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?

27 Reasons I'll Never Forget Being 33 Years Old

On December 27, I turned 34 years young.

Being 33 was one hell of a year! One of the record books, and by “record books” I mean this blog. The year kicked off with a surprise birthday gathering with my closest friends in NYC (thank you again, Sue and Ali!), and it set the tone for the year. My 33rd year was one of ups and downs, but so much growth.

In chronological order, here are the 27 reasons I’ll never forget being 33:

1. Went on some dates with Todd. I thought I was ready to start dating. I wasn’t.

2. Made out with Todd. He was the first guy to see my boobs since Max. I thought I was going to have sex with him. Turned out he had HPV. No sex for me.
        2a.  Got my first of three Gardasil shots. I figured I was single again, so better safe than sorry.

3. Entered a courtroom married. Sat in the big chair next to the judge. Left the courtroom divorced.
         3a.  Started this blog the night before. Yay!

4. Interviewed realtors and then put our condo on the market in February. We thought it would sell in a month. We were wrong.
         4a.  This kicked off a streak of making my bed everyday for six months. I hadn’t done that since I lived under my parents’ roof.

5. Met a more adorable than obnoxious 25-year-old (who would become The 26-Year-Old) who thought I was sexy. Who, me? Hello, ego boost!

6. Bought condoms for the first time since Max and I first started dating. Put said condoms into the inside pocket of every purse I have. In the words of Pretty Woman, I'm a safety girl!

7. Formed a booty call relationship with the 26-Year-Old and had my first orgasm since Max stopped touching me. We hooked up here and there throughout the year (but no sex).

8. For the first time in a decade, I bought a pretty glass bowl and some pot, which I kept hidden in my night table drawer. My rule-following roommate/ex-husband would’ve been none-to-happy if he’d known about it!

9. Selected a wonderful vibrator and discovered the joy of masturbation. This toy is also stored in my night table drawer – they don’t call it a goodie drawer for nothing!

I absolutely love my I'm Married To Me ring.

10. Sold my engagement ring and bought my right hand ring. I've been wearing my new ring for nine months and that ring still fills me with pride and strength.

11. Went to Disney World with my parents, sister, and her two kids. Disney World is the happiest place on earth.

12. Went to Nora’s and Lillian’s weddings back-to-back weekends. I hadn’t gone to a wedding single since 2004. And you know what? I still had fun at both weddings (and, fine, a little crying in the bathrooms too).

13. Slept with someone’s boyfriend. Not my classiest move, but I FINALLY broke my three-year streak of zero sex! But no more getting frisky with a guy I know is taken.

14. Reconnected with Todd. Made out with him on July 4. Thought something would start up with him. I was wrong.

15. Signed up for OKCupid and went on some dates. I had never done online dating before, and I found it to be pretty fun.

16. Went to my first country show -- Miranda Lambert and Dierks Bentley! My two girlfriends and I set up an amazing tailgate and sneaked booze into the amphitheater. Awesome way to spend a summer night.

17. Met Jason, AKA The Incredible Sex. We would date for two months. I adored his openness, intensity, and skills in the sack. I couldn’t stand that he smoked, was irresponsible, less educated than me and my friends, and generally self-centered. Yeah, not exactly my best match, but it was a ton of fun until he told me he loved me and messed it all up!

18. After multiple price drops and tons of frustration, we sold our condo in August. From the verbal offer to closing, the process took not even three weeks. Thank you, cash offer. My verdict on home ownership: it sucked!

19. After being in separate bedrooms for almost a year, Max and I moved into our respective apartments. After living with him for six years, I’m still not totally used to NOT living with him.

20. Had a wonderful night out with my friends for my Divorce Party (but I didn’t call it a "divorce party").

21. Ran my first half marathon on a gorgeous autumn day. It was a wonderful experience and I can’t wait to do another!

22. Survived my first wedding anniversary as a divorcee with a Me Day.

23. Traveled to Cancun with Sue and two other college friends for a week of reading, sleeping, drinking, and eating. I hadn’t been someplace tropical since my honeymoon in 2009.

"Kat, I'm honored to be your secret boyfriend.
Hey baby, let's drop it to the floor."

24. Sat for a family portrait, which meant three married couples... and me. I’m so glad we did it, but it further reminds me that my stupid biological clock is ticking. Will I ever get married again and have kids? Time will tell…

25. Hosted my first party all by myself. I’d always wanted to host a Christmas party, but Max wasn’t one for hosting. And my Christmas brunch was great, if I do say so!

26. Dyed pink streaks into my hair. Because I wanted to, because I can, and because no one can tell me not to!

27. Saw Pitbull, my secret boyfriend, in concert. The night before my 34th birthday, Yoshi took me -- what a great birthday present. (Pitbull is my secret boyfriend because he doesn’t know he’s my boyfriend and I’m going to have his rapper babies.)

How can my 34th year top all of this? What are your predictions for my 34th year? 

Being Divorced on My Wedding Anniversary: Remembering My Wedding Day

Autumn in the New York City area is glorious. From the brilliant colors of the leaves to the return of sweaters, it’s an exciting time of year, filled with new beginnings and old traditions.

What Autumn Meant to Us

Max loves autumn. It reminds him of his glory days running cross country. He also loves football, the smell of crisp fall air, and knowing that Thanksgiving was just around the corner. 

Me? I liked autumn just fine but I also associated it with loss. In late 2003, my sister Katherine's then 29-year-old husband was diagnosed with lymphoma.  I was 24 years old when I witnessed fighting proof of my sister’s profound love for and commitment to her husband. She was just 28 years old and advocating and researching and caregiving with the tenacity of a spouse with decades of marriage behind her. 

Despite their fiercest efforts, my brother-in-law died in his home on October 17, 2004. I was forever changed by the love and grief I witnessed, particularly during that month. That "in sickness and in health" stuff was no joke.

Fast forward to 2008 when I joyfully accepted Max’s marriage proposal. We started wedding venue shopping and ended up looking for autumn wedding dates. October 17, 2009, was available but I declined for October 24, 2009.

Maybe now, I had thought, beautiful October could have new joy for me and my family.

Kat the Bride, being escorted into the church by my dad
and the umbrella carrier.

On October 24, 2009, Max and I said our vows on a rainy, dreary day. It didn’t matter. We were both deliriously happy. My wedding day will probably always be one of the happiest days if my life.

Almost exactly three years later, I filed for divorce. I was so emotionally overwhelmed that the terrible timing with our anniversary hardly registered with me.

But this year, free of living with Max and lawyers and paperwork and uncertainty, my anniversary hung over me like a threatening cloud. The question was whether the cloud would quietly pass or violently storm. I was awash in sad memories of my brother-in-law’s final days, the happy memories of my wedding, and the horrible truth that fierce love and dedication saved neither my brother-in-law nor my marriage.

Allow me to share the details of my wedding anniversary when I was no longer married.

October 24, 2013 and I'm Not Married Anymore

What would have been my fourth anniversary fell on a Thursday. I decided the best thing was to take the day off from work for a Me Day. I lined up a perfect day. 

I woke up to a brilliant blue sky, so already the day was different from October 24, 2009. I started Me Day with a bagel and The Golden Girls, two guaranteed Kat pleasers. Then I took a Spinning class. After getting nice and sweaty, I headed to a day spa for a facial. 

Fresh faced, I ate Mexican food for lunch while reading People. As I nearly gagged over Kate Middleton's post-baby body, I glanced at my watch. Four years ago at this time, photographers were capturing the primping process at my parents' house.

Today it was just me and my burrito.

I texted Max. I told him I was thinking about him and asked how he was. His response:

I am thinking about you too.
I was going to email you later but I’ll just tell you now that I love you
 and I hope today isn’t too tough for you.

Tears spilled on to my burrito.

I texted back that I loved him too, and that I have no regrets. He agreed.

And that is all we said to each other that day. Hardly as monumental as wedding vows, but those couple of texts made such a difference for me. I still felt sad and missed Max, but I felt... peaceful. (That doesn't feel like the right word, but close enough.)

That evening, I met Yoshi at the pub where we had my divorce party. We had a few beers and a few laughs, and then we called it a night. Later that night, I was able to rest peacefully alone in my massive bed in my one-bedroom apartment. I’d come a long way since last October 24, and I know I’ll be even stronger next October 24. 

In time, the beauty of autumn will feel hopeful to me again.

How did you handle your anniversary after your breakup or divorce? Did you ignore it or did you recognize it?

GUEST POST: Saying "I do" While My Friend is Saying "I Don’t Anymore…"

You've heard a bit about Nora, a dear friend of mine who got married in June. I was honored to be her bridesmaid. While I loved watching Nora and her now husband proceed to their wedding day, it stirred up a lot for me about the loss of my relationship with Max. Hers was the first wedding I attended since my divorce. 

I asked Nora to share what it was like to be preparing for her marriage while I, one of her closest friends, was in the process of dissolving mine.

Nora and I are the ones in the fuchsia shoes. 

When Kat asked me to write a guest entry on her blog, I was both extremely honored, and also very nervous.   Discussing my wedding and marriage is one thing, but discussing how I felt about another person’s divorce is entirely another.  But Kat has assured me that my honesty and perspective is welcomed and appreciated, so I will do my best to do this blog justice.

As many of you reading this know, planning a wedding is exhausting and time consuming, and by default, you become the center of attention.  Because of these things, I constantly had to remind myself to stay grounded and to keep things in perspective…my wedding was not the most important thing happening ever.  This came into play a lot with Kat.  Don’t get me wrong, Kat was incredibly happy for me and supportive throughout my entire wedding process.  But, I’m human and not an idiot, so I knew that watching one of her best friends start her life with the love of her life, while she was ending hers with the person she thought was the love her HER life was not easy, and at times, almost unbearable.  At times, it was unbearable for me to even think about it.  I admit to containing my excitement over certain things, mostly when it pertained to knowing how right my decision to marry Craig was.  But at the same time, I also knew that Kat WANTED to hear about the band, and the photographer, and the fun party van I hired to drive the bridal party and their dates.  Not just because she was happy for me, but because she is one of my best friends, a bridesmaid, and a huge part of my life.  And for that, I will always be eternally grateful.

It was not easy to read her blog and find out that she had a meltdown at my bridal shower.  I felt sad and like a self-absorbed idiot who was fawning over the 6th of the same place setting while her friend was crying her eyes out in the bathroom.  This sentiment was echoed when I read about her meltdown at my wedding as well.  It got to the point where she would ask me “have you read my blog entry this week, I promise it won’t make you cry.”  But she always assured me that her intention was that I did not know she was crying while I was in my own little utopia and that I was not a self-absorbed idiot.

But the height of my realization of what a good friend Kat was to me and just exactly how difficult watching me plan my wedding while she was planning her divorce was happened when I asked her to come to my final dress fitting.  I know that this sounds like a stupid thing for me to ask her, but she was doing great, had just told me how much happier she was and that she knew her decision to divorce Max was the right one.  My mother and sisters could not come and she had not been to one yet, so I thought it would be fun.  She told me that seeing me in a wedding dress was going to be very difficult and asked me if she could think about it.  I said to her “Kat, you are going to have to see me in a wedding dress on my wedding day, don’t you think that is going to be difficult.” But of course, I let her think about it.  I was hoping she would decide to come with me, not for my benefit, but for hers.  She thought about it and in the end, she came with me, and told me that she was totally fine with it and was glad she came.  And so was I.

I am told that blog readers like lists, so I will leave you with one.  My sister finalized her divorce not too long before Kat filed for hers, so I’ve learned from both of these marriages/divorces.

Here are my top 5 lessons that I will remember in my marriage:

1. Sometimes you just can’t fix what’s broken.  Both Kat and my sister knew before getting married that they had at least one huge obstacle to overcome in their relationship.  I’m not saying that the marriages should not have happened, but it is important to know that some things cannot be fixed and it is up to us to determine the deal breakers from the not deal breakers.  Or what to fight over and what not to fight over.  I will learn to pick my battles.
2. Don’t sacrifice who you are, even just a little.  Both my sister and Kat, to a certain extent, sacrificed a little of themselves.  Both of their husbands were not very social (although for largely different reasons) and as a result it forced them to sacrifice nights out to stay at home with their husbands.  In Kat’s case, I found that she did things or did not do things because of him that did not reflect who she was, what she believed in, or what she wanted.  I know she ended up resenting this, and even if she didn’t, I did.  Compromise is one thing, but when you are the one that is always doing the compromising, that’s a problem.
3. Don’t give up too easily.  The thing I admire about both my sister and Kat is their attempt to honor their commitment to their marriages.  My sister held on because of the two children she shares with her ex-husband, and Kat because she truly loved Max and didn’t want to give up without giving her marriage the shot it deserved.  I know there will be rough times in my marriage, but staying committed and keeping the lines of open and honest communication can be the difference between working it out and losing out.
4. Sex is important.  Both my sister and Kat were basically in sexless marriages.  In Kat’s case, this ultimately led to the demise of her marriage.  While I know that Max’s lack of sex drive had little to do with his well, lack of sex drive, and more to do with personal demons that he has still yet to face, it made me realize that it is important.  It’s important to feel sexy and wanted, to make your partner feel sexy and wanted, and to be intimate in a way that only you and him can be intimate.  It also makes me feel extremely grateful instead of annoyed when my husband wants to rip my clothes off after I’ve had a long and tiring day.  At least he wants to, and I’m fairly certain always will.
5. Don’t ever forget your family and friends.  In the aftermath of my sister’s divorce, she has had to rely heavily on her family and, at times friends, for childcare.  Kat and Max never had children, but she has expressed over and over how lucky she feels to have such supportive family and friends.  As one of her supporting cast, I can attest.  She has surrounded herself with a fantastic group of individuals.  And this is largely because she is such a loyal, reliable, and wonderful friend.  And most importantly, a fun ass person to be with.  I know it is easy to get wrapped up in loving my husband and the life I am carving out with him, so I am making a solemn vow to make sure I stop to hang with and appreciate my wonderful family and friends who have been there for me through the good and the bad….even before I knew Craig.

Now, back to finishing up packing! My movers come tomorrow! I'll catch you up next week on my NEW apartment.

Dreams: Window to My Subconscious or Just Brain Farts?

Sometimes I think dreams have meaning as my subconscious works overtime to reconcile some issue in my life, but I also think other times dreams are just sleeping brain farts and don’t mean squat.

Since Max and I stopped sharing a bedroom and I filed for divorce, I have had surprisingly few dreams about him or us. But, starting the night before Nora’s wedding (my first wedding post-divorce), Max is infiltrating my dreams. Since I started this blog to help me sort through my unmarried life, let’s take a look at those dreams, shall we?

Holy crap! Why am I dreaming about my ex?!
And why are my eyes so scary?!

The night before Nora’s wedding (June 21)

I called off my own wedding the night before. I have never dreamed this before, not even when I confessed to my journal late at night, just weeks before my wedding, that I was terrified that the intimacy issue would tear us apart. Maybe riding Nora’s pre-wedding bliss brought me back to my own pre-wedding bliss, only this time with a harsh dose of reality: CALL IT OFF. Ouch.

A week after Nora's wedding

It was the equivalent of right now, and I found out somehow that Max was engaged! This was particularly shocking given that he spends so much time alone on the couch with ESPN or the History Channel. Seriously you guys, I think he’s as likely to have gone on a date or kissed anyone as Cheater is to dump his girlfriend or my former mother-in-law is to dump QVC or I am to dump Beverly Hills 90210. Like no freaking way.

So anyway, I said/screeched to Max, “But we promised each other that we would tell each other first about big life changing events!” (We did actually promise each other this months ago.)

He just shrugged and was all like, whatevs.

I got a little hysterical and yelled, “But you haven’t even dealt your shit yet! What kind of a person would marry you?!” (I’ve been in therapy off and on since December. Max, who has serious intimacy problems, has not set foot in a therapist’s office since we stopped going together, and as a far as I know he hasn’t read a self-help book, wrote in a journal, meditated, etc.)

The dream ended with me sobbing one of those super ugly cries. End scene.

My sister, who was widowed at 28 years old, was the first to warn me that men remarry fast, whether due to divorce or widowhood; I keep getting confirmation of this, so I know I need to brace myself for the possibility. Here’s the thing, Max really has no right to begrudge me moving on. I made it clear I wanted physical with emotional intimacy and he couldn’t deliver, so of course now I’m going to seek exactly what he couldn’t give me. But, the thought of him moving on seems so… unfair. I will admit it right now: it's unlikely that going to take it graciously if/when Max starts dating again. It will hurt me terribly, the thought that he was finally able to be intimate with someone after how very hard I tried to get him to open up to me and love me the way I needed to be loved.

I’d like think that my second thought would be to thank goodness that he was able to move past his problems and open up to someone. Eh, probably not. I’ll probably just bitch about it to you guys and my Twitter peeps.

Last week

It’s the night before my wedding (but I think it’s somehow current day). I had to assemble my bouquet myself. As I tried to put it together, it was full of pins or something, and I saw my hands scraped and bleeding. While my bridal bouquet tore my hands apart, a fire started in the kitchen of my parents’ house and the house started to burn down. Happy wedding day!

I’ve read that dreams symbolize how you connect with the world, so injured hands can suggest bruised ego and blood on your hands means guilt. Well, I think two of the most ego bruising experiences are rejection from your significant other (check!) and getting divorced (check!). And guilt? Oh, I have plenty of that. For one thing, I was raised Catholic, so there’s always something to feel guilty about. But more seriously, I tortured myself over leaving Max, someone with such serious problems… and problems that I think are rooted in sexual trauma of some kind. Leaving someone in pain can be absolutely necessary and the right thing to do, but it doesn’t change the guilt that I will always have. What do you think is the meaning to the house burning down? 

Whew, thanks for joining me on my dream interpretation. Now it’s your turn. Does your ex appear in your dreams? Do you dream about the way things were or how you wish things had gone? Have you learned anything about yourself or your relationship due to a dream? Or do you think dreams are just useless sleepy brain farts?

Check out my first post on Geek and Jock: Is Masturbation Healthy? Taking Matters Into My Own Hands With Joy.

I Got Laid! Now What?

Dear readers, it’s the moment we’ve all been waiting for. After three years as an involuntary born-again virgin, I’m happy to report that I have re-lost my virginity. 

Yes, folks, Kat finally got laid!

Allow me to share the story with you.

Last weekend at Nora’s wedding, I ended up hanging out late night at the after party at the hotel. The group got smaller and smaller. Eventually it was just me and this guy who I’ll call Cheater, someone I’d never met or talked to before, sitting around a fire pit. We started talking about the bride and groom and what a great couple they were. Then, the conversation took a big turn.

"Can I ask you a personal question?" he asked.

I took a sip of lukewarm white wine from my Solo cup. "Sure," I replied.

"How did you know that it wasn’t right with your ex-husband?" he asked carefully.

Well, this opened the floodgates for Cheater. He started telling me all about his girlfriend and that he thinks he knows he should break up with her but… (I’d heard bits about this drama from Nora before, but I pretended it was all new information. That is how girls operate.) Somehow I turned into his therapist and was very blunt with him, telling him obvious things that I learned the hard way, like if shit is not functioning right now, it’s only going to get worse if you ever get married. I should have charged him $200 an hour for my wit and insight.

Next thing I knew, he was throwing curveballs at me and totally started hitting on me, telling me how amazing I am, how hot I am, blah blah blah. Even in my tipsy state, I rolled my eyes at his sweet drivel but in spite of myself, I enjoyed hearing it. He was also practically salivating when he found out I hadn’t had sex in so long. Given I’d been drinking for about 17 hours, I was a little slow on the uptake at first, particularly because he had a girlfriend. (I’m kind of naïve in that I assume that people in relationships don’t cheat.)

Once I caught on, I debated. I mean, this is a random dude and I know he has a girlfriend. Obviously I didn’t know his girlfriend, but still, not very classy on my part to get it on with him. Then, the other part of me kicked in with, “But he says he’s dumping her, I'm not the one with a significant other so it’s his problem if he cheats, and he’d probably be pretty good in the sack.”

The sun was coming up, the birds were starting to chirp, so it was decision time.

Yeah, we all know where this went: back to his hotel room for two hours of raunchy fun. During breaks, I looked him square in the eye actually said to him, “You realize you have to tell your girlfriend, because if you don’t you’re a major dirtbag.” I really know how to contribute to the mood, don’t I?

By 7:30 a.m., thanks to 23 waking hours and several orgasms, I was done. Cheater asked me to stay and sleep with him, but I declined. (I still can’t handle sleeping beside a man – it’s just too much.) Before I left, he asked – no, begged – me for my number. I shrugged and gave it to him. If I had to do over, I would’ve said no. But anyway…

Andrea hits some ugly sheets with her Resident Assistant.

Back in my hotel room, I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror. Remember how when Andrea lost her virginity, she asked Brandon if she looked different? [Sorry, another Beverly Hills 90210 reference.] Or in Judy Blume books, when girls get their periods they look in the mirror and wonder if they look different? This was me at 7:30 a.m.: 33 years old and after aching for sex for so long, I’d finally gotten it. Did I look different? Well, I looked like a hot mess, that was for damn sure, but other than my explosive hair and streaky makeup, I looked the same. The same woman who once had good sex with Max, then had zero sex with Max, and was variously rejected by Todd and the 26 Year Old, had finally gotten laid!

Um, now what?

I’ve been thinking about this a lot over the past week, which is part of why I’ve been holding out on you with this juicy tale (the other reason was that I had to tell Nora before I told the blogosphere). Now that I’ve finally had sex again, oddly, I kind of don’t care when I have it next. I don’t regret having sex with Cheater (even if it was hardly my classiest choice), I am still loving my off and on “friendship” with the 26 Year Old, and my vibrator is still rocking my world, so the sexual side of me is definitely not going dormant again. But maybe it’s best for me to hover at third base until I have a boyfriend again. I don’t need My Number going up and therefore risking getting an STD or something fun like that. Further, it would be nice to be able to have sex with a man and then want to sleep beside him afterward, and I am not quite ready for that yet.

By the way, Cheater called me on Monday. He turned me into his therapist again, still hemming and hawing over what to do about his girlfriend and telling me that he has never opened up to anyone like he has to me. I gave him more tough love. Then I told him he cannot be in contact with me as long as he has a girlfriend, but whenever I do see him through our mutual friends, he need not worry about me, his secret is safe. He was relieved that I can be discreet (other than telling YOU, dear readers!). Oh, and he asked, “I believe everything you said to me was true, but I have to ask… Was that really your first time having sex in three years?!” I said, “Yup, you can’t make that shit up!”

Six days after this phone call, I can now tell you with certainty that even if he breaks up with his girlfriend (and that's a big IF), I’m not interested. He is a sweet and fun guy and we had a great time together, but the last thing I need is a to date a guy I cannot trust and has a lot of relationship baggage. Unfortunately, he has both characteristics. Cheater, I wish you all the best!

It’s your turn. What was your first sex post-breakup like? Who was the person? Were you able to enjoy it? Any regrets?

See also: In Favor of Casual Sex.

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.

The Story of How He Proposed

Today is five years since Max proposed to me. Crazy, seems like it just happened. Just for posterity's sake, I consulted the blog I kept during my wedding planning (ironic, right?) and pulled the following piece of history, just for you.

You can't have a wedding without a proposal (though supposedly my dad never actually proposed to my mom, but that's a different story), so here's the e-mail I wrote to Stacey, Melanie, and Margo the morning after Max popped the question:

June 21, 2008

Hello my dear friends in Europe --
Well, since I can't call you guys, i have to tell you over e-mail.

Max and I broke up.

JUST KIDDING! We're getting married!!!!! Ahh!

He proposed to me last night in NYC and I said yes (obviously). Oh my gosh I can't believe I'm even writing this! :-D

I know you want the story, so I'll write it out for ya.

I suggested last week to make Friday night a date night because as usual, I have a ton of plans the next few weeks, so I wanted some quality time with max. So on wednesday, he starts making suggestions, like cooking me dinner, maybe taking a picnic to my favorite park, etc. Then Thursday night, I'd nodded off on the couch and he wakes me up and tells me we're taking a 6:30 train on Friday, and everything else is a surprise.

As we're getting ready to go, max insisted on bringing a backpack to put jackets in. Hmm... a backpack... what else could be in there?! I admit to having moments of suspicion during the course of all this. :)

So we go into NYC and have a drink at Cipriani in Grand Central. Then we walked to a restaurant on the upper east side called Candle 79. Turns out it's supposed to be one of the best vegetarian restaurants in the city. Even better though -- it was all organic AND vegan! I was in heaven. Max said it was because whenever we go out to dinner, i have to scrounge the menu to find something to eat, so he wanted to take me somewhere that i had a whole menu of choices for me. At the end of the meal, he said the night wasn't over yet -- he had bought 2 tickets for the last elevator up to Top of the Rock in Rockefellar Center. we went there for my b'day a year and a half ago, and max said he wanted to take me at night -- he said "i know you love sparkly things, and the nyc skyline is the biggest sparkly thing i could think of." Now... i admit... i start to wonder again.

We go up to Top of the Rock and the views were of course gorgeous. Lightning came, which was very cool to watch, and people started to clear out. max seemed a little antsy about picking a spot to sit. Then his eyes were getting shifty, checking to see if people were around. He kept wanting to go outside, but the rain was starting. Finally he said to come outside... he had one more surprise. Yup, you guessed it -- he got down on one knee outside -- a little rain, a perfect view of the empire state building -- and pulled out the little box. I have attached a picture of us about 3 minutes after i said yes. :-D

I had said that i just wanted a proposal story that would be fun to tell people now, but cool to tell our kids. This is the perfect story!

lots of love,
Kat


P.S. My engagement ring sold on eBay almost exactly five years to the day after Max bought it for me.

P.P.S. If this isn't your first time reading my blog, you can guess that we did not have sex when we got home that night, or at all that weekend. Yes, I still remember that.

If you're divorced, how do you feel now when you think about the day you got engaged? Sad? Angry? Wistful? Indifferent? A messy mix?

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?