Vol. 2, Post #87 Lemme get right to the point

I want. My weekly sex tips for girls* (*girls who are holding on to mid-life by a thread). A dating odyssey for Young Olds (people with readers).

I’ve really prided myself on coming up with new material on a regular basis for this Substack. To date, I’ve published 102 posts in the nearly two years I’ve been writing here, which somewhat astonishes me. How much dick and pussy chitchat can I generate? How many “rules” and “shoulds vs. wants” shall I pick apart? How much eye-rolling behavior (mine or that of others) needs to be scrutinized?

With this in mind, I really struggled with what I wanted to say this week and I’m still not entirely sure that I am making sense of how I’m feeling. Let me try to be articulate.

If you know me outside of this page, you know that over the last few years, I’ve been deeply engaged in a regular Tarot practice, studying with current scholars as well as pouring over all of the classic texts about reading cards, devouring the ancient history and origin story (Tarot originated in 15th Century Milan, Italy) and drilling down on the methodology that rings truest for me (I use Tarot as a way of deepening my own intuition and learning more about myself, not as a fortune telling practice — and anyone who DOES tell you that Tarot is a tool for predicting the future, is, I hate to say it, a quack). All this to say that since I’ve been almost religiously reading for myself (and others — I have a thriving Tarot practice, Cazimi Modern Tarot, if you’re curious and want to book an appointment), I’ve gotten very, very good at understanding what makes me happiest, calmest, and most centered. In other words, Tarot is part of my daily regime, same as journaling, walking in the woods, and drinking coffee before the phone blows up with work calls. For me, Tarot is akin to exhaling. Here’s my logo, made by my ever-gorgeous pal Acacia. Isn’t is beautiful?

Because I photograph all of my readings, and because I also jot down notes about how I’m feeling and what is being underscored in the cards, lately I’ve noticed somewhat of an “insistent theme,” as it were. Certain cards are literally banging me over the head, telling me that it’s not only OK to want this, but that it’s time to “get” this. So what’s this?

I want a boyfriend. I want to fall in love again.

And it’s so complicated and daunting and messy and the last few months have been PRECISELY THE OPPOSITE of complicated and daunting and messy! Dare I leave the paradise of where I’ve been luxuriating for a dip back into unknown murky waters?

If you were to walk into my house, and open my drawers and cupboards, peek down into my basement, literally nose around in any part of my house, you’d see some over-the-top refined living large. I’ve gotten a ton of pleasure out of the simplest of things: organizing paperwork, gathering books to donate to Free Libraries, selling off a large amount of my SIZEABLE Mid-century Modern glass and pottery collections. I’ve always been a neat freak, but I’ve kind of gone next level on this and it feels great. It’s not quite Swedish Death Cleaning, although I don’t want to burden my kid with any of this; it’s more like I am plotting my future here (and abroad, as I plan to spend some real time in Rome going forward) and I want to be able to seamlessly rent my house while I travel and not worry about so much “stuff.” Last week, I tried something new: I rented out the guest wing in my house to a really lovely couple who wanted a country escape for a few days (renting out this mostly untouched bed/bath suite to vetted people is my new effortless side hustle) and part of the joy in that? I went through the closet and bureau in that bedroom, tossing out some old sheets and replacing them with new beautiful bedding, moving around some quilts and antique rugs, and just being, well, extra tidy AND efficient and enjoying the exquisite charm that is simply existing in this space.

How does all of this figure into now setting my sights on a boyfriend or falling in love again? I think I had some pretty cosmic cleaning out to get through, in my house and in my head and heart, ahead of saying I was ready for a new chapter. And now my home looks extra fresh and gorgeous and welcoming. Just like I feel extra fresh and gorgeous and welcoming. I do. I can see it on my face and more than a handful of people have asked me recently if I’ve “had work.” Ha! No, I‘ve just DONE THE WORK!

So back to boyfriends and love. Over the better part of the last six months, I’ve been chatting with a couple of men who have definitely piqued my interest. One of them, I’ve decided, is not for me for a few reasons that I’m chalking up lessons learned once that don’t need repeating (thank you, Tarot practice!) and the other man is someone who, yes, gulp, I can potentially really really see in my future. He’s my Slow Burn Guy and, as I’ve written about him before, the reason for our slow burn is very valid. He’s moving through a pretty big life event. We’ve discussed it at length and as a slow burn indeed can be intriguing as fuck, I’ve been good with it. However…today, I wanted something more from where we’ve been burning. Not sure I was feeling devilish, but I was feeling, well, the flames of desire were licking my toes.

What happened was that late last week, when I was reading Tarot at the fabulous shop, Witch Please New York, in Beacon (I’m part of their coven of readers and I see people in the shop a few times a month), someone told me about a sober bar and cafe in Manhattan that is also bringing in Tarot readers for special events. As I enjoy reading at parties and events (I’m reading at a Rocky Horror Picture Show screening on Thursday ahead of the film), I particularly like to read for people who are not drunk or stoned because, duh, talk about a dulled sensation for all. So reading Tarot at a sober bar, and for that matter, a wildly popular sober bar, would be a delight. I connected with one of the owners of the bar, sent over my credentials, etc., and discussed how they might work me into the mix. And then I told my Slow Burn about it and asked if he wanted to head down to the city and check it out with me. He said he was curious about the scene there and that yes, he’d be down to go with me, but he stopped short of accepting my invitation to make a firm date to go.

I didn’t love that.

We’ve spent enough time together that I feel at ease with suggesting a casual invite for an adventure, and likewise, we’ve discussed at length his Big Life Event that keeps things paced accordingly. I appreciate and respect where he is on that. I also appreciate and respect what I need, after all of this Tidying Up. So I decided to say as much to him.

“Question: do you want me to hold back on asking you to do stuff? I figure we’re in the place where I can ask you this. I don’t want to overload you, and I like you, so that’s the balance, isn’t it?”

That ^^^ was the text I sent him after we were messaging back and forth earlier today. And do you know what? It’s now about twelve hours later and he still hasn’t answered me. So I guess he’s thinking about it.

The funny part? This doesn’t concern me. In fact, I like it. I know what I want and whether it’s Tarot or Tidying, I’m walking towards my own desires with purpose. I’ve made a decision that at nearly 58 years old, I’m ready for a boyfriend again and I’m ready to fall in love again. It took me nearly two years to get over my last real love relationship and a lot of that was more painful than I realized when I was initially soldiering on from it. I think it was somewhere in between shredding decades old bank statements and tossing stretched out hoodies when I realized, all of this cleaning house is really because I’ve indeed Cleaned House.

Back to my witchy woo…I’ve also found that when I set my intentions under a full moon, or for that matter, under a new moon (I live in a mountainside country town with gorgeous star-filled skies and peeping the moon is a huge thing for many of us), I’m not “suggesting” what I want to see and feel next. Bring me…I’ve whispered to the moon. I want! I want! Like the William Blake illustration up top, circa 1793, from “The Gates of Paradise.”

My Slow Burn may be a wonderful boyfriend someday and I have no idea if that day is soon or never. But if he’s not, my entire being, including my intuition, tells me that someone else will be. And I think I’m ready to get complicated, daunted, and messy again. Under the moon or under the covers, shuffling the cards and reading with my entire heart and self splayed wide open.

(POSTSCRIPT: It’s 24 hours later and I just heard from my Slow Burn. A fifth grader might have delivered a better response. And the Old Abbe, before this Deep Clean, would’ve worked with this. The New Abbe? Well, that’s a whole other Tarot card. )

We’re now officially in Open Enrollment Season for Abbe’s New Boyfriend. Gentlemen, start your engines!