I've been doing a lot of thinking recently…and of course it finally hit me that I'm at my d-day anniversary. 4 years.
My ex took the kids on a fabulous vacay for Spring Break. I get to see all the photos and listen to them on FaceTime every night having a wonderful time. I miss them and I'm jealous.
No one talks about how feeling "off" after all of this is also OK. We are supposed to be healed and perfect and move on with our life. Find a relationship that makes sense again. But, at some level, isn't it OK that life changed drastically for me and I am forever changed? Some for the worse, but mostly for the best?
Where I am hurt worse is around relationships with men.
I feel like when I'm dating…I'm watching everyone else play a game and I wasn't given the rules. I watch from the sidelines wanting to play. I try to play the game, I watch everyone else to figure out the rules. I listen to different people tell me different rules and none of the rules make any sense to me. I keep fucking up from the fear of the game. Fear of failure.
"Let the guy chase you!!"
"You HAVE to flirt with them!!"
"Don't let them know you are interested!"
"Show some cleavage!"
"Don't reply for at least 4 hours!"
"Be sexy"
"Be a size 2"
"Don't have sex for at least 3 dates"
"Don't introduce them to your children"
"Just be friends"
"Make eye contact wherever you go."
"Smile at men"
"Go where the men are!"
"Be mysterious"
"Men are clueless, you have to tell them you are interested in them"
"Men only want beautiful, younger women"
"Men don't really care what you look like as long as you show up"
"You are so cute, men should be falling all over you!"
"Men only want long hair"
I literally realized yesterday that I keep trying to do what everyone is telling me to do. I keep hoping this game will make sense to me.
So, I took my dating books and I threw them in the trash. I cancelled the email advice from websites promising me the "key to understanding how to get a man."
The only thing I can do is be myself. If I fuck it up, I fuck it up.
Be. Myself.