Right Guy, Wrong Time?

Time

I don’t believe that we only get only one love in our lives. In fact, I believe that if we are lucky, or unlucky depending on how you view it, we can end up having many loves throughout our life. I think that as we grow, and as our lives go in different directions, our ability to love and the kind of people we are able to fall in love with change along with us. I know this from experience, as I have already fallen in love several times. The fact that I can love often and easily, with total abandonment has not always served me well, especially when I haven’t allowed myself to recover from the loss of one love before moving on to another. At times the colors of our different relationships can run together, creating a murky mess. That’s precisely what ended up happening to me.

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Not Marriage Material

marriage

I probably wasn’t ready to get married.

I dated my ex-husband for two years before we got engaged. We were engaged for a year and a half before our big, lavish wedding. We got divorced four years later.

Looking back now, I’m not quite sure that I was as mature enough for marriage as I had thought I was. Truthfully, I’m pretty sure I didn’t even think about whether or not my maturity should even be a factor. The harsh reality is, I wasn’t exactly “marriage material” at the time.

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An Open Letter to My 25 Year-Old Self – 10 Years Later

looking back

I was 25 years old when I met the man I would eventually marry…and divorce 7 years later. I remember spending a lot of time in my late teens and early 20’s crying over random, loser guys and wondering if I would ever find the “one.” Truth be told, I would love to go back and punch that whiny girl in the face. If I knew then what I know now…let’s just say that heartache in early adulthood is a walk in the park compared to heartache at 35. I would give anything to go back to that time, that time before real life, real jobs, mortgages, and ex-husbands and just shake myself. I would love to tell my old self that the next 10 years were going to be quite trying and would test me in every way possible; that I would need to develop some thick skin and learn some better coping skills.

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The 7 Year Itch That Nobody’s Scratching

itch

I feel like I’ve heard about the so-called 50% divorce rate for as long as I can remember. But lately I am struggling to figure out where exactly these “experts” are getting their numbers from, especially since I seem to be the only girl that I know sitting home on the weekends with my thumb up my ass, while all of my friends are hanging with their husbands and kids. I am on nearly every dating site imaginable, and at this point I can’t open up an app without recognizing dozens of guys that I’ve already ignored on some other app. It’s the same sea of faces over and over again wherever I turn. And it blows. These “dating apps” used to at least be able to amuse and entertain me if nothing else, but they don’t even do that anymore. All they do now is create a sense of panic as I begin to realize that I will probably be alone for the rest of my life. I practically shit myself with excitement on the rare occasion that a new and attractive profile of a single man appears. However the hyperventilation and underboob sweat quickly subsides when I reach out to him and never hear back. I think it may be easier to catch Bigfoot than it is to catch the eye of any newbies, since they immediately get swarmed by all of the other piranhas the minute they create their profiles. The idea of fighting for a man’s attention is about as appealing to me as a yeast infection…

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