In January 2012 I was separated. Looking back the strangest thing was getting used to being on my own when the children went to their fathers for the alternate weekend. Sharing the children is really really hard. In reality, you have always shared the children but as a couple/family you did it together and through choice and decisions were shared, or discussed. In separation your children are spending time with the man you now loathe, who annoys you, who seems to do everything in his power to irritate you, so why would you want your children with him! Not always rational thoughts but who’s rational just after they separate.
I can honestly say I started to look forward to my weekends off duty. I found a nucleus of friends that wanted to meet for Sunday morning runs in the woods followed by lunch. Saturdays were usually filled with fitness and household chores. The evenings were initially daunting but actually once the shutters were closed at night, the house cosy I didn’t always want to go out. Cooking for one can seem a bit sad but as I love aubergines, courgettes and mushrooms and the boys don’t, I would happily cook these yucky vegetables and eat guilt-free.
It’s not long after entering this new phase of your life, that you start to think it might be good fun to go on a date. I can remember it was one Saturday evening in March, after I had consumed a whole bottle of Prosecco on my own, I found the courage to sign up to match.com and begin my profile.
It is an exciting prospect, selling yourself…. but I was slightly panic-struck that I had no decent photos. I decided I would ask the boys to take some! Have you ever asked your teenage son to take photos of you, fully made up posing but trying to look relaxed, it was hopeless. My son asked, “what are these for?” Good question but I obviously lied.
Writing the profile is difficult, whatever you write tends to sound so corny. Of course, I wrote the usual drivel but now have my own dictionary of popular descriptive words.
Fun = I smile a bit
Sporty = don’t be a couch potato
Like to socialise = I have friends, hope you do
Own house = don’t contact me if you live with your mother
I have travelled extensively = do you know where Africa is?
I have had a number of dates through match.com and as I write this I have been seeing someone I met on match for nearly a year now. But the journey to find my BF (boyfriend) was interesting, to say the least. I never had a scary date, I never received body part texts or emails so I am unscathed but was disheartened or bemused at times.
Mr. Carpet Right, this was my lowest point dating. Why I agreed to meet this man for a drink I will never know. I think it was the VW Camper van picture on his profile and the mention of him playing the guitar that drew me in. I fantasied about trips to Cornwall, sitting by campfires, travelling in a VW. When will we learn? I did very quickly the night Mr. Carpet Right Manager turned up….my heart sank and I knew immediately it was a “no lighty” moment. It was made worse when he said he had moved back home to live with his mother and the VW was on bricks!
Mr. Female voice. Another disaster. I can’t fancy a man with a really high-pitched slightly squeaky voice, who tells you their work colleagues bought him a pink Per Una scarf for his birthday.
Mr. Self-obsessed, the one who can’t get over a previous girlfriend. You meet and then the conversation is all about his previous relationship, he sweats profusely and you realise the guy needs help but not your help, thanks but bye-bye.
Mr. Always chatty online but we can never meet. Safe, fun but pointless. For weeks you email each other, flirt, and laugh, usually late on a Friday or Saturday night. It’s almost comforting, you never arrange to meet yet strangely the fun is in the chase or communication. I now realise he was probably married!
Mr. You are like my x husband. This is treading old ground and it hurts and brings pain, frustration, and anger. But only go there once, live by your mistake, and learn. I did.
Then one Thursday evening in May 2013 I arranged to meet a date. I can remember the evening so clearly. Before I entered the pub I took a deep breath and just wondered to myself, why did I want to put myself through this ordeal, again? Another blind date. I had received an email en route to say ” Sitting on the round table by the door”. I strode into the pub to meet this sparkly-eyed, clean-scrubbed, normal guy. I couldn’t believe it. We chatted away for three hours and the time flew by. I really liked him, he was interesting, interested in me, engaging, worked, lived on his own, and was open and honest.
That was nearly a year ago.