It’s mating season. Like a bear coming out of hibernation, people are shedding their winter coats here in Boston and starting to strut their goods on Newbury St. Nothing is more appealing to me on a warm evening than grabbing a table outside at Stephanie’s and watching people walk by. I love the fashion. Or the lack of it. I love the young international kids driving by in their Maseratis who have no clue how their parents acquired their wealth to buy them those cars. I love homeless people who have a little more swagger than the ones who hang out in less affluent areas - they know they have to be more creative to ask for a buck. They earn it. But mostly, I love the people who are working their groove.
Getting divorced after a long marriage leaves even the most confident of us with some feelings of insecurity I would imagine. After being with someone for so long, who loves you for you, all of a sudden you are faced with the reality of needing to get back out there. And while I’d like to think I haven’t let myself go over the years, I am clearly not the 27 year girl I was when I came off the market. I have wrinkles. I’ve got c-section scars. Some parts have moved around. I know there’s good stuff too, but I’m not focused on that for this piece.
When I started this “experiment” a few days ago, I was amazed by the number of people who messaged me offline telling me similar stories of their breakups, and how they managed to move on. Some are dating. Some are not. Some have their groove back. Some haven’t navigated those waters and are scared to death to. Here’s how I decided to approach. I’ll give you the PG-13 version.
I went back to high school. I connected with the guy I had a crush on forever, who was inappropriately aged for me when I was 12. And by the time I was 22 and out of college and we did hang out, we were still good friends but just in the “good time” category. Zoom ahead 20+ years - we’re still friends. We have history. We still have chemistry. We have, as he calls it, “a smile”. We also have distance.
He doesn’t live here, and our lives could not be more different. But he’s gorgeous and kind and funny as hell. And without being totally crass, I’ll suggest we are both a hell of lot better as “adults” than we were as 20 year olds. With age, some things really do improve.
I am 45 years old. I have zero desire to get married again right now. I am forever grateful that I have a “road buddy” who helped me transition from married life to the single life. I have no idea what is in store for me in the dating scene, but I am confident I’m equipped to deal with all that’s coming to me in the future.
Stella’s Got Her Groove Back. Look Out.
No comments:
Post a Comment