Best belgian dating site

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Period.

I have tried some of them these last few weeks, and this one is one step above the others.

Functions are what you may expect from this kind of site: relative anonymity, stored search criteria and features that you rarely see elsewhere except on "speciality" sites. The best part is this: you may subscribe by SMS (so you so not have to fear for your credit cardas it is not required). And it is cheap. Beyond the fact that it is the best site available as far as value for money is concerned, their tariff and payment policy are just right. I have met more interesting people through this site than from all the other ones combined.

Noise vs signal

The trouble with being smarter than everyone is that you soon learn to block the background noise.

Angry

Anger.

Enduring anger.

Something I usually do not feel. Something I do not know.

Displeasure on occasion, a fit of anger here and there, that I know. Fury on occasions, twice in my life to be precise. 

That I know. That I can deal with.

But not this.

It all started with an email from Ms I earlier today. Well, it all started a long ago, if one really want to dig at the roots.We have been more open toward each for a month or so. We have been quite open about who we were seeing and why. I we have continued this sane disclosure during our email chitchats.

So, to be honest, I shouldn't be surprised. And in fact I was not. She was just telling me that she is feeling frustrated at work, and is compensating by granting herself instant gratification. To be honest, so do I, even though, for me, frustration is not a state I strive to live in, but to each hie, or her, own.

So, my reply to that was that I was busy with work, that I deplored the fact that she had chosen not to spend time with me but that this regret was quite selfish given that my current predicaments forbids me to take proper care of her. Or something to that effect.

It took me four hours to feel angry, and I do not know what angers me most.

• The fact that she is actively looking elsewhere? She told me, I knew, and even though this situation is not to my liking, to say the least, well, I understand.
• The fact that she has deliberately chosen not to contact me? Well, nothing really new here.
• The fact that I took the pain to be gracious when I was not feeling gracious at all? Well, that's closer to it.
• The fact that I might have given her the impression that I do not care, that this is all well and dandy in the best of all possible worlds. That's even more angering.

So my guess is that it is a combination of all that, all the things I am not comfortable with but that I pretend not to disapprove (in other world: lies), and all the things I have made to make me at least appearing not to disapprove (mor elies and even worst, lying to myself).

I am quite angry with her, but, above all, I am furious with myself.

Jeez, this is a "I have to work on myself day", and not an easy one...

Schrödinger meets von Moltke

Remember him?

Thought so ;-)

I have had an epiphany the other day.

I was talking about project management methodologies with a colleague, and he jokingly referred to quantum theory, saying something to the effect that the amount of effort put to analyse a new project before it is even formally started is by no way an ndicator of its future success. I replied something like "von Moltke uncertainty principle" and we both had a laugh and that was the end of it. 

But still, this conversation was running in crcles in the back of my mind, like a song you hear early in the morning and that you cannot get out of your mind for the rest of the day.

It took some time to percolate.

I plan. I love planning. I build intricate plans, try to take each and every parameters into account, have backup plans, alternate routes, different sets of objectives, redudant reources pre-allocation, min/max cases, critical paths by enveloppe and super critical ones. I take pride and derive a lot of self-esteem from that work. In effect, planning becomes more satisfying than doing. Which would be bad if I wasn't actually accomplishing something factual from time to time, but still feels wrong when I look at the time I have spent planning for things that I haven't done.

So, von Moltke emphasises the fact that even though a plan cannot be perfect, that, at some point, you will have to improvise to some extent. But, ultimately, all of this planning is worthless when it is not being put to use. Your plan is there, but what will it lead you into? You have to actually open the box and take a look at the cat.

And you open the door and you step inside...

Well, all of this I knew already. I hadn't really thought it out fully, but I knew of the implications. What I hadn't realised was that my love for planning had slowly encroached on most aspects of my life. And that because I am feeling the need to have "backup plans", I have developped an unhealthy tendancy to keep my options open. There is nothing inherently wrong with keeping one's options open. However, when you never exercise one of them, it is worrying. I feel like I have spent most of my time identifying doors, looking through their keyholes, but rarely opening them and actualy stepping inside. Paradoxically, even though these options provide me with a wide range of alternatives allowing me to safely choose the course I want, I just felt my world feeling with uncertainties.  

I will have to take action on that. But right now, I do not know where to start or what to do.

40!

and five days, yeeepeeee :-)

I am still wondering about how I got there in one piece ;-)

So, how are things going for me?

On the family front, there is not much change.

My father is back home, prefers in house revalidation instead of being treated as an out patient at the local hospital, and my mother seems to enter a depressive phase. There isn't much joy there, but everyone has to adapt to the new situation, and, all things being considered, my father seems to be coping quite well. He is reading, taking a keen interest in his recreative activities and even though his physical condition doesn't seem to be improving, he seems to be morally much more solid than he once was. 

My brother seems to be going fine, but I won't be seeing him nor his family for a few years. Not until my two nieces are a little bit older and easier to travel with. 

On the housing front, my place in the city is a cratered mess. And my place by the sea will soon become less practical with road works preventing access to my garage starting on Monday. I'll have to take some tough decisions here. I am currently envisioning geting a bike and a train pass for the next few months.

About work, well, things are no longer so grim as they once were. The new project manager is doing a good job, and is proving to be a very effective umbrella.

I haven't seen my best friends for a few weeks now: commuting is taking quite a toll on my time, and getting by with four hours of sleep during the week is getting tiresome. 

About dating, well, I haven't been that lucky since the beginning of the year: it seems that the curse I am under is blanketing my whole life...

Out of my last four first dates, here is what I have fished:

- "I am not really divorced." Huhuhhhhh...

- "I am not exactly of legal age." Riiiight...

- "Sorry, I haven't found a dog sitter." And the damned beast kept her nose to my crotch for almost the whole date. And it had this wonderful wet and strong wet dog smell too...

- "My husband and I are a very open minded couple, would you like to meet him too?" Nooooo...

The only good thing in this whole mess is, as usual, Miss I. It seems that we are indeed in speaking terms, and I cannot help but feel deeply for her, as usual. We both have our issues, aren't leading a balanced life to say the least, but at least we can talk and share something.

How to be a bachelor at 40?

The recipe is quite simple: always put your business first. Let nothing and nobody get between you. Derive you interests from your work. Never stop. Choose a field almost entirely devoid of members of the sex you are interested in. 

Know your priorities, intentions and motivations ; and live according to them.

Easy ;-)  

ping

Sitrep

My father has been back home since Thursday and I'll go visit him tomorrow. He has very little mobility, and my mother fears she won't be able to support him.  However, he is fully himself now, no longer confused. I do observe that his mobility is getting better. My mother, seeing him more often than me, doesn't seem to perceive these slight betterments.

It seems that Miss I and I are no longer on speaking terms. A shame really.

My home office is still a mess. The situation isn't helped by the facts that I am not often there, that there is only one key and that the concierge is now working part time so asking her to keep my keys isn't an option, not even taking my unusual working hours into account. Still, the leak(s) issue seems to be solved. 

My place by the sea hasn't been repaired since last year's leak, but I am living there now. The issue was less damaging there anyway. I can live with soiled walls and not with cratered bathroom and washroom.

The good thing is that I am living 75 miles from where I am working. It means that I am commuting daily, for a total time of a little less than three hours, or as much as seven on very bad days. And this is good news indeed. It gives me time to get out of my work, think about other things, listen to music, smoke cigars and just disconnect. The down side is that I am back to four hours nights.

Talking about work (tks PS):

"I want good data,

A data model,

But I got a project straight from hell..."

Add to that the complete technical and functional ignorance of most of my coworkers, cowboy-style solution management and casino-style contracting and you will get a better idea of the whole mess.

Innsmouth

I am cursed.

Twenty years or so ago, I rented this flat near the university. It was a small cosy affair with the bed right in the middle of the room, a desk close by and a little kitchen. One night, when I was half asleep, I heard a noise coming from above, opened my eyes to see a crack forming in the ceiling and had just the time to grab a big heavy tome (fiscal law, I think) to protect my head while the ceiling descended upon me in one big piece.

That one was just bad luck, or so I said to myself then.

Ten years or so ago, I rented an apartment a few hundreds yards from my old flat. It was an old building, not really a nice place, but I wasn't there often and there was a lot of parking space nearby, thanks to the uni, so it was fine for a time.

A strange and somewhat unpleasant smell had been lingering in my toilet and bathroom for a few weeks, but I thought nothing of it: stranger things, be it sounds or odours had already come out of the common technical space, when it was not crawling things. It so appeared that my neighbour had been sent to a nursing home for a few months and had just come back to discover that the main toilet duct, common for all tenants on this side of the building, had broken in the floor between her apartment and mine. It turned out that she had fully carpeted her place. There were four apartments above hers...

In the same apartment, I came back one day after a few months abroad to discover that my kitchen's ceiling was now on the floor. And the stove. And the sinks. And the washing machine. Then I had enough of it.

My place by the sea is a nice apartment on the seaside, with a glorious view, a lot of space and the building has been well maintained and its front was in the process of being renovated when I got it. While the front was being worked on, most people took to their winter home and the concierge suffered from a heart attack. So my apartment was left unsupervised for a few months. And a leak three floors up had the time to go to the floor below mine. Now, the hall is mushroom field, the parquet is ruined, and I am still waiting to know whether or not the heating system set in the flooded technical space is still certified.

For a few years now, I have been renting the Archi's old place. It is a nice apartment. A garage. A concierge (crucial, as she can pick up my deliveries when I am not there). Somewhat recent. Top floor.

Nothing could happen there. 

If you are ignoring the Innsmouth curse, that's it.

Now, I no longer have cold water, and they are planning to blow the (parqueted) floor to check whether or not the corrosion has spread.

I am cursed.

Hospital life

So, my dad fell on the floor on the 4th of August. He is still in revalidation now, and he is not getting better. October saw a dramatic improvement, but he has been regressing since then. He was scheduled for surgery a few days ago, and even if he seems to be better, to me at least, his doctors are seeing very little progress. I have observed that he is now able to cross his legs, even if walking is still past him. He didn't receive the surgery he was scheduled to, the post op exam happened too early, and, from what I can deduce, he seems to be treated for both his stroke and Parkinson disease. The last one was supposed to have been excluded a few years ago, but perhaps was it too early by then. I can understand that treatments can be conflicting, but I have a hard time understanding why he is not treated fully. Still, he seems to be taking it all in stride, which is reassuring. He is no longer confused, and the spinal fluid drain seems to have had some very positive effects. As long as he is reasonably well, what can I say? I would like him to start accepting visits from friends, but he doesn't want them. He has been spending months with nurses and a television for company. He no longer reads much, but he is very articulate and has, surprisingly, a lot to say. 

I do not know how to end this post. No clever remark, no clear ending, even though I would very much like this situation to come to an end and close this chapter, to be able to put this behind me, not having to worry any more. Well, it is still ongoing, so I'll leave it at that.

Role models

When your role models were, and to some extent still are, Edmund Lyons, Winston Churchill, Hugh Sinclair, Hasimir Fenring, number 6 and the omega man, your very own standards can hurt you sometimes...