Crack Me Open and Fry Me

"Any men in your life?" asks my mother hopefully on a Saturday afternoon phone call. I know she'd like to see me married or at least in a serious relationship as soon as possible in order to get a grandchild as soon as possible.

She also wants me to go to law school, pass the bar and make partner in a practice back east. When I explain to her that I am an actress (for the umpteen millionth time; I mean she says she's seen my movies,) and I have no interest in lawyering even if I could get into law school. She responds with, "Well Shari-la, you could do anything you can set your mind to."

I wonder if that's true, then why am I sitting at home on a Saturday night writing this blog? I would much rather be out with some fabulous guy who finds me endlessly amusing and sexy and compliments my eyes.

My dog just looks at me like, "Whatever, Mommy, it's you and me and I'm cool with that. Can I have some chicken?"

Thank God for her. Total acceptance as long as she has some meat.

I am no longer embarrassed to admit that yes, I want a relationship that will lead to life partnership. I want to get, how you say in English... engaged... shit; OK, I'll just say it: married.

Whew.

The last man... correction: boy I met where I thought there was extreme relationship potential pulled a severe Houdini on me and disappeared in a cloud of smoke, not even a PHONE CALL or E-MAIL after six weeks of hours and hours of conversation, making out, getting to know each other and me not giving it up before I was sure he was worthy and INTO this... for once. He reassured me that he wasn't just wanting to get into my pants and that, I quote: " I just wanted to hold you for three days and not leave your bed. I hope that gives you some perspective, Shari."

Douchebag.

Whatever. I'm fine.

What was painful about this disappearance was the mystery of it all. The not knowing was sheer torture. Where did he go? Was he kidnapped by gypsies? Was he in a major accident and bleeding in a hospital somewhere? Was he married? I checked his MySpace and much to my chagrin, no alien abduction had occurred. He had logged on that morning.

Just fucking call me, dude. You're 33. Who does this to people anymore? On the phone his last words to me were about e-mailing a photo of the beach we went to on the best date of my life. All that was missing were the animated hearts bursting open because they couldn't hold all the love in their bright shiny little red heart bodies. I'm talkin' we didn't even want to EAT! And for me, that's unheard of.

We even saw a baby hummingbird. That' s right. A BABY Hummingbird. When the hell does THAT happen? Perhaps I am waxing too romantic or nostalgic about something that never really existed? Maybe I imbued him with all the qualities I wanted him to have? Maybe he only wore the disguise of being ready and wanting to be a boyfriend?

All I know is that for the six weeks we were bonding, I'd be driving down the 101 and burst into tears of joy at the beauty of the sun setting. I had so much love in my heart it poured out my eyes anytime I saw something that touched it, even lightly.

I do thank him for cracking open and starting to peel away some residual eggshell skin I have surrounding my most vital of organs. I do strive for a full and open heart always and not just when endorphins are rushing to my brain from falling in love or eating a really good piece of chocolate cake. I have reached that level of joy sometimes while acting, or in my meditation practice. Carrying it out into the world has proved to be a bit more challenging. After all, it is a "practice" not a "perfect".

Duh.

I am handling all this with much more grace and ease than I would have even last year. So that's progress.

I am grateful to this masked magician who came in and showed me I can allow myself to be my full self, have it not work out the way I want and still... have my full self.

Much like finding the perfect pair of jeans that make you look five pounds thinner, you can't go looking for it. It's gotta find you. You just have to be open to trying on a bunch to know when it's a perfect fit.

I pour myself a glass of Shiraz and just go to LOOK on J-date.