IUI #6 happened Saturday and for the first time was done by a Eastern European male nurse practitioner who mechanically told me step by step what was happening and smiled at me like we shared a secret. I asked him how my cervix looked and he said, “normal.” (I was looking for something more like, “fertile.”) Notably, he told me to do whatever I wanted for the rest of the day, and I said, “Really? That’s the first time I’ve heard that.” He said there was nothing I could do to affect the outcome. I think he represented the most medical and least psychological perspective on this, and rather than going for a run afterward, I went home and took a nap.
That night, I went to dinner and a Halloween party as Zombie Cinderella. After borrowing the lovely costume (because it looked nice and was a quick and easy solution), I soon realized my error as I contemplated actually walking around the Mission in this un-ironic get-up. Not to mention the fact that this particular fairy tale irks me more than any of them, and so does Disney for fanning the flames of expectation among little girls who grow up dreaming of being rescued by the perfect man. Then we all learn the hard way that no man is perfect and no one can rescue you from yourself, and lives continue to unfold in all their glorious imperfections well beyond the happily ever after. I still believe I’ll find my Prince Charming, but he will be imperfect and our life together will have highs and lows, starting with the fact that I might be a member of the AARP by the time he gets here. Meanwhile, I stopped at Walgreen’s for zombie makeup and watched a YouTube video on how to achieve a “freshly dead” look, putting a new, irreverent spin on this iconic character, and it somehow worked. My poor friend who loaned me the costume and just married her Prince Charming mustered a, “Somehow you still look beautiful…”
The next day, I did a day-long retreat at Spirit Rock, focused on nature. The whole thing was outside, under a bough of trees in the golden hills and clear blue sky. We sat in a meadow as the sun rose behind our teacher through the trees, then moved to the other side at mid-day to stay in the shade, watching as the sun set behind him. In the middle, I took a big nap during the lunch hour. There was a woman there who resembled the girlfriend of a guy from my past and I was sending subconscious resentment her way without realizing it. Later, in the group of about fifty, she happened to be sitting next to me when it was time to get partners. One of us closed our eyes while the other led us around gently to something in the nature around us–a rock, a tree, etc.–and put our hands on it, letting us explore it for a while without using our sight. We were mostly silent or whispering or giggling as we went through this exercise which sounds so basic but is very sensual and bonding and exciting. I was so intrigued that this woman to whom I had attributed this tangle of hurt feelings turned out to feel like a friend and a sister as we walked together arm in arm like Helen Keller and Ann Sullivan. I felt truly awakened by that experience–compassion, connection, loving-kindness.
Then we won the World Series, again! Unlike two years ago when I was out partying in the streets, I was asleep by 10 despite the cars honking and revelry outside. Then the hurricane stopped everything coming out of New York and I am totally catching up on work (and hoping all my east coast friends are doing fine).
Meanwhile, Baseball Guy from Friday night hasn’t called, which is unexpected considering how I thought it went, but you just never know with people, do you? The Moroccan is back, texting up a storm, but we can’t ever seem to coordinate on a time that works for both of us because he works evenings. And, introducing Mr. Hawaii, who found me online almost a year ago–we became facebook friends which is usually a mistake but in this case has allowed me to get to know him passively over time, and he feels like an old friend. He’s a naturopathic doctor. He just emailed me that he’s coming to SF after Thanksgiving! So…finally we will meet.
Meanwhile, I’m considering giving up dating for a while. Can I just can the whole thing and be content with my friends and family and work and my maybe-zygote? Is it time for a guy-atus?