Sometimes we people who have lost special people talk about them more than what people are comfortable with. We inject their names into conversations with family, friends, new lovers, and strangers. (Let me just apologize right now for over sharing to my new neighbor yesterday while we were both shoveling snow.) We don’t even realize we are doing it. We actually make conscious efforts not to do this, which probably makes it worse.
Maybe we are afraid they will forget them. Even worse, we may be afraid we are forgetting them. Maybe it is that we are now stewards of shared memories that are ours alone now. Maybe we just want to hear their names being spoken, and confirmation that they aren’t being forgotten by other people. Whatever the reason for it, it makes some people uncomfortable when we talk about our dead.
There is also how to share stories of your life with potential dates without telling the other person that you are a widow, and the tricky use of the word “I” instead of “we”.
So you can imagine how combining dating and grieving has been. It’s like seeing a car wreck. You want to look away, but it is sorta fascinating. There’s me who is cra cra and usually goes to dinner and gets engaged, and some nice guy who has no idea what the next hour of his life is going to be like. Some of the experiences have been fun, some have been odd, but most have been with very nice men who for whatever reason it hasn’t worked out. The comments i get when they find out I am widowed range from compassion, to referring to Mike as my “ex husband”, to one guy who owns an insurance company flat out saying he couldn’t deal with dating a widow. I did tell him that i didn’t kill Mike, but that didn’t make a difference. Next!
Then there was the guy I met for breakfast who put mayonnaise on his eggs. Mayo on your scrambled eggs? There had to be seriously something wrong with him. I didn’t stick around to find out. I’m sorry if you are reading this mayo man, but my advice is keep that kink in your closet a little longer next time.
I thought i had been told all of my flaws when i got divorced from my first husband, but no. I’ve been told things about my personality even i didn’t know and i have known myself a long time. I actually ended a texting exchange with someone i had gone out with a few times with “Bye Player.” I then figured out how to block him. Which was a first for me.
I had drinks with a lawyer, and we had a spirited conversation about dna, genetic mutations, and gene therapy. Things were going well until he told me that he doesn’t believe in monogamy. Check!
I decided maybe i would date a widower. They know better than anyone what this life is like. It was going great, until we shared funeral stories, both ended up in tears, and mutually decided to never see each other again except for on facebook where I message him every now and again to remind him that things could be worse, he could still be dating me. lol
I’ve locked my phone, keys, and purse in my car and had to ask the guy I had a drink with to use his phone to call a tow truck. He had a roll of toilet paper in his back seat. I didn’t ask. Some things are better off unasked.
I’ve discovered i don’t like v neck sweaters or jewelry on men. I also don’t care to be addressed as “hey, sexy.” If you are over 6 ft tall though i’ll reconsider all of the above, except mayo man. That’s just weird.
Thankfully i’ve been spared of any real douche canoes.. or maybe my picker has gotten better. It could also be that even the douche bags are scared of the widow woman. Whatever the reason, i’m grateful.
It’s a very delicate balance to date at my age. By now, everyone has their own baggage to carry. It’s kind of like finding someone who’s quirks match up with your quirks. Because here’s a shocker- We all have quirks.
Finally.. we lost our subscribers when we updated the blog, so if you want this hot mess blog to come to your email, and i can’t imagine why you would, there’s an email sign up box on the side.
I miss him.