Meet My “BFF”…

So, a few posts back, I mentioned the conundrum of what to call someone you are dating seriously when you’re beyond the teen years.  When you’re young, and I mean, “ink is barely dry on the driver’s license” young, you refer to each other as “boyfriend and girlfriend”.  It’s cute…he’s a boy; you’re a girl, and you’re friends as a somewhat exclusive unit.  Ergo, “This is my boyfriend.”  This nomenclature remains as we age I suppose; I was married during the “boyfriend” stage and didn’t divorce until 47.  So I skipped that entire awkward period of trying to figure out what to call someone I was dating during my more mature (and we use that term loosely) years.


When I found myself easing back into the waters, I was “just dating”.  Men I had coffee with were “dates”.  That makes sense, as a coffee date is what we had.  Nothing more complicated or committed than that.  So there was no need to classify or explain the event.  Coffee date.  Most of us have coffee dates, so there is no hint of a relationship.  However, my coffee date with “Bruce Wayne” (go back and catch up if you are wondering…) progressed to dinner right after coffee, on the same night, so this one looked to having naming potential.


And it was…around family and close friends who know we are together, there is no need to slap a label on what we are.  We’re…well…together and supported by our inner circle.  And that is a lovely feeling.  We don’t need to explain ourselves to this group; they know we’re treading carefully yet joyfully having both had long first marriages.  But since we are moving out and about all over the city more and more frequently now as a couple, we are starting to run into people we know.  Rather than just strike up a conversation and fail to bring the other into it, we’re pretty well-trained to make introductions (good “home training” I like to say).  Here is where it gets a trifle “odd”…it feels a touch weird to refer to the man or woman you’re with as your “boyfriend/girlfriend”, when said person has gray hair and grandchildren.  “This is my friend, Sally,” sounds too impersonal, as if you’ve just started bumping into people you know while running errands and want to make sure everyone can follow who is who.  You aren’t engaged, so fiancé isn’t appropriate.  “My BFF” doesn’t quite cut it.  “My date” isn’t exactly right when you run into people you know in the Walgreens…or else it might lead people to jump to conclusions about why you and your “date” are in a Walgreens in the first place.


So, what exactly “is” this called?  I suppose one could, depending on your personalities, start interjecting some humor into the labeling.  “I’d like you to meet the woman who gives great back scratches but can’t find her clip on sunglasses twice in a row,” or “Betty, meet the man I’m seeing who stuffs his pocket like a squirrel.”  You know, just to distinguish this person from anyone you might have seen us with, date or not, in the past.


Personally, I’ve taken to introducing “Bruce” by “I’d like you to meet ‘Bruce’,” and then I leave it at that.  Let’s be honest, regardless of how you introduce the new person in your life, people will make their own conclusions, or not, based on their level of interest in your life.  If they are really interested, they’ll ask you something personal such as how long you’ve been dating.  If they don’t care, they’ll just move on with their conversation or life, as it should be.  In the end though, it’s only what the pair of you call each other when you’re together that matters, isn’t it?


So let’s weigh in here.  Leave a comment with how you and your other half/partner/BFF have handled this socially awkward situation.


Sundresses, Smiles and Spins

Feeling chatty this morning…deal with it 

I received a text Thursday a week ago from a friend that absolutely made me feel incredible. I was spending a leisurely afternoon amongst the racks at Goodwill, as that is the clothes closet of choice for anyone like myself steadily losing weight and not wanting to go broke while trying to stay clothed…so anyway, I’m looking at dresses since I have this odd sudden desire to feel girly again (still not telling you “Bruce Wayne’s true identity…might be sooner than later though…), when I run across a retro looking black and white sundress. It’s gorgeous. I also know that 3 of the women in my school would knock me over to get it.

So while I’m trying it on, and for once, complimenting myself on looking darned good in it, the phone dings. Not my honey’s tone, but the more “generic” tone. Normally, I’d leave it, but I thought I’d have a quick peek, being in a good mood while still in a dressing room can only mean good things, right? So it is one of the 3 co-workers, who would kill to have the dress. It is a photo of her art, with the message that I’ve inspired her to start painting again. I absolutely melted. In that moment, I knew that I was doing what I was meant to do, and I thank her for letting me see that.

(and yes, I bought the dress, which just needs a new button to keep me from flashing everyone unexpectedly…it just screams “Let’s walk around Carytown, holding hands and looking in windows”).

So fast forward to last night…I’ve since purchased two more “Marilyn Monroe” sundresses.  The choice for last night was highly daring for me.  Since losing such much weight, well, I’ve apparently misplaced the cleavage too.  Go figure.  Totally not fair.  Anyway…this black halter sundress with white flowers is gorgeous, and quite, um, plunging shall we say.  I’m looking down at the girls, wondering if athletic tape could somehow improve the situation: at least make it LOOK as if there are a pair still down there and give them a lift north.  Oh sod it…just go with it.

“Bruce” and I set off for Carytown, the really hip side of town where everything is in walking distance: shops, $1.99 theater, a ton of places to eat, and 99% of it all locally owned.  Love supporting this place, and even would consider this a good spot to eventually move (Bruce, quit trying to whack the keyboard…).  First stop, movie theater.  This is the historic landmark in RVA, the Byrd Theater (  Incredibly beautiful theater, but make sure you take cash; they don’t do plastic.  So, the two options were “The Other Woman” (ummmm…no.  Not a good choice) or “The Muppet Movie”  YES!!  Love Muppets!  How appropriate that two folks who are a pair of big kids at heart, and who spend so much of their lives with kids, would have a first movie of muppets.

After the show, it was strolling around Carytown, which is the ONLY thing to do after an evening at the movies, peeping in windows, laughing at displays, trying to figure out how anyone can pay some of the prices they pay for some of those items (cool though they may be)…and holding hands, and laughing.  Or should I say, smiling.  Smiling/laughing. Smaughing.  There, new word.  When he smiles, he makes this little sound like a chuckle.  I don’t even have to see his face to know when he’s smiling.  How cool is that?  I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, should we part paths in the future, I’ll have so many incredible memories to carry me through.  Lovely, lovely man…

So the night wrapped up at a pizza by the slice place, Mary Angela’s ( for a slice and a cheese steak (which Bruce claims is about the best he’s had outside of Philly).  We must confess, we were both charmed by a little girl, probably no more than 3 or 4 at the front.  She was spinning in circles, pausing, and blowing kisses at Bruce…then everyone else. We both had to just watch her, such pure joy and love in her little face as she spun, paused, blew two-handed kisses, sun, paused, kissed.  Precious.


Sounds like a great motto for how to live life.


What Have the Greeks Ever Done for Me?

Little bit of  quick history…(no seriously! I CAN make this quick!!)  On Facebook, as we’ve said, we are keeping the new beau’s identity quiet for now, which led me first to call him “He Who Shall Not Be Named”, which prompted the inevitable, “Kim’s dating Lord Voldemort!”  We ran with it a few days, until a friend said he preferred to think I was dating Bruce Wayne.  Much better, so the name has stuck now.  On with the story….

So I got the opportunity to introduce Bruce Wayne to Greek food tonight.  It’s only my favorite, followed by Italian and French.  Honestly, have you ever eaten food that just screamed:

SHARE! There’s a ton more where this came from! And it all has the MOST amazing flavors…and get this, it’s good for you too!  Trust us! You’ll LOVE it!  Now, have some ouzo…wash it down…. 

Well, the little spot I dragged him to tonight is a new favorite, Bell Greek, owned by George, a pastry chef extraordinaire, with baklava I would give up coffee for…it’s that good.  Ok, maybe not coffee, but Dr. Pepper.  I’d give up Dr. Pepper for it.  The service was wonderful, and Nicole, our waitress, had to be a high schooler (sorry darling if you’re older!) and was about as adorable as she could be.  He went for the roasted eggplant dip platter (eggplant dip, pita bread, fresh tomatoes, onions, olives, feta), and I went for the  slightly larger, more assorted platter with hummus, feta, tzatziki,, dolmades, spanakopita… I got enough that I knew I would need to share.  Bruce baby wasn’t getting out of there without trying a bit of the favorites!

We’re barely sitting when George greets us and brings us samples of his soup of the day, one I’ve never tried before, but seriously, next time I’m sick, ya’ll call George and have him make me a quart of it. Greek chicken soup: avgolemono.  It’s lemon and chicken and holy cow I think I’ve just died and gone to heaven.  Funny enough, when I was showing Bruce the menu online before we left, he pointed to the word and said, “I think that’s a made-up word.”  Karma baby…karma…..THEN, George had the NERVE to set a pair of mini baklava on the table.  Now, I’ve been here before, so I KNOW his baklava.  You have no idea the amount of self restraint it took to not snarf them then and there. But, this is still the “getting to know you phase”, so I behaved.  Next time, no promises on not eating the baklava before dinner. I would have to say that his intro to Greek cuisine was a success.  At least, he sure wasn’t turning down anything, and the plates looked pretty darned clean.

Apart from the good conversation, I got a little boost (who am I kidding…a BIG boost), when perky in a pleasant way Nicole came over and gushed that she loved my tan lines and that she WISHED she had tan lines because she needed her vitamin D and she just LOVED it when it was sunny and she could wait the patio tables (mental note to make certain to go back on a sunny day for coffee and baklava just so Nicole can wait on us again…).  Bruce and I cracked up.  He laughed and told Nicole that funny enough, I had just asked him before we left if I thought my goofy yoga top tan line racing stripes running up my back looked too weird in the sundress.  He obviously had the correct response.  She laughed. We laughed. She bounced off.  Dinner could not have been more relaxed and perfect.

No, ladies, you may not borrow Bruce; he may be available to give your partners lessons in being romantic though.  We’ll see.  maybe he’ll get a guest post soon.

Oh, and the website, should you be in the area, is  You can find them on Facebook at  It’s worth the trip just for the baklava.