Divorceymoon Part I

So, I finally moved out of my marital home and stopped talking to my husband. It happened over a series of months, and a series of uncomfortable realizations.

First, I'll be honest: my husband and I had continued to be physically intimate, flirtatious and friendly until Thanksgiving of this year. In spite of everything that had happened, the relationship was still a lot more comfortable to stay in than it was to leave. Garrett and I get along, we laugh a lot, we genuinely care for each other.

That being said, there was a tipping point for me that occurred around Thanksgiving. Preceding this tipping point, I had reconnected with, and been emailing off and on with the first man I genuinely fell in love with--mind you, this was an adolescent love interest that was never able to come into full fruition because he was five years older than me. When I met him (and obsessed about him for years), it would have been both illegal and unreasonable for anything to actually happen. He did promise me though, that one day, when I was older, things would be different.

I kept in touch with this man, on and off, over the years and wondered about him from time to time. Among other things, he always reminds me of what it felt like when my heart was young, pure and undamaged by the battlefields of adult relationships. There is something about him that is still able, after all of these years, to evoke a feeling in me that is truly pure. My feelings for him where not ever about ME, how he made ME feel, or what he could do for ME. In fact, it was more about HIM--how interesting and exciting HE was, how kind and genuine HE is, and the indescribable beauty I have always seen, and continue to see, in HIM. I do, and have always, deeply admired who he his, and how he lives his life.

When I reconnected with him this fall, I was a bit taken aback about the fact that he was exactly how I remembered him being: intelligent, interesting, curious, well-spoken, and above all, very, very kind and considerate. Unfortunately, he is also married to a beautiful, talented, and interesting woman. Exactly what I would have expected of him. And, in a sense, that was comforting. Often I have felt that when I reconnected with past loves, they were very different than I had remembered--and to be honest, I struggled to understand what the initial attraction may have been about. In this case, it was comforting to know that he was perhaps even better than I could have really appreciated in my youth, and I had shown good judgement in my attraction to this man. And, that he had chosen a mate that seemed very appropriate for him. I felt happy about this.

I also felt very emotionally attracted to him, and struggled with the morality of my most basic interactions with him, knowing my own feelings, and knowing that he was committed to another. While we were merely catching up, sharing nostalgic memories of our youths, and talking about mutual interests/passions, I knew better than to trust myself and to trust my motives in such a situation. Thus, I tried to keep things as restrained and appropriate as I possibly could.

The breaking point came when my husband informed me that he was romantically perusing his co-worker who was in a committed relationship/marriage to another man. I noticed that something was "off" with him when he told me that he was going to a rave. Mind you, we are in our 30's. The last time I went to a rave was way, way over a decade ago. And, to my knowledge, my husband had never shown any interest in electronic music or had been to a rave in his life--definite point of curiosity. Next, he texted me to ask how to make pies. Hhmmm..... I gave him my advice and even asked my mother if she had any additional tips. I stopped by the house several hours later to find he had been furiously working on these pies to bring to his co-workers house for the greater part of the day. This, with the attendance at the rave, and his changes in communication patterns had risen some red flags. I had noticed the day before that he had not replied to my texts about some plans we had. Garrett always responds to my texts about practical matters. Perhaps he doesn't respond to every text about how cute or special the dog is, but he definitely responds promptly to practical matters.

At this point, I confronted him, and he confessed. I know how to draw answers out of my ex-husband, and I did. He informed me of his feelings for his co-worker, his ongoing relations with her, and that he was going to this woman's house, and was going to have dinner with her and her partner.

This bothered me. Initially, I couldn't put my finger on exactly why, it but I knew that I didn't like it. After over a month of pondering over the matter, I have concluded that him having dinner with his new love interest and her beau was not only odd, but it was deceptive, sneaky, callous, and inconsiderate. This sort of encapsulated my own experience with him during our relationship and marriage. And for me, it was enough for me to see that it was time to cut ties and truly, completely move on.

So, I blocked him from all social media, said what I needed to say to move on, and then blocked his phone number.

Unfortunately, this whole situation caused me to evaluate my own motivations and personal integrity. I wasn't necessarily happy to face the fact that I was doing something very similar in communicating with a married man, with full knowledge of the fact that, if I was truly honest with myself, I wanted more than just friendship with him. I always have. So, I think it was mutually understood that I needed to pull away for a while. Not to say I would never check in with him again, but I needed to draw back and focus on myself.

That left a bit of a void. But I was determined to move on, and move forward. So, I ended up flirting with a young man that I had seen around, but didn't really know. Smart, fluent in French, attractive. But I'll be honest, I was looking for a shiny object--a diversion from my uncomfortably. As he is in recovery as well, he quickly saw through me and called me out. He did it in a very arrogant, presumptuous way as well, so I did not take too kindly to his observations. My knee jerk reaction was to tell him exactly how self-righteous he came across to me, and that it was inappropriate for him to be advising me on my recovery and personal life when I barely knew the man. Of course, there was truth to what he said, and I knew he was right at the time he said it, but he wasn't entirely correct and I was determined to move forward come hell or high water. And that I did...

Remember FC from my posts more than a year ago? Well, I texted him and suggested that we meet to catch up. Long story short--one thing quickly led to another and we hooked up. It was actually pretty great! I really care about FC and have a deep respect and affection for him, and I believe that I made the right choice. The feeling seemed mutual, and we made plans to reconnect when I got back to Orlando a month in the future--I was traveling to Denmark, Sweden, Ireland, Massachusetts and New Jersey over the holidays, and I expected to be very busy and distracted--and I was.

In any case, my Divorceymoon started out on a very positive and hopeful note--I felt good about where we left things, and I felt very satisfied with my decision, BUT....

To be continued..

Stop Being Weird, Liz/Be Productive, Liz

Stop Being Weird, Liz (i.e. Stop Googling the History of Ron Howard's Family)

This morning it dawned on me that I've been a little weird the last couple of days. The decent into weirdness was quite gradual, and I only hit my rock bottom when I woke up and started googling stupid shit again--and by stupid shit, I mean stupid, random nonsense that no one really needs to know about.

I feel like this started last Wednesday before I went to mediation for my divorce. I got dropped off at the courthouse three and a half hours before the meeting. This was unfortunate because I had a little too much time on my hands to think about what was actually happening. Free time and thinking are generally not the best for my psycho-social stability. First, I sat down at a diner and tried to do step work for my recovery. However, that quickly got way too deep and a little too boring for the morning of the mediation for my divorce. Then, I started texting everyone I knew saying whatever random nonsense was crossing my mind at that moment. That kept me occupied for about an hour. Finally, I bought and consumed an energy drink, and quickly devolved into repeatedly asking online tarot cards and computer oracles what was going to happen at mediation (Yes, I actually did that).

By the time my lawyer finally arrived, I was crashing off of my energy drink and more or less had deteriorated into Gollum from Lord of the Rings. But rather than "precious" being a powerful ring that held mysterious and magical powers, "precious" became any and every free online fortune telling device on my iPhone. Which, in my opinion, made me way creepier and weirder than Gollum ever was about that ring. I had a seriously crazed look about me as well. Not one of my finest moments.

Soon after, we went into mediation and it seemed like everything was going to be easy breezy. I actually wondered why I had got myself so worked up over it all! Within the first five minutes, my husband's lawyer "accidentally" got my DUI confused with a domestic violence charge. Yeah, because those two offences are so much a like--easy mistake. I'm a buck 10 soaking wet, domestic violence? How did she even come up with that? And how is that in any way comparable to DUI? I immediately burst into tears, and we had to be separated into different rooms. Next, my husband tried to say that there was no equity in the house and that neither of us had any assets. Mediation ended right after that. We spent a grand total of 20 minutes in mediation, and decided it wasn't working out. So, I waited three and a half hours for a 20 minute meeting and spent an hour and a half (or more) asking online fortune telling devices what would be happening during those 20 minutes. None of them predicted that debacle. What a surprise.

I was later informed that it could take up to a year to go to court for the divorce, so I would remain married for the foreseeable future. This was disappointing because I was hoping to take a post-divorce vacation to Ireland this fall in an attempt to meet a hot Irish guy to ease my pain. Damn it.

I had to work long hours four out of the five days after mediation, so I didn't get much of a chance to process it. On my one day off, I let my roommate, Jake, convince me to send a "suggestive" picture to the Italian guy I've been ogling for the last two months. Good life choice, Liz. Please, continue to seek relationship advice from a 25-year old single dude that has gone on more dates this week than you have this entire decade. I'm sure that guy knows EXACTLY how to reel them in. I mean, I've only dated two guys in the last ten years...what do I know? It turns out that I know A LOT. I know a fucking lot! And, in the future, I am going to trust experience won by my AGE and LIFE EXPERIENCE rather than listen to a millennial. It was, however, fun to "live on the edge" for a minute--I'll give it that.

So, acting like a 25 year old millennial towards a grown man with several children didn't work out according to plan. I wonder why. Luckily, I had to work the next day, so I didn't initially overthink it.

Weirdo in the middle

That being said, Tuesday came along and I found myself with three days off in a row. Thus, I was surrounded by my two worst enemies: FREE TIME and THINKING.

On day first day, I read as much of Florida divorce law and case law as possible. When I came to the conclusion that what I read was basically what my lawyer told me (and therefore he knew how to do his job), I became disinterested and decided to focus on the other blunder of that week: the text to the Italian.

I had not received much of a response from him, so I immediately considered every horrible possibility that might have happened. Eventually, I came to the conclusion that he was probably dead and started crying. I mean, that is the next logical conclusion, right? He hasn't texted me in 48 hours, so clearly he's dead. Children at home? Business to run? Break-up to deal with? Those seem a little too plausible if you know what I mean--and let's face it: none of those reasons have anything to do with me, so it doesn't even make sense.

Eventually Jake convinced me that I was being irrational, and he probably got back together with his ex or simply didn't like me. That made me cry even more. When I got back home, I finally decided enough is enough: my face is puffy and my nose is red! I'll just gracefully exit this situation without making any more of a scene than I already have, and refocus my energies on my dog, the potential hot Irish guy that I would eventually meet when I got divorced and took a trip to Ireland, and accept that I would probably be an old spinster-- the dog version of a cat lady. I also decided to write to my friend in England to confirm a backup plan to my backup plan.

Well, now that that was all taken care of, I should be fine, right? Nope. Of course not. In lieu of obsessing about my divorce or humiliating debacle with the Italian guy, I decided to watch every movie I could find on nuclear war. Then I googled all sorts of facts related to nuclear war. Then I wondered if I just got myself put on a watch list because of the content of what I was googling. Then I decided I was already on some sort of watch list because I had googled the same nonsense many times before. My ex actually made me a nuclear weapons blast calculator for my birthday one year. It was one of the most thoughtful, memorable gifts I've ever received. I still have it in case I have to calculate the size of a bomb against my distance from it. Always good to have, just in case.

Soviet weapons Whiz Wheel and nuclear blast calculator!

After I decided my nuclear war obsession was a bit morose, I decided to watch the last season of Arrested Development to cheer myself up. While this initially did the trick, it eventually deteriorated into reading the entire history of Ron Howard's extended family in order to see whether or not it matched up with the plot line of Arrested Development. Very informative, but I remain unsure about the application of such information in my future en devours.

After seeing the total and utter psychological deterioration and demoralization I had suffered as the result of my days off (including the day that I sent the text under Jake's advisement), I decided to call my sponsor, go to a meeting, tell on myself, and do something remotely productive before I went to work today. And this is what I did!!! Ta DAAAAAA!!!! Thank God new episodes of BoJack horseman just came out!

What Is My Issue with Italian Men? Plus, Some Other Stuff...

**Disclaimer: lamenting about my honeymoon has taken a real back burner to a much more pressing question this week: What is my issue with Italian men? This is a very serious question that needs to be probed with the utmost urgency--the struggle is real!

Regular guy to Italian guy conversion chart

Now that I'm no longer drinking, my mind has been freed up to obsess about other things that have historically interested me. I have come up with a short list of some of the other things in an effort to provide some clarity into my latest debacle. It also gives some insight into some of my more "simple minded" priorities.

Most Basic Obsessions with No Alcohol in my System:

1. My Dog
2. Ernest Hemingway
3. Dogs in General
4. Italy
5. Italian MEN!!! (Realistically, this should be listed much higher on the list, but I'm trying very hard to give the impression that I'm a more reasonable person than I actually am).
6. Sour Patch Kids
7. Candy in General
8. Numbered Lists
9. Having Children
10. Halloween
11. Ghosts and Haunted Houses

For those readers who are not already well aware, I feel like it is important to disclose the fact that I have struggled with an irrational attraction to Italian men for all of my adult life. And by irrational, what I actually mean is senseless, irresponsible and actually quite deranged. This statement is best evidenced by the fact that I met an Italian man on an Art History trip to Italy when I was in college and decided to peruse and intense and fantastical relationship with said Italian man. And to clarify, I should probably mention that I "fell in love at first sight" with an architecture student who worked at the local Irish pub in Venice.

This is where the story gets ridiculous...

I stole a phone book out of the hotel in Mestre the night before I was supposed to leave Venice. I called EVERY Irish Pub in the Veneto trying to reach this man whose name I could not even manage to properly pronounce. Finally, I reached him, and he said he would try to make it to Mestre that night to see me before I left. He did not get off of work in time, and we did not meet. The next day in Assisi, I told my sister that I had to see him again--that it was "fate" or something ridiculous like that.
My sister replied by nearly shouting at the top of her lungs, "Liz! Life is NOT a Jane Austin novel, grow the f**k up!"

Not liking the advice my sister had given me, I went and asked the Italian tour guide what I should do. The lady told me to "follow my heart...it is Italy." And thus, being entirely deranged from watching Only You one too many times as a teenager, I left with about 70 Euro, hitch-hiked down to the train in Assisi, took the train all of the way to Venice, and tracked down the guy at the Irish pub. In the meantime, my sister was distraught and flew back to the US alone before the trip was over. The state and national police were also called. Soon after, I dropped out of school moved in with him in his tiny efficiency in Venice.

Therefore, reader, I have had a quite lengthy history of irrational attractions to Italian men. I wish I could say that that was the only time I did something that stupid because of an Italian man, but it isn't. I also wish there was some deep psychoanalytical explanation, but I don't think there is.

In an effort to uncover the root cause of such irrational thinking and behavior, I have come up with a list of possible explanations from my formative years.

Possible explanations for irrational attraction to Italian men:

1. One of my Grandmothers very much admired the celebrity, "Fabio." This may be significant because she died 24 years ago, and I very clearly remember the fact that she loved "Fabio"(an Italian) and "Rambo" (a fictional character of Italian-American/Navajo descent).


2. My other Grandmother had several novels with "Fabio" on the cover. I remember going upstairs in her house to the room where she stored her books and pointing out to my sister, "That's Fabio. Fabio is handsome." My seven year old mind probably had no idea what handsome even meant, but I knew enough about Fabio to make a point of educating my sister on the importance of Fabio.


3. Vivid memories of Fabio on TV commercials, particularly in regard to romance

4. Teenage obsession with the romantic comedy, Only You, that takes place in Italy and stars Marissa Tomei and Robert Downy Jr.

5. Looney Tunes episode where "Pepe LePew" chases the cat with the white paint down its back in Venice...and the cat, "Penelope," almost submits to his advances

6. Robert DeNero in the Godfather trilogy (enough said).

7. Panettone?

8. Pasta?

9. Pizza?

Italian-American Crush

I realized this week that I have a crush on an Italian guy. Well, Italian-American, but that can be equally devastating to my logical reasoning. While I noticed him and found him attractive before this week, things escalated to a level of urgency this week with one too many conversations about him being Italian, his Italian family, a few cute expressions in Italian, and the fact that he offered me all of his green skittles and told me that he would "have to remember" that Sour Patch Kids were the key to my heart--and various other small conversations about candy and Italian things. This crush has reached the point of distracting. For the sake of this poor man's privacy, I'm going to call him, Fabio with Candy, or FC for short.

Reason for current inner struggle

Reasons why I like FC:
1. He is Italian (Grandmother right off the boat)
2. He also appears to have a fondness of candy
3. He said that he would "have to remember" that Sour Patch kids are the way to my heart
4. He gave me all of his green skittles on Thursday
5. He has a great smile
6. He has a great laugh
7. He has a great sense of humor
8. He smiled at me

Ladies, if this is not good cause for a totally irrational infatuation, I don't know what is! The real question here is: what happens if he actually gives me Sour Patch Kids? As I have never actually been presented with this scenario, it is difficult to say how I would react. But I'm thinking it would be something like this:

What happens if....

There is a good chance that I'm going to see FC either tonight or tomorrow night. Definitely on Monday. And what I want to say to him is this:

"Are you serious, buddy? Just because you have mastered the delicate and complicated art of 'Liz seduction' in less than a week, it does not mean that I'm going to fall for your sophisticated charm and endearing smile...I'm working on me!!!!"...I think...




The Poem from Only You: