Thursday, January 31, 2008

Sorting Things Out

One of the sad ironies of dating after you are divorced is that because you know how great marriage can be, you are even more anxious to get married, but because you know how horrible marriage can be you are twice as careful about not marrying the wrong person.

Booming biological clocks aside, I really do want to be married again. There is no question that your community status rises when you marry and that friends and even close family look at you differently. Perhaps it shouldn't be that way, but it is. It is also nice to come home to someone, even when things are bad, to have someone to call with that good news, or even more so, with that bad news. It's nice to have someone to struggle along with financially (assuming that person actually treats you as a partner) and nice to have a permanent date and vacation partner. For the times when my marriage was good, I really enjoyed being someone's wife, having a husband. I miss it.

Sometimes divorced people tend to eulogize their marriages, and because they are out of the pain, they can selectively forget how miserable it was. I do this occasionally, and when I slip into this amnesia state, I give myself a little virtual slap across the face. Snap out of it WebGirl! The fighting, the silences, the passive-aggressive games, the lack of love and affection, the mocking, the religious alienation...it all comes rushing back. And the memories make me want to hide inside my house and never leave, never go out on a date again with these terribly, terribly flawed men, who will make my life a living hell if I God forbid marry any of the them.

Balance. Yes, I know. Balance. You have to balance the reasonable part of your fear with your longing to be with someone again. It sounds lovely. Try living it.

I know I've been depressed lately, and I've been struggling against it. The stupid crying jags that punctuated my marriage are back, maybe as commas and not as periods, but they are back. I've been trying to push myself, to force myself to do the things I enjoy whether I feel like doing them or not, to distract myself and not fall into that chasm of self-pity and self-loathing that is so very destructive and ugly and probably contributed a great deal toward the final demise of my marriage.

Today, I did something I've done only twice before. I wrote to someone on Frumster. He doesn't have the type of profile that would normally attract me, the one that's funny and light and the kind I want to read twice. His was more serious and brief and to the point. He's a little older and he's decent looking but will never appear in GQ. He's accomplished and educated, sounds sincerely frum, and is tall. I just want to try some new things. This is definitely new. I'm not overly invested in it either way.

I guess we'll see.

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