Feminist Thoughts on Dating

from a soon-to-be divorcée

Lately I’ve been wondering if there are two types of daters post divorce: rushers and waiters. Those who are so grateful to be out of the marriage that they throw themselves full force into dating and sex and a celebration of their freedom. And those who are so depleted by their previous romantic relationships that they cannot imagine wanting to be in another one anytime soon.

In case you haven’t noticed, I fall into the second category.

When I moved out of the marital home, I was exhausted. Deciding to leave a marriage is hard work, and once I finally landed post-decision, I didn’t want to do anything when my kids weren’t with me except rest, read, and write. I had longed for alone time in motherhood, dying for space, both physical and psychic. I’m an introvert and motherhood is a particular challenge for those of us who need solitude to recharge.

I also felt all the energy I had been expending maintaining this relationship for almost twenty years rush back into me. I had no idea how much it had been draining, until that energy was once again available to me.

I felt myself coming back to life. Like I had been deprived of oxygen, but I hadn’t even realized it.

So I wasn’t interested in dating. There was no ounce of me interested. That beacon that searches for connection shut off for a time. I connected with my kids, who kept me alive with their love and tenderness and care. I connected with my girlfriends who provided a net of safety and laughter and support. I connected with my mom and sister who provided me with a sense of continuity. I had two new cats who cuddled with me every night. What I am saying is I was not lacking. I was not alone.

Again, being an introvert, I love my own company. I love the idea of hours spread out before me all to myself. So when my kids weren’t with me, when it started to feel intolerable, I just turned to my pile of books. There was always one there to keep me company.

A year went by. I watched

Joanna Goddard

bravely talk about thinking about putting herself out there. I read about

lyz

having a great time pursuing pleasure (as another former evangelical who married early, believe me, I was cheering her on!). People asked if I was interested. I shook my head with a tone of As if!

And then I had breakfast with a friend who said she had someone she wanted me to meet. (Don’t worry, this is not a post about my new boyfriend! I still haven’t even gone on a date!). I shook my head. I wasn’t ready. She persisted. She just wanted to connect us via email. Nothing had to happen right away. I said I’d think about it.

I went to AWP in February. Had a blast hanging out with a crew of East Bay mother writers, namely

Amanda Montei

(Touched Out)

Minna Dubin

(Mom Rage) Ruth Whippman (the forthcoming Boymom) and Hannah Michell (Excavations). I was talking about not really being ready to date, but then I downed two cocktails and we started to play the game “who would you be into in this room?” Now, this was a conference for writers so it was a particular breed available, but it was fun to just turn that beacon back on. Who intrigues me? What would happen if I breathed this part of me back to life?

I don’t think I’ve ever had this part of me fully online. Because I was an evangelical Christian during most of my adolescence and until I met my soon-to-be ex-husband, I was taught desire was dangerous, something to shut off. To lust was sin, wanting a slippery slope towards hell.

What would happen if I allowed myself to truly feel into wanting?

It was a fun night with supportive women who were wing women to my desire, stoking the fires, suggesting new opportunities. (To be clear, I spoke to no one I was interested in. We were just playing pretend).

So a few days after I had that breakfast with my friend, I relented. Okay. You can connect us via email.

Reader, I have my first date on Friday.

It’s just a coffee date (of course it is. Of course I’d start with the safest thing available). I’ve told my kids (they think he’s too old for me). I have no real expectations. But it feels good to feel an opening.

Let me be clear. I am not looking for a relationship. I am not interested in ever getting remarried. In fact, I’m not sure I’m even interested in monogamy. I love the new intrigue with polyamory. I have no idea whether it would truly align with my needs going forward. But I think one of the struggles I felt in my marriage was that I owed someone something. My loyalty. My body. Myself. And I had to fulfill all his needs.

In this next phase of my life, I feel expansive. I feel bigger than the whole universe. I don’t want to tie myself down in any way.

I am not looking for “my person.” Yes, I caved recently and watched Season 6 of Love Is Blind. For the last year I have avoided watching romance reality shows because I am pretty jaded about marriage, if you haven’t noticed. But in every show that features people looking for love, you hear this verbiage, about looking for their person.

First of all, I already have a person. And she is my identical twin. Secondly, I need more than one person. I have mom friends, I have former colleagues who have become dear friends, I have writer friends (and writer friends get you in a way no one else does!), I have college friends. I need all of them. I don’t want just one person.

Now, I recognize this post may not age well. I think about Jen Pastiloff, (who writes

Proof of Life with Jen Pastiloff

) and the Instagram post she wrote about her now fiancé Henry after she first met him, about how amazing he was and their deep connection, and then writing “it wasn’t a romantic encounter” as if to assure her followers. Now she is getting divorced and they are getting married (she’s writing a book about it and I cannot wait to read in full!). Perhaps in a few years, I will have found “my person” and the only reason why I don’t want “my person” is I’ve never really had one.

But I also think that I am committed to carving a way forward that is not prescribed to me by the patriarchy. And the whole concept of “The One” is a fabrication to keep women focused on finding their person instead of finding themselves.

I am protective of my girls. Bringing someone into my life in a significant way affects them. I love our little threesome and it would have to take a world shattering experience to bring someone into that cocoon I’ve created.

But family can emerge in a lot of different forms. It’s okay to expand my idea of what my family will look like, as well.

One of the reasons that I think I’ve put off the idea of dating (other than the fact that I have no interest in joining the apps), is that I am afraid there might be another layer of grief uncovered once I sit down on a date and look across the table at someone who isn’t my ex. This isn’t how I wanted things to go. I wanted it to be him, for the rest of our lives. I really did. And so to sit down at a restaurant, gaze at the menu, and then up and into someone else’s eyes… what will that unlock in me? I think it kind of terrifies me.

But I know that I am in a stage of new beginnings. I feel openings in so many ways right now, like I’m on the cusp of something, a new era. Not just about relationships but about finally finding a publisher for this book I’ve been writing. About finishing the divorce negotiations so that this full-time job that doesn’t provide pay but drains me of money is no longer stealing hours from each week. As this woman said in this video below: my own “Happily Ever After 2 Point Mother Fucking O.”

nickimarieinc

A post shared by @nickimarieinc

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