Party Lines

As you know, it’s been a long time since I’ve had something to blog about. But recent events have prompted me to think, and thinking prompts writing. First, I met someone. Then, I found out he was a Republican.

For those of you who know me, enough said. For those of you who don’t, this is big news. It’s not often that I let a friend set me up on a blind date, and less often when she hardly knows the guy. But I took a chance, gave him a chance, and ended up being pleasantly surprised.

I had to ditch all the behaviors I’ve become accustomed to. I had to keep a completely open mind with someone I appeared to have very little in common with. I had to give it a chance when I really wasn’t sure what would happen and this was hard for me. But I did it. I was proud of myself. And things were turning out really good. I stopped overanalyzing everything he did and said and just went with it.

And he did something not many men would do—at least not many men I’ve dated—and I was halfway hooked. He stopped by with a Thanksgiving card with a Starbucks gift card. He knew one of my employees had just left on maternity leave and thought I might be needing some extra pick me ups. Are you serious? Yes, he was. I was surprised, touched and flattered. We had only been on two dates but this guy definitely knew what he was doing, with me at least.

He is everything my ex-husband is not—polite, mature, smart, comfortable with who he is and tall, a full 15 inches taller than me and although I’m prone to exaggeration, it does not apply here. He wants to do things for me (OK – he’s no saint. Just like Vince Vaughn, he doesn’t want to do the dishes), and is probably one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. No games. No plays. No wondering what he really means when he says something. What you see is what you get. And he smells good. I could also go on about the two kids he adores, but I won’t. I have one word for the whole situation—refreshing.

All of this and the Starbucks card, but it wasn’t until he kissed me that I was fully hooked. Then I had a feeling I was in trouble. Aside from the fact that I had to stand on my tippy toes and he still had to bend over, there was no denying the spark. It’s been a very long time since I felt that spark and it’s both weird and wonderful. I feel like I’m 13 again but instead of writing notes in class, we’re sending text messages to each other at work. It’s silly, but fun. And it’s been a really long time since I haven’t minded the lack of sleep. A friend at work told me the other day that I was giddy, and I realized she was right.

So … I ask myself: what prompted me to ask him his political affiliation? It was probably the conversation I had with the very friend that set us up that went something like this, “Wouldn’t it be funny if he was a Republican?” “Uh, yeah because I would never date a Republican.” I have another friend who is laughing his ass off right now because I believe that after a night of one too many glasses of wine I SWORE that I could never be with a Republican. And he reminds me of this proclamation any chance he gets.

I probably could have guessed this if I really tried. But I didn’t. He’s Catholic, from western Maryland, drives a Chevy Suburban. Yes, it’s bigger than my condo, which is pretty darn big. He does live in south Florida, but I was hoping … Apparently he was much more aware that I’m a Democrat, or a liberal do-gooder, as he may have put it. And he may have mentioned something about it screaming out at him on our first date. Fancy that.

The bottom line is that I like this guy. And he’s a good guy. A really nice guy. And unlike many women out there, I don’t have a problem with nice guys. They work for me. They make me happy. So the question remains, can I just be happy for the time being? Can I just enjoy being with someone who likes me and treats me well without knowing if we’ll be canceling out each other’s votes at the next presidential election? I’m pretty sure I can. And that’s darn exciting because there was definitely a time when I couldn’t. As a good friend of mine says, it’s AFGO, another freakin’ growth opportunity.

Learning Patience

I had no idea it would be so hard to get divorced. I’m not totally clueless; I knew it would be an emotional roller coaster. I knew it would be a bummer for my bank account. But I didn’t realize it would be quite this difficult to get our signatures on the dotted line and join the more than 50% of Americans who check the 'divorced' box.

Unfortunately, I haven’t been that lucky. There are a number of reasons why I’m not divorced, even after a two-year separation, but it’s not worth me getting into. I have to take the blame for some of it – not being assertive enough in the beginning – but my ex and our incompetent lawyers are to blame for the most part. That is frustrating beyond belief.

The divorce process, if you are going to learn anything from it, requires a lot of soul searching. In my case, this was a somewhat unexpected but extremely welcome turn of events. After a time, it becomes natural and you learn to take things as they come a lot more easily than you used to. On most days, I accept the fact that this has taken a hell of a lot longer than I first anticipated, but on other days, I’d like to scream. Loudly. And repeatedly.

I want to believe that this endless delay is happening for a reason but no matter how hard I dig, I can’t seem to find one. Sometimes I think it’s a joke. Sometimes I think I’m on candid camera. Other times, I think I’m being taught a really, really important lesson and after this is over, my life is going to be a walk in the park. I mean, seriously. Couples with MUCH bigger contentions have resolved their issues in half the time. What gives? I thought I already learned this lesson.

Nonetheless, so begins yet another phase of the divorce process. The other day I sent a certified letter to fire my current (and second) attorney in preparation to hire my third. I’m hoping with all the hope I’ve got left that he is a miracle worker and can get me out of this hell as quickly and inexpensively as possible. A friend mentioned recently that 80% of divorced people don’t begin and end their divorces with the same attorney, so at least I’m not a complete failure. I was beginning to think there was something seriously wrong with me.

And I’m beginning to wonder if anyone would know if I never got divorced. I’m living as a divorced person now. I’d save a lot of time and money if I just continued on this path. I really don’t care about my ex. He can fend for himself, for once. Oh, tempting, indeed.

I guess I just have to keep taking it day by day, deal with whatever I’m handed and hope, hope, hope that my third attorney can get me out of this ridiculous nightmare and let me let go, for good. I can probably get used to living in one awful cliche after another for a while. They say the third time’s a charm, right? But three strikes and I'm out. And three is definitely a crowd. But I have to be patient, because ... yup, patience is a virtue. And if good things come to those who wait, there's a ton of goodness coming my way.

Dating School Dropout

A while back, I was driving to a friend’s house when I looked up to see a Walgreen’s on the corner with a sign reading, “shingles vaccine.” At first glance, I thought it said, “singles vaccine” and I honestly thought, they have a vaccine for that? No, they haven’t developed one yet but I wouldn’t find it hard to believe we’re close.

If you look up ‘divorce’ on amazon, you’ll find 272,074 results. That's 272,074 books published on this very subject – everything from funny books and memoirs to study guides. Yes, study guides (not sure if there are take-home tests, too). The titles tell most of the story: Congratulations on Your Divorce, 101 Things to do the First Year You Get Divorced. For my anally retentive comrades, you can purchase The Divorce Organizer and Planner and of course, Divorce for Dummies. And once you get through this library of how-to books and study guides, you’re ready to get back in the dating pool.

Fret not, because there are just as many resources for the single portion of your life, if not more. Foremost, online dating has come a long way. Online sites are now available for absolutely every interest you could possibly have. There are sites that cater to particular religions, sports, hobbies; ones for divorcées, stepparents and those looking for millionaire matches.

But this is merely child’s play. Anyone out there looking for a potential mate can try speed dating, hurry dating (no, they’re not the same thing), dating via Facebook and/or Twitter, even mobile dating. If this is not sufficient, you can utilize the services of matchmakers or dating coaches, or you can go back to school. You can attend a dating school, an actual classroom setting to help you and your minus-one classmates figure out what you’re doing wrong and how to fix it to find the love of your life.

Now I am a hopeless romantic, truly. Every movie I own is a love story. I get upset just thinking about ‘The English Patient’ and I can proudly recite at least three Shakespears sonnets by heart, but I have a hard time with this. Are we seriously that busy, and lonely, that we need to get alerts on our cell phone to let us know there’s someone in the area that we might be compatible with, and then go to night school to learn how to not make them run in the opposite direction? Jeez.

I’m a little speechless and apparently, more than a little old fashioned. I tried the online dating thing for the free three-month trial period and came up with nada. These classes are probably more helpful. I'm sure they have good information to share. They teach you to be true to yourself so you’ll find someone who is actually a good match. This makes sense, but … ugh. Oh, who knows? Maybe if I signed up for a class I wouldn’t be sitting at my computer alone right now. But that’s ok – I’ve done enough oral presentations in my time and I don’t want any more student loans.

Baby Steps

I recently received notice from my condo association that I am not permitted to renew my lease next February because I have a dog who has been living here “illegally.” I obviously knew this was a possibility, but I also thought I might be able to slip by. My landlord doesn’t care about the dog. It’s only the condo commandoes, and there are a million other dogs in the development. I pay my not cheap rent on time every month, so why would anyone care? No such luck.

This seriously bums me out. I love living here for a number of reasons. (1) My closet is heavenly. It’s so big that I have to use a step stool to reach half the stuff in it. (2) It’s convenient to everything, including work and doggie day care, a.k.a. Grandma and Grandpa. (3) It’s big enough for me to play fetch with the dog while lying comfortably on the sofa. (4) The layout is perfect. All of my belongings fit perfectly, with room to spare. (5) This is the first place I’ve had all to myself in over seven years, so I’m pretty attached to it. Lastly, I really can’t think of too many things worse than moving. But I’m determined to stay positive.

As cliché as it sounds, when I read the letter from the condo association, I thought to myself, maybe this is for a reason. Everything always falls into place, right? And who knows where I’ll be in six months. I may want to move. I could have a new job where this place won’t be so convenient or I may fall in love and move in with someone. It could be the universe telling me that bigger and better things are coming my way and I refuse to spend too much energy thinking about it.

But yesterday I surprised myself. I found myself, on the way out the front door, pondering the possibility of finding a partner and moving in with him. The surprising part was when I realized, even before I made it to my car, I don’t want to move in with anyone. I’m very content where I am. I love living alone. I’m comfortable with the way things are and I’m not ready for anything to rock me out of this comfort zone just yet. I especially love that there’s almost always a half full bottle of wine on my countertop.

So why did this reflection surprise me so much? I think it’s the kid thing. The majority of my friends are either having their first child, or already have children but are getting divorced. In either case, I always seem to be the only childless one. Some of my friends secretly envy me at times, but I really want kids. My good friends know how I feel so whenever the conversation comes up, everyone tells me it will happen in its own time and when it does I’ll be a wonderful mother. I halfway believe them. But mostly I yearn for the time when there are tired toddlers running around and baby toys mixed with bedtime stories all over the floor.

I’ve been thinking for months that I’m ready, but apparently I’m not. This is very welcome news. It will happen in its own time and when it does, I will be an amazing mom, whether I have children of my own, stepchildren or adopted ones. Why was I in such a rush? Probably because society says I should be married with kids by now, if I’m anywhere near normal. But I have to remember that I chose to step off that well-worn track for a very good reason. I could have chosen to have children with my ex, but that would have been very wrong for all of us.

So what’s next? I have no idea. Just the feeling that I am exactly where I’m supposed to be right now is enough. That’s the whole reason I decided to end my marriage and it’s working, one baby step at a time.

Divorce Interrupted

For those of you who have read Elizabeth Gilbert’s “Eat, Pray, Love,” you will understand what I’m about to do. For those of you that haven’t, you’ll probably think I’m slightly off my rocker. Either way, I’m getting a little desperate here and if I learned anything from reading Gilbert’s unique memoir of life after divorce, it’s that you need to do whatever makes you happy, even if society at large looks at you a little funny.

I was thinking this morning of calling my not-yet ex-husband and begging him to move things along with our divorce, but I know that wouldn’t do either of us any good. I’ve finally figured out that the sound of my voice on his voicemail just makes him move even slower than he normally would. So I’ve decided to do steal Gilbert’s idea and write a petition.

Hello, Husband --

Your wife here. Yes, I am your wife. We have been married for almost 4 years. Hard to believe. Then again, even harder to believe is that although we don’t want to be married, here we are living in a state of marital interruption. It’s been 23 months since we separated. 23 months that we’ve been communicating through attorneys. 23 months and we have still not managed to reach an agreement. To use one of your favorite words, this is simply ridiculous, mainly because we were together as husband and wife for 23 months. Do you see a problem here? I do.

I want to move on with my life. I want to be able to go out on a date and not have to explain why I’m still married. I want to stop answering the questions, “aren’t you divorced yet?” “What’s taking so long?” I want to stop telling people that I have done everything they’re suggesting. I’m working with my second attorney and about to hire my third. But whatever I do, it’s just not helping because you refuse to cooperate.

I feel divorced. I felt the permanent fracture in our marriage the day I moved out, yet there is part of me that is still attached to you. I know I will always carry our good memories in my heart, but this is not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about the legalities and negativities that still have a grip on me. I desperately want to break free of them and I can only imagine you feel the same way.

I’m writing to ask that you stop dragging your feet, stop refusing to accept any reasonable offer I put on the table and make the decision – here and now, to end this nonsense. We can agree to disagree. We can settle any issues with have with each other at any time in the future, but please, let us be divorced.

The whole situation sucks. We both know that. It sucks, not only for us, but for everyone who loves and cares about us. It’s been hard for them, too. My friends are sick of hearing about our continuing saga. My mother is ready and willing to have both your legs broken and you know she has connections. Least of all, my bank account is pleading for an end to large withdrawals. I know you must be suffering, too. I know your friends and family must be hurting for you and just want to see you happy. Let’s be adults and choose happiness. Let’s start over right now, sign what needs to be signed and set each other free.

I will turn 35 in 75 days and all I want is to be divorced. Dare I dream? I do. I dream about those three words being uttered by a judge in a courtroom, “DISSOLUTION OF MARRIAGE.” Can you imagine what a glorious day that will be? I think about it sometimes in the shower and I get so giddy I can’t stand it.

I realize this all sounds a bit melodramatic, but it’s time. It’s time for us to put the past aside, forget the hurt, anger and frustration and start anew. It’s the right thing to do and more importantly, the healthy thing to do. This is all I ask. If you would comply, I am confident that we would be happier people, carrying a little less weight around and open to making the best decisions we can make for ourselves.

I am grateful for your attention to this matter and to assist in the process, I have recently purchased a Daruma doll, a Japanese wish doll with no arms or legs. Following tradition, I filled in a single circular eye while thinking of a wish. Should my wish come true, I will fill in the second eye. I am counting on that happening within the next 75 days.

Thank you, sincerely.

A Dog and A Yard

Dating after divorce can be scary. Maybe “scary” is a little strong, but in order to get to know someone, you obviously have to reveal things about yourself. This can be very intimidating. Admit it: this is why you were happy being a married person who would never have to date again.

Coming out of a marriage or other long-term relationship, you’re used to being with someone who accepts you and everything about you. This is a nice, comfy place to be and not easy to tear yourself away from. It’s reassuring to know that the person you’re sharing your life with chooses to stay with you despite your deepest, darkest secrets. And though they may get annoyed by certain things you do, they know everything there is to know and they still come home every night, mow the lawn and pick you up at the airport.

So when you re-enter the world of dating and you have to start gradually revealing yourself, in all your greatness and your flaws, some insecurities are going to pop up. When you’re just getting back out there, it’s the little things that matter. You worry about what you’re going to wear, what your date will think of your profession or how you spend your free time. Maybe they’ll be judgmental about the fact that you’re divorced. But after a little practice, you get used to it and you don’t sweat the small stuff so much.

When you find someone you really like and connect with, however, and it looks like it may really go somewhere, more insecurities appear. You’ve progressed past the beginning stages and formed a “relationship.” You’ve met their friends and family. He or she may even have a drawer or section of your closet dedicated just to them. They know what you look like in the morning or after a run. They know you don’t really shave every day and you’re both ok with it.

But what about the real stuff? The things that make you you? The fears and anxieties you share only with those who truly love you? How do you know when to reveal what? It’s been a long time since I felt this way about someone and I’m befuddled by the process. Finding someone to share my life with does not worry me. I know there’s someone out there. Having this person accept me (and all my neurosis) keeps me up at night. Luckily, only sometimes.

We’re all pretty nuts and I am by no means an exception. I don’t know if I could live with me: my moods, my books everywhere, my resemblance to Courtney Cox’s Monica on 'Friends' – yes, I can tell when something on the counter or bookshelf has been moved. Maybe most irritating is that I talk to the dog like a person and I actually answer (in the “dog’s” voice but we won’t go there).

I guess that’s the whole idea of finding a potential partner, whether you’re divorced or not. When you feel strongly enough about someone, you open up when you’re ready and vice versa. You love them inside out and the only way to survive in a relationship is to trust that they will feel the same. If it’s right, you’ll both accept the responsibility of loving each other.

But it does remind me of Mr. Freecreditreport.com, who married his dream girl but she didn't tell him her credit was bad.
So now instead of living in a pleasant suburb, they’re living in the basement at her mom and dad's. He’d rather be a “bachelor with a dog and a yard.” Yeah, not a bad idea. ;-)

Divide and Conquer

I’ve already discussed how much fun it can be to divide your marital belongings after or during a divorce, but the subject came up again the other night and it reminded me of the silliness of it all.

To illustrate my point, a story of two divorcées: Last year, I went on a weekend trip with a guy I was dating and as we were watching a very beautiful sunset, he asked me if I brought my camera. My response was that I didn’t have a camera. “How can you not have a camera?” he asked. Well, I didn’t get it in the divorce. Later that weekend we somehow starting talking about how I make a smoothie every morning when he told me that he didn’t even have a blender. “How can you not have a blender?” I asked. “She got it in the divorce,” he said. We laughed. It was funny. And a little pathetic at the same time.

You come away from a marriage and begin your life over with the most random stuff. Aside from the half-eaten box of cereal, my ex insisted on keeping four things: the wine glasses, champagne flutes, our knife set and our bed. OK by me. The less he wanted the better. I guess I could have guessed that he would want to keep wine glasses and champagne flutes because he did like to drink now and then (ok maybe a little more than that). He was the cook so the knives should rightfully be his …

Yes, I actually did think these things. I honestly took time out of more than one day to figure this stuff out. Ridiculous. When I moved into my own apartment I realized that I didn’t have an ironing board, a can opener, a garbage can for the kitchen, or a shower curtain. I had a TV but no TV stand, a computer but no printer, serving platters but no Tupperware. I got the towels and he got the sheets. How did we decide this? How does this happen? I have no idea. I certainly don’t think there was a conversation. Maybe it’s just an unspoken understanding between married people. Who knows? Maybe it’s a male/female thing. Doubtful.

I don’t think I’ll ever know what it is that makes mundane household objects seem important when it looks like you might lose them or why you let yourself devote even an ounce of energy to the subject, but divorce makes people do crazy things and if the craziest thing we do is take the blender and run, then I guess we’re doing ok.