Posted by Kimberly on May 31st, 2008 — Posted in Just Like Riding A Bicycle, Facebook Guy, The Man I Didn't Marry
I have to confess, even though I’ve made it clear all along that my relationship with The Man I Didn’t Marry is not some sort of romantic comedy in which, after a decade and a whole lot of life experience, our favourite couple finally manages to get over themselves and figure things out, I did sort of think that this year’s unniversary would be a bit different than usual. For the first time since the year we didn’t get married after all (1997, for those of you playing our at home game), The Man and I are back in each other’s lives. Heck, we’ve been dating. So, I guess I figured maybe we’d hang out or something…You know, mark the occasion of our non-occasion with a couple of drinks and maybe some laughs.
Is that weird?
OK, I admit it. I was totally thinking that we’d go out to dinner, have a nice evening, and maybe toast the end of an era of estrangement and a friendship reborn. Until I logged on to my Facebook and saw this in my newsfeed, that is:
The Man You Didn’t Marry is in a relationship with Someone Who Is Not You.
Um..What?
True, we were just dating. And I’m really not looking to be in a relationship with anyone, let alone The Man I Didn’t Marry Who Just Got Out Of A Rebound Marriage But Whose Divorce Isn’t Even Final Yet. But….
What???
It’s not the fact that he’s “in a relationship” that bothers me. It’s not even that he was apparently dating her and who knows who else at the same time he was dating me (I honestly would not have cared; I mean, it’s not like I haven’t seen Facebook Guy a time or two.) It’s not even the fact that my big unniversary plan is now kaput and I’m back to spending the day alone. What bothers me is that I found out about it through a FACEBOOK NEWSFEED.
Ouch.
Yes, ok, fine. I did, once upon a time, practically leave him at the altar. And yes, I pretty much blindsided him in doing so. And no, I didn’t have a better articulated reason than, “I think I’ve made a mistake and even though I love you, I don’t want to marry you.” (In my defense, I DID give back the ring. And I still think I was right.) But that’s not the point here–All that was eleven years, four kids, two careers, and a failed marriage ago. The point here is that in spite of that ancient history, I think that at the very least I deserved to hear the big news from an email, not a Facebook Update.
None of which changes the fact that apparently The Man I Didn’t Marry and I have come full circle after all. But you know what? I think I’m ok with that part of things. I think that’s the way it’s supposed to be.
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Posted by Kimberly on November 30th, 2007 — Posted in The Ladies, Just Like Riding A Bicycle, Facebook Guy, The Man I Didn't Marry, NaBloPoMo
I have not one, not two, but three invitations for tonight. Both Facebook Guy and The Man I Didn’t Marry have asked what I’m up to, indicating that they’d be willing to fill any holes in my social calendar. Plus, an old “friend” from school will be in town and wants to take me out to dinner. At a restaurant that doesn’t provide crayons for the patrons. Tempting…
I’ve never been in a situation like this before, so many desirable men all desiring to spend time with me. It’s a pretty heady ego boost, let me tell you. But what’s a girl to do when there are so many choices, but she doesn’t want to choose?
Luckily, I won’t have to make any hard decisions this time; I’ve already got plans. Plans that don’t involve great ass jeans, hair drama, or fancy underwear. Tonight I have a date with The Ladies.
There was a time not too long ago when the idea of another Friday night spent with pizza, pajamas, and picture books seemed like just one more tick on the wall marking time in a life sentence of boredom. But that was before I had options. Somehow, when it’s a choice to stay home, rather than an inevitability, the idea becomes much more appealing. All of my other offers for tonight were tempting in their own ways, but none of them held quite the same allure of curling up on the couch to watch Christmas specials with a daughter on each side of me and bowl of popcorn in the middle.
This is the hidden perk of dating, and one that I just recently realized. I’ve long been a proponent of “me” time. I truly believe that if we don’t get some time away from our kids sometimes that we’re actually doing them a disservice, burning ourselves out in the name of some sort of ridiculously unattainable holy grail of maternal martyrdom. So, last week’s date with myself wasn’t really that far outside the norm.
Much though I enjoyed the opportunity to reconnect with me, though, it’s a fundamentally different experience than connecting with another adult. I’m honestly surprised by how much I’m enjoying that connection (oh, get your minds out of the gutters people! And keep the gutters out of the comments, mkay? My Mom reads here.) I don’t have to put any effort into dating myself. In fact, I’m a pretty bad date for myself–no makeup, comfy jeans, often times more focussed on taking the opportunity to finally scrub the kitchen floor or tackle the toilet without “help” than in participating in a scintillating, mentally stimulating evening. But with another person, that excitement is there. That sense of possibility that leads me to try out new lipstick colours and take the out the hairband. To move beyond myself into new areas interest and fresh topics of conversation. Dating someone else forces you outside of yourself; it’s exhilarating and exciting and the best part is, that feeling spills over into real life, making that time that you do spend engaged in every day drudgery just a little bit more exciting.
My routine Friday night isn’t quite so routine anymore. I now know that just because I’m spending tonight in momsville doesn’t mean that I’m destined to spend all of my nights there and that makes it so much easier to embrace this life, to curl up on the couch with the remote and the bickering over the popcorn and just let everything else go for a night. There’s always next weekend, after all.
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Posted by Kimberly on October 24th, 2007 — Posted in Just Like Riding A Bicycle, Facebook Guy
Trying to make plans with Facebook Guy can be maddening. Witness the following exchange as I try to ask him to lunch:
Kimberly: oh, hey! Are you free for lunch on Wednesay? (note how smooth I am with the “Oh hey!” Like it just popped into my head or something)
Facebook Guy: Sure am. (That’s it. Just a “yes.” Which, ok, it was a yes or no question. But seriously!)
K: Are you interested? (I probably should have just taken Yes as “let’s make plans,” but I was fishing for compliments, ok? Sue me.)
FBG: Who wouldn’t be interested in lunch? Its my favourite middle meal of the day (Clearly, Facebook Guy isn’t biting. He is baiting, though)
K: lunch with me? (Yes, I am a shameless hussy. But at this point I wanted to see exactly how far he’d take this.)
FBG: sure, if you’re free 
(yep, he took it that far. I thought about saying, “actually, I have plans that day,” But I think we’re dysfunctional enough as it is. Plus, I really wanted to go out for a Wally Burger–peanut butter and bacon on a burger. Yum)
And after all that, we went Dutch. Yes, I know I asked him out and then made him pay; it wasn’t intentional, it was just that I didn’t look at my bank account until after I issued the invitation. I never claimed to be good at this dating stuff, remember.
Still no definitive word on whether or not it was a date, but he was late getting back to work and he initiated the goodbye hug, so that’s progress, right?
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Posted by Kimberly on October 16th, 2007 — Posted in Just Like Riding A Bicycle, Facebook Guy
I still haven’t mastered this whole dating thing. If what I’m doing is, in fact, dating. Which I question, since I’m still not sure that what Facebook Guy and I have been doing actually counts as going out on dates.
What are the rules for dating when you’re a grownup, anyway? It was pretty simple when we were all teenagers. Back then, dating was a lot like pornography; we may not have been able to define it, but we sure knew it when we saw it. Now that we’re grownups, though, the rules just seem so much more complicated, while remaining unspoken.
First there’s the coffee situation. As Willow so astutely pointed out in Reptile Boy, “It’s the non-relationship drink of choice. It’s not a date, it’s a caffeinated beverage.” A very high pressure caffeinated beverage. Everybody knows that coffee isn’t a date, it’s an audition. A predate, if you will. If the coffee goes well, you move on to the actual dating; however, if you find yourself draining that mug the way a trapped fox will gnaw off its hind leg, you’ve got the perfect out. No harm, no foul. After all, it was just coffee.
And then there’s the movie, a classic date scenario. Unless, of course, you’re going dutch. Which can under some circumstances still be considered a date, but it should never be assumed. But what if you share popcorn? Or if the tickets were free? Is it still considered going dutch? Even if it’s not, is it a date?
What if there’s a movie and coffee? Do they cancel each other out? Or is there some sort of magical dating equivalent of the two negatives make a positive rule that states that two non-events create a date?
The clincher, of course, is the kissing. If there’s kissing at the end, the evening is definitely ending as a date regardless of how it began. But what if there’s no kissing? Does that automatically mean it’s merely an outing? Does there have to be kissing for it to be a date?
It’s all so complicated. Was it always this way? Is this why I didn’t date much in high school? Preferring to just get on with it over all this pussyfooting around? I’m not sure. What I do know is that managing the dating scene as a teenage babysitter was cake compared to navigating it with a teenage babysitter.
All of this is a pretty roundabout way to tell you that I went out for coffee and a movie with Facebook Guy last night, and I’m still not sure if it was a date or an outing. I do know that I had such a good time that I was shocked to look at the clock discover that we’d exceeded the Tim Horton’s time limit, not to mention my mommy curfew, by a good 2 hours.
Pelting home at midnight, hellbent for leather and racing the clock, I didn’t feel like a naughty teenager, though. I felt like Cinderella. And she was definitely on a date, right?
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