Sitting here on a Saturday night, planning tomorrow’s 12 miler. Baking banana bread. Doing laundry. Dogs sleeping somewhere in the house. Christmas decorations still in the garage, ready to go in the rafters.
And somehow, I thought it would be different.
I thought I would spin out yet another relationship. Meet, Marry, Repeat. Because. I was 30 the first time I divorced. The world was my smorgasboard. The men were prolific. Silly, fun. Still young enough to wear tank tops and go braless, and flip flops to the market. I was the kind of teacher who could take a week off with her current boyfriend to just go…and do what you do when you’re able.
So, I am two weeks shy of a 3 year separation. And. I thought it would be different. I thought I’d be dating. I thought a new man would suddenly appear, and I wouldn’t have to go to one of those dating sites because you know…GOD should put him in my path right? (Sidenote, eharmony said I was *stable*, after I took their test. I knew then that it was bullshit) I would be getting ready to go out to an adult date. Whatever that is. Whatever adults do on dates. Opera? Line Dancing? I have no idea.
The fact that there are 2 boys involved here make it so much less easy to try to get *out there*. I don’t want to disparage their dad. I don’t know. I don’t want them to have to pick. To have a step-dad or step-mom’s boyfriend or whatever it’s called.
I walk through my house some days…the house that I’m losing, and I think I need to stay here. I have put so much into this…but there are ghosts. Marriage voodoo, leftover bad mamajama in certain rooms. No amount of sage & praying will remove the room where I confronted him about the affair he said he wasn’t having. Or where we had countless arguments about how I couldn’t move on. About how I couldn’t let go.
There are days that I want the house. And days when I can’t wait to leave. Wherever we go, we have a lot of baggage, furniture, a room full of old toys and books that my boys can’t bear to give away, no matter how many trips to Salvation Army I beg them to take with me. I have their college fund in Thomas the Tank Engine. We have dogs. Expensive, fence eating dogs.
But, I thought it would be different. That I would have moved on, moved in, or established something new. I thought I was 30. Twenty years later, divorce is different. For many reasons.
So, I bake my bread for brunch with the girls tomorrow. I fold laundry and watch a movie, and take the time to wash my hair after the spa.
I’m not waiting for a man to complete me. I’m complete, and happy. I’m just ready. Where is he?