Kat is a Homeowner!

Ahhhh, love my view!

Just 11 months ago, I sold the condo I lived in with my ex-husband, divided our belongings, hired two different moving trucks going in two different directions, and then moved into almost 900 square feet of unapologetically unshared living space.

Since then, I’ve worked to recalibrate my financial priorities and goals. We all have that magic number that we like seeing as the balance in our checking accounts; now I was one person with one income paying rent that was a little more than half of what I’d previously paid for my mortgage.

Articles about stuff divorced people need to think about all pointed in the same direction: do whatever necessary to be financially stable. Reevaluate my goals and dreams.

Goals? Dreams? Umm, what? 

Time for more post-divorce decisions?!

When I was married, I assumed we’d eventually want a house because married people want houses and do yardwork and other boring crap like that. I assumed we’d want some babies to go in our fictional house, and babies need karate lessons and summer camp and college savings accounts. I assumed we’d eventually want some big ass car to tote around our fictional son and daughter. Lots of stuff to save for when you’re married and going to do married people crap!

But, now I was single. I had absolutely no clue what a 33-year-old single woman should be saving for. I am a pretty risk-averse person, so I knew that actively growing savings accounts would bring me much peace and confidence.

I needed some goals and dreams that would be completely mine. 

What did I really want?

I really tried to think about what I wanted.
A hot car? Not even remotely interested.
A trip to Fiji? Eh, sounds really far.
Some designer shoes and handbags? I’m way too practical.
A condo to call my own? After my moderately traumatizing experience of trying for months to sell my condo with Max, that sounded awful, but probably the most realistic.

I actively continued my “Downpayment” savings account (as well as other conspicuously named accounts). Half of the money from selling my engagement ring went straight into this account. Every week, a set amount of cash went directly into that account every week for “someday.”

Well, my friends, “someday” came sooner than I had wanted or expected. The opportunity presented itself to buy my beloved apartment, quite possibly my favorite place I’ve lived since leaving the bubble also known as college. I love my town, I love my many friends in my neighborhood as well as the proximity to my family, I love my in-unit washer and dryer, I love my garage. Did I mention I have a walk-in closet? Yeah, this is the place to shell out disgusting amounts of money. This is the place to throw down my roots and embrace my new life.

As of July 25, 2014, less than a year after I sold my condo with my ex-husband, I signed my (maiden) name a million times. I agreed to pay the bank hundreds of thousands of dollars by 2044. 

This divorced woman bought a home. On. Her. Own. Rock on!

What was a huge post-divorce accomplishment for you?

"Lay With Me So It Doesn't Hurt"

Since the first time I heard the heartbreaking yet sexy Sam Smith song, Stay With Me, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. I get that song, you know? I really get it.

Sex with Someone I Loved

I haven’t had sex with love, actual love, in years. It’s a distant memory, but I can still remember the richness, the beauty, the sensuality, of being physically intimate with someone I love. Sex can be painful, ugly, funny, and mindblowing, sometimes all at once. But when you’re having sex with someone you love, it’s all OK because you’re lost in the flood of touch, smell, taste, and emotion.

Years ago, I remember lying in Max’s arms in my fullsize bed. We were sweating on my hand-me-down sheets and the room smelled like sex (in a good way). My head fit into that spot between his shoulder and chin. I kissed his pale Irish skin and whispered into his shoulder, “Bursting.”

“Hmm?” Max mumbled sleepily.

“I’m so happy, I feel so good. I just didn’t know…” I said quietly, as I fumbled for the right words. “It feels like... like I’m bursting.”

He pulled me closer and kissed the top of my head.

“I know,” Max said. “I’m happy too. Love you, Bear.”

God, I miss those days so much that my chest aches and my eyes tear as I write this. I miss that kind of sex. What is more thrilling than the vulnerability of sex with someone you truly care for?

Sex with Someone I Kind Of Like But Not That Much

Since Max, I’ve had three sexual partners as well as a smattering of “special friends.” (By the way, somehow I still haven't had sex with Steve, but oh how the temptation lingers.) I think about Jason and the Incredible Sex in particular when I hear Stay With Me.

I like that I’m in such control of my sex/almost sex life again. I haven’t been really without an option for a hookup since I filed for divorce, which is pretty awesome. I love the honesty of just hooking up with someone and we both know it.

After having my orgasm, part of me wants the guy to disappear. It was just physical; I’ve had my fun, so get out and I’ll go back to my empowered single woman life. I'll beckon when I want more.

But there’s that small part of me that yearns for him to stay, even when I don’t particularly like the guy. This is not the guy for me (JASON) nor will he ever be, but he’s here now and in a moment... I’ll be alone.

"Oh, won't you stay with me?

'Cause you're all I need

This ain't love it's clear to see

But darling, stay with me"

…but I’d never, ever say this to the "special friend."

When I’m alone again, I coolly go back to watching Beverly Hills 90210 or doing laundry or I just fall asleep. Usually, I feel perfectly fine with my choice.

But once in a while, I question my actions.

Why the one night stand? What does it accomplish? What void does it fill that I can’t take care of on my own?

Once in a while, I don’t just want to take my orgasm and run. I want someone to hold me like Max did.

“Lay with me so it doesn’t hurt.”

Do your sexual encounters usually come with emotion? Can you separate emotion from being sexual?

My Great Debate: Should I Have Casual Sex?

This face will totally help me get laid.

Wow, for the first time, since I started my blog, I didn’t write last week. I was too weirded out by the possibility of Carl or his informants reading it.

The bad news is that Carl proved himself to be no different from any of the other 27-year-olds I’ve gone out with. The good news is I can go back to writing whatever I want!

And this time I mean it for really real: 

NO MORE GOING OUT WITH 27-YEAR-OLDS.

I want to tell you all about my time with Carl and the extremely abrupt ending, but I promised him I wouldn’t write about him. Unfortunately for you, dear reader, I keep my promises.

Instead, I’ll tell you about Steve, the 44-year-old in my building. (I was going to put him in the Friend Zone this weekend if things progressed with Carl. Good thing I didn’t do that yet! Single girls need options.)

To Screw or Not Screw, That Is The Question

So, while Carl and I were talking/dating/whatever you call it, I was still talking to Steve. In fact, over July 4th holiday weekend, I spent a lot of time with him… including sleeping at his place and him cooking me breakfast. (My FAVORITE meal! And no one cooks me breakfast!) 

Our very open rapport continued, included me telling him that Jason, the Incredible Sex, sent me a shirtless selfie at 10 a.m. while I was lying in Steve’s bed. Ummm, isn’t that the kind of thing you shouldn’t be telling a guy whose bed you're lying in? Anyway, given the openness, it didn't take long for the conversation to turn to sex. 

Not surprisingly, Steve wanted to have sex with me. (Well, actually, I do still find it a little surprising when men want to have sex, and more specifically, with me. We can thank my ex-husband for that baggage.) You guys, I really, really, REALLY wanted to have sex with him. But dammit I'd told myself not to! 

Enter the Angel / Devil on each shoulder,
each shouting very convincing points in my ears:

Screw: Hells yeah. Ride him.
He’s cute and he’s already skilled at other things in the sack.

Don't Screw: Carl has been texting while I’m with Steve. I like Carl too. I’m being shady.

Screw: Carl and I are in the "talking" phase. We've only kissed.
I can do whatever I want (at least for a little while longer!)

Don't Screw: I promised myself that I’d wait for a relationship to have sex.
(Why oh why did I make that dumb promise?!)
I don’t think Steve will end up being my boyfriend, so not sex-worthy.

Screw: Well, if he’s not going to be my boyfriend anyway, having too-soon-sex isn’t possible and therefore can’t wreck anything, so might as well get it while the getting is good!

Don't Screw: Crap, did I shave my legs today?

Screw: Steve and I connect on some pretty deep topics of conversation, so that makes the sex less cheap.

Don't Screw: If he’s so willing to have sex with me, does he have casual sex a lot? Does he have every STD I ever read about in
 Seventeen magazine and then Cosmo?

Screw: Who the hell am I to judge, I had some casual sex in my early 20s. I miraculously dodged the STD bullets. Maybe he’s clean!

Don't Screw: I haven’t had sex since February with Aaron. Stick to your principles!

(But… I’m lying. I guess I have to count the Incredible Sex I had with Jason in late May and early June. I know, I know, I know! I’m supposed to be staying away from him! And I hadn't had sex with him since January!
But… I don’t know, I was bored and I had no prospects when he started contacting me again. In a two-week moment of weakness I had some sex with him but then stopped.
This confession is how I’ll know which of my real-life friends read this – they are texting me right now saying, “Kat. Jason?! WTF. Cut it out!!”)

In the end, I stuck to my promise to not have sex with Steve. BORING and not that satisfying. Ugggh, I hate having principles!

When was the last time you turned down some ready and willing sex?

See also: 8 Reasons Why Divorced Sex is So Much Better Than Married Sex.

What Should A Blogger Do When Her Identity is Revealed?

Confession: My real name isn’t Divorced Kat. 

My ex-husband’s name isn’t Max. 

The town I live in is not Ford. 

And pretty much every name I’ve ever mentioned has been a false one.

When I started this blog, it was with Max’s knowledge. He didn’t like that I was going to write about something having to do with him, but he knew he couldn’t stop me. But, he made one thing very clear:

This blog must not get traced back to me.

Sure, there’s my privacy at stake, but I’m the one taking risks by writing about everything from my years of pain and rejection in my marriage to post-divorce sex and masturbation to not being a mom. I guess you could say it’s a risk I’ve been willing to take for the sake of my own healing process and moving on.

When I read entries from last year, I just can’t believe how far I have come. And when I think about how desperately lonely and scared I was two years at this time (pre-blog), when I knew my marriage's demise was inevitable, it amazes me how a broken heart can heal. This blog has been instrumental in my healing process. I’m truly proud of what I have written and the exploration I have done.

But, by default, I have put Max’s privacy at risk as well as pretty much every guy I date/kiss while drunk at a bar. And if he had sex with me, he’s SO going in the blog.

Well, recently, I was shocked to find out that people who know me in real life read this blog – people who know me, but I don’t know if I know them. And furthermore, at least one of these people knows Carl, the charming 27-year-old I wrote about last week. And… yes, Carl found out what I wrote about him.

Carl knows that's me behind
the question mark.

My blog is my sanctuary, where for more than 70 entries I have boldly shared whatever I want. I couldn’t believe my worlds had collided.

After literally stopping in my tracks and yelling, “Fuck!” when I found out about my cover being blown, I bounced between feeling totally embarrassed that Carl had read what I’d written about him, and angry and exposed that people from my real life were reading this without my OK, and then maybe a touch flattered that people who know me but aren’t my friends even give a shit to read my words.

So, out of respect for his privacy, I will not be blogging about Carl. I’m not going to lie, I’m pretty bummed about this. I would love to share the great dates we had over the weekend, but I cannot. I hope you, dear reader, can understand and forgive me for finally having a topic that I’m considering off limits for the foreseeable future.

Fellow bloggers – has your online life ever found you in real life? How did you handle it?