It's Been a Long Time

It's been almost a year since I wrote anything, but it seems like the blink of an eye. So what's changed?

Well, I appear to have developed balistophobia, the debilitating fear of missile silos. Yet somehow I still make it through the day. Think I can get a medical marijuana certificate for it?

Other than that, not much and everything.

"Not much" in the sense that I still have the same house, the same job and haven't crossed a damn thing off my bucket list. I'm beginning to wonder whether I was full of shit when I wrote it, or if I'm just a big pussy.

"Everything" in the sense that I've sort of moved on and found someone new.

The phase "sort of" deserves an entire blog post. I've moved on to the degree that I think I am capable. It would be akin to a drummer losing an arm. Life isn't over, he just needs to find a different career. Or not...

What I'm trying to say is that I've lost my naive innocence regarding relationships. The last time it was inconceivable to me that any "real" marriage could fail. Hardly anyone I knew had ever been divorced, and for "those people" there were obvious explanations - infidelity, alcohol, a lack of commitment from the beginning. That wasn't me. Or any of my friends. They were different. I was different. We jumped in headfirst - damn the depth of the river.

The second time around there's a vague awareness in the back of your mind that you're not special. You know exactly how bad it can end and how quickly it can turn.  And because of that, you're extremely reticent to go "all in". It's not like you've got one foot out the door, but you always know where the nearest fire extinguisher is.

Based on what I've read, this is pretty typical. It's the baggage that everyone who goes through a divorce carries with them. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice and I'm ready to sue.

In fact, "moving on" was the one major reason I stopped posting. When I started this blog I had nothing to lose. I was so embarrassed and shamed by my divorce that there wasn't anything that I wasn't willing to write about and share with total strangers. It was "public therapy", a semi-safe place to work out all of the pain, anger, shame and rage that was eating me alive. I was at my lowest point, so the thought of people pointing and laughing at my failures didn't really bother me. Or the fact they would be preserved for eternity where prospective employers and my kid's friends could review and comment.

Granted, I wasn't really taking the "long view" at the time.

Last year I got to a place where I no longer felt it was appropriate to share every random embarrassing thought that popped into my head. I felt it would be a terrible invasion of privacy to blog or write about anyone I was dating, even though the stories would have been great. The potential of being seen with me in public can be embarrassing enough. Having it posted where her parents, kids, friends or husband could see it is just wrong.

Once that filter went up my writing became banal bullshit and I stopped posting any of it. I have 14 semi-finished posts that will never see the light of Google. They all started with a spark of clever inspiration. They all ended with bullshit generalities, platitudes and a lack of any true "feeling."

Granted, it's not like I set the literary bar very high, but if I couldn't control my gag reflex for three paragraphs I doubt any of you would give a shit.

So what's new? Well, my girlfriend is moving in next month.

I'll let that one settle in for a minute.

Yes, I am scared out of my mind. I'm not sure I should be writing about any of this, and if / when she sees this the move may be cancelled. But I've got to work this stuff out, and I don't have time for therapy.

I'm better as part of a team. BLT says that I always wanted to be married. I think he's right. I like being part of a team. I like the support. I like the feeling I get when I can help someone else. Even when I was going through the divorce, I was absolutely certain I would eventually get married again, even if intellectually I was telling myself "Oh hell no".

The woman I have been seeing is wonderful. She's kind, supportive, thoughtful, smart, attractive, progressive, exciting, active, funny, great with my kids and more than willing to put up with me.

You're probably thinking she's perfect, well I'm here to tell you "far from it". She can't make a decision, thinks sleeping to 10:00 AM is acceptable behavior, says Corgi's aren't real dogs and doesn't hate Jhonny Peralta anywhere near enough for my taste. Basically, she's a basket case.

So why am I scared shitless? Because I'm afraid that I didn't learn enough from my divorce. I'm pretty sure I'm a jerk. I try not to be, but it comes so naturally. It's a gift. Or a curse. Now sure, a few of you will feign disbelief and say "Oh no, you're just being a drama king Bob." Thank you for trying to soften the blow. I'm sure a few of you even said that with a straight face, but we all know it's true. I'm a jerk.

Do any of you have a Facebook page dedicated to how big of a jerk you are? I do. For real. And it wasn't even started by The Ex. If you count the Ex's Facebook page, it's actually two pages dedicated to how much of an asshole I am.

I know it's not unusual for children to have contentious relationships with their parents. But I've managed to become estranged from not one, but two mothers. Yes, the people who are hormonally evolved and socially conditioned to nurture and protect their young both think I am a jerk. Granted, one of them is mentally ill and the other is biologically related to me (which is a reasonable excuse I suppose), but still. You couple that with my sociopathic Ex and you can see that I may have problems with women.

Once is bad luck. Twice is a coincidence. Three times and it's probably your fault.

What happens when my girlfriend realizes that she's living with a jerk? Hopefully she's less sociopathic than my ex, but then again what if I'm just a horrible judge of character? It's not as if rapists and serial killers introduce themselves with their chosen avocation while announcing their intention to gut and skin you for sport.

"You got a pretty mouth boy."

"Um, thanks... I gotta go. Bye."

If only it was that easy.

So what do our friends think? Most of them say it's "too early". But when asked "How long would be long enough?" they shrug.

Twelve months? Eighteen months? Six years? I don't know either. People in arranged marriages may only meet one or two times prior to their wedding and yet statistically they are very successful. According to multiple sites, the global divorce rate for arranged marriages is only 6%! Now granted, there are numerous caveats to that statistic since it is heavily culturally biased. It doesn't consider the impact of familial shame, the poor economic prospects for women in countries that favor arranged marriage or local laws prohibiting divorce.

But believe it or not, November will mark two years that my girlfriend and I have known each other. That's a significant amount of time. It's longer than I knew my ex-wife before we moved in together. In fact, by the two year mark we were engaged and well into planning our wedding.

I know full well this could turn out to be a flipping disaster to rival the last one. But it could also be a wonderful start to a new life together. In life there are no guarantees and no one knows how this is going to end. But I know that I'm a lot happier when I'm with her. So nothing ventured, nothing gained.

I'm going to jump in that river again, even if this time I'm keeping one eye on the life preserver. Wish me luck.

Things I Want In A Dance Partner

I need an intervention. I've been listening to way too much Alanis Morissette.

My kids like to play with the radio in the car. Since they have the attention spans of a couple over-caffeinated hummingbirds, I have never actually heard the second verse of any song in their presence.

Similar to most Americans and the "Star Spangled Banner". The second verse is... well... not good. If you care to read it, click here.

A note about my car. I'm currently driving a red 2011 Mustang convertible. It's my company car. To call the media player in this car a "radio" is like calling the Motorola Droid X a "phone". In fact, other than NPR, I haven't listened to terrestrial radio in over four years. My iPod is "Sync'd" directly to the media center and the kids have access to about 10,000 songs. They, of course, listen to three: "Teenage Dream", "Last Friday Night" and "California Gurls" all off Katy Perry's new album. Over and over. Day and night.

Their current favorite is "Last Friday Night", which I must admit is a catchy tune. They know all of the words. Consequently, my daughter recently asked what "Menage a Trois" was. I told her I didn't speak French. If you've heard the song you'll understand.

On the other hand, would it have been possible for her to have asked anyone less qualified than me to answer that question? I think I would have to look it up.


No, I'm not looking it up for you - do it yourself. Pervert.

I'll try to stay on topic.

On the media center there is a"similar music" button. This function will randomly skip to a song the system thinks is similar to what you are currently listening to. My kids love it. I swear that portion of the touch screen is wearing out under the little finger prints.

They kept pushing and eventually the song "Torch" by Alanis Morissette popped on. It's a touching song about the regret and loss associated with the end of a relationship.

They were instantly bored.

But by then we were turning into the garage and they quickly dispersed. End of story, right? Not quite. The way the software in the car works is that when you shut down, it'll start playing the album of the last song played. In this case that was "Flavors of Entanglement".

I think the album was written right after she broke up with Ryan Reynolds. It's filled with regret, loss and grief. Like me.

Well "Flavors of Entanglement" let to "Jagged Little Pill", which led to "So Called Chaos", which led to "Under Rug Swept". Consequently, I've been thinking a lot about loss. No surprise there. And that's where our story begins.

I was listening to "21 Things I Want In A Lover" off the "Under Rug Swept" album for the sixth or seventh time when it dawned on me that I didn't have a plan. "I'd like to pretend I have a choice in the matter" so I decided to put together a list of what I'll be looking for in my next dance partner. Granted, it'll be quite a while before I'm back on the dance floor, but it doesn't mean I can't prepare for that day. I also think this particular exercise is good because it's forward looking, as opposed to dwelling on my present situation.

That's becoming a familiar theme in this blog - looking ahead as opposed to analyzing the past. "Moving Forward" is coming.

So, with that we are off.

1) Must be a woman. I know, why exclude half the population right off the bat, right? Unfortunately, I'm pretty inflexible on this one.

Yeah, I know, most of my facebook pictures would indicate the opposite. Let's pretend that I don't photograph well.

2) Joie de vivre. She must think of life as a journey and take advantage of every day we are gifted with. I need someone who takes life by the throat and lives in the moment. I spent the last twenty years being responsible and living with an eye to the future. Now that I've hit middle age, I kind of wonder what I was saving for?

"Joie de vivre" is literally translated as "the joy of living" or "the joy of life". It's often corrupted to "joie de vie" which is "joy for life". I prefer the traditional. My usage implies a cheerful enjoyment of life and living, or a happy spirit.

Good thing I don't speak French, right?

You should hear my pronunciation of French. It is atrocious. The French feel so sorry for me they immediately switch to English.

3) Good with kids. If she can't deal with my kids, I can't deal with her.

4) Good-natured, healthy sense of humor that is compatible with my snark and stupidity. She doesn't necessarily have to laugh at my jokes, just put up with them. If I have to, I'm even willing to explain them to her.

Like I do with you people.

It's more important that she makes me laugh. And no jokes at other people's expense - well, except for me. A mild self-deprecating sense of humor is good too. It implies she doesn't take herself too seriously and is comfortable in her own skin.

5) Personal integrity. No liars or cheats. I'm not even talking about sex - I want the type of woman that when a cashier gives her the wrong change she points out the mistake and gives the money back. I prefer someone who would rather tell me the truth than tell me what's convenient. The Ex has a very hard time telling right from wrong. I dealt with that once - not again.

6) Intellectually stimulating. I have to find her interesting. This doesn't mean she has to be the evil genius I am, it just means she has to have a broad range of interests that roughly parallel or supplement mine.

I want to be able to have an intelligent conversation. She needs to have strong views and opinions that she is capable of, and willing to, defend. Basically, I don't care what type of books and magazines she reads, she just has to read something. The deeper the better. And if she's versed in topics I didn't even know existed, bonus points!

I think this pretty much implies she has to be a college graduate, though it would be possible to meet this requirement without a degree. Life experience counts.

7) Self-confidence. No shrinking violets. She should also be comfortable with her own body image.

8) Sense of adventure and a willingness to try new things. No fear. I think this will come hand in hand with #2. I want a woman that finds nothing wrong with visiting a nudist camp to see your eccentric Uncle. Or taking ballroom dance lessons "just because".

The nudist camp is a story for a different post. A good one, but not today. Trust me, none of you want to think about me playing naked Bocce Ball.

I'm not saying she has to be a nudist. I'm not a nudist. At least, I don't think I am...

How many times do you have to go to be a "member"?

I'm just saying she should at least be open to considering the idea.

9) Firmly grounded in reality. No magical thinking. I'm a realist and I have very little patience for people who believe in things like 9/11 conspiracies, psychics (other than for entertainment), homeopathy, alien abduction, not vaccinating your children, spirits / ghosts, herbal supplements (that have been proven not to work) or "The Secret".

Religion is okay as long as they don't expect me to participate. I like the sense of community and support that comes with church, I just wish they could do it without the imaginary stuff.

10) Able to admit when she is wrong, apologize and move on. The Ex was completely incapable of this. In the entire time we were married I don't recall her ever saying "I'm sorry" and meaning it.

Key point, if you ever find yourself in a hole, the first step to recovery is to stop digging.

11) Demonstrates kindness towards others. If she can't treat strangers with respect and kindness, eventually she'll do the same to you. I've seen too many people suck up to me because of my position, only to treat a waitress, cashier, employee or secretary with complete disrespect. I won't put up with this.

"The King will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.'" - Matthew 25:40


Who ever thought they would see a Bible verse in one of my posts? Hands?

It's a great way to live your life. And not be a prick.

12) Reasonably athletic, active and interested in things that I enjoy. I want someone I can do things with. Long walks, hiking, swimming, biking, golf, bowling, softball, camping, fishing, sex. Pretty much anything. If she stays active, I'll stay active.

I like the fact I've lost all the weight and my current plan is to keep it off. We'll see if I'm successful.

13) Interested in and entertained by watching both professional (or college) baseball and football. Especially football. There is nothing better than attending a high school or college game in the fall. Except playing, but not at my age.

I don't even care what teams she roots for.

Well, except the Yankees. That might be a deal breaker.

14) Allergic to Fox News. I'm a progressive Democrat. Sorry ladies, but I don't see how I could ever date a conservative - except for maybe grudge sex. There's just not enough common ground anymore.

Good thing most conservatives look like the Crypt Keeper.

This includes being pro-choice. I respect the motivation behind the pro-life crowd, it's just not for me.

15) Fulfilling career. She needs to have a job that provides her with a sense of satisfaction and that takes up a good percentage of her time. I'm not interested in being the center of anyone's universe.

Having the right job is a rewarding experience and adds depth to a personality. I think it makes anyone more interesting.

It also wouldn't hurt her financial stability.

16) An even temper. I don't want someone who is overly emotional or flies off the handle at the slightest provocation. I want someone who can laugh off the small speed bumps in life and doesn't get discouraged by minor setbacks.

No drama queens or rage-aholics.

17) No drugs. Unless she shares.

18) Assertive. I want a woman who is not afraid to tell me when I'm wrong or call bullshit on my frequent bullshit. My dance partner needs to be willing to stand up for herself and what she believes in. I see more than enough "Yes Men" and "Yes Women" at work. I don't need that on my personal time.

19) Ability to compromise. Yeah, #18 could be a real problem if it's not accompanied by its more reasonable partner, compromise.

20) Broad life experience. This supplements #6 - intellectual stimulation. I want someone that has lived a full life and has both the memories and scars to prove it. I want someone who has loved and lost. I want someone who has experienced at least a taste of what the world offers. Someone who has traveled enough to understand that not everyone is like us, yet has spent enough time at home to remain grounded.

This is the main reason I just don't see myself with a younger woman. I don't see how a much younger woman could maintain my interest for more than 90 minutes.

21) Sexually uninhibited. I'm talking frequent hot, sweaty, monkey sex that curls my toes.

Yeah, I left the best for last.

How Long Is Long Enough?

Let's talk about dating. I haven't been on a real date in almost 18 years. And by real date, I mean where the outcome wasn't predetermined. Sure, people go on dates with their spouses, but I'm not talking about (nor interested in) that.

What I'm talking about is a forced meeting with a total stranger where you try your best to make a good impression and not come off as a total gozer or phony. I realize that I am not a classically handsome man. I'm rather average. Not Steve Buscemi ugly, but not the guy that makes the ladies swoon either. My best traits are probably that I'm dependable, responsible and respectful. Great for a Boy Scout or your best friend, but hardly the recipe to charm one's panties off.

I've been single almost three months and I'm starting to be intrigued by the idea of dating, but I can't shake the feeling that it would be 'unfaithful' or 'wrong'. Based on the evidence at hand, my wife certainly doesn't share that opinion, but a promise is a promise, right? It's not the sex that bothers me either. It's the idea of any romantic entanglement that seems like some vague type of betrayal. 

This might be a good time for me to refer back to the title of the blog - LETTING GO? Excuse me while I read my previous post on this very topic.

Thanks, I'm back.

I'm think I'm looking for some outside validation that dating is okay. There should be some authority (Miss Manners, Dear Abby, the Pope) that provides specific, well defined guidance. Sort of like "One should not wear white after Labor Day." Is one week for each year of marriage too short? One month for each year?

I'm not sure I want to be celibate that long.

Like I have a say in the matter? I feel sorry for the first woman who says 'yes'.

I asked Best Friend Brian about this and his advice was pretty straightforward.

"When do you think it's okay for me to start dating?"

 "No."

"What?"

"No."

"But you didn't..."

"No."

I still have no idea.

My friends tell me "You'll know when the time is right." I'm pretty sure this actually means that they don't want to talk about my non-existent sex life and simply want me to go away. Who could blame them? I don't even want to talk about this stuff - it's why I started this stupid blog.

Prior to meeting my wife I was pretty much inept around women. When I see guys I would characterize as 'players' I am somewhat in awe of their ability to say whatever is required to close the deal. I have trouble pretending to be someone I am not. I'm also a really terrible liar. I was at a bar last week with Caprini having a beer - and avoiding going home to my soon to be ex-wife. Caprini is a little older than me and a little better looking and was totally hitting on our bartender (who was 23). Now granted, this girl (and if you're 23, to me you are a 'girl', sorry ladies) works for tips and has to be nice to guys like my friend.  But the thing was, even though he was probably twice her age, I got the vibe that if he really wanted to, he could have 'bought her breakfast'.

I was appalled. Probably because I'm a Boy Scout. But I would prefer women who are closer to my own age, if I get a choice.

When I was younger I was also incapable of picking up on clues from women as to their inclinations. If an opportunity could be missed, I was there. Do any of you remember the classic 1991 Seinfeld episode "The Phone Message"? That was me. Literally, upon seeing the episode one of my friends called me.

Click here to see a clip from the episode!

"Hey, remember that chick Heather who invited you to her apartment for coffee after the Homecoming party?"

"Yeah."

"And you said 'No thanks, coffee keeps me up'?"

"Yeah."

"Jerry Seinfeld just ripped you off."

There was also the time when a cute (really cute, actually) friend from Speaker's Board called to tell me she had just stepped out of the shower and thought there was a prowler in her apartment. I believe her name was Jennifer.

"I'm scared. I think there's someone here."

"Um, why are you calling me? Shouldn't you be calling the police?"

"Well, I'm not sure. Can't you come over and check?"

"I could, but in the ten minutes it'll take for me to get there you could be raped and killed. You should really call the cops."

"Please? I'm only wearing a towel."

"Okay, fine. But if you get killed it's not my fault."

*** That's pretty much the exact conversation. No shit. Brian was there. ***


I doubt my closing skills have improved in the last eighteen years, but perhaps middle aged women are more desperate or easy since they are so much closer to death. I can only hope. If you know any desperate or easy single women, please send them my contact info. I'm free Monday through Thursday, but I'll make time on the weekends.

Just don't tell Best Friend Brian.