Promises, kept? 

We've all made promises and most of us, am sure have tried to keep most promises made.  Wink, wink but legit!

Now we are immediately deleting college in terms of the endless lies you told your parents about who you were with and what you were doing and yes, whose pot was that in the car? Do you remember how it was never yours?
It was a never ending arc.

The promises about which I am speaking are promises made in this century and relatively recently. Now, how does this in any way have anything to do with dating? Stick with me, am getting there.

I've already discussed that I have never been a great dater and have  never put my shoulder to the wheel, so to speak about making the search for a significant other a serious, real job and putting in the effort required to do same. I also made snarky comments about how such and such buffalo found such a nice guy. Nasty much and maybe it was because this woman made the effort I had refused to do.

###shoulder to the wheel? what is this 1945? It came to me as it indicates a heruclean effort and for me, sitting on the sites and looking and looking is a huge effort. Alright, not huge but you get  my meaning. And I am not even talking about the actual "dating".

Anyway, the standard yuck in my family was that my father, who was very, very old was never going to die.
When i say very old, am talking about over 100. Now why wasn't he going to die? It wasn't just because my brother and I were really children and never wanted him to go. We knew we had gotten a bonus round and were forever grateful.

The real deal that was bandied about in family circles was that he was waiting to die until he considered me "settled". Okay, old fashioned but hell, the guy was born when Brooklyn was a prairie. πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚

Over the course of several years, he and I had many and I mean MANY discussions about how he didn't like my life because I wasn't settled. What does settled mean? To me it means what happens to the foundation of a house as it ages. To him, it meant that I would have a man in my life who would "take care of me". OY.

Repeatedly, I would tell him that I was FINE and I didn't need taking care of. That statement was met with a look somewhere between disdain and disgust.
That he didn't realize nor did he care that he was basically invalidating my lifestyle didn't mean much to him. Why should it? He wanted what he wanted.

Not long after I got divorced, he called me into his room because he had something to discuss. I had no idea what fresh hell awaited me but in I went into bedroom hell. What went on was probably the most inappropriate conversation I have ever had with anyone and made even worse because this one was with my father. His idea was that I find an "old" man, who had no heirs so there would be no forensic accounting and marry him. I sat there rapt trying not to gag and listened. The kicker was I was supposed to marry this "oldster”, 20 years my senior, ugh and then kill him.

NO, he was not advocating murder. Oh no, he was advocating that I go to "bed with him" his expression and kill him. Ok, if anyone reading this has anything in their mouths, you have just spit it out. Picture what I felt. Murder by sex. VERY NICE/NOT!!!

It's pretty hard to silence me but he succeeded which really irritated him as he wanted to "discuss". Now, i knew that we had driven passed appropriate discourse between  an adult child and her parent so I figured, what the hell, I'll engage.

"So dad, what you're advocating for your only daughter to do is something that makes her want to hurl. You're asking me to go to bed with an old man and I just cannot do that." OMG, this was not the rejoinder he wanted. He glared at me and told me that in the dark, "it's all the same". HOLY SHIZZ!!!

I walked out and we never had this conversation ever again. Across the years, I paraded several boyfriends  before him for his "approval". There were a few very nice gentleman. He hated them all. Of course, he did. Actually, he liked one, sort of.  Big woop!

Anyway, segue forward to 2017. By now, dear dad was 102 1/2. Apparently, after the age of 100, one counts half years like you  do at the beginning of life. Early last April,  I got a call from my sister-in-law that my father was slipping away and that I should come to say goodbye.

Of course, I grabbed my youngest daughter and ran out to the island. All kinds of things swirled through my mind as we sat on the LIRR. We got to the nursing home and it was very peaceful and not scary. My daughter couldn't do the goodbye routine but I felt compelled and wanted to do same.

In my family, there is always humor to be found even in times like this. I sat down and started kibbitzing like a female version of henny youngman. He was "asleep" but I felt and know that he heard me. I did thank him for loving me and caring for my brother and me but then i went back to shtick.  I was choking up and it was too real so dipped back into jokester mode.

EUREKA!!! I'm going to tell him that I'm "settled". A little disconcerting to be lying to a dying person but hell, maybe he would feel that he could finally go. I said all the things that I knew he would like about  being settled and it was alright to drop his vigilant watch over me as I was OK. Then I kissed him goodbye, told him that I loved him and left.

What struck me was HOLY SHIT, I just lied to my dying father and if Jews believed in hell I was going to be fast tracked there.
He died several hours later. Segue passed the roast that passed for a funeral and I  was stuck with and couldn't shake that I lied to him but I did do it for his "own good". But holy hell, I better make this happen, otherwise, not only would I ultimately go to hell but he would haunt me. DOUBLE HEADER!!!!

 I was going to finally take this search seriously and put my well known single mindedness of purpose to finding Mr. Settled. Just kidding, Mr. Right. 

Believe it or not, it was a good motivator. I actually checked my emails, swipes whatevers not every other week but at least once daily.I have actually liked and dated some very nice, totally appropriate but also,  fun men. Yay, me. Nothing has stuck as of yet, but I  have definitely stepped up my game.

Try it, you might like it. Of course, do skip the dying parent part as an incentive.

Takeaway: this was the kick in the ass that I needed and for the thousandth time in my life, I have my father to thank. Thank you, dad!πŸ’™πŸ’™


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