Good for Me… At Least for this Moment
Copyrighted by Lorna Tedder. Originally published in Passion to the Third Degree .
So this guy is good for me, at least for this moment. I have no idea where it will go or for how long but as I’ve said before, I’m just enjoying it and accepting the gift that it is to me for while it’s in my life.
I’m being wined and dined and romanced to a level that is oh-so-sweet, complete with poetry and all the trappings a hopeless romantic like me adores. The financial prosperity of this friendship seems to match it to a predicted Ten of Pentacles type relationship—happy, very prosperous, having-it-all kind of affair. The danger there is that I might unconsciously sabotage a relationship with a man whose income is quite a few multiples of my own current salary. In most cases, money doesn’t matter to me, but maybe it’s possible that too much money matters. This is new territory. Or maybe it’s just Law of Attraction stuff, where I’m already feeling prosperous and that attracts prosperity.
But he’s good for me in lots of unexpected ways, including his suggestions for Shannon’s career-related qualms and his kind offers to check into some professional offices on her behalf. Not to mention his repeated attempts to get me to go away with him for a weekend to some secluded beach.
I’m definitely covering a little bit different territory of personal excavation than I have in many, many years. For the past half-decade, I’ve watched so many women friends get “work” done, starting in their late 30’s and becoming frantic in their early 40’s. The boob jobs and lifts, the tummy tucks, the face lifts, the Botox treatments, the wrinkle injections—the evil messages from a youth-oriented society. Except for laser-work on my face for a childhood dog bite scar and rosacea, I’m about the only one of my close friends/colleagues my age who hasn’t had “work” done. It’s an unnerving “competition” that has many women in their 40’s hiding behind sunglasses and doors. But apparently I’m in a lot better shape than I’ve been giving myself credit for. And yes, I’m grinning.
I’ve never been one to live harmoniously in my own body. Maybe that’s from my Southern Baptist “thou-shalt-be-ashamed-thee-has-a-sinful-body” childhood or maybe that’s from Depression Era parents who saw anything more than skin-and-bones as fat or maybe that’s from a society that led me to believe I was overweight at 105 pounds or maybe that’s from the constant bombardment of the beauty industry’s marketing that says you’re nothing but a has-been once you reach 35 and it’s best if you just fade into sexual nothingness after 40. In any case, I’m not someone who has ever, ever, ever lived harmoniously in my own body, no matter how thinned or buff I’ve been at different times in my life. It was always never enough or the wrong thing, and it makes me dreadfully envious of those bepaunched and balding men in their 50’s who think they’re God’s gift to womankind while expecting physical perfection from smart young women who are far more gifted than what any of them could dare to dream.
But The Ten of Pents is definitely bringing out a confidence that I probably have never had, ever. Maybe, too, it’s the fact that he’s a physician that gives his opinion a little more credibility than the average Joe trying to get in my pants—or up my skirts, as the case may be. The message I’ve been hearing for most of my life is that once you’re a woman of 40, men will no longer be attracted to you physically and you’ll have to settle for whatever you can get.
Ah, but that’s so not true…. I’ve never settled, and now I’m appreciating the attraction part of that equation.