Lyn Miller LaCoursiere and the Lindy Lewis Adventures

A Winter of Resolutions or "Where is that Man?" (a light parody or satire)

The Winter of Resolutions or "Where is that Man?" (a light parody or satire) In my pursuit I worry though, if I find him would I remember how to share? Would I want to share? Knowing myself I’d probably give him a small corner in my closets for his things, with strict orders not to expect to place his trinkets around on my tables and in my cupboards. Then too, I would expect him to have a lot of hobbies and not plan on spending all day on my couch, interfering with the décor. Is there someone who will understand the encumbrances I carry around? Living solos has its advantages: first of all I can cook only if I want. After years of meal planning, if I want to eat out of cartons or bake a casserole. It’s an option I celebrate with glee. If I want to clean, I can every day. If I want to be messy I can live with that and then do a monstrous overhaul when I’m in the mood. Could this man understand that if I get bored with a certain day I just might pile into bed early and hibernate with my books? Would he welcome me back, if on the spur of the moment I packed a bag, got in my car or on a plane and crossed the country? He can’t be old. Has to be in good enough physical health to roguishly pursue a sexual encounter, not just in his mind, but in reality. He has to look dashing in jeans. Shine his shoes. How many social events and classes should I participate in? I’ve thought about getting a job in a men’s store, but do I have enough stamina to wear those high heels again every day? He must be well informed about worldly events. Then again, I’d have to buy and study the newspaper, and study the problems of the world. He should be curious about my thoughts and actions. Not jealous of my endeavors. So why doesn’t he send me a cocktail while I’m sitting alone with a book in a restaurant? A dessert, when I’m in a coffee shop. Why doesn’t he approach me while I’m in a book store, or dressed to the nines pushing a grocery cart? Have I missed something? A signal or some sign I should be wearing or using to send that message that I’m single and looking? But you know if I married again, I’d have to buy an alarm clock, get up early in the mornings to make myself presentable and sexy, and not sit around in my nightgown for hours with my coffee. Probably, even an apron for those hours in the kitchen! Would we have to take separate vacation to reclaim some space? Would it all fulfill the emptiness in my soul? So, where is that man I ask? Well, maybe he feels like I sometimes do, and just sits around making those lists and daydreaming. Lyn Miller Lacoursiere (ca. years ago)