Category Archives: breakups

Feb25

High On Me.

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I ate my feelings two weeks ago for the first time in my lifetime. It was the equivalent of one full pint of Hagen-Dazs coffee ice cream (as if there’s any other option) over a Criminal Minds episode and no fucks given. About that decision, at least. Can’t say the same about the event leading up to it, though.

I blame my boss for jinxing me: A couple days before, I had off-handedly mentioned to my boss, “well it’s this or The Bachelor.” He seems to find my dating life hilarious. At this point, I do, too. I’m not sure what had brought the topic up but he was definitely against the idea despite my telling him it would be free publicity for the company. And I’m not sure why it came up because Lord knows I’d never agree to such a thing—dating a guy who is dating 24 other women. I might watch the show and have for years—it makes me feel sane!—but I would never subject myself to such treatment. 1) I don’t get along with most women. 2) I’d end up committed in an insane asylum or wearing orange for the rest of my life. 3) I’m not that sociable. 4) Not trying to be famous—I go by a penname! 5) I don’t do airplanes. 6) I prefer to think that if a guy likes me, he’s not going to make out with some other chick 3 minutes later. No thank you, I’ve got a little bit more self-respect than that would require.

Moving on.

I know I’m a smart girl, I don’t need the affirmation, but my god am I a fool. Trending: me finding guys who don’t respect me. That night of the Hagen-Dazs tongue drowning marked yet another episode of getting stood up. I had passed double digits sometime back in early fall. It was a low low despite expecting little. Also trending: me getting stood up.

It’s hard not to make the jump and wonder what is wrong (yes, I’ve wrote about this before & more in-depth) but it was more than that. It was the accumulation of consistently putting myself out there, being the one who travels the 40-90 minutes to meet a guy (one way) only for the guy to be a complete asshole within a couple days.

The being lied to—an implication of complete disrespect—constantly by different guys has drained me. That’s the part: consistently, by multiple guys. It’s made me question my ability to read guys. How do I keep putting myself out there? How can I continue to believe any guy in the future? I try like hell not to bring previous fears and issues into any dating and relationships, but my god is it difficult.

And my god do I have the worst guy radar.

A couple days later I spent 48 hours or so in bed sick. Talk about forcing you to live in your head. The worst part of being sick is how it can trigger overthinking. Naturally, I got to sleeping, but then I got to a whole hell of a lot of thinking when I couldn’t sleep no more.

A lot.

Too much.

And I realized I don’t want to date. I’m so sick of guys, so turned off by everything, the idea of dating is depressing. A nightmare. A clusterfuck.

A living hell.

I’m at a point where I don’t believe promises and hate making plans with a guy. I make back-ups. Half the time I don’t even plan on someone watching Evelynn.

Yeah, definitely think I’m done.

I want more kids but after everything that’s gone down with Evelynn’s dad, I’m not sure I want a man beside me in the future. (Lord Jesus, please don’t let me be crazy.) It’s not that I want to make a career out of being a single mom, the hardships and loneliness are a total drag some days and nights, but I would choose to stick with my fierce independence for a lifetime than be mistreated for three seconds.

Enter our company meeting one week after the piglet episode, where we were asked to come up with at least one personal goal and one professional goal. I love my daughter, I love my career, but I’m not in love with where I’m at in life. So I got to thinking about becoming a fucking ninja at social media and creative and marketing, and how I could set myself up for making the whole single mom thing work really well.

And then I kicked ass all week.

A coworker kept asking me why I was smiling—I was happy. I stopped trying. I got off the dating sites—flipped those fuckers the bird. (Seriously, why do guys think it’s okay to be entirely inappropriate. I could gag.) I put everything this week into three things: Evelynn, work, health (fitness).

It’s weird. I’ve been on a high all week and it has everything to do with me. It’s true what they say: fall in love with you and your life. Maybe the rest will come but I’ve got other dreams to chase, dating can catch up to me later.

Jan24

Fact: You ARE Heroic.

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Recently I read a remark “there’s nothing heroic about handling shit alone” in regards to being a single mom. I didn’t know heroism had limitations.

It’s true, I’m a single mom. It’s not exactly something I can get around by simply snapping my fingers and making my ideal man suddenly appear at my side. I’m single and a mom. Fact. Therefore, I am a single mom. Fact. I didn’t create those labels but I’d be lying if I said I don’t wear them with pride. The alternative would be to settle and I refuse to set that example for my daughter. I would rather be a single mom handling shit alone than in a loveless relationship where the guy handled shit for me. I refuse to be with guys who don’t understand the meaning of a partnership, the value of walking beside me rather than tugging me along. I didn’t wake up one morning and decide to do it alone because I thought it was “cool.” I decided I was going to do it alone because the alternative was unimaginable. 

It amazes me how easily we judge; the stay at home mom, the working mom, the single mom. It amazes me how quick we label. It amazes me how righteously we compare. We should be empowering. And for the record, none is better than any of the others.

One of the hardest things I’ve had to learn to overcome is people will judge me for my situation. I had a baby out of wedlock. I lost friends who thought they knew the story of my relationship—they didn’t. I had an ex who thought I handled it all wrong—again, I didn’t. I have been with guys since who have  had quite a boisterous opinion of how I should deal with my ex. There will always be some noise from people who think they know how you should handle your life better than you—it’s just noise. I think mistakes are the greatest educational tool. And independence is the trademark for allowing you to become who you are–and that’s a sweet melody, when you finally learn your tune.

I woke up one morning needing a hero. It was the new year (literally) and as the cliché went, the new year called for a new me. When I needed a hero I became my own. And I sought to become my daughter’s until she becomes her own. I want her to be her own hero one day. There’s no limit to the number of heroes one can have.

There is something entirely heroic about handling things on your own but it’s also entirely courageous to allow yourself to be vulnerable in asking for help when you need it. Nobody can say which is better. Nobody has the right to judge you. I just wish you this:

Be strong enough to stand alone

but have the courage

to allow someone to walk beside you.

 

Oct13

Tulips In Springtime.

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The past year has been one long lesson in dating, with September marking the one-year anniversary of my reentering the dating world. My single mom status led my daughter to be assumed as “baggage” by a number of guys (assholes!), easiest method of knowing not to give them my time. My single mom status also led to plenty of guys getting “cold feet” at the last minute, canceling the night before or the day of a date, only to never be heard from. Again, quick method of determining who was worth my time, I just wish I hadn’t wasted the time leading up to that point. Then there’s the guys who assume because I have a child, I’m quick to bed. Honey, I’m not desperate—I’m borderline shallow.

Clarification: entering into the world of online dating.

Six sites I have done stints on in the past year, and most of them didn’t last a week as the blocking of assholes became too much of a hassle. Tinder, the notorious hookup site, was downloaded and deleted monthly. Weekly I swore off guys. And weekly my high standards inched higher.

What happened when a guy called up a girl? Being asked out in a text message is so unflattering, almost degrading. And can someone please explain to me why guys want to “hang out” but then refer to it as “dating” later on? Like no, dude, two totally different phenomenons there. I know, I don’t sound like I just turned 27 yesterday. This is the norm, & completely unacceptable to me, to many. Then why do we accept it? Go with it? Allow for it?

What happened to chivalry? Dave Chappelle thought women killed it and Meg Ryan believed it simply caught the flu. I think it hides in shadows like abandoned, trapped flies.

Last weekend I went on a date and it blew my mind when the guy held open my door. Every time. It’s a lost art but it wasn’t lost on me, not when I nearly asked him what he was doing—I thought he had to rearrange shit or was simply out of it. (Awkward turtle.) It’s sad when such an act, one many fail to do for strangers—we should!—is lost in a world where kind acts need to thrive. What happened to the simple “hello good mornings” and “goodnights”? Those have always been a favorite in dating but rarely appear throughout the entire relationship. They eventually get swept under the rug with everything else. After the first impression has been made, why do people slack on the simple things? Relationships are often made and kept over the little things—it’s the little things that will also often begin to drive the wedge into the relationship.

Male or female, reentering the dating world is always ripe with fear and concerns. With each ex, I learned something about myself, what I’m not willing to put up with, how I want to be treated, and what I deserve. And it has also added up to a mountain of trust issues and second-guessing the guy’s intentions.

I have always jumped into relationships, letting the guy choose the pace—fitting considering my nonchalant attitude of going with the flow, but that only lasts until I realize we aren’t on the same page. I’ve been with the guy who wanted me to commit, for us to be exclusive, only to find out the beginning was an act or the same rules didn’t apply to him—he had needs I couldn’t fulfil due to distance, I couldn’t expect him to do the same, according to him. But I don’t do cheaters. I don’t do second chances.

The disrespect and “not good enough” that comes with cheating is mind-fucking. If they remembered you, you weren’t enough to keep them from performing the act. If they did remember you, you didn’t mean enough to keep them from performing the act. It’s a lose-lose. The hilarious part is when they use the former as an excuse. Thank you for telling me how little of significance I rank in your life.

I stayed with Evelynn’s father longer than I should have. It was another relationship battling distance, among a slew of other issues. I lost myself. I compromised too easily and lost my identity, what I wanted. I settled for settling. It was over before it ended. When it did, I went off the grid for nine months. Then I jumped into a relationship with a guy and once again sidelined what I wanted and needed in a relationship to be happy. It only lasted through the holidays but afterwards, I went off the grid again.

I compromise myself in dating.

I find myself in solitude.

It’s a trend.

Correction: it was a trend.

Dating is harsh. It’s constantly opening myself up to heartbreak and re-erecting walls when they confirm my fears, only to be the one to demolish them again if I want to make an effort. It’s exhausting and draining. It’s empowering when I remember I control my happiness—it’s ultimately my decision to allow a guy in. I control my own happiness. I dictate my future.

Dating might be degrading and harsh but I also learn my strength, the heartbreak I can take.

We aren’t made of glass to shatter on the floor, prick others to bleed with us. We aren’t rock, to stand still and lie doormat, to crack and be irreparable. No, we are tulips. We soak up the sunshine and take beatings from rainstorms, bending until we break…and then we grow back again to reveal our beauty, our strength.

We are tulips in the springtime.

Feb26

No Thanks, Superman (I’ve got it covered).

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It’s my spring break and I joined a dating site. Well, three to be exact. What a hassle. I’m not entirely convinced I don’t want to end up alone. Dating as a single mom is more complex than people seem to think. The assumption seems to be that I would want to replace her father, gain a partner to tackle parenthood with, jump on the idea of a date to get out of the house. These people are wrong.

Everything I do is done with my daughter in mind.

New Years Eve 2014, when my daughter was only four months old, I broke it off with her father. It was not a decision I made with little thought. Becoming a single mom was not something I decided to do on a whim. I never wanted my child to grow up in a home where her father didn’t reside. That wasn’t a goal of mine. Yet, I hit a point in the relationship where I could not imagine beginning the New Year, 2015, with him. I wanted a clean break, a new year.

When I date a guy, I am letting him into a world where previously, my trust was greatly broken. I am giving him the privilege and honor of meeting this little girl who means everything to me. Our future together isn’t a given and I refuse to jump into a marriage simply because a guy is willing to date a single mom. I may not be happy about my past following me, the inability to leave my ex in the past where exes belong, but I deal with it because my daughter deserves to know her father.

Dating a guy doesn’t mean replacing her father. It means my daughter will be lucky enough to have two dads. It means one day, if she wants, she will have two dads to walk her down the aisle, two dads to report amazing news to, two dads to treat her like the gem she is. And unfortunately, dating a guy doesn’t give him the allowance to make decisions regarding my daughter when we have only been dating a few months. He doesn’t get to jump into every mother-daughter activity after only a couple weeks or even a few months. And unfortunately, time isn’t something I seem to have a lot of these days, between my daughter, my studies, and subbing. When I’m forced to choose between the two, it’s almost a given I’ll choose time with my daughter. Some people can’t understand this concept of why I’m not willing to immediately allow for the guy to spend a lot of time with my daughter. I’ve been told it takes at least a year to get to really know someone. I’m not willing to have my daughter get attached to a guy when the relationship may not last. This isn’t pessimism speaking, it’s realism.

Everything I do is done with my daughter in mind.

I’m not willing to be disappointed by another man.

I’m not willing to allow a man to disappoint my daughter.

My pregnancy was a difficult one ridden with worry and constant sickness. I had to drag the father to two of the appointments. I got more checkup phone calls and texts from people I rarely talked to or hadn’t seen in years. We easily went days without speaking and unless I brought it up, he never asked how the checkups went. I was alone in a complicated pregnancy.

When I got the call late at night telling me I had to be induced into labor because they were worried about the baby, the father wasn’t going to be there. His boss told him to come with. I had to drive from Grand Rapids to Ann Arbor to be at the hospital in the morning and he was planning on having me drive it alone. He chose to not see his daughter for six weeks because he wanted to manipulate me into moving across the state. He sacrificed seeing his own daughter.

Everything I do is done with my daughter in mind.

It’s a given for there to be complications and drama between parents who are no longer together. It’s a given that there will be days of frustration. The last guy I dated understood this to an extent. He assured me I could talk to him about it but instead I would get the silent treatment in return. He was jealous when my daughter spent time with her father. Her father became jealous when he found out I was dating someone and stepped up in seeing his daughter more and not cancelling on her last minute—not that she’s old enough to know if he cancelled, anyway.

Unfortunately, when dating a single mom, the guy enters into a relationship with the father as well. With me, that means he’s expected to take the high road. There is no talking shit about her father in front of my daughter. I don’t accept anger because my daughter deserves to know her father. That is to be respected. I have this end goal that her father and I will reach a point where our future families can take vacations together so my daughter doesn’t feel left out or forced to choose. I refuse to put her in the middle of any dispute. This also is to be respected.

I wasn’t lying about the complications and drama.

I may be a single mom but that doesn’t mean I’m willing to settle for any guy. I’d rather remain single than be in a loveless relationship. There are days I’d love to share with a partner, but reality is the world of dating is complicated tenfold when a child is added into the equation. I would never want my daughter to settle, so why should I?

“You’re making a mistake.”

“You’re lucky I was even willing to date you.”

“You think I want this drama.”

“You’re a single mom, it’s not like guys are lining up.”

Some of the shit that comes out of people’s mouths amazes me. Being a single mom doesn’t mean I need help. It doesn’t warrant judgment. Being single and being a mom are two separate labels—I hate that word. When combined, it simply means I’m Superwoman—that’s what I keep telling myself anyways.

I’m not looking to be saved. I don’t need Superman. (I’ve got it covered.)

Mar9

you should let go

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You wade into the sea,
the vast ocean that has become us;
the tide is in, seizing
you in its bleak emptiness.
Your screams are drowned,
your apologies bitter, the saltiness
dehydrating—
I spit them out, throw
you a rope burned
to ash by our blinded
hatred. You ask me
how I could toss the oars, you say
I’m the reason we’re drifting
apart, why the rudder
can’t be fixed—you’re right,
I am, but you tossed
the compass, we’re lost
with no direction. I’m setting
sail, I’m saving
us,
our sanity, by letting go—
you should let go, too—
you’re barely afloat.