When I first got divorced, I was convinced no man would ever want me in any way ever again. That feeling faded ever so slowly, leaving me facing the first thoughts of “dating” sometime around the three month mark. At that point, my decision to “date” was heavily skewed towards revenge… I wanted a hotter date, a better man… I wanted someone who would make my Ex realize that I was full on winning at our divorce. I wanted him to want me, to see what I was doing and to wish I was doing it with him. I wanted him to realize what he’d lost.
That stage lasted a while, making me feel like I was chasing a golden ring… never quite able to get that one gut punch in that I wanted to deliver. He was always a step ahead, dating longer, dating heavier, screwing more than I could even keep track of. I couldn’t beat him at his own game and so I quit, delving back into hibernation sometime around the holidays and giving up the idea of “revenge” on my ex-husband.
When the concept of dating came back around to my addled brain, the only thing I could think of was the physical. What man would want me for anything other than that? Who would want a scarred and battered woman with the “baggage” of an ex-husband and that other man’s child? Who would want to plan dates around babysitters or bedtime? Who would want me for anything other than a one night stand or a quick hook up?
I didn’t think I was worth more than that.
I didn’t think anyone else would ever want me for more than that.
And so I “dated” all the wrong sorts of men… ones who I fought off at the end of the date even as I wondered if I should just embrace that as my future, as my reality. I looked for the guys I knew I’d never fall for… the ones who I felt would never look at me as anything other than a piece of meat… the ones who would look at me the way I planned to look at them.
I wasn’t after revenge any more… at least not on my ex-husband. I was seeking revenge on myself, on my choices, on my past. I wanted to erase my marriage from my mind, filling myself instead with thoughts of anything and any one else. Especially if they were temporary. Only if they were temporary.
But then something strange happened. I took a long hard look at someone temporary and realized I didn’t want him that way… not like that. I realized that what was supposed to be temporary was growing on me, making me laugh, making me wish for more than, well… temporary.
I realized that I don’t want temporary any more.
I realized that maybe, just maybe, I deserve more than that. Maybe I am worth more than that. Maybe I want more than that.
And so I am putting myself out there for real this time, looking for more than just inappropriate. I’m putting myself out there, heart, mind, soul… allowing someone else the opportunity to hurt me.
And even though I know that someone will, even though I know that temporary can always and only BE temporary… It’s still time to allow myself thoughts of more. Even though, or perhaps because, they scare me so very much.