My Second Worst Break Up

I'd love to give this one a fancy title, but here in this blogger land I'm realizing the titles that are more explicit...well they lead to more reads.
If I were to give it another title I might call it:
Love After Divorce
but see, I wasn't technically officially divorced yet. I was just separated. And: Love After Separation doesn't really sound all that great.
See, really what it was, was:
My Second Worst Break Up

and so much more.

If you read here at all you may remember that I met someone on my very second post-marriage date.
And here I will call that someone PE.

PE I've written another story about, a story that's a little more emotional, a little more juicy, a little more revealing...to publish under my pseudonym someday! With my other stories. That you may or may not ever get to read.

This story for here, though, for you, like the juicier one, begins 4 years and a bit ago. On a dating site.
I'd only met one other person from a dating site at that time, which I wrote about on another post, so...I hadn't become too cynical just yet. I was pretty open minded. In fact, I was so open minded that I decided to carry on a dating site conversation with someone living not here--but near Seattle. After all, that's where I'd moved from.

But really? Three kids and an ex-partner in Vancouver? No car? And I decide to date someone near Seattle?

In the end it wasn't the physical distance that took it to a break up, My Second Worst Break Up. It was the, shall we say, social distance. Ha! Ok, emotional distance might be more accurate. But, you know. Timely.

So we'd been having dating site conversations for a bit, that had gone on longer and longer and longer. Then we'd progressed to email, even! Ooooooooooooh! So personal!
We'd given each other our real names, and the implied permission to look those names up. The mystery was intriguing!

Exchanges hinting around meeting each other, him showing me around where he lived, taking me places...all that was adding to the excitement. Until one Saturday we both found ourselves completely free and and and.....
oh hell,

I'm going to just put some (ok, edited!) excerpts from my juicier story here,
for this part,
cause it really tells it, and I'll never give you my pseuodynm:

So.........
So.........

            For a couple of weeks we messaged each other  All the while he dropped hints about me visiting him in ________, “When you come here, I’ll show you”, he’d say.  Nevermind the fact that we were 3 hours apart, I have 3 young children, and I don’t own a car.  “The way I see it,” he said, “life just gets more complicated the older you get.” I had questioned his surety that we should even try to meet, knowing all the hurdles.  My heart had slunk a bit in disappointment when, after I read his jaw dropping profile, I saw he lived in ________.  But, so far that wasn’t stopping us.

             By the time it was the 4th of July, I had fallen hard.  He told me, “I’ll just be doing what most Americans do on the 4th, driving around in my pick-up truck shooting off my guns.” Oh, how I laughed at that! From that day on, only a week or less after our virtual meeting, I was hooked.  He took up a prominent place in my mind.  I kept up with messaging other people, just in case, but PE is who I thought about.  Where was my ex in all of this? Buried in the recesses of my mind.  Nowhere to be seen, really.  Except for as a blatant reminder of what I wanted so desperately to escape from.  PE seemed my savior. The polar opposite to what I’d grown accustomed to.

            A few more days of messaging, of finding out more about our interests, and where we live, and uncovering each other’s personalities, we exchanged phone numbers.  He asked me if I “wanted his particulars” so I could look him up and make sure he was legit.  I told him coyly, “Yes, I’ll take your particulars. Want mine?” Messaging turned to emailing turned to texting.  (As I mentioned above!) It all went very fast, in the online dating world of things.

            Meanwhile, my ex and I had established a new routine.  Every Saturday night he’d take the kids for a sleep over until Sunday evening.  PE and I had made plans to meet in person in about 3 weeks when I’d be down in Seattle anyway.  As much as I was totally head over heels already, I didn’t want him thinking I was too eager.  I figured we’d meet up near my friend’s place, for an afternoon coffee or something.  That way if it didn’t go well, we wouldn’t have wasted too much of each other’s time.  It seemed sensible, and was what all my well meaning friends and family suggested.  Sure, I consulted the internet on this too.  I didn’t want to end up in some awkward, repulsive, or--worse yet--dangerous situation!

            “That’s so far away!” PE expressed.  Well, this was good.  I was keeping him waiting.  Keeping him interested.  Isn’t that what the woman was supposed to be doing anyway? I empathized, but I didn’t budge.

            ...until one of those Saturdays.  Shortly after July 4th, PE texted me for the first time, having just gotten my number the day before. 

            He was so friendly! So upbeat! So full of exclamation points and smiley faces! But not in an annoying way.  It was perfect.

            A few short exchanges and we realized we were both free that night.  He suggested we meet at a halfway point, like ________.  I hesitated, saying I wasn’t usually spontaneous, and could wait till our already agreed upon date.  “Let’s be semi-spontaneous; I can leave here at 7.  Where does that put you and where does that put me?” he wrote.

            I remember it all so clearly.  I had just left my kids at the park with their dad, and was walking home so free, and so *I’m my own woman, what shall I get up to tonight?* These messages, these plans, left me walking the rest of the way home with such a beam, such a glow, such a floating on air feeling. 

            I chose an outfit, once home, booked a co-op car, and got my passport.  My red vintage linen shirt, some tight and flattering jeans, and strappy sandals--yes--that would do.  He was only the second date I’d been on (as I mentioned above!), but I knew I wanted to pull out some good stops.  I felt pretty sassy, pretty cute, pretty sexy--if I do say so myself.  (Ha!) That feeling of confidence only grew as I got my car and headed south.

            It was all very surreal.  I was incredulous at the turn of events as I drove.  What would it be like? What was happening to me? How did I get into this exciting situation? What were all these good feelings? What was this sense of anticipation about? Was I crazy? Was he going to murder me? Was he going to be fat and bald and boring? Would I die in a car crash just driving down there, leaving my children motherless with a loving, but very troubled, father?

            These were the thoughts.  So self absorbed.  But, what else is there, really? Seeing myself as a character in a movie was something I often did to detach from reality--in this movie I was a beleaguered and bedraggled recovering co-dependent, a now single mother of 3 little ones, driving across to the border to meet a man. If anything, this’d be a great story someday, I thought.

            Going thru the border it was so fun telling the agent why I was leaving Canada: “To meet a man”, it rolled off my tongue so smoothly, so sexily, so womanly indeed! (Ha!) Then I put my passport away and zoomed on thru.  “I’m feelin’ the freedom!” I texted PE.  Yes, that’d make him laugh.  It made me laugh too.  That’s what I was realizing I loved so much, already, about this relationship-not only was he so funny--but so was I! I really enjoyed making myself laugh!

            I had a little trouble taking the right exit once I found ________.  PE texted me very helpful things while I got myself unturned around--for a short while the nervousness wore off as I guarded myself against looking too terrible with directions! What kind of air headed bimbo impression was I giving off anyway! Get it together, Megan!

            I found the exit.  I drove thru town, scouring the streets for my man.  I saw someone on the sidewalk alternating between looking at his phone and kind of looking around.  Oh no, I thought, that’s what you get.  Of course this is all a hoax. This man I noticed was short, and portly, and dressed far too sportily, and didn’t look at all like a swimmer.  I’d been fooled! Stupid.  Stupid.  Stupid.  Well, at least I wasn’t getting murdered, or raped.  Yet.

            Oh--wait! There he was! Sigh-sigh-sigh-sigh.  Exhale.  There he was.  Just as he should be.

Anyway! The rest of the date was good. Haha, GREAT! Even. Geesh!!!

And...it's in that story that I'll self publish under a pseudonym someday. Ha! 

The rest of the date was so good that it led to about 5 months of long distance romance. 

A "summer romance" as a friend of mine said. Made me youthful again! I know, sounds so cliche. But, 'twas true.

           

This is supposed to be about a break up, though.

???

But hey, let's not dwell on the negative too much. We'll get there.

What did this romance(!) involve? This romance with this tall, handsome, hilarious, quirky, smart, professional, wealthy, older man? And--what in the world, you say, why didn't you stay together?

(Ohhhhh how glad I am that we didn't.

That's how it goes, sometimes, isn't it?)

Let me tell you more! More reasons you'll think--why didn't you stay together?

Well I had no car, but when I have a will I have a way. So, like I mentioned earlier, I utilized the car shares we have up here, and we sometimes would meet half way places for hours-long dates and drive-arounds in his fancy BMW (he had two of them!), or he'd come here, to Vancouver, while the kids stayed with their dad. The first time he came here he took me for a hotel stay. Wow was that special!

I always remember feeling a little guilty when it was time to see him, guilty because of all the anticipation I felt wanting to get out of here as FAST as possible! To forget I was a mom, to forget I'd been married, to forget about it all, to escape into that summer romance. That new youth of me! That guilt was worth it, and--I realized--just an unnecessary torture I allowed. You know, how we do.

Let me tell you more! Especially about when I'd go to his place. His nice BIG home! Full of fancy, natural, organic foods. So clean, so peaceful, so tastefully decorated. 

And the records! The music! That's what really brought us together I think.

He'd prepare a beautiful meal, we'd have a couple of drinks, we'd eat and listen to records on the love seat in the little music room. For hours. And we'd hold hands and I'd just lean my head on his shoulder and close my eyes and take it all in.

He was a swimmer so we'd swim, we'd go out, that kind of thing too. But it was the records that got me. It was the music. It was the reminder of who I was again. Someone young (still!) someone fun someone light someone smiley someone ME again. It was the reminder of how tenderly I could love someone. 

Or, at least love the idea of someone. Or, love the experience of someone. 

That's where it all broke down, really.

Because I couldn't figure out if it was him, or the experience, that I was in love with. And, this man had been single for almost a decade--after marriage--and all his relationships had been long distance. And all he did was keep me at a distance. Physically apart, that was manageable, but--even when we were together. He kept me far from him.

It wasn't personal. I know that.

We all do things to protect ourselves. That was his thing. And I can handle certain versions of people's "things" but this thing proved to be too much for me.

After many conversations where I asked for more! Not more time together, not more "commitment" (we'd had that from the first night we met) not more adventures, not more fairness in visits...just more of HIM! Because I wanted the experience to last. And he'd become so dear to me.

But really, what was I going to do? MOVE there?

Nope.

Have a long distance relationship indefinitely?

No thanks.

Was he gonna move HERE? Help me raise my kids?

Ha!

So you weigh the options, you weigh what you're getting out of it, you weigh what you want, you push and push and push (if you're me...remember where there's a will there's a way, I say?) and you try to make it work. You try to make the person someone they're not!

For the music, the car rides, the re-discovered me who I wanted to stay, the summer romance of it all. Ohhhhhhhhh but that...
...that always turns into fall anyway. If it lasts.

Then what?

Sometimes the person pretends for you. To avoid the pain of reality.

But this man didn't do that. So, the pain of reality had to slam the romance to a halt.

On our last visit together, for US Thanksgiving, I felt that distance thing so much from him. And I tried for more, I tried to cut through it, but I couldn't. The records were no longer enough.

I came home, I got my hair cut nice and short (it's like I knew what would be happening next!) and I sent him more pleas for more. And he told me bluntly it wouldn't work. That he couldn't give me those things. And that I deserved those things I wanted. And he didn't want me to be unsatisifed or feel indefinitely dismissed because of his own shortcomings. 

And he basically accepted my ultimatum of sorts---more or...
---and it was...over.

I was at work, on a break, when I checked my phone. I had been waiting and waiting and waiting and waiting to hear from him! Hear him tell me he would try harder! He could be what I needed! He wanted to be what I needed! And then I saw...

he couldn't. It was...

...over.

But where there's a will there's a way! Remember?

So I tried to convince him (again)...
......and then I tried another strategy: I tried to back off my requests, minimize them. 

But he knew; he knew I was only lying to myself, while he was being truthful to us both.

It would never work.

I sobbed home that day, on my bike. Ugly crying! You know the type. Snot wiping tears streaming audible sobs people staring I don't care you try to be me right now kind of sobbing! Not the first or last time I'd done that. Absolutely driven mad by grief, by hitting this wall I wanted so badly to break through.

For what? 

I don't know.

Maybe what I was really worried about was that I'd lose the self I'd re-discovered with him!

I'm telling you it was my second worst break up. It reminded me of that first worst break up in so many ways, the one I wrote about before.  The pain, the feeling like I'd just been punched all over inside and had to pretend I was ok...for work, for my kids, for life. 

But I could barely eat. I lost so much weight.

I could barely get up in the mornings.

I could barely do anything.

And it was nearing Christmas.

My kids saw me cry through that, in a short period of time, more than they ever saw me cry about my marriage. As I've said before, that was an ongoing issue that often I just powered through or felt numb about. Tears over that will sprinkle thru the rest of my life.

This was different.

This brought up part of the pain of my marriage ending--in a new way, it brought up the pain of my former break ups, the pain of all I felt I'd been through and re-gained and lost and been tricked about and sabotaged in my own way. It was the tears of all the sadness.

Sometimes that what our tears are. The tears of all the sadness.

Another chance to process it and cleanse it all for, for a re-fresh, a re-set. 

I went walking with a friend during that time. As I mentioned, I'd been barely eating so I didn't have much energy. All I could talk about was this situation. I looked at people around me and wondered how they could be smiling or enjoying anything. I felt so alone in my pain, even though I knew it was a universal feeling.
I felt like it would never end.

My dad came to visit for Christmas. I let the kids watch far too much TV. (I will never be able to watch the movie "Frosty the Snowman" in the same way without thinking of this time...!) All I could do was talk about it, think about it, wade through the days to the night time when I could try and shut it all off again. Watch it retreat slowly but surely into my past, where it would be safer. 

To PE I tried to communicate still, but he took a much more strict (and in hindsight helpful) approach: he cut off all contact with me.

So I wrote him a letter. A handwritten letter that I'm surprised didn't have tears all over! Ha!

I have a copy of the letter, because I took a picture of the pages and pages of it, before the envelope and the mail person carried it away. I didn't want to forget what I wrote! As embarrassing, and yes--still sad--as it is now. I won't look at it for this, but I do remember ending it with something about how..."PE, if we both end up old and alone, then I hope we can come together and still listen to records while we hold hands and I lay my head on your shoulder, so you don't have to be taken care of by robots." Cause that was a fear of his, growing old alone with no one to take care of him but robots.

........................................................................................

He never wrote back. He never even told me when he received it.

I finally got it out of him months later, hoping for a conversation about it, but there was no conversation.

His way of facing the pain was to cut it off, what's done is done, too painful for both of us otherwise.

He did say he knew we'd always, always be friends, though.
I know that's sometimes the worst thing to hear after a break up! But it wasn't, in this case.

Cause I knew he was right. And anyway, he had a large collection of friends, so it only seemed natural. Less pressure that way I think! 

We wouldn't be the kind of friends who connect very often, just the kind of friends who remembered we shared something, something that wasn't sustainable, and that we forgive each other for all that, and move on with life. Every so often he will send me a funny message or ask how I'm doing. Out of nowhere! Sometimes when really bad stuff has happened. Almost like he knows. 

He's the only person from my romantic past who does that.

It's nice.

It's not painful anymore. I know why we didn't work out. 

I'm glad we didn't work out!

And it didn't take me as long to recover as that first worst break up did.

Cause I'd been through it before. I felt it just as deeply, but I moved out of it much more easily.

I mean really, what was I going to do? MOVE there?

Nope.

Have a long distance relationship indefinitely?

No thanks.

Was he gonna move HERE? Help me raise my kids?

Ha!

I mean really, what was I gonna do? Ignore my gut? Live a lie?

Nooooooo.

Life isn't perfect, relationships aren't perfect. But that thing with him taught me so much. 

He gave me a gift. He helped me see who I was again. He helped me see what I wanted again. What would be good for me. 

No...I haven't been perfect at finding that, I still make mistakes. And I still cut people some slack, cause that's also what we're supposed to do. While they cut us slack!

What happened with PE led me down a path of learning and healing and that took me to where I am today. Even if it isn't always as heavy of an idea as

---My Second Worst Break Up---

well, it's nice to view life like that. Paths of learning and healing in the aftermath of the things.

In times like this current world crisis we might say, "Where are the helpers?" I love that idea.

Be one, find one--like all the people who helped me through this second worst break up, and especially the friend I walked with, and my dad.

In times like this current world crisis we might say

also,
"What can we learn?" 

This story of PE and I, however brief, is one I will always keep close to me.

It was an amazing experience! And it taught me so much about myself and love and life. 

It taught me what I wanted. 

It taught me more of what I already knew about superficial things like money and appearances and stuff like that. 

It taught me about the power of music. 

It taught me that new pain brings back old pain. 

It taught me that with each new pain I have more new tools to deal with it. 

It taught me, again, that I can recover. 

It taught me the power of the ones we leave behind physically, that stay in our hearts forever, and can live side by side with the new ones who are here now.

And practically a day doesn't go by where I look at what I have now, where I'm at now, and I remind myself how grateful I am that I had  

My Second Worst Break Up

.

The End