Lean on

My friend is going through a break-up. It’s been devastating for her, magnified x1000 because she also suffers from anxiety and depression. It’s  bad enough feeling severed from something even in the best of circumstances, so yeah..I feel terrible for her.

My last break-up was with my babydaddy, and it was so traumatic that I refused to be in a relationship for 8 years after. I spent a great deal of time in mourning, but eventually became a cheerleader for the single life. As hard as it was to be a single mom, it was easier than the alternative: trusting someone. I soon realized I was the in the minority. Most people prefer being partnered. I didn’t. I understand now that it was probably due to the circumstances that surrounded the end of my relationship (raising a daughter alone, watching her father get married and have a baby with a new woman..etc). I had bad taste in my mouth about relationships for a LONG time. It also didn’t help that I witnessed many of my friends cheating on their girlfriends/boyfriends, and watched my own parents’ marriage dissolve into a baffling series of events (more on that later).

I generally regarded articles like this with a degree of scorn and superiority. The following statement just didn’t apply to me:

Someone with a partner would have a person to lean on during this time.

I mean.. when I was single I’d lean on my friends, and that was enough for me..99% of the time. They gave me enough support, love, acceptance and strength so I could get through my daily life. Sure, I had moments where I’d feel alone, scared, hopeless and miserable. But those moments weren’t unmanageable. I realize now that I was lucky as HELL. For some people, it’s not just about moments that pass.. It’s about EVERY DAY being made up of  thousands of moments of pain and sadness.

Now that I’m coupled, I understand the luxury of having someone to lean on. My friends were amazing, but they didn’t offer the 24/7 access to comfort the way my boyfriend does. When I’m scared in the middle of the night,  he’s there. He also makes it easier to deal with many things, like mentally checking in when he sees me going down a Cortisol-induced spiral. It’s incredible having someone to put a dampener on your inner voice, the one that tells you “OMG THIS IS THE END OF THE WORLD!!!”. When you’re single, you don’t have that. It’s just you on the front lines of your own mind.

But life’s not a suffering competition . Nobody’s pain is more or less valid than someone else’s. We all have feelings, and we shouldn’t try to legitimatize of someone’s pain based on what we think they’ve been through. Unfortunately, I did a lot of comparing when I was single. It was my coping mechanism. It helped me get through the struggles and sadness I felt.

Confession: It gave me comfort knowing another person might have failed, or fallen apart when I succeeded. It was a selfish, prideful, self-promoting feeling, but I indulged in it, because I was alone. Because my friends were coupled, and I didn’t have someone to learn on.

Well guess what? I’m not a rock, not a f***ing superhuman, and I’ve failed just as many times as I’ve succeeded. Being in a relationship forced me to confront my false perceptions and vulnerabilities. Being single let me build a bubble around them. My bubble needed to be popped..

But more on that later..

 

Let Down

Ok so I’ve been in a funk. I’m low. I’m trying to sort it out. Obviously I’m not in love with Young Buck. Our relationship consisted of 1 kiss, 4 weeks of texting, 1 phone call,  3 orgasms and some missing clothing. I didn’t want anything more than that. 

But now my phone is quiet. The 1000+ messages exchanged between us have come to a screeching halt. I’m loath to admit it, but I miss it. The control is out of my hands now. I had something exciting and physical, and it was prematurely confiscated.  The 2-year-old in me is throwing a tantrum about her candy being taken away.

Maybe I was trying to play God, and it never occurred to me that there was another person who had a life of their own. He wasn’t just there to be my sex slave.

Continue reading “Let Down”

How much of a hippie are you?

The 21-year-old stud texted me for an hour last night. What a trip he is. He’s like a walking, talking Red State. I almost forgot what it’s like to be barely legal, full of conviction and self-righteousness. Like you’re ready to stare down any fool that gets in your way, demanding authority, simply because you’re the hottest thing on the block.

On Facebook, I was notified that he recently became a fan of “beer,” “boobs” and “beef”. Yep. That about sums him up. Its like drinking a shot of Stetson when he’s around, even through the phone. If I was a out-of-control 21-year-old filly like I used to be, this would have been too much testosterone for me to handle.

Things are different now. He can’t womanize me if I manize him first.

Actual Text exchange from last night:

  • So you basically play every sport except soccer and tennis.
  • Yeah, but those aren’t real sports.
  • Somehow I knew you would say that.
  • Well that’s how I was raised.
  • You see honey, that’s why it can never work out between a redneck and a hippie.
  • I’m sorry, I just really hate hippies.
  • Ok Cartman.
  • How much of a hippie are you?

“How much of a hippie are you?”How does one answer that question. I almost dropped my phone and fell off the Wii Fit laughing.

I can’t wait till we meet again. I should get my tarot cards out and give him a reading. Stroke his palm and talk about astrological convergence. Go through every page of the Kama Sutra and gush about meditative tantra. I’m going to weave flowers into his Cowboy hat. He’ll be so in love with hippie-dom he won’t know what do with himself.

Ok, so at least its a good fantasy. Or maybe I’m just playing with redneck fire.

Major Hottie

A really HOT guy came to the front desk this morning. No, he was an intimidatingly gorgeous half Latino, half Choctaw sculpture of a man. After he left, I lifted my jaw off the floor and turned to my co-worker.

“I know him. He’s single. He works at Steamworks,” she said.

Immediately we did what any virtuous employees with access to information would do: We looked up all the details we could find on him, including his age, education and parents’ profession. BAD I know, but  I don’t think I actually violated any FERPA guidelines by doing it.

My romantic history:  Sushi Boy; Scared him off. Tree Boy; have yet to “set up” the accidental meeting.  Major Hotness Man; may be reduced to stalking staking him out at the local brew pub.  Am I totally dysfunctional about men?

On another note. I won a self-help book at the annual Employee Appreciation Lunch. The title: “Where to draw the line.” Hmm. I think the universe is telling me something.

Happy April!

News & Advice

Good News! It looks like LB may still qualify for Head Start! They base eligibility on last year’s taxes, and I didn’t start my new job until January, so I still fall within the Po’ White trash guidelines. That means no moving her to the more expensive, but closer ( literally, downstairs) daycare. No filing another modification of Child Support.

Oh the luck!

I also got an email from one of my mom’s friends, who also happens to be a single mom. She raised her daughter from a very early age, and apparently read my post at Rocky Mountain Moms Blog. Since there’s been so much discussion about single moms dating lately, I thought I’d post her opinion on the subject, after living single motherhood for more than 30 years:

 Being a dating, single mom is tricky, but not so hard.  I strongly suggest what I did.  I kept the guys away from my daughter.  They knew about her, but they were not exposed to her.  I was out to have a good time.  Not find a daddy.  However, if I found someone that I really enjoyed, and the feeling was mutual, and I was hopeful, then they could meet her because I was not going to spend a lot of time without my girl.  They had to be worthy, and they had to be good with kids.  Or that was it. 

I really hear her on “having a good time” vs. “finding a daddy”. This is the argument that I keep trying to make. That single moms CAN have a sex life, an adult life, and that life doesn’t affect or hurt their child in any way.  The question is, can we bring this philosophy to the next level?

Tree Boy

Email from my mother:

Ok, you have to meet the guy who removed the tree stumps from my backyard. He owns his own business, is really cute, very polite, and he volunteers at the Humane Society in his free time! I couldn’t bring myself to ask if he’s got a girlfriend. He’s going to do some work for Curmudge. Maybe she can see if he’s single?

Email from Curmudge, after jokingly FWDing my mom’s message to her:

I don’t know him very well, but my husband does. I’ll ask him.

Email from Curmudge’s hubby:

He’s very attractive, quietly confident and polite but definitely light hearted and easy going. I instantly liked him when I met him at the bank and still think he’s a great guy. I have no idea if he is single or not. His business phone number is _________. We might have him out to take out a couple trees at our house this spring so maybe you can just happen to come by to help move branches out of the yard. I can get the BBQ going after the trees are down and treat him and my “helpers” to lunch. 😉

Alrighty then. No clue who this guy is. Never even seen him. Apparently flirtateous mother match-making forces are at work here. Definitely NOT going to stalk his work number, I’ve learned my lesson with Sushi Boy.

Oh, and supposedly, he looks a little like you know who. Don’t know how I feel about that.

In defense

I posted at Rocky Mountain Moms Blog today. I wrote in defense of another single mom.

I read Rachel Sarah’s book, Single Mom Seekingabout a year ago.  I had just moved into my own apartment, and for the first time in my life, I was alone. I had never lived in a house without roommates, boyfriends or my parents.  Now I was on my own, fully responsible for my 18 month old child.

About a week before I moved, I had a terrifying epiphany. I could not get hurt. What if I fell down the stairs and broke my neck one day? What if I choked on a fish bone? Who would be there to administer CPR?  How long would I lie on the ground, listening to my daughter cry helplessly, waiting for someone to help me? There would be no hubby coming home from work at 6 pm. There would be no boyfriend miraculously calling to ask if I wanted take-out and instead rushing home to take me to the hospital.

No, that would not be my fate. As Bridget Jones said,”I would be found three weeks later, half eaten by wild dogs.” Only they would find a dead baby as well!

My mind really can be an awful place.

Eventually I stopped the morbid death obsession, and starting living my new life. At first, I made sure I either called someone, or someone called me every day. That eventually tapered off into normal day-to-day life. What single mom has the energy to worry about her own death? Not me, I soon realized.

Rachel Sarah’s book was like a glimpse into an alien world. A world where single moms do more than just survive. I was so busy taking care of the basic necessities, I didn’t realize that maybe I should take the next step up on Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. I still had blood running through my veins after all. I still desired a man’s touch.

I read Single Mom Seeking, and finally the logistics of dating seemed plausible. I mean, she dated A LOT. I barely had any male contact in my life. The daily trek between work, daycare and home didn’t really put me in the way of many single men.

This book shocked me at how brave and exposed Rachel Sarah allowed herself to be. She put herself out there honestly, with an open mind, prepared to play with the hand she had been dealt. The book was extremely intimate,  there were many blush-worthy moments for me, having been so detached from my own sexuality.

So when this article came out, depicting one of the most controversial moments in the book, I had to answer the author’s plea for support. I was appalled at the comments, floored at how many came from other moms. Instead of considering their own reactions to the article, and why exactly society still treats a mother’s sexuality like a cancerous growth, they laid into Single Mom Seeking with an ugly vengeance.

Here’s to your fearlessness, Rachel. Thanks for letting the world know that single moms have the same sexual desires as married moms, and we should be able to express them without public humiliation.