Tomatoes are a great metaphore for dating

Over the past few weeks I’ve been thinking a lot about re-bounding. Not in the basketball sense, but in the dating kind. Mostly it has been on my mind, because a friend of mine mentioned in passing that as adults in the dating world, essentially everyone we meet/ date is on the rebound.  Could this really be true? I mean in some sense or another, I guess all of us who are out there and looking, are doing exactly that because we are not with someone else… it hasn’t worked out for us at some point… but I don’t think that automatically makes every viable date, a person on the rebound (I don’t consider myself to be on the re-bound…) I guess it depends on your definition.

My friend suggested that being on the re-bound was more a constant state of comparing and contrasting past relationships, and looking/ hoping for something better. (this was a guy friend, by the way)  Personally, I thought this was sort of the cotton candy, rose tinted, the glass is half full, optimistic view of the world approach. The very word rebound means to spring back, or recoil… almost the exact opposite of moving forward with hopeless abandon…

I’ve always viewed re-bounding as a way to channel your energy from a past relationship. All that energy, all those thoughts, all that time and effort that was once devoted to a relationship is suddenly just a stagnate cloud, post breakup, and for me at least, the rebound is a way to re-direct… a new obsession, a new channel, a new distraction. A palate cleanser, if you will…  I think Elizabeth Gilbert describes it really well in Eat, Pray, Love when she says “I dove out of my marriage and into David’s arms exactly the same way a cartoon circus performer dives off a high platform and into a small cut of water, vanishing completely. I clung to David for escape form marriage as if he were the last helicopter pulling out of Saigon. I inflicted upon him my every hope for my salvation and happiness.”( Eat, Pray, Love, pg 18) Ok so this is maybe a little extreme… but it really seems to capture the diversionary view of being on the re-bound. But to some extent I also think that being on the rebound is a little bit of that optimistic note… of at least being open to the idea of someone else. 

That being said… I know there are various definitions, and various situations. I know several people who are in long term, committed relationships with the re-bound guy…. People who have married the re-bound guy… (good for them I say!) and of course I love to cling to the ever present notion that love will happen when you are least expecting it… IE sometimes just out of a relationship when your emotions are still so raw and you are trying to climb out of the aftermath. I’m not saying I’ve experienced that, but I believe it can happen.  

Of course you could also end up in that murky place where you completely close yourself off, and you make yourself unavailable emotionally… The walls go up, the armor goes on… and hell, we’ve all been there… stuck in the wallowing (let’s face it… sometimes we don’t want to get over it) but then we also run the risk of completely missing out on something great… even if the timing isn’t.  I’m not applying this is any specific situations or instances… but I was thinking along these lines as I was out harvesting my garden earlier this evening.  I have these sun-gold tomatoes that are pretty much taking over my world right now. I’ve sort of let them go, and they are rambling and overwhelming most of the other large plants in my garden right now. I pick a few as I water, but the idea of them was sort of overwhelming…. Until tonight I finally had some dedicated garden time, and I went out for a serious harvest. And underneath the rambling sun-golds I found two black krim tomatoes, and twenty green zebras. This is the part where I make a cheesy garden metaphor and compare dating and rebounding to tomatoes… get ready.  But really, I was so overwhelmed by the sun-golds… they were pretty much consuming everything, and then when I actually stopped to weed through them, I was pleasantly surprised by what I found.  I think dating is a lot like that… Once you weed through all the pre-existing emotional baggage that we all carry around, I think it is really easy to be pleasantly surprised by what you weren’t expecting to find. Sassy, striped, chartreuse tomatoes.

I don’t really know where I’m going with this… maybe we really are all just rambling around on the re-bound. Or maybe we are all just optimistic… or maybe we are all just naive. Maybe we are all just floating around in a state between “looking for a distraction” and “looking for someone”… and in every situation you kind of have to hope that you end up being the “someone”, and not just the distraction. But I’m hoping that in any situation, I get to be the sassy, unexpected tomato.

Clearly I need to wear red more often

Lately I’ve been sort of slacking on my fashion… It happens when you get to wear yoga pants to work twice a week… But it became rather apparent to me exactly how slacking, when I threw on a casual dress for a work event on Wednesday, and every single person on staff made a comment. “Wow you look really nice today” “Oh I LOVE that dress” “Red is definitely your color” … clearly my wardrobe slacking has been apparent to everyone but myself… But it was a good reminder that when you dress the part, good things happen… so it should have been of no surprise that while wear said dress, I was offered a chance to become a mistress and move to Argentina…

I blame it on my Project Runway obsession mixed with my real world practicality. I love getting dressed up for things, but sometimes the added work just means more laundry. So I decided to throw on something in the morning that I could easily wear later that evening on a date. Gotta love the outfits that are both work and date appropriate. It was just a simple shirt dress, perfect for summer, and great into fall. Nothing fancy, no bells, no whistles, but the punch of color mixed with the casual feel give the dress just the right mix of everyday and showstopper. (it really is a fabulous dress, and it was fabulously inexpensive. Thank you H&M)

I really should have put out a tip jar or something, because the second I was introduced for the wine tasting, I was met with a roomful of applause (not something that typically happens during my work day). Yes, there was a huge language barrier… but applause and whispers of “red dress” translate fairly well. I had no idea I was going to be pouring wine for a room full of male, Argentinean, Chain saw sales men… and in the end I like to think it was my sparkling personality that impressed them more than the red dress… but I’m not holding my breath.

the red shirt dress in question...

When my dad was in middle school the girls were not allowed to wear red because the administration thought the boys wouldn’t be able to control themselves… not even kidding. Though normally,  I like to think that idea is a little archaic, the whispers of “red dress” were filling the room… so I put on a smile, and muddled my way through a conversation with non-existent Spanish skills, and their broken English. I stopped to pour a glass of wine, and immediately everyone at the table was asking what my tattoo said. I never think to cover it up, as it doesn’t bother anyone at work, and I seldom think people are looking at my feet anyway, but apparently it was rather intriguing to this group. So there I was, two bottles of wine in hand, trying to explain to them the meaning of “Tell me what it is you plan to do with your one wild and precious life.” I’m not entirely sure they understood, but as they seemed to try to piece the meaning together one of them said “our life wish is to get you to come home with us to Argentina”

A few moments later I was being introduced to Tito, who according to his friends, is a “very important man in Argentina” I smiled, and continued to pour the wine. It would have never worked. I don’t speak an ounce of Spanish, and he was old enough to be my father. Though I spent a few moments imaging the young translator I could have hired, and my life in Argentina… Tayler, Tito, and Toby. I’m kidding. But the whole experience did solidify that I was wearing the exact right dress for that evening.

Clearly I need to wear red more often…

Coming home to September

I sometimes hesitate to post poems to my blog... worried my work will somehow not stay my own. But it also seems a shame not to share it... especially since the last few days have had that moody fall quality to them... 

Coming home to September

My garden has tomatoes for days

the season of last,

lingering.

The daylight hours, not.

I close my eyes, and the warmth still feels like summer… memories of August.

remnants of red leaves are scatted on my porch, 

like a secret between me and Fall.

“I’m coming”

I browse the neighborhood, which is still holding verdant,

as the seasons days begin to dwindle

and I wonder where they started their journey.

I am finishing my own… at least for today,

As I come home to September.

effortless summer dinner

I love this time of year. There is the potential for fall, for change, but the days are still hot and longish feeling, and the food is still fresh and seasonal. I love that an entire meal can be inspired by a single tomato (heck it could almost be the entire meal) and that this time of year the ingredients can me minimal and simple to produce the best tasting things. Simplicity.

Last night I harvested a basket of sungold tomatoes (as I do almost every day… they are taking over my life and my garden) I threw several handfuls into a large skillet with a drizzling of olive oil, a bit of sel gris, and a few bits of savory and let them simmer. A bit of pasta, some basil leaves, and mozzarella cheese, all thrown together in a bowl and sprinkled with salt. It doesn’t get much simpler, or much better. Hot fresh ingredients, not over-powered by a bunch of foof and flashy presentation, just pure flavor.

It’s the type of meal best consumed on the front porch, with a mason jar full of (insert beverage of your choice here), and some good company or a good book.