Letter to Someone

I still think of you. I know I shouldn’t, but I do. Sometimes it sneaks up on me in the night, sometimes in the unexpected bright light of day. It shouldn’t matter anymore, you know. You don’t belong here now. And yet sometimes, there you still are.

Sometimes I let myself daydream about what might have happened. If everything were different, if it had worked out. If we were a we instead of just you and me. But you and me, we’re not those things. We are nothing instead. Sometimes that still makes me sad.

I thought about visiting you. About popping up in your life. About seeing what might happen if we saw each other again. I considered it. I still know how to find you, you know. But I won’t. I understand now. I understand that it was never going to be. I understand that there was nothing I could have said or done. I understand that that ending, that thing I never comprehended… it was always going to be. You told me it wasn’t, but I know you weren’t honest. I bet you know it too. But I’ll never ask.

I wonder if you still think of me too. But these days I am sure you don’t. The time that has passed tells me that. There are no thoughts left for me. There never were. Each increment of time whispers it to my subconscious. You never really wanted me. The hard truth. And yet, there it is… the lesson time has taught. You never really wanted me.

Otherwise, things would be different. But they are not.

-Jane

Note - This letter could be to any number of people. I will admit it was inspired in my mind this morning by one, but is not meant as direct communication to anyone.

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?

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?

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?

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.

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. …”

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.

Retro Boy - Part 2

After I turned down Retro Boy, he responded nicely and we parted ways. Honestly, I didn’t think of it again. Over the coming months I had other dates and a lot of personal change and I really did completely forget about him.

Until six months later when he emailed me out of the blue.

As I said before, he is a genuinely nice guy. I didn’t blow him off maliciously or harbor any ill will for him. He didn’t do anything nasty. So when he dropped me a line, I was nice right back. There was no reason not to be. We had parted on good terms, and he already knew I wasn’t interested in dating him. I figured it was an odd but friendly hello. And for a while, it was.

We chatted about our lives, I told him I had moved recently. It was nice. Just as I was starting to wonder exactly where he was going with all of this random small talk, he stepped up and told me. Or rather, he asked me out again.

Let me restate that in case you missed it. We went on one date. I turned him down for future dates. He disappeared. Six months later he reappeared and asked me out again out of the blue. Right. Just making sure you got that.

I was floored. I still didn’t want to go out with him, but that was a brand new maneuver I’d never seen anyone pull before. I sat on the email for longer than usual before replying. As I always was with him, I was polite. But I told him nothing had changed for me and I still wasn’t interested. And I waited to see what would happen.

What happened was exactly nothing. He fell silent and didn’t email again. I shrugged it off and assumed that was that. I felt a little bad that I had to reject him again, but giving him false hope seemed worse. I had done the right thing. Hopefully he was off finding a date with someone who thought he was the bee’s knees. And so I forgot about it again.

That was almost exactly six months ago. And there is a very good reason I remembered this story just recently. A reason I will surely give you…. tomorrow.

Retro Boy

You know what? We haven’t had story time in a while. So let me tell you a story. This tale takes us back to over a year ago when I was just starting to seriously want to date again. This story is about RetroBoy.

RetroBoy earned his name up front from the pictures he posted on Plenty of Fish. He was neither attractive nor unattractive, but he had a Hawaiian shirt, Buddy holly glasses, lava lamp in the background kind of retro thing going on. It was a little endearing. Enough, at least to make me answer him when he emailed me.

As emailing went on, I made a classic mistake. He was silly and made me laugh. He signed off his emails with funny little rhymes like “Toodles Noodles” that made me laugh. When he realized I was amused, he would come up with a new one every time. I started to get excited about going out with him. I was looking forward to a date.

We all know that never ends well, right? Finally we managed to schedule a time to meet. I continued to look forward to the date and to think positive things. He continued to say things like “Later Tater” and me me giggle. All was well. Until, of course, the date.

Reality is rarely as good as hope would like us to believe. From the moment I spotted Retro Boy, I knew we were in trouble. First of all, he was skinny. Not thin, but skinny. Truth be told, even thin is not my thing, but skinny is rarely anyone’s. And this guy was skinny. He was all legs and arms and overly large hands, but no real substance. And his hair was not the retro gelled look I thought from his picture. Instead it was rather thin and oddly fuzzy. Still, I smiled and went into the restaurant with him.

He was also very soft-spoken. I learned that next as I kept having to lean over the table to hear him. We were in a crowded restaurant and his voice did not carry over the noise, despite the fact he was sitting right across from me. Despite this, he seemed to find joy in the smallest things. Retro Boy was obviously a very positive and mostly happy person. It was refreshing, but not necessarily what I wanted to find next to me in bed, you know? Unfortunately the remainder of the conversation did not work in his favor. Although he wouldn’t come out and say it directly, I learned that at 37, Retro Boy still lived with his mother. And it appeared to be due to the lack of money to live elsewhere. Oh yeah, this was just getting worse and worse. I obviously already knew that it was a first and last date with Retro Boy for me.

Still, the fact remains that this was an exceedingly nice man, and I didn’t want to be rude. So I made polite conversation, tried to pay for my dinner (which he didn’t let me do) and let him walk me to the car. When we got there I gave him a quick hug and headed off. Then I waited.

Because every One Date Wonder knows that what you do next is wait for the other person to show their hand. Especially in dating situations where you know you’re just not that into them, the next logical manuever is to wait for the other person to make a move. This is because the other person may also not be feeling it. The whole thing could conceivably die a natural death without the sort of painful gasping that having to explain you’re not interested may cause. So you wait. The other person may simply never contact you again, or may also express a disinterest. In those cases, you don’t need to take action or do anything painful. You can just accept their action and move on. Of course, sometimes they will express a continued interest, in which case you do indeed have to take action. Such was the case with Retro Boy.

A day or so later, I had an email from Retro Boy telling me it was the best date he’d been on in ages, he had a great time, and he wanted to do it again. I was out of town at the time, which he knew, so I had a small window to assemble some kind of reason why that wouldn’t happen. I thought and thought, but the bottom line is that despite my lack of interest, this was a genuinely good person and I didn’t want to hurt him. So I fed him some vague nonsense that did not specifically state that I would never be attracted to him. He said ok, and it was worth a try, and our email exchange ended. I promptly wrote off Retro Boy and went about my life.

Until six months later when I heard from him again. But that’s a story for tomorrow.

Do you believe?

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the chances we get in life, and specifically love. As someone who is twice divorced, this is a hot topic for me and one that I’ve thought about very differently over the years.

When I was young, I believed in one soulmate. That there was this one person out there who was your perfect match. The logistics of you never running into them never occurred to me. There was this soulmate and eventually I would meet him. We would just know, and we would hold on to each other. Then we would live out our lives like a Disney movie…. happily ever after. When I met my first husband, I believed he was it. We had the deep instant connection. He wasn’t afraid of being with me or committing to me. Everything was wonderful. Until I got divorced.

After that I was faced with the downfall of my belief system. After all, if this had been my one soulmate, then I was doomed right? But I was still young and full of hope. And so I chose to believe that I wasn’t doomed yet. But I was soured on the idea of a soulmate. I moved on to believing there were lots of people you could work with, you just had to find the right one. And my ever optimistic heart met husband number two and believed he was that right one. I believed we were going to make happiness and grow old together. Everything was wonderful. Until I got divorced again.

After that I was much less optimistic. At first I was determined to learn to stand on my own two feet. Having spent over a decade either married or in a serious relationship, I no longer knew how to be alone. In fact, I probably never knew. So I was going to learn. And that was my main focus. Gradually, I realized I had that part under control and the problem became that I no longer blindly believed there was someone out there for me. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t sure that I would ever find someone else to love. I was no longer confident that I wouldn’t die alone. I was no longer sure.

Experience has not served me well on that. Instead I am learning not to hope and not to believe. And while that may save me from short term heartbreak, sometimes I wonder at the long term implications of such a belief system. Once or twice I have even forced myself to abandon negativity, unfortunately only to be reminded of why I adopted those attitudes in the first place. And so I find myself in a somewhat jaded place and unsure of what to believe anymore. It’s the first time in my life that I’ve looked at love without conviction.

Since I’m not sure anymore, I’m wondering what all of you believe. Do you believe in soulmates? In love at first sight? In things being meant to be? Do you have conviction that there is someone out there for everyone? That we will find these people? Or have you given up? Are you unsure too? What do you believe?