Welcome To My New Look
A decade ago, I launched melanirobinson.com. I loved everything about the website because I had a talented designer who was able to take the look and feel I described and transfer that to a space that reflected who I was in that moment. I had just ended a year of online dating, one that I chronicled on the blog 1 Year of Online Dating at 50. I’d grown weary of discussing my personal life and I was battle-scarred from over 100 dates in that year. I wanted a fresh start but most of all, I wanted to write about anything other than dating.
My biggest concern was that I would lose contact with those who followed the dating blog. Those who cheered me on, shared their own dating woes and commiserated with me when I had the same sort of disastrous dating experiences they had. These were friends I’d never met, yet felt connected to, nonetheless. I was happy to discover most continued to hang with me, even when I wasn’t blogging much or was blogging about topics other than dating. I loved my then-website and probably held onto it for a bit too long without refreshing.
I do that.
Hang on to things I love.
BUT, just like the Chloe jeans that I had in a death grip for twenty-five years because they made my butt look fantastic, it was time to let go and create a site that reflected who I am today. I worked with a truly talented designer that I met randomly on a shuttle from San Francisco to wine country. We talked for almost an hour before sharing the work we do. Once he told me he designed websites, I knew our bus meeting was kismet. Thank you, Nick. I love what you’ve created.
Now back to those damn jeans. For the record, it was not just my backside that was fabulous in them. They were unofficially labeled the Chloe Butt Jeans. That moniker was even repeated in a Sex and The City episode because everyone’s bum was a perky onion when draped in that denim. I hope the person that stumbles upon them in a thrift store knows that she/he/they hit the jackpot.
The jeans seem ordinary. They are not.
I have new residential look too. Half the time, at least. For the last year, I’ve divided my time between New York City and Western New York (WNY) close to the Canadian border. I didn’t choose the area because of its proximity to a country that is saner than ours, as of January 20th, but since the election in November it’s been good to know that with only a short drive, I can be in a country where decency still matters to the majority of its citizens.
I chose to live in WNY part-time for a couple of reasons. Number one was because I was struggling to finish the memoir I’ve been working on. It’s about the two years that I lived and worked in Russia. NYC is the most spectacular distraction on the planet. Western New York? Quiet.
In NYC there is always something going on and I could find thousands of excuses as to why writing should take a backseat to a city adventure or discovery. I also began cursing the NYC soundtrack when I sat down at my computer to write. Everything prevented me from writing: construction noise, sirens, people talking on the street, dogs barking, babies crying.
You name it, I used it.
I’ve written almost daily to those same noises for years, and they were never an issue.
Was this less FOMO and more FOFM (fear of facing memories)?
Yes, it was.
When I first started writing, grief was front and center and raw. Remembering my time with my late husband wasn’t any more painful when I was writing about it because the agony was everywhere and all-consuming. It clung to me, like a custom made garment that I put on the moment I woke up and wore until I fell asleep each night.
I don’t live that way anymore.
BUT, I was surprised at how quickly I could put that sad frock back on.
When I write, I take myself back to that place I’m describing. I close my eyes and try to remember miniscule details that bring the story to life for the reader. What was I touching? How did it feel? What did it smell like? What were the sounds, the background noises? How did his fingers feel when we braided our hands together? What was the texture of the sweater? Was it cashmere or cotton? What was the color? What was it that he did with his eyes when he looked at me lovingly? What about in anger? What was that thing he did with his mouth when he was about to say something inappropriate? What was it about his laugh that was different when I said something outrageous?
I moved to NYC to escape memories or at least be distracted by what was unfamiliar and new. With the opposite in mind, I came to WNY to be removed from distractions and to immerse myself in the memories I’d worked hard to pack away. The second reason I chose this area was that it was affordable. I absolutely looked for somewhere closer to the city and not so much of a trek, but the cost was prohibitive. The benefit though is I do plan to spend time in Toronto once it stops snowing. I lived there for about a year with Neal, my late husband, and it is one of my favorite cities. I haven’t visited because there were too many memories there as well, all good ones by the way. But, since I’m getting reacquainted with boxed up remembrances, it seems like an excellent place to add to the list.
I’m not dating and have no interest in exploring that now. I’ve attributed my lack of desire to my focus on the book, but I think it’s bigger than that. I’ve spent a lot of time by myself in the last year and I’ve gotten quite comfortable with that aloneness. I’ve found a sense of contentedness in the gift of focusing on my needs and wants for this extended period of time. The thought of someone entering my world and rearranging any part of it is off-putting. I bought a new bed for the place in WNY, and I like that I’m the only one who has slept in it.
Perhaps it’s age or hormones? Although I’m on hormone replacement, which is finally getting the focus and attention on the health benefits for menopausal and post-menopausal women. It’s about goddamn time.
Should I up my testosterone?
I’m not saying if the right man presented himself in an organic sort of way, say at my favorite NYC or Toronto bar, that I would shut it down. But what are the chances of that? This would have to be someone who complimented my life but would not complicate it in the slightest way. It feels ridiculous to even write those words. The addition of another person automatically makes waves in one’s life but in my current mindset, I’m more about paddleboarding than surfing. Do I miss sex? Yes. Enough to set fire to my peace? Nope.
Cafe Lux
I have the company of good friends, many of whom are lifelong, and the companionship of my dog, Birdie. Where I go, Bird goes and it’s no doubt codependent. I fill my life with the work I love and the experiences I choose based on what has sparked my curiosity. I nourish my body with complex, outrageously delicious meals that I prepare solely for my own pleasure. Imagine that?
For now--and possibly forever--it feels like enough.
Go ahead, skulk around the new website and let me know what you think. If you would like to be notified when I add a new blog post, you’ll need to subscribe, even if you were subscribed before. I promise to use your email address for only that one purpose. I’m not sure what I’ll be writing about, but I promise to keep it entertaining, informative and above all else, honest. You can also follow me on Instagram, Facebook, Bluesky and TikTok.
I need a lover that won't drive me crazy. Someone to thrill me, and then go away. I need a lover that won't drive me crazy.Someone that knows the meaning of ah, hey hit the highway. -Pat Benatar’s version