Tag Archives: Kathy Anne

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Dating apps: cesspool

The world is full of heartwarming stories about people who meet via dating apps, they develop relationships and then live happily ever after.

I have told you about my return to the world of social interaction since I lost my dear bride to cancer at the start of this year. Kathy Anne insisted I find happiness, but she made her feelings known long before the advent of the Internet, let alone these dating apps that have grown so popular.

What she couldn’t possibly know is that many of them have become cesspools, breeding grounds for individuals looking for victims on which to prey. How do I know that? I was targeted by one of those predators. My sons were able to sleuth around and discovered her bag of tricks; I confronted her … and poof! — she was gone.

This is my way of saying that I am likely to continue a more traditional path on my journey back to social interaction. It’s a much safer bet to just go out and, um …. meet people! I have joined a church in McKinney. I am meeting plenty of folks through my daily travels along my still-boring life.

I think Kathy Anne most surely would approve of my decision. She didn’t trust the Internet more than most reasonable human beings. Indeed, she was implicitly skeptical of strangers until they could prove to her that they were the real deal. Me? I tend to see the best in people until they demonstrate their evil intent.

I have learned a lot about dating apps, however.  I have learned to steer away from those who present pictures of people who are far from the age of the person who posts them. I also have detected certain language constraints from those wishing to “chat away from here.”

Most importantly, there’s a certain sameness — “How’s your day going?” — to the way many of these so-called women introduce themselves. I say “so-called” because I do fear the prospect that they could be some toothless biker chick or worse … some hairy-backed knuckle dragger.

This single life is a new thing for me. I am learning my way. The good news? I have some great family help who has my back.

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Fall/winter ‘flora’ returns!

My memory at times fails me, particularly when I try to recall events in my life … such as when I began growing a fall/winter beard.

I started it again this year a few days before the start of autumn. The autumnal equinox came and went a few days ago and my beard already was in full — or nearly full — swing.

It will remain on my puss until the first day of spring, sometime in March.

I’ve been known to cheat on growing the thing and then shaving it off. My dear wife disliked it when I was late starting in the fall, and  she damn sure really didn’t like it when I shaved it off before the vernal equinox.

But she got over it and liked me just the same — with or without the facial flora. At least that’s what she told me.

It gets saltier each year I grow it, meaning it contains far more “salt’ than “pepper” these days.

The mustache? I started that thing when I was still in the Army. I believe it began sprouting in July 1970. I kept it for 10 years before I shaved it off in a fit of stupidity. I recall coming out of the bathroom sans ‘stashe. My sons took a look at me and started laughing. They never had seen Dad without facial hair. They kept laughing until two or three days later I decided “it’s coming back.”

Fifty-three years later, it’s still there, now accompanied by the beard that makes me proud.

As a former colleague and friend of mine, the late Claude Duncan, once told me: “You may have your share of shortcomings, but growing hair isn’t one of them.”

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Journey nearing its end

My journey through the darkness has found sufficient light for me to declare that I believe it is nearing its end.

Does that mean the destination is near, that I have no more distance to travel before I can declare my life has been (more or less) restored since the passing of the only woman I’ve ever loved with all my heart?

It means only that I can see much more clearly these days, that I can profess openly that I am ready for a relationship if the right one were to present itself. I don’t mean to sound coy or cagey. I only mean to tell you the obvious, which is that my heart is likely to remain permanently damaged and that I am learning the complexities of dealing with the pain.

Kathy Anne’s brief but savage fight with glioblastoma at the beginning of this horrible year will remain with me for the rest of my life on Earth. She had six weeks from her diagnosis to the end. The oncologist who was scheduled to treat her called her form of cancer “the most aggressive” he ever has seen.

That was then. The here and now puts me in a position to start to move on, to commence with the rest of my life. My beautiful bride, Kathy Anne, was 71 when she passed. I am almost 74. She was in good health until, well, she wasn’t. I am in reasonably good health … at this moment. The events of this year have taught me the bitterest of lessons. One of them is that at my age, health can turn from blessing to curse in rapid fashion.

I am not going to sit around, awaiting the outcome I know awaits all of us. I intend to live, just as Kathy Anne insisted I do back when we both were young and had a long life ahead of us.

There will be more tales to tell about my journey as it progresses into the blinding light of the living. I’m not there yet.

But, damn … I believe it’s getting closer!

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Expect the unexpected

Life can teach us lessons we never learn in a classroom, as I am discovering as I take baby steps toward re-entering the “dating” marketplace.

One of them is that today’s world of high-tech Internet manipulation bears no resemblance to the Dark Ages, which was the last time I was an active participant in the worldwide “dating game.”

A word to the wise, therefore, is in order: Do not take a single word of flattery that comes to you from someone you’ve never met seriously. Be cautious, be careful, be suspicious until you can ascertain whether the “contact” you have made is legit.

I posted an item on High Plains Blogger that declared my intention to return to the social world known as the “dating environment.” I am still heading on that portion of this journey I have been on since the passing of my dear bride, Kathy Anne, to cancer.

I have known a couple of things about myself all along. One is that I haven’t “dated” anyone — other than my wife — for more than 50 years. I’ll just say it out loud: I am rusty. I never was a “ladies man,” even when I was much younger and full of those juices that make young men take off in hot pursuit. Thus, I was painfully shy around women.

It’s a new world out there, I am learning. It is fraught with peril. Oh, for a simpler life … except that era is gone forever.

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Following bride’s advice

My late bride once informed me — and I don’t recall the precise time or even the context of the conversation — that she didn’t want me to grieve forever if she left this Earth before I did.

“I want you to be happy,” Kathy Anne told me with a note of sternness in her voice. “If you find someone, then you should pursue that relationship,” she added. My response was similar, but not identical. I believe I answered with, “I want the same for you sweetie, but to be honest the thought of you being ‘with’ another man would drive me out of my mind.”

Well, Kathy Anne did leave this world first. I believe I am ready, though, to follow her instruction about finding happiness.

This journey I’ve been on since the worst day of my life likely will never end. The journey has been dark and at times full of sadness. Until just recently. It has brightened a bit largely because my own head has cleared and I am able to actually think about where I want to be in, say, three to five years.

I do not intend to move from Princeton, Texas. This will remain my forever home, as it belonged to Kathy Anne and me and served to be our base of operations while we visited our granddaughter, her parents and while we traveled throughout this great big, gorgeous country of ours. I’m still able to all of that, although the travel plans have changed a bit; but I am making that work, too.

As for future companionship, well, I will let that play out in due course. I have advised my sons — and any young man willing to listen to this advice — against “looking for the girl of your dreams. She will just show up.” It happened to one of my sons, and it damn sure happened to me. My other son will find that individual, I am sure, one day.

So will I. Thus, I am declaring that I won’t resist the tug into a new relationship when it starts to pull. But whoever comes along will need to understand the nature of the huge hole that remains in my permanently damaged heart.

If she has taken steps along a journey of her own, I am certain that she’ll get it.

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Toby has ‘issues’

More than a few readers of this blog have inquired over the years about the pooch whose face you see here. He is Toby the Puppy and he is my constant companion.

Well … I have some news to report about my Puppy. He is going to undergo aggressive treatment for cancer. That’s all the bad news I have. I have plenty of good news to report regarding my furry pal.

The illness is contained in one spot. He is showing zero signs of discomfort. Toby the Puppy continues to exhibit a voracious appetite and his thirst is virtually unquenchable … meaning that he’s drinking a lot of water.

That’s all very good news, according to the board certified veterinary oncologist who saw him today.

What’s next will be determined in the next day or two. He’s going to get a CT scan. The doc asked me to take him back to spend the day so she and her staff can collect a generous urine sample.

I want to share this news with you only because so many readers of this blog have seemingly enjoyed reading about his travels with my bride and me. We have taken him all over this great land and through half of Canada. He’s seen all of it and enjoyed along with his parents.

We, of course, lost my bride — Kathy Anne — in February. Toby the Puppy has stepped up to fulfill the role that falls on those of his species. He has become this “man’s best friend.” 

The doctor isn’t making any promises on the treatment and whether it will rid him of the disease. She is optimistic, though, that the aggressive path she intends to pursue will produce positive results. “We absolutely can control this thing,” she told my son and me today.

And I have made it abundantly clear — several times, in fact — that I want her to deploy any method she feels is possible to control it and, hopefully, to get rid of it.

Toby the Puppy is a trooper of the first order. He is my champion.

 

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Next trek delayed

For those who have any sort of interest in my travels and my recovery from the passing of my beloved Kathy Anne, this brief blog post is for you.

I had planned on shoving off soon for points west with Toby the Puppy. That excursion has been delayed. Not by any sort of emotional meltdown on my part. No, it has to do with Toby the Puppy.

He needs a bit of medical attention. Toby has been suffering from a urinary tract infection that we cannot shake. He’s feeling fine. His appetite is good. He’s drinking lots of water. He’s full of vim and vigor.

In other words, he’s his usual hysterical self. Our veterinarian in Princeton, though, referred Toby to a diagnostic clinic in Plano. So … he checks in tomorrow for a through going-over. The clinic has the resources and the equipment required to look at him carefully.

We’re going to get to the root of this UTI, going to fix it.

Then … we’ll hit the road. That’s the latest.

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Lots written already … more to come

Sometimes I am motivated by forces I cannot understand, let alone explain … such as the force this afternoon that pushed me into looking into the volume of blog posts I have published about the loss of my bride to cancer.

I looked at the archive and noticed that, well, holy crap, I have written a lot about this journey I am on.

Here’s the link that would give you an idea of what I’ve written already about Kathy Anne:

Search Results for “Kathy Anne” – High Plains Blogger (wordpress.com)

Now comes a question I have asked myself: When am I going to give it a rest? My answer is simple. Not any time soon.

I am motivated partly by selfish concerns. One of them is that writing about my bride is cathartic, therapeutic and even a bit comforting. We all need comfort, therapy and catharsis when circumstances compel them, right?

The worst day of my life is fading farther into the past. I get that I shouldn’t wallow in the intense pain that overwhelmed my family and me in the moment. I truly am not wallowing in it. As a matter of fact, I am actually getting past much of the pain as time goes by.

I also know that I am not alone in this grief. What we are feeling in this moment is very much like what billions of other families have endured since the beginning of time. They got through it. So will we.

However, my attempt by using the blog to comment on our loss is just to give some affirmation to others who have gone through what we are enduring. Therefore, the quest for support is not a one-way endeavor. I hope to give as much affirmation as whatever I receive.

So, I am going to stay on this topic, writing about my family’s journey as time and events compel me.

What’s more … writing this blog keeps me alert.

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Another trek awaits

I don’t have a need to preview my next road trip with Toby the Puppy, but I do want to explain briefly what I expect to gain from my next venture away from my North Texas home.

Not much … truth be told.

Is it my destination that bums me out? Hardly. I am heading to suburban Phoenix to visit a couple of cousins who have taken residence there. One of them invited to see him there; he lives part time in Arizona. The other cousin recently moved there from Portland. We’ll have a chance to catch up and I will take the opportunity to fill them both in on the details of the tragedy that befell my family and me at the start of the year.

As for the head-clearing, heart-mending aspect of this venture, well, I am happy to report that my noggin is essentially clear and my heart — while it remains severely damaged from the loss of Kathy Anne to cancer — is in a much more manageable state than it was prior to my previous sojourns.

I won’t lie about this matter: 2023 has been the sh**iest year of my life! There is nothing I can do to redeem this year. However, I am able to cope better with the circumstance that brought such pain.

I am hoping to declare victory over the pain in due course.

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Here’s rest of the story

A post on Facebook earlier today told of my starting to grow the annual fall/winter beard, something I have done, oh, since The Flood.

I noted how the weather forecasters are projecting cooler weather in North Texas, which means I “have to be ready.”

OK. I didn’t tell you the whole story about why I grow this facial hair every year. Here’s the rest of the story.

I was married for 51 years to a woman who liked facial hair. A lot!

I had grown a mustache before our paths crossed in early 1971; she liked it … she said to me. Kathy Anne told her mother that she had “met the man I intend to marry, but there’s one thing: He has a mustache.” Her mother didn’t mind.

Not many years after we got hitched, I started growing the beard. I chose to don the extra facial hair in the autumn and winter because it gets chilly in Portland, where we lived. We moved to the Gulf Coast in the spring of 1984. I kept the tradition alive by growing the beard in the fall and winter and then shaving it off for the spring and summer.

If it were left totally up to my bride, I would have kept the beard all 12 months of the year. As I have noted, she was a fan of facial hair.

So … with that all disclosed, I am growing the beard this year — and probably far into the future — in honor of the girl of my dreams. The other stuff about “being ready” for cold weather? Pffftt!

It’s for Kathy Anne.