Sunday, August 26, 2012

Quick to bail single dad

I blew it.

So the tall cute single dad totally beat me in our last game. I started another. And started another dialogue.

Ayelet: surprise -- you won the last game
TCSD: When can I get my foot massage ? lol
Double or nothing

What does that mean?

Ayelet: DONE
Except what exactly is double a foot massage? Two foot massages?

He didn't get it.

Ayelet: You said "double or nothing" -- how do you double a foot massage?
I'd like to clearly state the parameters before I enter into another binding agreement ;)

And... silence. More than 12 hours ago. He has continued playing but stopped chatting. I predict he won't start another game with me, and even if he does, he will never be anything but a WWF friend. That's what my gut is telling me.

I'm not entirely surprised. In our singles group he described himself as "recently divorced." He's obviously not looking to get married again anytime soon. He's just a quick to bail single dad. At least he didn't waste 11 months of my life like Ivan the Terrible.

Although he did just "like" my latest status update...
Copyright (c) "Ayelet Survivor"

Tuesday, August 21, 2012

Surprise! Ayelet stops holding back!

Alert the media.

So the tall cute single dad and I had a very close WWF game, started another, and continued chatting.

TCSD: Naughty WWF

(I played "SEX" for 30 points. Had to.)

Ayelet: that's the way you like it ;)
TCSD: Nice pic btw

Aha! He notices how I look! I played "DATED."

Ayelet: thanks :) see, in the PG WWF, "dated" comes before "sex" ;)
TCSD: Roflmao

Our first WWF game included some very naughty words and he called it "X-rated WWF." Either he thinks I'm hilarious or he's very polite. We played on, and he outscored me.

Ayelet: drat, you've overtaken me
TCSD: Yup it's clobbering time

There's the Chuck Norris fan I started playing with! It is a sad fact that I lose about five times as many WWF games as I win. I'm kind of resigned to it.

Ayelet: Well, you're in good company. Everyone beats me at WWF. I've learned not to take it personally.

I thought he'd respond with some playful aggression. Instead, he went all Dad on me.

TCSD: You're good and getting better. Stop psyching yourself out

My heart melted.

Ayelet: aww... :) thanks

And then I actually overtook him.

TCSD: Close game

And then I actually stopped playing it cool.

Ayelet: so what does the winner get? ;)

His next move won me the game, and he immediately started another. And continued our conversation. 

TCSD: Nice game! What's the bet? 
Ayelet: It was a close game, so I was wondering what the winner would get. But now that I know I won, it just looks like I'm asking you for something ;)

Trying to give him an out if he wants one.

He doesn't.

TCSD: Ok what's the bet in this game? Since you "smoked" me in the last game.

I agonized. What should I ask for? I don't know, what's fun and flirty but not desperate-sounding?

Ayelet: hmmm.... Winner gets a foot massage?

As soon as I sent it, I regretted it. Too sexual. Too forward. Inappropriate. Makes it look like I want him to touch me. What was I thinking?

TCSD: Deal

I love uncomplicated men. I think I really need one, because my own thinking gets so convoluted.

Ayelet: :) Now I can't decide if I want to win or lose...

Yeah, I've pretty much lost all pretense of playing it cool. I'll keep everyone posted.
Copyright (c) "Ayelet Survivor"

Sunday, August 19, 2012

Tall Cute Single Dad

So I met a tall, cute single dad (TCSD) in one of my singles FB groups. Actually, in his pictures he looks tall and cute, but I can't be sure because I've never met him in person. We have, however, been flirting. Sort of.

I recently started playing Words With Friends, the game that got Alec Baldwin kicked off an airplane. I don't find it that addictive, maybe because it doesn't show you the word score until after you've submitted the word (unlike the dear departed Scrabulous). But I have about 7 or 8 games going at any given time.

Someone named "Chuck Norris Rules" sent me a game request. Well, you don't turn down a Chuck Norris fan, right? That could be dangerous. So I accepted and we played for a while. Eventually he revealed that he's TCSD. We started exchanging little messages via the game. I didn't keep them, unfortunately, so you'll have to trust me when I say that he sounded flirtatious but not overly eager or enthusiastic. Kind of playing it lukewarm instead of entirely cool.

He also found me on OKCupid. We chatted some more -- again, he was very friendly but kind of noncommittal. And rated me either 4 or 5 stars -- the site doesn't tell you which, just that the person rated you highly. Fine, so I rated him highly too and the site generated an automatic message to each of us that we chose each other.

We chose each other! 
Hey Ayelet, We chose each other!
Reply to this message to contact me. If you don't want to receive rating messages, go to the settings page to change your notification settings.

Of course I didn't reply. I just kept playing WWF and responding to his messages there, friendly but not too encouraging.

Normally when I like a guy, I comment obsessively on his posts and updates. But I'm holding back this time, as difficult as that is. He posted a status update that he was going on a tropical vacation; I reminded him to wear sunscreen, but that was it. When he returned and posted photos, I looked but didn't comment. When he posts in the group, sometimes I comment and sometimes I don't. He's matching me in this, more or less. Except that when he got back from vacation, he emailed me on OKCupid:

TCSD: Hey Ayelet

A: Hey TCSD -- looks like you enjoyed your time in tropical paradise :)

TCSD: Uh oh you're now an expert in reading people. Yes I did

A: thanks to those links you posted ;)

He's a lawyer (shocker, another Jewish lawyer) and posted an article about how to tell if someone is lying. Which I found very revealing, and plan to review and learn from.

But... that was it. Except we've continued playing WWF. He's commented on some of my posts; I comment on very few of his, and very little that he's commented on.

Tall has never been an important criterion for me, since I'm very short, so physically it's awkward. Despite that, he looks very attractive, at least in the pictures. He's also the father of four children and doesn't want to have any more. Which I understand. Given my age, not to mention my back/knee problems and bipolar disorder, pregnancy might be a very bad idea for me. And I'd rather be married to someone who loves and accepts me, and decide not to have my own children because I have an important role in raising his, than hold out for the "perfect" man.

It's very unlike me to sit back and wait for a man to decide to ask me out. But I'm trying something different. Running after men like Broom Hilda hasn't gotten me anywhere in 42 years. I'm going to play it cool with this guy and anyone else who starts expressing interest.
Copyright (c) "Ayelet Survivor"

Thursday, August 09, 2012

Hypnotize me

I've been to two hypnosis sessions. Originally I was hoping it would help with the pain, and also assist me with sleep, anxiety, and anger management. Well, she's 2 for 4. I am notably less angry and anxious, while also still in pain and having trouble sleeping.

Hypnosis isn't like in the movies. No swinging watches. You are just assisted into a very relaxed state, and then the hypnotist talks to you, suggesting, for example, that when you get angry or anxious, you take a deep breath and return to that very relaxed state you're currently in.

That's been happening, and it's needed to, because life is mighty stressful right now. The knee pain is still very bad. My disability appeal was initially denied, and I had to scramble to get in all 40 or so pages of relevant paperwork. Because the appeal was denied, I got a very unfriendly letter from the administration, telling me I had to return to work immediately -- even though the doctor at Employee Health still considered me unfit for duty. (When you work in a hospital system and you get sick, you can't go back to work until a doctor declares you fit for duty.)

So that is uncomfortable and frightening. But I'm doing everything I can. I went back to Dr. Dashing in ferocious pain, perhaps in tiny part because I went to sing karaoke with friends the night before. Trust me, I didn't dance or stand nearly as much as I usually do. And I needed to get out. When you're not depressed, staying at home alone all the time is depressing. Also, it was extremely gratifying to see all heads whip around when I started belting out the chorus of "Since U Been Gone." I was declared the queen of karaoke, which I already knew, but it's nice to be confirmed.

The next day, I limped into Dr. Dashing's office, telling him my back was better but my knees were on fire. He hasn't given me any painkillers stronger than Voltaren gel, which constipates me handily but doesn't do much for the pain. I'd gone to two physical therapy sessions with a therapist who didn't believe my popliteus was the problem. He made me do strengthening exercises, and I was in pain for the next seven hours, until I put a Klonopin between my cheek and gum and sedated myself.

I got more than the sacroiliac injection we had discussed. Dr. Dashing had read up about a knee injection procedure he could also do, since the PT wasn't helping. Normally you wouldn't be able to get everything injected in just one visit, because insurance won't cover it, but Dr. Dashing took the opportunity to educate another fellow, who, oddly, had the same last name -- Epstein -- as the one I met at my first visit. Dr. Dashing ultrasounded and injected the left knee, and Dr. Epstein did the right knee. See one, do one, teach one.

The experience was simultaneously intimate and impersonal. I lay on my stomach, panties rolled most of the way down, and at any given time up to three doctors palpated, poked, prodded, and injected.

"I'm curious..." said Dr. Dashing. I assumed he was talking about the prominent mole on my behind.

"It's benign and atypical," I said.

"Excuse me?" he asked, poking at my back.

"Ow," I said.

"There," he said. "Still tender. You said your back is feeling better now that you're done with the Bactrim, but this is still abnormally tender." Abnormally tender could refer to so many physical and emotional parts of me.

But the best part was when he ultrasounded my left knee and saw excess fluid.

"Whoa," he said. "There's a lot of fluid there."

"Thank ya, Jesus!" I crowed. A lot of my patients say this when they're really grateful. I don't know why it slipped out. It seemed to disconcert him. "Or Moses," he said.

"Do you know why it's there?" I asked. He didn't, and didn't seem curious. But that doesn't even really matter. Now I have proof that there is something wrong. Something that wasn't visible on my February 2012 ultrasound. Proof that there is a reason for my pain.

Of course, having proof is good, but having relief would be better. He said the injections would take about two weeks to reach full efficacy. The first two days were agony -- I don't know how many needle sticks I endured, but from what I overheard while I lay prone, it was quite a few. Now I'm a teensy bit better, but still in pain. Wearing knee braces helps, but I still wake up to urinate (despite the Bactrim and a few weeks on Macrobid) a few hours after falling asleep, and then can't fall back to sleep.

Which was something the hypnotist targeted. "If you wake up to use the bathroom, when you return to bed you will immediately return to a deep relaxed state and easily fall back asleep," she said. (I think -- it's hard to pay attention when you're that relaxed, and you don't really need to because supposedly they're talking to your subconscious anyway.)

That sort of happened last night. But not tonight, which is why I'm blogging at 5:30 am. I don't want to get into the habit of taking Klonopin every night.

Still, I'm in a fairly good mood -- even though I'm in pain, even though I'm barely sleeping, even though I'm extremely nervous about supposedly returning to work next week. I'm cheerful. My friends are bending over backwards to be nice to me. Alona got me a fantastic book by one of my favorite authors. Harriet is taking me to a fantastic New Jersey museum as a belated birthday gift. (We're going to borrow a wheelchair, and I could never get there by mass transit. She's even picking me up at home. Full service.) Other friends are hanging out with me, calling me, having coffee or dinner with me. Or inviting me to dinner at their homes.

If my job and pain were bearable, I think I'd actually be pretty happy with my life. As it is, I know that being angry or anxious won't help anything. Even though I'm terrified of losing my job, my independence, and my rent-stabilized apartment. But I'm doing everything I can to restore my health and comply with all the various systems -- union, administration, and disability insurance. I'm trying to enjoy life a little, going out with friends while still trying to rest. Yesterday I saw my psychiatrist and then went to a seminar on trauma. 

So things could be worse. I don't want to lose my job, I'm looking for another job, but I'm not stressing about it. I'm doing the best I can, and I have to be happy with that.
Copyright (c) "Ayelet Survivor"