Oh Loverboy

So again, it's been a while.  I know, I said it was going to be the last time I had a long break in my blogging life, but some big developments have been happening since my last post, and I can't wait to update you all about it—but not yet!  Today, I have one bad-dating story that has been on the writing block for a while.  His name is Mr. Loverboy—and you will soon see why.

Just when I thought Mr. Black Sneakers had been the nail in the online-dating coffin, I received another interesting profile from Mr. Loverboy—so why not?  I might as well give it one final try.  Can't be that bad, right?

Ha.  Whoever said I was intelligent enough to be a teacher obviously did not consider my decision-making skills when it comes to romance.  Good thing I teach English and not sex ed.

The new profile is Mr. Loverboy's, and we go through the usual eHarmony requirements—stupid questions like, "What are your three best traits?" and "What is the most adventuresome thing you have ever done?" and "What would you be doing on a typical night at home?"  I always cringe and end communication when the potential date sends me a really personal one like, "If I had a bad day, what would you do to make me feel better?"  Honestly, dude, I'm quite sure the man's dream is to hear about foot rubs and sexual favors, but let me knock you on the head with reality, bubba—no respectable girl is going to say that to a complete stranger, even if you have hit the jackpot and found a girl who is actually thinking it.

Qualities about Mr. Loverboy that I learned from online communication were few but interesting:

1. He's from South Carolina (southern gentlemen, maybe?).
2. He's in med school (wahoo!) for podiatry (eh...good enough).
3. He is 36 years old and never married (I'm gonna go with 'focused on his career'...).
4. He has a sense of humor (joking around through online means is always difficult, and he accomplished it).
5. He's well travelled—been to Ireland and very proud of his Irish heritage.
6. He is very close to his brother (loves family, check), exercises regularly (not fat, check), and has several close friends in the area (not socially inept, check).

Well, so far looking good...or so I thought.  After talking via text message and the phone, I uncover some red flags.

First, I get the following message from him:  Do you have a problem with guys with tattoos?

Okay, now don't get me wrong, I have no problem with a guy who puts some design on his arm or a symbol on his shoulder, but is this guy asking because he has his ex-girlfriend's name across his forehead?  A naked woman across his back?  Ink covering more than 50% of his body?  I start to feel a bit nervous.

Next, I get this:  I have a really good feeling about this!  You are so beautiful and so nice!

Sweet...but you haven't met me yet.  Maybe I'm pessimistic when it comes to relationships after my divorce, but I still feel like seeing each other in person is not entirely overrated.

Mr. Loverboy is giving me a bad feeling with his loverboy tendencies.  His text messages are getting pretty flirtatious—for example, when asked what I was doing, and I responded "watching a movie at home," he replied: What are u watchin?  I could hold you close if I was watching with u :)

Should I be weirded out?  Maybe I'm a hopeless romantic, but something kept me optimistic.  Maybe he is really just a NICE guy.  Romantic, even.  Would that be so strange?  There are nice, romantic, loving men out there...right?

Yikes.  My optimism really does sound like idiocy when you see it written on paper.

Date 1:  He picks me up and takes me to dinner.  He asks me out.  He makes the plans.  He picks the restaurant.  Now, maybe I'm too nice, but even despite these circumstances, I do the mock-reach to my purse and make a half-hearted offer to split the bill when it comes.  His response?

"Yeah sure!  That'd be great!"

On the first date?!?  I don't even get the first date paid meal?!?  Wow, this date must have been bad!  Inside, I'm thinking, he must not be planning on seeing me again.

Wrong.  He ninja-kisses me when we get into the car and says he would love to see me again.  I'm still being my annoyingly optimistic self, so I hesitantly agree to give it another chance, but all considering?

Strike 1.

Date 2:  Mr. Loverboy asks me out again, and this time, there is no way I'm paying.  I'm not even going to offer—so there!  Again, he picks the restaurant, and it's expensive.  Oh, well, I tell myself.  I'm not going to feel bad, I'm not going to give in...  As he noticeably wrestles over whether we should order a bottle of wine with his very loud murmurs ("...wow, $80 for wine?  Maybe we should just drink when we get back to my house..."), I get irritated and excuse myself to the bathroom to compose myself.

Okay, he's a med student...maybe he's just poor with student loans!  Stop being judgmental!  I talk myself down and head back to the table, praying that he decided on that bottle of wine because I'm definitely feeling like I need a good, strong drink....

However, while this part of the date is going badly, he is clearly trying to impress me with his little smiles across the table.  It's kind of...sweet.  I'm starting to feel a bit better—but then we get back to his place.

"Want to see my tattoo?"

Oh yeah, the tattoo.  Totally forgot about that one.  I think I manage to give a nervous nod as he takes off his shirt to reveal...

HOLY GEEZ!  There are no words.  Because I'm not looking at a tattoo...I'm looking at the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.  Literally.

I mean it—this was Mr. Loverboy's back, complete with naked people, and cherub angels, and clouds, and...stuff.  I am trying to keep a poker face, free of all expression.  So. Really. Trying.  All the while, Mr. Loverboy is standing there giving me proud glances over his shoulder, clearly believing my silence means that he has utterly impressed me beyond speech.
Thankfully, it is the end of the date, and I march out of there thinking that's it.  No more crazy dates.  Then Rowdy does a very un-Rowdy thing to do—she sides with Mr. Loverboy:

"Tattoos are a very personal thing.  You said that he told you he got it after his parents died...you can't judge him based on that!  It is meaningful to him, and you will find that with most people who decide to get a tattoo of that magnitude."

Well, now of course, I'm an awful person.  Judgmental.  Heartless.  Cruel.  So I did what each one of you expected me to do all along—when he called to ask me out for a third time, I said yes.  In my head, though?

Strike 2.

Date 3:  Mr. Loverboy asks me over to watch a movie = no money issues.  Great.  I love movies.  However, this movie came with a special preview attraction:

"I know that your birthday is a few days away, so I got you something that I would like you to have..."

"Oh, no!"  I quickly interrupt, "Really, you didn't have to get me anything...I mean, it's only the third date...really."

He cuts me off just as suddenly.  "No, I want you to have it.  It means a lot to me, and you mean a lot to me.  I know it has only been a short time, but I just have this really good feeling about you and me...well, close your eyes.  I want to surprise you."  

I make a few more good arguments, but I am unable to fight him off, so I finally give in and close my eyes.  Mr. Loverboy puts something tiny and metal in my hands.





"This necklace was a very special purchase that I made when I went to Ireland a few years ago.  Inside the necklace is a real four-leaf clover.  I saw it in a store, and I knew that I had to buy it and give it to someone special when the right person came along someday.  And I want you to have it..."









SIRENS!!!!!!  CLANGING BELLS!!!!!  RED FLAGS!!!!!  This time it is not my imagination, I am not being judgmental, and I am clearly being too nice!!!  It's like a promise NECKLACE!

You don't even want to know the excuses I had to make to get myself out of THIS one.  It is way too embarrassing.

Strike 3.  I was out.  And I meant it, too...no more eHarmony, no more uncomfortable dinners, no more failed attempts to find love—no more dating.

Or so I thought.

Lesson #15 in Post-Divorce Dating:  How do you call your loverboy?  Apparently, you don't; the loverboys come at you whether you like it or not.  So instead of calling your loverboy to see if he answers, save yourself from awkwardly rejecting necklaces (and implied marriage proposals), and avoid loverboy-types at all costs.  But the song was correct about one thing—love is definitely strange.

Forever fearless,
Dumbfounded Divorcée

Real Men Use Emoticons

Bursley:     DD!!! My brother's friend is single! (we like him but not his previous taste in women) - and Ben would like to know if you would be at all interested in meeting him? He is a police officer, likes to go out with friends, very social, plays baseball, likes to bike ride of course and golf. He graduated from Lynn U where he played baseball. He is from MA...loves the red sox.

DD:     Are you really setting me up from 1000+ miles away?  That's love.

My old roommate and dear friend from college, Bursley, has a brother (Ben) very close in age who happens to live about an hour away from me, so when I get this text message, I am surprised at how far news of my dating dry spell had reached.

I pass along my number to Bursley so she can pass it on to her brother, who can then pass it on to his single friend (oh, the lengths I seem to go for a date).  A couple days later, I receive my first message:

Hi :)  I am the friend that Bursley's brother told you about.  How are you?

We continue to text back and forth, and, before long, my new friend has earned his name:  Officer Smiley.

Officer Smiley:     That's okay, I understand you've been busy.  Saturday sounds like a great day...I'll call you and we can make plans :)  Do you like sushi?

Officer Smiley:     Hahaha it is a little disturbing to think about eating raw food lol.  I was thinking we could go out somewhere and have a drink :)  you're down south right?

 Officer Smiley:     :)  I can't let you do that lol...besides, I've never been to your area.  One thing- I have no idea whats down there lol. what's a good place to go?

Officer Smiley:     That sounds fantastic! :)  I'm excited!  Ben has told me so much about you.

 Officer Smiley:     :)  Yeah I guess you're right.  Definitely a first for me but I'm looking forward to it.  You seem very nice :)

Count 'em...one, two, three, four, five, six smiley faces.  Okay, I don't judge.  I ask my trusted male advisers about the use of happy faces in text messages by guys to see what they think.

DD:     Need blog help - what is your response to men using excessive smiley faces in text messages?  Like every message?

Bear:     That is just stupid and weird. how old is he?

Todd:     I use them maybe once every thousand texts—with Rowdy.  And that's it.

Great Dane:     Sounds a little strange.  Trying to be cute or something.  Of course, I've been married since texting has come out, so maybe not the best to ask.

 Big D:      :-)  haha!

Determined not to write another guy off before I've given him a chance, we set up our date:  dinner at Bahama Breeze, halfway between both of our houses.

And dinner is actually nice!  Officer Smiley is definitely a very smiley type of person, but he's nice, charming, and pays for dinner...so far, no red flags.  He even insists upon walking me out to my car as we continue to chat.

"Thanks so much for dinner," I say.  "I had a really nice time.

"So did I!  I'm so glad we finally got to meet.  Bursley and Ben started talking you up as soon as I broke up with my ex, and they didn't let up!" he laughs.

Oh yeah, the ex, I think.  I remember something about that.  My curiosity gets the better of me, so I decide just to come out with it.  "Yeah, I heard from Bursley that you had recently been through a pretty bad break-up.  How long had you two been together?" I ask casually, trying not to sound like I'm prying.

He remains silent for a second and then drops the bomb.  "Ten years."

What the...?!?  Ten YEARS???!!!???  Break-ups are difficult after ten weeks, devastating after ten months, but ten years?  I can't even imagine...how long does it take to get over that?  So I ask the next burning question in my mind:  "So, um, how long ago was that break-up exactly?"

Officer Smiley begins to squirm uncomfortably.  "About...two months ago?" he responds without really looking at me, more of a question than an answer.  Like he's trying to figure out whether I'm thinking that he's actually completely out of his mind...or if he's really just that desperate to get laid again.

"Um...okay...wow.  Um, are you, like, okay?" I slowly ask, trying to keep a sympathetic face, not wanting to display the utter disbelief I feel.  I think about how it's been two years since my four-year marriage ended, and I'm only just now feeling okay.

As he opens up about his recent heartache, I hear the usual—"it had been over for a long time" and "it was for the best" and "I'm already over it."  I can't stop my mind from drifting...is it wise to involve myself with someone potentially carrying just as much baggage into the relationship as I am?  I decide not.

But if nothing else, Bursley was right about one thing—the date did have a happy ending because it made me realize that I have come a long, long way since that bad break-up called divorce.  Thank goodness I don't have to go through that again.  Poor Officer Smiley...he has a lot of growing (and possibly growing up) to do in the coming months.

Lesson #14 in Post-Divorce Dating:  How long does it take to heal a broken heart?  There is no specific standard for how long it takes to move on after a relationship ends.  Many people say it takes half the length of your relationship; therefore, beware a man who is in month two of his 5-year plan...lol...wink... ;-)

Forever fearless,
Dumbfounded Divorcée

Five Hours of Fashion Faux Pas: My Date with Mr. Black Sneakers

So I went on a date with a guy wearing black sneakers.

Yep, that's all I needed to say, right?  Black sneakers.  That's as far as I got in my story during Christmas dinner, and it was enough to have cousin almost shoot wine through her nose.

Now the black sneakers didn't look like these:

Or these...

Or even these...

(Yes, even those last ones would have been a step up.)

Until I become more stealthy at taking covert pictures on my dates, I've had to try and find via Google the best replica that I can, and the closest I've come are these:

But honestly, they might have been even worse.

Pair that up with "mom" jeans, and you have tragic.  Then cap it off with an expectation of a 40-year-old man who looks thirty-five, and a reality of a 40-year-old man who looks forty-five, and what you have left is just one really long ass date with that creepy middle-aged neighbor who lived down the street from your childhood home and who everyone thought was a pedophile.

After dinner, a hockey game, and a car ride out of the jam-packed arena parking lot (WOW, long date!), we didn't seem sorry to say good-byes.

No second date happening here.

But then I start thinking...why didn't he want a second date?!?  I'm cool...right?  Surely Mr. Black Sneakers wasn't looking at me thinking: Gosh, look at those flats, so out of style!  And who on earth picked out that shirt?! Wow, doesn't she have a friend who can tell her that hairstyle is soooo '90s...?  What if the past five hours were just as excruciating to him as they were to me?  Sadly, the thought did not even cross my mind until after I watched his car pull away from the parking lot where he had dropped me at mine.

 I did try to ignore the fashion faux pas and get to know the inner Mr. Black Sneakers during our date.   But maybe I'm too judgmental on outward appearances?  Is it wrong to size up a guy based on how they look on the outside, or is it recommended that you sit through dinner, a hockey game, and a car ride before you can veto a second date?

I conclude it was wrong of me to assume that a forty-year-old man in black sneakers would be thrilled to be out, no matter who he was a date with, but I realize that I really did try to keep an open mind throughout our date. I certainly do not want to be a shallow person looking at only inner beauty, but there is something to be said for outward appearances giving you a lot of insight into personality.  Mr. Black Sneakers and I just didn't click, appearances aside, and I believe that first impressions really do tell you a lot about a person—which presents the question:  what does my first impression say about me?

I have never really wondered what my dates think about on their way home from meeting me.  I'm so busy debating on whether or not I liked them, I forget to consider whether they liked me.  Obviously, this guy didn't.  Maybe I'm not as date-able as I think I am...

But at least I won't be the one wearing black sneakers.

Lesson #13 in Post-Divorce Dating:  Never commit to a five-hour date with a complete stranger who you met on eHarmony.  It is not shallow to promise only a drink or coffee before making any further obligations.  Also recommended?  Before the date, ask the guy to send you a full-body picture of himself in his normal attire—and holding a newspaper with the current date clearly visible.

Forever fearless,
Dumbfounded Divorcée

Online Dating Hating

I am so busy that I literally don't have time to think.  As a teacher, we quickly become masterminds at hearing twelve questions simultaneously, sorting each question out in our heads like pieces of a puzzle:

Student #1:     I don't understand how to do this question!  I need help!
Student #2:     Where is the handout for the homework?
Student #3:     Can I turn my homework in late because my dog ate it last night?
Student #4:     I need a new book to read—this one is boring.
Student #5:     Why did I get an "F" on this project?!?  I worked SO hard on it!
Student #6:     Ms. DD, I need to go to the bathroom—I'm going, okay?

After years of teaching, you find the ability to fire back answers to each one, all within about fifteen seconds—because, with teenagers, that is usually all the time you have before either (1) they become irritated that you didn't answer them or (2) their attention spans run out and they completely forget the question they asked in the first place.

Ms. DD:     You—read the directions to the question; bet it will make more sense.  You—under your book, where you put it after I gave it to you TEN minutes ago.  You—no; the dog ate your homework LAST week, remember?  Try a new excuse.  You—you're boring if you think that book is.  But if you really need a new one, go to the library.  You—how long did you spend on that 2-week long project?  Two hours?  That's what I thought—try again.  And you—you set a foot outside this classroom, and I WILL beat you with this clipboard that I'm holding.  It's a good thing you're not in kindergarten, so you can hold your pee.

But lately, I find that my Jedi-like wisdom is a bit slow on the uptake—so many things are being thrown at me that my mind is too busy to lay out all the puzzle pieces and attempt to see how it all fits together.  I'm so overwhelmed with trees that I have no idea I'm even in a forest.  I am drowning a miserable death in ungraded papers, lesson plans, and test scores.  I have filled my social calendar to the max with girlfriends and dates (yes, I said dates—wowzer, maybe dating drought is over?), and I am also taking classes at night to keep my job certification.  And yet, despite my schedule being packed, I am still finding time to be lonely.

Lonely.

What an awful word.

It seems so stupid to say.  I feel as though I am throwing a big pity-party or complaining just to utter those two syllables.  I remember I used to think that "lonely" was one of the worst feelings in the world, right up there with feeling left out or guilty, but I still feel absolutely pathetic just thinking it.  Therefore, lonely has been encouraging me to jump into this online dating thing with fierce resolve to stay open-minded.

But honestly, how can one stay open-minded with some of the stuff that I have encountered?!?  I'm serious.  Don't get me wrong—I have been on a few dates where the only thing wrong with the guy was that he was just a bit uninteresting to me but overall seemed like a nice human being.  Others?  Holy dorkarama!

My online-dating conclusion—and prepare for me to completely offend some of you—is that it does NOT work when you live in a big city like I do.

I'm serious.  I hate to derail your Match.com hopes and dreams, but online dating is for meeting people when your city does not lend itself to social spots and locales that allow you to meet others.  In my big city, if you can't meet people, you are either (1) a social recluse who lives in your mother's basement and never emerges or (2) a socially-challenged individual who lacks all ability to interact with another human being, much less one of the opposite sex.

In my experiences with online dating, I have been matched with BOTH of these lovely options.  And the others, you open up their profiles and think, really?!  That's the best picture that you have of yourself?!  Omg....  (Disclaimer:  Yes, I have contemplated that I may be going to hell for being so judgmental, but I like to think that God would react the same way if he saw some of these photos....)

First, let's begin with some of the profiles I have encountered as my "perfect," ahem, match:




"I'm passionate about decovering the truth in general and designing things is what I love to do. I also love computers and PC games! Cats, rabbits, and horses are cool too! I have cat pictures..."
Okay, creepy cat guy...not sure I want to see those pictures!




"I am not looking for my son a mom but it is a two for one deal so I understand other single parents. I have never really been into just hooking up and I am not looking for that hear. I love sex as much as anyone but I want it to be with her and not just them....Just because I'm a guy does mot mean that the only thing I want to talk about is sex or other vulgar stuff."
WHAAAAAATT?!?  That's enough of that.

"I love the fall. Crisp, sunny days with a chill in the air and the smell of fall. It is also the perfect season to make my chicken chili, which I named 'Marry Me Chili' because I have yet to cook it once without receiving a marriage proposal."
Okay, so how many times have you made this chili?  Once?  Twice?  More?!? 



"If she smokes, has kids, is out of shape/overweight, or is 100% against alcohol then it probably isn't going to work. Just being honest, no need to waste our time."
Okay, buddy, have you looked the mirror?  You are looking for a supermodel, and let's be honest...it ain't happening.

"I am most passionate about taking care of my vehicles,playing video games with my nephews, going out with friends,going Hunting&Fishing when I get the chance to and most of all my music I love listing to my music I don't know what it is about music but just jumping in my pickup truck & rolling down the windows a cranking the music up and going for a nice country drive just takes me to my "Happy Place"!!!"
My happy place includes using punctuation.  Just sayin.




"I am always on the computer or the iPad or iPhone. I live alone and work from my home. So it's either work or play. I do have the TV on as well."
Are you sure you don't live with your mom?  I mean, no one is gonna come out and just admit it, right?  That statement right there was sure to be as close as I'm gonna get....





"Even my ex's look me up so i must do something right or i am choosing really crazy women."
I'm gonna go with the latter...you said it, not me.

And, oh, just wait!  I haven't even gotten to the ones I have been on dates with....  Until next time, I remain—

Forever fearless,
Dumbfounded Divorcée

How to Lose a Guy in Ten Ways

My dear friend Bear finally convinced me to try online dating, and surprisingly, it has provided a unforeseen benefit:  getting the male perspective on dating!  I've been polling the guys I meet and asking about the what-not-to-do's that women most often fail to avoid.

Out of all the answers I received about horrible dating stories, there were ten front-runners that stood out among the others.  While some might be hard to believe, I assure you:  all of these stories are TRUE and UNEMBELLISHED (if you can believe that after you read these atrocities).  I call it "How to Lose a Guy in Ten Ways."  Or—all the things not to do while on a date with a guy.  Enjoy!

1. Never say to a guy, "You're not going to break my heart, are you?"  Especially not several times.  On the third date.  While having sex.
2. Never go on a first date and bring up controversial subjects that include informing your date about your recent abortion—with vivid details.  Eww.
3. Never go on a date with someone who speaks English when you clearly don't.  Your date will spend the entire time not really sure if you understand what he is saying.
4. Never continuously message someone through the online dating site without receiving a response, then send another message through to another dating site, then go back to original dating site and try again—this time with a new profile name and picture but the same message.  It will not work.  Give it up.
5. Never arrive late to a first date...especially not when the reason for your lateness involves circling around the restaurant parking lot for ten minutes and then refusing to get out of the car because you thought you saw your ex standing by the door of the restaurant.
6. Never bring your parents to the second date, then allow your parents to drink too much, which then causes your parents to start arguing and yelling with each other in the middle of the bowling alley so much that your mom trips and falls into a garbage can and you all get kicked out.  It will definitely be a deal-breaker.
7. Never go on a blind date to a busy restaurant and very loudly proclaim that you want to have more kids, but you don't want them from a man, but that you plan on going to a sperm bank.  It might be awkward.
8. Never seem more concerned with making plans for after dinner than you are with having dinner—particularly if making plans involves taking phone calls during the meal from other guys.
9. Never ask a guy to marry you on the second date ... while sober and serious ... especially right after having sex with him.
10. Never go on a first date when you are tired—you really can never be too careful.  You wouldn't want to fall asleep at dinner with your head on the table only five minutes after the meal has been served, so much so that your date cannot wake you up, because then it will require him to practically carry you to the car and then into your house (which you could barely direct them to), all while you are pretty much passed out.  It will be very embarassing the next day—particularly when you have to see this person at work.

More of my own online dating stories to come...stay tuned!

Forever fearless,
Dumbfounded Divorcée

High-School Hangouts & High-Fives (or "My Life is a Seinfeld Episode")

God has a sense of humor.  Or maybe there really is such a thing as karma.  It would figure that my first date following the break-up with Mr. Songwriter would start off like this.  In discussing with my blind date where to meet, I replied, "The time you suggested works great.  As for location, I'm game for anything—I'll leave it up to you!"  And wouldn't ya know, after incessantly making fun of bad dates, especially for callously teasing the Wee Scott about his dating techniques, where does my blind date suggest we go?

The Cheesecake Factory at the mall.

Of course.

How exactly does one dress for a date at the mall?  On a normal dinner date, a semi-dressy, semi-casual dress works just fine, but I feel like a complete toolbag showing up in my dress and heels to go to the MALL.  And as Rowdy commented to me (in between her drops of the phone from laughing so hard), what if the date goes well?  What do you do then?  "Do you hold hands as you stroll through The Gap?"

Yup, that's what I get.  Mom kept warning me that I shouldn't make fun of people on a public forum.  (No, really—she did.)

So as I stand next to a fountain spitting water amongst stone squirrels and gnome-looking things, amidst children running around like screaming hyenas and scantily-dressed tweens carrying bags from Hollister, I wait for my date:  Mr. Mall.

Whoah...  Maybe I should call him Mr. Tall? 

As he approaches (late—a man after my own heart), I am already looking up to him.  I mean, literally, he's got to be 6'4" at least!  He has to bend down in order to greet me with a hug and then takes charge, ushering us quickly into the restaurant.

We take two seats at the bar while we wait for a table, and I glance at the two guys sitting next to Mr. Mall.  No, I am not checking out other men on my date (admit, the one was very cute, and he did start talking to me when my date went to the bathroom, but that's beside the point...).  These two men who are holding down the bar happen to be in my line of sight the entire time; so, while Mr. Mall and I exchange the awkward kind of small talk that can only come from a pair who has obviously never met before, I am watching these guys snicker into their beers as they try not to look as though they are eavesdropping.  Which they are—and they know I know they are watching.  I'm sure my embarrassment is probably upping the "yuk" factor, so these clowns are having a ball.

Once we are seated at a table, dinner goes fairly normally.  That is, until the high-fives start.

Have you ever seen that episode of Seinfeld where Puddy won't stop high-fiving Jerry?  The one where Jerry has to keep going along with it, even though he feels like a moron, because once he finally puts a stop to it, Jerry knows the car deal is off?  If not, watch the first 35 seconds of the clip below, and you'll see what I'm talking about.

With Mr. Mall, I receive high-fives across the dinner table for the following:

1. Playing soccer in high school ("Cool!  I played soccer too!  High-five!").
2. Not doing drugs ("You're so cool...high-five!").
3. Drinking coffee ("I love coffee!  High-five!  Coffee's the best.").
4. Saying something—I totally forget now, it was that unmeaningful—that he thought was very astute.  And I'm sure I've forgotten at least one high-five in this list.  Sigh.

I guess it could be worse—he could have taken me to Arby's.  I am also pretty thankful that the bar clowns did not witness the whole high-fiving experience.  I'm not sure my straight face would have lasted through dinner.

Just a day in my life as an episode of Seinfeld.  At least I didn't need my just-in-case-of-an-emergency letter:

Conversation between DD, Chanel, Mamasita, Rowdy, Dolly, and Stella: 

DD:     Just in case I am never to be seen again, consider this my track-the-bastard-down-and-kill-him letter...or at least a good laugh.  Tonight, I'm going on a date with a guy named Mr. Mall at 7 p.m.  at the Cheesecake Factory.  I don't know his address, but his phone number is 555-123-1234.   All other descriptive info (hair color, tattoos, bad pick-up lines commonly used) will be found out and texted over the course of the night.   If it is anytime after midnight on this same day, please send police, search parties, and ambulances to find me.  In the event that you cannot find me, just make sure my stuff doesn't go to people I hate.  And hug my parents for me.  Thanks. 

Chanel:     Good luck.  I will call you at exactly a midnight if I do not hear from you sooner.  (And then I will call Rowdy.  And then we will drive to the mall to find you.)

Rowdy:     OH MY GOD.  Who else wants to go to dinner at the Cheesecake Factory tonight and watch the train wreck happen?

Mamasita:     If I didn't already have a dinner thing with Big D, I'll ditch the baby with him and go! HOLY SHIZA!  PLEASE keep me posted via text!

DD:     I hate you all.  Is Chanel the only one who cares about whether I might DIE because this guy is a rapist, or a freak, or molests baby kittens in his spare time???!!!???

Dolly:     Of course we care. That's why we all want to show up. For your protection.  And btw, if I weren't out of town right now, I would totally be there.

Stella:     Maybe we could video it and show it as an elearning for bad dating.

Lesson #12 in Post-Divorce Dating:   Blind dates are like a box of chocolates; you never know what you're gonna get.  However, the one piece of advice that always applies?  Never disclose the location of a blind date to your friends unless you want company—or a complimentary home video commemorating the occassion.

Forever fearless,
Dumbfounded Divorcée

The Day the Music Died

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