Dating Again?

Yes.  I’ve been dating again. It’s proof positive that I am clearly not well.  After all, my divorce isn’t even final.  Never mind that my soon-to-be (or maybe not-so-soon depending on the length of the legal battle our attorneys wage) ex hasn’t spoken to me in nearly seven months.  It’s been over half a year since he ghosted me.  If  being able to deal with being ghosted is a requirement to re-entry into the dating world, then I believe I’m as ready as anyone.  I certainly have plenty of experience there.  I’m not ready for relationship and I know it.  My reasons for “dating” are not to pursue relationship so much as it is to provide a distraction from the loneliness and pain I’m feeling about the way my marriage has disintegrated.

Alone vs. Lonely

The insomnia has returned.  I cannot for the life of me sleep past 4.5 hours.  I’m usually awake from anywhere between 2 am to 4 am.  I don’t feel particularly anxious, but I can become so when I begin thinking about my financial future…which is uncertain…at this time.  I can become even more anxious when I think of the possible financial outcomes of the divorce. Of course, anytime there is an interaction regarding the divorce (a hearing or prepping for a hearing,  or a response from the opposing attorney because there is no communicating with my husband at all) my body goes into full on fight or flight mode. My hands start shaking. My heart races. I begin feeling anxious…very anxious.

Fairy Tales and Nightmares

About two years ago, I published a post on this blog about meeting this great guy. I published a post or two a bit later about marrying that guy and leaving my life as I had known it to live with him overseas.  He worked overseas as a contractor and the plan was that I would move with him and live with him where he worked.  It was a wonderful fairy tale story except that it was real and it was happening to me. I was going to be able to fulfill a lifelong  dream of living abroad, being able to write and not have to deal with the stresses of my career. I was marrying a man I loved and who loved me.  It was going to be great.

Except…it wasn’t great.

Married Men

Ever go into a business meeting or some social event and notice how many people are married? Now, I’m not exactly looking for Mr. Right. As each day passes, I become more and more convinced that the relationship/marriage boat sailed long ago and I was probably at the airport when it did. No. I’m not looking for someone to complete me. I’m not looking for a friend to benefit with. I’m not looking to get involved in any kind of romantic relationship at all. Not only that, but I live in a location that is billed as one of the worst places in this nation to be if you are a single woman. I’m not fooling myself. The odds for me to meet up with some decent guy I’m somewhat compatible with are slim. That I might have a romantic connection with the guy reduces the odds almost 100%. Even though I’m not looking,even though I don’t really care, there are times when I look around and I notice that all the men in the room are married. I then notice that most of the women in the room are married too…except for me…and maybe one or two others. Most of the time this doesn’t bother me. I like being single and being in a room of men who are married, especially if they are happily married, means I’m not going to get hit on at the company conference. I like that. It means I can actually have a conversation with these men that focuses on something meaningful that won’t necessarily lead to the bedroom.

I feel this way, most of the time, except for the meeting I attended tonight.

How Do I Find You?

My mother used to say some things that were interesting when she told them to me as a child, but now, after her passing nearly a decade ago, I find them to be perceptive beyond belief. One of her favorite axioms was, “Most of life is boring.” She would usually say this in response to one of us kids declaring our boredom. She was unphased. “It’s life,” she’d say. “Only boring people get bored. Learn to entertain yourself, instead of relying on others to do it for you.”

My mother was right. So much of life is wash, rinse, repeat.

I get up, drag myself out of bed, and fumble my way to the shower. I go through my days doing mostly stuff that pertains to making sure my kids and I have a roof over our heads, food in the fridge, electricity and heat, and a vehicle to get us to and fro. My weekend activities don’t vary much. I’m a bit of a cyclist and spend lots of time out on my bike. I tend to go to the same places to eat and socialize. I have fun, but it isn’t a constantly changing menu of activities and events.

Today, or rather, yesterday, I got up and decided I would drive my fancy new-to-me car to a small trendy town nearby and have breakfast at a lovely little place that is always packed and has delicious, melt-in-your-mouth menu items. I went alone. I usually go alone. I like to go alone. I’m really okay with this most of the time, but lately, maybe due to the car wreck with my kid, maybe due to the fact that everyone else around me seems to be having success in the relational field, maybe because I’m just tired of being alone all.the.time. Most of the time I don’t mind being alone, but lately I’ve stopped going out and doing things, because I was getting tired of doing the alone thing. Today, I didn’t care. I wanted to have breakfast at a nice place. I wanted to drive in my car. I didn’t necessarily want to have to be responsible for holding up my end of a conversation, but I somehow, strangely wanted to immerse myself in a crowd of people and noise, and fragrances and life. So, I went out to breakfast.

Shiny New Thing

I was supposed to hear from the car dealership on Friday about when I could expect my new car to be delivered. I heard nothing, so I figured I’d have to get up and be ready. I knew the local rental agency opened at 9:00 a.m., and I certainly hoped I wouldn’t be spending another day waiting around. Waiting around, especially the kind of waiting around that preempts everything and anything else one might want to do, is not the kind of thing I do well.

The Evolution of Dating

The entire dating thing confuses me. Does it confuse anyone else, I wonder? I am not asking this question hypothetically. I really do wonder if anyone else is as confused by the societal process for selecting a sex partner, significant other, companion or soul mate that we in the United States refer to as dating. It has me stumped.

Coffee Finance

Back in 2009, I was dating this guy who influenced me tremendously. Things didn’t work out with us. He had issues with aging and was interested in women 20 (or more) years younger than he was. I was only 12 years younger, so while we had fun for a while, his time with me was sure to end. Other than this, he was a decent guy, employed, funny, intelligent, a writer with a day job.

He lived in a home that he and his brother built. It was one of those Adair homes. He’d gone through a bankruptcy after his divorce and had downsized from a rather large multi-storied craftsman home to this smaller ranch-style Adair home. He tended to be a bit anal about keeping things clean and orderly. Everything was perfectly tidy and ordered. His home definitely did not look like the typical bachelor pad. I remember thinking that I loved the place.

Musings of A Belated Christmas

Today, or yesterday, since I’m writing this in the middle of the night after which these events occurred, was Christmas for my little clan. It happens this way every other year. It is the way of the Broken Marriage. It is the way of The Divorced. My kids have all returned from their other homes. They unloaded, drug their things in, and sprawled out filling every open space in my once empty house. The noise level is unbearably loud, with all four voices often vying to be heard by notching up the sound meter higher, and higher. We are not a quiet family. Apartment life would not work at all for us. Whether, calling up to a child from downstairs or re-telling the latest events that happened while they were gone, the noise is never quiet. Or, it never was, until yesterday.

My secret to success?

Joy

Ever notice how we human beings have ways of marking the passage of time? Sure, we have our calendars, our reminders, our clocks and gizmos. I’m talking about the not-so-obvious ways of marking time. The methods which mark time in subtle ways that leave you realizing after the fact how time has passed rather than noting it up front.

I am not a winter person. I like cool weather but I’m really a sunny, summer person. I mark my years mostly by noting the passage of the seasons. The months from January to the end of March are dreadful for me. In the region where I live winters are relatively mild, but temperatures can vary from a balmy 60 degrees one day to snowing and freezing levels the next. I find this pretty tough on my system. I’m always glad when Daylight Saving Time arrives. Even though I lose an hour, I can see that summer is on the way, and with it, some more consistent temperatures.