Dr. Ruth and the Holiday Gauntlet

I got a text message this morning that said “Will you answer a personal question for me?”

“Fine, yes, I have had sex with another woman. No there is no photographic evidence.  Is that what you wanted to know?”

It wasn’t.

Oops.

Later, I got another text from a different person, “I need some advice.”

Uh, ok, as long as you realize it won’t be worth a damn.

I’m trying to decide between playing the filed and exclusivity.  There are some things I want to try but can’t figure out how to do it.

I’m not sure how to break this to you, women are not lab rats.  That’s what hookers are for. 

I can’t afford a hooker, and the things I want to try involve more than two people. Any suggestions?

I’m sorry, I turned in my membership card to the Women who fulfill men’s threesome fantasies support group just last week.  Sorry.  Play the field. Besides you don’t want to get all caught up in the Holiday Gauntlet of relationships.  No man has ever come out of that alive. 

The Holiday Gauntlet, or Holiday Triathlon, you know that obstacle course that starts at Thanksgiving and runs up to St. Patrick’s Day.

If you’re Single the gauntlet looks like this:

Thanksgiving is a day you can hang with your family and quasi forget you’re single.  They will forgive you that third glass of wine and the second piece of pumpkin pie. Especially if you offer to do the dishes.  (That way you can sneak a fourth glass of wine, or third piece of pie.)  Also, Thanksgiving is when the stores really ramp up their advertising campaigns and the jewelry stores of the world unite to bombard you with never ending reminders that you are in fact single and you do in fact suck and won’t be getting any bling this year. Pass that damn wine.

Christmas is for the kids.  At least that’s what you tell yourself if you have kids.  Watching them open their presents and squee with excitement and rush to hug you and say thank you should distract your for about 6.9 seconds.  Then they are off to text all their friends about all they got, and you are left to throw away all the wrapping paper and curl up with the book you bought yourself, and drink coffee out of the I ❤ Mom coffee mug you kid bought at the school store.  By noon you’ll be ready to rip down all the decorations and throw them out with the wrapping paper.

New Years Eve isn’t too hard to navigate.  For the most part you can go out and risk life and limb to attend any number of NYE parties offered (for a substantial fee) at any of the hotels, night clubs, casinos in the area.  Or you can opt to stay home and watch television.  Believe me, not every channel on television will be shoving Ryan Seacrest down your throat.  But at some point in the evening it will invariably be all over Facebook and Twitter that it’s NYE and everyone in the world is celebrating a new year with their significant other, and you will be reminded that when the ball drops at midnight, with any luck you’ll be passed out.

And just when you think you’ve made it through the trifecta of Holiday Hell, February throws Valentine’s Day in your face.  If the jewelry store commercials, the Holiday music, the parties, and the constant reminders that you’re single have made you want to stab someone, this day will.  And forget trying to forget what day it is. Every fucking woman in your office will be getting an obnoxious ginormous bouquet of roses from their significant others and you’ll be stuck answering phones while they go out to lunch.

Of course the reward for surviving the Singles Holiday Gauntlet is celebrating St. Patrick’s Day!  Bring on the alcohol!

If you are coupled up through the holidays

Fuck you.

First love, True love, Forever love

I seem to be reading a lot of blogs lately and finding inspiration in them.  I’ve read several posts about Forever Loves.  At 43, I don’t believe I’ve met my forever love.  In fact, I’m pretty sure I never will. 

Sure I’ve been married. Twice. I knew neither of them would be forever.  I’ve been honest about the reasons I married them.  Neither was because I was head over heals I can’t live without him want to spend the rest of my life with him in love.  Oh, I did love them, as best I could as the person I was then with what I understood about love.  All of which was painfully inadequate. 

But they were not total failures.  I have three amazingly brilliant, funny, good looking, outgoing, wonderful kids. (yes, I’m wearing mommy goggles) I have a good relationship with my 2nd ex husband, and my 1st ex husband could fall of the face of the Earth and I wouldn’t hire the search party to find him.  Oh, there would be a party, just not the searching kind.

Then there was Brian. I can honestly say, from the beginning, I thought “This is it. This is forever love.”  The stubborn hopeless romantic still wonders what if.  (look, that’s honest, but it doesn’t mean it will happen, but you know, when you believe that this is it it’s hard to let go of that, no matter what.) After 5 years, and countless break ups, it’s probably a safe bet that he isn’t my forever love. 

But he was as close as I have ever gotten.  He’s probably as close as I’ll ever get. 

My first love? I was 12. In 7th grade.  His mom made him break up with me in 8th grade because she said he was getting too serious.  At the time I thought she was cruel and I cried for a week, my poor 12 year old heart was shattered for the first time.  I thought I would probably die.  Turns out, she knew him pretty well.. he tends to get a bit obsessive.

The thing is, I hear people talk of true love, forever love, lasting love, a certain security in knowing that while their partner could leave on any given day, they know that they know that they know that they won’t.  And that is something I’ve never had.  I’m willing to accept that I never will.  Does it tug at my heart? Sure it does. Who doesn’t want to find someone who loves them, accepts them, wants to be with them day in and day out and not just on good hair days?

I believe in true love, forever love, lasting love, committed love.  I just believe it exits for other people.  At 43, I’ve missed the boat.  I chose to give my heart to men who wouldn’t protect it, who would end up breaking it, sometimes over and over again.  I’m done giving my heart away.  It’s too beat up, banged up and bruised, used and abused, I’d be hard pressed to find anyone willing to put in the work to heal it.  I’d be even harder pressed to find someone I’d be willing to let try. 

I have had enough.

I have been spreading my wings.

No, actually, I have been staking my claim.  On my life.

I have spent an incredible amount of time in my life not rocking the boat.  Keeping my opinions to myself, agreeing to keep the peace, and going along with the status quo even when it really just rocked my core.

Know how well that worked for me?  It landed me in the hospital.

It was that fateful day in the hospital a friendship was born.  Via Facebook and text messages, I reconnected with a friend from high school.  He threatened to kick my ass, because I was being stupid.  I told him to get fucked.  It was destined to be love.

The conversations continued outside the hospital, and progressed from text message to phone calls.  Long phone calls.  Three hour phone calls.  We felt something.  We made plans for me to come see him.

It was as good in person as it was over the phone.  We laughed, we talked till all hours of the night.  it was fun, and easy and perfect.

And then life interfered.  He got busy with family, I started therapy, he got a job, I juggled the girls schedules.  The phone calls stopped, the text messages dwindled.  I tried to keep it going, but it was clear his life was too busy, too crowded for me.

I sent him a text “I’m tired of fighting to be a part of your life.”

He responded with “What’s your problem?”

I sent another text, “You have a life there that I can’t be a part of.  I can’t come see you there, you won’t come here.  You’re busy with family friends and your job.  There’s just no room for me.”

That? Took a lot of courage, on my part.  But what I wonder now is this:  Was any of it real or were the feelings I felt at the beginning due to the mania?  Did I imagine it, exaggerate it because I was manic.  And now that I’m getting my head straightened out, and I’m not as manic or crazy, it’s not as appealing.  I’m seeing it for what it was.

He phoned and called me Babe.  That? Is a gold-plated Get-Out-Of-Jail-Free card.  I’m a sucker for a guy who calls me Babe. And yet?  This time I couldn’t.  This time I knew it was just him trying to reel me back in, but nothing would change.  It’s not like his family would magically disappear, or his job would instantly get less demanding.  I would still be an afterthought, something to squeeze in when he thought about it.

I deserve better than that.

Therapy taught me I have worth.  Even with my disease, I have worth.  That anyone worthy of me will love ME, want ME, and my illness won’t be an issue.

I'm not here today, I'm at my OTHER place, You Won't Go Blind

Follow this link to my post over at You Won't Go Blind

It’s been just shy of four months since I got that fateful text message ending my four year relationship with Brian.  Yes, already, four months.

I’m back in the dating pool again. Something I swore I would never do.  Apparently I lied.  I’m back on Dating websites looking for Mr. You’ll do until Prince Charming comes along on his white stallion.  Because we all know that Prince Charming? Won’t waste his time on dating websites.   Wait, maybe I don’t want Prince Charming.  I mean, he’s been married three times already (Sleeping Beauty, Snow White and Cinderella.  Who all divorced him due to his uncontrollable womanizing and Hero Complex. Clearly)

Anyway, in the past four months, I have come up with a list of prerequisites for your dating profile if you want to date me.  I wrote about them over at You Won’t Go Blind.

Please, go show me some love?  I’m not finding it on the dating websites. Clearly.

 

 

Changing my mind set in the dating game

This dating business?

Sucks.

Seriously.  I know why we do this crap when we’re younger.

Because we can.

Because when we’re young, and the guy turns out to be a douchenozzle, or he blows you off, or stands you up, or disappears, or lied on his profile, or the date just sucks we truly believe “Heh, he’s the problem. Not me.”

Now that I’m older, and dating again?

Not so easy to sell myself that same bullshit. Even if it isn’t bullshit.

I haven’t blogged about it, but I’ve made no secret of it on Twitter, that a few weeks (months? really? has it been that long?) I went back to the dating website where I met Brian.  (What? It’s free!)  I’m not looking for my Prince Charming. He won’t be fishing anyway.  But it would be nice to have someone to hang out with so I don’t spend all my weekends at home alone.  Or out on the town alone.  Or drive my friends bat-shit crazy begging them to entertain me.

I made a few quick changes to my profile, added a new picture, and waited without any real expectations.  I didn’t wait long.  Hello?!? New fish in the sea, fresh meat. Everyone’s coming out to check out the new chick.  (Even a couple of girls. WOOt! Everyone wants a piece of me!) A lot of young guys, looking to hook up (ignore), a lot of ain’t-no-way-in-hell guys looking way out of their league (ignore), a few I talked to, but just didn’t feel any real need or want to talk to them on the phone or in person, and a couple I actually talked to on the phone, and a couple I actually met.

One guy in particular had some potential.  His profile had the same sense of humor I have.  I got it. I thought he gets it.  We exchanged a few messages, and then phone numbers.  Our first phone conversation was an hour long.  He’s on Twitter and Facebook (no I never went looking for him).  We exchanged real-life email addresses and emails and a few more phone calls… and then?

Gone.

Radio Silent.

His profile said “I’m taking a break. Good luck to all of you still fishing.”

But nothing to me. No phone call, no email. no text message.

I am not heartbroken over this. I figure this is part of the game.  Maybe he found someone he really connected with.  I wish him the best of luck, truly. But couldn’t he have told me that instead of falling off the face of the earth?

Or maybe he was abducted by aliens.

Or, when he got my real-life email address, he looked at my google profile, which links to my Twitter, Facebook, here, my review blog, and well, from there? It’s just follow the flashing neon lights to find out way more about me than you ever dreamed you wanted to know.

Of course, I figured, *that* had to be it.  That had to be the reason why he fell (or jumped) off the face of the earth.  He read my blog, he found my Facebook page, and my Flickr account, and everything else I have on line…

And ran scared.

Or jumped.

It took a little bit for me to realize how destructive that line of thinking was.  So what if he ran (or jumped) because of what he found?  What he found is a version of me.  Sometimes a cartoon version of me, but still… a version of me.  If he couldn’t handle it, didn’t like it, or was intimidated (yeah, that’s what it was… intimidation) he’s not the right guy.

I was all this on-line with Brian…oh wait, bad example.  That didn’t work out.

Ok, I have a lot of friends who know me in real life, and know the me that is on line and they like both versions of me.  But when push came to shove, when things fizzled, my first thought was “What was wrong with ME?” and it should have been “What the hell is wrong with him?” or “Oh, well, he just doesn’t get me.  Next!”

I had a date this weekend.  With a guy. Saturday night.  And I didn’t drink any alcohol.  (thanks Petron) The date? Almost perfect.  All on my own.  Without my best friend tequila.  And if this one doesn’t work out either?

I’ll be batting about average.

I can't not find words to adequately express my thanks

I can not begin to find the words to adequately express my thanks to all my readers.

I got a message from Melissa today, at You Won’t Go Blind, offering me a writer position at that website instead of just a guest poster.

She said that my first article there, is still getting lots of reviews and she asked if I would be interested in submitting articles on a regular basis.

And with that simple message?  I saw more of my dream come true.

So for those of you who followed me over there for one day? Pack a bag, you’ll be following me over there more and more.

I took another step towards my dreams coming true.  And I owe a huge part of it to you.

I'm a guest blogger!

Back in January, Sassy Scorp posted she was looking for people to write guest posts for her blog.

I’m a self proclaimed attention whore, and relish the opportunity to meet new people so I jumped all over that.

Today? I’m over at Sassy’s Place, Single Mama in LA.  She’s a single mom like me.  We’re not ‘mommy bloggers’, and we both wish there was more of a single mom blogger niche out there for us.

In the meantime?  We’ll create our own.

So go read about my insecurities about getting naked with someone new.  Nothing like going to ‘visit’ a new bloggers place and getting naked all over their blog.

I’m klassy like that.

Please go show me some love, just keep the crazy to yourself

Remember a few days (maybe weeks) ago when I said that Melissa had lost her mind and agreed to let me write a few blog posts for You Won’t Go Blind?

I went live today.

With rules for dating parents.

No, not rules for how to date parents,  rules for parents who are dating again.

So, please, go over to You Won’t Go Blind and check me out.  Leave me some love.  Show Melissa I can bring a whole lot of new readers to the place, just like my milkshakes bring the boys to the yard.

Oh, and don’t mention my dating history.

She doesn’t need to know that yet.

Thanks.

Because nothing screams dating expert like a twice divorced recently dumped single mom of two. Clearly.

I happen to be hanging out on Facebook when I saw Melissa say that yes, it was true, You Won’t Go Blind was looking for new writers if anyone was interested to contact her.

I thought it would be fun, so I fired off a message with links to here, and Buy-Her.com and said I was interested in being considered.  You know because nothing screams relationship expert quite as loudly as a twice divorced, recently dumped, now back in the dating world at the ripe age of 40+, mother of two almost teenage daughters.  I know exactly what I’m talking about. Clearly.

When I happened to mention this new adventure to a couple of my co-workers, after they stopped laughing long enough to take a breath, they asked me “So, has this woman ever met you?”   Well, clearly, no.  If she had?  I’d would have never been given this opportunity.

Of course, now, I can go on dates and consider it research.  As one friend pointed out “You can be St. Louis’s version of Carrie Bradshaw.”  Because that’s exactly what St. Louis needs.  Clearly.

In all seriousness, I can bring to the table knowledge about blending families, single parent dating, dating over the age of 40, on line dating (that’s where/how I met Brian, and regardless of where we are now (Splitsville, barely speaking Splitsville) we dated for 4 years) and unblending families.

I don’t have anything posted there yet, but believe me as soon as I do?  You all will be the first to know about it. I would appreciate it if you all would then spread the word and show me some love because I don’t want Melissa to regret giving me this chance.  I think it will be awesome beyond words and I need some support and love.  PLEASE.  We’ll keep the crazy from her until she realizes just how Awesome I am.