Does size really matter?

It is the age old question. Men ask, women hedge. No one can seem to answer and look directly in your eyes as they do. But We have all realized that there are very few limits on what I will share here. So I’m just going to say it. Yes. I DO prefer for a man to be taller than me. Now it’s out in the open.

What? What did you think I meant? Pervs.

Back to the subject at hand. This is very timely for me right now as I have recently been out with a man who is exactly my height. Now, let me be straight with you. I am not a tall woman. I’m definitely not a midget, nor do I get regularly mistaken for one of the wee folk. But I am not tall. And not being tall has served me well. I may need a step stool to get things out of my own kitchen cupboards, but at least 95% of the male population of the world is taller than me. That makes dating automatically easier than if I were say 4″ taller than I am. The point here is that being taller than me is no great feat. It’s common. And while I like my men to be on the tall side, I will usually settle for simply taller than me.

So it was with great trepidation that I accepted a date with a man who is exactly my height. He was totally up front about the height situation. There were no surprises and no exaggerations. He was exactly as advertised and right on eye level with me. Truthfully, I was kind of glad to sit down over a meal where the situation was less obvious.

Being on a date with a shorter dude is a study in ignoring the tiny elephant in the room. We did not talk about it. In fact, there was almost no mention of such things. Right up until I started avidly describing a situation in which I feel like a tiny little midget. Usually this tale is greeted with lots of laughter. Instead I got a weird look, an awkward silence, and a tiny “I know.” Ooops.

Still, I would like you to know I was open minded. We actually had a nice date and great conversation. I believe we may actually go out again. I suppose it’s a really good thing I don’t care for high heeled shoes very much.

But I would like to know, dear readers, what it comes to the issue of size…. I mean height… where do you stand?

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There’s things I remember and things I forget

I remember the first would be anniversary that passed after each of my divorces. It was a wistful time where I thought over what had happened and maybe cried a little. It was a painful reminder of failure. and I knew, I just knew that that date would forever be a struggle for me. I would always remember.

Today when I woke up, it was Tuesday morning. My first day back to work this week. I was tired, getting out of bed was a struggle as always. I started thinking about what I needed to get done at work as I did my hair. It was the same as every other morning. I had the news on in the background and heard them announce the date and time. That stopped me for a moment…. the date was familiar. Was I supposed to do something today? I checked the calendar but there were no appointments or plans. Maybe it was a meeting at work? I decided to check that calendar too when I got into the office, then I pushed the nagging feeling aside and finished getting ready for work.

It wasn’t until I was in the car and halfway to work that I realized what it was. This was my would be wedding anniversary. As in, it would be if I were still married, which I’m not. (Now my anti-versary, according to GoodbyeGal.) It is the second time this date has passed since the divorce. Last year I reflected on the divorce and the angst and the pain. I knew I’d never forget. Except this year, I did just that.

I totally forgot. When I finally remembered, it didn’t even matter. I rolled it around in my mind and my heart and tried to feel something, but I didn’t. Nothing. Not love, not hate, not regret. No wistful memories or angry recollections. No bitterness. Just… nothing. And I wondered, is this normal?

Is it normal to forget? Does it eventually just blend into another day, a non-event? Is it possible that this day that was once the happiest day I’d ever known had turned into a nothing? Am I broken somehow because it no longer matters? Am I heartless? Or just forgetful? Or is it healthy that the significance and all related feelings are gone?

My mother always said the opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference. I pondered this for a while and then tried to think about the anti-versary of my first wedding. And I can’t even remember the date. Is this what it means to be over something?

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Single Again

When you were a child, you had dreams. Maybe you dreamed of some great career. Maybe you dreamed of getting married and having kids. Maybe you dreamed of being tall enough to reach the cookie jar. The possibilities are endless. But I can almost guarantee you did NOT dream of growing up and being divorced one day.

I think we can all agree that divorce wasn’t in anyone’s grand plan. It’s not something you aspire to, or even something you’re particularly proud of. And in most situations, it’s something you’d simply rather not tell people. I mean, it truly is rarely relevant.

So why then does every form which collects any demographic information feel otherwise? Ever since my divorce, I’ve discovered that most every form I fill out wants to know if I’m single, married, widowed, or divorced. And I have yet to figure out why. I mean, why does my doctor need to know this? Does it affect my health? Am I, as a divorced woman, likely to catch some exotic disease that a single woman is immune to? Or what about getting a car loan… is my salary suddenly more or less green if I’m divorced versus never married at all?

What is the difference between that divorced checkbox and the single checkbox in the first place? I am not married, therefore I am single. Do you really need to know why? And if so, where is the checkbox for “Has an annoying loud laugh” or perhaps in my case, “Is quite stubborn”? Surely that is every bit as relevant to the mole on back as my divorce is when I’m at the dermatologist’s office. Which is, to say, not at all.

I say there is no difference. If we are not married, we are single. Period. Full stop. And I’m staging an uprising of the no-longer-marrieds everywhere. That’s right, I’m calling for us to band together against this mutual cause. There is no need to be branded forever as divorced. We may not be married, but we are certainly single. We are single… again!

Here is what you do. Refuse to check the box. I’m serious now, the revolt is just that simple. Refuse to check the box. The next time you fill out a form in the doctor’s office, or a survey to win that free car, remember that you are single… again. You are no different than the never married. You are every bit as single as they are! Refuse to be branded by your past. Reclaim your dignity! Check the “single” box.

If we band together to make this point, the divorced box will fall out of vogue. It’s basic darwinism. We will evolve forms and soceity’s minds to stop branding us as anything other than the very basic “single” that we are. They will be forced to remove the checkbox and stop creating a new demographic category for us. We can re-enter society with our collective head held high. We can be single….. again!

Who’s with me?

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Why Facebook is the devil

We all have Facebook pages these days right? Of course we do. Because we’re hip, and savvy, and whatever other cool word means in touch with the online universe these days. It’s kind of fun sometimes. You know, I get to poke my friends, write annoying stuff on their walls, send them weird gifts, and answer stupid quizzes. So what’s wrong with that, right?

Well as I use it, more and more friends from high school and college are finding me and adding me as friends. So here are these people who didn’t bother to keep in touch who are now fake-interested in my life and where it’s been. Okay, so that doesn’t really annoy me all that much either. I mean, sure they didn’t keep in touch all along but then neither did I. And reconnecting is kind of cool in a dorky lets-say-we’ll-keep-in-touch-now-but-really-not sort of way. So again, what’s my problem right?

Here’s my problem. Every interaction invariably goes roughly like this:

Old friend: Hi Jane! It’s been so long! What have you been up to?

Me: Oh, you know, nothing much. Living in Baltimore, working in my office, going out with friends. It’s a good life. How about you?

Old Friend: I’m great! Been married for [insert amount of time here]. We [ (circle one) have kids, are pregnant, are looking to adopt, are starting to try for children]. Hey, didn’t you marry First Husband? Whatever happened to that? Do you have kids?

And this is where it has obviously all gone to hell.My profile clearly says I’m single… can’t you just add two and two and come up with the fact that I’m divorced? I mean, that really is four in this equation. And knowing that, did you really need to ask about kids? I mean, sure I could have had them, but aren’t you trodding into delicate territory now? Did I respond and ask you why you have to adopt instead of having your own children? No? Wanna know why? Because it’s tactless, that’s why! And maybe, just maybe, you don’t want to have a personal discussion like that with a virtual stranger. When did it become acceptable to get in touch with someone you barely ever even knew and start rapid firing sensitive questions? I mean, seriously. I haven’t even spoken to these people in roughly ten years, and now you want to ask all of this?

I want to know where all the other divorced folks are hiding? Where are my college friends who didn’t have babies and couldn’t make things work? You know where they are? Because I have an idea. They’re hiding from this nonsense! They are tired of being attacked with questions and barraged with their coupled up acquaintances’ perfect little lives. They secretly think you all are hiding something anyway, we all do. But they have decided they are tired of feeling like circus freaks for living alone with their cats.

The worst part is after that conversation with old friend. After you have revealed the big bad divorce thing and your childless state. After you have tried to explain what a grand time you are having living alone and going out with your friends for booze on a regular basis. After all of that, where you have put on a happy face and smiled and jollied it up, hoping they’ll see that your life is cool too.

Because after all of that, they say they’re sorry. Sorry? Seriously? Because I’m not! I mean, old friend, I am happy that you are coupled and living the good life. I do not look down on that. I do not apologize to you because you are looking to adopt. I am not sorry for you. So save your sorries for me too, ok? I mean, I’m not sorry at all. I could still be married to that loser, you know? I could still be miserable every day of my life because I woke up next to him. But I’m not! I’m going out for happy hour on the spur of the moment because I’m not pregnant and I don’t have to ask anyone’s permission first. I’m doing what I want when I want without worrying about what someone else might think or feel about it. I’m going to the bathroom with the door open, dammit. My life is pretty freaking grand.

At least, I had myself convinced of that until 20 of you with your husbands and families got in touch with me just now. Now I’m just feeling a little weird. But it would certainly help if all of you hadn’t been sorry for me, you know?

Right. Damn Facebook.

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Retro Boy – The Letdown

This is a nice yet firm way to say no to a person…. right?

“…Anyway, I want to be straight with you. You are a nice guy, and you certainly win points for being the most persistent person I’ve gone on a date with in the past year. But unfortunately, I’m not going to change my mind on this one. I really do wish you all the best in your journey. You certainly deserve no less. …”

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Retro Boy – Part 3

After I told Retro Boy no for the second time and he disappeared, I was certain we were done. It was a funny story so I told my friends. We all had a laugh. But that was that. Or so I thought.

What I seriously did not see coming is that Retro Boy would reappear yet again in another six months. Which is to say he emailed me just a week or so ago. A full year and two rejections after our one date, Retro Boy is back.

As soon as the email came, I knew what was going to happen. I immediately started thinking of what I could say to tell him no and make it final. Unfortunately, I have yet to figure that out. As always, he started with small talk. He has a new job. He’s moved into his own place and is enjoying the freedom. (It’s about time, dammit.) He is happy.  Then it happened.

It was an innocent conversation about our jobs. My job satisfaction is low at the moment. He seems to be enjoying his job. He says it’s fine for now, but he knows God has more for him. Please insert inner groan. I have nothing against religion or God or whatever else it is you might believe in. But for me, that’s something that isn’t really discussed, especially not with what basically amounts to a stranger. So here is an email telling me about how free and great his life is and talking all about what he believes in.

And at the end, in a tiny little PS, there it is. The question. He asked me out again.

He tries my patience. I want to be nice to him as he is obviously a nice person who deserves no less. But I’m not sure how I can be nice and still firmly tell him that this just isn’t ever going to happen. Seriously. Not going out with him. Not now, not in six more months, not freaking ever. Just not.

I’m taking suggestions.

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