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2004-04-27 @ 3:51 p.m.
matchmaker, matchmaker make me a match

Anyone ever have a secret benefactor and they don't know who they are? It appears I have one. I've never had one before. It's kinda fun. It's kinda mysterious. It's kinda oogly boogly.

But I got an e-mail this morning saying I was suddenly the proud owner of a Super Gold Membership. Funny, I don't remember ordering one of those. I'm kinda down to the last $75 for the month...wondering if I'm going to be able to afford cat litter and Suave shampoo down at the Dollar Store and than Wham-OOO, this big old honking Super Gold Membership was sitting there.

So, gee, thanks to whomever. I had been getting worried about posting my artwork, since my space had been filling up rather rapidly, and now I have like 939 gazillion megabytes, so now its your fault, if you have to look at my artwork and pictures of Austin Powers getting spanked by Miss Heather.

Today has been good for other reasons. Had my appointment with "A" today. Had planned on discussing my distress at his departure in September, especially since I have been under an extremely dark cloud about it this whole last week.

Yesterday during my survivor group, I pretty much just wept uncontrollably and compared it to losing my Dad a few years ago. I knew the Filipino mail order whore was going to take my Alzheimer's ridden Dad to the Philippines in a few months, and yet I was totally powerless to stop it. And that has been how "A"'s departure has felt.

But "A" and I didn't talk about that at all. We touched on his favorite subject...Married Guy. And, as usual, I was trying to convince him, that I wanted to change things but that I just needed assistance.

I also told him about that guy Kevin in my art class. And of course "A" wanted me to ask him out for coffee.

Argghhhh! I am so shy I can barely even talk in my art class. And this Kevin is totally non-threatening. He's small...even kinda Woody Allenesque. I could probably stomp on his glasses and make him cry, yet I'm still scared to make any kind of move on him, since my intense fear of rejection has me paralyzed from my eyebrows down.

Not really sure where that came from. In my twenties I enjoyed a very pleasant dating life. The numbers didn't exactly approach double digits or anything, but I never dated anybody but nice guys. And never had a shred of trouble with any of them. No abusive guys. No bad breakups. No stalkers. All of them were incredibly nice.

So what am I afraid of? Not sure really.

And then "A" did the thing that makes me like him so much. The up close and personal pep talk. Taking me by the shoulders, looking deep into my eyes and telling me I was a pretty woman. YIKES!

...does not compute Will Robinson...

But OK, it did make me feel good. I admit it. I never got any of that growing up. My mom would only say that in front of people, and than behind the scenes, it was "your nose is big, your teeth are funny, your ass is big" (which is totally untrue. I have a really cute ass).

After my appointment I had a quick lunch, and then went back to "A's" for our group. It was a good group. I really like group settings, and have never had trouble talking in groups as long as I'm comfortable with who's running it.

Afterwards, I was out in the parking lot talking with a girl "M", who I used to be friendly with. She just got out of the hospital and we were talking about being bipolar.

And then suddenly there was a guy from the group standing there. He's probably in my age range, kinda stocky with blonde hair. Looks a little like the Dad in "Eight's Enough". He asked me about the art classes I had mentioned in group.

I told him about the class with the Crazy Crazies, and about the figure drawing class on Wednesday night. I said if he ever wanted to come down to the mental health center for the Crazy Crazy class he was welcome and then I told him where it was at.

And then he dropped the "L" bomb.

"Well, maybe we could go to lunch sometime..."

Lunch? Eep. Naturally I immediately got really nervous at the suggestion of lunch...with a single in I could accidently splash soup on my nose or a nearby customer or HIM and look like a total geek and be rejected solely on the basis of that event...and...and...and (breathe, Witty, breathe....). So naturally I quickly changed the subject back to the art class and said if he wanted to come to that he was welcome. He kept smiling, but I knew he felt shot down.

Sorry single guy....I only like to make my life miserable with married men.

Don't really know if that was a total no. I'm just not particularly interested in him. He's not my type physically at all. I don't like stocky or blonde. I like slender and dark haired. But I'm sure if I told "A" that he'd say WHAT CHOICE DO YOU HAVE??????

That was actually part of what we were talking about in group...about how time is awastin' for all of us, to find in YOU'RE GETTING OLD, AND SOON NOBODY IS GOING TO WANT YO' WRINKLY ASS!

Yeah, I know but...Can't I have someone besides the Dad in "Eight's Enough"? I'd even rather have the Woody Allen guy at my art class more than him. Of course that would be up to me, right?

Damn! And if that's the case, I'll probably be 93 and too freakin' old to even gum a guy by time I make the decision to let someone take me on a date.

And you know what? I see "A"'s sneaky little paws in on all of this. Why? Because him and this guy from my group were having a little pow wow right after group. And "A" had made me feel all girly and pretty beforehand.

And knowing "A" as well as I do, he was probably being Yenta the Matchmaker surreptitiously, because he does things like that. Things that aren't quite kosher for a therapist to do, yet because its "A", and he wants people to be happy, ya kinda let it slide.

So tomorrow night is my art class with Future Husband #1....Woody/Kevin. Should I try and talk to him a little more? Should I go and look at his artwork and tell him how fabulous he is? Guys like that sort of thing, right?

How the hell am I supposed to know? I haven't had a date since the mid-1980's.

What's a date? Arghhhh!

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Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty