Not Fair
Apparently I am not as cool as I wish I was. I mean, I thought I was cool. I was calm. I didn’t lose my head or anything. I am so over this, right? Oh sure. And that’s why one of my closest friends pointed out to me this weekend that I have told her my ex is engaged every single time I’ve seen her since it happened.
That’s right, my ex is engaged. And I’m not taking it well.
It doesn’t seem fair, you know? I have two ex-husbands now. Two of them. Not to imply that I’m a perfect angel, because I’m not. But both of them did something pretty terrible to me. So it seems like in some karmic way I should come out on top, right? Of course.
Except ex #1 is married to the girl he slept with while we were married and they have a son now. And ex #2 has hauled off and gotten engaged to the girl he was dating while he was trying to get me back. And what of me? That’s right, I’m living alone without a boyfriend or even a cat.
Singlegal reminded me today that I’m not the only one. That I’m normal. But that doesn’t stop me from joining her in her virtual temper tantrum. Or from thinking that it’s simply not fair.
I was the one who was wronged. I was the one who was hurt. I was the one who did the right thing. And I’m the only one who’s still alone. So you see, it isn’t fair. It isn’t fair that I’m also the one who goes to bed alone every night. That I’m the one who is starved for human touch. That I’m the one who still cries themself to sleep some nights. That I’m the one who is starting to think I’m meant to be alone and never meant to have children.
Ironically, I don’t want either of these men. I am happier without them, and that’s not a line. I don’t regret leaving in either case. I’m not sorry.
But still, it’s not fair. And I want to be over it. I want to be ok with this, but I’m not. I’m not fine. I’m not cool. And I haven’t been able to let go yet. And that makes me angrier than their newborn son or their engagement announcement. The fact that I can’t let go is what weighs on me now. I want to be over it. I want to be done. So why aren’t I?
Yesterday as I laid down for a nap I dreamed of ex #2. I dreamed he sent me pictures of his new apartment with his new fiancee. I dreamed he told me how he was doing things right with her even though he didn’t with me. Then, in my dream, I somehow let myself in while they weren’t home, and looked around. It was a beautiful place. What I might have wanted with him once upon a time. And just as I went to leave, he came home. I ran and hid and then abruptly woke up with my heart pounding.
I wish I were a bigger person than this, but apparently I’m not. I wish I were over this, but apparently I’m not. I wish I were better than this, but apparently I’m not.
And sometimes, life just isn’t fair.
Filed under confession, ex-husband | Comments (11)This one’s for the boys
Today I would like to abandon all obsessing about boys past, present, and future, and instead discuss something very serious. Indeed, the topic I have in mind is one that weighs on me heavily, as it does on many of my peers I am sure. I am talking, of course, about nature’s cruelest joke of all… the unsynchronized nature of men’s and women’s sex drives.
Boys, if you will… imagine yourself at 18 or 20. You were probably pawing madly at whatever girl you were with at the time. Your nearly every thought was consumed by the devil in your pants. It clouded your vision basically all the time. It would be easier to discuss the times you were not thinking about, plotting, or wishing for sex. Because the times you weren’t, well… they were few and far between if they existed at all. And that girl, the one who was the object of your lusty affections? Was probably wondering why the hell you couldn’t just keep your damn hands off her already. And by the way, don’t you ever think about anything else? (The answer, for the record, was no. No you didn’t. But you probably tried to lie about it anyway.) The point was, we totally didn’t get it.
I’ll admit to my part in this little drama. I was that girl. I mean sure, we liked all that stuff. But we wanted to not always be naked and grabbing at each other, you know? We wanted to feel like more to you. And it’s not like we never gave it up. We just didn’t do it as much as you apparently wanted us to. And we really didn’t know why on earth you were behaving like that anyhow.
That is, until we turned 30. Most men at this age have gotten some degree control over their trouser snakes and are living a more balanced existence. And hooray for you. Our 18-year-old selves are pleased as punch. Unfortunately our 30-year-old selves really wish you’d take off your pants and make yourself useful. I mean, don’t get me wrong here. We love that you take us out for nice dinners and really enjoy spending time with us. We totally realize that you see us as whole people now and appreciate who we are. But, you know, we really kind of wish you could do all that while naked and on top of us too please.
Ironically, at 30 most of you are a bit less amused by the idea of going at it three times a day*. A couple times a week would do you just fine. And you wish we’d see you for more than a thrill ride and really appreciate who you are as a person. We, on the other hand, spent years evaluating who you are. We are glad we took that time too. I mean, we’re still totally interested in that. But there’s no reason we can’t learn still more about you while also separating you from those pesky boxer briefs that seem to always be in the way. And if you need a break in that area, we totally understand. But, you know, there are other ways to meet our needs. Just ask… we’d be glad to make a list for you.
Men, I’d like you to know that we are deeply sorry about how we acted when you were 18. Truly we are. It wasn’t actually our fault though. You see, nature has a cruel sense of humor. Back then, we didn’t know what it was like, and nature just totally failed us on that front. With every birthday I start to think she’s actually kind of a cruel bitch with one twisted sense of humor. But that aside, most of us are more than willing to atone for our former sins. All you need to do to receive our apology is… well… to take off your pants. I promise, it’ll totally be worth your while. I mean, some things really do improve with age. And for the right man? I’m more than happy to demonstrate.
* If you actually still do want it three times a day? Please send your number. I know someone who would love to meet you.
Filed under confession | Comments (13)Confession of an Increasingly Mis-named One Date Wonder
I have a confession. You see, it’s not that I don’t want to be half of a couple. I still do. I miss that kind of security and safety and I definitely miss the human contact. And no, this is not all about the sexy time… I just mean the, you know, contact. But these days whenever I get even slightly close to the R-word, part of me completely wigs out.
Here is how it goes down. Boy makes it clear he wants to be with me. The right boy in the right way. Roughly three quarters of my cold black heart turns into happy mush. But not all of it. No no, one quarter of my heart manages to shrivel up even further (who knew that was even possible?). That one quarter riots and fights. It stages a full on mutiny . And it starts to infect the happy mushy three quarters. The longer I’m left alone the worse it gets. And this is even before any talk of long term commitment has been brought to the table!
This is how I imagine I’m protecting myself. By always holding partly back. By not completely letting go. And yes, I know… by sabotaging chances at happiness. This is how I rightfully earn my self-deemed title of One Date Wonder. I find reasons to run before I even have anything to run from. It’s what I do.
There is a whole page full of reasons why LC and I are really kind of good together. They are based on the real things that women always tell you they want in a man. They are not just what shows up on paper but the other stuff too. The intangibles that never make anyone’s list. But if I’m left alone long enough, I will come up with a page full of reasons why I need to run too. Ranging from the fact that my inseam is longer than his (inconsequential) to the fact that I don’t want to be a rebound girl (totally consequential).
So right now I’m trying to turn a new leaf by staring down that black twisty piece of my heart. That’s right, I see you over there in the corner. Trying to infect my chances at happiness. And while I recognize that there is some truth in what you say… I could very well get hurt again… I also recognize that with no risk comes no reward. So I’m going to let this guy flirt with me. And we’ll just see how it goes, ok? Ok then.
I’m totally serious about the inseam though.
Filed under confession, lucky charms | Comments (6)It’s Over
It is time for a confession.
I have an incredible soft spot for anyone who can sing. Looks are secondary, personality is even somewhat secondary. Just….. sing to me.
Having said that, you will still surely judge me for this next confession. Still, I can’t help myself. It’s true. And since you don’t actually know who I am, I feel safe telling you this.
Once upon a time, in a far away place….. Clay Aiken was my secret boyfriend. So secret in fact, that he was unaware of the situation. We were happy for a time you see. Until tonight.
Dude is in Spamalot. And he’s BLONDE. Our relationship had its ups and downs, and we’d been struggling lately since he’d been so quiet. But after this revelation, I had to break up with him. I’m sorry to say, he may never recover.
In fact, I predict he will turn to men now, as I have clearly ruined him for all other women. That is all.
Filed under break up, confession | Comments (6)Without a Fight
Now I see it again…. the consequences of two divorces and 30 years of failed relationships. What happens when you don’t have a single good example to look to in your life. The natural reaction of someone who has watched all of her friends settle into happiness while all she could ever settle into were some broken dreams.
It’s not that my life is so bleak. It’s not that I’m so unhappy now. I mean, I’m aware of what’s missing, but I’m grateful for what I’ve started to build too. I have finally reached a place where I feel whole again. Where I feel ready to find someone else to build with too.
And yet. The bottom line. The one consequence I can never seem to outrun, is this: When someone says they would like something long term and committed? I panic. I start looking for reasons why I should run. I race for the exit and get my hand on the door before I can even slow myself back down again.
What is wrong with me? If I am finally face to face with what I want, why do I do this? I once had a friend chastise me for planning a breakup before I even had something to properly break up. We were talking about Mr. Big in fact, and I was telling her all of the reasons why I should never put stock in a relationship with him. (A notion that seems increasingly intelligent, by the way.) Why it would never be, and how I would have to leave in the end. And she interrupted me and told me to stop planning my break up before the relationship even started. To stop looking for the exit.
I don’t think it’s necessarily about the combination of me and the man in this situation. I think it’s about all me. I think it’s the reason I continue to meet men who don’t want to commit. Not because I’m repellent, but because subconsciously I am making a decision of some sort. I want to be committed, but something in me is still so very scared.
This is all navel-gazing for me at the moment. There is no man offering me commitment. But it’s something I have been realizing for a while and that was brought into sharp relief by that brush with Mr. Big this week. This morning I am just trying to stomp down the irrational panic. The fear of another breakup that looms before I even have a chance to just be happy for a bit. The tiny voice in my head that can sometimes be such a roar.
One of my new favorite artists is Edie Carey. This is from her album Another Kind of Fire and you should totally check her out. And while you’re at it, check out the lyrics below. I feel like maybe she has been in my head for a while. It’s eerie.
WITHOUT A FIGHT:
How do you do it?
I don’t get it
How you get so angry
And then just forget it
How forgiveness comes so easy to you
Maybe I’m just crazy
How I get so shaky
But what if happy just means lazy?
What if leaving is the only thing
I know how to do?
When will I learn
It doesn’t have to burn to feel good again?
I wanna know how to love you right
Without a fight
So I flirt with freedom
Think “maybe I don’t need him”
I’ve been saving up my reasons
Why I’m gonna break this little silver thread
Watch me go off the deep end
Smash the dishes again
Throw the suitcase on the bed
I’m just a hurricane of appetite
And empty threats
When will I learn
It doesn’t have to burn to feel good again?
I wanna know how to love you right
Without a fight
But the farthest I can get
Is one hand on the door
It looks so much like passion
And it hurts sweet like love
I think I’m finally understood, finally…
Without a fight, without a fight
Filed under Uncategorized, confession | Comments (2)Drive Me Crazy
Okay, so I spend a lot of time poking fun at the ridiculous things men do on these online dating sites. Today I will poke fun at myself in the name of women everywhere. The question is, why oh why must we over-analyze everything?
A guy looks me in the eye and tells me what his deal is. This happens to me often because I have a nasty habit of just asking or pressing the situation so I can find this little bit of information out. Maybe he tells me it’s just about the sex. Or maybe he says he’s just looking for friends right now. But the point is, I asked and he answered. That should be a pretty straightforward transaction, right?
Then why oh why must I constantly second guess him? Here is a little picture of what goes through my mind:
If he just wants to be friends, then why is he rubbing my shoulders like that? That’s not a very friendly signal. Only guys who are flirting rub shoulders. And, you know, he hugs me every time we see each other. And he does a lot of casual touching. Maybe he’s just a touchy feely kind of guy and he’s just comfortable with me because we’re buds. Or maybe he really meant right now and right now is over and he wants more. You know, this shoulder rub feels really nice, let me tell him. Oooooooh…. now he’s doing it more. That’s nice. This is definitely not friendly. Or is it?
See? see what I did there? I’ll tell you what I did there. I drove myself nuts by not taking what he said at absolute face value. I know that is a dumb chick thing to do. So then why can I not seem to stop myself?
Or am I on to something??? (SEE???)
Filed under confession, friend | Comments (3)A Real Confession
You know, it’s easy to be flip and cheeky about dating do’s and don’ts and the funny things that happen out there. There is a lot to poke at, to be sure. But sometimes, even a One Date Wonder (or especially one) can get a bit melancholy about the whole thing.
As a single gal in my 30s, sometimes the whole thing is just scary. I mean, I have a good life. I have a stable job, a great apartment, and I can afford what I need and most of what I want in life. I have a supportive network of fabulous family and friends who I thank my lucky stars for every single day. But every single day when I’m doing that? I’m alone.
The truth is that I hate going to bed alone night after night. I could be flip about sex here, but that’s not what I mean. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life dating and coming home at night to a cat and an empty bed. I want to share my life with someone. And even this sarcastic chick doesn’t want to be alone.
I joke about not settling and not sacrificing, and it’s true that I’m picky. I’m scared of repeating the disaster of divorce. If I ever try to settle down again, I want to be sure it will last. I want to be sure I’m not making the same mistakes I’ve made in the past. I want to be sure my future won’t hold another painful split up. So I’m selective. I’m easily turned off. I’m fast to run away. I’m protective of my heart and my life. And it’s easy to make that funny, but maybe it’s not as entertaining when you see it this way.
The thing you rarely see and that I’ll rarely share is that sometimes I cry myself to sleep. I cry because my life wasn’t supposed to be this way. And I cry because I’m afraid this may be all I ever have. And while I know that if this life is the best it gets than I’m pretty damn lucky, I still feel just a little sad and empty inside.
Go figure, even a notorious One Date Wonder has feelings and dreams. And some days I think it might just be easier if I didn’t.
Filed under confession | Comments (2)
