The Limits of Love

I've been thinking a lot about love.  As I reflected a past post, we have been given a working definition of what love should be.  However, the more I think about it, the more I realize that vision of love is the ideal.  It would be really great if we could all love each other with the selflessness and purity that the Apostle Paul lays out, but that is an exceedingly rare thing.  Does that mean, then, that if we cannot achieve this ideal, that we do not love?

Absolutely not!

As I look at how I've grown over the course of this project, I can see changes in myself.  I'm more comfortable in my own skin and more forgiving of my mistakes and shortcomings.  I'm kinder to myself, less critical. more accepting.  And as this kindness has grown, I find it much easier to extend it to the people in my life.  It's easier to be around the people in my life - especially my children.  My relationships are more relaxed, less forced, and more comfortable.  It seems that as my self-love grows, so too does my ability to love others grow.

It seems that we love others the way we love ourselves.  If we love ourselves with contingencies, qualifications and strings, then that is the way we will love others.  If we love ourselves wholly, then we can love others wholly.  Our self love sets the parameters for the love we can give others.  Those are the limits of love.

Suddenly, it makes sense to me!  Rumi writes, "Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it."  Our self loathing, harsh judgement and fears are the barriers.  They are the things that keep us from truly being able to love.    If we do not feel ourselves deserving of a whole, complete, and unconditional love, then we simply cannot accept it.  Loving yourself - for the messed up, flawed, awkward, selfish, petty person you are is the key to everything. 

I consider this truth, and realize that I was mistaken about those past relationships that I had determined to not be love.  Just because we didn't live up to the ideal doesn't mean it wasn't love.  We did the best we could at the time.  (We ALL do the best we can with what we have available at the time.)  The love I was able to receive was limited by my self love, just as the love my partners could accept from me was limited by theirs.  It wasn't premeditated or intentional; we just ran up against the barriers we had within ourselves.  This realization helps the lingering hurt and bitterness to just dissipate, and brings me so much peace. I don't have to be angry because someone didn't love me the way I needed to be loved.  And I don't have to punish myself for not being able to do the same.  I can acknowledge the experience, learn from it, and add it to the wisdom that I am collecting with age.  I can accept it for what it was, be grateful for the opportunity, and use that to open my heart just a little bit more.

And that's one more barrier removed.

Act 35: Cook Dinner for Families at the Ronald McDonald House

I added this act to my list because I wanted a balance.  I had a bunch of frivolous and self-indulgent acts, but I wanted to do something that would be of service to others as well.  Turns out, if you are so inclined, there are many, many opportunities in the Triangle area to pitch in and volunteer.  In fact, there is an entire meetup group - Triangle Do-Gooders - devoted to just that.

I chose the Ronald McDonald house because it was close by, and I chose to cook dinner because that's something I know how to do.  I kind of thought this would be an easy item to check off the list, and one that I could pat myself on the back for being a good and helpful citizen.  I didn't expect it to take 4 months for me to be able to write about it.

First of all, the process for signing up for dinner was pretty painless.  I RSVPed for an event as soon as it was listed.  These things fill up quickly!   There is a group coordinator, Nancy, who does all the menu planning and shopping.  On this particular night, we were serving baked chicken, mashed potatoes, roasted carrots and apples, and salad.  Before we met in the kitchen at the RMH, Nancy had

already deboned about 18 pounds of chicken.  We had 10 pounds of potatoes, 6 pounds of carrots, and 4 bags of apples that needed to be peeled, prepped, and cooked.  The crew for dinner that night was 8 people, plus Nancy.  We all set about industriously peeling.

Every time one of us would finish a task, we'd go to Nancy.  "Now what can I do?"  She must have answered that question 59 times, but each time, she pleasantly assigned the next task and went right back to what she was doing.  Her strategy would rival an army general in its precision and efficiency.  Slice these lemons.  Prep that salad.  Melt the butter for this.  Whip up those potatoes.  It seemed like no time at all before we were putting out platters of food for the families.  Before they went on the buffet, Nancy gave them a final check - to make sure they were garnished and beautiful.

I thought my work was done, but then the families started to trickle down to the kitchen.  I don't know what I was expecting, but I was surprised to see their diversity.  It occurred to me that illness doesn't discriminate between rich and poor, brown or pale.  All the families I saw were in crisis.  And they each seemed so insular in their pain.

It was hard for me to consider, because I kept thinking about The Boy and The Girl.  I have two healthy and wonderful children. They've never had to fight for their lives.  I felt guilty for my good fortune and afraid to get too close - as if by doing so would cause something to rub off on us.  I know that's silly, and I know that's small, but that's what it was.

We were cleaning up when a woman in her early 40s came charging into the kitchen with her husband and two small girls in tow.  Nancy welcomed the family and directed them to the dinner that had been prepared, but this mom was on a mission.  She opened the grocery store bag she was carrying and pulled out a package.  While the girls and her husband stood back slightly, she searched until she found a pan and began to heat it on the stove.

"Are you sure you don't want some dinner?" Nancy inquired.

The mom looked at her, wild eyed and determined and replied, "No.  My son has not been able to eat for weeks.  Today he asked for a steak."  She jabbed toward the steak in the package on the counter.  "I haven't been able to do anything for him for weeks, but I. Am. Going. To. Make. Him. This. Steak."   She turned back to the stove.

I understood where that mother was coming from, though I could not comprehend the depths of her experience.  I could feel her despair and her ferocity.  Finally she had a task.  Something she could DO to help her child, and she was no about to let anything get between her and that task.   I also understood that if I didn't get out of there right then, I was going to embarrass myself in front of a bunch of people I didn't know.

I made it to the car before the tears started.

As I drove away, I thought about how smug I had been going into the experience - how I practically expected someone to congratulate me for being such a kind and selfless person.  I thought about how while we were preparing the meal, I was mentally cataloging the details that I would include when I wrote about my act of courage.  We prepared a beautiful meal for the families, and yes, it was done with some love.  But I really had no inkling.  Not a single clue.

All the way home, I thought about how blessed I am.  How charmed my life has been.  How charmed my life has been.  How lucky my children and I were.  I said a prayer for that mom, her son, her husband, and those two little girls.  I asked God's blessing on that meal she was preparing.  I am willing to bet that that steak was the best steak ever made.  It certainly was prepared with love.

The Corinthian Love Test

I've been doing a lot of thinking about love lately.  Seems like every artist or musician who ever put pen to paper has an opinion about its nature and meaning.

So what is love then? Is it dictated or chosen?

Does it sing like the hymns of a thousand years

Or is it just pop emotion?

And if it ever was there and it left

Does it mean it was never true?

-Indigo Girls, "Mystery"

And how is it possible that a fully grown mother of two doesn't have firm grasp on the concept?  I think my definition of love is evolving as I grow and change.  As I discover a deeper love for myself, I begin to see the deeper possibilities of loving someone else.

Regardless, I've struggled to come up with a definition and a way to reconcile some of the conflicting notions I've had lately about love.  And then I stumbled upon a sweet little blog post about tween crushes.  The author of the post tells how she suggested that her daughter evaluate the object of her crush by placing his name into the text of 1 Corinthians 13:4-7.

____ is patient, 

____ is kind. 

He does not envy, 

He does not boast, 

He is not proud. 

He does not dishonor others, 

He is not self-seeking, 

He is not easily angered, 

He keeps no record of wrongs. 

_______ does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 

He always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

Now, before you go getting all excited, I have to put in a disclaimer.  I'm no fan of the Apostle Paul.  In fact, I find most of his writings to be misogynistic and narrow.  However, in this letter to the church in Corinth, I think he hit on something very simple and very pure.  The nature of love is not the intensity of the feelings it inspires.  It's about acceptance and compassion, vulnerability and trust. So when I use Paul's text as a rubric to evaluate the loves of my life, suddenly there is no question as to what was love, and what was not - at least according to this definition.

Now comes the hard part.  I put my own name in passage.  Is Rhonda patient?  Is she kind?  Is she not easily angered?

(ANSWER KEY: Not nearly enough, when it's convenient, and no comment.)


The bottom line is that I love to the best of my ability; that's what we all do.  And just because we fall short of this ideal doesn't mean that we don't love.  Or does it?  These are the questions I now consider as I decide what my next steps are going to be.  Rather than seek out another to love, it is better to prepare myself to love to the very best of my ability.  Certainly in my case, that involves learning to love and accept my feelings, my past and present actions, and my whole self.  So rather than concentrate of seeking love, I will instead focus on knocking down the barriers that block it.

Maybe then, I can pass the Corinthian Love Test.

Act 22: Wear a Bikini To the Beach

I had to do some rigorous preparation to complete this Act.  I spent weeks and months preparing.  

Rhonda's Bikini Body Readiness Plan

1. Decide to wear a bikini.
2. Order bikini.
3. Google "bikini workout plan."  Leave browser window open for 3 days.  Do none of the exercises.
4. Drive to the beach.
5. Put on bikini.
6. Go out into daylight.

When I made up my mind to do this, I decided I was going to do just that.  I didn't obsess over it, didn't fuss or do any kind of intense preparation.  I just... did it.

Here's the proof:

I had to put on extra sunscreen, because that
midriff real estate hasn't seen the light of day
since 1978.

I will be honest, I was a little unsure about this.  No one pointed or stared.  No one suffered any injuries.  I was surprised how quickly I forgot what I was wearing and focused on having a great time at the beach with my sister-friends and my babies.

I'm not flawless, but I have to say, I think I looked damned good, and I felt amazing.  

I had no idea that I had a bikini body all along.  Maybe you do too!

Act 30: Eat Clean for a Week

This challenge has evolved since the inception of this list. Originally, I had said I would try eating Vegan for a week. I had a separate Act that said I wanted to try a "cleanse" or a fast. So when I started researching, I stumbled across this two-week Clean Eating Detox challenge, I was excited! Two birds, one stone. There were a bunch of other things I wanted to try, so voila! According the the websites, the plan is low-carb and gluten-free with an emphasis on lean protein (no red meat) and fresh produce. There’s no processed food, and every meal is homemade. The challenge website broke everything down: shopping lists, recipes, even a system for accounting for leftovers. It felt practically idiot-proof!

I was seduced by the menu.  All those delicious sounding vegetable-laden dishes.... and the photos.  My God!  The photos!  Everything looked so delicious and healthy and attractive.  How could I resist?

I should have known this challenge was cursed when I went out to get the supplies and a guy backed into me in the Trader Joe's parking lot.

But, I'm nothing if not determined, so I pressed on.

First to tackle the mammoth shopping list.  As noted above, everything is homemade, which means lots of ingredients.  I needed things like chia seeds and raw almond butter.  Turns out, they don't carry that at my Kroger.  :-(  And since I detest Whole Foods with a fiery passion, that meant a trip out to Cary to Trader Joe's.  I made my way to the checkout with my 9 items, and almost fell out when the total came to $42.  YIKES!

Turns out, Clean Eating isn't cheap.  I learned in Act 38 about the economics of healthy eating, so it wasn't a huge shock.  But I don't think I was quite ready for the price tag.  I was going to have to shop a little smarter - which mean SALES.  Many of the veggies on my list were a bit exotic, so I made Harris Teeter, my second stop.  At the checkout, I again almost fell out.  My 16 items came to $34.  (Fennel is expensive, y'all, even when it's on sale.)   I stopped by the Durham Farmer's market to get some fresh local kale ($3 per bunch) and a well-earned chocolate chip scone.  (If I'm going gluten free, I needed time to say goodbye.)  Finally, I hit up Kroger where I finished out my list.  34 items for $74.

This is what $156 will buy you.

If you're keeping track, that's $156.  For one person.  For one week.  (!!!!!!)

I calmed myself by remembering that this was every meal - including lunches.  One lunch can cost around $10.  So...  Yeah.  That didn't work very well.

I spent the evening prepping smoothie bags for the week, steaming some kale, cooking up a batch of quinoa, and roasting some chicken breasts for the coming week.

I went to bed ready to tackle the challenge.

Day 1:

Kale and Banana Smoothie
Asparagus and Arugula Salad
Carrots and hummus
Kale, Quinoa and Chicken Toss
Sliced Pear with Almond Butter

I barely choked down the smoothie.  It was chunky.  Was it supposed to be chunky?!  Thank goodness for the straw I was using to drink it.  It allowed me to bypass my taste buds altogether, and just swallow it.  It's healthy.  I will develop a taste for it.  Give it a chance.

The asparagus and arugula salad was better.  I made an orange vinaigrette to go on it,  I usually love eggs, but I couldn't bring myself to eat the one on this salad.

Turns out, Clean Eating leaves my kitchen not-very-clean.

That night for dinner, the chicken, kale and quinoa wasn't bad either - except I over-salted the kale.  And the quinoa was mushy.  But the chicken turned out ok.

Day 2:

On today's menu:
Overnight Oats with Blueberries and Chia Seeds
Kale, Chickpea and Fennel Salad with Orange Vinaigrette
Sliced Tomato with Feta, Basil and Balsamic
Napa Cabbage Wraps

I was pretty excited as I prepped the overnight oats on Day 1.  I had heard good things about that dish and just knew I had found the solution  to  my "how to eat a quick healthy breakfast" problem.  The next morning was so hectic though, I had to bring it in my lunch box.

I set about packing my lunch for the day.  The problem started when it came time to shave the fennel.  I made the first cut into the bulb of fennel, which has wispy fronds like dill weed, and grows a crunchy bulb which is like a cross between celery and a water chestnut, and got an overwhelming whiff of... licorice.  The smell made me want to retch.  But I kept shaving that fennel.  I kept telling myself It's clean.  It's healthy.  I paid an arm and a leg for this.  I was going to eat that damned fennel.  I assembled the lunch and all it's accouterments and set off for work.

I started to get hungry at about 8:30, so I opened up my overnight oats.  The consistency made me want to cry.  It was mushy and tasted a little bit like the paste we used to use in second grade.  I was so hungry though, and so I soldiered on.  Every now and then, I would find a blueberry and that made me keep going, but I decided then and there: overnight oats was NEVER going to be my go-to breakfast.   I  couldn't make myself finish it.

As lunch time rolled around, I felt a growing sense of dread.  The fennel salad was waiting for me.  Every time I thought about taking a lunch break, I could hear the theme from Jaws playing in my head.  I didn't want to eat it!  I couldn't make myself - especially after that disastrous breakfast.  I cast about my office for an alternative, but decided against making a lunch from M&Ms and wasabi almonds.  Luckily, my friend Meldy came to my rescue.  She invited me to join her for a grilled chicken salad and some lunchtime conversation.  I was SAVED!

By the time I  got home that night, I was so hungry it was not even funny.  I scoured my refrigerator.  It was overflowing with fresh fruits and vegetables.  I dug around until I found the spaghetti left over from my kids' dinner the night before.  I dove into that spaghetti like I had never eaten before in my life.  It was so good, I thought I would cry.

For the record, I made it 1 1/2 days eating clean.

At that point, I decided three things.
1. I was too old to be following anything recommended by BuzzFeed.  
2. I was going to eat whatever I wanted.
3.  Eating clean doesn't have to be complicated.

The rest of the week, I set about making better choices.   I successfully avoided drinks other than water.  (I didn't count the one cup of coffee with half and half that I drink every day.  That's more medicinal than anything else.)  I did eat fruits and vegetables with every meal, and those that I chose were as close to whole and unprocessed I could get.  I chose whole grains when I could, but didn't obsess when I couldn't.  I tried some new things.  The refrigerator full of fruits and vegetables did get used - just not in  the recipes recommended.  Nothing went to waste.  Except the fennel.

And eventually I did face that fennel.  It was like eating a bowl of licorice whips with garlicky vinaigrette.  Never again.

Act 31: Get a Mammogram

**Warning:  This entry talks about boobies.  If you are easily embarrassed by such things, turn back now!!!  **

This Act made the list because it's what you do when you turn 40.  Adding it was kind of a perfunctory no-brainer.  So when I went for my annual physical in late April, my doctor approved, saying, "That's very good.  Call this number and schedule your scan for July or August - after your birthday."

That was before my exam.

As I lay on the table, thinking Wow, this is the most action the girls have gotten in months, my doctor paused.  She repeated the palpitation of the last place she checked.  She made a slight Hmmm noise.  She checked again.  

"I would like to you to call that number and get in as soon as possible.  If you have any trouble setting an appointment, call me.  I will set it up for you."  

What happened to July or August?  

I sat up.  "Is something wrong?"

"You have a small mass on the left side.  It concerns me.  No need to panic right now, but if you have any trouble scheduling an appointment, call me.  I will set it up for you. Do you want me to make the appointment right now?  I can."

I assured her that I would set an appointment THAT DAY, then tried not to FREAK THE EFF OUT as I got dressed.

As I went to the lab for the last of the tests, I tried to quiet my mind.  There's no need to panic until there is something to panic about, I told myself over and over again.  I made it back to the car and called to set up the appointment for a Mammogram.

The woman who handled the appointment was a little grumbly.  "You need to schedule as soon as possible?  Is that what she told you?  Here?  At Duke?"  Apparently, my doctor checked the wrong box on the orders, but she eventually was able to pull up my chart.  Her tone immediately changed.

"How about Tuesday?  Can you do Tuesday?"

"Yes, ma'am.  Can I do it at the Southpoint location?  It's close to my house."

"No, ma'am," she said, firmly.  "I'm going to need you to come to the Cancer Center.  Just in case."

Wait.  What?

I did my best to put all that out of my mind.  After all, I have been pretty religious about doing my self exams and getting a yearly physical.  And my doctor does tend to be a bit conservative when it comes to getting "things checked out."  Nope.  No need to panic.

Act 29: Try Speed Dating

Speed dating is an idea that sounds really good in theory.  Get dressed up once, go to a single location, spend 5 minutes per person, and, armed with a list of suggested questions, you meet 12-15 people in one night.  Efficient, structured, and low risk.  Right up my alley.

Or so I thought.

I signed up for a speed dating event in an attempt to force myself to get up and out.  I'd been moping about over my last romantic experience for almost 6 months now, and the thinking was that getting "out there" would be a good thing to do.  My practically-engaged friend, Julie, volunteered to go with me for moral support.  For those of you who are likely wondering: She did this with the full support of her love, who was not worried at all.  He wisely said, If she finds anyone she's interested in there, the we have no business thinking about getting married.  Another friend, Melissa, a brave speed dating veteran, signed up to go too.

 I thought by giving myself a couple months lead time, when the event came I would be raring to go.

Well, the night came, and I was less than excited.  Don't get me wrong.  It was fun to get all dressed up and go out with girlfriends.  I also had lots of fun doing the girly wardrobe consult with my sister friends.  However, from the moment I entered the venue, I had a feeling it would be a bust.

Basically, the front room of a local brewery-type restaurant was set up with 14 small tables.  Each table had a number and a female participant assigned to it.  (I was number 10.)  Once the event began, a male would sit down at the table.  The idea is that we would talk until a bell rang to signal the end of the "date."  These usually lasted about 5 minutes.  (Some felt muuuuuuuch longer, but more on that in a moment.)  After the date ended, you got a moment to make notes to yourself to help you remember the "date" before the next person sat down at your table.  At the end of the event, you indicate next to each man's name either "Yes, Let's Talk" or "No Thanks."  Easy enough.

I successfully avoided the mingling-at-the-bar phase at the beginning of the evening, opting instead to prep at my table. (This was one of many indications over the course of the night that I am, perhaps, NOT a "normal girl.")  My thinking was, if I wanted to meet people at a bar, I would hang out at a bar.  Small talk like that just stresses me out.  We had to wait until all the participants arrived.  I noted the guy who came in last.  That's strike one for you, buddy.  I value promptness.  (Again, another sign of "not normal.")  Finally, it was time to begin.  Almost.

First, the event host gave us what felt like a lengthy speech on "how to date" - including such gems as:

1. Strike while the iron is hot: Follow up on your match results right away by contacting your matches.
2. Use polite email etiquette: Respond to everyone’s emails in a prompt and courteous manner.
3. Dating is a numbers game: Get yourself out there and meet as many singles as you can.  
4. Do your best to live by the Golden Rule: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.  Treat others with respect.

I had to turn down my snark factor, because I was on my best behavior.  Still.  I'm only human, and it was a really long speech.  While he was going on, I looked around the room to check out the other participants.  The women here were impressive: beautiful, well-dressed, and bright eyed.  The men were... male.  Uh oh.

The speech finally ended, and NOW it was time to begin.

Bachelor #1:  Sweet little accountant.  And I mean literally little.  He was about 5'6".   Still, I was determined to put my best foot forward.  I did my best to be charming, but instead ended up yammering on about how I like the structure of this kind of event.  I think  I may have actually used the words control freak to describe myself.  I was being self deprecating, but I could see the fear in his eyes....  (Not "normal girl" moment #3).  Mercifully the bell rang and the next person came to sit down.

Bachelor #2:  IT guy from southern India.  We got off on the wrong foot because I asked the first question.  (Not "normal girl" moment #4)  I'm naturally chatty, and it just seemed like the thing to do.  Apparently, for this fellow, that was taboo.  He did ask a good question:  What 3 words would your friends use to describe you?  (For the record, I said irreverent, caring, and responsible.) He spent the rest of the 5 minutes telling me how he his friends would describe him as upright, outspoken, and strong.  It came across as scary, and when the bell rang, I was relieved.

Bachelor #3:  Very nice software engineer from Burma.  I spent the entire 5 minutes asking him to repeat himself.  Or trying to make jokes that got lost in translation.  This Word Girl can't be fussing with the language gap.  It took a verrrrrry long time for that bell to ring.

Bachelor #4:  Contractor from Mexico by way of California.  We had a nice chat about drywall and the ridiculousness of the McMansion.  Conversation ended when he was unable to tell me what grades his two children were in.  Deadbeat dads are a firm deal breaker.  The bell couldn't come soon enough.

Bachelor #5:  This guy told me he was "in the entertainment industry."  When I asked for more detail, he revealed that he was the "supervisor of an entertainment complex" in Wake County.  I was intrigued.  Walnut Creek?  No.  Koka Booth?  Nope.  He runs the go-karts at a fun park.  Turns out, go-karts are a great way to build a corporate team.  And they go really, really fast.  Unlike that 5 minutes.  I think aged 10 years before that bell rang.

I was starting to get a wee bit exasperated at this point.

Bachelor #6:  When Bachelor #6 sat down, I let out a sigh.  "How's it been going for you?" I asked, trying to gauge if it was just me who was exasperated.  "We're not supposed to talk about other tables," he chided me.  I raised my eyebrows and let him launch into his speech.  This guy handles visas and immigration issues for a local IT corporation.  We bonded over the general public's ignorance over immigration issues. and the went on the complain about their ignorance over most other things too. Maybe it was the exasperation, but I did not hold back in my grousing.  Best behavior be damned!  He scored points for mentioning Jon Stewart's importance to the current political discourse, but when the bell rang, I was not sad to see him move on.

Bachelor #7:  This was the first guy who I actually found physically attractive all night.  Until he opened his mouth.  He was in commercial real estate.  He went to UNC.  He liked to talk.  Please ring, bell.  Please!  When it finally did, he muttered to himself, "There is never enough time..."  I beg to differ.

Bachelor #8:  By this point, I had completely given up on meeting anyone I would consider dating, and was now just trying to get through the conversations.  I have no idea what Bachelor # 8 does or where he is from.  He was short, but nice.  We talked about Star Wars and Doctor Who, and how cool my kids are.  (I know I'm biased, but I'm sorry, girl who asks for a Doctor Who party on her 6th birthday is COOL.)  So far, he was the least revolting guy since Bachelor #1.

When the bell rang, they called a 5 minute break.  I ran for the bathroom while Julie refreshed our drinks.  In the bathroom, the ladies were lamenting at the disparity in quality between the males and females at this event.  I couldn't argue, but mainly just felt bad for everyone involved.  Including me.  At least Julie got me a yummy cider beverage.  If nothing else, the drinks were good.  I again successfully avoided the "mingle at the bar" mess and headed back to my table.

Bachelor #9:  Young guy from Russia by way of Poland.  We talked about languages, and I told him about my abortive attempt to learn the Cyrillic alphabet when I was in college.  It was the first easy conversation  I had all night.  He was sweet and sharp, but so very, very young.

Bachelor #10: African American police officer from Raleigh.  He was kind, but VERY intense and very serious. I don't recall what we talked about beyond how people don't manage their kids.  I felt like I was in trouble the entire time.  At least he was taller than me.

Sorry Bachelor #11.  You can't
overcome this mental association.

Bachelor #11:  When this guy sat down across from me, all I could think of was Andrew from Buffy the Vampire Slayer.  I cannot recall a single thing about him beyond that.  :-(

Bachelor #12:  This was the guy who made us all wait for him.  And he was wearing all black.  And he was ridiculously full of himself. And he was shorter than me.  Next.

Bachelor #13:  This guy was pretty interesting.  He was a dentist in his home in Peru, but here works as a long-distance truck driver.  We talked about San Antonio, TX.  (That was his answer to What is your favorite place to drive?).  He likes to cook.  He passionately described a pasta dish that, honestly, was the most appealing idea I had encountered all night.  (See "not normal" above.)

Bachelor #14:  Mercifully, the last meeting had arrived.  Bachelor #14 was taller than me (only the 3rd one all night!), an academic, and well-read. He had also done several of these speed dating events and was very jaded.  He told a story of his path crossing the same girl at several different events and how she kept forgetting they had met.  I tried to put a positive spin on it, but at that point in the night, I was all tapped out.  It was until comparing notes later that I found out my friend Melissa had met and had dinner with him as a result of a past event.  She characterized it as, "The Worst Date of My Life."  With that recommendation, I had to pass.


Finally, the night came to a close.  We got to hear another speech - reiterating the "how to date" advice from the beginning and getting directions on what to expect in the next day or so.  I was to indicate the Bachelors I would be willing to hear from.  Then, the host would figure out mutual matches, and email the results.  I could also expect to get a list of people who indicated interest in me - whether I picked him or not.  I will be honest.  I had a very hard time saying "Let's Talk" to any of them.  After much deliberation, I ended up picking:

• Bachelor #1 - he benefited from being the first
• Bachelor #6 - because Jon Stewart!
• Bachelor #8 - non-revolting Star Wars guy

When I got my list the next morning, I had no mutual matches.  I was picked by Bachelor #9 (the sweet young Russian), 13 (the truck-driving cook), and 14 (the academic).  All perfectly nice guys, but just not for me.

Overall, I think the guys made out a LOT better than the girls at this particular event.  And speed dating doesn't really favor the picky.  At least when using an online dating site, I can filter for things like height (When you are an Amazon, these things matter!) and geographic location.  Still, I'm glad I went.  It was a fun night with the girls, and I have a story.  

Even better - hopefully I can get at least a few more months of wallowing in before anybody bothers me about dating again.