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| Just Kidding. Maybe. |
It's New Year's Eve. Another year is
behind me. And I'm still single as f***.
Honestly, it's not a bad thing. After
the emotional rollercoaster and stress of being in toxic
relationships over the last eight years, it's like a vacation.
A “mancation,” if you will.
There's no accidentally finding out the
guy I'm dating has sent pics of his junk to several different girls –
and not me, his girlfriend, the one he should be sending them to!
Which of my friends is going to sleep with the guy I'm seeing? No
one's wife is contacting me about why there's a photo of me and her
husband on Facebook. I don't have to worry about seeing my beau
tagged in a photo on social media with his girlfriend - who is not
me. There's also no wondering if the guy telling me he loves me is
also telling another girl he loves her, too.
Because, Tinder and every other
right-swipe, hook-up app is connecting more genitals than alcohol. But,
I digress.
Sigh.
I'm not sure where I thought I would be
10 years after my divorce. However, I'm certain sitting on my couch
with my laptop, a bottle of cheap vino and typing out my memoirs –
alone – to BBC Cop dramas (I love you, David Tennant) on Netflix
was not what I anticipated.
Neither was the accidental nap, but that just happened.
The holidays are always a time of
reflection for me. Mostly because there's one ex who always emails to
say he misses me, still loves me and wants me back. Not that I
believe him, but even if I wanted to, how would he explain that to
his new, live-in girlfriend?
I peaced out of that relationship after
31/2 years because he cheated. It wasn't the only time he cheated on
me, but it was the first time he said he was in love with another
girl – which turned out to be THE dealbreaker, because obviously,
cheating wasn't. Even then, I knew if I waited, he would have come
back to me, like he always did, and like I always let him. But I
decided that wasn't the kind of love I wanted.
I have to laugh when I think of him
sometimes. I truly believe the only good thing that ever came from
being with him were the resulting blog posts. And if I had ever
needed proof, he unwittingly provided that about two months
post-break-up.
He offered to send me something as
proof – a symbol – of his love for me. While I knew it wasn't a
good idea, the blogger in me decided to let it play out. I'm so glad
I did. Not that I enjoyed all the poetry and dick pics he sent before
his package arrived (no pun intended). It was because once that
'proof' arrived, I finally understood him.
No joke, he sent me a box full of adult
toys and dirty lingerie, covered in glitter and cheap perfume. Wait.
It gets better. The piece-de-resistance: a pink, light-up, vibrating
dildo mounted on a blow up seat. If anything, I had to admire his
courage in sending me something that was not only bigger than his own
junk, but looked way more fun. My only regret was not taking photos
before tossing it all in the trash.
But, that box of sex was about as
perfect as it would get from him. It's the only real truth he said
without having to say anything. He didn't love me. He probably never
did. He just loved what he could do with me. What kind of love is
that?
Probably the same kind of love that
drives someone to a right-swipe frenzy on Tinder because they don't
trust where a relationship is going. I never even saw that one
coming. Pun intended.
But, to be fair, once I met him and
knew his situation, it was clear to me that he wasn't in any place to
be in a relationship – even if he didn't know that himself. I have
this gift of knowing when something isn't right, and for most of my
life I ignored the glaringly obvious because it kept getting in the
way of what I wanted.
Not too long ago, I was driving an
ex-boyfriend to a movie and made a joke about not scaring him
Ugh. Please. Don't do me any favors,
I'm over it, we're friends and that's all we will ever be, you sealed
that deal when you used me to cheat on one of your girlfriends. Again, I
digress.
Everything happens for a reason.
Sometimes that reason is because I'm dumb and make stupid decisions.
But I learn from my experiences.
Okay, that's a lie. I didn't actually
learn from them in the sense that I evaluated experiences and took
steps to prevent myself from making the same mistake twice. Because I
can certainly attest to making them at least 10 times, paying
attention to every detail and making sure there was absolutely,
without a doubt, no way I could turn weeds into flowers – or a
douchebag into a prince.
It's not that I don't know any better.
I know what I'm doing and even tell myself, “Dawn, this is so dumb,
don't do it.” But a little voice counters with, “You're not
getting any younger, this could be your last chance, opportunities
like this don't knock twice.”
Actually, some “opportunities”
knocked so many times, at one point, all I had to do was prop the
door open and wait. True story.
And what came through that door was not
Gerard Butler – the P.S. I Love You Version. It was the guy who
liked to wear women's clothes and be dominated; the other guy who
thought it was okay to knock up his deployed buddy's wife and deny
paternity; and a single dad who declared he could not get the feels
for anyone but his kids – during a prego-scare. Oh, and the guy
with the hairy moles on his face and cockroaches in his apartment.
Don't judge me and I won't judge you.
I used to blame the douchebags. But
once I started to really evaluate each experience – well, I still
blamed the douchebags; however, I also realized there were things I
was doing wrong and not just in my romantic relationships, but in
every relationship. I was doing the same thing I've always done, with
different people - or trying different things with the same people - and expecting different results. It was a pattern.
People treat you the way you let them.
If you don't respect yourself, why should someone else respect you?
The first time you compromise who you are for someone else, be it a
friend or lover, you're telling them you will accept less than you
deserve. Once I figured out how easy it was for me to make excuses
for the sake of making things work that shouldn't, like trying to fit
a square block into a round hole, I decided to stop.
I've been single ever since. The end.
Kidding.
It wasn't the end, but just the
beginning. I learned to evaluate my experiences, make some
adjustments and then forgive my past so that I could move on.
Sometimes, I miss who I was before all the drama, but I like who I've
become after everything settled. Through it all, I never gave up on
people, and I didn't swear off relationships because it hurts too
much when it's over. It's all part of the experience.
I lost a lot of friends, made some
frenemies and even some haters. But I've also gained, like, five
really good friends with a community of supporting friends. And I
haven't looked back. I'd count my blessings, but I am pretty
terrible at maths.
And even though I wouldn't mind being
in a relationship one day, feeling like I don't need to settle for
one because of my age and an imaginary shelf-life just to be happy,
is liberating.
Besides, as much as I dislike being associated with the term, "cougars" don't have an
expiration date.
So, here's to taking chances, having fun, making mistakes, embracing who you are and learning to forgive and move on. Cheers.
