circling back

I’ve been single for the past seven months after a long-term relationship ended.

For much of the time we were together, we talked about marriage. And, in the end, we never made those next steps — and it’s better this way. I’ve made peace with it.

And then I focused on work and family.

A few months later as I was still focused on my own growth, I felt a little nudge like a small voice asking a question as it poked at the back of my head, on the right side, just at the base of my skull. This poking was persistent and specific; the question was “love?”

In no way was I ready to dive back into a relationship. My business needed my attention. And I have only a few more months of having a child at home… once again, more possibilities open on the horizon. I needed to get back into the energy of what I wanted to create — and, as I did, unresolved hurts from the past kept rising to the surface. I took on a mission of healing and clearing those persistent beliefs, stories and energies.

A strange thing began happening as I started doing this work: nearly every man I’ve dated in the past decade circled back in one way or another. Guys I haven’t heard from in years came out of the woodwork to say “hey” in my dms: one became a client, one invited me to play Words with Friends, one asked to catch up over dinner, one hit me up to learn more about the work I’m doing now — and even that most recent guy reached back out to express his disappointment that I didn’t try to repair our relationship (he even gave me an apology script) after it had ended (and then notified me two days later he was engaged).

It became a running joke among a group of girlfriends. “Who did you hear from this week?” became a regular question during phone calls or messages, with me occasionally sharing screen shots or photos.

As flattering as it may have been to suddenly and strangely attract all these fellows from the past, there’s only one who might have stood a chance. And, of course, he’s the one I haven’t heard from in five and a half years.

“What if you reached out to him?” my friends have asked.

Truthfully, I have. More than once. Following through on something I said I’d do. Checking in. Sharing a photo memory that made me smile. And ultimately to let him know that I’d forgiven him and was grateful to have experienced what we shared together, to have those feelings as a compass. And I’ve never gotten any sort of response to those handful of notes over as many years. Which is its own sort of response.

I know all this and it still hurts. And I’m still tempted to share the Facebook memory that popped up from six years ago from our time at the beach. And I still hope for at least one more conversation, an acknowledgement, some kind of closure that I haven’t seemed to be able to allow myself.

I’m learning to move forward again, to release the energy and heal the hurt that seems to come in unending layers, and to embody the energies of what I want for myself: love, tenderness, devotion, adventure, companionship, etc.

And still, I can’t help wishing he would circle back.

lately…

I dreamt about Lee the other night. After all this time, we were going to get together for a glass of wine. And then something happened and we didn’t. I think I woke up trying to reschedule and then slowly realized it wasn’t real.

Sometimes I think he visits here. And sometimes I’m sure he doesn’t. I was so certain he’d come back into my life, but without any evidence or reason to believe.

For a long time, I checked out bald dudes. I started listening to Country music (you can check out my playlist on Spotify). I dug deep into how to communicate better in relationships. I stopped eating gluten and dairy. I’ve learned to more authentically stand in my truth. I have a rescue dog (that’s supposed to be my daughter’s).

I’m also in a relationship with a kind and loving man. It’s been more than two years now. We moved in after a year. Then he got a job out of state. We thought we’d make it a pretty balanced situation, where he’d be home two or three weeks a month. But it hasn’t worked out that way. And, in those times of distance and (not gonna lie) a bit of resentment, we’ve argued — and thoughts about how happy I’d been in relationship with Lee snuck in.

It’s indefensible, I know. It’s not fair to compare people — and, if it is, my current guy has several different legs up on Lee. But our relationship doesn’t have that same level of ease; we have to work on it. And sometimes I crave the harmony and stronger political alignment I shared with Lee.

I’ve tried to put my finger on what it was about that relationship that seemed so right. After all, I still had my own stuff — I struggled with some anxiety, I was on the verge of descending into consuming grief — but I liked myself and who I was in our relationship. I liked that I wanted to be my best self and was actively taking steps that ultimately resulted in a promotion at work and feeling pretty fit. I liked how natural we felt, as though our souls had known each other before. I felt authentic in how I was navigating the world. My personal momentum was toward the positive.

These days, I regularly feel angry and lethargic. Being positive seems to take extraordinary effort. And rather than casting about, trying to assign blame to a stressful situation at work or a normal, mostly positive relationship, I sometimes find myself wondering what life might be like if I were navigating it with Lee.

Deep down, I know the relationship we had wasn’t real, even as it felt more so than most. Let me clarify: the connection was real, the love was genuine. But our relationship didn’t have time to become real because we never got bored, never watched television together, never learned how to negotiate conflict with one another, were never tested. And this occasional fantasy can’t match a man who wants to create a life with me, even if his vision for our future makes me consider possibilities that are different from what I would have chosen for myself.

And there’s another possibility that plays into this malaise: What if my current mental state is simply a side effect of the outrage fatigue so many women I know are feeling… since right around January, 2017, and more so since the Kavanaugh confirmation fiasco (during which a series of ancient, shriveled white men demonstrated how little they value women, and a female senator from Maine rapturously sang the praises of an abusive drunk as though he was lapping at her labia even while she spoke).

I keep thinking I’ll be happier, calmer, better able to look forward after the next election… provided it’s free and fair, and hatred is defeated.

dating in the time of trump

You haven’t heard from me in a while, and for good reason(s). Work has been insane, I’ve been on a 30-day cleanse (no fun!) and, candidly, I’ve just seen too much mean come out of the woodwork lately… which brings me to today’s topic: How can one date in the time of Trump?

When someone who has made incendiary remarks against blacks, women, Muslims, Mexicans and others is in the highest office in the land, some people suddenly think it’s okay to forget what their mammas told them. Remember “if you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all”? A lot of people seem to have forgotten that.

The news is full of hate crimes and half-truths. People are more polarized than I can recall and, given that dating sites can be somewhat akin to social media, I just don’t feel the need to put myself out there for insults or debate based on different ideologies. I guess I’m feeling a little sensitive. I’m not interested in encountering any more negativity than is already out there, so taking a break is a move to protect my energy.

In fact, I went on several dates with a guy who said he’s normally conservative, but wouldn’t be voting for Trump. Then, post-election, he said he did vote for Trump. About two weeks after the inauguration, he was telling me how amazing he thought I was…and all I could do was honestly tell him that he was disqualified. You see, if he thought our now president was doing a good job, I’m pretty sure we didn’t share enough common values to have a serious relationship. If, on the other hand, he was having regrets about his vote, I wondered how he was so idiotic he didn’t see it coming. There was no winning at that point.

On the flip side, it seems like it could be a great time to easily sort out those who share my feminist, pro-choice, inclusive values (read non Trump supporters). Maybe this would be the best time of all to give meeting new men a go. In fact, I recently saw an article discussing the most successful group of daters on OKCupid: proudly liberal women. If I’m not mistaken, the data referenced was for a younger group than I’m in, so I’m not certain whether the same is true for my demographic.

But let’s take this a step further — we have to talk about sex. Sex is inherently political. How so? Let’s play out a scenario: Let’s say one is on a hot and sexy date, and both parties are eager to engage in a romp. What about protection? Who is responsible? What happens if, despite precautions, one becomes pregnant? You see, certain conversations need to take place before getting jiggy. For example, I can’t conceive of sleeping with someone who was anti-choice. (Pun intended.) And I firmly believe, at my age and station, that a man who has already had a family should take the step of getting a vasectomy — it’s simply the chivalrous thing to do.

Meanwhile with work, children, life and a new hobby — demonstrating / protesting (while proudly wearing my fuchsia pussy hat) — taking all my time, who has time to date? So, for now, the resistance is my boyfriend.

sayonara 2016

2016 will go down in infamy as the year that kicked my ass. I can honestly say I’ve hit emotional rock bottom — I’ve broken into tears probably more days than not, including ugly crying in bars with girlfriends; I’ve struggled to truly experience the upper register of my emotions, including joy, happiness and gratitude; my body has not supported me in wellness; and where I once felt sweet and feminine, I’ve more often felt brittle and bitter. My efforts to pick myself up, dust myself off and “get back out there” have been short lived and uncomfortable, as I’ve ridden wave after wave of grief.

I think about love and hope and, almost immediately, I feel the pain of loss and heartache in my chest. Of course I want to find my partner — I want my happily ever after, however unrealistic that may be. And contemplating how long it took to find something so good, that it could be another five years of searching… I just don’t know that I have it in me. Especially knowing there’s a chance I could hurt as much as I’ve hurt last year. I would like to never feel such heartache again. I would like no one ever to experience that deep heartache ever again.

I’ve also endured entirely too much well-intentioned advice and relationship maxims — among them:

It’s a numbers game; you’ve just got to keep at it.

Uh, hello? If you’ve been following, you know I’ve been single again for nearly seven years now. That’s a lot of dates. I haven’t counted. I work up my courage and psych myself up to get out there and meet new people. But I’m really over it. I want the next man I kiss to the be my last first kiss. And I want it to be wonderful.

When love comes around, it won’t look anything like you expect it to.

Lee didn’t look anything like I expected him to. He didn’t act anything like I expected. Our relationship did not transpire like I expected — it was better. And it was partly because he was so different and we, together, were so unexpectedly good that I believed I may have found what I’m searching for.

Love won’t show up on your timeline.

I took a year to work on myself and heal after my ex and I split nearly seven years ago now. I had been looking for nearly five years by the time I met Lee. One could have said the timing was bad, given my ex’s recent death. That it was so unlikely was, perhaps, just another reason it felt so real.

Forget chemistry; make decisions based on how you feel.

While I would tell you now that Lee and I had great chemistry, it wasn’t instant. Our chemistry grew as we got to know each other and developed feelings for one another. We seemed to enjoy many of the same things and share a great deal in common. I could envision him by my side in nearly any situation.

In other words, I knew I was on the right track a year ago… Now I’ve got to muster my courage to try again. But first I’m going to take some time, reset my energy / vibe, work on getting my body healthy enough to support the mental work I need to do.

2017 will be better. It has to be.

let’s call the whole thing off

Since … when? the election maybe?… I’ve been going through more anger, sadness, disillusionment. I understand what it is — yet another wave of grief — though I don’t quite ever get used to it and I am somewhat surprised that I’m still feeling it so deeply.

My body isn’t helping me. I’ve been fighting off a sinus infection, cold and other maladies for a couple of months, too, and I feel constantly exhausted.

There was one fabulous day when suddenly I felt well and energetic and I re-hung the curtains, bought a nice area rug and re-organized my bedroom, where the closet had been expanded and the room repainted, and I thought: “This is my lovely retreat and I want it all to myself!”

The feeling was short-lived and I succumbed to round two of a head cold. Meanwhile, I was dating a fellow or two casually and so I kept things going, though without much enthusiasm.

On Thanksgiving, I thought about first meeting Lee a year ago that night in a mountain town. The first week in December, my neighbors hosted a party — the party I’d left early last year to go on my first official date with Lee. The second week in December was the anniversary of my ex’s death. A year ago today, I was on a flight to paradise with Lee… and so on. The memories keep flooding back and, as much as I try to keep things in perspective, I am saddened.

The holidays are a lonely time for a single parent, when all the focus is on ensuring the children feel loved and have something special under the tree. There is no one “special” in my life to shop for and plan with, and no one shopping for something special for me.

Instead, I got new brakes.

Last year at this time was sad, too, but I had a trip to the sunshine to look forward to — and, even if I didn’t know it at the time, life was about to get truly, spectacularly beautiful…for a period of approximately two months.

I desperately want to feel that hopeful again. I want to feel loving and loved, sweet and feminine, like the partnership part of my future is not so bleak as the present… because all in all, I have a rich and wonderful life.

So today I sent a text ending things with the fellow who really seemed to hope our few dates would turn into a relationship. He replied, “I really liked you.” And I wish I were capable of feeling something back. I just don’t feel sweetness or desire or… or anything for him or anyone else I’ve met.

Amidst all of this malaise, I am aware that it is but a moment and that I will feel less bleak again soon. I know the best way out of it is to focus on myself and my family. I will hope again. But, in the meantime, I need to remember how to love my life, just as it is, again.

how I fell

It’s laughable, really, how quickly we can fall and for what reasons. I could give you a nearly endless list of the things I loved about my last boyfriend. But when a friend asked me a different question recently — how did you fall in love? — I thought back to those milestones in our courtship that brought me closer to him…things I’m sure he’d laugh at if he only knew:

One of his children is gay. It was one of the things I learned the first night we met, and I knew when he told me, the way he told me, that we shared certain values and perspectives on parenting.
I asked him what the worst job he’d ever had was. “Castrating hogs,” he said, and something inside me melted. Knowing he’d grown up in a rural community performing hard, gory work gave him a boy-next-door quality and made me feel familiar and comfortable around him. Despite his middle aged physical manifestation, I could clearly see him young and tan and shirtless, in work boots and jeans, a blade of grass dangling from his lopsided smile.
Once, very early in our relationship, I mentioned something about the college funds I’m saving for my children. He said, “You mean you don’t need me?” Swoon! “I didn’t say that,” I replied, “We just may want to postpone the nuptials until after the FAFSA forms are sent in.” And we laughed together.
I told him about the research facility at which a relative works and, before I could get into the details, he said, “Did you know they’re aiming a laser at the bottom of a mine looking for neutrinos?” Actually I did, but how many guys are smart nerdy enough to contribute that random fact into a conversation?!
Sledding.

Of course there was so much more, but I guess you can boil it down to my being a sucker for a liberal, compassionate, hard working, breadwinning, nerdy sort of guy who still likes to go sledding.

the bachelorette taught me how to date

I’ve always been a monogamist. Sure, while dating online, I’ve gone out and met a series of guys around the same time…maybe even had a few dates with several different men. But then it always seemed to become clear which one I was going to date, even if only for a bit, even before any of them asked me to be exclusive.

For that reason, it’s always been a little bit difficult to watch those Bachelorette scenes in which she talks about how much she’s looking forward to going out with (let’s say) Randy, getting to know him better, feeling the chemistry, etc. And then, not 20 minutes later (even though it’s probably a whole 24 hours in real life), she’s expressing nearly the exact same thing about Dave. And there are several guys who she thinks are great guys and she can’t wait to get to know them all better. (We, the viewers, can clearly see otherwise, so the trick is to attempt to suspend disbelief.)

At this moment in life, I’m still getting over heartache. And I know the best way to move forward and get over it is to date. So I’m taking The Bachelorette approach. I’m super clear to everyone I meet that I’ve been through some difficult stuff over the past year, that I’m mostly over it, and that I want to take my time and get to know them slowly. And I’m not going to let myself get pulled in any one direction too quickly.

I have met several guys and I am nearly in the same place I was about a year ago (except then I was getting over the ego wound I called Brad, rather than genuine heartache) — I’m going in fairly indifferent, no expectations, working to keep a positive outlook. I find it my best default position. I’ve had some really fun dates — and with some guys I am genuinely excited to meet again: there’s the East Coast Jewish guy, the local Irish Catholic (even with the stereotypical O’lastname), the traveling salesman who’s good for a fun dinner out every few weeks. All are so very different, and yet I’ve found a certain comfort and connection with each. No Lees in the bunch — yes, I still compare them all to him, but I didn’t feel what I felt for Lee until our fifth date — and our fifth date was a five-day trip!

Whether there’s a keeper among them is TBD, but there might be one among them who will finally help me get over that last guy for once and for all!

that happy

If you had told me a year ago that I would soon fall for a short, bald, portly man who felt like sunshine, I would have called you crazy. But fall I did… for a man I refer to here as Lee.

Even before we’d met, I sketched out a vision of what I wanted, in terms of lifestyle and a mate:

Regular travel — especially opportunities to adventure, ski or escape the cold midwestern winters.
Good food. A prospective mate must love sushi. And wine. And my cooking.
Some toys… I’d love a boat, enjoy biking, paddle boarding and more.
Experiences with someone who enjoys live music, theater, cooking and says “yes” to fun of all kinds.
A partner whose income as, at minimum, equal to mine. (I’ve had to support a man before. I did not enjoy it.)
And, looking ahead, I want his children to be at least as old as mine… because when mine are off to college, the heavens open up, the hallelujah chorus plays and even more travel and fun can begin for us as my / our children are off chasing their own dreams!

I never imagined I’d find all these things, even if in a package I didn’t expect — or, at first, appreciate. But he was persistent, kind, generous and thoughtful, not to mention intelligent and a ton of fun! He said yes to me, up until it was a no.

And, now, if you asked me what I want in life, I’d simply refer back to the time Lee and I spent together and say, “I want to feel that happy.” I honestly can’t imagine feeling more happy, content and fulfilled. Lee dotted all my i’s and crossed all my t’s; we seemed like a near perfect fit.

If it sounds like I’m crediting a man for all my happiness, that’s simply not true. I am a happy person because I’ve shaped my life and psyche to cultivate and nurture my own happiness. But there’s something to be said for finding someone with whom to share it all…

I’ve had to work extremely hard to get past the hurt, grief, anger and disappointment of the loss of said relationship. I’m finally moving on, meeting new men and allowing myself to have fun on dates.

So far, there have been no Lees…but I’ll know I’ve met someone special when I feel that happy.

mad, now sad

I’ve shared that I spent somewhere in the neighborhood of six to eight weeks feeling sheer, murderous rage… No, I didn’t hurt anybody, and I’ve moved on: Now I’m sad. Not depressed…but genuinely, deeply sad.

I credit all this to my ex who passed (or committed suicide, one sip at a time, depending on how you look at it) six months ago and the relationship that blossomed and disappeared all within two months of that…and then my workload doubled, my child got a concussion and my last remaining grandparent died, yada yada yada. This is life; I get it… but could the shit storm of it end for a few months, please?! All I’m asking is for a brief reprieve of ease, abundance, and good times — or a lotto win — to heal, to get beyond thinking about Lee every. single. day. Biggest mindfuck of my life! And biggest heartbreak.

As grateful as I am for a rich and rewarding life, my feelings are swaying me harder than they have ever before. I am able to get up and exercise, coach and manage others, move forward in life, behave as though everything is normal…and yet I ache. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt this much…or allowed myself to. And it sucks! Is every breakup worse than the one before?

The ridiculous thing is, I’ve been — off and on, when I’m feeling most emotionally healthy and balanced — meeting new people. I’m of two minds about this: One is in no way am I emotionally in a place where I should be looking to start a relationship. Two is that no other cure beats getting back on that horse. Ugh. What strangeness it is to feel so broken and, at a macro level, so incredibly ready to find my life mate!

As my therapist would say, “hold the tension.”

Here’s the deal (in case the universe is listening — please tell me you saw the Bill Nye / Amy Schumer video about the universe!): I’ve made my peace with being a single woman — I’ve learned to love single life, to live independently, to enjoy rich relationships with my children and girlfriends…and I. AM. SO. DONE. I want partnership. I’ve wanted partnership. I’ve stopped looking in the wrong places. I’ve stopped getting distracted by the latest bright, shiny object. I’ve found the balance between too many filters and not enough. I’m ready.

And I’m premenstrual. And, you’ll be glad to know, I’m starting grief counseling (along with my children) in two weeks.

sometimes when I think I’ve gone crazy…

I’ve had an emotional few days, after running into Lee and getting the cold shoulder. I recognize that my grief about the loss of our loving relationship is all tied up with my ex’s death, given their timing…so, when I’ve struggled emotionally, I’ve struggled mightily. I’m not trying to cast blame; I’m merely trying to get back to a good place — a place where my confidence doesn’t feel so shaken, a place where I can move forward, where I’m ready and able to meet someone and create something as amazing or better than what Lee and I shared.

Given the craziness of it all, I’ve occasionally had to check myself. Was it really that great? Am I just making up how good we were together?

Those friends of mine who’d met Lee had universally positive feedback — they could see how easy and natural we were together, they said he seemed solid and stable, and they commented on how clearly into me he was. That helps, but…

A couple of times now — after our email exchanges and after seeing him the other day — I’ve scrolled back through the relationship documented in our text history as if I were an anthropologist looking for evidence of how those two lived and related. Through these exchanges, I see two people clearly smitten with one another, flirting, teasing and making plans in a way that — had I not been a part of it — I would have envied.

But I was there. I (blue bubbles, below) was crazy about him. And he (gray) was crazy about me. Here are just a few examples:

This was an exchange the evening after he’d first told me he loved me:

A couple of days later, Lee’d had friends over for the evening. They were playing guitar and singing, while I was enjoying family time with my children.

This one may be TMI:

Then there was this…after I’d left his place on Valentine’s Day, when we’d planned the California vacation.

“You’re so right in so many ways.”

“…good times ahead for you and I [sic].”

“I missed you five minutes after you walked out.”

I feel a little guilty about sharing these screen shots, almost as though I’ve invited you into the bedroom with us. Our relationship was ours, private and sacred, not something I’d be writing about at all if we were together today. Yet, for all the times someone’s asked me what happened, heard my story and assured me it’s not me who’s crazy, I still can’t wrap my head around how we went from bliss to no communication practically overnight — and, now, to icy civility.

I know I need to stop looking back in order to embrace today and move forward. Still, seeing real, tangible evidence that we were so, so good together helps me feel a little more sane.