Navigating the post-Divorce dating waters

It seems to be the rage to write about “things you wish you’d known before [enter relevant life stage]” and, not wishing to be an outlier, I have thought about mine and which were the most prominent. 

It’s easy to forget the transitions although I do clearly remember the shift from 20s to 30s . I loved it and felt so much more ‘sorted’. But then I also went down the well-trodden path of marriage and motherhood and the next big shift has been the post-divorce years. So, here I am, 3.5 years post-marriage breakdown and I’m finding more and more people in the same boat as me. They said I should share my tales and provide the benefit of hindsight.

The first thing that I learnt is that, although I thought the end of the World was nigh, life really can begin at divorce. Don’t get me wrong, it was a huge deal. It took me nearly 2 years to get to the decision stage to kick my husband out. Even though I had been cheated on horribly – and repeatedly – I had a 3 year old. I had a 3 year old and I wanted the 3 year old to have a sibling. It is amazing what you are prepared to put up with when those two planets collide. But, ultimately, my self-respect and self-esteem were more important than the clanging of my biological clock and the maternal guilt klaxon. He had to bloody go! And you know what? Yes, I was sad but, oh the blessed relief. And, oh the fun I’ve had since.

The holidays I’ve been on, the new friends I’ve made, the challenges I’ve taken on, the renewed focus I’ve had at work – they have all made for the most rewarding 3.5 years imaginable but probably where the most wisdom has come from has been the eye-popping journey that is post-divorce dating. The following shouldn’t be taken as gospel, nor is it intended to put anyone off because the possibilities are endless and I know a great number of people that have found love second time round. But you can be vulnerable when you come out of a marriage and so it pays to be a bit savvy and a bit realistic. So what have I learnt?

Well, after the tissues had been used up, I decided it was time to get back on the ‘horse’. Dear God, I didn’t realise the horse would be like that though. Online dating was the preserve of the desperate the last time I was single but, fast forward to 2013, and it was the biggest game in town. And what a minefield! I know every trick in the book now and exactly what to expect but, back then, wet behind the ears, I had no idea to expect the following to happen:
– Crying the first time a Guardian Soulmates dude stopped replying when we were having a really nice chat (after I’d imagined us living out our natural lives together with our perfect ready-made step family).
– Crying the first time I had sex with someone other than my husband (especially as he – very unceremoniously -tried to ram his finger up my arse)
– Crying on and off for 2 months the first time I was ‘ghosted’ (when someone you clicked with hugely disappears into thin air).
*Footnote, looking back at all the crying, possibly, just possibly, I wasn’t quite ready for getting back on the horse).
– Thinking going for my first post-divorce date at Pizza Express  was acceptable (rolling eye Emoji right there).
– Being flattered that 24 year olds were really into ‘MILFs’ like me (and saying “oi oi” quite a lot) and then being surprised when they shit their nappies when you actually want to give them a ‘test ride’.
– (As a well-brought up individual) feeling really bad for not responding even when the guy is old enough to be your granddad, has a mullet, proudly does yoga and states, without a hint of shame, that he went to the ‘University of Life’. (Brackets – the feeling really bad thing subsides a bit when your online dating mojo is flying high but you will have pangs of guilt occasionally).
– Oh yeah, talking of the online dating mojo, when this takes hold, loving being the toast of your married friends’ group chat when you are arranging 2 dates in a day. They particularly love that!
– Rewriting my online dating profile a thousand times. I think it is universally accepted that, despite going through the wringer of marriage breakdown, people hit the dating scene playing it real cool and trying to make it crystal clear that they are a laidback chick with a million interests designed to make people think “wow, how is she single?”. In reality, you are still fragile AF, with your self esteem down by your knees and prone to random bouts of crying (see above). Don’t worry, though, 3 years in, you won’t give a toss and will cut out all the bullshit and be there with your 2 liner no-frills pitch of what you are about and what you are and aren’t looking for. Clinical.
– Spending inordinate sums on a new make-up and beauty regime and possibly even a studio photo portrait to casually pop into your online profile. Upon which, you will then spend the rest of your life agonising over whether these blemish-free works of art are a true reflection of self.
– Not going to labour the point on the unsolicited ‘dick pic’ stuff as has been done to death now but from feeling outraged initially, I moved seemlessly to laughing hysterically with my mates at the poor fool, his angry-looking member and obvs the sundry items in the background of the photo. (My particular favourite was the guy with the crucifix on his bedroom door).
– Discovering how much fakery the internet encourages. People can and do bullshit for Britain so keep your wits, your personal details and your intuition about you! If it seems too good to be true, it definitely will be.
– Having a fling with someone way out of your league. This will almost certainly happen and you won’t be able to believe your luck. A little voice inside your head will start saying that THIS is why it didn’t work out with your husband and even start rattling off the whole “when one door closes another one opens” claptrap. By all means, feel great about it and definitely enjoy it while it lasts…because it won’t! Soz. 
– Not me personally as I am a demon at NOT drunk dialling but I have it on good authority that most will drunkenly call out the shit behaviour of the guy they are dating (especially if it’s Mr Out of League) and then spend the next week berating themselves and fearing he will never contact them again (he will – they always come back – but try to rid yourself of this habit as it’s definitely not cool or fitting of a woman who has come of age).

So, there are a few things I’ve learnt. There are many others but have probably said enough for now. BUT, lest my experiences come across as some jaundiced account of life definitely NOT beginning after divorce, let me offer some reassurance that all of this should be embarked on lightheartedly, as a rite of passage and a bloody, bloody, bloody good laugh. Doubtless you have spent years with some grumpy old sod whose socks stank a bit, had let himself go, had thought buying you a pasta maker was a romantic birthday gift and who had massively taken you for granted. So, make the most of all of the above. It might take you on a rollercoaster, it might not be how you pictured middle age but, believe me, it will help you develop a better sense of self than you have ever had.

Happy Anniversary to Me!

I never forget a date (or, strangely, a phone number) and since I don’t, what better way to celebrate closure than today?

A year ago tonight, I lay in a swanky hotel room right next to 007 but, at the same time, a million miles away from him. I’m not the greatest sleeper at the best of times but, as the tears dripped down my cheeks, I wondered whether I had the stealth to gather all my stuff up and run off into the night. It is something I will always regret not at least trying as it was the longest, crappiest night ever. (And he snored – dick).

We’d spent all day together, gone for coffee, gone to an event together, gone for lunch (though, admittedly, that was shit as he was Paleo-tastic and given up drinking – yawn!) and then gone to his hotel for afters. We got on so well and laughed loads all day and even though I knew nothing was going to come of it, it didn’t stop me dreaming of what might be.

And, then, during the pillow talk, he dropped the bombshell. The confirmed bachelor – who I’d been sleeping with for a year – grinned and without even a hint of remorse announced he was “seeing someone. She’s a real cutie”. If I had bollocks, I daresay it would have felt like I’d been kicked in them. “Er hello? You do realise you are in bed with another human being. One who you’ve known for 10 years and who, like most human beings, has feelings?”….is what I should have said. What I actually said was “oh ok, what’s she like?” and then lay there all night while he turned his back on me hating every fibre of my own being. ‘Swapping breeze blocks for butterflies’, remember HTS1, you STUPID FUCKING BINT?!

I was so happy when morning came so I could scramble my stuff together and jog the hell on outta there. He wondered why I was getting up at 6 but thank God I had booked myself on the first train. I cried all the way back to London and vowed I would never hurt myself like that again. I’d always given him more chances because of the “we’ve got shared history” BS and because I’d not see him for a while and think I could handle NSA because “I had needs” and “oh fuck it, he is so fit”. Even “ha ha, he was friends with my ex-husband”. But, no. They were all me making excuses and it was time to admit that every time I saw him, my heart broke a little bit more and that I had to make it stop.

And so I did. He has contacted me a few times over the last year and each time the compulsion to respond has got less and less. A few weeks ago he got in contact to see if I’d be going to this event again this year and I managed not to reply. It took fucking forever but I am over him. And he would bloody hate that!