Petty LaBelle. Petty Mayonaise. Petty Murphy. Petty Pan.

Well I'm divorced. The hearing was Tuesday, and took all of ten minutes. My marriage and a ten year relationship was legally ended within minutes. Perhaps the funniest part is remembering the planning and time that went into preparing for the wedding, only to have it all undone so quickly.

Maybe instead of a year long waiting period for divorce, we need a waiting period to be married. Then again it wouldn't have mattered in our case. As I mentioned, a third of my life was spent in that relationship. You'd think I'd have caught onto the red flags. Yet here we are!

I was getting more and more anxious in the hours leading up to the hearing. On the drive to the courthouse my stomach was in knots, and I had been listening to Alanis Morissette for a while. Even when I got there, and saw my almost totally ex husband and his fedora-wearing witness, nothing calmed within me. Until he spoke. I was reminded of his cold politeness, and the loneliness I had started to feel in our marriage. I felt reassured about my future and the change in status I'd have once I left the courthouse. I felt almost completely calm when I heard him dragging his heels when he walked. 

That noise always drove me crazy. Genuinely made me twitchy, enough to where I contemplated leaving him in a grocery store when we were in Ireland. The worst part was he would do it on purpose. But hey, not an issue any more. At least it's not my business how he chooses to walk.

In fact, none of that is my business. What he does with his life now doesn't concern me, and hasn't for a long time. I've done everything I can to maintain a respectful distance between us, taking cues from his behavior. Especially when it comes to his girlfriend. I've wished them well, but done everything I can to avoid any interactions with her. I don't know her, I've never said a word to her, she isn't a thing in my life, and I've just hoped they'll be happy.

So I don't know why she felt the need to brag about their divorce party on social media and call me Voldemort. I suppose she remembers Harry Potter very differently than I do. I definitely don't recall Voldemort avoiding parts of town where other people might be. Then again he was preoccupied with Harry and crew, and a little busy. So yeah, maybe he did ignore some other people.

In case you're wondering the joke is that I may be Voldemort but they're still not my concern.

But I've written before that I'm going to be honest about what happens when you're in these situations. And the truth is, no matter how hard you try you'll still be hurt. Everything tightened and I felt anxious and angry. I felt sad. I felt exhausted. I felt confused and hurt. I did nothing. I've wished them no ill will. I've told him that they both deserve to be happy. We all do. I get that they'd celebrate the end of all this; or at least that he would, because it actually involved him. But to make such a spectacle of it, and to say this about someone that actually is being impacted. I don't know what to do or how to react.

At least two days ago I didn't. Today? I know to just leave it alone. What they have to say about me is still not my business. It will not help me. I know what I have to do to find my own happiness, and it doesn't involve them. I'm starting to resent this high-road approach, but I've been here long enough so I might as well keep going. Empathy has never been my strong suit, and I'm trying to comfort myself by saying it's what I'm doing.

Lord grant me the patience and strength, because petty is so much easier.

I tried dating and it wasn't fun.

One thing I’ve learned is never go out with a guy that follows you on any social media. It makes it difficult to vent about how awkward everything was.

My favorite part about that sentence is how it’ll make some men uncomfortable. Probably provides some insight into why I’m single. Well, that and I’m just mean spirited and have spent a lot of time cultivating a persona that’s as warm as a rattlesnake.

A couple months ago, I signed up for one of those dating app things. I figured it was easy, free, and a good way to just dip a toe into the dating pool. However, no one warned me that dating pool was actually a treatment pond for industrial waste. I never found my Mr. Right, Mr. Right Now, or even a Mr. You'll Do. I did at least learn a lot about rejection, the art of ghosting, and that there are worse things than being alone. Oh, and got some good stories. That's very important, since so many of my decisions boil down to, "would this be a funny story?"

I wish I had kept track of how many men I matched with, messaged, and what percent responded to me. Even smaller still, what percent I ended up meeting. However, I can tell you how many men I had a second date with! Two. There were two guys that I ever heard from again after the initial date. 

Have you ever met someone you knew online, and they looked so different from their pictures that you wanted to ask for your money back? No money was exchanged, you just feel so betrayed by the misrepresentation it was like you'd been swindled. I wanted to yell at him, to be honest. Instead I just let him pay for the pizza. I regret that, actually. Because what followed was one of the most awkward set of social interactions I've ever had. Yes, that's plural. Yes, I saw him more than once. I felt bad for him! I thought that maybe he was just nervous and that's why he made really intense eye contact, or answered open ended questions with "....yeah." Sometimes he would just stop in the middle of a sentence like he forgot where he was. 

As it turns out, that wasn't first date jitters. That's just him.

One guy gave me this spiel that men didn't like it when women talked about previous sexual experiences, because it made them sound like whores. No details, just knowing that a woman wasn't a virgin was enough to bother him. 

At some point, I stopped trying to act like an adult. As Bill Burr may or may not have said, you stop worrying about how something might sound and just start thinking, "Fuck it, let's see what happens." I wasn't interested in impressing these guys, and before the first date was over I started to worry about them asking for a second one. I told a few I was a feminist, knowing it would be enough to drive them off. In case you're wondering, it is pretty effective. I would recommend it for anyone caught in the same situation. 

Another time, I think the guy and I started a competition to see who could gross out the other. Actually, looking back that may have been one of the best dates I've been on. 

These are extreme examples. Generally, there was just a total lack of chemistry and attraction. Not so much that there was anything particularly wrong with any of them, just that I didn't see them as compatible. I rarely left a date with an overly positive feeling. However, that didn't mean I didn't feel some sense of rejection when I never heard from them again. Even recently I had the "there's nothing here" conversation with a guy I had met through a friend. There were so many red flags around him, and I wasn't interested, but it still hurt a little when he said he felt the same way.

Rejection sucks, and dating is a series of rejections. Still, it's a little fun. The newness of getting to know someone. The flirting. The hoping that something works out. Letting a man pay for dinner and getting a free meal out of it. Even got a free donut one day!

I think I'm done with the quantity approach. It's exhausting and frustrating and more than a little overwhelming. You see such a variety and so few are interesting. It's not just an issue of losing hope, but making sure you don't get... desperate. With each bad date, your standards drop just a little. 

We'll see how it goes in the future. For now, I just need to focus on the important things in my life. Maybe that'll include someone else, maybe it won't. The lesson here was being single and alone is still better than being around someone you don't even like.

Friends in Low Places

I've mentioned by depression before. I've written about it here and on social media. I've written about one of the lowest points where I was planning my suicide. So it's nothing new for anyone.

One of my last posts was right as another episode began. This one was worse than usual, thanks to Wellbutrin. Just in case you weren't aware, "wellbutrin" is latin for "this is gonna fuck you up." Not only did it not do what it was supposed to, but for almost six weeks I was a terrified, anxious, paranoid mess. I'm not on that any more, and life is much better.

I've always struggled with opening up to friends and asking for help. I like to think I've gotten better about reaching out to people without feeling like a burden. As I've told others, and struggle to remind myself, I don't have to go through this alone. Sometimes I can call a friend and ask if they want to join me while I get drunk in my shower.

Now, here's where it gets random. I know who I can lean on. What I didn't know was that I could lean on my Ex Husband Within The Next Two Weeks. We're divorcing because we weren't happy together, but you don't spend almost a decade of your life with someone and write them off entirely. We both agreed we still cared about one another, and he was amazingly supportive and did what he could to get me out of that depression. He talked to me and even helped me get some stuff fixed around my house.

It was really comforting to have something so familiar around, and to be able to talk to someone that has seen me go through this before. We've grown apart, but at one point there was no one closer to me. Still, after everything I was reassured that I'm on the right path. It was great to catch up and talk to him, but more as a matter of closure. That chapter is done and we've both moved on in our own ways.

So, join me next time. Where I discuss the fun vacation with my dad and how I joined a dating app.

I did it for the stories. You should thank me.