A friend of mine found himself instantly and achingly attracted to a woman he met at a business mixer. She was an accomplished young executive, like himself. An extrovert who never met a stranger, like himself. Interested in politics, well versed in novels and music, beautiful and confident to a point bordering on cockiness. Like himself.
The attraction horrified him, especially once he realized it was returned.
She was single. He was married.
Out of the corner of the eye I saw he’d texted me, which isn’t unusual but in the past few weeks had been less frequent. We’ve both been busy: he has gone back to school and I have been traveling quite a bit for work. And there were the holidays: Parties. Family. Gatherings. Shopping. Lots of people to please.
I know, right? Serious Third World / “This is 40” problems.
For an insecure little second I wondered if he was cancelling our date tonight. Continue reading
Nashville singles: The following is a list of potential suitors.
It began as a text exchange between a fellow single mom and me. You should note that this particular friend and I have a texting parlance that affords us to know such things as Android phones inexplicably capitalize “Shit” and iPhones do a likewise thing with a word I can’t bring myself to type on the internet.
So take this list with a grain of salt.
Several youngish divorced women and I recently swapped stories of our “crazy year(s)” — that whacked-out period after our marriages ended when we had no idea how to behave like normal single people. The conversation brought to mind a favorite relationship analogy: Divorce as a swimming pool. It goes like this:
Swimming pools are great.
A lot of us grew up aspiring to have one in the backyard.