After a decade, I find myself separated and (sort of) single again and it’s shocking to go back into the dating scene. #allthefeels are on high alert, like 16 going on 60. It’s luxurious to have a choice. It’s exciting to take risks. It’s brutal to receive rejection. I love it. I hate it. I want some more of it.
But what exactly is this space? Divorced-dating. Am I trying to belong to someone again? Find comfort? Fill a void? Fall in love? Fuck around? What, pray tell, is the goal and how will I know if I’m winning or losing?
Should I be keeping score?
In some ways, I am 16. I have these lovely fantasies of swinging in a moonlit park and dancing in the rain; gazing into the eyes of a guy and feeling like my soul has been seen. A part of me wants that pressure-less passion – the idea of a mister with no pressure to find Mr. Right – to stay, simply, in the moment.
Sometimes, the 60 year old part of me wants to drop-kick the 16 year old’s wistful daydreams but Girl is strong and brave and doesn’t give a fuck what some old woman thinks. As much as I really do want to stay in that teenage wanderlust, I have to admit; I am jaded.
I find dating ridiculous… as a concept. I mean, the jig is up. I’ve done the dance. I’ve had the dream. I’ve lived the lies. I’ve walked the aisle. I’ve faked the smiles. I’ve played the game.
Hell, I’ve BEEN the game.
The thing about divorced-dating is, after the soul-rocking brutality of splitting a family; it just takes a lot more to impress me, to enjoy me, to scare me, to shock me…to make me feel.
I’m not sure what I want here, in this space. But I want to be brave.
I want to find out.
The 16 year old is far too shiny to be hidden. The 60 year old is far too jaded to proceed without caution. As I seek to honor these beautiful sides of myself, here are my simple collective divorced-dating requirements:
He must make me laugh.
He must have a strong sense of self.
He better be fucking good in bed.