It’s Not a Match

Writing about your dating life isn’t necessarily easy. And yet, it’s still easier than actually dating. I’ve been a little slow writing this sequel to Plenty of Fish in the Sea, but a recent article in the Buffalo News was so sympathetic to my plight, I knew it was time for an update. (Mom and Dad, do NOT panic. And maybe don’t keep reading along.)

I can’t JUST include the link– I must SHOW you the article for complete and thorough understanding of this bizarro world of online dating:

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A new study lists Buffalo as the nation’s most dangerous city for online dating.

The study, conducted by security review company SafeWise and HighSpeedInternet.com, ranked 56 U.S. cities based on two risk factors that researchers said were key to online dating safety: STD cases and violent crime rates, both adjusted for population. Using these metrics, researchers produced safety scores for each city.

With the highest STD rate in the study and the 11th highest violent crime rate, Buffalo was found to be twice as dangerous for online dating as the study’s next most dangerous city, Riverside, Calif.

“Buffalo residents may not have a lot to do while cooped up indoors for those long Buffalo winters, but clearly some people could use more precaution,” one of the researchers, John Dilley, wrote in a summary of the findings.

Alrighty then.

STDs and violent crime? So basically Gonorrhea and stabbings? Is that all you got, Online Dating?  Psssh.  Buffalonians are a hearty bunch. You’re going to have to do better than that!

(And yet. This article still says nothing of the other real danger out there: The Heartbreak.)


I must point out– the few people I met and went on actual dates with were TOTAL gentlemen. Total. (No STDs or violent crimes, thank the sweet baby Jesus) It was weeding out the crazies to actually get to the first date part that was the toughest. But still, I was in near tears before every first date. My girlfriend would say to me EVERY SINGLE TIME, “For F*#&s sake, Bean– it’s a DRINK. Not a proposal.” And I would whine back, “I knoowwwww. But I don’t wanna goooooo.”  Super attractive, right? And I get it- you’re thinking, wait- I thought you wanted to meet people and date…?

Well I do. But I just want to skip ahead to the part where we’re happy and it’s a match. Are you saying that’s not realistic?

So I started corresponding with a few people and emailing back and forth and getting to know each other a little bit, because that’s how this gig works. And I did go on a few first dates.

Here is a very abridged version of my experience:

#1 was married and still living with his wife. This was a touch confusing. I thought- well- I thought we were all gonna be single and available. “We” weren’t. Not a match.

#2 was not a match from the second we met— and when he said he didn’t believe in God, I told him that was a deal breaker for me. Later in the week he messaged me to say he was going to attend church that weekend and “give it a try.” (I make the boys believe in God! It’s like magic! ) Ultimately I told him I would’ve had more respect for someone who stayed true to their beliefs (or lack thereof) than someone who was so willing to jump the atheist ship for a girl– ‘cuz we’re not just talking about switching from Protestant to Episcopalian. We’re talking about THE EXISTENCE OF GOD. It’s not a match.

I can’t even remember #3. I was too jacked up from #1 and #2

On Date #4, I distinctly recall waiting and wishing he would swear first so we could just sort of relax a little. And also order a third drink. It was not a match.

There was also one in there that- I’m not exaggerating- spent THE ENTIRE date talking about his ex and repeatedly and emphatically convincing me just how over her he is.  Even the bartender was rolling his eyes. Check please. Not a match.

On the last date, I knew from the second we met it was not a match. His online persona and his real life persona were… incongruous. And that’s being polite about it.

And then I quit Match. I cried and quit and shut down my profile. Match could go match itself.

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And then I tried one more time because I only learn from my mistakes after I make them approximately 437 times. (On the low end.) And whaddya know? I met a match. I fell in love. And then it turned out to just..not be a match.  No matter how much I wish it were or wanted it to be. Love is a complicated thing. Not everyone is for everyone.

More than 500 times once I’ve said, “As soon as I saw him, I knew we were not a match”, and I’m not just talking about someone being attractive. Each of us has a very unique and specific vibe that is made up of so much more than just physical appearance: Body language, mannerisms, energy, spirit… So much of our chemistry and attraction with another person is about everything that’s unspoken.  Within minutes of meeting someone, your subconscious is already deciding if this person feels good to be around and is someone you’d want in your space. (So to speak. Ahem.)

There are three general immediate responses:

“This is okay.”

“No. This just doesn’t feel like me

Or “THIS! THIS! THIS! ALL DAY LONG THIS!”

The last one is like a unicorn–rare and extremely hard to find.

The heart wants what the heart wants. The heart is not always schooled in reality. Sometimes the heart is a drunken fool that won’t shut up. That’s the problem. You think you know exactly what you want and you think you know exactly what you don’t want. Getting those things to collide, well, that’s another story.

Stay tuned. And if you live in Buffalo, stay safe my friends. Love is a dangerous game.

 

Plenty of Fish in the Sea

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The thing about dating is eventually you’re either going to break up or get married, and the truth is, I don’t want to do either– so you can see my dilemma.  But about a year ago, I felt like it was time to make my social circle a little wider if I ever hoped to be in a relationship again. When you work from home and like to spend your off hours in bed with a book, your options become pretty limited. (Plus I had already dated my boss and the UPS man. Hi guys!) I was either going to have to quit, move, or join an online dating site– and since I love my job and my home… Enter Match.com

I approached Match the way I do any new project: competitively and with enthusiasm. I was going to have the best dating profile out there! And honestly, after creating it,  I wanted to date myself so hard. I had the best pictures (Look how cute I am!) The most appealing descriptions and write up of myself (I’m NOT COMPLICATED AT ALL!) The most fun sounding life (Likes to watch sports and grab a beer and hardly spends any time reading and writing alone and crying herself to sleep!)

I did not understand at the time what a huge mistake this was.  HUGE. All you really need when you decide to “get out there” is a pulse.  Instead, I sold myself as the Taj Mahal of girlfriends and within minutes, it was game on.

Day 1: Wow! This is so flattering! Woah! I’ve still got it! Hey, look at all these winks and likes and emails! This is so fun! Why didn’t I do this sooner?  How did online dating get a bad rap?? I’ll have a date in no time!

Day 1, hours later: WOW. Okay. WOW. This is a LOT. How will I ever sort through all of this? I think I might need to use an alternative email address. And I don’t think a lot of these people look like a “match”, if you know what I’m saying. But hey. Think positive! There are a lot of people out there looking for love. Plenty of fish in the sea and all that jazz!

End of Day 1: Responds to almost every inquiry with kind and thoughtful comments such as, “Since you live in Ohio, that’s slightly out of my geographical range” or “I’m not sure we’re a match, but I hope you find what you’re looking for” and “No thank you.”

Day 2: How could I possibly have 73 emails already today? These people are a little bit aggressive. Don’t they sleep? Were they on here during the night? What about work? This is like a part-time job. And why does HOT4U374 look like the same exact guy as URman109? Is that the same person?

Day 2, hours later: LET ME LIVE. I DON’T LIKE ANY OF YOU. NO ONE WINKS THIS MUCH IN REAL LIFE- AND IF YOU DID, we would NEVER date. EVER. STOP it. And it’s “you’re” not “your”.

End of Day 2: I cannot even check my email. I cannot jump on Match to “see what’s out there” because you trolls might notice I’m online and try to chat me. I’m going to read in my bed. ALONE. And all of you should, too.

Day 3: Turns profile off.  Orders Chinese food and binge watches Sex and the City.

It’s fun being me!

Stay tuned to hear about my first dates… also known as “It’s Not a Match”

Because People-Love

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Every single day I’m reminded how beautiful my life really is. But every single day I’m also reminded how hard life can be. And hard times feel even harder during the holidays. My dear friend, Sister Johnice at the Response to Love Center in Buffalo, NY helps take care of people during hard times. And honestly? It’s so easy to make a difference. Way too easy to sit back and do nothing. This time of year wipes out the food pantry at the center. And when clients do come in, many of them have no winter gloves. Over the next few weeks I’ll be collecting canned food and winter gloves for adults.

If you’re a Buffalo local, would you consider adding to my Canned Food & Winter Gloves Collection? I’d love to have you join me.

Wondering how I got connected to the RTLC? Diapers. It was through Diapers. Read more here…

Where I End and You Begin

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Not long ago I was on a first date with a nice guy. (We’ve already had our last date, but I’ll get to that later.And if it seems as though I’ve become the Taylor Swift of dating and then writing about it, I feel that. And you’re welcome.)

My date and I were chatting over a few drinks and having a very typical getting-to-know-you type of conversation when he started to describe a sticky situation in his life. It was a little weird and after he finished describing it and how he got into it, etc… He looked at me and smiled and said, “But if I were in a relationship with someone who didn’t approve and asked me to get out of it, I would.”

You could tell he thought that was a pretty smooth, impressive thing to say. And a few years ago, I would’ve thought it was too. Except now I have better boundaries. (Thank you, therapy. I love you. You are the one for me.)

And so instead, I thought, wait what?

Side Note: If the dating scene isn’t a freakin’ messy and bizarre melting pot of bad boundaries and crazy boundaries and no boundaries, I don’t know what is. And admittedly, I have not perfected the art of boundaries, so I’m not throwing stones as much as I’m making observations. But even I knew we had a boundary situation on our hands here.

A Boundary is a definite place where your responsibility ends and another person’s responsibility begins. Boundaries stop you from doing things for others that they should be doing for themselves.

A Boundary prevents you from rescuing someone from the consequences of their destructive behavior that they need to experience in order to grow.

Boundaries help other people understand how you will and will not be treated.

A lack of boundaries invites a lack of respect.

I smiled sweetly at my date and said, “You are a grown man. And I’m a grown woman. I would never tell you what to do and you will never tell me what to do. You’ve chosen to be in that situation and that’s cool. But it will never be my job to tell you to get out of it. What I would end up telling you is that it’s not for me, but I wish you well.” (That’s some fine boundary-setting. Well done, Jules!)

Good luck! Godspeed!

Next.

He seemed to be a little confused that I wasn’t swooning over this generous offer to let me dictate his behavior.  But now the idea of that makes me want to run. I have a hard enough time figuring out my own stuff- I don’t want to figure out yours too, buddy.  And why on earth would you want me to?

Fast forward a few weeks and this same nice guy cancelled plans at the last minute twice and stood me up once.

And I’m not the kind of girl who gets stood up twice.

So that was the end of that.

But funny thing, he started calling and texting again recently. And I very nicely told him that the way he operates and communicates is not for me. I like him. He’s a nice guy. But I won’t be treated that way. (More good boundaries. Rock. On.)

Boundaries make it so simple, don’t they? They aren’t meant to be mean or inflexible. They’re meant to keep us safe and keep expectations clear. We teach people how to treat us. And when we’re clear about what we’ll tolerate and what we won’t, it helps both people decide if the relationship will work for them. If it won’t, we can both move on.

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It’s much harder to set boundaries with people we love deeply–Our children. Our partner. Our parents or sibs. We don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings or see people we love suffer. But the truth is, we’re the ones who end up suffering when we fail to put healthy boundaries in place.

I’m getting better at boundaries all the time. And now that I’ve prioritized self-respect in my life, it’s easy to recognize situations that compromise my boundaries.

So how about you? Do you know where you end and someone else begins? If you don’t, there’s no better time to figure it out than now. But I’m not telling you what to do. Because that’s your job, not mine.

BOOM.

 

 

Well That Escalated Quickly

Literally just DAYS after I posted my last blog, {How Does a Widowed and Divorced Single Mom Teach Her Kids About Love}   the relationship I was in fell apart. Like. Nuclear.

And one of the first things I thought was:

“EFF! Why did I just write that stupid Pollyanna post about love and believing in love and love being a good thing?? Why was I feeling all shiny and Valentine-y and loving and like I needed to write about it??”

Because that’s what I do. Because that’s Real Life. Truthfully.

Which is why I’m writing this.

I wrote it because I was trying. Trying to love smart. Trying to be optimistic. Trying to believe it was true.

But unfortunately, it wasn’t.

And also Real Life, Truthfully?  My knee-jerk reaction was predictable.

I hate love. I hate relationships. Men suck. Men are all the same. This is why I like being single. Single is easy. And fun. And free. This is…Shambolic. Calamity. Nonsense. 

But the next day as I was regrouping from disappointment and anger, I started flipping through one of my favorite new books, Brave Enough by Cheryl Strayed. Every single page has a powerful punch of a quote– and I came across these:

The first one got me totally fired up.

Yes, Cheryl Strayed! Yes!

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But then there was this one, which had me like…Ugh.

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And finally, there was this. The worst one of all:

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“To love and be loved. That is the meaning of life.”

Sigh. Eye roll. So precious.

Except it’s true.

There is TONS of love in my life. Romantic love is only one stream in a vast and deep and breathtaking ocean of love. Love rains down on my life from so many different directions, in a hundred different ways from the loyal people in my tribe.  And all of this love… it is, indeed, what gives my life such beautiful meaning.

So.

Love still doesn’t suck. Love is a good thing. Sometimes people suck. Sometimes things don’t work out quite the way we pictured. (Um. Make that most of the time.)

But love is still the meaning of life.

And I still believe.

 

How Does a Widowed and Divorced Single Mom Teach Her Kids About Love?

I always wondered how my kids would feel about their own love lives as they got older. Without a happy, healthy marriage model to watch and learn from, what would  be their takeaway? Will they want to get married some day? Are they jaded about love and relationships? Will they recognize and value real love when they see it and feel it?

And Valentine’s Day has always been a little bit like a litmus test in my own love life. After being widowed and divorced, I haven’t always loved love. And for a while, I kind of hated love. And then after I hated it, I felt cynical about it. I felt snarky and sarcastic. I felt just OVER the whole love thing. Been there. Done that. No thank you.

And then I felt nothing.

But this past year, I did it.

I opened the door.

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I let myself feel something.

And it turns out, feeling something was so much better than feeling  nothing.

And so this what my kids and I are learning, side by side:

Love is a good thing.

Love is good. Real love is good. It’s sweet and tender and kind and fun. It’s taken me a long time to feel this way again. To really believe it. To look at love, to think of love, to hear about love– and feel loving towards it. To want it. To accept it. To embrace it. To smile about it. To stop being afraid of it and pushing it away. Real, true love is a good thing. Love doesn’t stink. Love doesn’t suck. I had to consciously stop playing that record in my head. Relationships that feel like that are not love– they’re something– but they’re not love. Real love is a good thing.

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You know what love is by the way it feels.

Love feels good. When my kids see that I’m peaceful. That I’m happy. That I laugh and smile a lot in my own love relationship, they understand: Love feels good.

And that’s  important.

But they also learn what real love feels like through my relationship with them.

When we have deep conversations about important life stuff and they feel heard and understood, they’re learning what love feels like. When they’re having a rough day and I take time to comfort them and be “in it” with them, they’re learning what love feels like. When I’m   one of us is crabby and short and tired, and we backtrack to apologize and make things right between us, this is what love feels like.

When their feelings are validated and there’s space for them to be who they are and feel what they feel. When we share goofy stories and inside jokes and text funny things to each other. When they get “just because” gifts. When we have dinner together and everyone shares the “Happy and Crappy” from their day.  When they catch my eye during a school concert or sporting event and know I am cheering them on. When we sit in my bed together and quietly read, side by side. When everything goes right or wrong or both, and we are with each other through it all, they’re learning what love feels like.

This is what love feels like. All of it.

I’m no longer going to underestimate my ability to teach my kids about love. I’m no longer going to feel shame that somehow a widowed, divorced single mom can’t successfully teach her kids to fully know and recognize healthy love. I’m not going to feel insecure about it. I don’t buy it. I don’t believe it.

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But I do believe in love.

I do.

And if a widowed and divorced single mom can believe in love, her kids can too.

 

 

 

 

 

Making Space for Love

FullSizeRender (2)Today’s blog is a re-post from earlier this year, in honor of the baby who inspired it. She’s 13 today. A gorgeously fresh 13.  She was a baby I wasn’t sure I was ready for after so much loss. Baby Number 3. And then when she finally got here, I am overheard on the video–my voice hoarse and strained from labor–in total disbelief: “It’s a GIRL? A GIRL??” What? All along I had thought her to be a boy. I sort of thought I wanted a boy. But instead, she turned out to be everything I didn’t know I wanted. My joy baby. She is all the best parts of me, only better. Her wit, her style, her humor, her sarcasm. She makes me laugh hard, every single day. I can’t believe she’s 13 today, but it’s hard to be sad because she just keeps becoming more magical…right before my eyes.

And as I’m typing this, said child literally just came in my room, looked at herself in the mirror, declared, “I am a mini you.” Smiled, and walked out. I should be so lucky.

Happy Birthday, Smush. Thanks for making life so fun.


I should’ve been resting, but everyone knows a hospital is no place for rest. My brand new pink tiny bundle of joy lay tightly swaddled beside me in the clear acrylic nursery crib. And even though I most certainly did feel all of the sweet and tender feelings a new mom is supposed to, there was something else roiling inside I wasn’t expecting:

Fear.

Fear of not having enough love for 3 kids.

Fear of there not being enough of me to go around.

Fear of my two older kids being cheated out of getting their needs met.

Fear of just not enough.

And that was it. Between the exhaustion and post-pregnancy hormones, the tears started falling and wouldn’t stop. I lie there in the dark with my hours-old baby girl and sobbed, knowing sleep wouldn’t come until I understood how it was all going to work.

And in the middle of the night, in my WAY overly emotional state, I remember thinking I had discovered the keys to the kingdom: We’re created with an infinite capacity to love. And when new people — babies we birth and babies we adopt, step-children and new family members, new friends and lovers and neighbors and co-workers, fellow travelers who were previous strangers — somehow make their way into our lives,

Our hearts expand and we make space for more love.

That’s it.

There’s no competition.

It’s not a tight squeeze or an ill fit or a just barely made it.

There’s no shortage or rationing.

We’re all in.

There’s room for everybody.

Our hearts expand and love makes space.

How small-minded and silly to think maybe my heart wouldn’t be big enough and strong enough and soft enough to love all three of my babies at once; To think there was a limit to my heart’s capacity.

But to be honest, I didn’t just think this way about babies.  I thought this about the rest of my love life, too. At one time or another, we’ve all experienced a love that made us feel as though this were it– we never would or could feel love like this again. And maybe we didn’t want to. (Widowed and divorced over here…remember?)

But wouldn’t that be so sad? To think love was so limited and exclusive? (A year ago, I would’ve said no. That’s not sad. That’s awesome. Love can go fly a kite or play in traffic.) Yet I realize everyday now that over the course of a lifetime filled with hundreds and thousands of people and experiences on our journey’s way, our hearts expand and love makes space. We have the ability to love an infinite number of people with infinite types of love. We never run out. The well never runs dry. Somehow, there is an indeclinable source.

I know, I know, I know. This from the same girl who, a year ago, wasn’t sure she still believed in love. This from the same girl who, last Valentine’s Day, declared herself her OWN Valentine. But as life (and love) would have it, this past year the people around me, both old and new, poured more love into my life than I ever would’ve imagined. And in spite of my weathered and worn out rose-colored glasses and snarky commentaries on love, my heart expanded and love made space.

And so Happy Valentine’s Day to you. I hope you can look back on this past year of your life too, and see just how much love is all around you–just how much space there is for love. And the good news is, there’s still room for more.