Alone. Such a singular word that shouts volumes. Yet, it is by choice that this word becomes my favorite these days. Try as I might to forge a semblance of what could be construed as a relationship, epic fail predominates my attempts.
Rewind to August, 2012. A full year passed since my husband chose the single life, citing a weary excuse, "This just isn't what I imagined," after seventeen years of marriage. I felt stable enough to venture into the dating world at that point. Problem being, I lived in a small town; never socialized. Peers nonexistent in such a small pond.
Several times I'd see "pop-ups" in my email advertising Match.com. If not on the Internet, then the commercials on television. I watched tons of television back then, having lived in a lifeless town. The intrigue drew me in, and one fateful night after two margaritas, I decided to take the plunge and join the Match.com swamp.
Like chum spread upon shark infested waters, the replies became endless and overwhelming. Since I had invested a tidy sum (something in the vicinity of $29.00), I felt it worth the effort to answer the call (men on Match.com similar to the siren at sea calling to lost sailors).
Messages filled my inbox. Offers of "Meet me for coffee," and the occasional, "You seem like my soul mate; meet me in Tahiti," came in a continuous flood. Bewildering. Yet, the draw of mutual desperation too strong to deny, I made a connection.
He was fabulous! MY DREAM COME TRUE! I could not get enough of this man. He was everything my ex wasn't. Total opposite.
Too good to be true. Yes. Three months in, and the true colors dripped in like a badly tie-died shirt. Denial followed. He was, after all, my perfect match.
Who was desperate? ME? Well, it happens. Time passed. We fell in love; fell out of love. I swore off men. He returned to Match.com for the shark's feast.
Me? I spent time alone. Tended to my dog and cat. My life as I saw fit. But loneliness is a strong drain. Months passed since my original Match.com debacle, and I became chum again.
Cupid's arrow struck at the behest of Match.com, splitting my heart. Fireworks! This man was everything prior Match.com mate was not. He was intellectual. Heart felt. Polite. Within a month I was "in love."
Alas, it too rotted. Demands too strong. Blindsided by the lust. He broke my heart like no other.
Fast forward to the present. I am alone. I spend my time working and hanging out with my dog and cat. We are happy. Yet, a part of me yearns for my true love. My soul mate.
It is human nature to live in groups, I believe. It is human nature to be in a coupling so that when that last breath comes, there is someone to share it. Shark infested waters no longer interest me, for I have found it is the desperate who lurk within choppy waters waiting for the chum. To date, both my Match.com soul mates dove back into the swirling waters of Match within weeks of kicking me to the shore.
Bullets dodged, the Universe has bigger plans for me. I am the victor. Lessons learned: PRICELESS. I have found it's the internal happiness that draws external happiness.
As I sit here alone on another Saturday night, I feel peaceful. Funny how that happens.
Here's to my perfect internal and eternally happy soul mate, wherever and whomever. Cheers!
1 comment:
When I was single, I found myself happily datable and dated a lot, each time breaking things off when the guy proposed after only a few dates, sometimes even on the first. I was in no hurry to jump back into marriage. But the most fun I had with my singlehood, was to join the local singles groups: PWPs and New Horrizons. There were others. I just don't recall their names. The thing is, I also had fun things to do with people who were in similar situation in their lives, and I didn't have to date any of them to do it. I really miss those days sometimes. Being happily married now has somehow translated to MUCH smaller social circle. But I guess it's just one way or the other for some of us.
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