Last night, ahhh, romance hit. A meal of buffalo mozzarella, fresh tomato, calamari, Limóncello, espresso, a dessert of Tiramisu, and, for the first time, a taste of Bellini and a bird’s-eye view of Grand Central at rush hour. This is the life.
I sat there on the third date with the Ivy League guy… much older, dapper, knows the definition of seersucker. I feel like an idiot half the time because the new man actually knows the history of the Campbell Apartment in Grand Central, and knows how to pronounce espresso properly, and what a quirky sense of humor he has, too.
We both enjoy snacking on foods, rather than having entire meals, so in many ways we are perfect for each other. We are official grazers, and the new man jokes, “Us and the director Brian Grazer.” I burst into laughter and spit up the water that I had been drinking. It’s funny how I feel so much better dealing with men, so much more confident after the pseudo-boyfriend experience. Every man so far has been a breeze compared to the mystery man. I’ve been trained to deal with someone very difficult, so in many ways this is wonderful.
I still fear getting close to people, but I also feel a lot more trusting. I don’t mind holding hands or letting someone kiss me. Three years ago, I would have turned my cheek and shoulder the other way, fearing that others would see the real me. Three years later, I was sitting at the balustrade at Grand Central enjoying Pinot Grigio and calamari. Life doesn’t get better than this. Not bad, I thought.
At the same time, I’ve been trying hard to unravel the roots of ADHD. I’m all signed up to be a guinea pig in a new study at the same hospital where the first guinea pig group met. I’m supposed to take an IQ test, probably piece together some puzzles again, and some researcher will sit there, scrawling notes on why ADHD adults can’t piece together puzzles. Well I’ve never been good at Scrabble or Tetris.
I’m not sure why I agreed to participate in another study again, only to think that in reaching out and participating, I have hope that someday I will find the answers. Since the pseudo boyfriend left for overseas, I’ve been on a search for answers.
I’m all set to meet with the new shrink lady again this Friday, but somehow I wonder how much she understands ADHD. She seemed quizzical a week ago when I was 10 minutes late. (Gee, why would a woman with ADHD be late?) She asked me if we should keep this appointment time given that I seemed like such a busy lady, that I seemed all over the board.
Lately, it’s been a bit like that with the dating escapades, too. I’m juggling three men at the same time. It’s insane, perhaps a very ADHD way to date, but heck, for now it works.
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