Tag Archives: love

The Regular Girl

  This month I found myself reluctant to explore the archetype of The RegularGirl.  After some time I was finally able to talk myself around to why this seemed like an uncomfortable idea–nobody wants to be “average” or “normal!”

Initially perplexed by the idea of relating to “normal” I wrestled with the desire of wanting to understand myself and connect to other people.  Do other people identify as normal?  I never had.  I’ve been told my whole life that I am anything but and additionally, I don’t feel normal.  As I searched for the answer to my conundrum I was reminded again of the brilliant Albert Einstein.

The same way I get to choose daily whether to view life as ordinary or extraordinary, I get to choose how I view myself and others.  Perspective is a funny thing, to some people a song is just something in the backdrop, to others it’s notes and half steps and timing and sweat and tears and beauty.  To some people we are just lumps of skin waiting to die, but I prefer this perspective.

“Normal” is really quite extraordinary.  The way we have the ability to love and connect with each other and the way we interact with the world creates the tenor and flavor of not just our experience, but that of others.  Throughout the first few days I’ve spent here in Santa Barbara I’ve felt the gentle cradle of the universe channelled through the individuals all around.  From the people who gave me directions when I was wandering, to the associate that gave me a beautiful car for the price of a lemon, I’ve felt so at home in a different corner of the world because it’s all connected and so are we.  I am reminded yet again;

I am anything but normal.

1, 2, 3…Tinder! or Mama Takes New Jersey

Despite her gorgeous hourglass figure, youthfulness and spritely face, my mother turned 60 this year.  After her divorce 2 years ago–which was actually a really great thing for everyone involved–she had settled into her own condo, a job and had transitioned from 30 some years of wife and mother to full blown independent woman.  Hooked on personal development podcasts and optimism, she had let herself be talked into joining Tinder by my sister and I.  “It’s like shopping,” I told her comparing it to her favorite pastime to ease the apprehension of online dating.  “You can just window shop and then if you like someone, you decide if you want to talk to them.”  After a few days of dramatization over every swipe and message,

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she was chatting with several men and back in the game!

At my consistent urging that she “be a hussy” (which for someone who had only slept with one man ever might involve one french kiss by the end of the year) she extended the age range of prospects to include 40-somethings.

Hussy

One afternoon I get a call from her that a man–let’s call him Maurice–who she had been talking with regularly on the phone, wants her drive to the Jersey Shore and spend the weekend with him at the beach for their very first rendezvous.  “I mean it’s 3 hours away and I’m tired.”  Her voice held an excitement I hadn’t heard in a long time as she waited for the verbal thumbs up I knew she had called me for.  While personally I probably wouldn’t have driven 3 hours without meeting someone first, I couldn’t deflate the hope that was alive in her once again.  With one word of affirmation from my lips she all but hung up on me “ok well I have to go pack and get on the road!”

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I stood looking around the room for a moment and then dialed my sister.  “Um, I just told mom to drive 3 hours to stay with a guy she’s never met from Tinder…that’s ok right?  Like, she’ll be fine and everything?”  We both uneasily made our way toward feeling good about it and covered all the necessary precautions including a parental like call to speak with this Mandingo Maurice where he assured me she had her own room and was to be worshipped like royalty.

Degrees Of Royalty - Elly Carthy

A text from Mama came through, “he has the cutest accent and says ‘chow’ instead of goodbye!”  I laughed out loud in my apartment as I explained to her that ‘chow’ is the first word of an Asian dish 

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and if she said it back to consider spelling it ‘Ciao.’

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Well as it turned out the chemistry in person was not as sizzling as it was when being bounced off of multiple cell phone towers.  The second day she told him that the sparks weren’t there for her and a very disappointed Frenchmen was reluctantly friend-zoned.  She left early and got back in time to spend an evening happily alone in her condo.  As she filled me in on the details of how he tried to run her to death on the beach with no hydration, I laughed and filled with admiration for this courageous woman said “well, you can’t expect a home run on your first swing.”

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