Tag: dating

let’s break up again

Hollywood has made a killing on romantic stories of first dates that happen over and over again.

And so, while lying in my hammock on the first lovely day of spring, remembering fondly its role in the courtship between me and my first boyfriend after becoming single again, I began musing on what I thought was a brilliant idea:  We had broken up so lovingly, maturely, beautifully…why couldn’t we break up over and over again? Why not spend one more beautiful, perfect, last day together — knowing that maybe we aren’t quite right for the long haul together — but enjoying and celebrating the love and affection we still have for one another. What could be wrong with that? Perhaps I should start on the screenplay!

So as I was remembering and musing — you’d think I’d know better — I dialed his number. To my surprise, he answered. And I rambled on for a bit about all my girlfriends thinking I’m a damn fool and how much I missed him and that I’d brought my hammock out and I told him my idea. We chatted a bit and then, as we were about to end our conversation, he asked, “So, do you want me to come over?”

And he did. And we talked and snuggled in the hammock for a bit and he said, “I’m going to take you upstairs and [this part is really not fit for print] and then we’re going to dinner and then I’m going to bring you back home and we’re going to [do that part] all over again.”

Now, y’all know by now how much I like a man with a plan. And especially one who can execute on the plan. Well, we did exactly as planned. Except for the part where he paused and told me that the only thing that could make it better than it was already was if we were in a committed relationship. And when I told him that I still couldn’t say, “YES!” to that, I know he was disappointed.

As we said our good-byes that night, he looked me in the eyes and said, “Now don’t call me again.” And I haven’t, even though I still think he’s wonderful and will miss him.

I’ve since told a few girlfriends about this, and they’ve all nodded and repeated, “mmm, breaking up again” knowingly, like it’s a thing. So apparently this is no novel idea. Apparently, for years, all around me and without my knowing it, people have been breaking up again and enjoying it! Like so many other things, I am a late bloomer when it comes to enjoying the benefits of break-up sex.

None of this brought up difficult emotions for me. I’d made my peace with where we were at — and I still think this guy is a terrific catch!

And then, earlier this weekend, I saw a little film (again) called 500 Days of Summer. Months after breaking up, main characters Tom and Summer find themselves at the same wedding / reception and she falls asleep on his shoulder on the way back to the city. She asks him to a party that weekend and, at some point that evening, he realizes that she’s engaged to a new guy…and he’s devastated.

That’s when I realized that I was Summer and he was Tom, and inviting my former man back into my life for a day may have given him false hope of reconciliation and was, probably, actually kind of cruel…and that hurting him was the furthest thing from my intent.

Toward the end, the two leads run into one another again and, in the course of their conversation (I may be paraphrasing here), Summer, now married, says, “One day I woke up and I just knew.”

Tom:  “Knew what?”

Summer:  “All those things I was never certain about with you.”

And I guess that articulates really well what so many of us are looking for:  certainty, something to which we can say YES!

Oh well. Lesson learned. But I’m still toying with that screenplay idea, Hollywood.

p.s. If you haven’t seen the movie, do — it’s a tale wonderfully told. Besides, who can resist Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Zooey Deschanel?

proud of us

If there’s one thing I can say about my recently ended relationship, it’s that I am so proud of the way we conducted ourselves. I haven’t always been able to say so, and I’m just so glad to see how much I’d grown:

  • I stood up for myself when it was called for.
  • I broke down and allowed myself to cry and shared what I was feeling in the moment when it was the right time to do that (i.e. when it was authentic to what I was feeling).
  • I accepted and admitted where my baggage needed some tidying up, and was willing to see it, own it and make some changes in my own behavior. And I was willing to draw the line and say so when the baggage wasn’t mine.
  • I argued well and respectfully.
  • I was genuine and truthful.
  • I gave love a chance. I was present with an open heart and mind.
  • He was a gentleman and employed excellent manners.
  • He showed discipline and adherence to principles such as honesty, respect and justice.
  • He allowed me to be a bit of a princess, but let me know where the line was.

I’m not saying I don’t have room to improve. I certainly witnessed / experienced areas within myself that still require some healing or some work. And I’m going to nurture myself and take care of those things and go on with life and, some day, new relationships.

Right now, I’m just grateful and happy to have experienced a truly rewarding, respectful and fun relationship. I feel nothing but love and respect for my recent ex …which is more than I can say for my ex ex! I’m proud of us and the way we cared for and supported one another, and it’s a blessing to be able to look back and feel that way.

my dating story

Earlier today, The Plankton was lovely enough to post a little something I’d written about my recent relationship and break-up. I was surprised at some of the commentary it received, and reading some of those comments really made me think about the entire dating experience:

Months ago, actually about a year ago, I started dating. I think I thought I was looking for something special. I think I thought I’d be ready for something special if it came along. I think I thought I’d end up going on three or four dates with a few different blokes before deciding to share more time with a single one among them. I think I thought I’d have some varied experiences against which to measure a man. I think I thought it would all begin a little more slowly. I think I thought it would take time to meet someone special.

So no one was more surprised than me when a gentleman asked for an exclusive arrangement early in our dating relationship. And it turned out he was pretty darned great!

Looking back, I’m a bit surprised how quickly a few weeks became a few months and then suddenly it was six months. And, looking back, I had no idea how difficult it would be to keep my life in balance with children and other obligations, especially starting a new job. And he, too, started a new job and, rightfully, wanted a supportive girlfriend…which I was sometimes available to be.

From what others tell me, six months seems to be a new magical number in adult dating, one I hadn’t realized before. That’s apparently when things “get serious” or don’t. And, life being what it is, I realized that I’m just not ready for a serious relationship right at this moment. Even with a great guy. I haven’t really dated or had any other relationships since my (obviously) unsuccessful marriage.

I’m not sure I was mentally or emotionally prepared to fully embrace the possibility that the very first person I really dated since my divorce could be the person with whom I’d want to spend the rest of my life.

My failed relationship lasted, give or take, a dozen years. And, despite the ambivalence I feel about having a serious relationship right this minute, I do genuinely desire partnership and hope to find the mate with whom I’ll spend the rest of my life. Given my family’s genetic make-up, that could easily mean spending more than forty years with someone. So I’d like to consider carefully, take my time, and be healed and whole enough to make a better choice than I made last time around.

I think I could have gone on dating and enjoying and being with a man — this particular man — for much, much longer, in a sort of dating status quo. If he’d asked, “Do you want to stay together? Do you want to continue to spend time with me?” my answer was simple: “Yeah, for sure. You’re wonderful. Why wouldn’t I?”

But he was looking for a different answer to a different question. He wanted to know: “Woman, are you as crazy about me as I am about you?” And he was looking for a resounding “YES!”

I still believe it’s possible that my “Yeah” would have grown into a “YES!” over time. I didn’t need the knock-kneed, butterflies-in-the-stomach feelings of infatuation to care deeply for and share physical excitement with this man. I wasn’t seeking perfection. I was willing to take time to allow my feelings to grow and blossom naturally.

In the end, he thought I’d had enough time to know. My having been honest about how I felt, he chose to venture back out there in search of that woman who is absolutely, positively crazy about him. And I can’t say that I blame him…because who among us doesn’t want that?

basking in the glow

I’ve written about my guy and about the aftermath of our break-up which, thanks to a loving and respectful relationship and split, has been minimal. But I wanted to write a bit more about the things I miss, because I think they say a lot about the kind of relationship we had:  I miss being hugged and held and Eskimo kisses. I miss hearing that I’m valued, and worthy and appealing and attractive and that someone finds me a blessing in his life. I miss being caressed all night. I miss feeling the glow of being in another’s light.

And I will have to learn or remember how to fill myself with these wonderful thoughts and words and messages and feelings. Because they matter. And because healthy adults are able to fulfill themselves.

But these are parts of my former relationship that are going to be hard to replace. I will do my best, of course, but there’s something really valuable and meaningful about having someone in your life to tell you your stomach (i.e. paunch) is beautiful and love you even though you’ve gained back over the holidays all the weight you lost in the past year.

My children and I briefly talked about my no longer having a boyfriend. I shared with them that I’ll miss spending time with him…things like cuddling on the sofa while watching a movie, to which one of my darlings immediately — and indignantly — replied, “I thought that was our job!”

And I said, “It is. It still is.”

And, as it turns out, when you’re a parent, you still get to bask in the glow — even if it’s an entirely different kind of glow than that of a lover.

 

little thing to which I cling

There is nothing remarkable about the fact that I threw my few-month-old toothbrush in the trash a couple of weeks ago and plucked a new one from the cabinet. The bristles at the edges of the old one were bowed out and I was beginning to sense that it might not be optimally effective. Perhaps it is a bit more telling that, at the time, even though my former beau and I had broken up, I couldn’t yet bring myself to throw away the spare toothbrush he kept in the bathroom cabinet.

I actually had it in my grasp and was about to toss it, but somehow I wasn’t quite ready yet. And I’ve learned to be gentle with myself about the weird small things I sometimes feel inclined to hold onto for just a bit longer. Even now, it’s there, occupying the space next to mine, tucked close to the edge — in part to go undetected by the children.

It’s not likely to make the next round of bathroom cleaning. In fact, it make not make it through the day. If we were to change our minds, to find our way back to each other, the cost of a new toothbrush would certainly be no barrier or hurdle. I don’t think that is likely to happen. Yet I let it rest in its place, a single small reminder of the sweet and wonderful things its user brought in to my life for a while…and I smile fondly.

withdrawal

I suppose it was inevitable that my body would begin to go through withdrawal symptoms.

I mean, this has been my weekend:  I felt sick, I pulled myself together for a single family outing (presumably for the sole purpose of listening to two hours of bickering), I overdosed on hot Tang and Netflix and, finally, today I’ve awoken with swollen lymph nodes, an even sorer sore throat and a seemingly incurable case of 40-year-old divorcee libido.

In fact, the dream from which I awoke was distinguished in my personal history by the vast number of naked bodies and penises that graced it. Room after white room of naked bodies languidly sprawled on white-dressed beds, like multiple Calvin Klein underwear ads occurring simultaneously, but without the underwear. Yes, there were naked women, too, but the naked men and their generously sized semi-erect members (member — who ever thought of that euphemism, anyway?!) were the dominant feature of my dream. The bodies appeared artfully arranged and were seemingly both post coital and ready to serve. I wandered from room to room, greeted by the occasional unashamed acquaintance…and then I awoke. Horny.

Here we have a situation 80s hair band Cinderella so eloquently sang about in their ballad, “Don’t Know What You Got (Until It’s Gone).” In other words, over the past several months, I’ve had the luxury of forgetting entirely what it’s like to be sexually unfulfilled. It was a luxury (along with so many others, like feeling loved and appreciated, for example) that I appreciated. Yet that doesn’t ease the urgency or pain of what I’m missing now.

Of course this is just one of many things I do and will miss about being in a relationship and the gentleman with whom I was involved, specifically. But that doesn’t make it any easier to manage these unfulfilled desires, at least not in the short term…at least while I’m out of the habit of replenishing my battery supply.

another first single weekend

This is my first weekend off (meaning without my children) since the break-up.

While we have exchanged a few texts and talked on the phone once since deciding to no longer see one another, we’ve mostly stuck to our agreement to not contact one another. My suspicion is that, if we were to do otherwise, it would be too easy to commiserate, to find ourselves back in each other’s arms… all of which, as lovely as it sounds, would derail us both from our long-term desires.

And yet, having awakened at 3am with watery eyes, a sore throat and clogged sinuses, called in sick and spent the day working from home in my pajamas, it’s tempting to play the sympathy card. After all, what could be the harm in asking someone to come and apply some balm to my wounds? It was bound to be a lonely weekend at any rate, I’m hoping to get better, stay strong and get some work done.

Will I resist temptation? Stay tuned…