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The End
I started writing Darcy Dates nearly two years ago. It was born in my bed on my laptop one evening after I had my fill of experiences and wanted to start documenting them. It started as something I did for myself. I shared it with five friends, who shared it with their friends, and so on, and so forth…until I had real readers. Who were strangers. I couldn’t have been more honored. To write publicly is to really put yourself out there and I couldn’t have been more thrilled that people actually liked what I was writing. But I wasn’t completely putting myself out there. After all, I was writing under a pen name. Darcy, some of you will be surprised to know, is not my real name.
When I started writing Darcy, no one knew I was Darcy, but over time some people began to catch on so what I wanted to write about became harder and harder to do.
What I did realize through writing Darcy was while I thought I was trying to find love, in the process, I was really finding myself. In the time since I have began writing Darcy I have broken some hearts, and some have broken mine. I have learned what I want in a partner, and I have learned what I definitely don’t want. It’s a process. While often exhilarating, it’s sometimes exhausting.
When I lost my father I learned many important lessons. But one of the most important things I learned is it’s not what you have, it’s who you have by your side. Through this process my friends, my family, and my number one man, my son have been my rock. They have been my everything. I was one of the lucky ones because I had love with me all along. Real, true unconditional love.
I have a ton of stories I have written for Darcy Dates that I haven’t published. That is mainly because I don’t feel the freedom to write what I want like I did when this project first began. And without me being able to be me and write what I truly want to write it won’t be as authentic as it always was. For that reason I have decided to no longer write about my dates. Fear not, as I will continue writing. I will write about other things. Life, daily observations, experiences, my mother and of course Robbie (because how could I not). But not my dates. You can find my new stories at my new site, The Darcy Report. You can also follow my blog on Huffington Post Comedy. I promise to keep you entertained, or at least I promise to try.
Thank you so much for your support over these past two years. I can’t have asked for a better group of readers and I am so honored when each of you shared it, liked it, wrote me, commented and shared your stories with me. I hope you continue to do the same when I am writing about other things.
So…I know what you are all thinking. Where does the story of Darcy Dates end?
My first love after my divorce was Colby. Some of you may remember me writing about him in Yankees vs. Red Sox & Having What It Takes. Colby and I were in love. Real love. He was my best friend and everything I wanted in a partner. To me he was perfect. They say timing is everything, and that may be true. Colby and I met when we were each newly divorced. We were just learning the ropes of single parenthood. Colby broke up with me suddenly and unexpectedly after a year of dating. He broke my heart into 4000 tiny pieces. I thought I would never recover. Three months later he came back. He said he needed to make sure this was what he wanted, after all he was so newly divorced. But it was too late. He had hurt me too badly and I thought it would never be the same. So I broke his and started dating someone else. He waited. He tried patiently for over a year. I don’t think he even dated. He just waited. We would get together, and I would try, but I was worried it was too broken and couldn’t be fixed. Even though I loved him and thought he was everything. No matter what we were doing, through the years we would always find our way back to each other. He would drop everything when I would call. This went on for 4 years.
The truth is, I wasn’t ready. I had to go on this journey and find myself and find out what I was looking for and what I needed and what I wanted. Through this process, I have. I started to really question what it is I wanted and what it was I was searching for. I learned that all relationships are different. There are even different types of love. Some people feel like a home. And others…they feel like a tent. I started to think about Colby. Colby felt like home. I started to think about what we had. I started to think about what an idiot I was. He was one of the best guys I knew. I started to lose sleep over it. I started to think about it obsessively. I reached out to him several times over the past few months but he refused to speak to me. And I didn’t blame him. I had hurt him. The same way he had hurt me. I finally decided to write him a letter. I put my entire heart in there and waited. But once again our timing wasn’t right. Colby informed me he had a girlfriend. I asked if he wanted me to leave him alone. To just say the word and I would. He said yes. Being that this whole thing was my fault, and given the level of respect I have for Colby, I did. I knew it was my own fault. You see, nine months ago, after spending a great few days with Colby I told him I couldn’t be with him. Why? Because I knew being with Colby meant forever. And that scared the living shit out of me. I have very few regrets, but this was one of them.
I didn’t hear from Colby for two months. A week ago, after dropping Bear off at school, I was turning the corner into my building when I heard someone call out.
“Hey.”
I turned to find Colby. All 6’4″ of him standing there. He had been waiting for me. He was wearing a Patriots hat, but I will let it slide. Mainly because the Giants keep beating them in the super bowl.
“What are you doing here?”
“I knew you’d be dropping Bear off at school this morning so I waited for you to get home.”
“Why?” I asked.
“I want to talk about that letter.”
One of my favorite quotes by Orsen Welles is “If you want a happy ending, that depends of course on where you stop your story.”
I choose to stop the story Darcy Dates here. You, my friends, can write your own ending. What do you think happened with me and Colby?
See you at The Darcy Report
Love and light.
All my love,
Jena (AKA Darcy)
P.s.- If you are signed up to follow Darcy Dates, you will have to sign up separately to follow the Darcy Report.
Robbie Gets Cocky
“Do you know that I have given a UTI to every girl I have dated?”
“Um…no. I actually did not know that.”
“It’s cause I have a such a powerful penis.”
Crickets.
“Want me to give you a UTI?”
“No. I’m good.”
At least he has a new angle. Promising things like infections and discomfort. Come to think of it, he’s like an infection. That you just can’t get rid of. Oh Robbie. We love you.
(See: Channeling Demi, Robbie Reunion, The Robbie Report, He’s Baaack, My Date With Robbie, Robbie.com, Hey Jealousy, A Visit From Robbie , A Diamond is Forever and So Is Robbie, Advice From My Doorman, Robbie On Housekeeping, Real Calls From Real Men Meet Robbie’s Family.)
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The Pimp Award
The Pimp Award image via: hiphipwholesale
I was sitting with my date one evening and I had quickly decided the only redeeming factor that it was a few blocks from my house at a place I had always wanted to try. He was handsome in a not-my-type kind of way. I wondered how long I would have to stay without it being considered rude. He spent the first 20 minutes lecturing me about tax reform. I spent the first 20 minutes playing jax in my head. I am sure he meant well, but he was a bit rigid, and at some point told me my child must be spoiled because he goes to private school.
“Not to judge your parenting.”
“Of course not.”
I hate you.
When the waiter approached, and asked if we wanted another glass of wine I looked at my date, hoping he too wasn’t enjoying our date and he would say no. But no such luck. He suggested another round.
“Would you like some food? Are you hungry?” My date said, offering me the menu.
Maybe a bowl of soup. If you promise to drown me in it. You know, just hold my face in there. Until I stop breathing.
“No. I’m good. Thanks.”
When our second glass of wine arrived I looked up only to make eye contact with the most handsome man. He was on the other end of the restaurant. We locked eyes, and both smiled at the same time. The entire restaurant fell away and that was all I could see. But I was trapped on terror island with my date. There had to be a way to slip said handsome stranger my number. After all, people have done it to me. But how? The restaurant was tiny. There was no way. Except…one.
“I’ll be right back. I just need to use the bathroom.” I said, slipping off the bar stool and walking into the bathroom. When I got up, handsome stranger smiled at me again. My date wasn’t looking. So I smiled back.
When I got into the bathroom I quickly texted Alexis:
“Hi! Help! I am at (insert name of restaurant here) Please call the restaurant and ask to speak to the hot guy with dark hair and a black sweater who is sitting by the door with another man who is wearing a plaid shirt. Tell him your best friend is on a terrible date and give him my number. He will know who it is.”
I hit send, prayed for the best and walked out of the bathroom, back to my date.
Not two minutes later the phone on the bar lit up. I saw the bartender speaking and passed the cordless to the waitress. Her eyes grew wide, she looked around the room. I saw a lot of commotion and whispering among the manager and staff. The waitress began to walk aimlessly around the restaurant with the cordless phone.
THAT’S MY GIRL! It could have been the most genius idea I have ever had. Well, at least my most genius idea that week. I couldn’t follow the events that were unfolding as I had to follow the conversation that was going on on my actual date.
“And anyway that’s why McCain had to go with Palin as a running mate.” He said.
“Right. Of course.”
Now the entire restaurant staff was in on it. Yes, this is a terrible story, and makes me a very bad date. I realize. But I was on a bad date, so don’t I get some type of pass here?
I watched the waitress approach said stranger with the cordless phone. I see said stranger and the waitress talking. He looks up at me and smiles. He takes the phone. This was AMAZING. I watched him on the phone. I don’t know what they were talking about, but they talked for a couple of minutes. I knew Alexis was getting the whole scoop for me. His friend kept turning and looking at me. So did the table next to them. We were all smiling. My poor date had zero idea this was unfolding.
Until he said, “Those guys keep checking you out.”
“Which guys?” I said, acting completely unaware.
“Those guys. Over there.” He motioned in their direction.
Oh, that guy? You mean my next date? Oh. Yeah. Him. He’s cute isn’t he?
“I didn’t see.” Ugh, I may have been going to hell, but it was so worth it.
I get another text from Alexis.
“His name is Matias. He is from Argentina. He is going to call you.”
Finally, I was brave enough to end my date. I couldn’t really take it for another minute.
“Well, we should get going.”
“Really? Oh-”
I was kind of abrupt.
I walked him out of the restaurant and to the subway on the corner.
“It was really great meeting you.” I said and gave him a one arm hug. You know the kind. Where you add an insincere pat?
“You too.”
In the spirit of full disclosure. I may have pushed him down the stairs to get him out of there faster.
When the coast was clear and my date was safely underground, I snuck back to the restaurant. Who am I?
“Hi!” I said to the Argentinian duo who was now waiting for me at the bar. “I’m Darcy.”
“I know.” He said with a thick accent. He was even more handsome up close.
After some small chat I asked how old he was.
“25.”
Wow. That was really young. I wasn’t expecting that. It’s as though I actually reached into a cradle and pulled him out.
“I’m 36. And a mom. And too old for you.”
“You are perfect.”
It was good enough for him, and apparently tonight, good enough for me.
Matias ordered a bottle of red wine and we talked for hours. He he was sitting so close he would whisper in my ear as we spoke. And I liked it.
One of the waiters came up and whispered to me.
“You know, we have all decided you get the pimp award. We have never seen such a smooth move.”
The bartender gave me a knuckle punch. “Excellent job girl.”
I smiled. I imagined accepting my pimp award. I would like to thank Alexis, for helping make this possible. I would say as I accepted the golden cane, or was it a pimp cup? Whatever it is that pimps carry.
When we were done with our wine, we walked out into the cold night air. He held my hand. Or maybe I held his, because he was a child. And I wanted him to be careful crossing the street. We walked, we talked. I practiced my Spanish. He was polite and told me it was good. He walked me all the way to my block. He kissed me. It was the kind of kiss you want. The kind where you melt into each other and your knees get weak. I was happy.
“Do you want to come up to my apartment for a drink?” He asked.
I looked into his dark eyes. He was so handsome, unbelievably sexy…but I didn’t need to go home with him. He was a stranger. A very young one.
Matias asked me to dinner the following night. I didn’t accept. I realized, I didn’t need Matias. What I needed more was the lesson. The lesson that at any moment you can feel a spark with someone. When you least expect it. Even when you are on a bad date. With someone else.
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Eleven Missed Calls
Eleven missed calls can only mean one person...
The other day I logged onto Facebook to see a guy I dated post divorce just had a baby. He had 3 kids from his first marriage. This was his fourth. Way to hog all the children, I think to myself right before writing “Congratulations!” underneath the picture. The truth is I was happy for him. Afterall, I didn’t want to date him. But I was happy someone else did. He was super nice, super funny…but just not for me.
This is not the first person I have dated post divorce who went on to get married and have children. In fact, several people I have gone on dates with have gone on to get married. At the time, they had told me they were looking for that. I was honest when I told them I just wasn’t sure.
I would be lying if I said seeing the men I have dated, and passed on, go on to get married and have more children didn’t register on some level. I am the first to admit I don’t necessarily pick the right men to fall for (See: Mr. Wrong Right Now). Although I am getting better. Kind of?
But there was one man. One man in particular that really threw me. Are you ready? Because I was not. Yup. Robbie. Even Robbie…had a girlfriend. A real one. His facebook relationship status is now set to “In a relationship with” and has the girls actual name. Which means she agreed to the relationship and went as far as confirming it on Facebook, which as you know gives it major credibility. He had been telling me he had a girlfriend for quite some time, but I didn’t believe him. Afterall, how could it possibly be true. I thought it was a woman he paid, or locked in his basement. Maybe he was referring to his mother. (See: Meet Robbie’s Family). But the other day when I was on Facebook a picture of Robbie came up in my newsfeed. A picture of him…and his girlfriend. For the first time ever I was curious about Robbie’s life and clicked onto his actual page. There it was. Robbie was listed as being in a relationship with said girl. I…was speechless. I hadn’t been hearing from him at all. Well I had. I would see his name come up on my caller ID from time to time. But it would only happen once, I wouldn’t answer. And then he would vanish. This isn’t the Robbie we all knew. Who called me upwards of 9 times a day for a year and a half.
About a month ago he called me and I decided to answer it. I told him I was really proud of him for being in a relationship with a girl that looked, at least from the outside, completely normal. Pretty even. He told me he loved her and she was the best. I was shocked, but proud. Slightly confused, but proud.
“I make love to her Darcy.”
“That’s. Awesome.”
“She wants to marry me and have babies with me. I don’t know what to do.”
“Do it! You are a man now (huh?), and you seem to love her. And she loves you too.”
“I don’t know. I do make hot, sweet love to her.” (I will spare you the details of what he really said)
“That’s great. I am very happy for you.”
“You want be in a threesome with us?”
“What?”
“A threesome? You want in? Cause i’d like to make hot sweet love to you too.”
“No. I’m good. Thanks.”
He hung up on me, angry as always. He didn’t resurface for at least a week. Checking in, of course, to see whether or not I wanted to have a threesome. He even offered up “making sweet love” to just him.
“But don’t you have a girlfriend?”
“Fine. Goodbye.”
The calls grew more frequent. And, I can’t even believe I am going to admit this, but when I was very sick…I…called Robbie…(oh gd. Hanging my head in shame.) for medical advice. There. I said it. I know. Yikes. He was surprisingly sweet and sensitive. Checking on me regularly. Telling me that if I wanted to get better I needed to drink mass amounts of Gatorade…and masturbate. I know, I know. My own fault for asking him.
The other night I was in bed and I looked at my phone. I had eleven missed calls. That could only mean one thing. Yep. I was right. Robbie. Feeling exceptionally bored, Bear was asleep and there was nothing on TV as all my regular run of the mill trashy shows were on winter break, I called him back.
“I’m bored with fucking my girlfriend.” He said as he answered the phone.
“No. No. Don’t say that.”
“I am. I gotta fuck Darcy. Lots of women.”
“You listen to me. You somehow found a very attractive girl and tricked her into thinking you are sane. You be good to her. You understand?”
“I can’t. I can’t be with her anymore.”
“Why?”
“I just can’t. I need to be with tons of women.”
“But tons of women don’t want to be with you.”
“Darcy. I can’t. I don’t think we are sexually compatible. She doesn’t like the things I like in bed.”
Oh boy. He started to go into details of what that meant. I wanted to mute the phone, but it wouldn’t help me much, cause I would still be able to hear him.
“Robbie. Please. Trust me. You found a good girl. Who you care about. I think. Please hang in there. Maybe it will pass.”
“Do you want to date me?”
“No.”
“Fine.”
And just like that, he hung up on me. As always. But don’t worry. He called back.
If you aren’t familiar with Robbie, you MUST catch up! He is everyone’s favorite character! (See: Channeling Demi, Robbie Reunion, The Robbie Report, He’s Baaack, My Date With Robbie, Robbie.com, Hey Jealousy, A Visit From Robbie , A Diamond is Forever and So Is Robbie, Advice From My Doorman, Robbie On Housekeeping, Real Calls From Real Men Meet Robbie’s Family.)
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Can You Be Friends After a De-Friend?
Dating in a world with so many mediums is tough. If you have seen the movie He’s Just Not That Into You , you will remember the scene when Drew Barrymore is explaining that there are so many complicated ways to figure out if you are getting dissed; you have to check your email, your texts, your voicemail, your Facebook, your twitter…and it’s true.
All His Children
image via: Haines Shoe House
I once went on a date with a guy who had so many children he actually lived in a shoe. Or maybe it was a huge house in Greenwich. I forget now.
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Mildly My Type
Not me...but it could have been.
I had a date on a very very cold night in New York City. Very cold. He called me to plan it and we were discussing where to meet when I said,
“Can you believe how cold it is outside? It’s freezing.”
There was silence at the other end of the phone.
“Well. It’s not…yea. Not so bad.”
What? I lost four fingers from frost bite when I left my apartment this morning. What do you mean it’s not so bad?
I tried to push my doubt aside that we would have very little in common and got ready for my date. I was wearing so many layers. I wore two jackets, and might have even put on Bear’s snow pants. I didn’t care how I looked. I was going for warmth. I remember showing up for a date recently and when I went to get my coat from the coat rack as we were leaving, my date said to me,
“You wore a puffy coat on this date?”
“Yes. It’s freezing.”
“Then you couldn’t possibly think it was going to be good.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“Cause puffy coats aren’t sexy.”
“But they are warm.”
“I am wearing a Rag and Bone coat, and I am freezing. You know why? I wanted to look good for you.” He whined.
It’s not my fault you are the woman in this relationship.I thought, as I pulled my very warm Montcler fur hood over my head and hoofed it out of the restaurant like a clumsy Clydesdale.
But back to my date…
I was standing in the restaurant, layered in puffiness and GORE- TEX when my very tall dark and handsome date walks in his suit. No coat.
“Where’s your coat?”
“This is it.”
“It’s freezing. It’s about 20 degrees.”
“This keeps me warm.”
“Wow.” I said, as I spent the next 20 minutes peeling off layers of clothing. I may have even had glove warmers in. And a hot water bottle shoved up the back of my sweater.
“You see, I am a very positive person, I like to look at things in a very positive manner. So instead of saying “cold” which is a negative word, I like to think it’s mildly refreshing.” He explained.
“Ah. I would like to mildly de-thaw in the kitchen. Next to the oven.”
We sat down and my date began to regale me with his adventurous tales. He had actually climbed Mt. Everest. It would have probably been a bad time to tell him I am too lazy to walk up the stairs at my local Staples so I take the elevator one flight. I was impressed with all that he had accomplished. He was also working on some other crazy expedition where he was walking to the North Pole. Ten days of no sleep. Only “rest.”
“If you notice I have some scruff on my face. I usually shave everyday. But I have to grow a beard for the expedition or my face will freeze.”
“Right. Of course. Wow.” I started to picture what he would look like with a long creepy beard, “When is that?”
“April.”
“Wow. That will be quite a beard.” I had assessed he would look like a hot Osama.
“Yea. It has to be.”
Right now, with only the scruff he looked cute.
The thing is, I was impressed by his incredible motivation and his insatiable lust for accomplishment.
We ordered a bottle of wine and a couple of dishes. We were sharing stories about our background, our upbringing, our hobbies. Even though he was amazing, incredibly sweet and very accomplished, I could just tell we weren’t going to be a good personality match. But the dinner was lovely and I was enjoying his company.
“Hey, you are a writer, you will appreciate this story.”
I nodded, excited for what was to come next. It was a 45 minute story involving the writings of a priest. And something about a goat. I can’t say for sure since I feel asleep half way through the story. I had a dream that I got into a taxi that was driving by outside the window. I guess it was more like a nightmare, because I knew it wasn’t real. In reality he had just ordered another bottle of wine.
Help. A tiny voice cried from within. I’m trapped.
He was trying and seemed like a really good guy. When all of a sudden he said it. Out loud. I don’t recall what we were talking about, but I heard it clear as day.
“I don’t have a television.”
I literally heard the music in the restaurant screech to a halt. At that moment, the date was over. RIP this date.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I don’t have that much time. And the time I do have, I’d rather be doing something more important than watching TV.”
Ah. So we didn’t agree that the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills are important. I see. Well, we tried. We did our best. We sat through this lovely dinner and you are handsome, and incredibly kind. Obviously well read and very very good at your job. But I am trashy. I love reality TV. And like InTouch magazine. A lot.
When it was time for dessert, he asked if I had a sweet tooth.
“Yes.” I said. Figuring he didn’t. I don’t think any of my dates had ever preferred dessert.
“Me too. What would you like for dessert?”
“Hmmmm.” I said, looking over the menu, planning my attack.
“How about we get one of each?”
In that moment. In that single, solitary moment, he went from guy that doesn’t have a TV, to the best date ever. One of each? One of each? He loved desert as much as I did. Maybe we could love each other.
Like two bulimic sorority girls on a binge, we sat and downed one of each.
After the meal, the very dessert heavy meal, I suited back up in my winter gear and we walked out into the mildly refreshing night. No. I can’t. It was still fucking freezing. Is that not positive? Oh well. It’s true.
“Good luck with all of your adventures.” I said as I watched him freeze in nothing but a suit.
“Why good luck? Aren’t I going to see you again? I had a great time.”
“Oh. Yeah. Yes. I guess so. Sure.”
The truth is, I wasn’t sure. Well…I was. But for now, I didn’t have it in me to say no. He was a nice guy. Very sweet and meant well. When he followed up and asked me for another date, and I told him the truth. I didn’t see it being a match. And I love TV too much.
(Note from me): It has been a very long time since I have written about one of my dates. I have to say, I have softened a bit and feel bad writing about this guy. He was super nice, a perfect gentleman, and a true hopeless romantic. Someone will be lucky to have him. Really, truly.
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General Hospital
Nothing sexier than Uggs with hospital garb
I was sick. Really sick. I had a virus. The flu. Whatever it was, I was ill. So ill in fact, I needed to go into the hospital to get rehydrated. (Yes, I mentioned this in my previous entry, but I figured I could continue writing about it. Hope you don’t mind.)
I was lying in a bed in the ER, an IV of fluid dangling from my arm, my hair tied into one gigantic rats nest and I may have been any number of shades of green. My mother stood by my side nervously.
The Doctor on call spoke to me for a bit about my symptoms and ordered a few tests. When he walked away my mother asked me,
“Why didn’t you ask him if he knew anyone?”
“What?” I said, barely able to respond.
“Like any single friends for you?”
“I did.”
“I didn’t hear you.”
“That’s because of course I didn’t. I am lying here looking the worst I have looked in I don’t know long. He was asking me how many times I vomited over the past 24 hours and I had to describe what it looked like. Should I have thrown in I also like Pearl Jam, long walks on the beach, and candle-lit dinners?”
She laughed. “Well, you never know.”
“Do you think there was any shot he was going to run home to his friends and say I saw the hottest chick today. She was listless. She almost threw up on me. I don’t know that she has showered for days. Don’t miss out on this incredible opportunity.”
Beat.
“Come on Mom. Really?”
She laughed. We both did. Hysterically. But out of the corner of my eye I saw her trolling the emergency room for other single doctors.
When I got home that night she stayed in my apartment to help me out. I was awoken at 6 am to a very faint sound. It sounded like paper. Being ripped. Slowly. Wait. That sound was…familiar. But no, it couldn’t be. But it had to be.
“Mom? Are you opening my mail?” I called from my bed.
“I am organizing it.” She called back from the living room.
Crickets.
Mom, I know you are reading this. Thanks for everything! Thanks for helping me out and being the best mother ever. And of course, giving me the best material!
More on my mom? She is one of everyone’s favorite characters! See: Real Texts From My Mom, As Long As You’re Happy, My Mom The Stalker, Matchmaker, Matchmaker, Make Me A Match…That is Alive, My Mother, My Pimp, Sugar and Spice and All Things Technological, Moving and Shaking, Driving with My Mom.
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Having What It Takes
The Truth
One of the reasons I married my ex-husband is because I saw how he took care of his mother when she was sick. He not only quit his first major job out of college to move to the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota with her for three months to take care of her (he was an only child, and she was a single mom) , but he visited her every single day in the hospital for nearly a year until the day she died. That’s when I decided he was a good man and had what it took to be a good husband. It was exactly what I would have done for one of my parents had they fallen ill. And it’s exactly what I did for my father 11 years later when he was diagnosed suddenly with stage 4 Pancreatic cancer. When I sat with my father for the 6 months of his courageous battle I realized it’s not what you had, but it’s who you had by your side.
I had been broken up with Colby (See: Yankees Vs. Red Sox) for nearly two years when my father died. But he was by my side every step of the way. I knew that Colby loved me. Real, real, deep love. The kind that Nicholas Sparks books are made of. Colby rode in the car with me to my father’s grave after his funeral. He didn’t say a word but I knew he was there for me and I felt totally comfortable falling apart, as I knew he would be there to catch me. When the service was finished, there is a Jewish tradition, where each person has the opportunity to shovel dirt onto the grave. Helping fill the grave means you have left nothing undone and it is the ultimate final respect for the deceased. After everyone had their turn I looked over at the men who worked in the cemetery who would have the job of filling the grave when we left.
Then I looked at Colby.
“I want you to do it.” I said, through my tears.
“Do what?”
“Fill the grave. I don’t want strangers to do it.”
I knew Colby could handle it. All 6’4″ of him. Colby said nothing. He was standing there in 98 degree weather at the end of June in a dark suit and began to cover my fathers coffin. I looked on believing that Colby was a superhero. He could do anything. And would for me. I felt much better knowing that my dad would be covered with care.
Over Christmas I was sick. I had a virus to end all viruses. I had to go to the ER to get re-hydrated and I spent days in bed vomiting. And guess who showed up to help me? Leo. (See: Deal Breakers & Songs About Darcy ) Not surprising. We had always remained friends and as far as I am concerned, he was always the ultimate mensch (if you aren’t familiar with Yiddish it means “a person of integrity and honor” thank you Wikipedia). When he checked in for the holidays and heard I was sick he insisted he come right over and take care of me. I didn’t even have to ask. I hadn’t dated Leo in 9 months, yet I could still count on him. He knew I was alone. Bear was on vacation with his dad, my mom had put in overtime and needed some sleep before she was to leave for her own trip, and I…was alone. Really sick, and alone. I couldn’t even get up to walk to the kitchen. By the fifth day, I had a fever. A high one. And I was scared. Leo wanted to help and wouldn’t take no for an answer. He came with flowers, two kinds of soup, and a ton of Gatorade. He sat with me and for the first time in two days I was able to eat. He even assembled a Chanukah present I got Bear and he walked my dog in the freezing cold. When he came back, seeing that I had eaten he asked if I wanted anything else.
“A brownie maybe?” I think it’s the first time in days I had asked for food.
Guess what he did? He went back out into the cold and got me a brownie. He even sat though two hours, two different states of the real housewives, a show he can barely stand. He left when I was falling asleep. My fever was breaking and I was ready for bed. Like a gentleman, he left and checked on me periodically through the evening and late into the next week, stopping by a few days later to bring me even more food, making sure I was getting enough.
“I can’t believe you would do all of this for me.”
“Of course I would. I care so much about you. I would never want you to be so sick alone.”
Last year in my New Years Entry (See: Auld Lang Syne) I asked the question: Should old acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind? I had an answer then, and I have the same answer today. No, old acquaintances should not be forgot. Without old acquaintances, without the lessons people have taught you along the way, you would not be who you are today. I have had men set the bar incredibly low, but today, I am measuring the standard to those who have set it incredibly high. Because that is what we all deserve.
I do not know what this New Year brings but this is what I do know: Surround yourself with people who have your back. With people like that in your life, you can do anything, because you know they are right behind you to catch you if you fall. And there may be times you fall. But feeling safe to take the risk is half the battle.
I don’t know who I will date in 2012, but I do know this: They better be by my bedside if I get sick or by my side if I need them there. I want someone I can rely on. Someone to take care of me when I need the help. And someone I can count on. The same way they would be able to count on me. I don’t want a guy. I want a man. Someone who will fight to the death in the gauntlet for me if the need should arise, just as I would for them.
When the going get tough, the weak get going. But the strong…they stay by your side.
Wishing you all love, light and all the best in 2012.
Darcy
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