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Okay! I admit it.
I'm a "single again"
guy and I'm no where near as good as she was when it comes to some of those
every day kind of things.
After two years of being separated, another year of going
through the divorce process, and one more
year of being legally and formally divorced, there are some things that
I will never do as good as she
did.
For example, I just folded a fitted sheet. That's
something I have done once a week for four years now. I never folded
one previous to the break-up of our
marriage.
Now I do. Well, not really. I mean, they are impossible. I've
tried to do it this way and then I've tried it that way. She always
folded them perfectly. You could hardly tell the fitted sheet from
the regular one in each set lying on the shelf with the rest of the sheets.
As for me, mine always look like some kind of discontroted mess.
There's more.
When she washed the towels, they always came out soft
and plush feeling. Since I've been single again, my towels always
come out feeling like a cross between a piece of cardboard and a piece
of burlap. Granted, I didn't discover fabric softener until a year
or so after our separation but I still can't get my towels to feel as soft
as those that we shared when still married. Now, it might be possible
that, since I tend to buy cheap towels, it is impossible to get them to
come out of the dryer nice and soft and plushy feeling. Anyhow, that's
my best excuse and I'm sticking to it!
Then there is the matter of the activities that occur
in the kitchen. Truth be told, if it wasn't for Lean Quisine, Healthy
Choice, and Mrs. Stouffer, I'd starve to death. However, in my defence,
thanks to my first post-separation girlfriend, I do know how to cook up
a wonderful mushroom spaghetti dinner. Also, what man doesn't know
how to fry, broil, or barbecue a good steak on the weekend? Oh, one
more thing, I have a genuine hand-beaten wok from China and, ladies, can
I stir fry or what? In fact, I even have a two-place china setting
for those times when a lady comes to visit me the first time. My
stir
frying is terrific. Otherwise, the truth is that I couldn't cook
my way out of a paper bag. After all, how many times in a week or
a month does one want to eat mushroom spaghetti, a medium-well steak, or
pork stir fry? Mrs. Stouffer continues to be my best girlfriend when
it comes to dinner time. |
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The kitchen is never quite as clean as it was when she and I
were together.
The bathroom is not as sterile.
The furniture stays dusty longer.
I don't iron my shirts quite as nicely.
When something needs sewing, I either throw it away or
ask whichever lady I am currently dating to mend it for me.
Then, of course, there is the matter of physical intimacy.
Truth be told, it's not anywhere as regular or often as before. As
a man who lives alone and dates here and there, the issue of female availability
is definitely an issue. Now, it's more like sailing across an ocean
in a row boat while jumping from island to island. Come on.
You know exactly what I mean!
Although I hate to admit it, I'll never, ever be as good
as she was at all of these thing nor do I enjoy the convenience of having
her around to do them for me.
I'm single again. |
So, how do I cope?
The fact is that I now have my own place.
It is all mine. From the decorations on my furniture to the wall-hangings;
from the way my kitchen is set up to the choice of what kind of beadspread
I have; from the furniture that fills each room to the way I organize my
closet--it's all me. As self-centered as that might sound, the fact
is that for thirty-plus years I happily met her half-way regarding all
of these things. In fact, I spent my entire adult life up to that
point sharing everything with her. If I had a model car displayed
on the entertainment center, her plants were there as well. If my
bedroom dresser was covered with guy stuff, her's was covered with girl
stuff. The medicine cabinet was a combination of both.
Perhaps, we married too young. I had just turned
twenty the day before the wedding ceremony.
Maybe it was the fact that we were absolutely committed
and devoted to each other at the beginning.
Whatever was the motivation to merge our lives together and share in all
things, it got lost somewhere along the way. We lost each other,
too. In fact, we lost ourselves in each other. It might sound
romantic
to do so. Hindsight has taught me that the only way to continue building
a strong, loving, caring relationship is to maintain one's own sense of
individuality; to maintain spaces where I am me and she is her. We
did that to some degree but it was not enough. Instead, we were so
"one" that neither of us could find ourselves again, let alone each other. |
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The bottom line is that I am happy.
Despite the comment from a mutual friend those four years ago
when we separated that I will never be happy without her, I am indeed happy.
Perhaps, for the first time in my adult life.
As I compose this article, I am able to look around my
living quarters and rejoice in my own individuality. It is neat,
clean, organized, well furnished, nicely decorated, and speaks of someone
who enjoys a quality lifestyle. It's me.
Would I be willing to blend it together into a primary
relationship with another woman whom I come to love?
Absolutely?
The issue here is not self-centeredness but the freedom
to be who I am within myself.
My long-term marriage
sucked me dry of my own individuality. The purpose for my life was
to please others and gain their acceptance and approval.
The new "me" would never allow that to happen again.
I've grown. I've matured. I've evolved.
The fitted sheets will never fold as nicely as when
she did them. The bath towels will never feels so soft. I'll
never be the cook that she was in the kitchen.
The point is that these things do not a loving,
caring relationship make.
A truly strong and loving relatinship allows two
people to retain their own individuality while complimenting each other
in the doing of it. Two become one but the two are still one-- within
themselves.
I lost myself for over thirty years.
I've found myself again.
I'm going to be better than ever for the next lady who
accepts me for who I am.
I am a man.
Even more so, I simply "am." |
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© all rights reserved - 3/9/2003-----
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