Mary B and the City

How Mary Got Her Groove Back.

Over the last week I’ve spent an extraordinary amount of time thinking through, analyzing, fact-finding, and internalizing the façade that was my former faux relationship. I even lost sleep for the first several days, waking up at all hours of the night, with the inconceivable deception weighing heavily on my mind. What I ultimately netted out was that I’ll simply never truly understand what his motives were, why he wasted my time (again), and that trying to instill logic with someone who is a purebred narcissist is a lose-lose situation.

I have also received word from his camp of peers with both condolences and candid conversation, which made me feel better — knowing they genuinely weren’t aware of the double life he was leading. Like I’ve always believed, the truth comes out, eventually. But this time it came in the form of an explosive, fireworks show…not only compromising our final outcome as a couple, but even lying to his own entourage.

This next piece of news didn’t come as a surprise — but apparently he isn’t too happy with my recent blog postings. That insight isn’t anything new though, as he was never really happy with it. Although complimenting my writing skills and pushing me to make money off of it, he *hated* being a lead character [despite the fact I made him out to be a romantic rock star]. So I’m sure his sour taste still holds true, now more than ever. But the truth is — this is my life and my outlet. He is finally being held accountable for his own actions, period. Words are only words. His malicious actions will never hold a candle to my sticks & stones literary documentation that only mirrors truth.

With all of that said, I made a pact with myself at the inception of this shitstorm. I gave myself one full week to say whatever I wanted to say, do whatever I wanted to do, and allow myself to feel whatever emotions bubbled up. I didn’t have the mental or physical capacity to go to the gym, grocery store shop, prepare food, or any other regular routine that typically takes a lot of discipline. I’m usually pretty hard on myself as far as strictness goes but knew that being kind to my fragile Self was the best option (with parameters as to not completely fall off the health wagon).

Lastly, I realized that I do not need a textbook incubation period to “heal” or “be alone” post break-up. I did that over a year ago, and recently hit pause to see if him & I could ever really be…….and scene. So now I’m just hitting the play button and moving on with my life, again.

A lot more time on my hands over a 7-day grace period also allowed me to think through next steps [and by next steps I mean husband shopping]. Back in November I was undergoing an intense dating binge. Then, when Mr. Ex swooped back in early December… dangling the elusive marriage mirage in my face, bachelors were put on the backburner and indefinitely disposed of. There was no way I could focus on a legitimate reunion with the love of my life while half-ass dating unassuming and innocent boys. Well, there is one exception.

Quarterback, or QB for short, never left the sidelines. Although I fully disclosed my situation to him and was well-aware of the infamous ex-files, he strategically stuck around in a very discrete yet respectful way…sporadic text messages asking how I’m doing, a few emails here and there, coupled with several unplanned gym run-ins. He’d even cross my mind when not directly in sight, but I pushed those feelings way down to not complicate the already complicated circumstance I was knee-deep in. 

This is a guy who I dated for two months exactly 1 year ago, and briefly reconnected with during said dating binge in November. I can confidently say that if he hadn’t unknowingly been flanked by Mr. Ex, we’d probably still be hanging out today. I’d even go as far to say he likely would have surpassed all the other gents in the running at that time.

This was a huge ‘ah ha’ moment for me as I sat back and forecasted my future in the singles seat. Do I jump back into online dating [cringe]? Do I reach back out & reengage with the fellas from November? Do I simply do nothing and have faith that my lifelong partner will approach me in our mutual dentist office’s waiting room?

Or, do I get real with QB and give him the opportunity of a real chance? The guy has shown me more attention and affection than I know what to do with. Not to mention he could be Tay Diggs’ body double for goodness sake.

This decision is a not only a no brainer, but what I like to call a win-win situation.

Cougars, uncovered?

One of my favorite web sites to gush over fluff but nevertheless fabulous female fodder is thefrisky.com. During Thursday afternoon’s eat-at-my-desk-while-surfing-the-internet lunch session, a book review came across my screen — Marry Him: The Case for Settling for Mr. Good Enough. I finished the witty synopsis in record time, wiped up my drool of excitement, and penciled in a Barnes & Noble stop the following day. Not only was the primary argument controversial and subversive, but both the author and article reviewer managed to mention Sex & the City. Done and done.

I’m now on page 98 and don’t know whether to laugh or cry. There are still 200+ pages to go. It is basically a Dr. Phil-style, hardcore, in-your-face, scared-straight, whoop ass for aging women on the fast track to staying indefinitely single due to their own self-defeating choices that is based upon an assumption: no partner will ever be good enough. Now thankfully I’m in a relationship that is forecasted for a stable future, but if it doesn’t pan out, I’ll be back in the husband-finding field…fighting against boisterous 20-something competition. During my dating escapades over the last year, I saw for myself what a tiny pool of eligible men there are out there too. The picture is very grim. So let’s just say the premise of this book’s message not only has me acutely aware of the ticking clock that surrounds my uterus, but now my Mrs. eligibility age is at risk.

An honorary female friend of mine who is smart, gorgeous and has the whole package, and is also single, was a perfect candidate to co-read the published literature with me. A 1:1 book club if you will. You see, we’re two of the last few standing early 30’s women who haven’t been scooped up by a mister, yet. We both have our own stories (excuses) and reasons (failed relationships) and so the subject is a hot topic on a regular (daily) basis. Like a faithful companion, she secured her copy and we’re well on our way to dual labor of love enlightenment.

Mr. Big questioned my interest on the delicious topic(s) last night after I walked in with the ‘M word’ titled bright red book in-hand. “Are you sure it is…umm…healthy to spend this much time focused, even obsessed, with this?” I carefully and thoughtfully tried to explain that my curiosity on male/female dynamics has been and probably always will keep bookstores in business. Then informed him that besides obtaining a minor in Writing during college, I also earned one in Sociology. And concluded with the agree to disagree, “You should probably just accept it.”

While I simultaneously accept his enjoyment of video games to the likes of Madden, FIFA and some kind of human/alien war taking place in space, my hours snowed-in have been filled with fascinating stories and lessons on Settling. That word has such a horrible connotation, as it should, in theory. But what the author, Lori, dissects is how she went through her 20s, 30s and early 40s never thinking any guy was good enough. Which ultimately has left her alone, sad, and sans companionship. In short, her point is that our generation of females have set our Prince Charming standards so incredibly high (unattainable) that we’re missing a perfectly happy life with Mr. Good Enough.

That’s not to say we should “settle” for someone who doesn’t bring us happiness, but focusing more on subjective points (maturity, kindness, ability to commit) vs. objective points (age, height, how much hair he has, whether he has kids or an ex-wife).

Which leads me to my next point. While talking with a fellow early 30’s unattached fella, who will remain nameless, I questioned his stance on singlehood. Now mind you, this is right after hearing him retell his evening *hitting it* with a female. This seemingly cold, animal-like circumstance captured in conversation didn’t phase me, as I’m well aware how guys talk to each other regarding sex and hookups. But I had to ask, “So…are you single and sleeping around because you don’t want to be tied down, or is it because you just haven’t found the right girl?” His answer was firmly the latter. “I’d definitely be settled down [there is that S word again] if I found the right one…but girls these days are crazy.” I had to clarify, “What do you mean ‘these days’ — are they different now than before?” The busy bachelor explained, “Yes ladies have become more high maintenance today and you can’t make them happy.”

After chuckling a bit, I shared that the book’s subject I’ve had my nose in all afternoon preached a similar message. His next matter-of-fact statement hit me like a hangover, “Which is why we now have Cougars.”

Wow. Could it be true? Have women who simply never married because they wouldn’t curb over-exaggerated expectations in any way, shape or form, establish the infamous Cougar Club? This possible realization, and coupled fear of ever getting a membership invite, made my whiskers whimper.

This is only a test.

I’m a writer — it’s what I do. The scope of my biological makeup was designed to put pen on paper. When I learned to type in 7th grade, I remember being so frustrated because I’d type thoughts in my head. Literally, I’d have a vision in my mind of tapping on a keyboard what I was thinking. It drove me bonkers, but accidentally gave me an exceptionally high words per minute score from getting so much intangible practice!

A few people have told me they enjoy my written word storytelling, so I share it in a technologically savvy forum for people to click on, at their own discretion.

I birthed this blog almost two years ago. And what I’ve come to realize over that time frame is people who choose to read it, especially my inner circle, find themselves much more intimately involved in the crevices of my life than they would normally be. We all have our silent thoughts, inner dialogue, or even have written journals, but most don’t have an open window of their life splattered across the world wide web.

In doing so, I have unintentionally caused myself to do a lot more damage control among friends. “Why did I find out about XYZ from your blog?” Or they’ll take the fact I mentioned someone else in a posting, and equate that I somehow care less about them because they weren’t a featured cast member in my electronic musings. Or abuse the “commenting” feature, mistaking me for a character in a still frame, computer-generated movie and not a real person behind the text.

All of these consequences are worth handling and sorting through, than dissolving my passion in public. In fact, I kept my account private for a long time, for that very reason…controlling which eyes were exposed to MaryB’s backstage. But in order to take my rants mainstream and become a published author/writer/blogger, I had to break the lock on my digital diary.

With this most recent Mr. Big development, I’ve received an outpouring of varying responses. Some are happy, some are intrigued, some are anxious, some are angry. I fully realize my support system has good intentions — first and foremost, to protect me. I recognize that my living, breathing bubble wrap that are my comrades and family members have been through the roller coaster ride from start to finish. The depth of their care for me is almost like taking on a voo doo doll role and literally experiencing my pain. My gratitude and love for these people go beyond words.

And yet, at the same time, get frustrated when people find a way to make it about them. I make a conscience effort every single day to not judge other people and to be the kind of friend I’d want to have. And that includes showing respect for personal growth, learning lessons, and believing wholeheartedly that everything happens for a reason…even though it sometimes comes at the expense of battle wounds. I would never, ever tell someone else how to live their life, who I believe should be their spouse based on my own opinion, and certainly wouldn’t make someone’s personal turmoil about me.

A friend told me that I make calculated decisions and am always thorough in taking time to weigh options and next steps. Today is no different.

For a job, I had to read the book Now, Discover Your Strengths. And according to the lengthy survey, my number 1 strength is strategy. “The strategic theme enables you to sort through the clutter and find the best route. It is not a skill that can be taught. It is a distinctive way of thinking, a special perspective on the world at large. You evaluate accurately potential obstacles.” And just like this situation, potentially giving the love of my life another admission ticket to my heart, I’m not taking it lightly. In addition to my analytical side, my intuition is used as an antenna.

This is my life, my decision. Wrong or right, it’s mine.

This is not a fairy tale. This is not a movie. This is only a test. A test that I have to get through along with the guidance and help of God who I trust implicitly.