J: Anniversary

Were it not for my divorce, today is the day that I would have been married for 12 years. TWELVE!

We couldn’t quite make it through five.

This year, today doesn’t hold the depression and the sorrow that it has held in the past. In years past, I have dreaded this day’s arrival on the calendar. But this year I didn’t even realize it was “today” until I was more than half way through the day and happened to see the date.

While I’ve been divorced for longer than I was married for awhile now, this year is the year that I’ve now been divorced for longer than I was with my ex, counting the dating years. Luckily, for the most part, he very rarely shows up in my thoughts and my dreams anymore. But, the years it took to get to this place weren’t easy.

I think the thing that bothers me the most about today now is that I’m not where I expected to be after this many years.

Statistics say that if you marry less than two years after divorce, the rate of second divorce goes up to 80%. When my divorce happened, the thought of waiting two whole years before my next relationship seemed impossible. How was I supposed to wait that long? How was I supposed to be all alone for that long? Surely, before 2 years were up, I’d have found someone and just be waiting for that magical two year gate to pass.

Instead, seven years later, I’m still single. However, looking back, I can recognize that I’m also infinitely happier today than I was two…five…even ten years ago.

J: Just Friends

I made a very tacky tactical error on Thursday.

After our “let’s just be friends” conversation, I agreed to get together with Sunflower Guy again, for a walk, downtown.

Between the conversation where I agreed to the walk, and when the actual walk happened I had a conversation with the girl who originally set us up. Apparently, during the long weekend, she received confirmation that he is indeed interested in more than friendship. When he was encouraged to pursue, pursue, pursue me if he was interested (“nooooo!” I was silently screaming during that part of the tale) his response was that “That’s just not the way it’s done.” He told her that he was going to take it slowly and let the relationship develop naturally.

Hummmph.

So, going into our walk, with this intel, I was very careful to make sure that I kept my hands well to myself. No risk of hand-holding…even accidentally, thank-you-very-much. This was a friend-ly walk, after all. Nothing more.

And then...

(Ugh…I can’t believe this...still!)

And then we got to the coffee shop where we had planned to take a walk-break ….and I realized that I had not brought along any money. At all. When I left my car, I had grabbed my phone and my key and left the rest of my stuff locked in the car.

So, this guy…this UNEMPLOYED guy…this guy who I had JUST had the “we’re just friends” conversation with…this very same guy who I want to keep everything completely & totally platonic with…I had to ask this guy to pay for my coffee!

I ordered the cheapest thing on the menu, in the smallest size that it came in. It was a $1.80 cup of hot tea. Completely and totally delicious….other than that bitter tang of guilt.

After the tea, we finished our walk, we got back to our cars, hugged and the evening was done.

It ended strangely. No promises of “next time” as in the past. And he walked off with a heartbreaking, dejected hang-dog look on his face.

I really do think he is a good guy. I really do want to be friends. But I just think that this walk turned out to be a nice little period at the end of that sentence.

We’ll see if he calls again. I don’t think that he will.

That very night, I had a dream. In my dream, I showed up for a party at our mutual friend’s house, with him by my side…again, as a friend. All of a sudden, that guy who broke my heart when he moved overseas but who returned to the US earlier this year (hereafter referred to as "World Traveling Guy") showed up at the party and came over to talk with me. I expressed shock that he was back in the city. He suggested that we go over to the pool to discuss what had happened. So I left Sunflower guy behind, sitting on the floor playing cars with a kid (Go Fish or Slap-Jack or Old Maid or some other such game). While I felt some guilt at abandoning Sunflower guy, I was at the party just as his friend, and I really was intrigued by what World Traveling Guy had to say. As we’re walking over towards the pool, World Traveling Guy reached back to take my hand in his.

I woke up disappointed that it had just been a dream.

In that dream, Sunflower guy had been so…childlike. He was happy and positive and asexual and go-with-the-flow and easy and just…not what I wanted or needed. On the other hand, World Traveling Guy WAS maturity. He was intriguing…he was mysterious…he was sexy. By taking my hand, without speaking a word, he showed me what he was looking for from me. He affirmed me, he stirred something in me. He was a man. And he made me feel like a woman.

This dream doesn’t mean I’m going to go chase down World Traveling Guy in real life and force him to tell me what happened between us and why he STILL hasn’t called despite being back for several months now. But it did affirm my decision regarding Sunflower guy. While I think he is fantastic, he’s really just not the one for me.

Isn’t it better to just end it now, if I know it's not going anywere, instead of letting things linger past the point where hearts really get involved? Isn’t that the respectful thing to do?

Really, there’s no need to try to force a relationship that won't happen. In the end, we’d both be miserable.

S: Days of Birth

And so the day arrived. Guy’s birthday.

Clearly I was the only one who had been looking forward to it. He definitely was not. He’s been struggling a little bit with the whole age thing. I have assured him that he is very much still in his prime, but even so…a big number looms in the not-distant-enough future.

I had some plans for the day. I wanted to make it special for him. I love birthdays. I love making birthdays a good day for people. I have fun finding the right gift and planning how the day will go.

But sometimes the day doesn’t go as planned. And then I get disappointed, even though it’s not my birthday.

This day did not start well. A typical frustration over a typical event (topic for a later blog). Not at all what I had in mind or planned for starting the day. So, I tossed his first gift at him unceremoniously. It wasn’t the big gift…although, big for me. It was a key to my house. He now has unfettered access to my domain.

I trust him, so I’m totally o.k. with it. Really…I am. But it’s still a big step for me.

I left shortly thereafter, in a dour mood. Feeling bad about the way his day started and wondering why we were in a funk. Things had been a little weird for a few days. Both of us inexplicably on edge and overly sensitive about things.

Perhaps our cycles have synced up.

I left a card in his car for him and went home feeling down. I waited for the text telling me he had seen the card. Would he say anything? I wasn’t sure. He’d been rather annoyed with me.

But it finally came. And was sweet. And included love.

Phew. The day was getting better.

Shortly after, I sent the 2^nd gift. We had been talking about a website as kind of a joke, so I actually purchased the domain and set up a blog site for him. I wasn’t sure I was going to get it done in time, but I figured out a simple way to do it and actually got it up while at his house the night before (with him peeved at me in the other room).

I wasn’t sure when he would see the email, knowing he often gets caught up in meetings during his work day. Still, I waited. What would he think? Would it be funny to him? Would he even notice?

Not too long later, his reply showed up in my inbox. He thought I was cute and crazy. Which is a fair assessment.

Excellent…gift 1: success; card: success; gift 2: success. Even with the bad start, perhaps I could make the day o.k. If I didn’t screw anything up.

But the day was still young and there was plenty of time for me to screw things up.

I had plans for seeing him and having some fun together after work. And more and more I was getting the impression that he did not have the same plans. So I sent an email specifically describing the evening I wanted to treat him to.

No reply.

His son had a game in the early evening that I had been hoping to go to, but I know how Guy feels about awkwardness with me and his ex at the same event. So I had been told not to worry about going to the game. Under the guise of giving me the time to do other things. As if a favor to me.

Uninvited. Some favor.

Not going to the game was quite disappointing. Fortunately, the final verdict came down while I was on the elliptical, so I was able to sweat out my frustration. I’m pretty sure I sweated out frustrations I haven’t even had yet. But I still felt bad.

Of course, I had to remind myself that the day is not about me or what I want to do…it’s about him.

I had hoped to take Guy out for dinner and drinks after his son’s game, but at some point, he texted that he was eating. Ok…no dinner. Also, he had been to the doctor and is not supposed to drink. Ok…no drinks. Or participate in any strenuous activity. Ok…no fun stuff.

Not at ALL what I was hoping his day would turn out to be.

But it’s not about me.

Eventually he told me he would just call me after the game and let me know what he wanted to do and when he wanted me to come over. I got the impression that I was not on the top of his list for the evening. Here I wanted to show him a good time and he had other things to do.

I had come home early to get my workout in and his final gift ready and left the evening open for him. Now I had nothing to do. And I was feeling back-burnered.

His birthday…his plans. Getting over it.

So I waited.

Then the call came. Instead of putting me off for a while, which is what I was expecting, he wanted me to head over right away. This was good. He wanted to see me, and not as an afterthought.

Back on the upswing.

I hurriedly got my stuff together and left. Then turned around and went back to feed my cats. And left again. Then turned around and went back to get my phone. And finally left a third time, for good.

I had one stop to make…for a birthday treat, because no good birthday is complete without a treat. Of course, apparently it was everyone’s birthday because the place was packed full of people picking up treats.

Tick tock.

I had caused trouble with Guy by being delayed in getting to his place the night before (getting a gift for him, of course), so I wasn’t really interested in a replay. Not this day. Not after things were getting good again.

Finally, I made it to his house. He was in a way better mood than he had been that morning. He even apologized for being a crabbypants when we woke up. I gave him gift number three, which was deemed to be too expensive, but was actually much better received than I expected. That means he liked it.

Gift giving skills…still got it.

The evening was laid back and I surprised him with his final gift…his delicious, frozen dairy birthday treat that took me way too long to get at the store. It was much appreciated and seemed to hit the spot. And explained my tardiness in a sugary, well-worth-it way.

And then I messed up. In a huge way. In a way I mess up all the time. In the way I have been messing up for three days straight. The one thing I had intended to do for him all along…bookending the day, I did not do. Because…I can’t even explain why. This caused a rather negative discussion the following morning. (Again, the subject of that future blog.) And basically, ended his birthday, the day I had wanted to make special, badly. Like, I’ll-never-hear-the-end-of-it badly.

He says he had a good day. He liked his gifts and appreciates what I did for him. But the absence of this one thing is disappointing to both of us and definitely what we will both always remember about our first birthday experience together. And it was my fault. And I have no idea how to ever make up for it.

Maybe for my birthday he’ll leave a skinned puppy on my front step and we’ll be even.

J: More Thinking

Bestest Guy Friend and I got the chance to go to lunch together today.

Somehow the subject of that scene from “Up in the Air” came up and I shared with him how much it had affected me. The sadness of recognizing the way expectations change. The loss of giving up on ideals. The fear of settling. The young one’s pride in thinking she had the world by the tail. The hope that when it happens it wouldn’t feel like settling.

While Bestest Guy Friend could understand where I was coming from, he offered up the idea in a slightly different way: While we “settle” more regarding some things as we get older, we also settle less on other things.

When I was engaged to my ex-husband, the fact that he didn’t want kids (and I did) didn’t matter that much. He’d surely someday change his mind.

It didn’t matter that his big ambition was to be a writer. Or an inventor. Or a musician. (Depending on the day). He’d surely someday be famous.

It didn’t matter that he jumped from one job to another. He’d surely someday find a boss who finally ’got’ him.

It didn’t matter that he went through money like it was going out of style. He’d surely someday make enough money to get us out of debt. (He was going to be famous, remember?)

It didn’t matter that he lied to our friends & family. He surely wasn’t lying to me.

Besides, those things…they were all “little” things. Things I could easily change about him…surely.

Riggggghhhht…

(These are just a few of the reasons I’m the “divorced one” on this blog.)

Granted…I was married at twenty-one. TWENTY-ONE! I had no clue what I was getting myself into. Now that I’m in my 30’s, I have already (without even realizing it) made some very different choices.

It’s not okay if I can’t respect him or his choices. It’s not okay if he doesn’t have enough ambition to support himself. It’s not okay if he’s unreliable or breaks his word. It’s not okay if his passion is video games or drugs or alcohol or strip clubs. It’s not okay if he doesn’t want kids or hates dogs.

No matter how cute he might be.

Looking back, when I consider all of the important areas where I was willing to settle at 21, I have a feeling “shorter than me” won’t seem like such a deal-breaker when the truly important things are there.

S: Upchuck Update

First things first, my apologies for the title. I couldn't help myself.

I stayed up all night while Guy tried to rest, to make sure he was o.k. I even went to get him some yummy pink tablets to chew at 3 in the morning. Then I helped get his son off to school at 7.

He's still feeling pretty bad. And now I fear I have set a high bar for myself for any future illnesses. Based on my behavior during this first trial, I will always have to be the attentive, 24-hour nurse.

Let's see...I think I'm o.k. with that.

The key is to keep him well.

S: We Are Sick Puppies

Guy and I are currently in the midst of our first real relationship illness.

Not an infirmed relationship, but actual, physical, hazmat-worthy sickness.

I started it. I think. We’re not really sure. But the truly icky stuff started with me.

The night it began, I received proper doses of sympathy…via the phone. And he was even sweet enough to drive to my house with soda and crackers at 1 in the morning after I had been turned inside out by the microbial monster inside me.

Food poisoning? Virus? Targeted warfare? Who knows?

He felt bad for me and generously drove to me with comfort foods in the middle of the night, but he wasn’t taking any chances. When he arrived with the reinforcements, he was again sympathetic, but stayed well away and kept his mouth and nose covered with a napkin.

He hates being sick. Especially in such a manner. He wanted no part. I didn’t blame him and didn’t want him to catch what I had, if it could indeed be caught. So I thought nothing of his distance. Keep away is what I would say.

The following day was spent pretty much useless on my couch. I attempted to get some work done between visits with the porcelain god, but was rather tired and couldn’t focus. By then I had developed a fever and wrote off the food poisoning theory. I had also developed a deep frustration for being laid up and not having an appetite. And the bathroom…I was very tired of the bathroom and the activities therein. One cracker should not cause such horrors. It ain't right.

I am not good at being sick.

Still I received concerned texts and calls and apologies for the lack of visits. But I understood. I didn’t want him around. I didn’t want to get him sick and he REALLY didn’t need to experience me in this state any more than he already had.

The next day, I was pretty much over whatever I had…mentally. Holiday weekend. Gorgeous weather. Cabin fever. Sheila will be sick no more. And, really, I was feeling better. The actual fever was gone. I could eat 5 crackers instead of just 1. No bathroom events. I even mowed the lawn. Slowly. Obviously, I will do all in my power to talk myself out of being sick. That's how much I can't stand it. Being sick is dead to me.

So, by day 3, there is no more sick...there is only well.

This meant party time. I got myself cleaned up and perked up and headed to a couple of parties with Guy. I took it easy. I hadn’t eaten anything but some toast and a few crackers all day, so I just stuck with water at the first party. When that and the day’s other foodstuffs seemed to sit ok in my system (and my self-imposed Jedi mind tricks seemed to have worked on the inner demons), I got over-confident and had a beer. Well…2. Over a few hours.

Oops.

System breakdown. Not good.

The system was still broken down the next day. Although not as badly as it had been. But still, potty problems while camping (yes…camping) are never good.

I faked being well as much as I could, but eventually had to ‘fess up to Guy that the situation was still not normal. He was slightly annoyed that I had let him kiss me for two days while I was still sick, but I told him that at the time I really thought I was past it (which was true, I did...I thought it was over). But clearly wasn’t past me. He dropped it.

Guess who’s sick now.

I’m at his place. Keeping watch. Comforting. Fetching things. Not being of much use really. But he wants me around because his son is here and he feels better if I’m here…just in case. And he's going to need help in the morning getting him to school.

I asked if he was mad at me. He says he’s not. He doesn’t seem to be. In fact, at some point, while he had his head in my lap and I rubbed his back, he commented on how little bedside attention he gave me compared to what I was giving him.

Another new thing for me. Bedside manner. I’m not that good at it. I mean, I feel bad when people are sick, but I grew up with “quitcher bellyachin’…yer not hurt,” so I don’t coddle much. Maybe it’s because I feel bad that I most likely passed this on to him because I was too stubborn to just stay home for another few days. Maybe it’s because I just had it, so I know what it’s like. Maybe it’s because I know he doesn’t get sick very often and isn’t being melodramatic for the sake of some attention.

Maybe I’m getting soft because I love him.

Maybe.

I will tell you one thing…dude is still effing hot, even when he’s been yarfing. It’s kind of unbelievable.

Is it ok to take advantage of a sick man in bed?

No, Sheila! Bad, Sheila! You are one sick puppy, Sheila.

Prepare the sponge bath.

S: Bad Blogger

Hi. My name is Sheila and I am a bad blogger.

I have no excuse.

If you could just read the blogs I compose in my head every day, life would be simpler. If there was an app for that, I'd be set.

I am constantly pondering my relationship with Guy, which distracts me and makes me forget things and mess things up and be a regular dumbass sometimes, but what it doesn't do is make me sit down and tippity-type out my thoughts.

Which I should.

Here's what I owe you...

- birthday fiasco
- moratorium on sex
- sick
- camping
and the big one:
- religion

This week, you will get all of these posts in some form. Currently, I am composing at 1:27 in the AM. If that's what I have to do all week to get caught up, then that's what I have to do.

You have my permission to email dateclubsheila at gmail to pester until I get it done. My Date Club sistahs may text me. (Yes, Jane, you can text me again...I'll be nice).

Who knows if this stuff is at all interesting, but a blog is for logging life on the web. The web does not exist inside Sheila's feeble little mind. Logging life in Sheila's mind is pointless.

As is referring to ourselves in the third person. But Sheila isn't planning to stop that.

Annnnnnd go!