Bachelor #1

I met this man-child on Yahoo Personals.  After a couple of email and text conversations, he asked me if I wanted to meet.  I said sure.  I mean his picture was really cute!   He was 30 and had never had a serious relationship, but that was okay because he was really cute, okay on the verge of HOT.  I know, not a good reason.  I get to his house (I know, stupid) and we are sitting in his living room and he turns on ESPN.   After a while of that he suggests we play Guitar Hero, so we went to the game room. He lived alone and had three flat screen televisions. He owned two cars (one was a BMW) and a motorcycle. It took me about two hours to realize this man was THE perpetual bachelor. He might as well play Geoffrey the Giraffe in the Toys'R'Us commercials singing, "I don't wanna grow up..."  We played Guitar Hero and then watched some more ESPN.  Three hours of sports and video games and I was ready to make my exit.  I got a goodnight kiss at the door.  After a couple of texts we didn’t talk again.  Cute will only get him so far.

You've Gotta Kiss a Lot of Frogs

At the urging of several friends and family members, I’ve decided to write about my experiences in the trenches of online dating.  This would be the preface if it were in book form. I'll be adding postings about the men I met every few days for a while.

I am a 30-year-old teacher from a small town in Texas.  Growing up, my family was very traditional.  I led a pretty sheltered middle class, small town life.  My parents have been married for 37 years and raised me to believe that love is always possible.  My mother used to tell me, “Someday you will find someone as wonderful as your daddy and it will all work out.”

This sentence has been driving me since grade school.  In my daily life, I am a strong, intelligent, independent woman.  But, as soon as a man enters the picture romantically, I become a complete and total idiot.  I lose all logic and the ability to think for myself.  I become a love obsessed, neurotic mess. 

A little of my background information should shed some light on this.  I dated the same guy in my small town during high school and the first part of college.  We broke up every few months, but always ended up back together.  When I went to college, he stayed home.  I came home on weekends.  This was the man I knew I was going to marry.  After four years, he called and said he thought we should just be friends.  At the time I didn’t know he had actually started dating one of my best friends.  What a way to start a friendship! 

Soon after this crushing break-up, I met a wonderfully nice, sweet guy.  He incidentally lived right around the corner, from my ex-boyfriend.  This new guy and I dated for TWO months.  He said he loved me and I was on top of the world.  Someone loved me!  Someone was kind, caring, and considerate.  My family and friends liked him just as much as I did.  After those TWO blissful months, he asked if I wanted to get married.  YES!  Of course I wanted to marry him.  It wasn’t everyday someone suggested marriage and what if I never got asked again?  This was going to be the marriage I’d always dreamed of.  This man loved me!  We were married six months after the engagement. 

We lived in my small town, around the corner from my ex-boyfriend and former friend (they got married and then divorced after she cheated on him) for two years.  I graduated from college and convinced my husband he needed to go to back to school.  We moved five hours away from our family and friends so he could go to the university his uncles and cousin had attended.  I worked full-time teaching school for two years while he finished his degree and worked part-time. 

Finally it was time for him to graduate!  At the urging of his mother, we decided we should live in his hometown, which is larger and would have more job opportunities than my hometown.  It was only 45 minutes from my family, so I felt this would be an acceptable compromise.   We bought the house his parents built and he grew up in.  He went to work with his family after a long and exhausting job search.  I continued to teach school.  I joined the local Junior Service League at the urging of his mother.  We attended the family church at the urging of his mother.  We attended various local charity and social functions at the urging of his mother.  You seeing a trend here?  We hung out with his friends from high school and spent most weekends with his family.  We drove the 45 minutes to see my family about once a month.

In year six of our marriage we decided to start a family.  After two miscarriages, that dream was put on hold.  I was extremely depressed and he became engrossed in his many hobbies.   I went to counseling because I just knew I was the problem.  I was absolutely sure of it.  After quite a bit of counseling and many late nights of thinking, I realized I had married the rebound guy.  I married a man because he was in love with me, but had I taken the time to know if I was in love with him?  No, I hadn’t.  We tried marriage counseling for a while, but after almost eight years, we separated and filed for divorce.  In the words of our counselor, “Sometimes things are just broken and you can’t put them back together.”

I moved back to my hometown and commuted to work.  I was renting a room from some friends and having terrible headaches everyday.  I attributed the headaches to stress from the divorce, but after several months of headaches and a trip to the doctor I found out otherwise.  Two months after I separated from my husband, I was diagnosed with a very odd medical condition that causes swelling in the brain.  At the urging of my parents, I moved home.  Yep, back to my old bedroom and back to my childhood. 

People from a large city might not realize how humbling it is to come back to your hometown after a divorce.  On top of that, I was living with my parents.  Can we say loser?  That was how I felt.  From that driving sentence in my childhood, I knew I just needed to find my great love and everything would work out.  My divorce would be final soon.  I wouldn’t be sick forever and living in my parents’ house was only temporary. 

Because I live in a small town, I decided the internet was the best place to start.  I knew most of the single men in my hometown and I assumed if we were going to date we would have in high school or maybe we actually did.  For that reason, local men were scratched off my list of possible dates.  There was a whole world of people online that I’d never met, so I entered into the world of internet dating.  I joined at least four dating sites to ensure the highest number of possible dates.  Some were free sites and some were paid sites.  I’d find love even if it cost a monthly subscription.  Yes, quantity over quality wasn’t my best idea. 

I am a firm believer that honesty is the best policy, which meant explaining to potential suitors that I was very newly divorced, ill, and living with my parents didn’t exactly bring out the best men.  Most never got past a second or third chat or email without running for the hills.  But what about the ones who did? 

This is where my story begins.  I am going to share my experiences with the various bachelors I met.  I met each of these men online and crashed and burned in some way or another.  After each failed attempt at a real relationship, I would dust myself off, and get back on the net.  After all, they say you have to kiss a lot of frogs to find your prince, so I continued on.  However, in this case it seemed like a plague of frogs similar to the one in Moses’s time!

New Pain

My heart is broken, shattered into jagged pieces.

Some shards so sharp they stab my chest from the inside.

This pain is new. 

Never cried like this before.

Never wailed because a part of me is torn away.

For this pain isn't just about a lost lover.

This pain isn't just for a man I kissed.

This pain is for my friend.

A best friend.

An old friend.

He ripped out my soul and tore it to shreds with his hands.

He left me sobbing alone, empty in the dark.

In the room where he had held me the night before.

Where he said he loved me the night before.

The shards are stabbing me here in the dark.

My tears burn in the cuts from my own heart.

This is a new pain.

This pain for my friend.

This pain for my love.

This pain is new.

Imaginary Tumor

I mentioned in an earlier post that I moved in with my parents during my divorce because I got sick.  When I first separated I actually was renting a room from friends, but then in the middle of the divorce I found out I have a disease called Idiopathic Intracranial Hypertension aka Pseudotumor Cerebri.  Disease sounds pretty scary so most of the time I just say condition.  It's certainly not contagious.  I had to have an MRI to rule out a brain tumor and I had a spinal tap which was pretty painful.

The simplest way to explain my condition is that my body produces too much spinal fluid which is what cushions the brain in the skull.  That means my brain has too much fluid around it and is under pressure, sometimes extreme pressure.  It can cause my optic nerves to swell also.  The pressure causes MAJOR headaches and dizziness as well as a few other fun things like vision problems.

The name pseudotumor is because some of the symptoms mimic a brain tumor.  It actually means fake tumor.  My family and friends make jokes about things because hey, if you don't laugh about it you'll cry about it.  So, I get teased about my imaginary tumor.  They ask me if I've told whatever guy I'm dating about it yet.  The answer is always NO! :)

To learn more about my condition follow the link below.

iih.org

Ex-Disclaimer

I mentioned more than once that I am divorced and in a previous post I mentioned some of the guys I've dated in the past were some big time losers.  My ex-husband is not someone I'd classify as a loser.  Our marriage didn't work out for many reasons, but he is a good person.  I'm still friends with some of his family members.  He keeps in touch with people in my family.  Odd as it may seem to some, I would not want to intentionally hurt his feelings.  Although I am not in love with him, I will always love him like I love my family and friends.  I will always care what happens to him and wish him the best.  It's very important to me that he know this.  So on the off chance that he reads my blog, there it is.  And if not, at least others will know that it is possible to not hate your ex-husband.

Perfect Doesn't Exist

My dad and my brother recently talked to me on separate occasions about my choice in men.  They both are concerned that I am not choosy enough.  Although, they have differing theories as to why.  Daddy thinks I'm lonely, so I'm settling.  (I'm southern, so I still call my father Daddy. Get over it.)  My brother says I don't think enough of myself, so I don't think I can find anyone better.  I'm not so sure.  They both could be onto something, or maybe nothing at all.  I'm much pickier than they think... HA!  Seriously!  If they only saw the ones I turn down.  That would really freak them out.  Talk about some winners!

A week or so later I was riding around with a friend of mine and we were discussing what my dad and brother thought.  We both came to the conclusion that our families cannot be objective.  Parents want what is best for us. They want everything to be perfect and that includes our significant others.  They want to help us avoid heartbreak.  Even though we all know that's one of the few things you can't protect against.  I also talked to my mother about this and she mentioned perfection as well. Then she laughed because no matter how badly I want the perfect man to come along or my father wants him to come along for me, it's not happening.  Perfect doesn't exist.

A few days ago I had the opportunity to be in the car with my dad for a while.  It was just the two of us, so I mentioned the conversation with my friend and how it's difficult for our families to be objective about us.  He said that of course it was difficult if not impossible for him to be objective about me.  I then mentioned how my grandfather always thought he knew what was best for our family and that maybe Daddy was feeling like that about me.  He looked at me and said, "I honestly don't know what I want for you. I just want you to be happy, but I don't know if that will be single or married or what I want for your life."  That took me by complete surprise because my dad is probably the wisest person I know.  If I'm unsure about something, I ask him so I can get a clear picture of all my options.  He has always known what I should do especially in my professional life, but even in my personal life he has given sound advice and tried to be objective.

Since my divorce and illness, I think I have completely confused my family.  I know I've confused myself!  I had a plan and it was carved out on a narrow path.  After 8 years of working on my path, I realized my plan wasn't going to happen, so I took a bulldozer to the whole damn thing.  The problem is now I can't seem to find my way back to the path or any piece of those old goals whatsoever.  I guess I thought if anyone had some insight into what I should do it would be my dad. 

Apparently though I'm supposed to be an adult and make decisions for myself.  When did that happen?!?  Ugh. Being 30 is so not cool. Ha ha  I can't say I'm young and just make mistakes anymore.  I'm an actual grown up.  With nowhere to turn for answers, I'm floundering as usual.  I just feel completely lost at an age when I thought my life would be tied in a neat little bow.  I realize most people's lives are never tied in that neat little bow, but right now mine is more like the ragged little shoe string that keeps getting stepped on by the kindergartner who still can't tie his shoe laces.

I'm Not a Moron!

I started my first grad class and the professor is very intimidating.  He said anyone who has not taken one of his classes before will get a zero on their first paper and have to redo.  Repeatedly redoing one paper did not sound like how I want to spend my summer, so I drove 2 1/2 hours to meet this man.  Email wasn't doing it for me.  I needed to sit down and ask him questions face to face. I did that and I listened to what he had to say. Then I came home and worked on my paper for 4 days.  The first 4 days of my summer I spent on this paper! Yes, of course I took a few naps and I met friends for drinks (just once though), but for the most part, I was sitting on the couch typing like a maniac.  Don't judge!  It's my summer.  Anyway, the point is, I really did work my tail off on this paper.  I kept thinking I was doing it wrong.  Then I was worried I wasn't citing everything just right.  The night I submitted it I had a nightmare the professor turned me into the dean for plagiarism and was having me kicked out of grad school!  I was a nervous wreck waiting for his comments to see how much of it I was going to have to redo.  I got the paper back the next day and I got an A!!!  I couldn't believe it! He wrote in all caps that I was one of the few people who got credit the first time they submitted a paper to him. All I can say is thank you, Jesus! I am not a complete moron!  There are times I wonder and I KNOW there are times my parents wonder.