What to do when...

What does one do when informed that your ex-husband is getting remarried?

1. Freak Out.  This is news.  Not that you didn't know he was impulsive and lonely, but dang.  You've been apart for less than a year, divorced for less than 10 months.  And he just met this chick.  you've been dating your new dude for twice as long as he's been with this woman, how is this even possible?!
2. Contemplate doing something ridiculous.  Personally, I thought about getting a tattoo, buying an international plane ticket, buying a bottle of scotch, taking out an advertisement to declare his penis size to the world, and emailing his new fiance a list of his charming faults.  It is imperative to be in a semi-professional or constrained location when this happens, so you can't do any of these things.
3. Talk yourself off the ledge.  Sometimes literally.
4. Call your BFF.  Literally, or via any of the ways we can tell each other these things.  The point is, find someone who will tell you unflinchingly that you are amazing and he is the devil.  This is essential to the healing process.
5. Write letters you won't send.  This is your opportunity to get all of the vitriol out without any of the consequences, so write a few letters or emails that you have no intention of sending, just to clear out the first round of hate, anger, shame, frustration, aggravation, surprise, and general crazy.
6. Consume.  Whatever makes you feel better, now is the time to put some of it in front of you.  Cookie dough?  Wine? Ham?  A large supreme pizza and a side of bread sticks?  Maybe you just want to go
   
   nuts on pretzels and peligrino, or maybe you want to drink a bottle of gin and a box of thin mints.  Now is the time.
   Drinks with girl friends, popcorn on the phone with your old roommate, wings with the person who's seen you through it since the beginning, or a fro yo date with someone who has no idea what's going on, so you won't have to talk about it.  Put something in your mouth to cover up those feelings for a little bit.  Laughter is not the best medicine, hiding your pain under a meatball sub is.
7. Laugh.  Funny movie?  Reruns of your favorite sitcom?  Something that is guarenteed to make you laugh and forget, for a moment, what is happening.
8. Cry.  It's going to happen eventually; even though the guy is essentially toxic waste in designer jeans, you will eventually have to let some emotions out of your eyes about him putting a sparkly ring on someone else's finger and promising to love them forever, the same way he did to you.  Cry it the fuck out.
9. Be rational.  Now that you've freaked out, remind yourself why you aren't with that person anymore.  There were good, solid reasons why you left him, there was real pain, and you decided you'd rather be alone than be a part of that shit show.  Stand by that decision, and hold fast to your sanity.
10. DO NOT CONTACT ANY CURRENT OR PAST LOVE INTERESTS.  Proposing to your current b.f. is not a way to hold fast to your sanity, nor is looking up old exs and asking them if you were easy to get over, or if they still love you, or anything of that sort.  The desire to do anything of the sort means you are back at step 2, contemplating something crazy, and need to go through step steps again.

Repeat as needed.

Grabing vs. Holding

There is a great picture of me and my main dude rolling around, and I love it.  we're all sunshine and smiles, and we look like us.  Attractive, happy versions of us.  It is the ideal picture, and we look like our ideal, happy selves.  We look in love.

He even has his arm around me.  It is not resting there flacid, nor is it gripping me, it is just holding me, firm yet gentle.  I keep looking at the image of that strong hand holding my arm, and it occurs to me.

My last dude gripped my arm like the last damn life line in every old picture of us.

Seriously.

Squeezing my arm fat into a second arm sometimes, it often photographed like a painful grab, like I should be left with claw marks on my arm.  It always bothered aesthetically, but I never though much about the subtle, meta-implications until now.  There was need, hunger, and desperation in that arm grab.  Love, sure, but a crazy, wild love that could be driven to madness...

Which, in the autopsy of the relationship, proved to be accurate.  The ex wanted to possess and control, it was the kind of love that made me crazy slowly and completely.

Now, I look at this happy restful embrace and I see the contrast between it and the desperate grip of a person who needed control.  It is a lesson, and a metaphor.  Love it not meant to be gripping, grabbing, hungry or aggressive.  It is supportive, it is warm, it holds with out crushing or distending.

Read Rilke, ladies and gents, and then come talk to me.

Table for One

Sometimes you wake up and find you've been missing an integral part of yourself for a while, and hadn't even noticed.
I, just today, realized I've lost my sovereignty.  No one took it, but I got caught up in my relationships and work and life and the thousand usual things that occupy our time, and I left it somewhere.  Like, on a street corner or something dumb like that.  Which is ridiculous, when you think about it, to leave something as vital as one's sense of agency and independence out in the cold without a second glance or thought.  Luckily it is easily regained.  I fought for it hard the first time, but now I know where it goes, how to get it.  I can build a new sense of sovereignty easily enough with a little time and effort.
Tonight, my darling imaginary readers who do not exist except in my own vanity, I'll be taking myself out to dinner.  I deserve a nice date night out, and feeling pretty and dressed up in the style of my liking, eating the food of my choice.  So I'm getting that, all of that, all by myself.  And sitting alone at the table by myself, I am confident that my sovereignty will mosey over and join me, and we can chat and catch up and leave together in the best of spirits.

Easy as one.