Playing House

About six weeks ago, my boyfriend and I decided to move in together. In two weeks, we'll be official cohabitants. Since we made this decision, I haven’t looked back or had any second thoughts, but yesterday I had a minor panic attack when I realized that although I haven’t let myself believe it, I am a bit anxious about making such a bold step. I really didn’t think I had any anxiety about it. I sat with my man and our realtor and didn’t feel one ounce of apprehension when we signed the lease, forked over the cash and started making arrangements. Honestly. I even have a countdown calendar on my refrigerator.

So why have I begun to scream bloody murder in my sleep? Because I’m a human being. One who’s made a few ‘I’m only human’ relationship decisions in the past and this is a life-altering leap. When I’m honest with myself I see that it’s not the cohabitation that has put the butterflies in my tummy. It’s the future – the part I always stress about. I’m not scared of the here and now, the dirty dishes in the sink, how we’ll decide who will make dinner and who will walk the dogs. It’s the big stuff, the real stuff, the meat of the future.

Don’t get me wrong; I’m still blissful and confident that this is the man who can make me happy for the rest of my life, but this meat I refer to -- this building of a family -- is seriously hard work. And out of ALL the people in the entire world … HE and I … have to be on the same page if we stand a chance. What are the odds? We met practically on a whim, fell in love against all odds (well, almost) but have been ecstatically happy ever since. I’ve even had the ache in my chest when I’m lying in bed alone, knowing that he’s doing the same thing across town. When he looks at me I almost melt because I know he feels the same way about me that I do about him.

But I have learned over the years that a perfect man does not make a perfect partner and even a perfect partner does not make a perfect relationship. When you throw children into the mix (among many other things), the challenges only multiply. I think my anxiety was delayed until now because one of the things I fell in love with was that he is already a fabulous dad. He’s practically raised two kids on his own and he’s ready to be a dad for the second time. And he’s ready to be a dad to MY future children. Amazing.

What’s the solution? I wonder. First, remind myself that I’m pms-ing. Check. Second, get my thoughts down on paper so I don’t explode. Check. Third, look honestly into my heart and ask myself what I truly believe. Check. Last, have a chat with the wonderful man who has agreed to take me for who I am and enjoy me being happier than ever before.

The Bug

The biggest Hallmark holiday of the year is just around the corner. Traditionally I’ve lamented Valentine’s Day, like every other self-respecting woman in America, and gagged at each and every Jared and Kay Jewelers commercial. I'd roll my eyes as bouquets of red roses were carried down the office hallway and steer clear of restaurants, movie theaters and parks. Even when I was married or in the beginning stages of relationship bliss, I still didn’t get the hype. No matter what you’re partner/husband/boyfriend gets you, it’s never the right thing. So why bother? It’s just another opportunity for you to compare yourself to everyone else.

So why, in February of 2010, do I feel differently? I think I can explain it in one concise, meaningful, yet incredibly overused word: love. I have fallen in love with such a worthy man who, astoundingly, is convinced that I am just as worthy of him. In fact, I’ve fallen so deeply that I am actually (dare I say it???) looking forward to Valentine’s Day for the first time since high school. I’m looking forward to it and planning - thinking about baking for my sweetie, a heart-shaped cake with fun red decorations to sprinkle on top, following the fondue course, of course.

But allowing yourself to fall in love is tricky, especially following a divorce. In my case, I don’t think it was avoidable. I was confused at first but signs were everywhere. Soon enough I found that my old self was occupying my body again, the self I had temporarily misplaced during the rough years of my marriage and the following years of divorce. Without paying attention, I realized I was goofy again, laughing a lot, mostly at myself. The true flashing neon sign, however, was that I was back to singing show tunes in the office. This may sound odd to most but when I start singing show tunes at 3:30pm (for some it’s considered nap time, for me it’s the time of delirium), I’m back. I do not credit falling in love with bringing my old self back, but I do believe it had something to do with the fact that I was able to recognize me again, and appreciate me.

Last week, the Today show interviewed Lori Gottlieb on her new book, Marry Him: The Case for Settling for Mr. Good Enough. When I first heard the title, I wasn’t pleased, but after listening to her theories, I smiled. I smiled inside and out because I realized, without knowing it, that I had already taken her advice. She advises single women to revisit their “standards,” focus on the things that really matter and forget about the silly stuff. She warns that women are being too critical and in the process are missing out on the men that could be the perfect partner, even if they’re not the perfect man.

I refer, once again, to my July post about my own “standards” and how I refused to adjust them. By this I was referring to a guy’s appearance, his style, and whether or not he spends his Sundays on the couch watching football. At the time, I was very rigid in my vision of who I saw myself with and gosh darn it – I wasn’t going to settle! So I guess it’s entirely possible that during the next three months, someone gave me a shot of reality and in turn, gave me a shot at happiness. I found myself on a date with a man who, on the surface, didn’t live up to these standards. But I went on a second date which turned into a third and eventually turned into me singing show tunes again.

I still ask myself why I kept dating a man who loves football, wears flip-flops AND baseball caps. Because … eh-hem … those things don’t matter. How did I look past the superficial nonsense to get to the stuff that really does matter? I don’t know. I probably never will. But the important thing is that I did. I looked past the flip-flops and saw into the heart of an amazing man who has ignited something in me that has given me the capacity feel on a different level. A man who has given me hope that good things do happen to good people. So as this pseudo holiday approaches, I’ve had to face the facts – I’ve got the bug. And I’m loving every minute of it.

And he vacuums

Apparently I’m a cynic. I never considered myself one, but as things continue to delight in the relationship department, I’m beginning to wonder if there can be there too much of a good thing. My inner skeptic is acting aggressively lately and I’m just not sure whom to believe. My heart is asking me to sit back, relax and enjoy, but the skeptic is warning me to take out the common sense and apply with care. I mean, if it seems too good to be true, it probably is, right?

It was only a few weeks ago I wrote about finding comfort in being able to enjoy a good, healthy relationship without worrying where it’s headed. No sooner did I get those words on the screen that I started worrying about trusting myself too much, if that’s possible. And just as those nagging thoughts started to appear, it seemed as if conversations about relationships were everywhere. And conversations about relationships make me think of my own relationship, even when I had decided against that very thing.

Even he wanted to talk about our relationship. Yes, ladies, the man brought up the future. Surprise, surprise. He wasn’t nervous, awkward or needy. No pressure, no demands, just a mature, adult male (yes I did say mature adult male) who knows how he feels, what he wants and is confident enough to discuss it without the slightest bit of discomfort.

When the guy you’re in a good, healthy relationship with continues to act like a mature adult male, can you help but wonder if it’s just too darn good to be true? Recently, my mature adult male-friend and I marveled at each other and our relationship – how seamlessly things are working out, how naturally everything fits together. We asked each other, Is this it? Is this what it’s supposed to feel like when its right? Is this what people in happy relationships experience? Is this what we’ve been striving to find all these years? Can this last? How do you know?

I asked the opinion of a friend of mine who said, “you just know.” And I know she’s right. As much as I want a checklist of rights and wrongs, dos and don’ts and a higher power to wake me during the night to give me a definitive answer, preferably in writing, we all know that’s not going to happen. You have to figure it out on your own. You can solicit advice from every person you’ve met since kindergarten. You can do a free survey on surveymonkey.com. and you can have your tarot cards read, but it’s your decision and yours alone.

The thing about this decision that keeps me up at night is the question of trust. How do you know when you can and should trust yourself, when the decision you made the first time around was less than stellar? How do you know the difference between a real, lasting connection and getting lost in the giddiness of a new, comfortable relationship? How do you know if the little things you love about him now will drive you crazy in the future? I think my friend was right – you just know. When you dig down really deep and tell yourself the complete and honest truth, only then can you trust yourself and make the right decisions.

I’m not an expert on relationships, just a 35 year-old woman navigating this very complicated and sometimes exhausting world of dating. So for now my answer is to trust. Trust and enjoy every second with the man who says everything has changed for the better since we met: he feels better, sees things more clearly, wants more from life. He’s astonished that I have no idea how wonderful I am. I’m astonished that that this warm, wonderful, kind and considerate man was basically delivered to my doorstep – a man who took down my Christmas tree and immediately started vacuuming the house without me even showing him where the vacuum was kept. Stop the press, ladies … can there by anything sexier than a man vacuuming? I think not. So let’s pray together that there’s no such thing as too good to be true.

Dos Due Deux

Sometimes it surprises me how often I’m reminded that no matter how good things are, getting back out there -- dating the second time around -- isn’t as easy as one would hope. Let me clarify: I didn’t think it would be easy, but I certainly thought I’d be better at it, at least a bit. I mean I’m pretty darn proud of myself for recognizing an unhealthy marriage and managing to get out of it before the ties couldn’t be broken. And I’m proud that I’ve grown immensely from the experience (mentally and emotionally, of course). I’m much stronger than I was just a few years ago. I’m more confident and independent, and a ton more comfortable with me.

But none of these developments seem to have too much of an impact on my dating life. And the truly disappointing part is that I am to blame. Yes, me. The cliché does apply. I am my own worst enemy. And my worst critic. But at least I’m not alone. We all do it. We are all our own worst enemy and our own worst critic. But why? Why are we so hard on ourselves? We would never let anyone else be so hard on us. Why don’t we show ourselves the kindness we show our friends and loved ones? I would never be so unforgiving to a friend and I would never continue a friendship with someone who judged me so harshly.

Dating the second time around just might mean that we’re more sensitive than ever. We’re scared, unsure and we know that fairy tales don’t actually exist. Doesn’t this mean we should go even easier ourselves? Be more forgiving? I refer, once again, to Elizabeth Gilbert’s bestselling memoir “Eat, Pray, Love.” In it, she describes how one day for a split second, as an elevator was closing, she saw her reflection in a security mirror and thought she spotted a friend. When life gets rough, she reminds herself of this moment saying, “never forget that in an unguarded moment, you recognized yourself as a friend.”

I, too, try to remind myself of this but it’s difficult, and I’m not sure why. Do I feel guilty about being happy so I sabotage a relationship in my head when things are going well? Quite possibly. Do I conjure up silly scenarios and create unnecessary drama where there is none? Perhaps. But it has to be the guy’s fault, right?

I’m starting to think men aren’t as dumb as they look. Or pretend to be. Dare I say they may even have the right idea? They don’t (for the most part) overanalyze. They’re not (with rare exceptions) oversensitive. They don’t FEEL every little thought, detail, glance and hiccup and wonder what it means. OK, I’m an over-analyzer and I’ve come to terms with it. It’s not going to change anytime soon. It comes with being a super-sensitive artsy type and it’s helped me see the beauty that many others can’t see in what life throws at us. As with many things, it’s a blessing and a curse.

But now I am choosing to make it only a blessing from this point forward, and will not allow it to get in the way of my happiness. If I learned one thing from living in a marriage that doesn’t work it’s that you have to love yourself in order for anyone else to have even a chance to truly love you.

Divorce has provided me with a number of lessons and I’m determined to learn every single one of them. I’ve learned that there’s nothing I can’t handle. I’ve learned how to make better decisions in the future than I have in the past. And I’ve learned that the future holds great things for me. Now I promise to create adequate space for those great things by being a good friend to the most important person in my life – me. I read in a magazine today and hope to carry this thought with me, “true love begins with both curiosity about and acceptance of yourself.”

Slow-to-Judge

Back to my favorite Sunday night activity – going over the past week in my head and reminding myself of the things I’m thankful for, to get ready and grounded for the coming week. Sometimes I write down my thoughts and over the past year, those thoughts have turned into this blog. But things have taken a new turn recently because I’m not exactly sure what a women who writes about the trials and tribulations of post-divorce dating does when she enters a relationship that just might last. Thus, please see below.

Relationships, for me, have always brought up a fair amount of questions. Everything’s new and questions come up, like whether he’ll be a good kisser or whether you’ll fit in with his friends and family. Little questions come up, too, like if he snores or takes half and half in his coffee. This newness can be exhilarating and exhausting. For the most part, excitement wins out and the learning portion of the process is more fun than any learning you’ve done before.

The questions arising from my current relationship, however, are a bit puzzling. I’ve found myself in a place I’ve never been before. Sometimes I think it’s great. Other times I think it's just too good to be true and all this goodness will come to an abrupt end at any moment. For the first time in my life, I’m in a relationship and not wondering where it’s going. I don’t have a destination or even a journey in mind. This is such a new situation that I’m afraid I might be in denial. I’ve always tried to imagine the future, whatever it may be. I’m usually planning the future before the present has had a chance to breathe. I'm used to it, comfortable with it; it’s my m.o. So how, how did I get here? And more importantly, how do I stay here?

Friends of mine have given me two 'Native American' names. One I share freely, Quick-to-Mimic, because I can imitate with the best of them: accents, dance moves, you name it, even Steven Tyler (yes, Aerosmith's Steven Tyler). The other I’m not so generous with: Quick-to-Judge. Ok, I guess I have a tendency to make quick judgments of others … it may be a fault but I'm usually right.

Just saying.

So what does Quick-to-Judge do when all of the things that usually bother me suddenly don't? Could I have really become the truly open-minded person I’ve endeavored to be? As I read back on my past blog about standards and not compromising them, I have to laugh out loud. This guy has honestly violated almost every single one of them:

Flip-flops. Yup.

Sunday football. Yup.

Baseball caps. Yup.

Home fixer. You guessed it … yup.

Republican. Double yup.

But I don’t mind. Not a wee bit. We joke that we have nearly nothing in common but it hasn’t seemed to stunt our relationship growth. Is the fact that he’s a genuinely good person who thinks I’m a genuinely good person enough? After all, that’s why my wonderful friend set us up – two good people have to be good for each other, right?

Is it enough that we can laugh at our situation because we both have a good sense of humor? The fact that we’re both die-hard Law & Order fans helps. We both love Clint Eastwood. And ice cream – mint chocolate chip to be precise. He likes good beer, which is important. And we can’t get enough of each other. It’s inexplicable. And it’s the first time that I’m ok with not being able to research, fact-find, explain, write about and present something that I feel strongly about. My thesis on our relationship would be fatally flawed.

But most amazing of all, there are questions that come up that I can put aside for the time being and not ask. Excuse me? you say. Indeed -- big questions that I don’t need to know the answers to right now because there is something to be said for just being happy and enjoying the moment. Imagine that. Does he ever want to get married? Don’t know. Does he want more children, or is he willing to consider it? Not a clue. Does he want to be in south Florida for the rest of his life? I couldn’t say. When/how will I meet his children? Not sure.

So what does an over analyzer do when there’s nothing to overanalyze? Take a break. Go for a walk. Give the dog a bath. Enjoy the fact that when you’re in a healthy relationship with someone who thinks as much of you as you of them, music sounds better. Books read better. Poetry seems more poetic. And you’re less quick to judge.

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.