Who Wants to Salsa?

On Friday night, I went out to drinks and dinner with some new colleagues.  They were all joined by their significant others, and, as usual, I was the single gal.

It was pleasant to meet the couples and just be out enjoying some beer and pizzas with the ALCS game in the background.  However, as dinner was winding down, it was about 9:30, and despite a long, rather trying research day in which none of my experiments worked, I wanted to go out.

One of the couples mentioned they had some really good salsa at home that they wanted to eat while watching the game.

Umm...this blew my mind.  I was actually thinking about a different kind of salsa.  You know, the kind where you sway your hips to great music, at a club.

I have to say, at that moment, I was so grateful to be single. 

Why am I trying to pledge the most boring sorority on earth?  As a single gal, every day is an incredible opportunity wrapped up as a special gift.  It's a chance to be utterly selfish.  To do what I want, when I want to, in the manner that makes me happiest.  To live life on my own terms.  No boring Friday nights at home eating salsa, unless I choose that as my fate.

I was definitely in a funk this week, and actually in the last couple weeks, as you may have noticed from the paucity of posts and especially the lack of dates. This is about the one year anniversary of the beginning of the end between me and Make-Up/Break-Up.  I've essentially been single for a full year now, and I hate the fact that I was feeling a bit down about it all last week. 

But...

On Friday night, I realized that I currently have a freedom that is unlikely to be replicated at any point in the future.  Between a research year, friends new and old, and a fabulous new city to explore, it's time to really enjoy this, not resent it.  I think with this realization, I have finally, thankfully put the ghost of Make-Up/Break-Up to rest.

So ladies, I hate to cut this short, but I've got a life to be living right now. 

Who wants to salsa?

Perfect Day

Yes, that's not a mistake.  The title of this post is "day," not "date!"

At a certain point in training, you start to realize that you will soon get a "real job."  Between those words lie the emotions of exhilaration and sheer panic.

As a physician, I'm realizing I have more options than I know what to do with.  Private practice or academic?  Group or individual practice?  Research?  Clinical or basic science or translational?  Prospective or retrospective?  Teaching?  Where?  How?  At what salary?  At what hours?

I feel like my brain is going to explode just thinking about it.  But...I have to think about it.  It's getting to be that time!

I recently read a book about financial planning geared towards women called The Smart Cookie's Guide to Making More Dough.  As an aside, I loved this book and highly recommend it.

An exercise in the book asks you to describe your "perfect day."  Literally, pick up your pen, laptop, whatever, and from start to finish, what does a perfect day look like?  Or, what would be your perfect life?

I was reading this as I was on my way to Key West for a dear friend's destination wedding.  This incredible woman, one of the most amazing nurses I have ever known, has achieved her perfect day in the past couple years.  She got a Master's degree, got her dream job, and now was marrying the love of her life.  She earned her perfect day is is living it.  I couldn't have been happier for her after so many late nights on the wards, talking about the many challenges we both faced.

Now, as I sit on the brink of my own future, I wonder what the hell I actually want out of my life.  During residency, I was in survival mode--one day to the next till it's done.  Now, in the research portion of my fellowship, I am well-rested, able to think clearly, and in a place where I am expanding my mind professionally and personally.  For once in my otherwise driven and goal-directed life, I feel like I have no idea what I actually want to do.

Ultimately, I need to sit down over the course of several months, and really think about what my perfect day actually consists of.  And then, to be utterly cliche, go for it!

Arranged Dating Part Deux: The Infamous Date Itself

I feel like there's been a lot of build-up for Arranged Dating Guy.  For the past six weeks, between my parents (well, my dad), the blog, the Brain Trust, and even myself, there's been a lot of speculation.

You all know how disastrous our first conversations were--at least from my perspective.  You all know how the recent dates have gone--a series of hits and mostly misses.

Despite all of this, I couldn't help but wonder whether I was going to meet my future husband on Wednesday night.  It added an air of excitement, anticipation, and gut-wrenching fear to the evening.  If I wanted to get married in the next one year, all I had to do was say the word after this meeting.

I had made reservations for dinner at a local hot spot that I have been wanting to try.  As I got ready for the date, I tried to maintain some perspective and keep an open mind as the Brain Trust recommended.  I put some effort into my appearance (I bought a dress), and wondered whether it would be love or dislike at first sight.

As I tottered my way to the restaurant in precariously tall heels (yeah, I went all out), I found Arranged Dating Guy waiting in the entry.

Immediately, in spite of all my openness and perspective, I knew this date was doomed.

Perhaps I'm being too picky...but gentlemen, a bit of advice.  If you're meeting a potential future wife at a local hot spot, jeans and a T-shirt will not suffice.  Please.  At least pretend like you're trying!

We sat down to dinner, perused the menu, ordered drinks (well, I ordered a drink--he doesn't drink), and started talking.  In the two hours we spent together, it was apparent that we had nothing in common.  He doesn't read, I do.  He doesn't like exploring the world, I do.  He hates big cities, I love them.  The list could go on and on.

At the end of the date,  I asked him to put his cards on the table.  What were his intentions here?

He stated (in checklist form) that he had completed his education, residency, fellowship, and was in a stable private practice job.  It was time to get married and have kids.  He stated he wanted to get married within the next year.  He didn't want to move to my city, but preferred to have a long-distance relationship until I could join him.

Though it may sound shocking, it was all what I expected.  I thanked him for his time and sent him on his way.  I don't want to do long distance--especially after everything that happened with Make-up/Break-up.  Nor do I want to be an action item on someone's checklist.  No matter how good the action is.  It all felt like a job interview and a business arrangement.  Not like love.

I have to say I went through a bit of withdrawal after the date.  I had ended things with Older Guy, Saxophone Guy, and now the Arranged Date was over.  Tabula rasa.  Back to inner game, exploring the world, and perhaps running into love along the way...