September 3

Two years ago today I got married.

Two years ago today, at this exact time, I was running around like a headless chicken, with a tear-stained face trying to be excited while fear gripped at me. Was I about to make a big mistake?

Then, with F.

You know that thing where they tell you to listen to your gut? Yeah. I didn't.

We had a beautiful ceremony and an equally beautiful reception which I spent separated from my new husband, as he was busy "consoling" his mother. I danced to S Club 7 with my best friend, drank a lot of wine and I mingled with family and friends until it was time to pack it all in. I remember vividly the moment we got back to our rental house for the weekend - some of our bridal party opted to stay up and keep the party going. I went to bed, exhausted.

When we separated six months later, I was devastated but things immediately felt right.

I don't even remember what I did last year. But today I'll go to school and I'll go to work. I'll drink about five cups of coffee. I'll call my parents. I'll talk to friends. I'm hoping to get to Home Depot to pick up a couple of little things. Just for the Hell of it, though, I'm going to reflect on the milestones of the last two years.

Such as:

J has seen our son 0 times in 2013. In 2012, the grand total was 6.

I haven't heard from J in more than six months. He hasn't contacted our son since he texted me ON F'S BIRTHDAY to say he was drinking and couldn't come over. He didn't even send a card.

Classy, right?

I'm also going to pick up a bottle of wine tonight and I'm going to toast myself for not going completely crazy. I'm going to raise a glass to F, because he's the driving force behind every single thing I do. I'm going to toast my amazing parents and friends who have supported me, held my hand, offered a shoulder to cry on and given me a healthy dose of reality when needed.

Now (in matching shirts, no less!)

And then, I'm going to climb into my big, beautiful queen size bed with my stuffed sheep and the terrorist kitten and I'm going to sleep.

Alone.

And totally happy.

extinguished

The problem with dating, I've come to discover, is that people actually expect a relationship on the other side of the date. After spending my entire adult life in a relationship, my year of singledom has changed me in many ways - so much so that I'm torn between the loneliness of being, well, alone and the drama-free existence of it. I never thought I'd see the day when I'd rather be single, but it looks like it's here - of course, arguably, I may not have met the right person...

...or have I?

I've been out on a few dates over the past couple of months, and I now think I might be the Queen of First Dates. I've met lots of great men, but I find faults and make deal breakers of their quirks, lifestyles, jobs and (shallowly) their appearances - though, if you ask me, life is too short to wear ugly shoes. I've become a bit of a snob, and I can honestly say I've set my standards impossibly high. I sit down post-date and pick apart the other person, intentionally extinguishing any interest or spark I was feeling.

I want someone smart, but not smarter than me because I'm afraid of feeling stupid. He needs to have an education, a good sense of humour and quite frankly, I need to find him attractive. If he doesn't like kids, he's absolutely barking up the wrong tree and don't get me started on poor grammar. He also had better be able to deal with my busy schedule, general flightiness and the fact that I'll likely publish our relationship.

Even if I'm really into someone during our date, I find myself tarnishing the positive image I had of that person by the next evening. Why? Well, the jury is still out on that one. Maybe I just need to find the spark...

...or not douse it when I see it.

Yearling

Saturday marked one whole year of singledom. 12 months. 52 weeks. 365 days. 8760 hours. 525600 minutes. It sounds like a lot, and a year ago I would have sworn I'd never make it to this end but I did and it doesn't feel like much longer than the blink of an eye.

Just like in the days and weeks leading up to our wedding anniversary, his birthday, Christmas and New Years I've found myself struggling with the emotions surrounding the process of letting go. Moving on, I've learned, isn't as easy as putting it all behind you. Walking away is much more than putting one foot in front of the other.

At times, I'm frustrated with myself but as the days have turned into months I find I can go weeks without thinking about him, but that makes me even more sad: to know that someone who was such an important part of my life is so absent from it today. Now, we can officially file for divorce. It's so real now - as real as the fact I haven't gotten so much as a text from him in 4 weeks. I vow to let go of my sadness once and for all. No more grieving what could have been.

It's high time I celebrate my life and the changes I've made in it. My energy is better spent laughing than crying, working my way forward than looking back and finding beauty in the world instead of clinging to the sorrows I've encountered. So I propose a toast at 7:16am on a Wednesday. *Coffee mug raised*

Here's to new opportunities, great friends and making my dreams come true. Cheers!

Ignore-A-Text

I suck at dating.

I hate hurting people's feelings or letting someone down. I'm genuinely flattered by someone's interest, but I also get sick of people way too quickly. I consider it nothing shy of a miracle that I've been in 4 long-term relationships, although I'm just realizing now that all of them (including my marriage) were long-distance for the most part. It's now less surprising that I put up with those people for so long, but I digress.

People.

Upon moving into the city, I had decided that I was going to meet lots of new people whether at school, at the park or through friends new and old. I planned on having an open mind, going on dates and just having fun, so I did. I met new people. I went on dates and I had fun just being out, but I'm stuck with what you might call some "clingers" now.

Avoiding future "dates" by being "super busy" didn't solve the problem, so I decided to gently lay it all out on the table with the age-old "I'm don't feel like I can get involved" line. That didn't seem to work either. So now I'm just straight-up ignoring the texts. Lucky for me, the phone hasn't started ringing. If it does, I might have a meltdown.

These were genuinely nice guys: they were kind, funny,  attractive and they had jobs (bonus!). For about a week, I thought I was really into one of them but that faded after his 476th text. Another I only met once for coffee, but he's asked me out about two dozen times since then. I haven't responded to the last text asking me to go out this week. I've run out of excuses and "Sorry, but I'm obviously less interested than you are" just seems a little too harsh.

Maybe I'll just be super busy for another little while until they run out of energy. Or interest.

Whichever comes first.