Dud Dating and The Guy Downstairs...

In my blogging absence I have been dating some serious duds. It's actually become a joke at work. I go out with them at least twice...just to give them the benefit of the doubt...but until last week, I hadn't found a single person that truly piqued my interest.

That's right...I said, "until last week."

There's this guy...a cute, funny, guy that works downstairs in the pressroom. I work upstairs in advertising, and we never cross paths. Never. We've worked in the same building for 7 months, and I've seen him once. But as it turns out, his mom is the head of our graphics department. And as it also turns out...I had been invited to put a bunch of stuff in her yard sale. Low and behold there was "Pressroom Boy" hanging out at the yard sale. This, of course, was when I realized that not only is he tall, dark, and handsome...he's hilarious! And we hit it off pretty darn quickly. So after some serious flirting and a couple of days of "is he going to call or isn't he"...

...we have a date tomorrow! We're taking the kids to the park. (Yep, he's a dad.)

I feel like a 15 year old girl who just got asked to the freakin prom!

Updates to follow.

Dating Disappointment

I am attempting dating. So far, I hate it.

I am still trying really hard to keep Ex out of the picture. I'm trying to embrace the reality of that door being closed and his role in my life being "E's Father. " I'm trying. In an effort to shift my focus, I am officially dating. Yep, I'm on the market. Look out world, I'm ready.

But dating sucks. So far I have gone out with a 27 year old boy who desperately wanted a relationship and began planning our wedding before the main course arrived. Then came the 34 year old divorce' who was only interested in sex. (He never got that from me...but he sure was interested.)

Most recently, it was the 35 year old man who I thought was wonderful. He was a teacher. He was a Christian. He was a gentleman. Everything was going along swimmingly. I thought, "Wow...I might actually like to date this man." He was charming, and when he asked me out he had a plan. "Would it be ok if I pick you up at 7 and take you to that Italian Restaurant on the square?" he asked. I was thrilled to go on a date with someone who took such control of the situation. A real "grab the bull by the horns" kind of fellow. Yes...this would be someone who was officially "dateable."

And then I found out that he lives with his mother. Yes...the 35 year old, take the bull by the horns gentleman, still lives in a 10x10 room across the hall from Mom. Always has. Plans to move? No...not him. It's "affordable and close to the school."

Red flags waving ferociously. I'm trying to figure out the best way to back myself out of this one. The old "It's not you, it's me" thing seems appropriate as everyone knows it translates to, "It SO you." And it is, undoubtedly, SO HIM.

So far, no one compares to a bubble bath and a good book. I'm doomed.

Happy Mother's Day to Me!!!

Today was my second Mother's Day. I really didn't expect any surprises this year. My mother, God love her soul, had already given me my gift certificate for an hour long massage. And E is only 17 months old, so other than the obligatory handprint on construction paper that they do in sunday school every year, I wasn't expecting him to throw down much of a party in my honor.

So imagine my surprise when I went to get him out of his crib this morning to find that he had "fingerpainted" pictures on his bedroom wall for me!

This would have been fine except that when I say "fingerpainted" I really mean "smeared poo on." Yes, my sweet little man has realized that he doesn't like the feel of a wet diaper, and that he can take care of said problem by ripping it off and throwing it in the floor. To fuel the fire, he had a VERY LARGE dinner last night, proven by the many turds laying in his bed. He had good fun with a few of them though...and by the time I got to the show it took 12 baby wipes just to clean a patch of him enough to lift him out of the masterpiece and throw him in the tub.

However, as I was scrubbing him with reckless abandon, he did lay his soapy little head on my shoulder and hug me tightly, patting me with a now sterile hand.

Considering the agony of the drama, the finale was pretty darn good. :)

Crunch Crunch

There's something about crunching on a cold, juicy dill pickle that relieves tension.

I have eaten 7 of them today.

I'm stressed out. I'm trying to wrap my brain around the reality of this new state: divorced. I'm trying to actually walk through the door into that better life that everyone keeps saying they see for me. I'm trying to have faith that life, fulfilled life, exists for me if I keep moving forward.

But this letting go thing kind of sucks lately. And because I am trying to be a good little Christian girl and actually attempt the whole celibacy thing (including no more shenanigans with the ex!) I have some pent up energy to release.

So I'm eating pickles.

It doesn't quite have the same afterglow that a session of sweaty athletic sex has. And my fingers smell like vinegar and my breath is now bad. But I'm pretty sure I won't end up feeling guilty for it tomorrow.

This probably isn't the solution that my therapist had in mind when she suggested I come up with an alternative way to deal with my anxiety and grief instead of sleeping with Ex. She really should have been more specific. I don't pay her $70 an hour so that I can come up with the answers on my own!

Healthy Hurts

I want to be emotionally healthy. There are a variety of reasons that I have this particular goal. I have just survived a painful divorce that, though desperately needed, still hurts like hell. I still love my ex with an unconditional love even though I have no desire to put myself in a position where I have to put up with the unending emotional instability that is his crap. I want to heal so that if and when some amazing man out there realizes that I am, in fact, an amazing woman the next time will be different. I want to create a peaceful, stable home environment for my precious little boy, the one positive product of my disastrous marriage. Yes, there are multiple reasons to pursue a newfound emotionally healthy state.



But by God, healthy HURTS.

Actually, it's not so much the destination of healthy that is so painful. That actually seems like an admirable if not attainable goal. Rather, it's the road there that I'm having a hard time navigating.

You see, I fell in love with this guy. He had flaws that were obvious to the rest of the world. But somewhere along the way I stopped seeing them. I only saw that he made me laugh, and that my Spirit felt at home entertwined with his. I married him, and 3 years, 4 dogs, 2 houses, and one very spirited child later, I divorced him. He really didn't give me a choice. But when the judge dropped his gavel on our marriage, he forgot to give me the bits of my heart back. And now suddenly, the ex, who had completely checked out of our marriage (mentally, spiritually, emotionally, and sexually) is able to open up to me in ways that he never did before. There is no pressure for him to make me happy, and no responsibility on him to "make things work." So suddenly I am the most attractive woman in the world to him. And I love it. I wish I hated it. I wish I hated him for treating me like no woman should ever be treated. But I don't. I love him through his sickness and addictions, and I see the heart within. I know that he is a good person with a lot of problems that are just too painful for him to deal with. And I have to admit, that I've enjoyed getting the good parts of him lately withouth getting all of his crap.

I know this isn't real. I know that nothing has changed, and I know that all I am doing is prolonging the slow death of our relationship. I know I need to let go. And for the first time in my life, I know I deserve better.

I want to close this door. But just typing that sentence made me cry. I want to pick up the pieces and move on to a place of serenity and joy. I really do want it.

Dear Lord, I want to be healthy. But today, healthy hurts.

Scab Picking

The ink has been dry on my divorce papers for 31 days. One month. And I have had sex with my ex husband 6 times now. Why am I doing this?

Because, apparently I am like a child with a busted knee. I'm fascinated with this scab that has formed in my life. It's the beginning of healing, but it's still obvious that there was a trauma there. So like any curious 6 year old- I'm picking at it.

It feels good for a little while. (Until the next day when I realize this is the wackiest place I have ever found myself in!) It's interesting...and also kind of hard to stop. But I am at least self aware enough to know that if I keep picking, I will undoubtedly start to bleed and end up with the same gaping wound that I started with. I have confessed my shenanigans to my therapist. She smiled knowingly and told me not to be so hard on myself.

She's always a little more lenient with the grace than I expect. God love her.

I have intentions to stop picking at scabs. I'll keep you posted.

Of course, you should know that I have had intentions to stop picking at scabs several times before to no avail. Just a heads up, so you won't be surprised when I start blogging about needing a proverbial band-aid.

I'm That Girl....

...the one that got married for the wrong reasons, but divorced for the right ones.

...the one who had a child for the wrong reasons, but is crazy about him for the right ones.

...the one who does the "right thing" for the wrong reasons, but loves God for the right ones.

...the one who has a broken heart for the wrong reasons, but who is starting over for the right ones.