Melani Robinson

Author | 1 Year of Online Dating at 50

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Luck

February 13, 2013 by Melani 32 Comments

Neal’s plane from Toronto was delayed several hours. I hadn’t checked the flights before leaving the house so I was at McCarran Airport two hours ahead of schedule. It was rare that I had nothing to do with raising two teenagers and a demanding job. I meandered through the stores looking at stuff that visitors bought last minute to commemorate their trip to Sin City.

As I picked up Las Vegas shot glasses, flipped through racks of cheesy T-shirts and caught up on celebrity gossip in the magazine section, I thought about luck.

Many previous V-days were spent with a man I’d been with off and on for several years. Our relationship was far from perfect—some might say even toxic—but I was worn down and tired of hoping for something better. He loved my daughters and me and I wanted to have a partner.

BUT there’s nothing that illuminates a bad pairing more than meeting the Yin to one’s Yang.

Earlier that day a ridiculously large box of tulips was delivered to my office.

My favorite flower, and there were dozens in that package direct from Holland. There was also a note:

We’re so lucky to have found each other. Some of the women you work with won’t receive flowers today. Please share these with them. I love you forever, Neal.

Waiting just outside of Security I saw him approaching before he saw me. No matter how many times I watched him head my way I still couldn’t believe he was with me.

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He always carried on his bag—not trusting baggage handlers in what he called “cowboy country.” By then it was almost midnight and we decided to drive until we got tired. We’d booked a room for the weekend in our destination, but we weren’t going to make it there that night.

By Barstow we were bushed. A bedraggled motel was the best we could do and Neal chastised me for walking barefoot from the shower to the bed as he brushed his teeth—wearing only his loafers.

Waiting for me on the pillow was a card and my favorite holiday sweets. Neal was a Godiva Chocolates sort of guy but that box would be for some other chick. I’m vintage and get an unnaturally large kick out of these.

Come on. If my candy’s saying:

“Cutie Pie”

Purr Fect”

“So Fine”

Or the best:

“Cool Cat”

It can’t be wrong.

The next morning we grabbed a McMuffin, and hit the road. A couple of hours later we’d arrived. I’ve been to lots of romantic spots but there’s something about Laguna Beach that’s especially magical. This was not a new experience—I’d been there multiple times since I was a child–I’d also visited with other men. The difference that weekend was that Neal and I were so in love. We could be anywhere and immersed in each other, but given that setting that exuded eroticism and it was almost overwhelming. It wasn’t that we did anything different than I’d done previously but it was the ocean, the way it looked, the salty scent and feel on the skin, the relaxed beach town vibe that encouraged the tactile.

We stayed at the Surf and Sand Resort and slept that Saturday night with the door to our balcony open.

The sound of the waves crashing caused me to fall into a deep sleep that would’ve lasted  until morning had Neal not awakened me. Always a light and sporadic sleeper I would often find the space next to me empty but on that night he was there, his mouth next to my ear, repeating my name.

He took my hand and led me to the balcony overlooking the surf. He wanted to share the view of the deserted beach and the water lit up by the moon. We were alone.

The next morning we took a walk on that beach and I asked him to go barefoot. He protested, reminding me how much he disliked sand between his toes–so unclean, and all that. But he finally acquiesced and grimaced a little for effect.

I knew the truth.

Neal was so beautiful in (almost) every way but he had the most heinous feet. Large, wide caveman-like monstrosities with a big toe that was startling in it’s girth. The first time I saw those tootsies I winced and then insisted he put them in my lap for closer inspection. After a few minutes of silent observation while running my hands over every part I nodded and said:

“Yep, those are without a doubt the ugliest feet I’ve ever seen.”

After he died, when I needed to smile I’d simply put my hand into his shoe to feel the deep impression left in the lining by that toe. I’d remember my merciless teasing and his laughter that always followed.

So Neal took off his shoes, we walked on the beach barefoot and then asked a stranger to take a photo.

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The drive back to Las Vegas (and to the airport for his departure) was a quiet but comfortable one. We were both smoothed out–mellowed by the experience. Neal told me that for the first time, in as long as he could remember, he slept for the entire flight back to Toronto.

Happy Valentine’s Day.

“I’ve been lucky. I’ll be lucky again.” Bette Davis

After the Show—Second Steve Harvey Experience

January 30, 2013 by Melani 24 Comments

I grew up in Las Vegas and there are certain things one might associate with a desert. Lizards, cacti, tumbleweeds and hot, oh so hot weather, but an ice skating rink? Not a chance. But just like so many contradictory things about my hometown there it was, The International Ice Palace, juxtaposed in a shopping center with a parking lot of black pavement so scorching that on most days could burn the soles off your feet. I was in sixth grade and on Friday afternoons we rode the bus from our school to the indoor rink for a few hours of zipping around in circles with rented white skates.  

Unknown

I was pretty good.

I was also eleven years old.


 

Have you ever had a skill you acquired in your youth that kicks your ass in adulthood?

Humbling, right?

How about having that humiliation on national television? That was my biggest fear when the producers of The Steve Harvey Show told me that one of my arranged dates with Rick would include ice-skating. I’m, um, a bit of a klutz. In a post I wrote on www.1yearofonlinedatingat50.com I describe a date where I fell flat on my ass.

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 In a fancy restaurant.

Packed with the lunchtime crowd.

On a first date.

Here’s what my friends say:

“You glide into a room—head high, shoulders back like you own the place then you eat shit better than anyone.”

Have I mentioned that I have the most charming group of friends?

Alright, enough bellyaching–on to the dates.

I waited on the bench outside of the skating rink for Rick. I had a smile on my face but inside I was a wreck. What if I didn’t feel any attraction towards this man? I’d already had that sort of experience with my last date on the show and was worried that it would begin to look like a pattern. “Is this a pattern?” I asked myself while waiting.

When I saw Rick approaching I turned towards the producer and saw her smiling.

Halle-flippin-lujah!

He was good looking,–I was definitely attracted to him physically, and after a few minutes of speaking he seemed like a nice man. We laced our skates, hit the ice and Rick confirmed my initial impression. He was a true gentleman. He extended his arm as soon as he saw my apprehension. I was grateful.

Shit, that ice was slippery.

I can hear you say DUH from here, by the way.

I’d also forgotten just how much ankle strength it requires. Not wanting to be a big whiner, I skated through the pain, but let me tell you if my fifty-one year old ankles could talk they would’ve said,

“Bitch, please. Sit your ass down and drink some hot chocolate and add a shot of whiskey.”

Here’s what I knew by the end of the first date:

1. I was physically attracted to Rick.

2. I liked him as a person.

3. He was a gentleman.

4. I needed to elevate my throbbing ankles and get my hands on some pain meds, pronto.

I believe the second date (salsa dancing) gave me more anxiety than the first and here’s why.  I’m not a horrible dancer but no one’s mistaking me for J-Lo either. Sad but true–I’m no Fly Girl. Just think about it the next time you hit the dance floor at a party. Would you want millions of strangers watching you shake your groove thing? Then there was the awkwardness of being so physically close to a man I didn’t know well, but salsa it was.

Rick was a much better dancer than I. I’m not sure if you’ll see that in the video, but he rocked. After a few minutes with our patient (and ridiculously young and beautiful) dance instructor, I forgot the cameras were rolling and began to relax and enjoy the lesson.

PLUS, I had on great shoes. If one’s going to look like a fool it’s best to do it fashionably.

Chie Mihara-several years old. LOVE these!

Chie Mihara-several years old. LOVE these!

After an hour of those hip moves I’d forgotten my ankles and focused on the icepack I’d be putting on my midsection once I returned to the hotel. I’m reminded of my grandmother—damn you, aging process!

Rick and I didn’t have much time to talk and I looked forward to our third date, which I was glad to know didn’t include zip lining or bungee jumping.

Dinner, just dinner.

Rick looked amazing as he walked towards the table in his suit. It was a perfect fit and I loved the European cut. I was very relaxed and during dinner I got to know him much better. He talked about his adult children and the significance of being a good father. He also talked briefly about his divorce and asked me about mine and that’s when I shared that I was a widow. I know that’s not the sort of information that’s expected and I usually share it on the first date. I think perhaps that’s too soon and I was glad I waited this time. Mr. Harvey gave me that advice the last time I was on the show and he was right.

The food and wine were absolutely amazing at Acadia.

No sign so you really have to know what you're looking for.

No sign so you really have to know what you’re looking for.

I HIGHLY recommend this glorious restaurant if you’re in Chicago. Here are some photos that Rick asked me to take of the food.

Mussel-compliments of the chef. One bite of amazing.

Mussel-compliments of the chef. One bite of amazing.

Rick and I shared this first course of beet salad. Yum!

Rick and I shared this first course of beet salad. Yum!

We also shared their version of risotto. Amazing.

We also shared their version of risotto. Excellent.

Rick had the beef. I had a bite and it was sublime.

Rick had the beef. I had a bite and it was sublime.

I had the lobster. The best I've ever tasted.

I had the lobster. The best I’ve ever tasted.

As you can see, they are each a work of art and my compliments to the fabulous chef, our server, Carlos, and the warm and welcoming hostess—what a perfect dining experience from start to finish.

After dinner we shared a cab and Rick walked me into my hotel. He really is such a gentleman. We had a nightcap at the hotel bar, and it was nice to talk without cameras. We were going to try to get together the following evening but Rick had been coughing during dinner and it got worse during our drink. By the following day he was quite ill and we had to postpone our date (sans cameras) but we had a lengthy phone conversation.

The next time we saw each other was during the taping of the show. I thought Rick looked quite dashing in his suit and there wasn’t any awkwardness between us. He suggested we go on a fourth date—a cooking class. We both are foodies.

We’ve exchanged several text messages and talked in the last two weeks. Rick lives in the Chicago area and I’m in New York. Everyone knows that a long distance relationship is difficult, but simply dating long distance seems even tougher. Who knows? Perhaps I’ll visit Chicago or Rick will have a reason to be in NYC. If either happens I have no doubt that we’ll meet up again. It will probably be that cooking class he suggested. After three dates I don’t know everything about him but what I do know is he’s a man of his word.

Handsome, smart and guy who does what he says. I think it’s safe to say that Rick is quite a catch.

1097_RICK_AND_MELANI1

I’m the first to laugh at my clumsiness. Check out these outtakes from the show by clicking here.

Click here for our message to Steve.

“I’m the most uncoordinated clumsy, klutzy person. I always had a bruise, I always tripped and fell.” Katherine Heigl

Steve Harvey Part Deux

January 28, 2013 by Melani Leave a Comment

I will return to The Steve Harvey Show on Wednesday, January 30th. Set your DVRs if you’re interested. You can check the time and station in your area by clicking here.

Steve sends me on a date or three with a guy he has chosen.  

New blog post will be up once the show airs!

 

The Steve Harvey Experience

January 17, 2013 by Melani 15 Comments

Welcome to the first post of the new blog!

For those who’ve been following my antics for the last year I say, “Hello, old friends!” If you’re new I’m happy you’re here and I’ll try not to shock you too much this first time as I’ve been known to have a bit of a cyber potty mouth.

Today my daughters and I appeared on The Steve Harvey Show. What an experience. A producer found www.1yearofonlinedatingat50.com and loved the blog–especially the  relationship with my adult daughters and their advice during my year of looking for love. From some of the disaster dates I’d been on there was probably some things I was doing wrong and perhaps Steve could help.

He is kind of the Love Guru (cue porn music here).

They flew us to Chicago to tape the show. We felt very fancy as the driver picked us up at the airport.

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He drove us to the Amalfi, a fantastic boutique hotel in downtown Chicago.

We had a few days of shooting video to tell the backstory. It’s strange because when talking about Neal, my late husband, I got quite emotional. It has been six years since he died and my reaction was surprising. I suppose there’s a prepared script in general conversations that one uses when describing the death of a loved one. The Things I Can Say Without Crying sort of thing and the producer asked questions that I don’t normally answer. Bottom line, I miss him terribly and probably always will. That longing for something that was is always exacerbated by circumstances both extremely good or very bad.

Being on the show was one of those extremely good things that I wished I could share with Neal. Yet the very thing that brought me there (the dating blog) would never have happened if he were still alive. Discovering my passion for writing wouldn’t have happened either since I wrote the book after his death as a way to honor him. There was a part of me that was unfulfilled, although I didn’t know it, and writing has filled the void.

I often wonder if Neal had lived would I have realized the need for creative expression? I thought my world was complete—he was all I needed. Not so.

Life is weird, right?

For instance, I’m an extremely private person. For most of my adult life I’ve only shared personal stuff with a small circle of friends and yet I’ve spent the last year putting the most private and intimate details of my world out there for all to see. Lately there’s been a lot said about the over sharing that’s occurred with the vast number of memoirs on the shelves and, gasp, Reality TV.

I get it.

BUT, I do think Jodie Foster should pick on someone her own size. “Leave Honey Boo Boo  alone, Clarice.”

Come on. When you’ve invited your dear friend Mel Gibson to sit at your table when accepting the Cecil B. DeMille Lifetime Achievement Award at the Golden Globes, getting all judge-y is perhaps not the best plan. In my humble opinion, of course.

I guess Jodie wouldn’t approve of the dating blog. Darn, I always hoped we could be friends.

OK, now back to Steve Harvey.

The girls picked a guy for me to go out with. Now that was different. They are a tough duo. Generally, my oldest Morgan, hates every guy I date–at least in the beginning. Plus, I’ve been known to be a tad picky. I’ve got this aversion to excessive nose hair and with the over fifty crowd it’s a jungle up there. This was no easy task but they chose a very nice man, Denny. Was it a love connection? Well, no. He was a good guy but there was no spark.

There’s got to be a flicker of lust.

I need to feel that at some point I’ll want to take my clothes off.

What?

Even women my age and older still want to get naked.

After the date we exchanged a couple of email messages—the usual pleasantries. I thanked him for being a good sport.

He suggested I was a serial dater—several times.

I didn’t take too kindly to his assessment (might’ve gotten a little terse) but we reached an understanding and wished each other the best. He told me he’s met someone and is happy. I’m glad for him.

Being on the show was the highlight of our trip to Chicago. Steve has the most amazing people working for him. Every single one of them. From the producers to the cameramen, the sound guys to hair and makeup, they were all absolute professionals and just nice people.

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It was the experience of a lifetime for the three of us and I want to thank Steve Harvey for allowing me to tell my story, calling me out when he thought I was full of shit, and for genuinely caring about my success in this search for love.

At the airport and headed home.

At the airport and headed home.

He’s even invited me back so stay tuned, there’s more to come.

Yep, that's me under The Bean.

Yep, that’s me under The Bean.

I’m trying something new. I’ve created a special video for those who’ve subscribed to this blog. I discuss the three questions my friends asked when I told them I was going to be on The Steve Harvey Show. If you’re interested, just subscribe—it is over there at the top on the right margin. You’ll be notified when there’s a new blog post AND you’ll be sent a link to the video.

Click here for the After the Show interview.

“I don’t like to share my personal life…it wouldn’t be personal if I shared it.” George Clooney

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My name is Melani Robinson and I’m a writer/blogger, and online dating expert living in New York City on the Upper West Side. READ MORE

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