done, I wasn't.  If he stepped past the front door and I smelled The Scent it was over.

It's not cologne, its not laundry detergent. It is unexplainable.
Something just clicks in my brain and my judgment takes flight.

One man recently did not have any scent at all. Or at least I didn't think so.  My kids thought he did. They would say I smelled like him or his house.  My friend thought he did and randomly commented on it. She thought it was his laundry detergent.  I was shocked! I don't smell a scent. Nothing at all.

My friend suggested maybe that was to protect me. Like maybe my brain knows not to create a bond because this guy wasn't sticking around? Maybe it's a built in defense mechanism to shut off my sense of smell? Or maybe it is a chemical in my brain that didn't connect with his scent?
Or maybe I was able to see his genuine qualities more clearly and appreciate them without the fogginess of The Scent.

Hmmmmm....

Got me wondering...does everyone experience The Scent at one point or another?  Does it always mean toxic bonds? Has anyone ever known their partner was The One by their scent? Does Prince Charming have a scent?

Inquiring minds want to know...

I Built Her Myself

Some days it feels like a lot of work to pull myself together. Friday was one of those days. After Oz picked up the kids for an overnight visit at his place, I took a look at myself. I had recently gotten back from a 17 hour road trip alone with 3 children.  And what was left of me was a shell of myself. And SHE was just sitting there. Not moving. Like a lump on the couch.

I reminded her that her friends were going out to see a band that she likes and that there would be dancing and that she should get herself together and start getting ready.

But, she had a lot of excuses.  She felt like she was too tired, too old and too drained of life force energy from everything she endured over the last few years. She felt sadness because she thought about the reality that her dad died and is still dead 4 years later. She thinks MS makes her tired. She gained 4 pounds but feels like it's 100. Her ex-husband is getting remarried in 3 weeks. And she feels like she is going to die alone.

She wanted to wallow in despair and pay bills and sweep the crud off the kitchen floor. She wanted to stay home on her couch and eat the fudge brownie ice cream the kids hadn't found yet while she finished binging another season of Shadow Hunters and take off her bra and put on her romper.

That was IT! Enough! I had to intervene! I could not let her her put that damn onesie on and sit around feeding her friggin' face junk food while her friends were dancing somewhere. NO!

So I pulled her off of the couch and forced her into the bathroom.  I blasted her favorite songs from her phone and threw her into the shower and strongly encouraged her to shave every inch of her Italian fur off.  She tried to get away with a quick once over with the razor, but nope! All of it!  How does it grow so freakin' fast?

I almost felt bad for her and let her put the onesie on and go back to the couch after all the effort the shaving took.  Then I remembered the dancing and my Old Self that wasn't a haggard shell and I pushed forward with my mission.

Next I worked on her hair. She protested of course and wanted to just leave it wet and put it in a messy bun like she had been doing all summer so far. But- nope! Not having it.

She complained it was dried out from the chlorine and salt water from vacation, it was in need of coloring. It was out of control.  And she was right.

 So, I took out all of my tools and turned them to the highest heat settings they had. I used the super strength oil and smoothing creme and I used the salon quality hair dryer I had splurged on for situations such as this. I sectioned the ratty hair into sections. And slowly I dried it. One section at a time.

She tried to convince me to not let her out of the house until her hair color appointment later this week. But, nope! I persisted.

Next, I slathered more oil on the hair. Then I used the flat iron. Again sectioning it. She wanted me to just run it over chunks of hair to quickly flatten it a bit.
Ummm....nope.

Section by small freaking section I smoothed and flat ironed that straw back into silk.

Not too bad!

While the curling iron heated up we worked on her face.

Oh Self, what the hell happened here??

I tried not to be angry, but seriously she hadn't used her face soap and exfoliator in so long that she couldn't even find it. WTF?!

Luckily, I dug it out from the dark hole in the closet and gave her face a good scrubbing.
The old, dead, dried out skin went away. But, the underneath layer was sunburned and reddish and had some blemishes.

 I knew she would use these as excuses to put that darn onesie on and watch tv.

SO- I convinced her it was part of looking like summer!

Before she could register that this isn't a thing- I started dabbing foundation on to blend her face a bit.  I had to admit there was no hiding the pimple on her forehead or the sunburned nose.

I decided instead to use a cream blush to highlight her cheeks and lips and leave the blemishes and "naturalness."

Hmmm....ok she was starting to perk up.

Next were the eyes.  I smudged some eyeshadow on with my finger because she couldn't find a brush and was too lazy to dig out q-tips.  SO I made due.

Not bad!
Now for the eyeliner....inside edge of the bottom lid first.

OMG! She started to look alive.  So I kept going.

Outer edge of top lids.
And one slight wing at each edge.

Ohhhhhh my!

And finally my most favorite of all make-up....Mascara!
I had saved the best for last. I knew that lash by lash I could uncover my True Self.
I still had belief she was in there.

And as I swept that black wonder across those lashes, I saw her. Her eyes sparkled. She was awake now.

Before she lost the sparkle I added a touch of brown brow pencil and BAM!!!! She was alive in there!

It was HER- the woman that likes to listen to music and go out with friends and dance!

Oh, but the outfit, her eyes dulled at the thought.

I reminded her about the black dress hanging on the hook in her room.
She protested that it wasn't actually a dress, but a beach cover up.

I had already anticipated this reaction, so I was ready with a necklace and earrings
and WAAAAA-LAAAAA
it's a dress!

She wasn't too sure, but she didn't have time to think as I shoved her fat little feet into her peacock print shoes that she loves.

That distracted her enough to forget she was wearing a beach cover-up as a dress because it was the only thing clean that actually fit her.

Finally dressed ...  I used a giant-barreled curling iron to add some OOOMPH to her hair.
Just a few well placed curls because at this point I'm lucky she even has any patience left at all.

One very important last step- the root spray.  I shook that can up and sprayed that dark brown paint over as much of her gray hairs as I could.  Took practically the whole can but I covered most of it!


And then...she looks in the mirror and seems to approve. Or at least not head back to the couch.

So she goes to the bar and meets up with her friends and they talk and laugh and she is awake and happy and then the band plays and she loves every song and can't sit in her seat because she needs to stand up and dance!

And she knows every word to Jesse's Girl and Livin' on A Prayer so she sings it with her friends and laughs and laughs.

And I know she will be ok...because I built her myself.

Relationships: The Dead Cow Analogy

I was mortified when my children lectured me about relationship choices and it basically turned into an intervention. The evening had started off normally enough, watching some tv shows together.  We were watching Full House and it was the episode where the father goes on a date. During the commercial break, The Goofballs added their own commentary and related the episode to my life.

Goofball #1 began the lecture....so Mom, we noticed The Wild One has been around again.

I had been mindlessly zoning out, so I snapped to attention and was like "Huh?"

He continued...
So you said you were done and you were moving on.  But, now he's around again.
It reminds me of a cow standing in a field. You promise us you won't shoot the cow, then a month later we go back and the cow is dead.

Wait, what? Am I the cow??

The he said, Well, if that happened we would feel sad for the cow.  And I feel sad for you. Because we know how it ends when he is around.  It's like when we watch the same Full House episodes over and over even though we have seen it. We just can't help it. And you can't help it, even though you know what happens. 

Goofball #2 pipes in at this point...Yea we know how this ends. Breaking up again. Every time.  So don't go back to being around him, then you won't have to break it off again. 

This lecture was starting to sound a lot like the Dua Lipa song, New Rules 
"don't let him in
You'll have to kick him out again, 

 don't be his friend
 ...if you're under him
You ain't getting over him"

I was REALLY hoping we were not going THERE. 

Oh but we were...

Goofball #2 says
It's ok if you want to be friends with him.  Just don't be "FRIEND Friends."  Don't be "Kissing Friends."

Omg, did my Little Bear just say Kissing Friends??

And my Baby Doll had the last word...
Don't be friends.  Be DONE.

Thankfully at that point the commercial break ended and Full House returned. 

I was speechless through most of the conversation, but I recovered enough to thank them all for their honesty and valuable opinions. 

 I also let them know we are no longer using Hulu. We are going back to Netflix because there are no commercial breaks. 

Meeting My Match

When my dating profile needed a makeover, who did I ask for help? Ummm...My Exes and their girlfriends.  2017 was a Year of Lessons for me. And one thing I learned is that if I want to meet a King, I can't keep playing with the Jesters.  So if I am going to get serious about meeting Mr. Right I need some reinforcements.

I'm not a major fan of online dating, but it seems a
likely way to meet potential Mr. Right(s), so I have dabbled with it over the past few years.  I have met some doozies. One guy wore shoes that looked like gloves, but for your feet. Another had a sketchy Italian accent that came and went depending on his mood.

One guy was HOT, like super duper H.O.T.  He smelled so good. Like if Heaven smelled Sexy and you could bottle it, that would be his scent.  He had a French accent and was tall.
He said all the right things.  Too right.  I was skeptical.  He was too well dressed and too damn sexy. He had to be up to something.  The more I got to know him, I started to notice his smooth talk included some red flags.  He started to use the language of one of my infamous Exes. He said he had "side jobs" that kept him busy.  Hmmm...I knew from past experiences that "side job" is double talk for "side bitch."  And then there was the excuse of "my phone broke."
Classic Fuckboy line.  So I stopped responding to texts and then his true colors flared.
First, he was persistent, then angry, then insulting.
Then he contacted me from one of his THREE other profiles!!! So Charlie, Pierre and Mr. Sincere
were blocked.

But, online dating isn't all things made of nightmares.  A few years ago, when I had first tried online dating, I did meet one nice guy, R.  We dated for while and he was awesome! The relationship didn't last, but our friendship has.  He is someone that I trust with the most important people in my life - my children.  Thankfully, he has become part of our village and often babysits for my Goofballs.  They have come to really care about and respect him.  We all value his opinion, which is always dead honest - even if you don't like it!  So of course, when I was thinking of revamping my dating profile I asked for his advice.  His girlfriend is a good friend of mine and I introduced them! Turns out I am an amazing matchmaker!! They're a great couple!  Now I just need to show good judgment in finding my own match.

As expected, R. was honest and said the picture I chose for my profile wasn't flattering, He said it didn't look like my face somehow.

A professional Dating Advice Giver/Matchmaker had said the same thing. She has said it needed to appeal more to men.  R. agreed.

So, it seemed I maybe needed to show more cleavage.  And somehow fix my face to look like my face.

Basically,  I needed a new photo.

So...I spoke with an expert. My Ex-Husband, Oz. He's an Artist and a Photographer.  Turns out, he and his Fiance had some time to spare and they helped me with a photo session.

Nope...nothin' weird about that.

Anyhoo - I figured over the past 15 years Oz has captured me at my Best and Worst. He's documented my happiest of times like my Wedding Day, me seeing my babies faces for the first time, me celebrating a decade of holidays.  He's captured my saddest days of miscarriages and losing my father. He has caught the candid, off-guard moments that are truly me in my every day life.  And he has been witness to my ugliest moments that I try to never let the world see and has thankfully not photographed them.

So who better to try to help me get my face to look like my face?

But, in the end it was actually Oz's fiancé Dorothy that took the picture that felt most like the Me that I see.

She was gracious enough to help Oz with the photo shoot.  And she helped with artistic suggestions like lighting, poses etc.

We tried shots of me sitting, standing, smiling, not smiling.  Far away, close up. It was quite the process.  Nothing felt right.

We even staged of few of me trying to make reading somehow look sexy since it's one of my only hobbies!!

When the kids needed tending too, Oz went to help.  Dorothy shot a few pictures that ended up being the best of the bunch. They had an angle that showed me looking my best.

Oz captured a few great ones too, like me laughing! I don't know how many dates it would get me, but he voted for the laughing shot as my main profile picture.  Not sure if the King that I plan to meet would click on that though! SO I had to overrule him.

As we start 2018, I am reflecting on how very important my family is. And how friends have become family to me.  Anyone that is truly the right Match for me will need to know and care about these people that have become my village. Might as well let them all help me find him!

The Art of Wooing

Wooing.  Everyone has a different definition of what counts as romance.  So Wooing is not a "one type fits all" kind of thing. Over the years I have learned that romance is as unique as each person. It is often a reflection of personality and symbolic of the relationship itself.

My first example of Wooing was from my parents.  My Dad loved to surprise my mom with flowers, jewelry etc.  He was a bit over the top to say the least! He never bought just one dozen of roses - nope, he would buy 4! Once, he arrived home with an entire pick up truck filled with mums! It was hilarious and crazy and SO him!! My mom however likes simple and would have been happy with a single hand-picked rose, so it it made it even funnier to see how their extremely opposite personalities interacted. It worked for them! During the 40 years of their marriage, he continued to Woo her!

One boyfriend from my teen years was a Woo-er.  His Wooing strategies ranged from showing off his BMX bike tricks to filling my room with roses and balloons to surprise me on my birthday.  He wrote me cards and gave me his class ring (which he got in trouble for from his mom and she came to my house and took it back!)  But, I was young. Though I liked the Wooing, he wasn't The One.   Years later we reconnected and he still had his Wooing down to a science with flowers and cards and candy and stuffed animals to brighten my day and he loved to cook me meals and show off his culinary skills.   It was fun! But, he was STILL not The One. So I moved on.  Even more years later, after I was married and had children, he tried to reconnect with me and sent poems... from prison. Still wasn't The One.

I've always loved Grand Gestures. Probably because I grew up watching General Hospital and too many 80s Rom-Coms.  But, the Grand Gestures make the romance feel alive for me!  I like the Wooing.

My ex-husband was a Master of Grand Gestures and Wooing.  When we were dating he brought flowers, painted pictures for me, wrote me a song, brought me to see the Lion King with front row seats and took me on an impromptu Road Trip to Disney.  Romance was alive and fun! Even through almost a decade of marriage he marked every anniversary with flowers and jewelry or other fun and thoughtful surprises.  The letters and cards were always my favorite. They meant the most in the end.  Words of love.

Dating since Divorce has been a whole new adventure in Wooing.

I am not sure if it is because it is different decade now, or because I am older, or if it is that I am meeting people that are not my "typical type," but how I perceive romance has changed.

At first, when I began dating again, I gravitated towards more of the same- traditional yet artsy men. Woo-ers.  One taught my class a song and serenaded me. Swoon!!!
Another one spent time getting to know my BFFs - the way to my heart!
One showed up with Orchids and planned fun dates because he liked my energy!

Then there were the Non-Traditional Woo-ers I've met along the way.  That's when my idea of romance evolved.  I used to think romance had to do only with pretty things like flowers, perfume, candles or teddy bears.

But, I started to see that men Woo in all different ways.  Some might build a shelf for my classroom, clean out my garage, put new brakes on my car, plunge a clogged toilet or sit in a hospital bed holding me for days.

Others might make really great egg sandwiches.

Then there are ones that try to Woo in a more... hands on way.  One person I briefly dated offered to lick parts that never occurred to me might be lickable.  I politely declined the offer, but kudos for going all in for the Wooing!

One gave me a gift that was so ridiculous it made me realize how ridiculous our whole relationship had gotten.

Wooing can really be symbolic of the type of relationship two people are developing.  Maybe it's Traditional with dinners, flowers, candlelight.  Maybe it's Extreme with bungee jumping and home makeover projects. Maybe it's Adventurous with Road Trips and exploring everything in all kinds of ways. Or maybe it is just fun and ridiculous and a distraction that you eventually outgrow.  Or maybe it is a mix of it all and you grow old together enjoying life.

"In the end, the love you take ~ is equal to the love you make."