My arrangement with StbX is that I can now date. The paper work is not final, but the marriage has been for five years… So why wait? I now know the answer to that “rhetorical question”.
People my age should not be dating period. They should be married to someone who knows what their farts sound like and that know they used to eat peanut butter and Miracle Whip sandwiches. We are not mentally prepared to redo what was bad enough in our teens and twenties. NO.
Yikes! I am so horribly bad at this that you cannot imagine. I think I have made every possible mistake at least once now and have begun round two or three in the humiliation Olympics. In short, it SUCKS.
And of course I can hear Himself laughing again. Did I ever mention that I have some serious vanity issues? My father… who used to be my idol before I decided that boys had a greater use than having my back in a good game of Combat…used to tell me “It’s okay to be vain. There’s nothing wrong with knowing you’re good looking… just don’t be conceited.”
He was tall on irony. I was short on clues. He’d say… “You look just like Kim Novac” and other total lies that I ate up like Cheetos. THE HEAD GREW HUGE. One would think that I would figure out that daddies say this sort of crap to their little girls… even to the little girls that look like Golem.
Vanity is a cruel teacher. My first semester in college I had a writing class. I excelled… but you need to be clear that there were people in here with English as a second language who had trouble asking for a cigarette. One of the guys in my class asked me out. I was presented with several problems with this simple request.
I had no clue how to turn someone down. I stupidly agreed to go out before I knew where he wanted to take me. As it turned out, it was to some big family party full of “English as a second language” sort of people. But on the bright side… what could go wrong in a house full of relatives? (Yes I do recall being related to Medusa!)
I might have gone through with it, but then I overheard him and his buddy talking…the plan was to get away from the family as soon as possible and go out cruising… yep in one of those cars that hops. It would no doubt be playing some version of Latin music loudly. I was a psychedelic metal head for heaven’s sake! That was paramount to listening to Pat Boone! Not cool.
I drove a small vintage English sports car that my dad sold to me for a dollar. The very idea of sitting in that kind of car… hopping on the Blackstone drag was more than I could possibly endure! It was a convertible… people would be able to see me! I was mortified by my own vanity and total lack of empathy for a very nice young man. What a creep!
That evening the poor kid, dressed up in his very best came to my door to pick me up… Crazy4coens and I were sitting in the dark. I’d taken the “bell is broken” sign down. We sat and giggled… yes, giggled… as this poor sweet guy rang the doorbell repeatedly. The doorbell that had been disconnected for years. Eventually he gave up and left. The class we had shared was over at that point, so I felt pretty safe. When I did finally see him, he looked through me. I no longer existed. Rightfully so! What a crappy thing to do to a person.
So now Karma has come back to kick my butt around. Dating, which was so easy for me in college has become as difficult as it was for that poor boy who knocked on my door forever ago. How many broken doorbells do I have to push before I find someone willing to answer? It is an exercise in humility. I am humbled.
Yet, Himself must think that I’ve temporarily paid enough to merit mercy right now… ‘cause I finally have a date on the 22nd. Very cool beans!
Don’t worry TyeDye… Max is on it. I will be safe. Not sure my date will though. ;)
