I've been trying to write this post for a few weeks now, but it has been a difficult one to write—mostly because I didn't want to talk to anyone about it. I knew how most would listen to my news, analyze it, and respond: "You are feeling [insert what they think I'm feeling] because [insert their reasoning]." I get it—the people who love me are always trying to protect me from ever feeling hurt again.
But I don't want to hear an analysis of my feelings from anyone right now. I'm not even sure what these emotions are, and shouldn't I be the one who knows best on that subject? My feelings are complicated, just not that easy to understand or to share.
But then I got to thinking—letting out thoughts and feelings is the point of a blog. Isn't it so I can write to the unknown cyberspace my deepest, personal feelings in hopes that someone out there can relate with me and find what I say useful? Gosh, I sure hope so. Otherwise, what would be the point of all this?
So while this might be waaaaaay more personal than I feel like revealing, this blog entry is for everyone out there who has ever been hurt by a relationship—and who needs the strength to overcome it.
It all started a few weeks ago when finally I made a decision. You see, someone who has been a big part of my life lately left town at the beginning of summer. With him gone until August, I figured that I could take the time to decipher my feelings for him, but first, I would enjoy time for me. I needed to take time to smell the roses, to bask in the sunshine, to enjoy the music—
But then I paused to listen...and realized that the tune had stopped. The music had died. The silence was empty, and the melody I had been hearing for the past few months seemed awkwardly absent. I missed it, and I couldn't wait until it was back in my life—surely I wasn't that dumb to dismiss a sign like that!
So I stopped analyzing and stopped thinking and just decided to go with my heart. My heart didn't know much—let's face it, it never does—but I was certain of what made me happy right now, and I decided to throw logic and analysis out the window, to throw away my fears about the future, and to open my heart to potential love.
I was too late.
Dearest Mr. Songwriter,
I know you probably won't get this until tomorrow, but I wanted to say something that I wasn't able to get out over the phone. I am very sad that things didn't work out, and I take full responsibility for it. I knew there would come a time when it just became too hard for you to stay in love with me while constantly being pushed away. I knew that there would come a time when you just had to walk away from me. All this time, I knew it was a risk, but I really didn't have a choice—I couldn't do things any other way. I wish I could have gotten myself together sooner, but I knew that I did the best I could under the circumstances. I know I'm too late. And right now I am probably still not totally together and, who knows, could even back-track from where I am now, so I guess you are right—it was just not meant to be for us. You deserve someone who is more like you, who is ready for you right now, and who is not going to push you away from them for as long as I did.
I know that, so far, this e-mail is all stuff you know. But here's what you don't know—you will always be very, very special to me. I cannot even tell you what you have meant to me during these past ten months. Your compassion has helped me outwardly deal with a lot of feelings and emotions that I kept bottled up around other people since my divorce. Your patience has helped me actually move toward a point of healing and prepared me so much more for any future relationship that I may or may not have. Your humorous and fun spirit has been a rope to pull me through some really rough, sad times. Your music and songwriting have been inspiring to me and will stick with me for the rest of my life. Your trustworthiness and honesty have helped me believe that I might be able to get past the fear of betrayal someday. And your love has been so precious to me because you made me feel as though I was actually someone worth loving again, and words cannot even express to you how much I needed that at exactly the time you gave it to me.
So please don't feel guilty about deciding that you no longer wanted this relationship, or whatever it really was. Please don't think that you caused me any undeserved pain—I know you never intended to hurt me at all, but it was only a matter of time before I had to face hurt of some kind. It was not your job to protect me from that. Sometimes people come into our lives for a reason, but they are not always meant to stay forever. I think we both helped each other in some way or another, and now the time has come for us to go down our separate paths, and that's okay. I know you are going to find someone absolutely perfect for you, who you adore beyond measure, and who loves you more than you can even imagine. I don't regret a single minute of our relationship because I know that I am coming out of it with so much more than what I walked into it with.
So thank you, Mr. Songwriter, for everything. I love you for who you are and for all that you are to me.
Forever fearless,
Dumbfounded Divorcée
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
To Online Date, or Not to Online Date...
At approximately 2:30 a.m. the other day, I received the following message on Facebook:
It is truly unbelievable the lengths that people will now go for love. Our society has gone as far as spam-dating: sending out mass messages to random groups of people in hopes that one of those messages will reach a future Mr./Mrs. Right.
Pathetic? Simply Genius? I haven't yet decided, but one thing is for certain—most of our society is agressively determined to find "true love". . . or maybe just to find someone for those oh-so-lonely nights.
Whichever.
When I got married, I didn't feel any pressure to "have" someone. I was twenty-five years old at the time, so most of my friends were still single. No husband, no kids—no problem. I got married because I wanted to get married to the person who asked me. And because we didn't think there was any reason for us to wait.
Now that I am post-divorce, I realize that there does come a time when it becomes difficult being single and living in a "married" world. All my close friends are married. Most have kids. When I log into Facebook, I am bombarded with pictures and status updates of weddings, honeymoons, anniversaries, babies, second babies, and the like. (I shamefully admit that sometimes I even scroll through the list of "People You May Know," halfway hoping to see some old acquaintance looking sorrowfully unattached. You know, misery loves company...and a dateable old flame.) I am met only with profile pictures of happy pairs, smiling and hugging, looking into each other's eyes with adoration.
And so, recently, I have emerged from the cloud of intentional solitude, the joyousness of "no strings," the elation of feeling free as a bird, and instead...felt alone.
Don't get me wrong—this "alone" feeling is GREAT. Fantastic, even. Because if I am actually starting to feel sadness at being alone instead of being hell-bent on celebrating my independence like it's a freaking holiday, then maybe I am finally ready to be in a relationship again.
Maybe. But still, that's healing, right? :)
Now, instead of the "to date, or not to date" question, the new question is how do I find someone to date? If you have noticed, my bad-luck dating stories have been fewer and farther between lately. After being set up by practically every single one of my friends and having skulked around the local night scene on several entertaining occassions, I am running out of options for meeting new (normal) people in my city (emphasis on the word normal, if you please...).
And then, because this is the twenty-first century, and due to the fact that I am getting spam-dating FB messages, I am once again reminded of the newest trend in single living: online dating.
Now I have always been completely against online dating—at least as far as it applied to me. Sure, I have tons of friends who met their soul mates on Match.com, E-Harmony, Christian Mingle, or J-Date; they went on several first dates, found the love of their lives, were married within a couple years, and all lived happily ever after. My life, however, has never really followed that fairy-tale plot line, so I'm not incredibly optimistic about allowing the internet gods to control the fate of my love life.
I have had only one experience in online dating, and that story takes us back to the summer before my freshman year of college. Cue the flashback music...now!
During the summer before I started college, America Online was the country's preferred mode of online communication. Everyone who was anyone had an AOL screen name and "chatted" with friends, as well as random people. There was a way for users to search profiles for various information in those profiles, so I had random people chatting with me frequently. As soon as I was accepted to college, I listed in my profile the name of the college, so, at once, I started to receive chat messages from other incoming students who had "found" me by searching for that school online.
One of random messages came from a guy who was also going to be a freshman that fall. Let's call him Goofy because I swear that's exactly how I remember him looking—yup, absolutely goofy, but not of the sweet, endearing sort. Goofy fell more into the creepy sort.
Being the intelligent, street-smart girl that I was at eighteen, I ended up meeting the guy for a date. He asked me to the movies once we had both arrived at college in September. First of all, I had to borrow a car and pick him up—though he asked me out, he apparently thought that I would find it terribly convenient to ask one of the girls in my dorm—who I had known for about two weeks, mind you—if I could borrow their car. Classy of me, I know. I guess I figured, at least I had a way home should something go terribly wrong.
So, I'm sitting there in the movie thinking, what am I doing on a date with this guy?!? Not only was he really goofy looking, there was definitely something weird about the way he kept looking at me. And geez, he did the whole stretch-to-put-your-arm-around-the-girl move. I mean, really? I did what any girl would do in such a situation—sat as far away from him as possible, crossed my legs away from him, and leaned forward a bit to show that I definitely did not want his arm around me. However, Goofy was not too bright. Right in the middle of the scene in Pleasantville where Toby Maguire's mom turns to color, Goofy leans forward, turns toward me, and starts coming in for the kiss...gross. After ducking under his arm and sitting the rest of the movie in uncomfortable silence, I vowed that my excursions into online dating had met their disgusting end.
And if that memory not enough to scare me in the other direction, I have Bear's story about the date he met online who gave him full description of her recent abortion—it makes for great dinner-table talk on the first date, let me assure you.
In spite of all the online-dating horror stories, I know that it has proven to be useful for many people. Maybe it's worth a shot? If nothing else, maybe I will get some entertaining stories out of it?
Thus, to online date, or not to online date? That is the question...now, it's time for your answer!
Forever fearless,
Dumbfounded Divorcée
Did I mention that I have absolutely no idea who this is?"Love is not about finding the right person, but creating a right relationship. It's not about how much love you have in the beginning but how much love you build till the end.. My name is paul martins.... I see your picture and i willl love to know you better ... i am single and i looking for a friend or more meaningful relationship that will leads to marriage.. i need a woman to grow old with .. hope to hear from you soon.. add me on yahoo messenger mrpaulmatins@yahoo.com i am always online there too..."
It is truly unbelievable the lengths that people will now go for love. Our society has gone as far as spam-dating: sending out mass messages to random groups of people in hopes that one of those messages will reach a future Mr./Mrs. Right.
Pathetic? Simply Genius? I haven't yet decided, but one thing is for certain—most of our society is agressively determined to find "true love". . . or maybe just to find someone for those oh-so-lonely nights.
Whichever.
When I got married, I didn't feel any pressure to "have" someone. I was twenty-five years old at the time, so most of my friends were still single. No husband, no kids—no problem. I got married because I wanted to get married to the person who asked me. And because we didn't think there was any reason for us to wait.
Now that I am post-divorce, I realize that there does come a time when it becomes difficult being single and living in a "married" world. All my close friends are married. Most have kids. When I log into Facebook, I am bombarded with pictures and status updates of weddings, honeymoons, anniversaries, babies, second babies, and the like. (I shamefully admit that sometimes I even scroll through the list of "People You May Know," halfway hoping to see some old acquaintance looking sorrowfully unattached. You know, misery loves company...and a dateable old flame.) I am met only with profile pictures of happy pairs, smiling and hugging, looking into each other's eyes with adoration.
And so, recently, I have emerged from the cloud of intentional solitude, the joyousness of "no strings," the elation of feeling free as a bird, and instead...felt alone.
Don't get me wrong—this "alone" feeling is GREAT. Fantastic, even. Because if I am actually starting to feel sadness at being alone instead of being hell-bent on celebrating my independence like it's a freaking holiday, then maybe I am finally ready to be in a relationship again.
Maybe. But still, that's healing, right? :)
Now, instead of the "to date, or not to date" question, the new question is how do I find someone to date? If you have noticed, my bad-luck dating stories have been fewer and farther between lately. After being set up by practically every single one of my friends and having skulked around the local night scene on several entertaining occassions, I am running out of options for meeting new (normal) people in my city (emphasis on the word normal, if you please...).
And then, because this is the twenty-first century, and due to the fact that I am getting spam-dating FB messages, I am once again reminded of the newest trend in single living: online dating.
Now I have always been completely against online dating—at least as far as it applied to me. Sure, I have tons of friends who met their soul mates on Match.com, E-Harmony, Christian Mingle, or J-Date; they went on several first dates, found the love of their lives, were married within a couple years, and all lived happily ever after. My life, however, has never really followed that fairy-tale plot line, so I'm not incredibly optimistic about allowing the internet gods to control the fate of my love life.
I have had only one experience in online dating, and that story takes us back to the summer before my freshman year of college. Cue the flashback music...now!
During the summer before I started college, America Online was the country's preferred mode of online communication. Everyone who was anyone had an AOL screen name and "chatted" with friends, as well as random people. There was a way for users to search profiles for various information in those profiles, so I had random people chatting with me frequently. As soon as I was accepted to college, I listed in my profile the name of the college, so, at once, I started to receive chat messages from other incoming students who had "found" me by searching for that school online.
One of random messages came from a guy who was also going to be a freshman that fall. Let's call him Goofy because I swear that's exactly how I remember him looking—yup, absolutely goofy, but not of the sweet, endearing sort. Goofy fell more into the creepy sort.
Being the intelligent, street-smart girl that I was at eighteen, I ended up meeting the guy for a date. He asked me to the movies once we had both arrived at college in September. First of all, I had to borrow a car and pick him up—though he asked me out, he apparently thought that I would find it terribly convenient to ask one of the girls in my dorm—who I had known for about two weeks, mind you—if I could borrow their car. Classy of me, I know. I guess I figured, at least I had a way home should something go terribly wrong.
So, I'm sitting there in the movie thinking, what am I doing on a date with this guy?!? Not only was he really goofy looking, there was definitely something weird about the way he kept looking at me. And geez, he did the whole stretch-to-put-your-arm-around-the-girl move. I mean, really? I did what any girl would do in such a situation—sat as far away from him as possible, crossed my legs away from him, and leaned forward a bit to show that I definitely did not want his arm around me. However, Goofy was not too bright. Right in the middle of the scene in Pleasantville where Toby Maguire's mom turns to color, Goofy leans forward, turns toward me, and starts coming in for the kiss...gross. After ducking under his arm and sitting the rest of the movie in uncomfortable silence, I vowed that my excursions into online dating had met their disgusting end.
And if that memory not enough to scare me in the other direction, I have Bear's story about the date he met online who gave him full description of her recent abortion—it makes for great dinner-table talk on the first date, let me assure you.
In spite of all the online-dating horror stories, I know that it has proven to be useful for many people. Maybe it's worth a shot? If nothing else, maybe I will get some entertaining stories out of it?
Thus, to online date, or not to online date? That is the question...now, it's time for your answer!
Should DD try online dating?
Forever fearless,
Dumbfounded Divorcée
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