Divorce, Single Parenting, Dating, Sex, & Self-Recovery

Heart On My Sleeve: How Could You Not Tell Me About This?

divorced dad, heart on my sleeveI’m a lot to handle. I get that. I’m asking for a lot in return for my investment. And could I actually dig into a deep relationship and not share this blog with her? I mean, I’m trying to be all honest and introspective, but… I’m a bit dangerous in the same way, right?

Would you date a man who chronicled his relationships? Would you knowingly kiss me if you knew I might turn around and say I didn’t like it, here?

In the prospecting I do not lead with this information. I think it would limit my options even more than my age or my school-aged kids.

And the question then comes up in my mind, “Am I limiting my options?”

An example. I like(d) a woman recently. She at least knew about the blog. We mentioned it during a night of wine and hopefulness. I was certain that this, badass, and I felt she had the BA potential all over her, was not afraid of a little self-examination. I mean, it’s anonymous, right?

But I don’t think it comes across that way. I guess it doesn’t. You’ll have to tell me.

I want a badass. I don’t want someone to kick my ass. I had that in my first marriage. I need you, her, to stand firmly on her own ground.

Any way, things with this friend seemed on the right track, hold on loosely. Being cool and opportunistic rather than adoring and available. And it seemed, for a week or so, every opportunity missed was answered with a “how about…” response from her. And then it all stopped.

The old familiar pattern of “if I don’t generate it, nothing happens” came back in to view. And so I laid back for a second. And she also stayed quiet. And here we stand. Sort of at a standoff. But my last two, “hey, how about…” messages got the “sorry, can’t” response with ZERO REJOINDER.

Loud and clear, right?

So, it’s too bad. Because there were some things, and some history to our friendship, that had potential written all over it. But something disconnected. Maybe me. Maybe the “information.” This information.

Okay, stepping back for a second, I try and see myself. The picture I paint, if you read this. Not 100% flattering. Transparent, but dangerous. And if I had read her blog, of simliar content and controversy what would my reaction be?

I don’t think I’d be saying, “Oh boy, she’s a great writer.” I would hope that I would. Or I might be saying, “Oh man, we’re gonna be HUGE IN SOCIAL MEDIA CIRCLES.” But that’s probably not it either.

So I have to wonder, what you might see in me, if you saw this FIRST.

I have to imagine my reaction to the beautifully damaged Emma Forrest, who’s book Your Voice in My Head: A Memoir , touched me deeply. A shockingly beautiful and successful writer, and there she is, as transparently tragic as possible.

AND I am drawn to her.


The woman to call out the next symphony. I guess those are pretty tall requirements. But that’s who she is.

My recent girlfriend, who has jumped the tracks back into the friend role (benefits when comfortable, perhaps), said recently, “You have a predilection for the sexually tragic woman.”

Huh? She was speaking to me about my questioning this potential married woman. “She’s unavailable, how interesting. Another sexually damaged woman.”

“You’re right. How gross. I don’t like that. But I am drawn to it.”

“Perhaps it keeps you from feeling or doing something. If she’s unavailable or broken you can suffer.”

“Oh great. More songs. More songs about longing. Ug!”

“Maybe. Or maybe fewer.”

“Fuck,” I said. She had nailed me. She didn’t even know about my passion for Emma Forrest.

So I have a predilection for sexually tragic and emotionally unavailable women? THAT SUCKS.

Is this blog a further dig into that hole? Am I showing myself to be a tragically damaged man? Chronically obsessed with his divorce? I don’t think that’s my MO. But I’m not so sure the entire picture is here either.

Here is the line from my current online dating profile: Creative, spiritual, flexible, easy going, hand-holding, badass.

I want a badass. I don’t want someone to kick my ass. I had that in my first marriage. I need you, her, to stand firmly on her own ground. If she reads this blog, she might say, “Yeah, fuck that divorce shit. Let’s put the divorce album away now and write a new symphony.”

Yes, that’s what I’m after. The woman to call out the next symphony. I guess those are pretty tall requirements. But that’s who she is. Her own badass, willing to weather and stand by my badass as we badass around this life together.

And I’m certain she’s out there. I can feel her.


The Off Parent

ref: When You’re Shrink Dies – On Emma Forrest
Emma Forrest’s Twitter Account: @GirlInterrupter

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woman to call out the next symphony

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