Saturday, April 28, 2012

I Won't Give Up. . . .

I'd been divorced for quite a while, and at my age, most of the men I was dating had been too. The most difficult hurdle I'd faced in dating was that the divorced men didn't want to get married again. They didn't want to marry but most definitely wanted everything that would traditionally come along with it. They wanted it all, but didn't want to feel the drowning weight of the gold band wrapped around their finger. It didn't make sense to me why they didn't want to be alone, yet not want to be married. In my mind's eye, they were a living oxymoron and needed to be behind glass at a museum for all to gawk at. But I just chuckled at them for the most part, sometimes cursed a few colorful words or two and moved on.

I'd come to realize that it wasn't the getting married that scared divorcees, but it was the chance of getting divorced AGAIN that scared the pants off of them, whether they admitted it or not, self included. So when I stood at the bridge of marriage once again, memories of my first go-round started to flood my mind and cloud my vision of what a "fanciful" wedding it should be.

When I pictured my wedding with Handsome, I realistically didn't want one. I wanted to run to Vegas or pay the extra $30 for a judge to perform it, walk out in my jeans and green chucks a married woman, then continue as normal having nothing be different. But because of my Chickadees, I knew they needed something special because their life was going to dramatically change and be forced to find a new normal. So a wedding did in fact need to be planned.

Handsome, being older than me, wanted a traditional wedding. He wanted me in a dress, him in a suit, girls all girlied out, flowers, cake, dinner, music, etc. I got the feeling he wanted it done right because he knew I was Mrs. Right. This battled with me. I didn't want a dress, I didn't want to walk down the aisle, I didn't want a reception, I didn't want crowds of people, I didn't want gifts, I didn't want music, I didn't want a wedding cake or even a topper. I didn't want there to be a big deal made over us getting married even though I knew he was my Mr. Right. Why you might ask? Well I asked myself the same thing. It was because I didn't want to get divorced again. If I wasn't married, if I didn't have all the neon glow of the basic wedding package hanging over my head, I wouldn't be screwing it up all over again and get divorced. If it was quiet, personal, and only ours to share, it would stay that way and be safe from the outside forces that cause divorce.

My paranoia grew as each time I tried to make my wedding small failed. First it was to be Sunday evening in front of the sunset filled windows of my grandmother's living room surrounded by my closest family. The height of the eight foot ceiling and small number of people held in my nerves and gave me the comfort of privacy I had wanted. But for whatever flippin' stupid, &*%#ing reason it is, an LDS wedding cannot be performed on a Sunday. (Notice I am still bothered by this.) So I searched for different sources of authority to perform it, but nothing seemed right. If I wasn't getting married in the temple, I wanted the next best thing. So we changed the date.

Now my grandmother's home is not your typical reception size. At best we were going to squeeze in about 40 people. But soon family members who were not originally invited wanted to come and so I down sized my personal friends list to make room for them. But soon, that got ridiculously out of hand and we needed to move to a larger venue two weeks before the date. We ended up at a church through the magnificent work of some wonderful, wonderful people, and I was so grateful. However it was the antithesis of what I wanted for the wedding. The thought of having it there brought on moments of agoraphobia and panic. To me, it made this whole day way too big of a deal.

So many wonderful people came and helped me. It was almost like they were more excited about my upcoming wedding than I was. But the day came, everything was ready and I found myself running late, as usual. I had Handsome take the Chickadees down to the church to greet people and help entertain until I got there. My hair was done, make-up on, dress was on and tears were in my eyes. The day was very scary for me. My metaphorical marriage bridge was in front of me. I'd wanted it to be small, short and quick, but it was Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom size with crowds of people on both sides as spectators to watch me cross and possibly fall. Handsome knew I was scared. He knew my irrational fears were overwhelming at that moment. But he took my hand and crossed with me.

I could've easily stayed safe. Stayed on the single side of my bridge never risking the fall of divorce again. But I loved him and wanted him to be mine. More correctly, I wanted to be his. We had a moment during the tearful ceremony to say a few words to each other. He spoke words of deep love and  I chose to sing a song that reflected just how I felt about him and in that moment, it was just us. I didn't care if anyone heard what we said to each other because nothing else mattered. We were married and very much ready to make the most of it.

I was finally happy with it all now that it was over. I could enjoy the food, music and company. But most importantly I could enjoy being married. As the days continue, I am less and less fearful of getting divorced again because I am more and more sure of what we have created. The more confident I am about us, the more I want to share. I have never experienced such happiness. I do feel like we've come so far to get to where we are now and the fact that we have both been divorced changes the way we work at marriage. Neither one of us would've crossed that bridge if we weren't focused on what we really wanted in a marriage. I truly believe that we and our marriage is worth it.

So I ask you, do you have something worth it today?

Saturday, April 21, 2012

One and Only. . . .


My heart stopped as I straightened my shirt, fluffed my hair and said a quick prayer before my hand reached the silver door knob. I paused for what seemed like a minute, but in all likelihood was only a second, as to not seem too eager to open the door. With composure and gentleness I turned the knob and greeted my date.

All evening long I'd prepped myself for that moment. I even gave myself a pep talk to help stay focused. "Wait until the end of the date to kiss him." I told myself. "Wait. Give the evening a chance to take place before the hormones kick in." I laughed at myself for the train of thought. "Heidi, you didn't want to kiss him last time, what makes you think he'll kiss you now?" But he was different, I was different. I wasn't nervous anymore. The first date I went on out of routine, this one I was going to go on out of connection. I had never been more excited to go out on a date with someone in my life. It was as if my soul was pulling me much like a magnet drawn to another towards the door like she was going to take me right through it and join forces with the man on the other side. I don't know where the turning point from the first date to the second date took place, I was just glad it did.

I smiled as my eyes caught his and I remembered the nights of conversation that preceded this moment. I felt as if I was meeting him for the first time. Anxious, giddy, girly, and all the other emotions an awaited date could bring. He stepped inside and quickly embraced me as I let the door close. I had never wanted to be so close to another individual. He smelled sweet and delicious and the feel of his leather coat against my skin brought delight to my senses. His arms would not let me go, nor did I want them too. I giggled at the imbalance the extended contact caused me. "You don't want to let go." I laughed. "Because you feels so good." He responded.

We stayed there for a moment longer and then he broke away just enough to place his left hand behind my neck and kiss me. *sigh* So much for that pep talk.

Once our lips broke away from each other, he took my right hand in his left and began to dance with me to Adele playing in the background. Needless to say, we did not make it to the party. Sorry Larissa.

I fell in love with him at that very moment. I still want to dance with him every time I hear that song. As we danced, I imagined us as in a romantic comedy where the two antagonists, after years of loathing each other, finally come together and fall in love. We spent the remainder of the evening on the couch talking and kissing. I never wanted to leave. Fitting that in that apartment alone, he also proposed to me on that same couch. I will be sad the day we get rid of it.

All the wonderful details of our short courtship are kept secret only for he and I to enjoy. However, I will tell you this, he is no longer called Creeper. He calls me Beautiful, and I call him Handsome.

Stay tuned for the wedding post, here to come.

Thursday, April 19, 2012

Crazy Girl. . . .


I remember quite vividly almost crying as I prepared for the date with Creeper. I remember saying to myself over and over, "Why am I even going out with this guy?" I even talked myself out of canceling more than once. So when I locked and closed my front door at the awaited end of our evening out, I literally shook my head and asked myself the same thing, "Why did I even go out with this guy?" My nerves were so strong and my confusion because of his more than forwardness caused me to breath a huge sigh of relief as I walked downstairs to my twin bed alone.

I quickly forgot about Creeper and moved on. Even dating a guy I'd known from jr high that was in town for the week. But for some strange reason, about two weeks after the bizarre date, I couldn't get Creeper out of my head.

Before our first date, I remember talking to this guy on the phone the day before. I was at work. It was a slow day and so I decided to mop the floor. I mopped myself into a corner as my phone rang. It was him and we chatted for a bit as I sat on the bathroom counter waiting for the floor to dry. Now don't get me wrong here, I thought he was a decent guy or I wouldn't have gone out with him in the first place. So I somewhat enjoyed the telephone company. So two weeks later, I found myself mopping the floor once again on a slow work day and remembering him as I mopped myself into the corner of the men's bathroom. As I sat there on the counter waiting for the floor to dry, what he said kept pounding in my head like my heart after a good run. "I think I could make you happy."

"I think I could make you happy." repeated over and over again in my head. Almost hauntingly until I began to itch from the stress of it. I thought to myself, why on earth did after one date he think he could make me happy? I almost got angry at all this hypothetical thinking. An almost "how dare you" attitude began to react to his voice echoing in my mind. Then it struck me, he never called me back. Oh how my fiery emotions began to boil. Who does he think he is? Basically posing an eternal question at me on our first date and then disappearing. That "how dare you" attitude finally reared it's head.

Now to set the record straight, he did send me a message online thanking me for the date and telling me he had a good time, but I ignored it afraid he'd ask me out again. Boy did that come around and bite me in the butt!

He began to haunt my days and for almost a week I struggled with this. Thankfully I had my big move into my very own apartment to distract me. Or so I thought. All the unpacking kept my hands busy but fueled my mind because of all the quiet hours to myself. That itch of stress kept building until I finally, out of curiosity and anger, texted him a simple, "Hi how are you? I haven't heard from you for a while. How have you been?" I was bound and determined to stop thinking about him by finding out why he thought he could make me happy.

Four days later. . . .

I was a bit sad at him not responding, but again, I did ignore his first after date communication and so deserve whatever bed I made. So I continued onward in my life, until he responded.

I was oddly giddy at him getting back to me. I even teased him about his response time. But ended up talking to him for an unknown amount of time that night. I think it was almost four hours or so. Then again the next night, and the night after that. I had this strange draw to tell him about me. Like I needed, more than anything, to have him understand me. And so I talked. I talked about things only the walls heard me say. I could've easily been afraid or nervous, yet I was happy with him. So happy I asked him out. I invited him to a friend's Christmas party three days away. He responded with a yes, but only if I agreed to go to his work's Christmas party the following Saturday. I agreed and the dates were set.

The day of our second date came and after work I frantically fed and gathered my girls together rushing them out to be with their dad so I could come home and get ready. I cleaned the house, lit sweet smelling candles, vacuumed the floor so the carpet tracks were new, showered, and got myself ready, bouncy curls and all. I remember thinking to myself, "Why am I so excited to go out with this guy?" It was such a dramatic difference in myself between our first date and our second that I was questioning why as if I was going crazy. Then he knocked on my door.

Stay tuned for PART THREE.

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

Creep. . . .

So. . . I got married. Wanna hear the story?


Well, I dated this guy for a few months and I so thought he was the one. Until one day he told me that he had no intention of marrying me but that he was just looking for friendship. So I told him I don't kiss my friends and dumped him. I really wanted to say F*** OFF! but retained my composure and lady like demeanour.

Once that ended, I really didn't want to date. I was sick of the whole dating world. I hated the thought and even felt exhausted any time I tried to go on one. I wouldn't let myself NOT date because to me, that defined myself as "giving up", and that was something I was simply not about to do.

So back to the online dating world I went. Creeper after creeper came my way and away they went. Until one creeper caught my eye. First thing out of this creeper's online mouth was, "You're beautiful. Want to go out?" I simply laughed at the forwardness of this man.

Now let me back up. I had read many dating books and sought out many opinions and techniques on how to snag the perfect man and they all told me to not be too picky. To not look for perfection right off the bat, but to basically go out with a guy to simply breed competition over you in other men. So a while back, after F*** OFF! man broke my heart, I chose to always respond to anyone who said hello regardless if I wanted to date him as to put out the good energy of dating and hopefully cause the right guy to finally ask me out. Translation: Talk to guys so guys will talk to you. Treat others the way you want to be treated. This notion leads me to my response to "creeper" and why I thought he was one (at least at first).

I basically told him. "Thank you, but I'm not interested. Good Luck to you."

He responded with, "Why not?"

"Well, even though I do think you are very handsome, I am looking for a good LDS guy." I responded. (He had no religion posted on his page at the time.)

"Actually I am LDS."

"Well, that's wonderful! However, I think you are just too old for me." (He being 14 years older than me making him a "creeper".)

Our conversations continued as we spoke of religious topics and our own personal opinions on them. I had hopes that he would simply catch the net and leave me alone, but because I promised myself I wouldn't ignore anyone, I kept talking. Until one day he said, "So Sunday? I'll pick you up about six?" I decided to say yes and go out with him so I could finally be rid of him.

Sunday came and I was less than excited for our date. Almost to the point of dreading it. I don't think I even showered that day, that's how lax I was about the upcoming evening. But I did dress up, curl my hair and put on my evening make-up and heels. He picked me up right on time and away we went. Dinner was ordinary and at the usual first date location of the Olive Garden. -Why guys think that's the best first date dining I will never know. The conversation was led by his smile and followed by my nerves and shyness. I felt so uncomfortable. But then he scored points by taking me to a play. *He was the first and only guy to take me out based upon what he read in my profile. ie. Favorite things to do: I love the theatre!* Unfortunately for me, it was the play my brother was teching for at the U. My brother knowing I was coming, promptly greeted us as we entered. I felt embarrassed because it was so obvious that he was older than me and being that I was totally planning on not going out with this guy again, I knew my brother was going to ask about it later making this date seemingly unforgettable and not something I could simply sweep under the rug.

Anyway, the show started and he insisted on holding my hand and gently tickling it by rubbing his fingers along my palm. I hadn't been given affection like that for months and so I told myself, "enjoy it!" And enjoy it I did, under my coat so no one else would see.

Show was over and the date neared it's end. Or so I thought. He felt like ice cream and took me to 31 Flavors forcing me to endure another hour of awkwardness and nerves as he distracted my conversation with the tip of his right index finger gracing the back of my left hand.

Finally, we were headed home. But suddenly he pulls over just outside my neighborhood and my mind screamed "CREEPER!" I had no idea what he was doing. I was more than nervous at that point. I leaned towards the passenger door planning my escape route as the began to say, " I think I can make you happy." I did not expect that out of his mouth and instantly shut down. We talked about many things, nothing that registered as coherent for me at the time. I basically shot him down and he said, "I really like you. I think I can make you happy, but maybe not at everything. We can just be friends."

The shock of what just happened hadn't sunk in as he walked me to my door. He wasn't a creeper, just a very honest guy. But when he asked for a kiss I said no, gave him a hug, and quickly shut and locked to door behind me ending the most bizarre date I had ever been on.

Stay tuned for PART TWO.