This April’s Fool: Today I Napped When I Should’ve Walked
I masturbated when I should’ve written. I ate well and then I ate a bag of popcorn. I watched television and played an iPhone game on the hammock in the front yard. I was April’s Fool today. I was full of something, unaimed and unfocused, I gave into the whimsy of the humor on Facebook. I forgot for a moment that I have a business to run, that I am trimming myself to attract a better mate. I forgot all this stuff and simply fucked around today.
I did pick up the guitar and I wrote a few lines of a song…
you’re who I think about, when I think about *uhhh*
you’re who I think about
you’re who I think about when I think about it
and I think about it
and I think about YOU
And I found myself thinking about the lover again. What about that proposition? Just walking around the grocery store I could see the beautiful taut bodies and think, hmmm, maybe if I said YES again… I’m conflicted. But masturbation is so easy. So quick. So soulless. It’s clearly why I went on Flight 7 a few weeks ago, just incase. In many ways I’m happier than ever, and in some ways I’m still alone. Full of myself, but alone.
Perhaps I talked too much today. I spent time on the phone with my male friend talking about her and it and what we were gonna do. And then I didn’t do it at all. I started out with a spark, but it faded, and today even the coffee and moments of inspiration didn’t carry me forward.
Alone I am able to listen to my heart. Sometimes I don’t want to. I had an offer to join someone for happy hour and hugs. But I was more comfortable being uncomfortable. I noticed that if I filled all my empty spaces with a relationship, I would have very little time for this empty, and yet important, reflection on myself. Myself being alone.
I point at how fast my ex-y jumped into the sack and now into the house with someone else. And I hold up some example of health and mental clarity, but here I am, alone.
What is alone, today?
When there are posts to write, music to sing, or poems to voice, I am like a romantic warrior on a quest. SHE is here, SHE is everywhere, SHE will eventually find me again. When I am bored, bored and alone, I have a different conversation. I wonder about what I want. I wonder about what it would look like if this evening, instead of dinner for one and catching up, alone, on Game of Thrones, I wonder what it would be like if that someone, if SHE was in the house waiting for me to come in and start our “together” time. And for a moment I have pause. I wait and savor the peaceful sunset in the hammock. I cook the salmon to my liking and give the rest to the cats.
What is difficult about being in relationship with an artist, from the artist’s perspective is how to balance the draw towards time with loved ones vs. time at craft. Without the “time at craft” the artist will become an idea rather than a practice. I am rediscovering the artist that has held his tongue for years. Hold that vibrant word inside no longer.
But what of that potential date? What draws me towards giving up this quiet nothingness of an evening? What warmth of company, of community, of skin and breath and angle of bone, is worth all the trouble of figuring it out? Last week I could not have told you. Today it was apparent, I wanted comfort. Not applause, or even sex, just company.
It is important to listen to the desires of the heart. It is important to remember what I am seeking and what I am willing to give up.
And on an April day it is occasionally okay to abandon the plan and camp out on the hammock and play games, fuck off, and day dream. Drive and direction can be picked up again tomorrow. There’s plenty of time. And in this time, this alone time, it is critical to listen to what the heart is longing for while being aware of what I am willing to give up in the name of resolving or filling that longing.
Sincerely,
The Off Parent
Resources:
- The Divorce Library (reading list)
- Songs of Divorce (free listening library – youtube sourced songs)
- Laugh It Off (building a resource library of funny videos and other diversions)
She Would’ve Liked Me To Just Leave the House
When the proverbial shit hit the fan, and she had fully articulated that she wanted a divorce, that she had gone to see an attorney to understand her “options,” that even our therapist had shown his doubts about our survivability, she wanted me to leave. She was incensed that I simply would not LEAVE THE HOUSE.
I made a declaration over and over as she kept raising the subject. “I will not bring this divorce full-force into this house until our kids have finished this year in school.” She was not happy. She used ideas like “trial separation” as enticements. No way.
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But I was not willing to uproot the entire family, because the ex-y had come to a decision, had weighed her options, and seen an opening and a greener pasture outside my arms.
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I was the survivor of a horrible divorce, when my parents started the kid wars that became my life. When I grieved my divorce, as it had been spelled out for me by my sessions with the ex-y, I was crying for my kids, not for me. Of course, I’m aware enough to know that my tears for my son were really tears AS A SON, who was losing his dad. I lost my dad, big time. When he walked out that door, the second time, he never came back. And our lives quickly descended into a living hell for years. My dad is not me. My son is not having that experience. Not by a long shot.
But I was not willing to uproot the entire family, because the ex-y had come to a decision, had weighed her options, and seen an opening and a greener pasture outside my arms. Our kids were in 2nd and 4th grade. It still makes me angry to think she was so oblivious to their needs and only focused on HER needs. Her needs for immediate separation and space. For her to get HER house. I guess…
I did not move out until the kids were done with school. It was two of the hardest months of my life. Knowing I was toast, that my wife was unreachable, and that I was more of a ghost dad than a dad. But I stayed my ground. Fuck her and her separation and space. And fuck if I was going to give her the house, just like that.
In the end, that’s what happened, she got the house, as my real estate friend who was experienced in several divorces said she would. “She’s gonna get the house, and your still going to be paying for it,” he said. And while part of that does not seem fair, it’s the way it is. Any whining about it is whining. Let’s move on.
I did not walk out the door that March. But in many ways, as June arrived and the kids completed their semester in elementary school, I suffered mightily for my decision. I think it was the right decision. As I said to the ex-y, it’s a business. We can’t just divorce overnight. There are a lot of details to work out. So what’s the hurry? Other than the fact that you want me out, you want to start whatever is next. And boy didn’t she. She was sexing it up within weeks of the divorce papers being filed. SHE WAS THE STARVED PARTY? What? That’s kinda funny.
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…Being a great parent, and looking after the best interests of our kids even when it goes against what we want or think we need.
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Okay, so I stayed and now I have my badge of honor and my heart-on-sleeve righteousness. But it was a hard two months. As we navigated sleeping in separate rooms and getting the kids ready for school, and coordinating the details of running a family. By June I was a basket case. I was depressed beyond belief, I was hardly functional, but hey, we’d done it. The kids got to finish 2nd and 4th grade without the sigma of their familial collapse.
I’m trying to take precautionary action this year, before June arrives with it’s regret and memories. The long summer. The death of my marriage. The real separation of my kids from me. And the last three summers have been very hard. I can plan, strategize, and keep meeting with my talky doctor, but to say I’m bulletproof heading towards summer would be a fool’s dream.
I am leery of summer now. I am a bit sad just now, thinking about how hard the past three summers have been.
I am also strong, rebuilt, and reoriented towards health, fitness, and being a great parent. And part of that includes looking after the best interests of our kids even when it goes against what we want or think we need.
Sincerely,
The Off Parent
< back to The Hard Stuff pages
related posts:
- Giving Up On Me, and Why I Still Hate What You Did
- Breaking Up and Getting Over It: Someday We’ll Know
- The Whimsical Blowjob & Other Unexplainable Ecstasies
- Cheating Hearts, Cheating Minds
resources:
- The Divorce Library (reading list)
- Songs of Divorce (free listening library – youtube sourced songs)
- Laugh It Off (building a resource library of funny videos and other diversions)
- Facebook (follow us on Facebook and keep up with all the conversations)
- The 5 Love Languages (a book on love styles by Gary Chapman)
Cheating Hearts, Cheating Minds
I don’t think I ever caught her cheating on me. I’m going to assume that she told me the truth about things when confronted. But, without taking her clothes off, there was a moment, a very painful moment, that I can now see was really an affair. It didn’t wreck our marriage, but it put a huge hole in my trust. And when things got difficult it was occasionally hard for me to not imagine she was seeing him, or someone, for lunch again.
After all, she was in a relationship when we ran into each other again. And she took some lunches and even a date with me before calling it off with me, so she could go figure if she was IN or OUT with the other guy.
IF I had owned that this behavior was a problem, I MIGHT have avoided the marriage and divorce all together. That of course, is not the way things worked out. She called me about six weeks after asking for a “moment of silence” and simply said, “We’re done.” My first question, “What are you doing tonight? Wanna go over to a friend’s and watch a movie with us?” “Sure.” Swoon. Remove brain from cranium and move to other head. Again, water under the bridge, but looking back, to uncover my mistakes, this was the biggest one. IF she was willing to have lunches with ME, while still living with HIM… (I didn’t really know the status of their relationship at the time.) I just don’t think that was very CLEAR. For the other guy or me.
Jump cut about 4 years later and we’re married with a child in the crib. Wow. A wonderful life.
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It was from a younger man, who she had recently started working with as part of a freelance team. He was thanking her for sharing the local library with him as a place for coffee and respite within our community.
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And then we were unjustly interrupted, like everyone else, by the prosperity ending 911 tragedy. The comfy lifestyle and happy home became a source of stress and “oh my goodness.” And unfortunately, my self-employment viability came crashing to the ground as my clients all FROZE all business. I struggled. I got depressed. I got on medication. I hated life. I loved my wife and kid. But I was suddenly not sure how I was going to support them or the lifestyle I had hoped to accomplish at this point in my life.
So we soldiered along and the second child was born into this rough world. We got what we wanted, a boy AND a girl. Happy bouncing babies. Not so happy and bouncing parents.
One day, during this “rough patch” I came home and pulled up a browser on her computer. We always used whatever computer was on the desk at the time. (this was before universal wifi everywhere) And her gmail account was open. Nonchalantly, I noticed some spam in her inbox, and as I was the gatekeeper, I clicked on one of the spammy messages.
It was not spam.
It was from a younger man, who she had recently started working with as part of a freelance team. He was thanking her for sharing the local library with him as a place for coffee and respite within our community. He was talking to her about “dealing with your husband’s depression” and “let’s do it again soon.”
In my fragile mental state I almost cracked. I can see how this kind of thing would make people go mad. At that point I was not all that comfortable with my anger, so I turned it inward and go sad. And fat. And what hope I had was lost to my wrong-headed fantasies about their tryst.
I did tell her and she apologized and said she saw how this would hurt me and that she would stop. She claimed to be unaware of how it “might have affected me” since she was innocent of any real transgression, but she would abide by my wishes and not see this guy for lunches anymore. And she would tell him as well.
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I am getting clearer and clearer in my request for a relationship. And ultimately I am attempting to learn about my heart, my communication styles, and my needs.
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But the wound was slow to heal for me. She seemed to move right along, except when I would bring it up in counseling. But even then, it wasn’t anything all that important, other than how I perceived it. She said. I’m certain she understood how it hurt me, as I expressed this fairly well. But she was unwilling to really dig into what had made her share intimate details of our lives with a stranger. How she would turn to him for comfort rather than explore the pain with me. We were already in therapy. What was she doing with THAT time?
I took screenshots of all of the messages and put them away somewhere. But later, as I was purging my own pain and guilt, I deleted them. I would not want to look back on them now. But this experience does allow me to reflect on several things.
- My ex-y was having honesty issues, even with me, when we met.
- While she wasn’t very expressive of her emotions, they did exist.
- The warning flare around her intention in going to lunch with me while living with another man, should have been a deal killer. But she was/is very beautiful. I fell for her charms and did not listen to the concerns I should have been hearing.
It reminds me a little bit of the woman, who more recently stopped responding with positive reinforcements when I asked her to do things. Truth is, she liked to drink. And though I occasionally have a glass of wine or a beer, it’s not part of my normal day. Giving up alcohol for Lent would be trivial, not a hardship. (ice cream would be hard)
I am getting clearer and clearer in my request for a relationship. And I am honing my listening skills. And ultimately I am attempting to learn about my heart, my communication styles, and my needs. THEN, and only after I have some clarity for myself, am I open to having a new relationship enter my life. The one I am ready for.
Sincerely,
The Off Parent
< back to The Hard Stuff pages
related posts:
- My Divorce: A Searching and Fearless Moral Inventory
- Waiting for the Other Person to Change
- Love, War, Divorce: Why I’m Not Fighting My Ex-Wife About Custody
- Divorce is Not About What’s Fair, Let’s Get That Straight
- Getting Angry, Reaching Forgiveness, and Moving On After Divorce
resources:
- The Divorce Library (reading list)
- Songs of Divorce (free listening library – youtube sourced songs)
- Laugh It Off (building a resource library of funny videos and other diversions)
- Facebook (follow us on Facebook and keep up with all the conversations)
- The 5 Love Languages (a book on love styles by Gary Chapman)
There Is No Fountain of Youth; Let’s Find A Deeper Level of Connection
I guess it’s traditionally a woman thing. This obsession with youth, taut breasts, eye wrinkles, etc. And maybe culture HAS established this bar of glamour. Magazines, television, movies, celebrity, we are in love with the beautiful. And for many youth has it’s allure. But it’s very thin this skin deep obsession. And in this moment, I am trying to understand even more clearly want my own wants and desires are, and what drives my taste vs my passion.
I was educated on a woman’s body by Penthouse magazine. And before you glaze over and discount this observation, I want you to understand that in my generation, that’s what we had. And yes there was a very clear distinction between Penthouse and Playboy. Playboy was about big tits. Penthouse was about showing the vagina. And occasionally Penthouse taunted and trained us with the obsessive fantasy of lesbians. Hot lesbians. Lipstick lesbians, who while, into each other at the moment, would clearly like us to enter the picture at any moment. That was the bill of goods we were being fed.
And maybe the irony is, you were raised on a different kind of porn, but porn nonetheless. Women’s fashion magazines are part the media training that you received in identifying what was beautiful and what a real man desired.
We’ve both been sold a load of crap. And the lie continues. Even the medical authorities have gotten into the game with longevity medicine. Now, in addition to Botox and lifts you can have your biological chemistry measured and you can subscribe to a supplement regimen that is guaranteed .. Oh wait, no guarantees… Sorry.
There are a few elixirs that I DO know of that work. And the remarkable thing is, they work for both of us, men and women. Here’s what I believe about fitness and beauty.
Yoga is probably to perfect exercise. It incorporates self-reflection, patience, meditation, and relaxation. The term flexibility that applies to yoga is also a topical remedy to everything life throws us. Understand and learn how to be flexible. Move when the pressure is too much. Breath into the issue and see if there is an answer in the pause.
Water and supplements are required. No matter how well you eat, unless you’re paying a chef to keep you healthy, you will probably need a supplement or two. In the functional medicine world, these supplements can be expensive and very pinpointed for your “condition.” A very popular local MD has a two month waiting list to get into her “program.” And the opening volley is two thousand dollars. Before supplements Nice if you can afford it, but… You can afford a very high-quality organic vitamin from Whole Foods that should cover a good portion of your nutrient deficiencies. (Of course I have no idea what I’m talking about, I’m just saying, you probably need supplements of some sort, so get the best vitamin you can afford and take it.) And if you are drinking other things MORE than water, try and continue to shift the balance back towards water. Clean water.
What you eat can have a huge effect on your health, weight, appearance. So pay attention to what works or does not work for your body. I recently started doing a paleo regimen and I dropped 17 lbs without really adding much additional exercise to my planning. I’m back up about 5 lbs from that point, because I added some breads and desserts in as a celebration. The celebration is over. Back to simple meat and veggies.
Exercise is fun if you like to do it. If you don’t, find something you DO like to do. I love tennis. I love walking around the lake where hundreds of others are walking. And I almost always work with great music driving me on. If you don’t exercise your body will have less resilience. And without exercise your diet is going to help but not kick you back into the fitness level YOU desire.
Let’s get this straight. I’m not ever going to have the body I had as a high school swimmer. BUT, a man my age, I’m not really interested in looking for the high school swimmer to date either. The young woman in the picture above is beautiful, and just starting out in life. She’s more a daughter figure than a date. And while the porn and media still show us the 20-somethings as the object of affection, I’ve pretty much moved on.
Youth is amazing to look at. And youth needs our guidance to keep their orientation on career path rather than glamour, cheerleading, or sports. Sure, do those things too. Be popular. But think about what you are going to do for a living.
And as far as our generation goes (I’m at the tail-end of the boomer generation) let’s let go of gravity-free breasts, cheeks caked and injected, and hair so processed it’s not really hair, it’s a wig.
As the ex-y went from a runner physique to a mother physique I was pleased. Very happy with both incarnations of her beautiful body. And when her breast went from beauty to utility and then ended their supply run, I was still just as in love with them, as they had aged gracefully and naturally.
I’m no authority on fashion or cultural stereotypes, but I know that I have my own youthful-addiction when it comes to beautiful bodes in movies, music videos, and on the net. (Not so much into porn these days, as touch is so much more critical path for me.) And I still, personally, go for the bad girl. Even when all the signs are there. And I’m guessing this is partially the culture and media culture as well.
Here’s a final example of my own whacked out beauty measuring stick. In the video below make a note that Courtney Love is 45 years old in the video and has had hundreds of thousands of dollars of plastic surgery done to tuck and sculpt her into this bad girl. And the bass player, who is much more my type, is also a figment of our imagination, rather than a real person. How they smile, tease and entice with their siren’s looks and come hither moves. Oh…
click for video
But we know for a fact that Courtney Love has some serious mental problems. And yet, she’s desirable. BUT, I will note, not in a relationship kind of way, but in a pretty-to-look-at obsessive way.
The end of the video has a surreal moment with a beach full of women in lifeguard bathing suits carrying baby dolls at their breasts. And Ms. Love walking through them and tears off her dress and jumps in the ocean.
Her final lyrics are, “I can’t be near you, the light just radiates. I can’t be near you, the light just radiates.” And from the wikipedia entry, Love is “a woman who, for the last 15 years, has been as famous for being a rock star as she’s been for being a victim.” Courtney Love
This Barbara Walters interview shows a bit of the train wreck of Courtney Love. But I think this picture of the vixen at Cochella this year, shows a bit more clearly how the facade is not holding up that well. And still, there is a that bad girl appeal somewhere in my gut. YUK. No thank you. Maybe this is reinforcing the “youth” stereotype, but it’s not her youth or lack of youth that is appealing or appalling. It’s her entire show.
Sincerely,
The Off Parent
< back to On Dating Again index
Resources:
- The Divorce Library (reading list)
- Songs of Divorce (free listening library – youtube sourced songs)
- Laugh It Off (building a resource library of funny videos and other diversions)
- Facebook (follow us on Facebook and keep up with all the conversations)
- The 5 Love Languages (a book on love styles by Gary Chapman)
The Drama of Divorce and Money: The Deadbeat Dad Myth
I’ve got my largest two-week consulting check coming in, ever. Problem is, it should’ve arrived on Saturday. AND my car stopped running properly on Saturday. AND my ex-y asked for “timing” advice last night. And my client said, “We will get it in the mail this week, sorry we were on Spring Break.”
There is no doubt that cash flow problems hit us all. And I will also admit that I am not very good at mapping bills and expenses to income, especially when things get tight. And sometimes they get so tight…
So the drama between the ex-y and I continues. Except for the drama on her side is really for show, for frustration, for antagonism. No, I take that back. She’s not even interested in upsetting me. She would get no benefit from that. But she is not required to take my situation into consideration, nor does she. I’d use the word narcistic if it weren’t a bad word. Self-centered would probably fit more appropriately.
The part I don’t get, when her wants and desires become the priority in her life, over, let’s say, our kids lives. Let me give a few examples.
Within a month of our divorce being finalized, she was sleeping with a plumber who’d worked on her house. Not that there’s anything wrong with plumbers, but this one had rebound, revenge, self-centered written all over it. A friend told me about it. I was furious. Oops, my bad. I was supposed to be detaching. And of course she had tightened down her chastity belt so tight, I guess her sexual needs could not be contained. All I can say about the plumber was, thank goodness we’d put a 6-month chill clause in our divorce decree before either of us could introduce a significant other to the kids. I asked her, “What example is he going to set for our kids?” Again, nothing against plumbers, but as the next pseudo-father of my kids, I was aiming a little higher. I understand it’s not my decision, but I have some hopes that he will be a creatively intellectual individual that my kids will admire and aspire to be more like. Again, I never met the man with the dragon tattoo. He may very well have been the Michael Angelo of plumbing.
Another misqueue in my opinion (a problem with that right there, I really don’t have a right to an opinion) was all the times I’d check-in with my kids on a weekend and they’d have a babysitter. Again, I don’t even pretend to imagine the different experience of the world and making a living, between men and women, but it certainly wasn’t sexual companionship she was looking for. She was in the immediate hunt for my replacement as a provider. She was panicked about being alone. (Part of the reason I didn’t want the house, too many ghosts around if the kids weren’t there.) But deeper, I’m guessing, was her fear of not being able to make it alone.
Again, I am speaking about something I know nothing about. I know about money woes. I know about companionship. But I also know that MY healing comes from time alone, feeling the feelings, and working things out. First with myself. Then with another person. She was aggressively trying to fill my spot before she really had to do the work of understanding why it was empty.
So I paid a few weeks late on last months child support, and she made a big deal about how much she needs the money, how dependent she is on my support checks. But it’s bullshit. It’s the clear and present danger in HER mind, but she’s only thinking about herself.
Let’s see: 1. she’s got a house that is worth at least 100k more than her mortgage; 2. she’s got over 25k in retirement accounts; 3. she’s got me paying almost all of her mortgage every month. Where is the money crisis in that?
I think of Bill Hader’s drama-queen character. The kids and I watched a couple SNL skits last night before bed. And in this one, Hader played a fireman who was still not over a relationship that had ended over nine years ago. He simply screamed. And screamed. And screamed.
It was a fitting metaphor for my ex-y’s behavior.
1. She knew I was struggling to get last month’s payment to her; 2. She’s working on her own budget for the week/month/year; 3. Like a bill collector, she’s asking when is she getting the next payment and “how can we set this up so it doesn’t affect me and the kids each month?”
Good question, that last one. I’m thinking this is the answer: “Get the fk off my ass for $1600. You are NOT in crisis. You are connecting your emotional vulnerability to the payments from me. They are NOT the same thing. You have plenty of money. I am paying as best I can. Saying “thank you so much” and the bringing the enforcer ask right after is not caring, it’s manipulative. Unfortunately, it’s also transparent.
I won’t answer her with this vitriol. It would do no good.
So as I do with the mortgage demands that start coming in the day after the payment is due, I ignore them. She is a detail and a bill collector. She does not have feelings, nor should she need to, about me and my money. It’s just business.
And fk that. I’m a person. I’m also worthy of respect. And before you hammer me about “when is the next check coming in?” please check your balance sheet and know that YOU ARE OKAY. You’re security and joy does not depend on my money. Never did. And I will support you as long as the law demands it and the kids are in school. I am 100% committed to that.
Let’s not forget that she started threatening to turn the process over to the Texas Attorney General’s office and Child Support Division a few months ago. She’s just working to get me with the program. Not a very compassionate approach, but I’m not part of her drama unless she can make me part of it.
But this week, when the check comes in. I’m going to pay last months mortgage payment. And a few other bills that have significant weight. Yours no longer carries that priority. And your drama-infused demands no longer have the power to affect me. (To be honest, they still can rile me up. This post is an example.) I will pay you, as I have for 2.5 years. We’ve got approximately 8 to go. And if you continue to scream “oh my god” in your emails to me, I’ll just start putting you in the spam folder with Wells Fargo. They are going to get their money too. Everybody is going to get their money.
Now we need to relax and pay attention to the things that are more important than paying bills or finding a boyfriend/girlfriend. It’s time to wake the kids over here and get them ready for school. And that’s an activity worth my priority and attention. Your self-imagined money crisis is not.
Sincerely,
The Off Parent
Resources:
- The Divorce Library (reading list)
- Songs of Divorce (free listening library – youtube sourced songs)
- Laugh It Off (building a resource library of funny videos and other diversions)
- Facebook (follow us on Facebook and keep up with all the conversations)
- The 5 Love Languages (a book on love styles by Gary Chapman)
Reference:
Flight 7, Bound for Destinations Unknown, Grounded
I guess it’s easy to be hopeful. It’s easy to look at an online dating profile and accept an introduction from a woman and not look very closely at her. I mean, look at her, to see her.
Tonight, for some lonely reason, the only excuse I can figure out, I met a “drive-by” at a nearby wine bar. I was sadly disappointed when I noticed her from 30 feet away. I guess you could say the chemistry was off from a mile away.
Well, then I get back home and I open Match.com and try to compare notes, and there it is, right there. Easy to see. If I’d been paying attention. Picture #1 was a clue. Picture #3, a wtf was I thinking?
So my favorite flight of wine, the #7, and $50 bucks later, I’m no worse for wear. Get this, we didn’t even finish the wine. I guess even she felt it, what was the point. The energy miss-match was epic.
My call to action was not strong enough, I guess. This woman was no badass. She was a… Okay, I was about to get snarky, and that’s not the point. This date was about me. Something I was looking for. And then some pattern in me that allowed me to gloss over the obvious signs in her profile in hopes of … What? Seriously? No.
Okay, so if I knew from the start it was a non-starter, why did I ask her out?
Clear the palette from yesterday? Make myself feel like the process was still ongoing and hopeful?
I’m not sure. I had plans to go see a musician I know and love. Alone. No problem. But this woman contacted me. She whispered the magic phrase, “English major,” and boom my fantastical mind was off and running. AND cluelessly blinded. Not one thing she said after that was witty, or creative. Not one thing said BADASS other than the fact that she picked me, and she was not hideous. [With one beautiful exception, all of the women who have reached out to me from online dating sites have been more mature. As in, they looked a lot older than me.]
Well, I wonder what the experience is on the other side of the fence for women my age. Are the men in my category mostly rich and dark and thin? Or pale, pudgy and uncreative?
Two learnings. 1. Watch “why” you are going out. If it is not an exceptional opportunity, it’s something else. A WASTE OF TIME. 2. Even on a crappy date, I get 50% of the benefit in food and drink. So my $50 wasn’t wasted, it was just not as beneficial as it could’ve been.
What would I have spent that money on had I not gone on flight 7? What energy would be present had I gone to see the live music, ALONE, rather than venturing on this “date?”
Easy enough. I am also gentle with myself and my silly choices.
I am learning. I do not know what this season of my life looks like, I am discovering it.
Sincerely,
The Off Parent
< back to On Dating Again index
Resources:
- The Divorce Library (reading list)
- Songs of Divorce (free listening library – youtube sourced songs)
- Laugh It Off (building a resource library of funny videos and other diversions)
- Facebook (follow us on Facebook and keep up with all the conversations)
- The 5 Love Languages (a book on love styles by Gary Chapman)
Trying to Talk About Sex with My Wife: Texting In Bed
“I’m having sex, 90% of the time alone.”
This conversation happened in bed in the form of a poem we wrote back and forth between us. Texting appeared easier than talking sometimes. She seemed to need time to consider and formulate her responses. I was in a sexually starved marriage. She had other problems. Sex was not one of her issues. Once a month, if at all, was okay with her. It was MY issue, obviously. There were other enlightening moments, but it was clearly a core problem in our marriage. When one partner begins freezing out the other one, sexually, there is a disconnect. Intimacy is a basic need. When the sex dies, in my opinion, the relationship is close behind.
+++ texting – unedited +++
i’m having sex, 90% of the time alone
so financial crisis moments appear and go away
and I too feel fatigue when my trustworthiness is raised again and again
not a crisis
more of a chronic situation of the relationship
weariness of wanting to go into it
now you have to put some stuff in.
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also weary of the dialogue around sex – frequency
my time is so spoken for
i don’t see that changing
if we could actually put every moment spent on considering the vectors of the situation of not that much (together) sex
in to crafting a situation where it could happen
we would create actual sexual encounters.
i get weary of focus on my not meeting your needs for sex
pretty much feel like your framing of the issue is you want more sex
so what can we do to get me available for more sex
and that this framing is in your mind
not expressed so much by action
In my (quite open to possibility of distortion on my part) world, I am a)working, b)sleeping, c)doing a mission-critical thing for kids, d) doing some other mission-critical thing (house, etc). Not really spending any bandwidth researching the dynamics of things you are doing or not doing that don’t meet my needs. I do speak up with clear asks, but that’s all I can muster.
so it is frustrating and feels weird that you have this thing going on where I continue not to meet your needs
at the same time I have no bandwidth left to meet any other needs period.
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so do YOU have sexual desire?
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yes.
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and are you happy with your sex life?
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in the context of reality – other real, now dynamics of time etc – sure
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then we have a mismatch in desire, wouldn’t you say?
And that is a critical path issue for me. As much as money or housekeeping or kidkeeping is for the WE.
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Yes. It is a critical path issue for you to __________________?
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Discuss with you what’s missing. What’s wrong with this situation. Evaluate what’s going on. Is it desire? Trust? Money? Work? Housekeeping?
My TXT last Sunday saying, “I’m thinking about masterbating… but I’d rather have sex with you was a good opening.” and we were successful in connecting.
We need more casual wins.
What I am curious about is… how things have changed for you from what I imagine our SEX life was like 3 years ago.
I do not buy the house, work, sleepy idea. Something else perhaps?
What has changed for me is… The “connection” that you were speaking about say 2 months ago
to me the miss or lack is due to lack of contact and intimacy.
Sex doesn’t seem to be a part of that equation for you. Now, of course I am telling you it is. (grin)
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Definitely it is a critical path issue for both of us, because you are materially unhappy (altho not in a crisis way) with the frequency and ____________ (connection?) of our sex (intimate?) life and therefore it makes the WE.
The txt was notable to me. so direct.
The not buying about sleepy and house…it’s like the conversation we had where you were asking me: what do you need? And I told you. “To see the numbers.” and that that was really what I needed was so out of range of believeable to you – you didn’t buy it – that it never occured to you to do the numbers, or engage with me to say OK, lets do the numbers now.
But it was true. I needed to see the numbers. YOU never actually need to see the numbers for that particular kind of situation. But I do.
So you ask what would help….per sex….and I nearly always come around to: house (a visually peaceful – that sensuality for me), sleep or workout (that’s body – a key to my sensuality). But you CANT BUY it. Because it’s not your experience of the world, I guess.
I’m empathetic with NOT BUYING another person’s experience. Certainly I miss on this more than rarely.
On the mismatch of desire. Maybe we have a mismatch in the desire for genital rubbing and intercourse v other sensuality. I feel like I live in a world of visual sensuality, and touch, and working out – exertion, and some kinds of foods – beautiful, fresh foods. And then there is sex, like, in bed sex.
And ? for you the sensuality of life stacks up differently. Sex straight UP gets more brain cells – loving the clean curves and surfaces gets fewer. Fresh pinapple, not so much. Ice cream – a lot!!
More pragmatically, there is a cycle we are in that at least does not help. I can’t sleep next to you. When we are spooned, the snoring is so loud – some just because of what spooning does, put your mouth in my ear, I wake up. Then, if I am awake, I have to go to another room. This was not the case 3 years ago.
I don’t have a point of entry in to that situation. Not sure.
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You have not told me recently about the snoring and that is the reason you are leaving the bedroom so frequently. I am always happy to apply a breathrite strip. They seem to help. And I need to lose weight. I am actively working on that.
Back a the discussion about what you needed, it was not that I didn’t buy your experience. In fact, we agreed that restarting money discussions was probably critical path.
We didn’t DO the financial plans again until we were reminded by our counselor of the critical WE in everything.
+++ end of texting +++
I used to say “It wasn’t my idea,” about the divorce. And in my divorce recovery group, I was definitely self-identified as the dumpee. But what was different is I was beginning to express my dissatisfaction with the status quo. Her money-house-tired story had reached the end of my accepting it. I was tired of having sex alone 90% of the time. I was demanding we talk about it.
What didn’t know was she was already in the process of figuring out her options. Probably, in terms of her critical path issues, house and money she was beginning the process of trying to figure out what she would get if she decided to go for a divorce.
When she admitted in therapy that she had already consulted with a lawyer, I was stunned. “Well,” I said. “I guess you are a lot further down the road than I am about this.” And she got motivated to find full-time work and basically created a job within a few months. And then, I suppose she saw the potential for escape from her private hell.
I remember saying to her, once the “divorce” was agreed to, “So you think it’s me that’s making you so mad all the time? And you think I’m going to walk out that door and you are somehow going to transform into a happy person? Wow. I think you are wrong.”
The WE is the construct and loving connection of the relationship. What we learned from our time in couples therapy: everything we do together, every commitment we make and break, every communication we share, is part of the WE. As our WE collapsed under the isolation and frustration that was occurring between us, my then-wife simply got mad and stayed mad. She didn’t want to be intimate. She was mad. She woke up mad. She stayed mad all day.
Today, nine years later, she’s still more like a hornet than a rational human being when dealing with me.
Sincerely,
The Off Parent
Resources:
- The Divorce Library (reading list)
- Songs of Divorce (free listening library – youtube sourced songs)
- Laugh It Off (building a resource library of funny videos and other diversions)
- Facebook (follow us on Facebook and keep up with all the conversations)
- The 5 Love Languages (a book on love styles by Gary Chapman)
Alone is Different Than Aloneliness After Divorce
There are hundreds of times during the day that I miss my kids. (The ex, not so much.) And on the days when they are not coming home to MY HOUSE, well… I can choose to be sad about those days, or…
Alone I have all options open to me. My time is my own. While I still have to make money (and now, supporting two households, it’s even more than it was when I was still married) the time back, the time I would never have been able to negotiate during my marriage, is a great thing. When I’m up, that is.
When I’m down, all time away from my kids is sad time. However, I understand that a whole bunch of that is MY SADNESS, and probably has very little to do with my kids or my divorce.
When I’m DOWN, alone-ness is hard. The things I try to remember are:
- It ends, I will feel better
- If I can exercise, even walking around the block, it is better than moping
- Eating is essential, and eating better is even more critical when you are self-medicating
- I’m better off not sharing this deep and existential pain with my kids (they will have plenty of time to learn about it for themselves, and they can read my writing about it, LATER.)
- Getting enough sleep is essential
- Laughing (movies, games, social media) is good medicine for the mind
- Waking up at your normal time (not sleeping in unless you are sick) and shaving and taking a shower is good for your body and mind
When I’m UP, well, there’s no lack of projects and activities that I want to get to. I do have to reign in a few things in my UP mode as well.
- Getting enough sleep is essential (staying up one night in an inspirational fit is okay, two nights is a problem)
- I still have to do my WORK and pay my BILLS (those things often bring me out of my dream-like creative state, but they must be done)
- I have to prioritize my time (all play and no work, all fresh air and growth work without any billable hours will get me into trouble pretty quickly)
So today, Sunday, I am still balancing the creative big ideas and the need to get a few hours of work done before Monday morning. And that new guitar sitting over there looking quite pretty and seductive, will have to wait until I get my Dec. hours billed.
I’m alone, but not lonely. And I’m grateful for that. And that I know the difference has had a huge impact on my approach to the feelings of Alone-ness vs. Aloneliness.
Sincerely,
The Off Parent
< back to The Hard Stuff pages
related posts:
- Losing Touch In the Off Times
- Check Engine Light: How Long Until Repairs Are Forced By a Breakdown?
- How Much Longer Until I Feel Better? (Post-divorce Depression)
- Followed by the Black Dog (of depression)
resources:
- The Divorce Library (reading list)
- Songs of Divorce (free listening library – youtube sourced songs)
- Laugh It Off (building a resource library of funny videos and other diversions)
- Facebook (follow us on Facebook and keep up with all the conversations)
- The 5 Love Languages (a book on love styles by Gary Chapman)
image: loneliness, ktoine, creative commons usage
Sex in the Marriage: Condition Grounded But Determined to Try
I am guessing this is going to sound cliché. But clichés are there because they are based on repeatedly being shown as truths. What do you think about this statement?
After the heat wore off. After the kids were born. After the work of keeping up a house and mortgage payment became real. Sex became more and more infrequent.
We went through some interesting therapy sessions and ideas about how to reconnect sexually.
- I wasn’t asking the right way
- I was asking too much
- I always asked at the wrong time
- There was always something that needed to be done, before we could have sex
- I didn’t help around the house enough
- I needed to try seducing rather than asking, touch rather than request
Ultimately, once the sexual shift had happened there was only one period of relief.
I had just gotten a vasectomy. (A good sign, anyway, that we were doing it at all, so we would even want to keep having sex. It was kind of a right of passage from fathering to fucking.
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She was already contemplating her departure, and those thoughts were crowding out the passion and love for me.
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And the weeks following the surgery, after the swelling and pain had gone away, we had a sexual renaissance. You see, when you have a vaz there is a period afterwards where you are required to have 30 ejaculations before you can get tested for viable sperm. And if it’s all clear after that, you can begin nekkid sex without risk.
The ex-y even admitted to having an achievement complex, and we joked about her wanting the 30 gold stars in 45 days. And sure enough, the wind would blow and she was into getting me off. Perhaps it relieved the pressure on her to participate if it was about my orgasm and not making love.
We did it in the shower. She did me orally, manually, and seemingly with ease and enjoyment. Later we would look back on these weeks as “when it was good again.” At least, that’s what I remember saying about it. I certainly see it as the last hurrah of our marriage.
And then the goal was achieved. I was certified sperm free. And the sexual fire fizzled and went out. Almost as if a switch had been thrown. I couldn’t ask right, or provide enough house support (me or a maid) or money in the bank. There was ALWAYS something preventing us from doing it. I wanted to figure out how to have another vasectomy, or something. But nothing I tried worked.
Then, right at the end, when I had my moment of truth, I asked her. Well, it came out kind of sideways. I had bought a book “Your Sex-Starved Marriage” and she found it under the bed. It was as if she had found porn or something. She was angry. Of course I was accusing her of being the problem, that’s why I got the book. But she had plenty of ammo as to why it wasn’t all her.
She blamed it on stress, overwork, chores, things. But in reality she was no longer IN the marriage with me. She was already contemplating her departure, and those thoughts were crowding out the passion and love for me. Rather than demand closeness and touch, I withdrew into my own self-care miasma. But I sublimated my anger and desire. I compromised and let her slip further away from me. She was too far gone. And when I was finally angry it was a bit too late.
How does that phrase go? “You cannot prepare for love and war at the same time.”
Sincerely,
The Off Parent
@theoffparent
related posts:
- Good Sex: Getting It Together About Getting In On
- Losing Everything in Divorce; Learning to Carry On
- Sex is Fun: Should You Settle for Apathetic Sex?
- Zen and the Art of Lovemaking – Won’t Save Your Marriage
resources:
- The Divorce Library (reading list)
- Songs of Divorce (free listening library – youtube sourced songs)
- Laugh It Off (building a resource library of funny videos and other diversions)
- Facebook (follow us on Facebook and keep up with all the conversations)
- The 5 Love Languages (a book on love styles by Gary Chapman)
image: creative commons usage: nude and captured
Kiss Kiss Bang Bang: Waking Up My Passionate Lover
Okay, I have to use the word “girlfriend” at this point. It’s been well over 90 days, and she’s still around and still at the center of my off parent time. And… Well… It’s kind of hard to say, “I have no idea what I’m doing.”
What I know is… She is my first relationship post divorce. Those other things were blips.
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When she woke up my desire I screwed her like I really remembered screwing. Passion. Energy. And stamina.
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She matches me in so many ways (love of music, sleeping patterns, creative ambition, ability to nap and rest rather than strive) that I think I’m trying to figure out what’s wrong.
Here’s what happened. She came right out and said it on our introductory drink. “You are much cuter than your profile!”
I’m sure I paused at that. [Was this woman just forward? Was she a desperate? What was wrong with her, couldn’t she see how fucked up I was at that very moment?]
And I walked her out to her car. An awkward moment, to be sure. And there, next to her cute convertible mini, she leaned in for what could only be a signal for “kiss me.” And I stepped up to the plate and planted a good kiss on her. Grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her even closer. Even as I was freaking out, “What the fuck? Am I insane? Oh to hell with it!”
And I walked back to my car, in a bit of a daze. Erect and ready, sure, but also confused.
And then on came the relationship. She was “into me” she said it frequently and without shame. I know she was asking for the same response from me. But I was too busy trying to examine my own WTF response to her mere presence in my life.
So on she came. Like a force, like a drug. And on she came, asking deep questions, stroking me with every opportunity, and singing my praises.
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I know the ADORE has to go both ways. Is that what’s growing within me? Am I growing to adore her, or just getting more comfortable in the relationship?
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At the same time I was a little off balance, she was the definition of what I was asking for just a few months ago. (Yoga Girl Next Door)
A few nights ago, returning from a trip, I was bushed and just wanted to sleep. She wanted satisfaction. She missed me. She hungered for me. When she woke up my desire I screwed her like I really remembered screwing. Passion. Energy. And stamina.
The headboard of her bed banging against the wall.
And for the last few days, I’ve been the On Parent again, and my stomach muscles have been telling me, cheering me, about my prowess. Damn!
So am I jumping into the next phase because of the extraordinary stress in my family situation right now? Am I stealing the bootie by sexing and caressing and sleeping with someone who… how can I say it… who is not my erotic ideal? And really, what does that mean?
The only thing I can grasp on to: This is still an early relationship. There is no need to jump further into things. We are three months into things. I don’t have to marry her and settle down next week. So I am observing, with curiosity, my attraction to other women. Sure: younger, skinnier, darker hair, darker skin. But those physical things are NOTHING compared to the ADORATION.
I know the ADORE has to go both ways. Is that what’s growing within me? Am I growing to adore her, or just getting more comfortable in the relationship? I know there is tension in the place where she is CRUSHING and I am not. But that should not be a problem if we stay open and honest.
That’s the trick. That will be the trick. I meet an attractive ideal, and I want to… what? Kiss? Date? Go to lunch? At what point do I have to tell her, “I’m still kinda looking.” A sad moment that will be.
Until that point, or the point at which I succumb to her charms and beauty, I will be aware of what is going on inside of me, and try to sort out what is real and what is fantasy. She is certainly REAL. She is certainly WARM and TOUCHY-FEELY.
And I could go on about her great qualities. Solid. Financially stable. Beautiful eyes.
I sound like I’m still trying to convince myself.
Sincerely,
The Off Parent
< back to On Dating Again index
Related Posts:
Like Father Like Brother Like Son
I’m in paradise. I’m in the hospital. My brother, like my father before him, is awaiting open-heart surgery. And I look at my brother, and I look down at my own girth, and I’m committed to doing even more on my healthy living path.
My father had his first heart attack when I was about 10. He was playing in the finals of a tennis tournament. I wish I could remember what my dad was like on the tennis court. Though it became my favorite sport, I’m pretty sure we never played.
It was a typical hot Texas weekend and my dad had just split sets in the singles final. In the 5 minute break he had reclined in the shade with a huge glass of iced tea. He never got back up. The ambulance came quickly and screamed off to the hospital with him. I was left with HER. My drinking, smoking, step-mother.
My dad faced a choice soon after that moment: change your life, for the better, or deteriorate into a series of health catastrophes until your untimely death.
Somehow! Even with four loving kids. My dad did not rectify his life. He died at 53. His widow followed soon after. Young and pickled from their love of alcohol.
It’s an odd thing when you are facing death. Mine came in the form of suicidal ideation. (A gentler way of saying, thinking about killing yourself, but stoping short of making plans to kill yourself.)
There I was, a wreckage of post-divorce sadness and self-pity. And my silly, wounded mind kept imagining my fall from a famous bridge, or calculating how many Ambien it would take to make the euphoria just take me away.
EACH TIME I came back to the impact it would have on my KIDS. While I wasn’t pulling through FOR them, I was certainly not going to intentionally devastate them with my self-inflicted demise.
So how did my Dad make the choice to turn away from us, me (his adoring mini-me) and my brother and two sisters? My rationalization goes to his alcoholism and the complete lack of clear thinking possible under his Cutty Sark dementia.
Still, it is not enough. Something deeper drove my dad to his death-wish demise. Some wounding, some battle-royale with his mom or dad… Some overwhelming sadness that fed his helpless withdrawal from being my dad.
And now, staring across the darkened hospital room at my obese brother, I am praying rather than rooting for him. At a point there are the larger things in life that drive us onward. For me, in those dark dark dark times it was my kids that held me to the mast.
My brother is 5 years older than my father when he died of his heart failure and cancer. When I look at his buddha-like figure I recognize too much of my own pain. I have kids to guide and encourage my future efforts at remaining healthy and alive. I wonder at my father’s lack of perseverance at getting well, after his FIRST heart attack. And I am prayerful about my brother’s condition. He is alone, without kids or current relationship. He has us. My mom, my sister and me. What will be HIS core strength?
I see my father in my brother’s condition. And I see too much of my brother’s tragic sadness in myself to ignore the resonance. I sit in the dark and listen to his labored snoring. I think about his easy laugh and willingness to make other’s happy at his own expense.
There is nothing easy about today. I am happy in my life. I bring that joy to others. Beyond that there is prayer.
We Skyped my kids last night from the hospital. They danced and entertained us for 1o minutes. It was a bizarre-futuristic movie scene. There was joy and poignant sadness at what was missing from my brother’s life. At least he has us.
Sincerely,
The Off Parent
Since My Last Confession
It’s been awhile. Um, and I’d like to tell you it’s been pleasant, or productive. It has had moments, but mostly I fell off a cliff.
I’m not sure exactly what kicked in to release the flood of … Depression, Fear, Lonliness… I put them all with capital letters, because it has been a bear crawling back out of the abyss. I fully expected, as I closed my last post, to pick things up and stick with the honest revelations. And… NOT. My creative flow doesn’t work that way. And I simply shut it all down.
In some ways I was crashing back into my divorce again. The rage that I have expressed here, turning into feelings of shame and regret. Why would I vent so furiously? I must’ve been nuts putting this much emotion and pain out there. How embarassing.
And what now, has changed my mind? What elements of life have brought me back to life? There is so much to tell.
Let’s start about the time the wheels fell off. I was struggling to finish my last post here (Loneliness. Fessing Up When Things Hurt for No Apparent Reason) and was fairly self-aware of what was happening, and still unable to avert the plummet. It wasn’t one thing that was freaking me out, it was several.
The biggest fear-factor for me was money. What I thought I had a month before had failed to materialize. And I went from self-confident (and perhaps arrogant) to despondent and lost. When the ability to pay your credit cards begins to fall off the map, things get a bit stressful. And they had been falling off for months. The prospect of work was keeping me afloat. And as the client continued to stall, my grip on the positive side of EVERYTHING began to loosen.
It wasn’t a dramatic pop, more of a sigh, as I let go of the cliff of Mazlow’s hierarchy and slipped back into the base plan of survival. Trips to pick up the kids at my former house became harder. My longing for a woman who did not love me back, continued to fester, even in the contradiction of my own awareness and good counseling. And my desperation about my own situation, probably emotional more than financial, began to turn bleak indeed.
I laughed at my unrational mind as I walked through our up-scale grocery store. On one side of the unattainable relationship model, was the yoga-fresh women in their mid-morning workout stride, flashing teeth, thin and evolved athletic legs, and lulu lemon outfits that cost more than my car payment. And on the other side was the obese cleaning lady standing in the customer service line. Neither extreme seemed attainable. And thus I felt hopeless in my contemplations of how I would EVER find a woman, another woman, to be with. I wanted to crawl back into what I knew before. To collapse in the sturdiness of my ex-y, irregardless of the cost.
So I was out of my mind.
And I could not seem to put any of the puzzle pieces of my life back together again. So I did what I do. I isolated. I shut down. I became very quiet. But I was hoping to be found and rescued. I knew that. I was nose diving into “fuck you” while hoping for a hand to reach out and scoop me up. I was emotionally about five years old.
Sincerely,
The Off Parent
< back to The Hard Stuff pages
Resources:
- The Divorce Library (reading list)
- Songs of Divorce (free listening library – youtube sourced songs)
- Laugh It Off (building a resource library of funny videos and other diversions)
- Facebook (follow us on Facebook and keep up with all the conversations)
- The 5 Love Languages (a book on love styles by Gary Chapman)
How Much Longer Until I Feel Better? (Post-divorce Depression)
One a day, or one day at a time, is the only way to think about recovery from divorce. Recently a trusted friend said that we DO need to take vitamins, that there were some key elements (in the general population’s diet) we were just not getting from our diet any more. And while I’m certain she was thinking of something more holistic than one-a-days, the price and convenience was right.
Each day, I dutifully swallow these little green happy pills. And I can’t help but wonder, “When are these new minerals and vitamins going to kick in? When will I feel better?” (Of course, if you need real happy pills be sure and talk to your doctor.)
There is no map out of this land of confusion. You press on, day after day, because you must, because there are people [kids in my case] counting on you.
There are going to be good days and bad days. And even when you feel completely free of the influence of your ex-y, something will happen, a trigger, a song, a restaurant, a movie, that will trigger you feelings of longing and loss again. It’s okay, it’s good to feel into those deep feelings in the moment, and then move on past them.
For me, the routine is the thing. I’m usually up by 6:00 am when I do my creative writing. (I developed this habit when I needed time to write and I would wake up before the entire house to get an hour in before I needed to wake everyone else up. It was always a little like being Santa Claus. Every one was soundly dreaming away an I was up making coffee and lunches and sitting in my comfy chair and writing. It was a golden moment.
And I enjoyed the routine of getting the kids out the door every day, for school. I was the breakfast dad. And I’m sure, from what my kids tell me, things are a bit different at the old house now. My son told me he shared with my ex-y about how I get them up in plenty of time to listen to some music and roll around in bed before having to get dressed. There’s always music in my house.
I do have to get the work done, so I can keep the house, and keep making child support payments, and eventually catch up on my taxes and credit cards.
So now there are 4 or 5 days in a row when I don’t have them to wake up, when they are with their mom. I still get up at 6 and write. And even by myself, even on weekends, I love this time alone. And I think this blog, this writing about it, has brought me up and out of any lingering sadness completely. Not so sure about the One-a-Day vitamins. I think my friend was imagining a more holistic vitamin. (grin)
So I’m up and at it early every day. And not that it’s getting really damn hot during the day, I try and get my walk in before 10 am as well. There is no question that the walking has helped a lot. Not with my buddha belly (yet) but certainly with the energy and confidence that comes from “doing what’s good for you.”
And today, just for a moment, speaking to my son on the phone, I wanted to be with him rather than where I was. I could’ve changed my day and done something else with him, but instead I stuck with the plan. I do have to get the work done, so I can keep the house, and keep making child support payments, and eventually catch up on my taxes and credit cards. Onward we go.
And walking down the road or trail with my iPod blasting, I can imagine that I will come through all of this in a better place. (Hey, maybe that One-a-Day is working.)
Sincerely,
The Off Parent
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see also the depression tagged posts
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Nobody Is Going to Hold Your Dream for You
So when did we start making love to abs? I’m kinda sick of it. I mean, don’t get me wrong, a sculpted body is nice, and obvious results from a hell of a lot of work… But…
I’ve seen my abs once in my life. I was a sophomore in high school, I was on the swim team and we were swimming twice a day, lifting weights, and eating well. It was all so planned and supported. And I had swimming teammates, and perhaps a romantic interest in more than one of the women on the swim team. It’s kind of what you do up East in the Winter. Swim, Basketball, or Ice Hockey. I swam.
Once in my life I had the abs we so aspire to. But is it like pornography, the uber-fit woman or man? Sure we glamorize the human body. And the magazines are filled with 20 – 30 year olds who have spent a good bit of their free time working on their abs. I can’t think of anything quite so boring.
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I’m afraid the effort it takes to maintain that form would completely outweigh the potential time with me, or time fulfilling other parts of what’s important in a life.
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I wasn’t one to spend time in a gym. I mean, running on a treadmill going nowhere. What do you do with that? Watch TV? No thanks. And something about being inside, always feels kind of like cheating. But, then again, I live in Texas, and it’s fuckin hot out there. So what’s the trade off?
I probably will not see my iron stomach again in this lifetime. I mean, it’s possible, but it’s not really a goal of mine. I can’t add up the number of hours it would take, doing stuff I don’t like doing, hate actually, over the next 6-months to a year. Um, yeah… Not going to happen.
That’s not to say I don’t have ideas of getting in better shape. I do. It’s just, the learnings I am getting along the journey back to fitness from depression, divorce, and isolation, are unbelievably valuable. It’s a process back to myself. Back to learning what I’m in it for, what I like doing, and what the time is worth that I could be spending “at the gym.”
I have plans. I am getting ready to work with a nutritionist to learn about things like gluten and carbs and my particular chemical make up. But I can tell you this, I have had love handles in some shape and form, since I was 2 years old. And that one brief period of my life, when I was 15, was the only time I’m going to have a GQ-cover-worth stomach.
So that’s not my goal. And while I would love to nuzzle up to the beautiful body above, I’m afraid the effort it takes to maintain that form would completely outweigh the potential time with me, or time fulfilling other parts of what’s important in a life.
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She once said to me, about her beauty, “It’s all I have.” She was depressed about her divorce and she drank alone on weekends when she didn’t have her kids.
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There’s a lot to be said for physical beauty. And there’s a lot more to be said for attitude, life approach, centeredness, and warmth. (see Enlightenment post) And when I find the next woman, I hope she has a slim figure, it’s what I’m trained to be drawn towards. [It probably has more to do with my older sister’s ghost than any media driven ideal.] But that’s not the first thing I’m looking for or at.
So here’s the concept: No one is going to hold your dream for you. The woman who I met a few weeks ago, who felt like a first possible “match” was not impressed by something. And she couldn’t possibly see the me I am aiming for. And could I actually expect her to understand my self-improvement plan? No, of course, she sees what she sees.
And the lesson here is, SO DO I. I see myself, and if I compare my stomach to my 15-year-old stomach, I might get depressed. But it’s not about my stomach flatness. That might be something that she is interested in. And it might be something that I marginally aspire towards, but it’s nothing like the athletic-gym-addict stomach above.
I recently met, and hung out with a woman who resembles the picture above. She was funny, cute, spunky, and obviously obsessed with her image. She once said to me, about her beauty, “It’s all I have.” She was depressed about her divorce and she drank alone on weekends when she didn’t have her kids. [The definition of tragedy.]
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We can’t set anyone else’s priorities or reprogram their dreams. The near match woman was as close as I’ve come to someone who seemed balanced.
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But she didn’t have time for me. I wasn’t stalking her or anything. We went out dancing one of those vodka nights. And we had a blast. And I was only able to wrestle one more meeting out of her, over coffee where she fiddled with her iPad the entire time.
Her email later said it all. “We can have fun. I just have to get some more of my life back together first.”
A few months later I saw her running on the trail around the lake. There was a moment of recognition and she ducked her head and ran on past. Yes, fine, I didn’t want to interrupt her run.
Later I pinged her via email. “Did I see you this afternoon on the trail?”
“Yes, that’s about all I have time for, being a single parent and all. Work, working out, and taking care of my kids.”
“Okay, well, you looked good. Hope you are well. Cheers.”
That’s what we’re all doing. Setting priorities between work, self, kids, relationships, spiritual practice. There’s only so many hours, and of course, you are what you pay attention to.
So I’m happy with a flat and fit stomach on others. And I do want to get mine in better proportion to how I would like to look. But if I start aspiring towards my old 16-year-old body, I can lose sight of my own priorities.
We can’t set anyone else’s priorities or reprogram their dreams. The near match woman was as close as I’ve come to someone who seemed balanced. And if I’d been more balanced, maybe she’d have seen the same spark I saw. But, of course, she could not hold the idea of who I was becoming, or where I was going. How could she? There’s no one who is going to hold your dream for you.
No worries. Of course she is out there. And the me I want to be is too. Oh wait… The me I want to be is right here. I need to remember that.
It gets better.
Sincerely,
The Off Parent
@theoffparent
related posts:
- The Promise in a Thumbnail; Online Dating Hits and Misses
- The Honey Trap: How Beauty Can Lead Us Astray
- The Malleable Trajectory of Desire in Online Dating
- All Kinds of Women and the Sparks of Desire
- Fractured People: Learning About Boundaries in Dating After Divorce
resources:
- The Divorce Library (reading list)
- Songs of Divorce (free listening library – youtube sourced songs)
- Laugh It Off (building a resource library of funny videos and other diversions)
- Facebook (follow us on Facebook and keep up with all the conversations)
- The 5 Love Languages (a book on love styles by Gary Chapman)
A Moment of Enlightenment Has Arrived: The Path I’m Leaving Behind
I could hope for an Age of Enlightenment, but I’m being realistic.
I can comfortably say that I have passed through the Dark Ages, and I am somewhere in the Between Ages. But I have also reached a moment, this moment, where I can see certain things quite clearly. And while the path ahead is not clear, the mistakes of the ages behind has never been clearer.
The other day I was describing what I was seeking in my relationship.
“Someone who is warm and deep feeling.”
You see, I believe those are two of my strongest qualities. 1. Warmth: expresses joy and togetherness easily, often encourages and brings energy and happiness into a room when they arrive. 2. Deep Feeling: able to connect with the emotions that are often the cause of suffering, disappointment, and immense joy.
It is my understanding, at this moment, that deep feeling and warmth are the two qualities I have not held out for in my first attempts at marriage. There are a lot of traits to connect and disconnect with people on, and somehow my other “needs” or “connective traits” seemed more important at the time. Maybe I was lonely. Maybe I lost sight of what was possible. But somehow I settled on these two qualities in both my previous marriages.
While my most recent wife was beautiful, smart, devoted, and organized. The labels of “warmth” and “deep feeling” are probably not going to be generally applied to her personality. That’s okay. We are all different. And maybe what is warmth to me is something different to others. That’s all fine. But for me, even at the beginning, when we were courting madly, there was that spark of joy missing. The deep feeling seemed to arise when we were engaged in lovemaking and enjoying a glass of wine, but of course, you can’t always be fucking and drinking, there’s a lot more to life.
So outside of those kinds of extraordinary circumstances, what is the quality of the person you are looking to be with? When the tasks become more mundane, what is the timbre of the relationship?
So this momentary illumination of these two critical traits is important. I don’t have to try and convince myself that these two traits are more important than a flat stomach or an activated and creative imagination. Both of my wives had brilliant creative impulses, and both were beautiful to look at.
Online dating is an opportunity to refine your perspective. In many ways, building a profile on an online dating site is like setting intentions.
1. We have to say who we are: Here is what I want you to know about me. Here is how I present myself in my best light. Here is a picture that I think does make me look cuter than others.
2. We have to begin the process of identifying who we want to be with next: Initially, it’s a bit like browsing for a house online, you are looking for the initial curb appeal. Again, these photos are some of the best this woman could find to represent who she wants you to see. Photos lie.
As we travel through this process, appraising, arranging, asking, flirting, explaining… we get a chance to refine our pitch and our wishlist. And once we get clarity on those non-negotiable traits that we must have in our next relationship, the task is much easier. Or, at least, clearer.
Now I have it. At this very moment, I believe that everything comes after my two main criteria. Warmth and Deep Feeling. Of course, there has got to be the curb appeal or I won’t even have a chance to say hello. (this cuts both ways) And, I believe my “enlightenment” comes from the realization that other traits are important (1. intelligence, 2. outward beauty, 3. self-awareness/spirituality) but without warmth and the ability to express it at a deep level, well, without that we have the path I am leaving behind.
Sincerely,
The Off Parent
related posts:
- Burn the Maps!
- Little Turnoffs: On a First Date with a Woman
- Aqua y besos: How Do We Gain So Much Energy from Love?
- The Sensual and the Sexual
- What’s the Worst That Could Happen?
resources:
- The Divorce Library (reading list)
- Songs of Divorce (free listening library – youtube sourced songs)
- Laugh It Off (building a resource library of funny videos and other diversions)
- Facebook (follow us on Facebook and keep up with all the conversations)
- The 5 Love Languages (a book on love styles by Gary Chapman)
Recently Divorced, I Discover that Untethered Joy Is My Natural State
I have a joy about me that I will no longer contain. In the relationship with my ex, there was friction between her and my whimsical and joyous nature. In her universe, the cleanliness of the house could be more important than making love or playing with your children. Not in mine.
So maybe at 49, coming untethered from her two years ago, was the release I needed to transform — through the shit storm of depression and self-doubt and into something even more self-sustaining and full of smiles.
My kids wrote those little love notes to me several weeks ago and their messages still punctuate my every waking hour.
My 11-year-old son’s first line, “You are so happy.”
And my 9-year-old daughter’s poem”
“You are always so cheerful
You are fun
You are funny
You are very loving
You are smart
You are awesome
And I love you”
And looking ahead, in October and November the three of us enter our EVEN years, while their mom will become ODD in a few weeks. And maybe we were just out of sync the entire time.
In my new life, we laugh more than I remember laughing while married to my ex-y. A buoyancy has taken root in our lives during our time together. We sing we roll our eyes at each other, we laugh an awful lot, and our family unit has regained or re-embraced some of the uber-joy I try to create in my life. I think this joyous way is my gift to my children. There is plenty in life that will challenge, hurt, and reset your goals and expectations. But there is nothing quite as important as how you deal with those things.
I can do very little to influence or control my ex-y’s life way. I imagined at some point that my joyous perspective would rub off on her, that WE together would experience a joyous life. And perhaps somewhere along the way, she lost faith in the joy-focused path. She returned to what she knew: calculating, measuring, planning, organizing, and trying to fit emotional variations within the formula of an excel spreadsheet. And observing her father’s behavior and relationship with our kids, it is easy to see where she learned to calculate rather than celebrate.
The friction and the limiting tie-downs have been removed. We, my smaller family unit, is free to move about the universe with a joyous and playful belief in the world. And as my ex makes arrangements to introduce the kids to her new BF in the next few weeks [as early as the parenting contract will allow] I understand that the introduction is not for the kids, it is for and about her and her happiness.
My hope is that she has found someone who lifts her up out of the chores and Excel calculations enough to enjoy some of the fruits of her labor. My understanding is that internal joy and lightness comes from within and not from another. A relationship to another person can influence and join your “way of being” with another person, but it never merges or changes a person’s internal nature. My hope is that whoever he is [he who she started dating in January] that he brings a huge influence of lift and laughter into my kids’ lives. I think the seriousness of divorced time has passed.
And regardless of my ex and her boyfriend’s trajectory, I hope that I can provide the platform of happiness that my children will stand upon when they are facing tough times in their future. And that’s what I owe them. That’s what I owe myself.
You are so always so cheerful.
You are so happy.
I am untethered and full of joy. It is my gift to my children. And perhaps it is my influential effect on my next serious relationship. But the joyousness has to be found and established inside ourselves. There is no BF or GF that is going to make us more happy. We have to find that for ourselves. And honestly, I do not know if my ex is happy. I know that she was ever-more unhappy as time with me moved along. And she has been released back to her natural state.
And I suppose, so have I.
Sincerely,
The Off Parent
related posts:
- Waiting for the Other Person to Change – The Path Towards Divorce
- Divorce Recovery: Loving Yourself Better, So You Can Eventually Love Again
- Negativity and Isolation: Branching Out To Avoid Breaking Up
- The Evolving Single Dad: Failure to Hopefulness Again
resources:
- The Divorce Library (reading list)
- Songs of Divorce (free listening library – youtube sourced songs)
- Laugh It Off (building a resource library of funny videos and other diversions)
- Facebook (follow us on Facebook and keep up with all the conversations)
- The 5 Love Languages (a book on love styles by Gary Chapman)
Followed by the Black Dog (of depression)
He came out of nowhere with a grin and a wild look in his brown eyes. The black dog began following me this morning on my walk. It was as if he was lonely for someone to cruise around with, and he took my singing with the iPod as encouragement. And he was like a shadow.
So much of the time recovering from divorce is about recovering from depression. “Clinical” or “temporary,” depression is a bitch. It keeps you in bed when you should go to work. It makes you eat crap when you should really start watching what you eat even more carefully. And for me, the worst part, it makes ME isolate like a motherfucker. That’s the killer for me.
I’m not depressed at the moment. So I am able to see and respond to the black dog [sadness] with an open hand. My energy level is high, I’m walking, so that’s good, and the music is weaving its tentacles in my brain and I’m feeling quite buoyant at the moment. So where did the black dog come from?
One of the most pivotal moments in recovery is admitting to yourself that depression is a problem. For me, isolation is pretty deep on the list of symptoms. By the time I’m isolating and fucking up at work, the other mechanics of depression are in full bloom.
My check-ins look kind of like this:
- eating
- sleeping
- sexual desire (even masturbation can be a positive sign)
- laughing or playing
- calling people back
- spending time with friends
When any of these balance points gets way out of whack I’m heading towards a wrestling match with the black dog. The last real battle lasted 4 – 5 months and could’ve easily killed me.
So when the black dog of depression is showing itself, I try to take evasive action as soon as I can.
Evasive Actions:
- go for a walk
- play a game (online with others if I can’t be with real people)
- clean up my diet (it’s amazing what junk food and sugar highs can do to your overall life-performance)
- see if there’s anything pornographic that interests me (if I can get an erection, at least I know I’m alive, I have a desire)
- call one of my D-buddies (“Um, I’m just calling because I don’t want to call, and I don’t want to get together for lunch or anything.”)
- meet with my counselor or doctor (talky therapists are critical, and meds doctors are too, if you’ve ever had deep bouts of depression)
The most important thing for me is to stay out of the isolation chamber. That is where I slowly, patiently, kill myself.
So this morning, I’m not feeling much charge from the depressive side of my life at the moment, and the black dog is more of a friend and companion. He won’t come close enough for me to pet him, but he smiles at me just the same. He keeps his distance, I keep singing along to the music on my iPod, and we mosey on down the road together.
And then out of nowhere appears another set of black dogs. The twins from down the street. These guys I know.
For a minute I’m not sure if the black dog is going to gel or fight, but I keep walking, imagining they’re going to work it out between themselves.
I look back about 5 minutes later, to see if the black dog is still with me. The three dogs are doing some sort of ecstasy-daisy-chain-circle-dance, They are lost in their dog-ness.
I am happy the black dog has found better companions. I’m not afraid to befriend him. The converse is true. Depression is part of loss. And if you are FEELING the divorce, you will probably feel depressed.
For me, this blog became one of my re-stabilizing forces. I write to process. I write to learn and make sense of what is happening. The first time, when my ex-y asked me to take it down, I was depressed. What I realized only later, was that I was in the early stages of depression. By shutting down the expression of my anger, sadness, and loss; by killing this blog, the first time, I actually hastened my own slip further into darkness.
Today the black dog (of depression) is my friend. I will see him again from time to time. He will travel with me for a bit. And we will part ways when one of us has a more interesting opportunity.
Sincerely,
The Off Parent
< back to The Hard Stuff pages
related posts:
- Depression Is No Joke
- Losing Touch In the Off Times
- Check Engine Light: How Long Until Repairs Are Forced By a Breakdown?
- Gone. A Pause at Summer’s End.
- Alone is Different Than Aloneliness After Divorce
resources:
- The Divorce Library (reading list)
- Songs of Divorce (free listening library – youtube sourced songs)
- Laugh It Off (building a resource library of funny videos and other diversions)
- Facebook (follow us on Facebook and keep up with all the conversations)
- The 5 Love Languages (a book on love styles by Gary Chapman)
The Monday Morning Drop Off and The Longing of the Off Parent
My daughter saw this picture and headline above on my posterous site. “I know what that means,” she said. I laughed. “What does it mean?” At 9, she has been sharing more of her understanding of the world. “It means, for now. Eventually you will park on the side when you’re making room for a girlfriend.”
This post was written as a response to a reader’s comment. You can see the entire dialogue in the comments of this post: Putting Your Foot (Fool) Out There – Online Dating in Perspective
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Wow, H. You seem to have started a wonderful dialogue with yourself (and me) as a result of posting on The Off Parent. I salute you. And welcome the interaction. Here’s the crux (for me) of what you said:
“And then soon, I forgot the ‘longing’ of wanting something/someone else. My life as it is today, perfect, with my children, as they are my family now….Just like your happiest hours on Thursday nights (forgive if I got your name for it incorrect)…well, that is my life, every day and night.”
I appreciate the Happier hour of Thursdays. And I feel the tweak of my happiness every Friday morning as I drop them back at school. On the weekends when they will return to me Friday afternoon I have a nice routine, I finish my work around 3pm and I take the rest of the afternoon off, after I pick them up at 3:30.
This is such a weekend. Full. Complete. Completed. I do understand your fullness. When we are together there is nothing missing. We are a family as I envisioned it. Except of course, their mom. But of course things are MUCH easier without her, for us. There is not one single argument about cleaning the house, about chores (we have them, yes) about what we’re going to do on Saturday. This core unit has a connected and free form flow that probably drove my ex crazy. She much preferred the work plan model.
The longing for me, takes place, as it will tomorrow, when I drop them back at school on a Monday, after our full family weekend. It is that morning, as I pull away from school that I feel an ache.
Why did I, how did I end up in this “missing” place? It is a familiar feeling, but I no longer welcome it. I acknowledge the ache. And I can understand my past history that is riddled with so many “missing” moments. And for today, I move away from that HURT as I drive away from their school and them.
It is THAT longing that holds the key to me for what I am missing in the rest of my life. I DO want to be in a relationship. While I get so much joy and fulfillment out of simply being DAD, I am hungry for a companion. That longing that you have learned to forget just might be a key to the relationship you want as well. It’s easier to keep driving away from their school and the ache and just carry on.
Later in the day your THREE return to you and you are full up in the activity of FAM again. Mine do not return to my fold until the next Thursday evening. And this coming Thursday, that glimpse, that ONE NIGHT and MORNING, is all I will have of them for the entire week. And the rest of the time I am what I call, The Off Parent. Both physically (they are not with me) and mentally I am OFF.
I love having entire weekends to plan activities alone. Time and options I never had while married. But I also wish it were not so. I was content wrapped in the everyday details of being Dad. Now I don’t have that luxury. Perhaps I am pushed out to learn more about myself, my needs, my next plan or dream. Certainly, that’s what’s happening. But the reality is I LONG FOR MY KIDS when they are not here. And to a lesser extent, I can feel that I LONG FOR A RELATIONSHIP again.
There is no real reason to put up with red flags the new experimental relationships. What’s the point? If there are too many fouls, you pick up and move along.
So, H, perhaps you will find the longing in something as mundane as a painful shoulder that needs a strong and warm hand to knead and rub it. For now, you can put heating gel on it, or ask one of your kids to beat it for you. (that’s what I do.) But if you can listen to the ache, only if you want to, you might find the energy behind the longing. And at this point in my life, I am finding that ache-to-energy to be quite powerful and quite transformative.
I am becoming someone else. I am expressing all sides of the joy and pain, here on The Off Parent. I am leaving all of my grievances behind. And when they show up I’m putting them to rest by journaling them here.
I am excited that you have found the reason, the energy, to post such a reflective comment here. I hope you continue. A dialogue is forming between us. Another wonderful and interesting development from writing this down. The hard stuff and the good stuff. The dark sex stuff and the vulnerable stuff.
Thank you for joining in the dance with me.
Sincerely,
The Off Parent
Resources:
- The Divorce Library (reading list)
- Songs of Divorce (free listening library – youtube sourced songs)
- Laugh It Off (building a resource library of funny videos and other diversions)
- Facebook (follow us on Facebook and keep up with all the conversations)
- The 5 Love Languages (a book on love styles by Gary Chapman)
Just Being Dad Is Enough: A Hot Summer and a Ghost Horse
Living at the crossroads of sainthood and bullshit
Since my divorce, in August of last year, I have been rebuilding my life and my relationship with my kids. Too much time at work, too many economic ups and downs, too much stress, have all brought me to this point on the journey. Today.
As I was walking alone in my new neighborhood this morning the slowness of the activity and the drowsiness of the heat had me recounting summertime with my Dad. And the contrast between those very sparse memories and the more generous memories I am working to create with my kids on Fridays and alternating weekends this hot hot summer.
My new neighborhood is very conducive to bikes, so when she is here, my daughter and I ride every morning, “before it gets too hot.” And I have seen streets and areas we might never reach on foot. And we zoom together around the quiet streets. Fearless. Explorative. Together.
And my son and I often go for walks, since he does not like bike riding at this point. We mostly walk to the lake/pool neighborhood complex, and occasionally to the convenience store where he partakes of his favorite summer drink, the mango slushie. The last time it was just my son and me, and we were walking along up the hill in the picture above when he noticed a horse.
“Dad, that’s a horse in that yard over there.”
Sure enough, there was a large brown horse staring at us as we puffed up the hill in the heat towards the mecca of slurpiedom. We stopped and said a few words to the horse. He said nothing. And we walked on.
On our return, the horse had moved out of sight and we talked about how wild it was that a horse was “just standing there.”
Now every time we pass this place on the road we look for the horse. My daughter and I ride by the field looking for him every day she is with me. She was disappointed not to have seen him. We are both hopeful, but so far the horse has not reappeared.
So this magical moment reminds me of the optimist’s Christmas joke when the child is given a bucket of horse poop as a Christmas gift. He opens the present and laughs, “I knew there was a horse in here somewhere.” A nice summary of making the best out of a bad situation by keeping our perspectives on the positive side.
And here’s one other thing that I find entertaining. The name of the street to my house is San Juan, or Saint Juan. (As if…) And even better is the cross street that accurately marks this crossroads in my life, is de vaca, or “of cow.” Or as I refer to it, at the crossroads of sainthood and bullshit.
UPDATE 7-29-11: This morning, Friday, the three (plus dog makes 4) of us trekked to the local taco trailer for breakfast. And along the way we saw:
Again, the horse said nothing, but we are almost certain that we saw an actual horse and not some mirage from the heat. My son said he saw the horse breathing.
We were blessed with one other creature (our dog Scrambles, pictured below on his favorite chair) who enjoyed the walk as much as his ride back on my daughter’s shoulders.
We’re pretty sure the dog didn’t see the horse. There was no acknowledgment of either one by the other.
Sincerely,
The Off Parent
Resources:
- The Divorce Library (reading list)
- Songs of Divorce (free listening library – youtube sourced songs)
- Laugh It Off (building a resource library of funny videos and other diversions)
- Facebook (follow us on Facebook and keep up with all the conversations)
- The 5 Love Languages (a book on love styles by Gary Chapman)
We Ran Into Her First Ex-Husband At a Titty Bar
[Note: I’m her second ex-husband.]
There’s that fantasy that has something about two girls and a guy. I think it’s a universal male erotic obsession. I know I HAD it for a while. Not to say I don’t enjoy a bit of voyeuristic girl-on-girl pic or vid from time to time.
But the time my ex and I went to a titty bar together and ran into her FIRST ex-husband, it was a bit too much. I mean, seeing the ex-husband there was kinda funny, and my ex was fun about it. We sent him a lap dance.
And then we got my ex a couple lap dances herself. A hot, very pierced and very young working girl who clearly enjoyed making my ex-y’s muff moist, was all overplaying the role for us.
But the scene was uncomfortable for several reasons. My ex sort of “got into it” a bit much. I could see her flushed cheeks. I could imagine… Wait, I didn’t want to imagine it. And here’s why: something at that time told me that the switch would be fairly easy for my ex. The fantasy is fine until the dude is left cold. I mean, what more do I have to offer, once they are hooked up, so to speak?
So we paid her a couple of times, back and forth, in a ménage à trois ala stripper club. And the girl’s perfume was heavy with her scent. She was “working” pretty hard. And not just at our table.
We never went back. And I’m pretty sure, the idea, while somewhat interesting on paper, became more of a “not really” for me. The fragility of our intimacy was close enough that any, [any] alternative sexual energy was a threat rather than a turn-on.
It’s a shame. Or maybe not.
Hey, it looks like that stripper club is having a special tonight. Steak and lobster for $15.95. A pocket full of ones a few twenties, and… Nah, not tonight.
Sincerely,
The Off Parent
Resources:
- The Divorce Library (reading list)
- Songs of Divorce (free listening library – youtube sourced songs)
- Laugh It Off (building a resource library of funny videos and other diversions)
- Facebook (follow us on Facebook and keep up with all the conversations)
- The 5 Love Languages (a book on love styles by Gary Chapman)
Feeling Again or NOT Feeling Again
See if you can feel the irony of this. I am picking up my kids after school at my former house. And the dogs have gotten into the trash in the kitchen. So what do I do, clean it up? Make it a little more messy? Ignore it, not my problem.
Well, she is nice enough to let me use the house as a pick-up zone. It’s good for the kids. So I do a partial pickup. Coffee grounds and trash off the kitchen floor. Sweep, but not mop.
So we’re waiting 20 minutes for me to take my daughter to Brownies. Cause my ex had a business trip and it IS my day. We hustle up to the playground and there is no one in sight. We drive over to the park and it is completely empty. Turns out they are inside at the playground in the MUD office. We figure this out about 20 minutes into the meeting.
The plan was for my son and I do to a quick grocery run while they were doing girl scouts. Problem was, by the time we got her to the right room, there were only 30 minutes before the meeting would be out. So we couldn’t even get there and back in 30 minutes. So my son and I were left to our own devices. He drew and I fuddled with my Blackberry and wished it had a real browser. And tuned in to all the beautiful women coming to the playground with new offspring. Oh yeah.
So at the same park where I was a Den Leader with my son in Cub Scouts, I was now simply waiting in the park on a beautiful day, looking at beautiful women, and grooving on the pictures my son was drawing.
I guess we could have gone back to the house. It’s HER house now, but it will always be the house. Much of me is still inside.
And I give thanks that my ex is not bitter and angry or she’d have my shit in a storage unit. As it is, I am still looking for a place to live and all of my furniture and most of my clothes still in her house. She’s been boxing and moving some stuff. But lot’s of me still remains. Almost trapped, in her house, until I can find my house.
Sincerely,
The Off Parent
< back to The Hard Stuff pages
Resources:
- The Divorce Library (reading list)
- Songs of Divorce (free listening library – youtube sourced songs)
- Laugh It Off (building a resource library of funny videos and other diversions)
- Facebook (follow us on Facebook and keep up with all the conversations)
- The 5 Love Languages (a book on love styles by Gary Chapman)
Stay At Home Mom: A Dream Unfulfilled
I wanted my wife to be able to attend school functions, meet the bus after school, provide the stay-at-home lifestyle that was so common in our neighborhood. And for the first 5 years, it was almost so. I went off to work with the expectations that she could provide a nurturing landing pad for them in and around school activities.
We lived in an upper-middle-class neighborhood with plenty of affluent families who could afford the one-income lifestyle. And again, we were close. But for some portions of that time she was a part-time working mom. Booking anywhere from 10 – 20 hours a week.
We could’ve lived across town. We could’ve decided that our time with our kids was more important than the great schools we were affording them. But we didn’t. I soldiered on with my big job with big benefits while she went to mid-morning events at the school, and chummed up with the other less-than-full-time moms. And perhaps that was a sore spot for her too. We were surrounded by couples that had made it. Ours was a different path.
And she was much better at school events. She handled proctoring the table of first-graders much better than I did. She was never short of ideas for kid-friendly activities. She never passed up a kid’s request, “Can we paint?” It was one of her gifts. She was fearless with the kids.
So it was a slightly dogged dad that I had become trying to support this selective imbalance. And for the most part, I was fully on-board and supportive and happy that she had the extra time to be with the kids. But there was a sadness too.
I was sad somewhere deep inside, about not being able to provide as well as my dad did, making the nice home, nice neighborhood, nice stay-at-home wife. And sometimes when I would visit the school in place of my wife, I would feel guilty, like SHE was supposed to be there not me. And somehow it was my fault that she was having to work and I was filling in.
But the reality is this: I deserve time with my kids as much as she does. I gave up my ability to proctor classroom activities for a shot at allowing her to be there. There are plenty of families in our school district who have two working parents. And we had certainly achieved an agreeable fit. At least that’s what I felt about it.
Today I visited my daughter at school for lunch. She didn’t know I was coming. I didn’t really plan it out, I just looked at the schedule and noticed that her lunch was at 12:4o and off I went. She was delighted to see me. She proudly quizzed me about her friends’ names and laughed with them as I couldn’t remember any of them. And we sat and chatted with the group while she ate.
Looking around the cafeteria there was one other man in the room. I was in the realm of women and children. But the sad tone did not creep into my thoughts. I was happy to have the time to visit, I was happy my daughter was doing well with the divorce, and I was happy to be able to know that the value I provided was over and above any income bracket or a nice house. What I provide for my daughter is a solid male example.
I left before the lunch was completely over. The table was getting excited at the anticipation of going out for recess. I high-fived my daughter and said, “I’ll see you after the bus today, at your mom’s house.” I was picking up my son and my daughter was choosing to stay at home with the very cool babysitter. And we were happy with the arrangement.
Sincerely,
The Off Parent
Resources:
- The Divorce Library (reading list)
- Songs of Divorce (free listening library – youtube sourced songs)
- Laugh It Off (building a resource library of funny videos and other diversions)
- Facebook (follow us on Facebook and keep up with all the conversations)
- The 5 Love Languages (a book on love styles by Gary Chapman)
Picture This: A Beautiful Deaf Girl, 29, Working In a Titty Bar
She sits on my lap and we exchange some hellos and she begins to sign. I know how to say “I love you.” I say. She lip-reads. We laugh.
She pulls out a pen and paper and we carry on an amazing conversation. I don’t want to be at a titty bar with her. She wants to do a table dance, but she’s just working for a living. I am amused.
She lets me pick the set of music she will dance to. She says she has been a “dancer” for ten years. Not titty dancing, mind you, real dancing. Says she was a cheerleader.
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And what I notice is her perfume. Spicy and different. It’s all a haze now, I have come down. The hamburger was terrific and the company was fun as well.
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For some reason, I believe her. But I warn you, never believe anything a titty dancer tells you. They lie for a living. They lie to make you give up another $20 bucks. They lie about everything, most importantly, their name. It’s like something from T. S. Elliot, where the “real” name of a titty dancer might give you some power over them. Probably cuts down on the stalking.
Anyway, Katy, I named her Mary Moon due to the quarter moon on her back, is 29, she says. And she is amazingly funny and articulate, in her writing. And she continues to sit on my lap. Asks if I will buy her a beer. Yes, of course.
So she dances to Foo Fighers’ Pretender, Black Hole Sun, and Name by the Goo Goo Dolls. A set made in my little moment of heaven. She is pretty, trim, petite and better looking than she is a dancer. She is moving to the thud of the music, of course, she doesn’t know the words. I pay her some more dollars and buy her another beer when she’s done.
I tell her I can help her set up a website for her business. She takes my email and phone number, dutifully. (I don’t imagine she will ever really call me. But might as well put it out there.) Fill my own little portion of the fantasy.
And what I notice is her perfume. Spicy and different. It’s all a haze now, I have come down. The hamburger was terrific and the company was fun as well. She devoured my french fries when I was done.
So, Mary Moon, I hope your night picks up. When I left there was one of three other paying patrons. It was Tuesday after all. And if you DO call, well, that will be another story.
Sincerely,
The Off Parent
@theoffparent
related posts:
- Go Big This Time, Or Go Home
- Sex Without Desire Is More Like Porn Than Lovemaking
- The Simple Science of Online Dating – My Perspective & Process
- The Hierarchy of Needs: Sex and the Hookup Culture
resources:
- The Divorce Library (reading list)
- Songs of Divorce (free listening library – youtube sourced songs)
- Laugh It Off (building a resource library of funny videos and other diversions)
- Facebook (follow us on Facebook and keep up with all the conversations)
