I was reminded of this fact last week, while dining with Favorite Niece and her friend Sugar Pumpkin. Not only had I not written in 10 months, they said, but the blog link wasn’t even working. (I forgot to pay up for the domain name.)
Apparently, Sugar Pumpkin wanted to re-read my last post, Six Point Five (6.5), about online dating, which she recently signed up for. If I were her dating coach (and thank goodness I’m not), I would discourage her from reading that post – unless she was trying to make herself feel better about her own experiences. But I have to keep my 2 loyal readers happy, so I promised to renew my domain name, and that I’d make an effort at a new blog post.
I didn’t write for all those months because I lacked time. I had moved, and was busy with a new job, and things on the dating front were going well for a change, which does not always make for good copy. That’s not to say there weren’t some blog-worthy, moments, like dating 2 Christophers for a couple months, but I could never manage to pull a post together.
And then, in March, I fell in love with one of the C’s, and could not bring myself to write about it. You have to have some mad writing skills to make falling in love sound good, and not gag-inducing drivel. I was certain I would achieve only drivel, so I didn’t dare to try. There were difficult things about it, which were probably worth writing about, but they seemed too self-indulgent and first-world-problemy to describe.
Cufflinks (his nickname, to help my friends differentiate the two C’s) and I lasted a few months, and it was as wonderful and as complicated as it gets when two 40-something people try to open their hearts again. We adored each other, and laughed our faces off drinking scotch and playing darts in his loft. I had moments of perfect happiness watching him cook for me.
We tried to make it work, but we struggled with schedules and communication. I was overwhelmed by the job and the living situation, which were turning from bad to worse, and I couldn’t handle much more stress, so I broke up with him. It was a rash decision made in an emotional moment, one I regretted instantly, and likely did too much damage to fix.
But then this has been The Year of the Phenomenally Bad Decisions that lead to big life changes: a move, a new job, and a new relationship. I knew there were risks in each of these things – but I didn’t think they would all collapse around me the way they did, which was all at once.
All three things ended on the worst of terms.
Leave it to a kids movie, Open Season 2 , to provide me with an epiphany. Watching it with my friend’s kids recently, I identified with Fifi, the angry toy poodle who slowly loses his marbles, voiced by Crispin Glover. Fifi gets his due in the end, and Roberto, the otherwise dimwitted basset hound says “I gotta admit, he kinda had that coming.”
Now it’s time to tease out where I went wrong versus where I was wronged. I’m heartbroken, burned and bruised, and my trust in myself is strained. But I am also resolute, and somewhat optimistic (if you catch me pre-2nd glass of chardonnay, that is). And I have August off in Newport, so there’s that.
And, just to be safe, I made my friends promise to help me steer clear of any phenomenally bad decisions for at least a few months, so I can get back on my feet again. Perhaps I’ll even write more with all my free time. Perhaps for Sugar Pumpkin, I’ll even force myself to date again, strictly for blog inspiration, and under the very close supervision of my friends, of course.
More Food, Less Pain,