Feeling: happy
Listening to: the clock ticking, and my love sleeping
Reading/Watching: --

And now, the true entry for today.

There was a point in life where I thought I had earned years of solitude in penance for the horrible, horrible thing I did of leaving my husband. I settled in to it, embraced the concept of years of Casual Dating Hell, and vowed to get the experience I was lacking.

I actually looked forward to the opportunity to be lonely and depressed again, because it meant that maybe I'd take the time to make a better-informed decision next time around.

I met Sandman through a dating site, and intended to be casual. He decided to tell me he loved me after two weeks of dating. My intentions shifted, and in four months' time I had met his parents, and more importantly, his five-year-old daughter. And then he decided that this wasn't actually serious and it wasn't going to become a long-term thing, despite his statements in the previous two to four months.

I spun out, grieved, landed a killer role in a play, and decided to hell with men, I wanted to do the casual dating thing and just sort of run through them like paper plates for a while.

On February 19th, 2010 I went to a party at a bar before my typical Thursday night at the dance club, because this guy from the club (who would not stop hitting on me in a most condescending way) invited me out to have some free drinks beforehand. There were about seven people there; I knew two of them. I was pretty firmly bored, and went to the bathroom to give myself a minute to decide to give up and go home, or stick it out until it was time to go dancing.

When I came back, there was a pretty good-looking guy in my seat, with my purse at his feet. I shot him a sideways look and informed him that I wanted my chair back. He retorted with something clever. Piqued, I sat in an empty spot across from him and replied in the same vein. The teasing, sarcastic-insult war went on for the bulk of the evening. He was dry-witted, and quick with his answers, and intelligent enough that by the time we finished sparring, I was legitimately confused as to whether he hated me, or was flirting madly.

His name was Will, and he kept talking to the girl on my left instead of me, occasionally throwing a question my way. His eyes kept pulling me in, and he didn't shy away from topics much deeper than weather and the taste of beer. We started with music and movies, and then government and religion, and on from there.

Will was eventually peer-pressured by the group into joining us at the club, and decided to follow my car there. So we walked to his car, he opened my door, and drove me to my own vehicle.

By the time I climbed into my car, I knew that he was really cute, really interesting, and really complicated. He came across as prickly, a little glib and defensive, and I knew it would be better if we were just friends. I was more than a little baffled as to whether he was tolerating me or not.

By the time I climbed out of his car to get into mine, he knew that he wanted to marry me.

Will was just getting out of a serious relationship, so I gave him a wide berth at first, thinking he was just entertained by me, or maybe on the rebound, looking for a distraction. He called, we went out, he came to karaoke and dancing a few times, we were friends. Mostly, we teased each other mercilessly.

A few weeks later, he grabbed hold of me at the club (riding on dutch courage) and officially removed all doubt in my mind as to whether he was interested in me or not. On March 13th we became a couple, although he still insists on counting from the day he met me.

He got rid of his entanglements with his ex. He moved out of the place he had formerly shared with her. He went to Hometown, and we tried to work it out long-distance for a few miserable months. Eventually we gave in, acknowledged that this was serious, and now he lives with me in the house in Schoolville with Andante and Dolce. He likes Dolce best because she's the crazy one. She has become his canine slave, utterly devoted to him.

Last night, unbeknownst to me, Will went to my father and asked for his blessing to marry me, and Dad gave it.

When Will came back to our table at the wedding, where I was dreamily watching my cousin Marie dance with her new husband, he whispered in my ear what he had done, and I flipped out.

We had decided that we want to be together, that this is a big deal. We hadn't made anything official, public, or jewelry-based yet. We hadn't talked about the actual Parents' Blessing phase yet. That's why I flipped out. I wanted to give things a little more time to be established, time for him to meet everyone and for them to like him, time for the phase of comparisons to end, time for people to stop telling me it's too soon, that I shouldn't have moved on yet. I flipped out, and I ruined the triumph of the moment for him. My fear of what people think of me, of him, of us, actually ruined what was one of the happier moments of his life.

The double-standard is frustrating. People supported my decision to get divorced, they say they want to see me happy. They say I should definitely go out and date and have a good time and meet new people. But they're not ready for me to be in love yet. They're not ready for me to meet someone and know, yes, this is exactly what I was missing. They want to see me happy, but apparently not yet.

My ex-husband moved out (and started being creepy) on January 28, 2009. My divorce finalized on July 8, 2009. My name was officially, legally changed a few months later. By Christmas, every government and financial institution knew to change my last name on their records and mailings.

It's been over a year. Nearly two, since I knew that relationship was over. I have moved on, but I am actually still swayed by the fact that the rest of the world hasn't, and I regret that. So the time has come for me and the rest of the world to officially Get Over It.

How about you guys fill out a survey or something, and tell me how much longer you'd like me to be happy-but-not-too-happy, so as to prove that I have spent sufficient "time out" in the corner, thinking about what I have done. When that time period passes, then I will tell you that I've found the man I love, the man I need, and that we're going to be married someday. Until then, you're welcome to cover your ears and sing "la la la" to yourself, to distract you from the fact that I'm already there.

My not being Over It has been detrimental to what Will and I are building. I hereby vow to drop the guilt and hindsight and just enjoy the wonderful life I have now.

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