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Dating After Divorce: Becoming Comfortably Numb

Date: March 10, 2014
Author: julietjeske
Categories: Dating, Dating - NYC, Dating After 35, Dating After Divorce, Dating Online, Depression, Gay Husband, Relationships, Straight Spouse, Uncategorized
Comments: 2 Replies

I wondered when it would happen, then a few months ago, it hit me.  After countless bad dates and a dating scene that feels like a wasteland, I’ve finally become comfortably numb.  It’s not what I expected.  I thought I would be more negative and more jaded, but it’s honestly somewhat comfortable.  My expectations have just hit rock bottom.

When I first left my marriage I was completely unprotected.  My heart was overly sensitive, my mind ravaged with depression and my instincts set at high alert. I needed to calm the beast, or I never would have survived. I used to cry after bad dates, usually on the subway home.  As soon as I would just sit down, I’d mildly lose it.  I don’t think I had unrealistic expectations.  Multiple bad dates had trained me not to think beyond the first encounter.  Then on the rare occasions I had a second date, I taught myself not to get too excited.  I’ve only made it to three dates with one man.  We had hardly gotten serious, we hadn’t had sex yet when he had a slight meltdown.  In his case, I don’t think it had anything to do with me.  From what he told me, he had some seriously unresolved issues with his ex.  Unresolved issues with exes is just a reality for people over 35.

Some guys would rather remain virtual.  I sort of “dated”  a guy who just wanted to email.  He claimed he wanted to see me, but then created countless obstacles.  I lived in Brooklyn and he lived in Manhattan, so it shouldn’t have been that difficult.  He also wasn’t over his ex, and I suspect was still trying to get back together with her.  I’ll never understand why I kept talking to him, or what was going on in his head.  I found out months after I gave up, he found a good match and they are inseparable.

I’ve had a few casual flings.  I forced every jealous atom inside of me to stay cool.  Hooking up with guys when I knew they had other women in their lives, wasn’t easy.  It really took Herculean strength to not react, to tell myself that it didn’t matter, we weren’t serious, this won’t lead to anything. I managed to stay calm, but inside I was miserable.

They haven’t all been bad.  I had a strong connection with one guy.  We found out on the date we were both straight spouses.  His wife left him for a woman, and I thought that maybe our shared experience might work to our advantage.  Despite obvious warning signs that he was clearly not over his ex-wife, we made out in his car for over an hour.  It was highly unusual for me, as I usually don’t even kiss a guy on a first date. Then he completely blew me off.   I guess the situation was too much for him, I don’t know.  I can’t remember his name or face.

Now I still have a few men who hover but do little else. They might send a dick pic, or a request for sexting that will lead absolutely nowhere.  I’ve learned I’m not the only recipient for their x-rated self-portraits.   If I say I’m interested in something more, they tend to bolt.  Of course I still get harassed on the street by any number of men of all ages.  I guess that might end when I have to use a walker or cane to get around.

The worst was my rebound relationship, something I never should have gotten myself into.  It was completely exhilarating, but ultimately soul crushing.  I had so many conflicted feelings towards him, at least two years after the fact.  Now I don’t see him.  I have no idea what’s going on in his life, and I have no desire to find out.  I harbor no ill will, but I also don’t want any contact with him.

I’ve become someone I would have never recognized five years ago.  But in a way it’s not completely awful.  It’s not what I thought it would be.  I’m not angry or bitter, just numb.   I take everything men say and do with a grain of salt.  So what if the guy sent me several texts in a row – It doesn’t mean anything until he backs it up with actions.  I rarely text anyone because I can’t stand being blanked back.  I would rather just have nothing than the feeling of being ignored.

I just stopped caring.  So what if the guy from OKCupid sends me eight emails only to cancel the same night as our date.  I don’t even blink if some man rants about his “bitch ex-wife” for half the date.  It no longer surprises me, if he insults what I do for a living, or complains about my crappy neighborhood. This is dating after 35 in a city where only the strong survive, and you’ll be judged on everything your job, neighborhood, past relationships, pets, hobbies even your hometown.

Some of my dates have been so rude and so horrible that if I recreated them in a movie, I would be accused of being too fantastical.  I try to keep an open mind, stay positive and keep moving forward.  My horrible experiences have given me armor.  I rarely have crying fits on the subway anymore.  I’ve just learned to block the disappointments out.   Most divorced people never think they are going to end up like this.  Few of us expect this as our future.  If we learn more from our failures, I’ll be a genius by the time I finally meet a compatible match.  🙂

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Dating In New York: Anatomy of a Hook-up

Date: March 21, 2013
Author: julietjeske
Categories: Dating, Dating - NYC, Dating After 35, Dating After Divorce, Depression, Divorce, Relationships, Straight Spouse, Uncategorized
Comments: 4 Replies
bed

bed (Photo credit: Quiet Here)

I have been meaning to write this one for months now.  So please don’t anyone get concerned, I am doing fine.  I just wanted to capture in a slightly different writing style than my usual.  Also this is not in reference to any one specific person.  This is a piece of fiction based on my life…the incident that inspired it actually happened several months ago.  So please don’t anyone think I am writing about them again…for the love of Pete! 

I always tell myself – I’m never going to do it again.  It is a poor substitute for what I really need.  I go for months without physical contact from another human – skin touching skin, the warmth of another body, the sound of another heartbeat.  When I was younger it seemed so much easier.  Everyone was so willing to fall so quickly.  Now every man I meet is so jaded, too guarded to let anyone in.  I’m skittish myself, no matter how hard I try it’s difficult to feeling anything.  The men become little more than a body.

I keep hoping that I will find another partner and become entwined with them in every way possible.  The wait lasts forever and nothing seems to change.  When I finally succumb to my carnal desires, not so much desires as a basic human need, I know I am not going to find anything more than a fleeting moment.  All of the bottled up longing and loneliness suddenly explodes.  My body unable to stand it one day longer.

This one seems harmless I think to myself.  I doubt this guy will give me a hard time, stalk me, make my life difficult, hate me or curse my name into infinity, send me hateful emails, dramatically kick me off his Facebook profile or dump me from his twitter,  so I give in.  What is normally a fortress – difficult for most to enter, the lucky devil is given the key to the front door.  I get so sick of always saying no. I am not interested.  You’re too young.  You’re just a player.  I have trust issues.  I don’t do casual things well.

I finally connect and let someone close but it always feels like a faded facsimile of the real thing.  Memories swirl in my head of the last time it meant so much more.  The last time this actually felt real.

As we go through the motions I can still see his face, and smell his skin.  I hear his voice with words so sweet they were like a million sugar cubes dissolving in my mouth all at once dripping down my throat and filling me up in an instant.   Were they lies or was it the truth?  Does it matter? I believed them.

Don’t make me look at you, don’t make me look into your eyes, that’s asking too much.  I’ll do nearly anything you’ll ask, I’ll put up with your sexual theatrics, but don’t ask that of me.  Reenact your pornos, turn me into your sexual doll, but don’t make me try to care about you.  I’m not your true love, I’m not your dream girl, I’m just a hit of drug you so desperately need.  Tomorrow another woman will soothe your demons, calm your soul and get your rocks off.

Your hands replace his hands, your eyes his eyes, your breath his breath.  The ghost of what I once had wraps itself around me, while I kid myself with a stranger.  I wonder who do you think of as you kiss my lips, stokes my hair, and hold the small of my back?  Who is the one still burned in your brain?  I know it’s not me, but I grind away anyway hoping for a savior, or at least a release.

Please don’t cuddle up to me afterward.  Please don’t go on about you day, or tell me your troubles, and by all means don’t tell me about your other women.  Whatever you do just tell me anything about her.  Don’t remind me how insignificant I am.  She doesn’t want you, she has moved on and she is so cruel she shoves it right in your face, yet you can’t let go of her.  You’re a slave to a dead dream.

I get so tired of playing this same game over and over again.  My defenses come back.   I teach myself to become numb again.  Give him no ammunition – I tell myself.  Give him no reason to reject you, reject him first, blow him off, cut them off, do not care or at least pretend to not care.  It is not that he doesn’t  want you.   You don’t want him.

The euphoria lasts sometimes for a few minutes and sometimes hours.  Maybe if I am lucky I get a day or two.  The indifference returns.  In an instant the spaces between hundreds of bricks built on disappointments and broken promises fill with defensive mortar and solidify around me.  The great wall of self-protection is back.   Until the next time when I just can’t take it anymore, and what seems like a bad idea, what I know is a mistake, suddenly has to happen.

I remember when it was so different, when a sigh or touch could melt away the fears and pain.   The glimpse of someone’s eyes could warm my heart and for a moment I could feel something.  I don’t know if I will ever get back there, or if this is the new normal.

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