After last week’s blog about my first date since my husband died, women emailed me about their online dating experiences. One woman was waiting at the restaurant but instead of showing up, her date texted her a photo of his penis. Another guy needed to borrow money to pay off his soon-to-be ex-wife. Another loser tried to feel her up in the restaurant after they’d just met. It sounds as though a lot of men look at online dating like it’s an escort service.
Guys… Working little brains are great things, but may I suggest some of you buy a life-size sex doll and stay home?
The night before my first mastectomy I stood naked in front of my dressing room mirror, hoping to remember my breasts. They weren’t big, but they were well-shaped. I was slim and fit, the poster girl for exercise and eating right. Even so, it didn’t keep me from getting breast cancer. That night I wasn’t scared as much as I was anxious to have the cancer out of my body.
Even though my husband changed my bandages and cleared my drainage tubes, after my surgery, I was nervous the first time we had sex.
My friend and I when we were 23. I'd just won First Place at the Austin Spam-a-Rama with my "Spam Wellington & Madera Sauce," original recipe borrowed from Julia Child. I served it on a silver platter & was dressed in a short, French maid's outfit with black fishnets and high heels. We're eating Spamoni Ice Cream, which won Second Place. Photo by my first husband.
The other day I had lunch with a dear friend I’ve known since college. He and my first husband and I travelled together on some of our Indiana Jones expeditions, digging for minerals and Mayan artifacts. He also knew—and disapproved of the boyfriend from Hell—but loved and respected my second husband. When I told my friend this was the first time—since I was 18—I don’t have a man in my life, he was surprised.
I think what surprised him most was that I wasn’t looking.