Sharks and Hearts

I'm giving up my Carrie Bradshaw persona, one of being over analytical, over sensitive, over forgiving when it comes to relationships and am now going to proudly take on the Samantha Jones, I love you, but I love me more attitude.

I've been single now for a little while - never expected it in my mid 50's, but then again, none of us know what awaits us in our future. Sure, we make plans, we plan on forever, but forever lives in our heads and is felt in our hearts but that doesn't mean it exists in the physical realm at all.

Dating at this point in time is very different than when you are in your 20's or 30's. There is a feeling of now or never, don't waste my time, put all your cards on the table, life stories are shared in a matter of hours. We don't have the luxury of time, of getting to know each other slowly ~ steeping like a good English tea in a fabulous little tea house - we are more like a quick cup of coffee that we grab through the Starbucks drive-through, gulping it down quickly on the interstate.

Being middle aged and meeting people whom are also middle aged (ok, I know, I am taking some liberty here with the definition of "middle-aged", but this is my blog) is a whole lot different than meeting people in your 20's and 30's. In some ways we feel even more connected, like old war buddies, we've been through similar battles. And all battles impart scars and leave you with an entirely different outlook than before you went to war, a bit jumpy, edgy, nervous and spending more time than you like inside your own head. We come wearing our armbands of compassion, but we also secretly pack our fears and scepticism inside our boots.

I've been amazed by the stories I've heard; about good love gone bad. About dealing with users, cheaters, fakers, great pretenders, thief's of the heart, thief's of the soul. And these stories are not confined to one gender, they cross borders, they do not discriminate. If you are single at this age in your life, you have more than likely at least once fallen into the shark tank of love, got seriously chewed up, luckily spit out, only to land on dry ground, bleed a bit and wait to be resuscitated, hopefully with all limbs still intact. They say in every life, inside every person, there is a heart once broken. Some get just slightly cracked while others get completely pulverized.

Pul-ver-ize

v. pul-ver-ized, pul-ver-iz-ing, pul-ver-iz-es

*1. To pound, crush, or grind to a powder or dust

2. To demolish

* Great if that involves food and some kind of kitchen appliance, not so great on a heart or any body part.

But no matter how much damage has been done, how much hurt we have endured, we still want to try it again. It is why we are alive. To make that connection. To feel passion, intensity, heat. I heard a line the other day about love, and losing love. It was something pertaining to the fact that when your heart is broken, when you hurt, you know it was a love that was worth having. Pretty profound, even if the line came from Phil on an episode of "Modern Family" so not sure if it really is true, but I like how it sounds. It is always amazing to me the strength of the human spirit, the will to live, the will to love, the will to keep going, to keep having faith. Faith in something. We all want to believe. If we can't have Santa, the tooth fairy, the results promised from the "As seen on TV" ab exercise machine, we can always hold on tight to that belief in the power of love.

I want to fall in love again, or I should say, be in love again. The falling part isn't so good. And it isn't love that people are afraid of, it is what happens to us if we lose it. Nothing feels worse. But like car keys, your pin number, occasionally your own mind, it does create panic when you lose them, but it sure feels good when you get them back.