When Your Ex-Husband Tells You His Girlfriend is Pregnant

My ex-husband, Max, has brown eyes and long, black eyelashes. (I always said those eyelashes were wasted on a man.) Through our eight years together, I saw his eyes light up with joy. I saw them darken with secrecy. I saw them dull with shock and denial.

This time, I was seeing something I had not seen before. Could it be fear?

Max stood in front of me, shifting his weight, fidgeting his hands. He stood seven inches taller than me, but felt smaller. What was going on? We have been divorced for two years. What on earth was there for him to say to me that could reduce him to this?

“Kat,” his voice quivering ever so slightly, “I have to tell you something.”

“OK…” I replied. “Go ahead. You can tell me anything.”

“Well, we are engaged…”

Engaged?! I didn’t even know he was dating someone. In fact, I had assumed he hadn’t even kissed anyone since me. We got divorced because of his lack of desire for sex, so it didn’t occur to me that he would even want to date. He was so resistant to working on himself when we were in therapy. But I guessed this was good, right? Maybe this means he was coping with his problems and moving on? I can be brave and make myself happy for my ex-husband.

But there was more.

“…because she’s pregnant.”

Oh god. No. No. No!

Everything started flashing. I couldn’t breathe. My stomach filled with ice.

We were supposed to have children together. We were going to be amazing parents. When he took away sex, he took away our shared vision of parenthood. How the fuck could he already be in a romantic relationship complete with physical intimacy? Seven out of our eight years together I was desperate for intimacy. Five out of our eight years together we were in therapy. I wanted him to want me, and for seven years, he rejected me. 

Now I’m 35, single, and unsure if motherhood is something that even makes sense for me anymore. All because my husband would not (could not?) make love to his wife.

And now some other woman is pregnant with the child that was supposed to be mine?! It was more than I could bear. Like a pipe filling with ice, I was on the verge of bursting, a flood of fury and sadness and longing and jealousy.

I dropped my head in my hands as vertigo set in. 

“This isn’t real. This isn’t real. This isn’t real!” I shrieked.
I couldn’t tell if the words were firing in my brain or if they were escaping my mouth.

Then, I woke up.

My heart was pounding and tears hovered in my tear ducts. I was all alone in my bed. 

I was right. It wasn't real.

How do you feel about your ex moving on? Are you happy for him or her?

Dating, Getting Dumped, and Having Incredible Sex: My Top 10 Posts of 2014

On this last day of 2014, I thank you for hanging out with me for another year of my life post-divorce, including reliving old pain with my ex, my happy times with friends and family, and my search for hot sex and love, preferably from the same person.

In the grand tradition of all kinds of media at year-end, here's my very own list of my 10 most read posts of 2014.

10. My Return to Online Dating -- Too Dull, Too Exciting, and Just Right

In January, I went full force into the wild world of online dating.

9.  One Year Later: Why I Love My Divorce

I counted my blessings on the first anniversary of my divorce.

8.  Incredible Sex is Turning Me Into an Asshole

I was intoxicated from Incredible Sex with a guy who was wrong, wrong, and more wrong for me. But DAMN the sex was hot...

7.  Keeping Facebook Photos of Your Ex -- Just Documenting the Past or Harming Your Future?

Is it so bad to keep Facebook pics of you and your ex?

6.  What Should A Blogger Do When Her Identity is Revealed?

The guy I was seeing found out about my blog. Shit.

5.  I Want My Ex-Husband When I'm Not Fully Conscious

Ever woken up in the middle of the night and wished your bed weren't empty?

4.  Why Silence Makes Me Scream

Want to break my heart and make me lose my mind? Then, please, don't say a word.

3.  I Got Optimistic About A Guy. Now I Feel Stupid.

Two fantastic dates and then... he disappeared.

2.  7 Steps to Getting Dumped While Still Looking Like a Grownup

If you're going to date, you're going to get dumped sometimes, so here's how I save face.

1.  How to Dump Someone You Aren’t Really Dating

I learned how to nicely dump people after my non-dates because even morons and bad kissers have feelings.


Thank you again for reading, commenting, and sharing your perspectives! A very happy 2015 to you!

7 Reasons Why I'm Grateful for My Broken Kneecap

It’s been 43 days since I broke my kneecap.

My knee is bigger than my quad!
Waaahhhhh!

43 days since I have shaved or properly bathed my left leg.

43 days since I slept on my side or stomach.

43 days since I wore a skirt or dress or high heels or pants with a zipper.

43 days since I drove a car or carried a bag of groceries or climbed on my kitchen counter to reach a mixing bowl.

Going from being a single and very independent woman to needing help with everything – in the beginning, my mom had to dress me – has been hard on my pride and my self image. I have watched my strong legs turn pale and soft. I miss exercise so much that I have literally dreamed about it and started crying just talking about running with my physical therapist.

But, as I do start to see progress, thanks to time and physical therapy, I have started to gain some clarity.

Not unlike with my divorce, going through something challenging and shitty reminds me of just how many blessings I have.

My broken kneecap has made me pause and be grateful because:

1. I am close with my parents, both emotionally and geographically. I would have been absolutely lost without my parents. I stayed with them for 24 days when I needed help with, well, EVERYTHING. Thankfully we have a good relationship, my parents are in good health, and they only live an hour away from me.
2. I have built up a wonderful group of friends where I live. After almost 12 years in the Ford area, I have the kinds of friends who cart me to physical therapy and book club and the local bar; help me change my bed sheets; bring me apple cider and Fireball; take out my recycling; make me dinner; and stop at the grocery store to buy me Silk Light Soymilk.
   Love, love, love my friends!
3. I have great coworkers. My team made me feel missed and important through my weeks of working from home. They even sent me a thoughtful gift basket with wine (because, duh, I’m me); fruit (because they knew I would want to be super careful about my eating); and a little chocolate (because I freaking deserved it).
4. I have extended relationships from friendly acquaintance to actual friendship. When I returned to Ford, I found myself with more free time that I expected. Without going to the gym, my evenings are open, giving me time to reach out to several women who were just friendly acquaintances, but I’d always wanted to get to know them more. Those evenings out with them were awesome!
5. I have excellent health insurance. One trip to the ER, two visits to the orthopedist, three physical therapy appointments, and some prescriptions for painkillers and I’m not up to my ears in bills.
6. I have not been able to pursue some fun booty calls. OK, this sucked in the moment, but it’s for probably the best. So weird, but several 20-somethings from my past suddenly had me on the brain – including Jason, the Incredible Sex.
   All I had to do was send a picture of my leg brace and away they went. Just as well, I think.
7. I have a sweet ex mother-in-law. It’s been two years since I told my in-laws that I was divorcing their son. No matter. Since I fell, she has sent me two get well cards, called once, and emails to check in.
   As she wrote to me in an email, “Thank God for parents and friends. Even ex in-laws will help if needed. Don’t ever forget that.”

The Terminator brace.

(And, I can’t put this on the Why I’m Grateful list, but interestingly, since I have been on crutches I have met two cool guys in real life. I think seeing a woman on crutches brings out a man’s desire to be the knight in shining armor. And hey, I do need someone to open the door and help me with my coat and assist me with getting on to a bar stool, so it works out nicely! One guy is moving back to Ford in two weeks, and the other lives in western Pennsylvania. I’m not ready to share details yet, particularly on the Pennsylvania guy, so let’s just see what happen in the coming weeks.)

So, while I cannot wait to get this damn brace off my leg, at least it can remind me that this is just one moment in my life. Permanent damage has not been done. I will heal and bounce back, and I will have the love and support of my family and friends… just like when I got divorced.

What misfortune have you endured that made you more appreciative of your life?

Divorced Woman Breaks Her Kneecap. Who Will Take Care of Her?

I call it my Terminator Brace.
You should see how I fill out sweatpants. HOT!

“Emergency contact is Max?” the receptionist asked without looking away from her laptop screen.

I was in Urgent Care at my local hospital with my friend Pete. Three days after running my third half marathon, Pete and I had gone to a wine tasting in the afternoon in Manhattan. We had a fun, tipsy time day drinking, but afterward, I somehow tripped on the sidewalk (probably over my own foot) and l apparently I broke my entire fall with my left knee. By the time we were on the train back to Ford, my knee was so swollen that my jeans were tight around it. So, we went straight to Urgent Care.

During the intake, the receptionist reviewed my file. We updated my address (the one I shared with Max), my name (Max’s last name), and, of course, the emergency contact.

“No, please change the emergency contact. It’s now my sister, Katherine,” I said evenly, trying to focus on the pain in my knee and not the small lump forming in my throat.

Once my file was updated, Pete rolled me in my wheelchair back to the waiting area. He tried to make me laugh as I flipped between worrying about the shooting pain in my knee and my disbelief that in this moment, it was happening again.

I missed my ex-husband.

Over and over, even now two years after I filed for divorce, these moments crop up when my divorce unexpectedly kicks me in the gut.

I called my mom. If I couldn’t have Max, I definitely wanted to talk to my mom. I started telling her about my knee, but assured her I’d be OK. She told me to keep her updated.

A few minutes later, I was in an examining room and the medical attention [torture] began.

The attendant needed my jeans to come off. The pain of trying to stand was terrible, like nothing I’ve ever felt. I couldn’t put any weight on my leg so it took a team effort to get my pants off. The team included Pete, and through my start of what would be hours of tears, I gasped out, “Don’t enjoy this too much!”

The doctor tried to examine my knee, but every move was putting me in greater pain. When he left the room, I cried harder.

“Pete, please don’t take this the wrong way, but I want Max! And I’m so fucking mad that all this time later, I still want him!”

I sniffed. I thought about it for a moment. I didn’t exactly want Max, not for real. More like I wanted the Max from about five years ago. His mom is a nurse, and he inherited her calm in medical situations, like the times when I burned my hand on the toaster oven, when I had a small skin growth removed from my back, and when I sliced my finger on a shattered pint glass. He quietly and confidently dressed my wounds, making me feel loved and safe.

I was scared. I had never so much as sprained a finger, and I haven’t even been sick in years. I don’t know about you, but being scared like this just made me want family. The harsh reality was that Max was no longer family. 

No, it was Mom who I needed.

Right. Now.

When I was a child, I had severe asthma. During my late night nebulizer treatments and many trips to the emergency room, it was always Mom who was there. (Dad is awesome too, but he doesn’t do medical; Dad’s motto was, “wait until Mommy gets home” for all matters of injury or bodily fluids.) She would let me squeeze her cold hand as I sobbed from adrenalin shots.

In hindsight, Mom must have been pretty scared sometimes, seeing her daughter gasping for breath. But, like Max, Mom quietly and confidently made me feel loved and safe.

Through my tears, I asked – let’s be honest, demanded! – that Pete call my mom. By now it was 9:30 p.m. and she lived an hour away. He asked her to come as soon as possible.

Next, they had to X-ray my knee. I have never given birth, but I sure hope the pain isn’t as bad as this was! I couldn’t hold back anymore. As the technician made a futile attempt to straighten my knee, I started wailing.

“Call my mom again!” I cried desperately to Pete.

 “Where is she?!”

Turns out it had been about 20 minutes since I’d last demanded that Pete call her. Whoops.

Finally the doctor came in and told me I had fractured my kneecap. The next step was to put me in a full leg brace.

The positioning for the X-ray was bad. Straightening my leg and strapping it into the brace was worse.

Poor Pete. I made him call my mom again.

Finally, I was given a Percocet and we were told to go home. Can you imagine what a nightmare it was to get me into my apartment?!  I was wobbly on my crutches and all in all a miserable sight to behold. Again, POOR PETE.

Finally, Mom arrived. 

She and Pete hoisted me into my king size bed. At last, Pete could go home.

I thanked him again and then cried myself to sleep.

Breakfast of Champions.
Thanks, Mom!

At 7 a.m., I called out for Mom, as she had slept on the couch. She came rushing in with Percocet in one hand, and Halloween Peeps and Twizzlers in her other hand.

Even through my pain, I laughed a little.

Mom, clearly exhausted, smiled and shrugged. “When I went to the all-night pharmacy, I saw these and thought you should have them. I know the Peeps aren’t stale yet but we can open them now and they should be the way you like them in a day or two.”

Hells yeah, you guys. I love stale Peeps, and leave it to my mom to remember that, even at 2 a.m. at the pharmacy.

I took my Percocet and then Mom got in bed with me. Not long after, we both fell asleep in the bed that I used to share with my ex-husband.

Mom was who I needed, and no one else. 

When has your family supported you in a moment that would have previously been handled by your spouse? 

Shedding Tears and Finding Hope at a Wedding

View from a lighthouse in Edgartown

Last Saturday afternoon, the sun was shining on Martha’s Vineyard, a preppy, swanky island off the coast of Massachusetts. I sat on a hard pew in a Catholic church among my old crew from high school, waiting for Maureen, one of my oldest friends, to walk down the aisle.

The music transitioned. The parents of the bride and groom. The flower girls. The maid of honor.

My stomach was slowly starting to knot.

Then Maureen, on her father’s arm. They glided down the aisle as the music swelled. She was beautiful, and not because of her gown. She was full of joy, optimism, dreams, thanks to her love for her groom, Jason.

I once felt that way. Now I was sitting here alone (and without tissues, dammit).

The readings from the Book of Whatever began and the knot in my gut moved up to my throat. Max and I had a Catholic wedding. We had readings from the Book of Whatever.

I couldn’t sit there anymore. I had to leave.

I slipped out of the church into the sunshine and hurried across the street to a bench. The tears welled in my eyes as I thought about five years ago, when I was engaged, so full of hope for my marriage.

Look at how that turned out.

I hung my head. Five years ago I was preparing to walk down the aisle on my parents’ arms, and today I sit here divorced and alone. What bullshit!

Then, I told myself it was also bullshit to sit here wallowing. Shake it off, Kat, and get your ass back inside.

I did it. I was in time to hear a few more words from the priest before Maureen floated back down the aisle, this time on the arm of her beaming new husband. They were so happy. Though I still ached a bit, I am so happy I didn’t miss that moment.

So then we headed to the reception. It was at a picture perfect golf course. I mean, you wouldn’t even believe how lovely everything was. I grabbed a glass of champagne and smiled to myself. I figured I was in the clear since I’d already gotten weepy at the church, so time to just enjoy this celebration.

Of course, I was wrong. 

Divorce just loves to throw a brick at your heart, particularly when you’re not expecting it.

After my friends ate every miniature shrimp, spanakopita, and bacon-wrapped somethings at the cocktail hour, it was time to take our seats under the tent to welcome the families and the newly married happy couple!

There I was, clapping away, a happy woman cheering for my dear friend and their elated families, when the first dance song started. Of course, it was my first dance song, "Can’t Help Falling in Love." Of fucking course.

I turned to one of the girls at my table and blurted out, “I’m leaving!” and ran out of the tent onto the golf course.

As tears blurred my vision, I found a bench as the sun set. This time, the tears weren’t gentle. They were forceful. Just like at Nora’s wedding, I started sobbing, that icky gasping kind of crying that adults rarely do. What the fuck?!  This is my third wedding since I got divorced! But I guess I’m still not used to going to weddings without Max. We went to soooo many weddings in 2006-2008, and we traveled for many of those – Costa Rica, Puerto Rico, Seattle, and the list continues. And further, Max had always wanted to go with me to Martha’s Vineyard or Nantucket. We actually had a trip to Nantucket booked for December 2010, but he was so sick with depression we had to cancel the trip.

Breathe, Kat, breathe.

I pulled myself together and went to the restroom. Shockingly, my makeup was intact. (Thanks to 2010-2012, I am quite skilled at crying in public without smearing my makeup.) Again, I took a deep breath and went back to the reception.

I had a wonderful time, dancing, laughing, and drinking champagne. I left my tears on the golf course.

But, there was one really special moment I didn’t see coming.

When I stepped off the dance floor to kick off my high heels and chug some water, Maureen’s mom (whom I haven’t seen or spoken to in over a decade) approached me.

“Kat, I know that life has dealt you a tough hand. But, I really want you to know… it gets better.”

I was stunned. Maureen’s mom was divorced prior to marrying Maureen’s dad, something that we have never spoken about. It was so thoughtful (and vulnerable) of her to reference her past pain to give me hope. Afterall, this was her daughter's wedding day!

For just a moment, we talked about divorce without actually saying the D-word. I confessed to her that I don’t understand why I had to go through the heartache, but I know that I will someday.

“Yes,” she assured me, “you will eventually.”

This from a woman who has been remarried for nearly 40 years. This from a woman whose brand new son-in-law is on his second marriage.  Both unions truly give me hope of finding love again.

I believe her. Someday I will understand my heartache. And with each passing day, divorced life does get better.

If you are divorced, do you feel that you understand why you had to go through it?

My Dating Diet -- A 30-Day Plan to Say "No" to Men and "Yes" to Me

Imagine it’s January 2. You just spent a month eating everything, ever (Christmas cookies! Candy canes! Salty snacks with dippy stuff!). Oh and while you were at it, you drank everything, ever (wine! Champagne! Poinsettia martinis! Winter lager!). Hell, you might even have had a drunk cigarette or two. Gross. Anyway, all this indulgence was super fun… until now. You hit that point where you just feel tired and gross inside and out. It means one thing: time for some dieting and detoxification.

Well, in terms of dating, consider August 25 to be my equivalent January 2.

Since June, I’ve done quite a bit of proper dating plus an assortment of other strange communications with men (such as the 22-year-old texting me for the first time in four months asking if I’d like to fuck him). I’ve had some great first dates that led to second dates… and yet I’m here alone in my (awesome) apartment, reflecting on the letdowns of the past two months. Definitely not unhappy, but definitely still single.

I’m a firm believer that dating should be fun. No, it must be fun. If it’s not, it means it’s time to reassess.

I hate to admit it, but dating is starting to get not fun for me.
That's not okay.

So, effective now, I’m going on a Dating Diet for 30 days. 

I need to take a little time recenter myself. Whether things are going well or poorly in my dating life, it’s quite distracting. So, I need to cut back or eliminate distractions and replace with emotionally nutritious choices.

My Dating Diet

Goal: From August 26 until September 25, I will specifically focus on my personal and professional goals for one month without the distraction of dating. 

I will not pursue dating, so, for example, I will not contact anyone from my past and I will not sign up for online dating. (If a date opportunity presents itself, I can consider going if the fit really seems right.)

I will not booty call either. (But I might accept a bootycall. Sorry, a girl’s got needs.) I will use my toys as needed because there’s no emotional fallout from dancing with myself!

The Plan

Physical 

Between now and September 25, I will –

1. Lose five pounds. I currently weigh 136 pounds, which is the most I’ve weighed in over five years. It’s a small gain, but it’s making me self-conscious, so it’s time to change. So, I'll keep up my veggie intake, and I'll need to decrease my booze intake, which leads us to...
2. Drink alcohol no more than two days per week. I’ll try for just one. I'm not going for sainthood, people.
3. Deep condition my curly mane hair two times. Minimizing frizz makes me happy.
4. Apply a deep conditioning face mask three times. Fighting breakouts and wrinkles makes me happy.
5. Go to six yoga classes. I just got a killer Groupon for a fancy studio! Between not dating and  training for my third half marathon in a year, this is the time to tap into my Zen or something.

Professional/Personal

Between now and September 25, I will –

1. Update my resume and cover letter. They say you should always keep your resume current because shit happens. But I also believe it will be good for me to reflect on my accomplishments the past few years (especially through the end of my marriage).
2. Go to my therapist. Just seems like that should be on my list since I haven't had a session since May.
3. Donate at least two shopping bags of stuff. I’m not a packrat, but I’m sure there’s crap in my closets I don’t need. Getting rid of unnecessary stuff is good for the soul.
4. Contact three people to say thank you for his or her love and support. I am constantly in awe of my circle of friends and family and feel so very blessed to have them. This is the time to tell them.
5. Finish my book for book club on time for our September meeting. I was the loser who didn’t finish the book in time for our last two meetings, and honestly, it was in part because of how much I was doing dating-related stuff.
6. Stop avoiding my financial planner. I have a mortgage to pay, so shit is real. She has my financial documents. All I have to do is meet with her. No more excuses!
7. Hire an electrician to install overhead lighting in my living and dining rooms. It’s so freaking dark in here that I can imagine what Laura Ingalls Wilder felt like. Well lit spaces must be good for my mood or something.
8. Hire a painter to paint my living room, kitchen, and guest bathroom. Everything is white. White is for a boring rental, not for a place I own. Give this girl some color!

So that is my personal version of my Dating Diet! Notice that I have chosen to not think about what’s next for me with dating. If I’m in a good place, good things will (continue to) come.

Over the coming weeks, I'll keep you updated on how my diet progresses!

Related reading: The Dating Detox.

Have you had to go on your own version of a Dating Diet? How did you spend the time? What behaviors did you change?

"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?

5 Ways that Living Alone After Divorce is Awesome… Except When It Sucks

"Remember: the time you feel lonely is the time
you most need to be by yourself.
Life's cruelest irony." -Douglas Coupland

Being home alone is awesome... except when it's not.

It’s been 75 days since Max and I sold our condo and officially went our separate ways. My new apartment is awesome and I’m thrilled to live by myself. I can be deliciously selfish. Everything is the way I want it, according to my rules. I don’t have to be considerate of anyone else’s feelings, tastes, or judgments. After living with my ex for so long, these are especially welcome changes!

But I’m discovering that living alone when I was 23 and single is very different from living alone because I got divorced. I guess I didn’t really anticipate that when I moved here in September. I thought I would love living alone as much as I did the last time.

Confession: I don't fully love living alone (yet).

Sometimes, especially on Sundays, my own company doesn’t quite fulfill me. Sometimes, I find myself wanting to do something some trivial task and then I realize it’s very challenging alone but it would be easy with someone else. Sometimes, I have to admit that I can get a little lonesome.

As I've noted several times since I got divorced, it's amazing how often I can experience opposing feelings at the same time. My current living situation is no exception.

Here are 5 ways that I'm finding living alone after divorce is both cool and uncool:

1. Cool: Monday through Saturday.

Uncool: Sunday. I’m still struggling a little with the first day of the week. Max and I always enjoyed our Sundays together, usually just chilling at home and getting ready to start another week. At night, we often got a pizza and watched a movie. Then when Jason and I were dating, we spent pretty much every Sunday together. Now, it’s just me.

2. Cool: I don’t have to clean up after anyone. I keep my apartment clean!

Uncool: There’s no one to help me with the cleaning. Max was much better at vacuuming than I am. I get bored and the skip corners. He would actually move furniture to get every surface.

3. Cool: I can decorate my apartment however I want.

Uncool: Hanging stuff on the walls. It’s really hard to hang a picture on the wall by myself. Plus I get really impatient when it comes to measuring and Max was so meticulous with stuff like that.

4. Cool: I can be a little sketchy and no one has to know. I had to walk the straight and narrow with Max because he walked the straight and narrow.

Uncool: Temptation can run rampant! I could bring home a different guy every night. I could smoke pot every day. But are these good choices? Probably not. The only way to keep myself in check is my own conscience. Boring!

5. Cool: I can cook whatever I want. I don’t have to come up with recipes that would work for both a vegetarian (me) and a meat eater (Max).

Uncool: There’s no one to talk to over dinner. There’s no one to compliment my dish (should it actually deserve complimenting). There’s no one to do the dishes since I did the cooking.

But don’t get me wrong, dear readers! Overall, I really, really like living alone. I am so overjoyed to be rid of our condo, truly no words can express it. It’s a bazillion times healthier to not live with my ex-husband. But as with any big change, transitioning can kind of suck!

What was the hardest part about adjusting to living without your ex?


See also: What Successful People Do On Sunday Nights

Catching My Breath: Attending My First Wedding Post-Divorce

“Wise men say, only fools rush in…”

I rushed out of the softly lit ballroom.

Last night at Nora's wedding, I ran down the hall in my towering high heels. My eyes filled with tears and my throat thickened. My hand covered my mouth to keep any sobs from escaping. My breathing turned from shallow to near hyperventilation by the time I reached the bridal suite, the private room reserved for the bridal party. I flung myself down on a velvet couch, the full skirt of my bridesmaid dress fanned out around me. With my face buried in my hands, I gasped for breath and the tears started.

Apparently another bridesmaid and a friend spotted me leaving the ballroom and kindly followed me (I didn’t even know they were behind me). They entered the bridal suite and saw me, a trembling pile of pathetic bridesmaid elegance with my updo and rhinestones and liquid eyeliner. I looked up at them and thinly said, “That’s my wedding song.”

My hands started shaking and briefly I got lightheaded. I felt like I was about to drown. My entire body was reacting to having heard the song!

Each of them hugged me tightly as I started rambling to justify my silent outburst.

“I did so well today!" I exclaimed. "I haven’t cried at all, not even a little. Max even texted me before to see if I was OK and I told him I was and I really meant it. I made it through their first dance and was all happy for Nora, even though it made me think of my first dance with Max and how we took dance lessons but I still wasn’t sad. But then our song came on, our fucking song, of all the romantic songs in the fucking world, our song!”

Even in the moment, as I tried to recapture my own breath, I couldn’t believe the abrupt change in me. One moment I was the happy bridesmaid clapping and cheering and genuinely grinning with joy for my friend, and then boom, I hear a few bars of “Can’t Help Falling In Love” and I go to pieces. Another one of those wacky emotional rollercoaster divorce moments had blindsided me.

I looked up at my friends. “Shit, did I make a scene? I was trying not to! Did anyone see me?”

During the week leading up to the wedding, I had given myself a talking-to about making sure I just enjoy the wedding and do not take away from the happy experience for anyone else. Up to this moment, I’d totally stuck to it, from the toast I gave at the rehearsal dinner to walking down the aisle in the church. I had maintained my composure and genuinely enjoyed everything about the wedding festivities.

They assured me that no, I didn’t make a scene. (Added bonus: with almost 300 guests at Nora's wedding, it would be easy to get away with escaping the ballroom unnoticed.) I sighed with relief.

Enough of this, I told myself. I took a few more deep breaths as I shook it off. I dabbed my eyes with tissues; remarkably, I hadn’t totally screwed up my makeup. Over the past few years of crying in bathrooms, I have gotten quite skilled at crying and not messing up my makeup. I stood up and found that I was again grounded. 

I exhaled.

“OK.  Let’s go back in there. I don’t want to miss anymore of the wedding.”

We left the bridal suite and I calmly strolled down the hall back to ballroom. My confidence and composure returned. The rest of the evening was wonderful, and I didn’t shed any more tears about me, my divorce, or Max. (In fact, I ended up only getting two hours of sleep last night, but that'll be a story for another week!)

What was your first wedding post-divorce like for you? Read Nora's perspective on this time in our friendship.

I'm Not A Mom. Do I Cry or Cheer? 12 Reasons to Cheer for Being Childfree (Right Now)

This week, I was in CVS buying a pile of cards. Two of my friends had babies. My brother and sister-in-law’s and parents’ anniversaries are coming up. And of course, Mother’s Day. (Any other card-worthy occasions we can add to make this divorcee feel sorry for herself?)

You should know that I pride myself on finding the perfect card, which means I’m one of those annoying people in the card aisle who has to read every card before deciding on one. As I waded through the sappy Mother's Day cards, tears sprung to my eyes, quite unexpectedly. Would anyone ever buy me a Mother’s Day card?

Well-meaning friends and family often tell me how “lucky” I am that Max and I never had kids because when we go our separate ways, it's over. They also say that being 33 isn’t that old for me to have kids with someone else in the future. But let’s be honest: I’m not getting any younger and I’m not in a relationship, so do the math. (For goodness sake, I still LIVE with Max.) The harsh reality is that I might never be a mother because of the years I spent trying to salvage a sexless relationship.

Before Max and I got married, we agreed that having kids was a deal breaker – we both definitely wanted to be parents. As our sex life disappeared, we took to telling people that we weren't sure if we wanted kids. This actually was true for me; I knew my relationship wasn't stable enough to bring a baby into the mix, which genuinely made me NOT want kids, even though Max and I would've been a fantastic team as parents.

Now that I'm single again, there are moments when I'm so unsure about where I stand on motherhood. Being 33 and childless is not a choice I made, but rather a corner I backed in to. Max stopped having sex with me and there was nothing I or any therapist could do to reverse it. I admit it: I’m angry at Max for possibly taking away my chance at motherhood. Some part of me will always resent him for it, whether that is fair or not.

But I prefer to have a positive outlook, so here are 12 reasons why I’m glad to NOT have kids at this exact moment in my life:

12.There are no Baby Einstein videos or Old McDonald mp4s clogging up my iPhone. My phone contains stuff that amuses me and only me.
11. I can answer a booty call and not come home until 3 a.m.
10. My breasts are mine. They are playthings that nicely fill out sweaters, and not a food source. Hot!
 9. I could splurge on my right-hand ring and monogram necklace. I never would’ve done that if I had kids.
 8. I can waste time if I feel like it. Yesterday, I ran a 10K then sat on my friend’s couch smoking some weed and watching How to Train Your Dragon. Find me a mom who wasted a Saturday that stupidly and awesomely.
 7. Since it’s just Max and me living here, it’s not hard to keep the condo clean while it’s on the market. When my parents put our house on the market in the late 1980s, they had three kids under the age of 11. Sounds like a nightmare!
 6. I have time to dedicate to keeping my body and soul healthy.  Exercise and volunteering are critical for keeping my problems in perspective. I ran a 15K last month and plan to run a half marathon by October. I’ve also been going to yoga and Spinning regularly for months now. I am keeping up my volunteer work; this summer I’ll spend a week as a volunteer sleep away camp counselor for kids with cancer. If I had a baby, I just wouldn’t have this kind of time.
 5. I make meals that I like. No chicken fingers, no pureed apples and pears, no Puffs.
 4. If I had a baby, I would focus on my baby and not other people's babies. Since I don’t have my own, I get to focus on my niece, nephews, and my friends’ children. I play with and snuggle them and then give them back when they start whining or smelling suspicious.
 3. I don’t bore people with the hideously dull and/or disgusting details of diaper rash and sleep training and teething. I find other ways to bore people.
 2. It’s Sunday morning and my big motivation to get out of bed was to go to my 10 a.m. yoga class. You parents whose kids wake you at 6 a.m. on a Sunday have my condolences.
 1. When I felt I had to get a divorce, I didn’t have to consider anyone’s feelings except Max’s and mine. I truly cannot imagine going through a divorce with children.

A theme I keep coming back to is how remarkable it is that I can experience polar opposite emotions in the same moment. This Mother's Day, I'm simultaneously relieved and heartbroken to not be a mom.

What does Mother’s Day mean to you after your divorce?

Related reading: What not to say to people who don't want kids.

One Bridal Shower, Two Bachelorette Parties, and Several Pity Parties

In the past eight days, I attended two bachelorette parties and one bridal shower. This would be a bit much for anyone, but for someone newly divorced, it's A LOT much.

My friends and the brides-to-be, Lillian and Nora, got engaged in December 2011 and April 2012, respectively. They are both marrying great men. With more than a decade of friendship with each of these women, I mean it when I say that I'm deeply happy for both of them. They have been loving and consistent friends to me over the years and it's so cool to see them being so loved and appreciated by their fiances.

But one of the bitches of getting divorced is how you can experience polar opposite emotions at the exact same time during a singular experience. (See Changing My Name.) I'll admit that these friends' engagements have also piqued feelings of utter sadness and self-pity.

In June of 2012, just three days after Max dropped the life-changing bomb that he wasn't attracted to me, I went to Lillian's engagement party alone. (Max was out of town.) The party was outdoors under a tent, complete with flowers in mason jars and live music. It was a beautiful summer night, and just perfect for celebrating Lillian's engagement. Instead, for me, my world was in turmoil, and no one knew yet. I was so utterly miserable that I only stayed for an hour before disappearing and driving an hour to my parents' open arms. This is completely uncharacteristic of me, but I couldn't bear another second of bridal bliss before I'd end up sobbing in the soft grass.

A month later, Max and I attended Nora's engagement party. We were the first guests to arrive and among the last to leave. Little did we know at the time that it would be the last function we would attend as a couple. The tension between us was palpable, as I already felt like I didn't know how to act around him anymore. Meanwhile, everyone gushed over their happiness for Nora. As her bridesmaid and dear friend, I agreed wholeheartedly. I also wanted to vomit, or maybe break things.

Now, here it is nine months later. I'm divorced and it was time to go to more bridal events. At Lillian's bachelorette, I was the sole divorced person. At Nora's bachelorette, I wasn't the only divorced friend but my marriage corpse was the most fresh. Since at both events the wine flowed like, well, wine, I drank plenty and probably talked too much about my newfound singlehood. (Sorry ladies.) But, I did OK as far as being a fun guest and toasting my friends. But on the inside, my heart hurt. Why didn't my marriage work? Why was I in such denial about seeing the signs? Would I ever find love like Lillian's and Nora's again?

Since I did OK at Lillian's bachelorette, I was a total idiot about Nora's bridal shower. Of course my first shower post-divorce would touch a nerve, but I just didn't think of it. I'm a big believer in being prepared for everything, including emotional outbursts, and I was woefully under prepared.

I arrived at Nora's shower a bit bleary-eyed after Lillian's bachelorette, but with a pretty dress and a smile on my face, I was pleased to be there and make it a nice afternoon for Nora. As the happy occasion got underway, I became more and more quiet. (This is very unlike me!) By the time the bridesmaids assembled to assist with the gift unwrapping, I was closer to (internally) losing my cool. As I tore open the wrapping paper and loosened the ribbons on the gifts from Bed Bath & Beyond and Crate & Barrel -- the same places where I registered for my wedding -- I was flooded with memories of the wonderful shower Max's and my moms threw for us. At my shower, I was so optimistic and nearly bursting with love and joy from my full heart for Max and our families and friends -- which was exactly how Nora looked. Well, you know what happened next -- I ended up sobbing in the ladies room. (I have cried a lot of divorce-related tears in various bathroom stalls.)

(The crazy part of this story is when I got home. I walked in the door, looked at Max, and said, "Can I come be sad?" He replied, "yes," and just opened his arms. I cried on him for 10 minutes. How odd that the best person to comfort me was my ex-husband.)

The good news is that Nora had no idea that her bliss evoked such self-pity for me, which was the most important thing to me. Every bride should feel as elated as I did leading up to my wedding. My mixed emotions have created a balancing act that I'll have to walk.

Oh, and waterproof mascara -- that will be required for my friends' weddings in June.

How did you handle wedding-related events after your breakup?