sueeeus

The winds of change are always blowing
And every time I try to stay
The winds of change continue blowing
And they just carry me away

As I was driving home this evening, the thoughts milling about my mind converged upon an association, and the sound of Julio Iglesias and Willie Nelson singing “To All The Girls I’ve Loved Before” surfaced.

I consider myself “serially monogamous”. I don’t really know how to date, and I’ve written quite a bit about my frustrations with the singles and dating scene this year. In retrospect, as the year comes to a close, I can say that I gave it a valiant effort!

I’ve met someone who gets me. We fit. So I’m settling in to this state of togetherness.  Separate togetherness.  There are logistics to be addressed, after all.  Single mom raising two young boys.  Single dad raising one young girl. Different towns, different schools, different daycares, different schedules.  Similarly uncooperative exes…    It’s glorious, though, this being understood bit.  It’s a connection in which it feels as though we’ve known each other all along, so the actual physical introduction is anticlimactic.  Hello there.  Oh, there you are! It’s beautiful, really.

So, with all this new found peace on the love front, there is the jumble of this year’s escapades still milling about my mind a little, and I’d like for it to all sort and settle.  Hence, the emergence of Julio and Willie.

I never really dated, in life.  I just went from long term relationship to long term relationship.  My bad.  Even so, having spent the better part of a year dating, it’s a major culture shock for me, and it’s hard to sort it all out.  I never really knew how to be ‘casual’ with people.  It’s contrary to my nature.

I’ve started a mental recap, with the help of Julio.  My poor brain is jumbled and confused.  I have a fantastic love to focus on, but I have these threads that need to be put kindly away in their respective resting places.  How do I sort them out?  I don’t want them emerging to distract or confuse me.  And they don’t distract or confuse me in the sense that there is any interference with the relationship I’m nurturing, but in the sense that phasing from one person to another is something that has been done over the span of years in times past, but in days or weeks or months this year.  It’s a lot to process.

Like Salieri said, too many notes!  My poor brain.

~*~*~*~

the fish, the frogs, the toads, and the prince

In the course of 11 months, I’ve met a dozen men, and kissed most of them (all but two).  Shhh, there were even a couple of one night stands in the mix.  Not my thing, not my intention, but it is what it is, or, more accurately, it was what it was.  Not a whole helluva lot.  Ho hum.  Live and learn. And for all the men I’ve met, there were dozens more that I didn’t meet.

It’s not that they are fish, frogs, or toads, really.  Most of them are genuinely great guys, and it’s heartening to know that there are so many truly nice men out there.  We just don’t fit.  Misfits.  Except the prince, that is.  We fit.

• the gangster trucker (fun, controlling, alpha male, but still friends, after all)
• the electrician boat enthusiast (a sweet man, truly, but scattered; it seemed like we connected, but didn’t, if that makes any sense)
• the industrial maintenance guy with the permanently attached bluetooth headset (moody, controlling, and WTH is up with the headset?)
• the Irish road crew guy (such a funny and sweet man)
• the executive fish monger (more show than go, a disappointment, all told)
• the geek sailor (an inexplicable friend)
• the metrosexual designer (sweet, funny, kind)
• the geek viking body builder (fun, nice, thoughtful, kind)
• the musician (sweet, caring, good)
• the taco restaurateur (nice, sweet, fun, good)
• the resonant nerd.  MY resonant nerd.  He would be the prince of the lot.

I’ve kissed as many men in one year as I have in my whole life combined.  It kind of messes with my head a bit.  I think time will take care of the sorting, and I am so relieved I have one, just one, to focus on completely.

losing it

~*~*~*~

Actually, the day started out well.  I felt rested.  I’m beginning to sleep better, not waking at 4:09 a.m. each and every morning.  It’s very healing, to be able to sleep.  I think my whole self can barely take any more of the loads I’ve been subjecting her to for the past who knows how many years.  It’s been compounding this year, understandably.

I try fruitlessly to coordinate with the kids’ dad, and get little to no cooperation.  Things turn into bicker fests, and that’s the last thing I want.  I’m seldom fast enough on my feet (figuratively) to be ready for things said, so I seem to play into the games, each and every time.  It’s so wearying.  And ridiculous.  It’s been over a year since we parted ways, and nearly a year since we’ve been divorced.  There’s no need to continue bickering like immature hot headed teenagers.  I don’t want it.  All I want is a routine, simple and clearly defined.  He does his part, I do mine.

I can’t enforce anything.  I can’t make him do his part.

I feel like I’m under attack, and there’s nothing I can do about it, apart from roll over and let him kick me around some more, i.e., give him all he wants and submit to his stupid manipulative passive aggressive tactics.

And here I am, wasting my blog energy spewing this stuff out.  But it helps me to air it.  Otherwise, my composure is held together by the finest of threads, stretched to its near limit, on the verge of snapping.

I’m too close in.  Take it to the 30,000 ft level, and what do I see?

Bottom line – he doesn’t want to pay child support.  It’s as simple as that.  I don’t have to get sucked into his threats and shenanigans that revolve around this subject.  They all do.  What can I do about this?  Nothing.  (Well, I could cancel the child support order, which is what he wants.)  When my five year old goes on a whining bender, what can I do but ignore him?  If I acknowledge him, it provides attention, which is what he seeks.  Perhaps the best thing to do here, therefore, is to ignore as well.  If he tries to take me to court, I can get a lawyer to deal with him.

Another bottom line – he is scorned.  Why else would he accuse me of having boy toys and flavor of the month men?  He doesn’t get to live happily ever after with me, so he must attack any attempts I make toward the pursuit of a happily ever after for myself.  And what can I do about this? Again, nothing.  It’s an attack, but there’s no reason for me to acknowledge it or allow it to hurt me.

That’s that, then.

Belief is vapor.

Understanding.  Is that more true?

What is truth?