Early on, after my divorce, I figured I was racing the clock. You know, trying to beat that date on the calendar that somehow says you are now too old to be putting a profile up online. What that date is specifically, I don’t know. After a solid three years of meetups and a few relationships that lasted about 3 months before I was able to discern that, no matter what he said to me, he just really wasn’t that into me. Then there was this one relationship that I somehow completely missed the clues that he just wasn’t into me. Two years later, he’s disappeared into thin air and I haven’t heard a word from him since he left seven months ago. As I look back on it now, there were plenty of signs that he wasn’t as fully vested in the relationship as he said he was. Actions speak louder than words. I didn’t like the actions. Specifically, I didn’t like how they betrayed his words. I think I hung in there because I just didn’t want to admit that I had made another bad judgement call…again. I hung on when I should have let go. I was foolish.
So, go figure. My finances suck. We’ve been over that. My love life is non-existent. I just had a guy I supported walk out on me after two years. He gave me three days’ notice and he was gone. Haven’t heard a word from him since. After my two epic fails at marriage, I don’t know which hurt worse, to have the marriages end, or him walk out after I invested so much financially and emotionally for two.fucking.years. It is now all water under the bridge, but at times, it still stings.
I’m at an age and in a demographic where there isn’t much dating action, and if there is, it isn’t serious, nor is it even remotely authentic. Face it, after 45, there are so many obstacles to overcome, so much history to wade through, so many people’s scrutiny you have to undergo before a relationship can even be viable, let alone long term. I’ve given up on that area of my life ever being a source of pleasure or happiness. People who really know me, will know what a big deal that is. Most people tend to understand that it is the nature of the beast these days. Dating after divorce is, at best, a difficult thing, and unlike wine, this does not improve with age. Oh, to be 35 again. Before the wrinkles. Before the mistakes. Before the calendar reveals the stigmatizing number of years you’ve been on this planet (because you cannot lie about that).
In spite of all that, the little surprise I’m experiencing is this: I’m actually having fun. I’m enjoying life more than I ever have. I’m happy, in spite of the fact that nothing (except my delightful children) is as I would have expected it and most of it reeks of pathetically miserable failure. I can’t keep a relationship. I can’t catch a break financially. I rent, on purpose, instead of owning. My car is ready to self destruct at any moment. I should sell the thing and try, if possible, to get some money out of it to put down on a more reliable car. But…how to do that? It’s crazy. I have more problems facing me than solutions. I have experienced more endings in the last year than beginnings. I have more reason than ever to despair, instead of hope. Read the rest of this entry