VD Date

Now that I’ve been alone for over a year, I get it. I get why people want to be alone.

Nobody to boss you.

You can make your own decisions, and they stick.

No one to tell you that you aren’t good enough.

Nobody to second-guess, criticize or condemn you.

Nobody to lie to you.

No one to answer to.

Just you! I mean me! Nobody else!

Not that I don’t miss loving, supportive collaboration. Parenting together. Knowing that there’s someone out there in the world who really cares about you. Who you can call if you get into a car accident, or get locked out.

And that’s just what girlfriends are for. No strings attached.

So when I think about VD, Valentine’s Day, or Vindictive Dating – I just say no. 

Only love, please. "I love me!" has a nice ring to it.

Room Mate Date

What could make for easier logistics than dating under the very same roof?

While some couples deliberate: When is the right time to shack up together? How long must we be dating before making the big live-in commitment? Have we passed all the appropriate tests? Are we at the right stage of life? Will I still be able to secretly date other people if I live with her?

I can easily advise on how to solve your dilemma. It’s like this: Find a roommate of the opposite sex who you find dashingly desirable, interesting, fun, trustworthy and practical. In other words, make sure the compatibility quotient is high. Then, split the rent. Splitting rent establishes relationship hierarchy of control, aka equality. Now, you have a built-in companion, confidante, dinner and movie date, and friend. An optional couch cuddler. A person to make sure you wake up alive every day.

Oh, but what to do when you get sick of each other? Easy. Go into separate rooms. Or somebody goes out for a while. Be sure to maintain other friendships. If necessary, have a fight while safely nestled in each other’s arms.

Overall, the roommate dating plan can cut through layers of relationship bullcrap with a single swipe. You did it. You took the plunge and didn’t overanalyze.

Now, just see if it all lives up to the living together thing.

PS This also works well with same sex roommates too if you are looking to pursue a sexual preference/gender conversion.

PPS It works best if the roommate is loving and caring and nurturing and empathetic and cute and smart and artistic and funny and kind and compassionate too. Avoid narcissistic aholes whenever possible.

Dessert Date

Every great date ends in dessert. And take that as you will.

This one was particularly nice. We had dinner. I was full. Dessert Date suggested…something sweet. He is sweet. We agreed to get something chocolate, like a piece of cake. Ended up sharing cannoli, wine and a cup of tea. Even better. Sat holding hands and gazing longingly into each other’s eyes. Holding each other across the table. Staying long after the restaurant should have closed.

 

Yeah, I may be dreaming. 
If I close my eyes and wish, will it happen again?

Such a sweet, sweet dream.

Fireplace Date

This is seriously SO romantic. I recently met some Daters who do the fireplace. Warm, flaming, cracking fire – replete with hugging, conversation and Amaretto. Between looking into each other’s eyes, they stare into the entrancing flames. Beautiful, sparkling, timeless, mesmerizing.

It only takes a spark to get a fire going;
soon all those around will warm up in it's glowing

Now I understand why they say…

“You feel a spark”

“Their love was on fire”

“Flames of passion”

“Burning love”

Fireplace Date is the ultimate in cozy warmth, nature, nurture - and simply shutting out the world in the name of good old fashioned snuggling.

Go burn some love.

Couch Date

I’m not usually the jealous type. I don’t want to spend time, effort or energy worrying and wondering if my partner, girlfriend, kids, boss, or whoever is superseding, outdoing and cheating on me.

But admittedly I’m a tiny bit envious of the Couch Dater. This is the person who so easily plops down, relaxes and snuggles on a couch. As a supersonic, busy, high functioning mom, my butt never went anywhere near a couch anyway. Sitting down? I was lucky to relax in my office chair for 8 hours a day. But never a couch.

Couch Daters are a lucky breed. Couch Daters may sit up or get horizontal. Couch Daters may hold a glass of wine or aperitif. Couch Daters may use warm cozy blankets. Couch Daters may get cozy with another Couch Dater. They may choose to forego the TV for intimate conversation (go, Couch Daters!).

You need no prequalifications, advanced degree or trust fund to be a Couch Dater. You need no fancy car, career trajectory, athletic ability or family pedigree. Just. Be. You.

I have lovely memories of a Couch Date with my friend M. I’d had a particularly nasty day in court. M immediately suggested we meet out for a drink and then we retired to her couch. We sat opposite and talked. She and couch helped me feel so, much, better.

And M and I both agree that when you can share a male Couch Date, it’s also so nice to add a dash of Cuddle. I’m on the lookout. Couch Cuddlers are out there! I know it.

Vacation Date

I know my dating life has hit rock bottom when I take my MOTHER on a romantic weekend to Palm Springs. A weekend I originally bought to give my “boyfriend” as a Christmas gift. But when the broken-toy-boyfriend pronounced that we would be spending $5 on our Christmas gifts this year, I realized I’d gone waaaayy over the edge. I didn’t care so much about the price tag; I wanted to go on a trip with good company!

So in the end, I never mentioned it to the broken toy guy, and invited my mother instead, who happened to have journeyed across the country to help me in my most recent time of crisis. That’s the best thing about mothers is... they are always your mother. And every human being on this earth has one, like it or not. A mother's love is for always. (That’s what I’ve told my kids to remember, since I'm losing them in custody court this week.)

Romance in a package

Our adventure trip – the “romance package” – included champagne, treats, jade bed massages, free coffee and movies in the jacuzzi under the stars. It also included twilight zone hotel episodes, a flat tire, AAA, exchanging rental cars at the airport and high (I mean high) winds. So while plans to lay by the pool and read about borderline personality disorder and Zen job searching flew out the window in the gusts, we still had an…adventure.

At least we got to vacate life for a while. 
Can’t we all use a break every once in a purple moon?

Revised Dating Want Ad

My original dating want ad was not getting much action. What do you think of this one?

• Craves adventure, cilantro and fine cheese.
• Inspired by creativity, music, red wine and relationships.
• Favorite spot is any beach with warm water and warm sand. Warm is a theme.
• Would rather be reading or writing than talking to you, but can still hold an excellent conversation.
• Boycotts mindless TV.
• Smarty-pants.
• Often outwits herself; too smart for own good.
• Smart, yet impaired by her own judgment.
• Willowy with honey-blonde locks, runners’ legs and ice blue eye. Other eye has been damaged.
• Athletic; not competitive.
• Expert laundry folder.
• Loves cats and board games, but highly allergic.
• Three wild banshees, or rather, children orbiting her 50% of time.
• Sleeps other 50%.

New Year's Date

Besides wishing for the standard love, peace and hap-penis, I have a New Year’s resolution. I’m going to go on more dates than last year! That should bring my ambitious dating quota to 3. And I’m talking Man-dates.

Don’t let my low dating numbers fool you. I’m perfectly dateable. Really smart, really cute, really desirable, good family, not materialistic, savvy with money, athletic (some would say “skinny”), fun yet serious, employable but not employed, experienced with kids and adults and cats but not dogs – what’s not to love?

Could it be the tattoo on my forehead that says, “Divorced! I’ve been rejected! Now I’m hurt and vulnerable! Don’t you fuck with me!” ? I should really have that tattoo removed. Then maybe I could go into bars without men scrambling under their barstools and stooling in general.

Last year I spent the fateful NYE at home, fireside, computer on lap, alternating between legal briefs (no, I’m not in law school, and it wasn't underwear briefs), final fake flirtations with wasbund (who shortly thereafter wholeheartedly ditched me to quickly cohabitate with my old crusty colleague), and simultaneously wondering why Knives didn’t want to spend time with me (being my “boyfriend” and all), yet he went to a party with acquaintances he hadn’t seen in 10 years. I felt truly special and loved.

Seriously though, besides 3 dates, I have a couple sub-NY-resolutions:

·         I want to be the best person I can be. Wait...that’s way too broad.

·         Forget getting in shape. I already am.

Don't get burned in love!

·         Being a good mother and not pulling all my hair out in one day, or anyone else’s?

My son suggested no more wet farts during dinner. For himself, that is.

How about - go to the beach, read and drink a glass of wine every day?

Wine is good for the heart.
I have a really nice, big one of those. Try it.

What about yours?

Holidates

I think the hardest thing about being divorced is the holidays. What? You thought holidays were already stressful? Oh no, my dear friend. You haven’t the faintest idea.

So your kids - YOUR kids - wake up on Christmas morning in another woman’s house. Her “Santa” traditions are impatiently explained to your confused children. Lavish, expensive gifts replace good ol’ fashioned parenting and intact families.

Your relatives are over 3000 miles away. And you are court-ordered not to travel out of state. So you spend Christmas Eve alone, hearing the loud, annoying clink-clink of wasbund and Botox Beotch’s dinner party toast, all the while trying not to wish too hard that your boyfriend will leave his wife.

Sound fun yet? It gets better.



There's a gaping hole in my life

Custody exchanges take place at McDonalds, in the pouring rain, 2 hours late. The police are called, and AAA has to jump start your car, which has died while you are waiting. The kids are hungry and haven’t eaten. You thought wasbund was a cook? Not anymore. It’s McDonald’s drive-thru for Christmas dinner!

Grave times

So if you thought your holidays were a wee bit stressful, crowds at the mall a bit too much, cooking taking all your time – have a go with me. I’ll trade places with you ANYTIME.

Hap Pee Holidates to you, too.

DTR Date




Date with the devil?
Problems can be masked!

 

I had lunch with my friend L and she introduced me to DTR. Don’t get all skittish about acronyms now. This is no corporate acronym crap. DTR stands for – Define The Relationship. Apparently, when you’ve been sleeping in the same bed or doing dishes together or carpooling to work or sharing a pet or exercising together, or whatever, there comes a time you’re supposed to “define” things. Then we all know where we stand. Or don’t.

I was intrigued. Don’t men hate when women pin them down? Aren’t relationships fun when they’re undefined, and as soon as there are expectations, accountability, responsibility, house payments, etc. the fun comes to a grinding, screeching halt? Isn’t that how dating men think?

Well, maybe not. I was DTR’d. I’d been merrily dating along, footloose and fancyfree, when this guy wanted to know details. Were we dating exclusively? Did I love anyone else? Could he have his wife, and eat me too?

All somewhat difficult philosophical questions.

Yes, I was willing to give this guy my best try. After all, he gave me knives after dumping me for my birthday. And I thought that was pretty swell, along with his…personality. Getting DTR’d was exciting! We get to talk about real relationship things! We have to be transparent with our whereabouts! It’s like, caring about someone!

Wish us luck.

Angel Date

I wear this ankle bracelet that tinkles, like a bell, or a distant windchime, or an Angel’s singing. When I wear it, magic follows me. And I kinda float. (I get this same floaty feeling when I’ve had just the right amount of coffee.)

If I’d had too much coffee, the tinkling starts to sound like a dog’s collar, and I panic and think a dog is chasing me. I glance around furtively seeking an escape.

But on this Date, the tinkling was just right.

One thing about being re-singled and alone is that I am no longer hiding from strangers. In fact, every encounter holds opportunity. Intimacy comes in many forms, and since I certainly didn’t get much in marriage, I’ve discovered it out in the world, in the kindness of strangers.

Like the man I held the door for at the bookstore (after he held the door for me). I called it “payback.”

His comment to me was “You’re just like an Angel.” Tinkle, tinkle went the ankle bracelet.

A comment like that can make me feel really good. Thank you to the nice strangers, who on my crappy beaten-down by divorce and not dating days, help remind me…I’m an Angel.

Now, wanna date?

Trial Date

There are no winners in divorce, only degrees of losing. Over the last 14 months of turmoil and sadness, DS lost 50% of her kids, most of her life’s savings, her dignity and often her mind.

If married couples can’t collaborate, divorcing is 100,000,000 times worse.

But there’s one thing I know regardless of the divorce trial’s outcome: while there are no winners – I’ve already won. I’VE WON MY LIFE BACK. 

Rest in peace...finally.

And, now, let the dating begin in earnest!

Park Date

Date With A Dog

Since I’m having some trouble finding real 1:1 dates with real men, I’ve reverted to the comfortable, neighborhood Park Date. This is an ongoing date that happens every night, in the convenience of my own ‘hood. It is not 1:1 exclusive, but it always promises to be fun. At any given time there is a motley combination of grownups with their “special” canteens, kids, animals and bikes (kids not to be confused with animals).

Last night I was feeling lonely, so I texted a quick pick up line to my old standby, the reliable, dependable Park Dates. Unlike most cheesy dates who play hard-to-get mind games, Park Dates don’t hesitate to jump right in. We all congregated in a matter of minutes.

Friends & pets!

Resilience!

And Jen was swept off her feet. Literally. Now, Jen is married to a very hot firefighter. But he is not the one who swept her away. Jen was innocently walking, holding her little boy when an immense black dog came charging up. You’d think doggie would have the sense to avoid a large object like Jen, but no. He hit her full on behind the knees (she didn’t even see it coming). Jen flew up high and then hit the ground with an immense thud (and she is not a thuddy-type person). Her son flew even higher and echoed the thud in miniature. The neighbors were dumbfounded. It was like a cartoon, but better! Oh...wait. Is Jen HURT?

Dates, if you have too many of them, often seem to end in hurt.  Why is that???

But Jen bounced back. That’s what I like to see in a Park Date. Resilience.

Getting Married Again - Part 2

I received some feedback on my Getting Married Again blog entry from Fiery Fiona in her Rebuttal. Apparently I’m not being realistic.

Is marriage as an institution realistic? With a divorce rate greater than 50%, it certainly begs the question. People live longer now. That means a lifetime of love and happiness may have to endure 60 years instead of 20. We don’t bear children to help us out with farm chores anymore. Instead, kids require 20 years of self-sacrifice, and are a money-pit that suck the life out of even the most decent marriages. And forget about “growing together over time.” In this era of instant gratification, sticking together through thick and thin is an ancient, lost art.

Despite all this, I have HOPE. Hope that in this great big world, I have a soulmate. Or maybe a few of them lurking in the shadowy corners of foreign countries…where I probably won’t find them.

Fiery Fiona pointed out that marriage can be like creating a fictional character (Lemony Snicket comes to mind, but he already exists) and then trying to fit our real marriage into them.

Instead of deluding ourselves that our prospects will fit our every need, I think we need to institute a pre-test. Agent calls this his standard screening process (SSP) for quality deal breakers (QDBs). Some qualifiers, like narcissists, control-freaks and high-maintenance mates need to be eliminated immediately.

Be warned! Some prospects get really good at faking on the qualifiers until you marry them...then they show you the real thing: beer-guzzling, football-watching, womanizing, lazy-a$$, court-hugging bamboozles!

A new direction

Know the signs and act quickly! We’re getting older and don’t have as much time to waste...

Breakup Date

“Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.”
~Semisonic, in Closing Time

Even when you know a relationship must end, the actual ending is never easy (at least I like to think that even cruel heartless people suffer too, although they may not show it).

When you are doing the ending, the power is exhilarating, but also a burden - for those of us who are at all compassionate. When the end is done to you, it doesn’t feel so hot. In fact, you might even cry, experience rage, beg for another chance or otherwise vent your feelings.

Whether the breakup is expected or unexpected, it HURTS.

Even more challenging is the “I’m torn” breakup. You may have been putting it off or avoiding the inevitable. You may think it’s possible for change, so you hang in a little longer. Or you may really love, adore and cherish certain things about a person – but other things are just too intolerable.

What makes the scales tip? A new relationship, an affair, kids graduating, death of a parent or a cat, an inheritance, a new job, an epiphany. Something in us breaks and we know we can’t go on the same as before.

You may look for a partner with different characteristics from your narcissistic wasbund or materialistic mate, promising yourself “I’ll never put up with that again.” A new relationship holds promise, until we are reminded that everyone has flaws. It’s just a matter of which flaws you can accept, and live with.

In the end, we are left right back where we started, with ourselves.

Can’t break up with yourself.

Just try to break even.

Dating Children

When dating, it’s natural to want to put your best foot forward. This means different things to different people. For me, it means getting all dolled up, smoking some dope and buying some condoms. Kidding. An ex-librarian like me cannot be that exciting, you may muse. Suffice it to say I fall somewhere in the middle.

Other people view children as exciting pawns in relationship-building. My children used to play chess, but now they have become chess pieces in someone’s dating game. She is a botox beotch.

This botox beotch (uncapitalized name to signify insignificance) seemed friendly enough (almost too friendly?) when she was pumping me for information about my husband. Now that that’s settled, why not pump the kids too? I call this behavior Dating My Kids With A Disturbing Ulterior Motive In Mind. Most adults can guess what that motive is. If not, stop for a moment and think. Some might call it a biological instinct, which it is…but use caution, please!

My daughter may swoon over the leopard-print manicure you provide her, or the skimpy bikini you buy her to wear in your pool (with her real mother she must wear a rashguard while swimming – you just helped undermine me). My sons may admire your video game collection. Your smelly dog may provide limited entertainment, and your dinners surely rival my cooking, I’m proud to admit – but knock yourself out all you want. You are absolutely nobody. And you always will be. Dating My Children cements your status a rung below Snow White’s wicked stepmother. They wouldn’t even write a fairy tale about you.

Dating My Kids, botox beotch, belies one fundamental principle: you may date them all you want, but you will never be their mother. Stick to your own mussed-up family, your own 2-1/2 kids who are floundering. You can have my husband. Believe me, he’s ALL yours. But get your sticky, stinky, dating claws out of my kids.

As the saying goes, pick up somebody your own size. And the guy you’re picking is as small, and as green with envy, as you are. Check it out.



bb has herself (in) a pickle

Getting Married Again - Rebuttal

A Response to "Getting Married Again" (blogpost dated 1 September)

by FIERY Fiona

Didn’t we all marry fictional characters the first (or second) time around?? Most of us tried to fit a real character into our fictional idea of what we wanted a marriage, husband or wife to be - that’s usually our first mistake! 

My daughter wants me to get married again so she can be in the wedding - the fantasy of a Prince and Princess - thanks Disney! (Be careful! Disney has a bad habit of killing off the Mother. I still haven’t recovered from watching Bambi when I was little!)

Let’s look at what our next fairytale marriage might look like. OK, OK! We’re All done with the fairytale at this point! Perhaps there’s a marriage that we admire? I think most of us can come up with one of those!  Most of us will look to a couple who has been married for a long time (20+ years?) and admire how they made it there.  Like the couple I ran into one day at the coffee shop on a quiet Sunday morning - not so quiet after my 3 children came barreling in announcing that they want doughnuts and hot chocolate to anyone who could help them. The couple could not have looked more content sitting on the couch reading the Sunday paper and enjoying their coffee together (no conversation necessary anymore). The only thing better may have been staying in bed together enjoying that paper and first cup of coffee. They smiled at my energetic children and then at me and reassured me that they’ve been there too and it will fly by...so enjoy! Ahhh……the joy of knowing that you made through the first 20 years of marriage and parenthood and came out the other side still together!!

Sure they still have those idiosyncrasies that drive each other crazy - how many times did you have to turn the toilet paper roll around the right way, pick up the dirty clothes next to the laundry hamper or take the empty coffee cups out of the car?? After 20+ years, those idiosyncrasies don’t change or go away, but at some point they become part of that person and part of what you learn to love and appreciate about them.  Those of us who are divorced never came out the other side of that marriage where you learned to love and appreciate each other with all of our faults - and we all have plenty of them!! 

For those of us who are divorced and contemplating whether getting married again is even something that we want, the hurdles can be even more insurmountable than the first (or second) time around. Can you actually trust someone again to “love, honor, respect, protect, obey…”?  The challenge of raising children and step-children together can be more challenging than raising your own children together. Then there are also the unmentionable ex-spouses that never really go away...and as much as we all try to live in an amicable relationship with them, they will always have that special ability to take a perfectly pleasant day and turn it sour with the drop of one quick comment - just because they can. How many different relationships do you really want to try to juggle?? Then again, someone has to keep our beloved therapists in practice!!

In the end though, we all want that one special fictional character to become reality. We want to grow together and enjoy life with someone special so that all those challenges along the way don’t seem so insurmountable. So whoever your fictional character may be - Prince Charming, Cinderella, Mr. Cocoa, or Lemony Snicket - we’ve all created someone that we are looking for to enjoy life with!

Date With Myself

Now, now, don’t get the wrong idea here.

With the end of married life as I once knew it nearing a year in rearview, I decided it’s time to get myself together. Get together with none other than myself.

That means - now that the shock, disbelief, horror and misery of drop-the-bomb-divorce are wearing off – I can enjoy my own company again. And I’m pretty darn fun!

A restorative getaway always helps put tragedy into perspective. Peace, calm, quiet, love, lobster and ice cream. That’s about all I need to get my bearings again. And real family members who never ever give up on me like my divorce family did.

It’s really sweet and savory to love your own good company.

Booked This Date

By no means traditional (I have a belly-button pierce and toe rings!), I’d still be hard-pressed to ask someone out on a date. I’m shy that way. But in this case I could not let the opportunity pass me by. I guess when you really want something you make the effort…right?

I wanted a date with this author. Forget Hollywood celebs, forget professional sports figures…the real heroes of this world are authors. Authors spread knowledge. And after reading Happily Ever After Divorce by Jessica Bram, I knew I simply had to meet her…so I did not hesitate to ask her out.

Some people balk at e-mail when you want to get to know someone, but if you know anything about me, you know I loathe phone calls. (Really, it’s just hard to hear on my tiny cell phone.) So I wrote Jessica an e-mail and she answered! The first sign of a promising date is they communicate, and make time for you.

We agreed to meet at a bookstore café (perfect!) for coffee. She was as upbeat and as interesting as her book and blog. As memoirs often do, Happily Ever After Divorce filled all kinds of gaps in my own story. After all, what’s life without the human experience and someone to relate to?

Happily Ever After Divorce is matter-of-fact and not fru-fru, with just the right dose of reality, humor and bravery. Yes, bravery. It takes insurmountable courage and strength to raise 3 kids on your own, while fending off legal bullets. We had common ground (also known as chemistry in the dating world). Jessica has some inspiring stories, ranging from dating disasters to home fix-it fiascos to travel tales. All told in a way that helped me realize that although divorce – or “re-singled” as she would rather call it - is a harrowing experience, the world keeps right on spinning, and at some point, you need to jump back on. And you’d be amazed at how high you can jump.

Writing is a GIFT to the world. By sharing her story with candor, Jessica risked letting others into her reality. Now she has a successful business conducting creative writing workshops and helping others pen their amazing stories.

Asking her out on a date was…worth every word.

Delayed Date

It’s not often that a date comes calling 20 years later. But I guess I made an impression.

In 1991 or so, we went on a Rock Climbing Date. Imagine the trust involved on a first date, to let a guy strap me into a harness and dangle me by a thread from a very, very tall cliff. Before I got banged around by life, it was much easier to let go with blind trust and reckless abandon. What I remember most about that Date is how sore my fingers were afterwards…I never knew I had that many muscles in my fingers! That stayed with me.

Thanks to the infinite power of reconnecting technologies, Rock Climbing Date tracked me down. He casually mentioned he had something for me, something he’d been carrying around for 20 years or so, waiting for the chance to give it to me. I was intrigued.

We live 3000 miles apart, but I just happened to be passing through his neighborhood. I texted him and within 20 minutes, he appeared, bearing the mysterious, old gift. He walked into the bagel shop practically hidden by the gift he was holding.

It was a big, framed photo of me scaling that cliff, oh-so-long-ago, in practically a different lifetime, when everything was new and nothing was scary, and I was invincible. It was me, with a slightly younger face, in the same body, smiling triumphantly while clinging onto that rock-faced cliff for dear life.

I’m not the huggy-huggy type at all, but I sprung out of my chair to envelop Rock Climbing Date in a spontaneous squeezy hug, framed photo and all, for his incredible long-term thoughtfulness.

I’m still smiling triumphantly, while clinging on for dear life. And now I have the picture to prove it.