Naked Finger Solution
Ever since I removed my wedding rings, I have felt like there was a giant strobe light focused on the ring finger on my left hand, alerting the media to my naked finger status. Even though I never wore my wedding rings 24/7, seeing that finger naked every day was bothering me. I even was paranoid enough to think that possibly other people were noticing my naked finger and looking at me with pity or contempt. Yes, I know this is crazy. On a completely materialistic note, I missed the sparkle of diamonds and the shimmer of light that occurred whenever I used my left hand to emphasize a point (especially if it happened to be in direct lighting).
While these are not good enough reasons to resume wearing my wedding rings (to put it mildly) I did discover a solution for my naked finger syndrome over the weekend. I was going through my jewelry box looking for earrings and came across my college ring. Not for nothing, but I went to a pretty well respected college, and my ring is quite classy: large, oval black stone with my school crest in gold, on a solid gold base. Sadly, I never wore my college ring very often. (I’ll admit that I mainly wore it for job interviews when I was just about to graduate college. I even tried to flash it around a bit, as if to say to prospective employers, “See! Good school! I must be a really smart chick, so you should definitely hire me.”)
When my ex and I became serious he gave me a pretty ring that I wore on my left ring finger until I did eventually receive my engagement ring. (I’m actually not sure what happened to that original ring as it seems to be missing from my jewelry box – very strange.)
Anyway, as you may have guessed, my college ring has now been appointed its proper place on my left ring finger. It’s classy (like me!) It’s smart (like me!) And most importantly, it symbolizes my accomplishments that I achieved on my own – for me alone. To others it may appear to be a simple ring, but to me it’s my “You’re a kickass chick with a brilliant future” ring.
I knew the Brontë sisters rocked
My soul is awakened,
my spirit is soaring
And carried aloft on the
wings of the breeze.
~ Anne Brontë
Stupid Bachelor B*tch
By the way, to the ignorant c*nt on the Bachelor who indicated that divorced women were like used cars who need their tires kicked to make sure they still work – F*ck you.
New Decade, New Rules?
So, the last time I explored the dating scene a lot of girls liked to play games. Men found women who didn’t buy into that mentality and who were their true selves refreshing. (At least that’s what always worked for me. Not for nothing, but when I’m not an emotional wreck, I can actually be quite charming.)
This time around, guys still proclaim that they don’t want a woman who plays games. Yet it seems men have developed games of their own to play. Which seems a bit hypocritical, if you ask me.
This is progress?
Because Daughtry put it better than I could
Now that it’s all said and done,
I can’t believe you were the one
To build me up and tear me down,
Like an old abandoned house.
What you said when you left
Just left me cold and out of breath.
I fell too far, was in way too deep.
Guess I let you get the best of me
Well, I never saw it coming.
And I should’ve started running
A long, long time ago.
And I never thought I’d doubt you,
I’m better off without you
More than you, more than you know.
I’m slowly getting closure.
I guess it’s really over.
I’m finally getting better.
And now I’m picking up the pieces.
From spending all of these years
Putting my heart back together.
‘Cause the day I thought I’d never get through,
I got over you
You took a hammer to these walls,
Dragged the memories down the hall,
Packed your bags and walked away.
There was nothing I could say.
And when you slammed the front door shut,
A lot of others opened up,
So did my eyes so I could see
That you never were the best for me.
Well, I never saw it coming.
And I should’ve started running
A long, long time ago.
And I never thought I’d doubt you,
I’m better off without you
More than you, more than you know.
I’m slowly getting closure.
I guess it’s really over.
I’m finally getting better.
And now I’m picking up the pieces.
From spending all of these years
Putting my heart back together.
‘Cause the day I thought I’d never get through,
I got over you.
“Over You” by Chris Daughtry and Brian Howes
Pity Party for One
I received news late last night that a childhood friend delivered a baby girl. Mother and child are healthy. This was especially wonderful news because she’d had an extremely difficult pregnancy and ended up having her labor induced out of concern for the life of the baby. This is a girl with whom I grew up, whose mother has been best friends with my mother since they were 12 years old. I am truly happy for their entire family.
But forgive me for feeling a little bitter.
I’m beginning to feel like everywhere I look family and friends my age (and younger!) are having children. Expanding their families. Living the dream. The dream I desperately wanted.
And I blew it.
Logically I know it’s not all my fault. And that the only thing worse than going through this divorce would be going through this divorce after having had a child by this man, which would mean being tied to him forever (or at least 18 years).
But I see my parents excitedly congratulate their family members and friends as they become grandparents. It’s happening more and more often. And now it will never be their turn to receive these congratulations in return.
So I not only blew it for me, I blew it for them.
If I ever had a son, I wanted to name him after my father. It was a secret I kept to myself (along with my former husband) because I wanted to be able to surprise my dad if the day were to ever come. If I ever had a daughter I wanted to name her after my great-grandmother – a feisty redhead who immigrated to America in the early 1900s, never really learned to speak English very well, yet managed to successfully take very good care of herself and her family, even fighting off a mugger when she was in her 70s.
Those imagined children are now fading into the mist. Just like the rest of my dreams.
I know, I know, it’s time to focus on new dreams. Unfortunately biology is a bit unfair in that women don’t have forever to have children. Yes, adoption is an option, even for single parents (an option I will seriously consider when I’m nearing 40 with no partner in sight.) Still, call me selfish, call me self-centered, call me petty and mean and anything else under the sun (I deserve it). As heartfelt as my congratulations are to parents everywhere (and they really are) I can’t help feeling the sting of losing what I never had.
