I've been widowed for almost 15 months now, and just recently stopped wearing my wedding rings in an effort to move on with my life. I still feel married in many ways, and I never want to dishonor my late husband's memory, but I have to admit I don't want to be alone forever. Perhaps recent events and a discussion with a very dear friend helped me view the idea of dating again in a more postive light, although I tend to equate my re-entering the singles scene to a horrible train wreck. You really don't want to look but you can't help but take a peek and hate yourself for it, knowing you will probably be scarred by the mental images for life.
I recently tested the waters by taking a mini-vacation all by myself. I despise the idea that single women need someone to accompany them when venturing beyond their daily boundaries, whether it's another female, or the man in her life. If I want to go, and have the funds, fuel, and freedom, why the hell not! Sure, there are all kinds of crazy people out there waiting to slit my throat and dump me in a ditch, but I got enough street smarts to know how to avoid offering the psychos opportunities to make me the next headline for Nancy Grace. Anyway, I had free rooms at the Imperial Palace Casino in Biloxi, MS. which was one of my husband's favorite getaways for us. So, what was supposed to be a girlfriend getaway, turned into me going by my damn self, and I upgraded to a King jacuzzi suite and treated myself to a little luxury. For $20 a night, hell that's better than sex... better than fantasy sex!!
Well, I arrived on the Mississippi Gulf Coast about mid-afternoon, and began my ritual of using up my allotted free play starting at the Island View in Gulfport, then popped into Treasure Bay to burn up that $10, and finally I checked into my room at the IP shortly before 5PM. Checking in, unloading my bags, and checking out my awesome room, wasn't the tough part of being alone. Thinking about Moe, and how romantic he would have made such a trip brought back some truly sweet memories, and as luck would have it, thanks to being by myself, I indulged in a weeping spell that was well over due. Once I regained composure and made myself presentable enough to appear in public, I made a beeline for Moe's favorite slot machines. You never know, Lady Luck might have a soft spot for poor old widow women. Being alone roaming the casino floor, or taking a seat for a drink at the bar doesn't faze me in the least. Eating alone in the buffet or restaurants is an entirely different deal, but when a meal is free, a little trepidation is easily overcome.
In retrospect, maybe being so happily married to a musician for five years, helped prepare me for stepping back into the world of dating, Sitting in bars while my spouse was on stage provided hours of people watching experience, and I learned how to read the subtle nuances, body language, and silent means of communication, between members of the opposite sex, and even some between those of the same gender. Those observations mixed with my own personal experiences from years of single partying, really came in handy on my little adventure on the coast. Once again, as luck would have it, my dear pal was playing in the band booked in the casino lounge my last night there, and he introduced me to the bass players fiance, who I immediately clicked with, and as ladies night ensued, and the free drinks flowed, I began to realize I needed to loosen up. I had been needing it for a very long time.
Since Moe died, fun has been a rare and often unwanted commodity, and up until that point, I had been to careful to maintain a particular image out of respect for Moe's memory. Well, no matter how much you loved, and always will love your lost beloved, a dead husband can't compete with a big honking set of 42D's in a low cut top, and a good rum & diet coke buzz. I had a frigging BLAST! I shook my big ass like a poloroid picture, got hit on by a cute little Georgia boy who had no clue until I told him I was old enough to be his mother, and after it was all said and done, I crawled into bed feeling younger and more alive than I had in quite some time.
So now I know I'm not totally washed up by any means, and with my new low carb lifestyle, and exercise goals, maybe dating after death isn't the nightmare I envisioned. Oh, and cute little Georgia guy, you told me your age, but I never told mine , so I'm only ten years older than you, and even though I'm old enough to be your lover NOT your mother, I prefer older men.... so Mr. Georgia what's your grandfather like, and how's his life insurance policy?
you go, girl!
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