Is Looking Cheating? The Singles Sites

I joined Match about 4 years ago. That was sort of inappropriate because I was in my seventh year of a relationship. 

I had been sick for a long time and He had taken care of me through crushing illness and brain fog. He moved me in and fed me. He rented movies and made me laugh.

Sure there were moments when he lost it. One time he said "I wish you would just die."  There is a lot I don't remember from that time period, but you don't forget words like those.

When I finally remembered pulling a "bug" out of my leg before my illness, we had my diagnosis; Lyme Disease. He took me to the hospital for installation of the "stent?" that would (hopefully) blast the hell out of the Lyme bastards.

I started to recover somewhat after IV treatments. Somewhat. Mostly, they blew the cobwebs out of my brain. I felt like Rip Van Winkle.  I woke to find a few years had passed and my body was a mess. I was incredibly soft and weak.

I woke to find my beautiful, smart, funny boyfriend had turned into a monster.

Abusers are interesting people; they can make you feel like you're going crazy. They wear you down and tear you up from the inside. They'll criticize your appearance and follow up by preparing calorie packed meals "for you" as an apology. They'll make sure the refrigerator is stocked with your favorite desserts. They'll criticize other things about you in order to send you to food for solace.

They set you up to fail. They gain weight too, but it doesn't matter because he or she is in charge.

I remember the week I joined match. It started with a Sunday in Cape Coral, Florida. Sunday was boating day with friends. Boating was all about drinking, which flipped his personality and always resulted in emotional violence; yeah, and fear. I feared for my life.

Sober he was a master boatsman ... drunk, he was oblivious. Deliberate even. I remember one time he seriously injured a passenger by hitting a wake HARD at the wrong angle. His reaction was frightening; there was no remorse - just dark satisfaction.

I was having recurring "drowning" dreams and I didn't need Freud to know they were inspired by a physically and emotionally dangerous relationship.

He was packing the cooler to go - a ritual. He really wanted me to go that day for some reason. I was embarrassed by how fat I was. It was hard to tell him the truth - I didn't want to go until I lost some weight. He patted his Buddha belly and said "I'm no skinny minnie either, don't worry about it."  So I threw on a black swimsuit with shorts for a cover-up and went along.

We were with a friend I liked and respected - and his date, who I really didn't know. I remember that she was very smart. I cared about what she thought of me.

Boating ensued. Beer ensued. Down the Calloosahatchee River, through the miserable mile and left through the Sanibel Causeway. We got to Fort Myers beach and anchored in the smooth white sand near Lani Kai.

By the time we got to shore, we'd both had too much to drink. I called him on his constant rage and he called me a cow.

I walked away. I waded back out to the boat and waited for everyone else. I was stone silent on the trip back and then again, at the house. The friend was no stranger to my ex's abusive ways, he had seen it all before. He put a hand on my shoulder to comfort me as they left.

I flipped my laptop open and caught my reflection in the monitor. I had been crying. Who was this tragic old woman? I thought "this man is killing me."

I was 56 years old. Fat, sick and weak. Dependent on a man who victimized me. A total loser.

The match ads were everywhere. I went in to see the faces and read the stories. There was comfort in it. There were other single people out there - my age. Skinny, fit and fat. You could tell from the descriptions they'd been through hard times like mine.

What is that line in Broadcast News? Something like "Wouldn't the world be a wonderful place if insecurity and self doubt made us more attractive?" It didn't add to their appeal, but it made me realize I wasn't alone.

I joined with what little money I had. I posted a photo that looks much older than I look now. It's amazing what being true to yourself can do.

Some men expressed interest and I had my first taste of having something left to offer. I got my hope back. It helped give me the balls to leave. Not right away, but eventually. I could most certainly do better than him.
In fact, alone but free to find the right person was absolutely the way to go. I'm still looking and I've been hurt along the way, but I don't regret leaving for a second.

When is it ok to look? Probably whenever you're sad. Married, separated, divorcing or single. I don't believe in acting on it. I believe in ending whatever you have and mourning that loss so you don't carry the baggage with you to the next relationship.

If you're in an abusive relationship, please consider buying "The Emotionally Abusive Relationship". It helped me sort it all out.

Most important are her worksheets. One has you make a list of the strengths and weaknesses of the parent who had the most influence in your life. Then you compare those strengths and weaknesses to your abusive partner.

And have your epiphany. That's where I found mine.

***

I am currently on two singles sites. 

Plentyoffish.com is free - but you get what you pay for. I don't take anyone I meet there seriously. In fact, my last contact - who seemed bright and honorable - turned into a cyberstalker.

Match seems to hold the most potential. I met someone I really like this week, someone who seems to believe as I do. Maybe I have a friend I can relate to. Maybe more. Maybe he will be nothing but a blip on my radar - someone to fill my fantasies for a short time.

No harm done. Fantasy is good ... sort of a subset of HOPE.

I don't think any of us want to be alone.

Be honest in filling out their forms so you'll have a real chance at a decent match. I live among the conservative right but I describe myself as I am - liberal. It limits my prospects, but it also spares me potential grief down the line.

When browsing these sites, be mega-aware of old photos and remember that descriptions usually represent people as they THINK they are. Self awareness seems to be a rare quality; honesty even more so.

Don't give your heart (or anything else) too quickly.

NOTE: I've tried eHarmony; it's the high fructose corn syrup of social connections - sicky sweet, so automated you'll be linked to anyone with a pulse; and even if there is someone interesting, their processes prevent meaningful communication. I think it's a waste of time and money.

Whatever you do - if you're sad and lonely with or without a relationship, don't just sit there.

Do something about it.

The Safe Place

Sunset from my bedroom window, January, 2010.

It’s about 65 degrees outside. The sun is shining, the palms are making swishy noises in the breeze and the squirrels are up in the trees chattering like apes. I am off a sleepless night after IMing my goose farmer friend. She is one of two friends on this planet I trust enough to tell anything.

I will start at the beginning. That's usually the best place.

I was with my singles group before New Year’s. I am lonely. I never meet anyone. And if I do, there is no click, no spark. Not since … well, he knows who he is and he will read this.

Someone was talking to a blonde member of my group that night. I was lonely in the crowd, trying to hide my despair by forcing myself to flit from person to person, working at being social and involved. It was a stretch.

I heard a voice high above me say “don’t you ever LAND? You are a social butterfly.” And I thought “well, I have one person fooled.” And I looked up from a geeky plaid elbow and I got that open-mouthed, OMIGOD HE’S SO CUTE ball of discomfort in the pit of my stomach. It doesn’t matter whether you’re 15 or 59, that feeling never changes.

To make a long story short - every remark was a direct hit, like it was scripted. Brilliant, writer, been here three years, dabbling in Buddhism … well, the writer thing concerned me because we are all weird as hell. And then came the name. “Randy.” The discomfort in my stomach became sick queasiness. The name always does that. I shrugged it off.

We exchanged cards and agreed we would both love to go out. I had company coming for five days, we would meet after my company left.

I emailed The Goose Lady later that night and said “and worst of all his name is Randy.” Because Randy is the one man on this planet who tore me up and made me question everything about myself. He nearly destroyed me. And I have trouble getting past it. The surgery is complete but the wounds have not healed fully.

I heard from New Randy the next day. No big deal, an excuse to get in touch right away. Which I love, which is so thoughtful, so NOT game playing. And the next day I get an email from the member of my group, the blonde he was talking to before we connected.

She has “Randy” in the subject line of the email. My heart stops.

She writes that she knows I was talking to him, but he had invited her to listen to guitar music somewhere and did I mind. I was instantly jealous and immediately ashamed of myself. I wrote back that he was a sweetheart and that she should go. That I had no hold on him but if/when he asked, I WOULD go out with him! What refreshing honesty, I was so proud of myself. Acting like a grown-up, dontcha know.

The morning my company left, I got a call from New Randy. We would be going out the next evening to a nice dinner. I was beyond excited. The date was awkward but fun, he spoke in multiple syllables (so refreshing) and the attraction in the parking lot afterwards was … wow.

I am ashamed to say, when I got home the first thing I did was go upstairs to my bedroom, slip into something comfortable and - yeah, google him. To my dismay, he has more google references than me! Then, on a whim, I decided to google myself. Which feels dirty and nasty somehow.

And what turns up? Me on the Yahoo “End Verbal Abuse board” from April 10, 2007. The night after Old Randy threw me out of his house lock stock and Shih Tzu. The night I was afraid he was going to hurt me. I had never seen him like that. It was one of the darkest 24 hour periods in my life and reading my posts - especially this one - brings it back.

http://health.dir.groups.yahoo.com/group/End_Verbal_Abuse/message/43934

So I think to myself “if New Randy reads this, he won’t be interested in me because I’m damaged.” Then I tell myself "who am I kidding - we're all damanged." And I am more than a little upset that part of being a writer is being an emotional exhibitionist. And I wonder if it serves any purpose beyond just making you look like a fool.

I wonder if there’s any way I can go back in there and delete those posts, but … well, everything happens for a reason I guess. Even stuff we feel stupid about.

And it turns out I needn’t have worried about New Randy because we are strictly buddy material. His demons are bigger than mine. In a shared space, we'd probably make a whole 'nother dimension explode.

That was weeks ago. I emailed New Randy yesterday because I needed to learn more about a specific type of writing. He recommended a book. I wrote the name on a sticky, put it in my jeans - and, naturally, changed jeans before I went to Barnes & Noble. Well, whatever, I found an alternate book, met a friend, drank the good Starbucks and came home.

I turned the light off around midnight. The dogs were curled up on the bed snug as a bug in a rug. It’s weird to need three quilts here, but it feels wonderful. And damned if I don’t pick up my Blackberry to see if I missed any emails.

And there in the subject line is “Randy.” My heart stopped. Only it wasn’t about NEW Randy.

“Hi there,

It matters not how I found you. What matters is what you shared almost 3 years ago about your experience with verbal abuse.

Well put my sister. I will consider your words every time I'm tempted to call. And the man you speak of is the man I've been in a relationship with for, well, I guess, more or less since you.

Thank you. It would seem that the Universe has intervened on my behalf. But, then again, it always does....

Kathy “

Shocked speechless, I forwarded her email to TGL, the one person who would understand my extreme emotions.  TGL IM’d within moments of my sending the response. She asked "did you notice he chose another woman who's as smart and sensitive as you?"

We IMd until 3:30 in the morning. By the end of it I was crying. For both of us.

She helped me sort out my pain. She is now caring for the mother who beat her as a child. We both agreed that somewhere somehow we want to be to blame for the shitty things the people we loved and trusted did to us. Because we’d rather believe it was something we did than believe they were ever that bad.

She thinks that’s weakness on our part. I don’t know. I think it may be extreme compassion.

We talked about when we were children. I don’t remember people because I was always painfully shy. She remembers watching them like a hawk because she was in constant danger of physical attack.

TGL is snowed in in her valley. Her life is sheer hell, from a dying mother and management of a farm with dogs and geese and ducks to her own poor health and what the cold weather is doing to her 20th century luxuries like mobility, heat, water and toilet. (All four have failed her and her mother in the past week. Her despair is palpable.)

We talked about feeling safe. I said “at least you know where you’ll be a year from now. I’ve started telling people I’m on vacation with my furniture because I never know when I'll run out of ways to pay for life here."

Where is the safe place? Chances are good we are either in that place where the big scary decisions sent us or that purgatory of not having the balls to leave something we KNOW is awful and face the unknown.

Sometimes when we let the world see our naked pain, we help other people.

TGL and I went to the darkest places in our souls until about 3:30 a.m. Then I turned on Celebrity Rehab so I could have one shot at feeling fortunate before I went to sleep. Yes God - Jumala - The Universe - I do thank you for my roof and my heat and my functioning toilets and healthy family and furry friends. Yeah, blessed. In a safe place right now and now is all there is.

The REAL safe place is that place in the soul that trusts a higher power or karma to prevent life from becoming unbearable. What is it they say in AA? Sometimes you have to Let Go and Let God.