Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Woman on the Verge of Paradise: Mr. Par's Taunting

  Sign reads: "May you find Paradise to be all its name implies."

Thanks for joining me on the verge of Paradise, as a new chapter of my life unfolds. This series can be found in the Paradise button to the left. While I alter some details as I see fit, I do my best to remain true to place and time. Mojo really is my housemate's cat. How could I change that name?   This post follows from the last. Enjoy.
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I’m a misfit too. Scanning the scene, I note approximately two churches per residence and just one little synagogue in the greater area. That’s one temple for over 100,000 people. Further, It seems everyone has a family and works for Wal-Mart or Country Waffles. One does not profess liberal values in Paradise lest one has no regard for one’s life.  Chico’s a bit more open-minded with the campus influence. The city’s full of bronze beauties and young studs who strive to change the world or score some booty at the next frat party. At 45 –gulp- I’m hopelessly trying to find a niche and, admittedly, a man.

I wish Paradise wasn’t about finding the man, but it is. We’re hard- wired pre-birth to believe it. Celibacy is really only my choice when it’s the only sane choice. There we have it. I stupidly equate Paradise with a man. Mr. Paradise shows up on a whim, strutting my way in Armani swag presenting a 10-pound box of Swiss chocolates. I swoon with foolish ecstasy, declare our relationship to the world, and give Mr. Par my all. By the time I sneeze the Par’s gone subpar and this cycle repeats.

Last Wednesday, for example, Mr. Par approached me at a salsa club. He had a pulse, I figured, so I knew our dance would certainly culminate in happily-ever-after. During a second twirl, I could picture our wedding –a quaint ceremony in Vegas with Elvis and a Rabbi, or maybe Elvis was the Rabbi…I couldn’t tell if he was wearing a kippah[1]. That part was fuzzy, pelvic thrusting (Elvis’, not mine) and all.  Upon the third twirl, though, the glow of my partner’s wedding band blinded me with clarity: Paradise taunts!

I know, I know. I’ll find someone in time, maybe. Enjoy my life without the complications and heartaches, etc. And I do. But I can’t ignore Mr. Par when he enters the picture with flirtatious winks.  And I can’t pretend to not be looking for him when I just am. Always. So he’s forever popping into and out of view. When he does, I can't help but stare nonchalantly at such an appealing package.

The experts and Dr. Phil inundate us singletons with mishegosh[2] regarding the need to love yourself first, no one else can complete your life, look inward not outward and blah blah blah and all that other crap I hate to hear. Because it’s true.

Sigh.

Slurp. Slurp, slurp. Damnit. Still nothing.

I pry my lips from the straw and sit back again. Staring at the bottom of an empty cup, I relish in the sweet flavors lingering on my tongue. Paradise is, after all, only eight miles away. Maybe even closer. I guess I just don’t know it.


[1] The little beanie some Jews wear on their heads, especially during worship.
[2] Yiddish for foolishness, nonsense.

30 comments:

  1. Ahem....tuning my voice. SOMEDAY, YOUR PRINCE WILL COME.... (Sorry if I hurt your ears.)

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  2. Sorry about all those sub par guys. when one of those guys approaches you...look to the right or left there on the side might be a great guy who was just not fast enough!
    Blessings, Joanne

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  3. Sometimes you find the right one when you aren't looking.

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  4. You get that Vegas wedding with a Rabbi Elvis, I want photos!

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  5. I agree with Ruth. I wasn't looking when I found my Prince, but I did kiss a few toads before he came along!

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  6. Thank you, sweet people.

    Alex, Rabbi Elvis would be quite the character.

    xoRobyn

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  7. I've seen Korean Elvis, Japanese Elvis, Irish Elvis, but never Rabbi Elvis. I feel that he would be the best.

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  8. If you were in the jungle, I'd advise you to trust your nose rather than your eyes. "Mishegosh" is an interesting word. Is it related to "Meshugana"?

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  9. Your search for Mr. Par is yielding some damn fine blog posts! Love the way these are written. Such description.

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  10. I'm definitely with Dawn on this one.

    Good hunting! :-)

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  11. Hope springs eternal. (As does frustration.)
    I’m sending you (via mental vibes) my share of hope ‘cause I’m not looking!
    Keep slurping and keep your eyes open!

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  12. OMG can I relate. I want companionship and sex, but I'll settle for someone who can read and who doesn't have scrape marks on his knuckles.

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  13. It's sick and sad that I only wish you could find a boy to defile. I would happily take one for the team...or several...over a long weekend with cartoon characters.

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  14. You seriously should write a book. I was hooked reading this, and not just because we are friends and I'm curious about your life!

    I would predict that the right guy will come along when you least expect it. That does seem to be how life works. It's the waiting and not knowing that is so frustrating. :S

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  15. Maybe u can have Rabbi Elvis try some Hebrew hip hop in his baritone voice...par or not...Eden is for Eve to claim...so enjoy our glorious bachelorette days till some one comes along, with his dirty stinky socks on the floor. :)slurp...

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  16. The looking part sucks, doesn't it. I hated it, so I hardly ever did it. I lucked out finding Boyfriend the way I did. But I truly believe that you'll find him...somehow. Keep your chin up, friend. :)

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  17. Mr. Par? So you have a thing for golfers? Must be those cool pants.

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  18. I just want to say I love you all.

    Kal, I'm blushing. You mean you'd pick me over cartoon characters? Jessica Rabbit even?

    TS, I'm thinking I need to do something with this Rabbi Elvis character (if not be married by or to him).

    GB, yes. It's basically the same thing except mishegosh refers to things whereas mishugenah refers to people. Very good on your part.

    Dawn and KC thank you.

    Melissa, love the way your commiserate.

    JennFab, that really means a lot, especially coming from a seasoned writer. Thanks, friend.

    Rek, I know. The grass is always greener...Thanks.

    Al, I could respond with a gold pun but I'll keep this tasteful. Not sure why.

    xoRobyn

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  19. Oy, Melissa, I meant "you" not "your".

    Al, I meant "golf" not "gold".

    xo

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  20. I have a feeling when you least expect it, the right guy will appear...and will be worthy of you! xo

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  21. It really irritates me that some married guy is all flirty in a club. It is like FALSE ADVERTISING!!! Maybe go take a class or do some kind of County Park event to meet some REGULAR normal nice guys? I am far from the expert in this department but I'm not sure the club scene is the best place to meet solid prospects for long term relationships! W.C.C.

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  22. Sometimes the search is the problem, perhaps one will fall off a rainbow and land in your lap unexpectedly?

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  23. I felt the same way for a while. Every guy that came my way was a loser. So I went on the internet to find one. Granted, I had to move a few states over, but we're happily married now. Your guy will come. The idiot just doesn't know he's missing out on a fine lady. :)

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  24. Was it something about their putters always getting in the way?
    Speaking of....I only have a short game.

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  25. I hope you find someone, and that your date goes as well as your writing ;)

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  26. Thanks, Damon and Bones.

    Marnie, thank you.

    WC, I appreciate that. There are lots of creepy men out there and the salsa scene is no exception. This guy wasn't flirtatious. I wonder why he goes dancing alone, though.

    Tera, yeah, the search sucks.

    Laila, I like your story. Thanks for sharing it.

    Oh Al, size doesn't matter. Giggle, snort, as my nose grows.

    Lisa, how nice. Thanks so much.

    xoRobyn

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  27. It must be tough out there.
    Well, you could always go for one of the younger studs.. teach them a thing or two..

    ..or lower your standards.. for a night at least..

    A woman is not a camel.. chocolate is good but...


    ;)

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