Ok, no I don’t.
I love it.
I frickin’ LOVE it.
Its like the best part of my day.
I TOLD YOU SO, ASSHOLES!
Ok, okay…I’m being kinda salty. I know it’s not nice to be so haughty! But I just love it when I can finally have a man admit that I’m right. And this time, all y’all…I got it in WRITING! Did you hear that? I actually got it in writing! Wowza. I had a very dear friend of mine send me a blog post admitting it! Yup, you heard me. He sent me an entry, and said that my advice …was good. It was good, and correct. And that he should have listened to me when we met for coffee, oh so long ago. He should have taken my RELATIONSHIP advice, y’all. I am like, really good at this shit! Toot, toot.
So, with his permission…I am going to post his story.
Not only does it capture my amazingness…(toot!)
But this man happens to be a fantastic writer. He has been published before, and I am quite flattered that he is even gracing my presence. I mean, really. He is stooping way low for this The Truth Hurvitz, shit. So, with no further ado-do…here it is! And just remember…
I hate to say, “I told you so!” (not really!)
When I first spoke with this Blogs eponymous Hurvitz I was hoping for a date. Id found her profile on a dating site. We chatted. It was fun so I suggested a meeting. She knew that I was recently separated and making my first foray into dating. She declined. “Oh no, you’re too fresh. You need to work through the craziness and the kid in a candy store phase.” She concluded, “You need to get your heart broken first!”
I took her statements as either the sage voice of a veteran of the dating wars or as a kindly framed rejection. I had begun to consider dating about six months after my wife had made our separation official by moving out. Online services seemed like the most efficient way to proceed so I jumped in. I’d been on a half dozen meetings (calling something that feels like a job interview a date hardly seems appropriate). They were all fine. No sparks, no magic but some fun, some new friends and thankfully no horror stories. None had morphed into a relationship.
The sun is shining everywhere, but I can’t find a ray – Sugar 1995
I had a number of fears and insecurities when I started. Dating at 50 was an unsettling idea. I worried about everything; my looks, my intelligence, my fitness level, my income, my kids were younger than a lot of women my own age might want to deal with. The list included anything you might reasonably or unreasonably expect. Strangely though, the one thing I had no fear of was heartbreak. What could ever feel worse than the dissolution of a sixteen-year marriage to the mother of my beloved sons? I had experiential immunity. Like emotional chicken pox – once you’ve had the core of your romantic being shattered you’re protected for life, right?
That April I reached out to a woman in my pool of potential matches. She had a very clever, slightly sarcastic profile. Her pictures were stunning. We went quickly through the communication protocol; messages, texts, finally phone calls. It was fun and charming and flirty (sickeningly close to a 1990s vintage Tom Hanks/Meg Ryan badinage). We agreed to meet within a week of our first contact. I won’t mention her name. Her initials are C.R.Y. No joke, CRY. (That sound you may hear is the runaway express bus to Ironyville bearing down on my clueless figure standing astride Desolation Boulevard.)
Thank you for the lightning that shoots up and sparkles in the rain – Simple Minds 1984
We agreed to meet for dinner at a nice wine bar. I arrived early as is my penchant, borne both out of the chivalrous notion that a lady should never have to wait for a gentleman to arrive and a not insignificant bit of anti- tardiness OCD. I scanned the parking lot and finally spied her approaching. I say this with not one ounce of hyperbole, I knew we were going to click before she even said a word. It was instant and total and made every atom of my being vibrate. The evening proceeded like it was scripted. There was serious conversation and humor and wine and finally a knee buckling series of kisses. Perfection.
This wasn’t supposed to happen, I was happy by myself. Accidently, you seduced me, I’m in love again. – Sugarcubes 1992
The next 4 months were a happy blur. We spent as much time as we could together. She was going through a series of major transitions with her divorce nearing finalization, selling a house, buying a house, moving, preparing a child to go off to college. It was hectic but we still made time to enjoy both the exciting and the mundane. I didn’t care what was involved I just wanted to be together. I dove deep back into the feeling of being someone’s emotional sounding board and providing any kind of assistance she required. She helped me expand in terms of venturing out and experiencing life. It was amazing.
Until it wasn’t.
Remember when you cry cry cry. Your heart out, I did mine – Roxy Music 1979
We celebrated my birthday in august with a nice dinner out. We caught a movie the next day as it was my weekend without my boys. That was the last time I ever saw her. We chatted and texted over the next few days. She had plans with her kids over the labor day weekend so I didn’t want to intrude with excessive communication. Sunday morning, she texted words to the effect that she understood that I was letting her go and it was best because she had come to realize that there were too many obstacles to rationally continuing our relationship.
Now you just say oh Romeo yeah you know I used to have a scene with him – Dire Straits 1980
That’s when it happened. The sorrow, the emptiness, the soul sucking depression. My immunity theory was debunked in an instant. This hurt worse than anything I’d ever imagined. It was the psychic sniper shot. I felt the burning of the bullet wound before it even heard the rifle report. Unlike the end of my marriage I hadn’t had the benefit of seeing months of predictive decay. This was bliss to agony in a nanosecond.
So what’s my point in this ramble?
There are actually two things to take away.
One, I have come to believe through my own experience and by listening to the sad stories of my divorced brothers and sisters in angst that the first time you put yourself out there and become completely vulnerable the end of that new relationship will be at least as, and perhaps more, painful than the dissolution of your long term marriage.
Second, and for the purposes of this blog more significant, Jen was freakin right! Go forth, live, laugh and risk it all time after time, but check with her if you get confused.
Now, Ladies…if you want to know who this FABU man is, hit me up! He’s darhling with a CAPITAL D! And he’s been through his first heartbreak. Oh, and he can admit when he’s wrong! What a keeper! ;)