FAIL

Dear God, it's me, Shannon...

First, let me thank you for my life, my beautiful children, and all that I have...even this unbelievably sucky day week month past two years, which I'm sure is meant to teach me something, but I haven't exactly figured out what it is yet. (While we're on the subject...any idea when you'll be making your point? I know you're only supposed to be giving me as much as I can handle, but are you SURE you're not overestimating my ability to bounce?)

But seriously, I'm going to have to throw in the towel...I had nothing but the best intentions. I really did. But Easter is a long, long, loooooooong way off...and things sort of suck right now, pretty much in the general sense...and I really have no one to talk to the past couple of months--well, except for you and my journal...everyone is so busy and they have their own lives. A girl can only handle so much...but enough excuses. Let's not mince words. We're just going to call this what it is:

LENT FAIL.

I'm quitting, and I'm sorry. I rather hope, under the circumstances, that this will be overlooked...historically, my record is spotless. But I've given up enough this year...I'm learning to live without SO much already...and I'm certainly learning a lot about myself and my relationship with you in the process...and isn't that the point? I'm asking you to cut me some slack...I'd say "just this once," but come on, let's get real...you know me better than that...

Too Good to be True...

Last December, I met a guy…and he was easily the hottest guy who had ever asked for my number, so I gave it to him. After several giggly phone calls with this genuinely funny man, I agreed to meet him for dinner at a trendy little restaurant downtown that I suggested. When I got there, we ordered the same drink, and I smiled inwardly. Over the next hour and a half, we ate, talked, and watched snippets of the Thunder game on the TV near the bar. So far, so good...

We seemed to have a lot in common, although there were obvious differences, too…at first glance, and in many ways, I am very girl-next-door. Enough people have told me that I’m pretty that I’m starting to believe it, even if it took me a few decades. But I have a wild streak in me that not everyone gets to see…I have a few tattoos—I know, no big deal in today’s society—unless you don’t have any and the idea never even crossed your mind. The indie and alt-rock I listen to is not to everyone’s liking, I can drink most girls my size under a table, and I have been known to drop the f-bomb in casual conversation…okay, okay, I do that pretty much daily…but I’m still a Genuinely Nice Girl. I don’t hook up with random guys, I care about people’s feelings, and am one of the most loyal people you could ever meet, and I go to work, earn a paycheck, and support my kids.

S, on the other hand, was much more straight-laced than I am. First off, he’s ridiculously good-looking AND he’s a lawyer, so the fact that he was still single should’ve tipped me off that maybe something might be amiss. Although we were the same age, in the 90s, his feet were probably outfitted in Cole Haans while mine were in Doc Maartens. Some of his taste in music was good, but he was puzzled by some of the bands I loved…("I don’t know Incubus...funny name!") Hmmmm…okay…well, we were still having fun, and things were going well, so we moved on to a small bar a few blocks away. It was bowl season, and he was impressed that I actually understood football. That was the moment I knew I had him hooked, in spite of my “quirks.”

I don’t usually kiss guys on the first date…but after spending five and a half hours with my Hot Lawyer, when he leaned in, I didn’t protest.

I should have.

He instantly had his tongue so far down my throat that I had the immediate—and absurd—instinct to want to cry for help. His lips engulfed everything from the tip of my chin to the tip of my nose, and I feared drowning was inevitable if this went on much longer. I struggled in vain, and when he finally broke away, I literally GASPED for air.

I was crestfallen…the cutest guy I’d ever been out with was also the World’s Worst Kisser? What kind of cruel joke was this? In a daze, I climbed into my car, and consulted several girlfriends on the drive home. Is it possible to teach a 36-year-old man how to properly kiss a girl? The consensus? Not likely…but I was determined…so determined I dated him for another month and a half before I decided that they were indeed correct…which also gave me ample time to discover a few other less than desirable traits.

For example, he’s such a shitty tipper that I resorted to flagging our servers over when he was in the restroom and handing out extra cash. “He can’t help it!” I would whisper. “He’s never waited tables before!” A knowing smile would be exchanged, and I would get excellent service for the rest of the meal, while his glass remained largely neglected…once, when we were trying to decide where to eat, I told him I was in the mood for something different. “Oh, I know!” he exclaimed. “How about Ted’s?” It took everything I had not to get out of the car right then.

So what did I learn from S? Some things are, in fact, too good to be true…if your first kiss is bad, it may be a good idea to pack it in and wait for the next one.

Stars Align...

The other day, one of my best friends sent me a text. She was in the midst of  Sex and the City marathon on her day off, and it suddenly dawned on her that something "seemed very familiar." And then it hit her...Carrie was rather "Shannon-like...a loveable hot mess," which she quickly assured me she meant with great affection. "Her self narration is like a conversation with you!"

I don't earn Carrie's paycheck...I mean, let's face it, look where she lives...on a WEEKLY column for the New York Post? I don't think so...nor do I have her shoe collection...but I have her sass, a little style, and I'm gaining more and more insight into the intricacies of single life every day...but with an important twist. I have offspring to boot...

And then it dawned on me...where is the column representing ME? A busy, working, involved, loving, half-crazed single mom trying to relearn everything she thought she already knew? Well, after a quick collaboration with my favorite editor, the answer was obvious. The writer is right here. And the story is coming soon, so stay tuned...and to my dear Lisa, thank you for the inspiration!

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Where the f*** is my funny bone, anyway?

Where did it go? So my life got turned upside down...the old me would have found more humor in it...I miss her. But just when I think the funny girl is gone for good, she pops up unexpectedly...

She doesn't always learn from her mistakes...as evidenced by the decision to date L not just once, but twice...I mean, come ON! Like it didn't end badly enough the first time? Did I think maybe if we tried hard, we could actually top it?! Oh, and did we ever...what a f***ing mess...

The current boy is also a bit of a mess...as am I, of course. So who knows? At least we seem to be the same kind of mess, while L was a totally different type of screwed up. I am also dating more than one person, so that makes things extra interesting. But I also knew I liked this one the minute I met him...we just clicked in pretty much every way...mess and all.

Speaking of mess...I wish he would actually hit the toilet and stop peeing on the floor in front of it. Doesn't he realize only girls live here?!

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Lessons I'm Learning and Other Random Musings...

I can be free-spirited and adventurous...sometimes even a daredevil...but I didn't ask for THIS adventure, and it isn't nearly as much fun when someone else makes the decision for you.

I know myself well...I know what I like, and whom...if I tell you that it's YOU, how about you do us both a favor and just give me the benefit of the doubt?

I am not a coward...I don't run from the things that scare me...but that doesn't mean I don't want to. I'll tell you I'm not scared, but I'm probably lying...and if I start making smartass comments, you may as well consider me terrified.

I may be cautious by nature, but I've learned to roll with the punches...some punches are just more surprising than others. Just give me a chance to recover, and I'll be okay.

I follow directions well...it's why I can cook...but there is no instruction manual for this. I'm making it up as I go along, so please be patient and don't judge me.

I'm smarter than you might think. Don't underestimate me.

I'm loyal to a fault...I know because it's bitten me in the ass more than once. There are some people that you simply don't need in your life...it's okay to love them, it's okay to care...but do it from a distance and save yourself some grief.

I'm stronger than I look. Yes, I HAVE lost weight...probably too much, but I know it, so please back off. I'm not going to blow away. Yes, I'm tired...yes, I get frustrated. Yes, I make the wrong decisions sometimes. Yes, I know you're worried...but I'm the only one who knows what this feels like, so let me handle it in my own way and just be there when I need you.

He probably doesn't deserve me, and I know that...but I'm going to let him have me for awhile anyway. Running away because the timing and the circumstances aren't completely right is a cop-out. Sometimes you have to wait and see what happens, because if you don't, you'll always wonder.

I will give everyone I care about a second chance...but I almost never give a third.

Losing Myself...

This week I ran away...and it was one of the best things I've done for myself in awhile. I went by myself...I drove...A LOT. I needed to clear my head and get away. Between the packing and cleaning, finalizing the divorce, the headaches that come with buying and selling a house, and a couple of issues that cropped up with the two guys I've dated, I was so far past my breaking point, I couldn't even see it. So when Brian picked up the girls, I took a couple of days off work and took off...a few people know where I was, and that's the way I'll keep it...but I'm feeling better.

Not that things are perfect. My new house isn't going to close on Thursday, thanks to a glitch with the second appraisal that the lender is requiring. It was ordered late, and with the bank holiday on Monday, the odds of even being able to close on Friday are probably not awesome...so as of 4pm on Thursday, I am effectively homeless. That's a shitty feeling, but I am lucky to have a lot of people that love me and are willing to put me up for awhile. I'm praying for a Friday closing, because I'd like to take my girls HOME...last week, that news might have put me over the edge, but since my impromptu getaway, I can ALMOST take this setback in stride.

Thursday is a big day. We have the decree ready to go. We go to have it signed at 8:30, and it's finished. At 3:00, we close on our old house...and I know it will be liberating to close that book. It would be nice if I had a new book on hand, like I planned...but I'll manage. And I will be free as a bird, like I was when I ran away...

All Things New...

Well, it's a New Year, and I'm not too sure about it yet...that happiness of which I spoke? Kind of fleeting, really...I guess that's the way it's going to be for awhile. Not that there aren't things to be happy about, mind you...for example, we sold our house in record time, after only 2 weeks on the market. I have a contract on a beautiful little house of my own, and am hopefully moving in next week. But there is much still up in the air with the divorce decree being finalized and the closing happening on time, and I probably won't know for sure whether or not it will work out until the day before closing...pretty frustrating stuff. Makes for a lot less sleep, that's for sure, and in someone who kind of sucks at sleeping as it is...well...it's been tough. And then there's the whole reality that if I screw this up, it's all on me. That's hard to take...explaining to the girls why we need to move, and how our budget is going to change a lot is no picnic, either, though they've taken everything in stride, just like they always do.

Oh, and N? That was Nick. He could be pretty selfish when push came to shove, and he hurt me. The worst part is, I bought it all, hook, line, and sinker. I know he was just a silly almost-boyfriend, and there will be others...but how do I overcome the loss of respect for myself? I know I needed to learn this lesson...but so soon after what I went through at the end, when I'm still dealing with the fallout of THAT nearly every day? It hardly seems fair...instead, it just seems like the mountain of shit I'm supposed to conquer just keeps getting taller and taller, and I'm not making ANY progress in climbing it...N taught me not to trust...or he reinforced it, anyway. Now I'm so afraid to open up and put myself out there, I'm starting to think I may as well just join a convent...

Little blessings have popped up in unexpected places, though. I realized some people are better friends than I ever imagined...and also a couple of people who maybe aren't as good as I thought. I am slowly but surely learning to be content with myself, just as I am...but am still secretly hoping that Mr. Darcy is out there waiting for me somewhere...Mark Darcy would be okay, too...since the others turned out to be more like Daniel Cleaver. I am trying to learn how to JUST BE STILL, like a good friend once told me. Just be still, and wait, and the answers will come.

That's all well and good, but could someone give me an idea of when I might expect them?

The H Word...

It's no secret that the past two years have been the hardest of my life...everything I knew has been turned upside down. I've been pretty quiet about most of it, because that's how I process things...but today is the first of December, and it's an eventful one at that. It seemed like a good time for an update of sorts, so bear with me while I stumble through this mess that is my life.

First, although I'm pretty sure I have yet to utter this sentence aloud, let alone commit it to writing, it's not exactly a secret. Brian and I are getting a divorce. While I've had some time to get used to the idea, it's still very strange on so many levels...I married B at 21 after dating him for three years. I have never had a Christmas on my own as an adult. I'm turning 35 this month, and I won't be getting a present from him for the first time since my 18th...I'm essentially having to redefine my whole life, and to some extent, I'm making it up as I go. Trying to figure out who I am in the singular tense has been hard...of course, I have the girls, so I only exist in the singular tense 12 nights per month.

The girls are doing well, and are adjusting to the changes far better than I am...we'll see if that holds true after we move. The house is on the market, effective today. I'm looking to buy in the same school district we're living in now, but this is a tall order in Edmond, at least in my price range. Hopefully it will work out...they've had enough changes, and I pray I can spare them this one.

My friends have been amazing, and I am so very blessed...but it's getting a little harder, with everyone busy for the holidays, and me considerably LESS busy than I usually am this time of year. Sometimes the house is too quiet. Last month, when I had an article deadline, I simply couldn't write it at home. I kept starting, and just wasn't getting anywhere. I ended up going to O's and sitting at the bar with my laptop. Nancy was great--she got me a glass of wine and left me alone, and I pounded the editorial out amid the background noise in less than two hours...this is the new normal.

I've dated a handful of guys, and that has defintiely been interesting...no one tells you the rules change so much over the course of 16 years, but they do...and it's not always fun. Marriage is infinitely harder, but dating is no damn picnic, either...it's not for the faint of heart. And you know what? I am utterly terrified of being hurt again. I'm already a little broken, so why would I want to open myself up to the possibility of being shattered beyond repair?

Because it's what you do. Life doesn't come with a guarantee. Which brings me to my other bit of news...I'm seeing someone, and it's going really well. For now, we can just call him N...if it gets more serious, I'll give him the rest of his name. We've been dating for a couple of months, and I love hanging out with him...he's sarcastic and funny, and he makes me laugh all the time. I have a few years on him, and he likes to tease me about it sometimes, but it doesn't really bother either one of us. He's smarter than I am, and as such, I get away with next to nothing, but it's fun to be kept on my toes. But I think I just said the keyword here...fun. He's a lot of fun, which makes him exactly what I need right now. I have a great time with him, and he's a great guy, and he makes me happy...

That's right. Happy. My first Christmas on my own, my first birthday as an adult without a husband, my house on the market, my world turned on its side...it's taken awhile, but I can say it now. I'm happy. I'm on my own...and I'm doing just fine, so bring on the holidays. I can take it.

Looking for a Light...

Sometimes, a blessing comes when you least expect it. When things can't get worse, when it seems like nothing could ever be right again, when you can't get your head above water...there it is. Today I saw it happen to a friend, and I got to smile at his good fortune. Sometimes good things just happen to good people. And even if you're still in the dark, some of that light is going to shine on you, too. At least, I hope so! Cheers!

Silly Girls...

Everyone is asking how the girls are faring, and I'm happy to report that they're doing very well. In fact, in many ways, they haven't missed a beat. It's taken me a lot longer to adjust to having them gone more than it has them...and they are right back to being their formerly feisty, funny selves.

Last week, I caught Sara singing "It's Raining Men" to herself while she was doing her homework...and she knows every word. This afternoon when she got home from school, she came in, dropped her bag, and announced, "I'm feeling a little stressed out this afternoon. I think I'm just going to spend the next hour relaxing on the couch." Roger that...second grade can be very stressful, indeed.

Emily is VERY caught up in the state of being known as Middle School Girl. For those of you who are unfamiliar with this phenomenon, let me fill you in on exactly what it entails:

1) They are only 11, but they want to be 17.
2) They make an attempt to act like they're 17, but they're really 11- and 12-year-olds...and it's obvious.
3) If you give them a cell phone, they may be inclined to TEXT you from across the table at a restaurant instead of speaking to you in public.
4) Justin Bieber.

That sweet little girl you raised? She's gone on a very long hiatus. You can hope that she will visit from time to time, but in the meantime, in her place you may find a very tall, slightly awkward person with boobs who resembles her. This girl knows everything there is to know about the universe, so there is no need to offer her your opinion about anything. (If you do, she will find it ridiculous and will immediately begin texting her friends about your childish notions.) On the occasions when she actually ASKS for your opinion, use caution, as it may take on the following form:

Emily:  Mom, the guy with the locker next to mine won't stop hitting on me, and I'm not into him. What do I do?"

Me: Ummmmmmmm......errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.....what???

In this situation, when you are rendered ridiculous, it is actually true...let the exasperated texting begin...

Lost and Found

I haven't been writing, because I am not particularly funny, and I'm guessing those of you that come here are looking for funny. Funny girls don't get left behind...not them, or the pretty ones, either, right? Wrong! Sometimes they do...and suddenly life is unrecognizable. Don't get me wrong, it's going to be okay. I'm not exactly afraid to be on my own...I know I'm capable of it, and I know I'm strong enough for it, especially with my beautiful girls to keep me on my toes and my amazing friends loving on me...but it's intimidating. Not only was my last first date in 1995, but neither Mad Men nor True Blood returns until 2012!! What am I going to do with all that time, nearly half of which I'll be spending alone?!  Probably NOT being very funny for awhile...maybe this would be a good time to take a stab at technical writing...

So bear with me, folks, while I try to find my smile again...I promise it'll come. In the meantime, if I could borrow yours, that will help me get by...

Thursday Night Sorrow (Ode to Lee)

I don't know how many people out there are still reading me...judging from the recent lack of commentary, I'm guessing not very many...but to whomever IS out there, bear with me today, because I'm feeling a little bit broken-hearted and sentimental.

For the past couple of years, Thursday nights have been Girls' Night Out with some of my close friends. Not every week...but every other Thursday or so, a handful of us thirtysomethings (and sometimes Krystal) would line up at the bar at Othello's around 8:30 or 9 and close the place down with our trusted and much-beloved bartender, Lee. We drink wine and share appetizers and catch up with each other, often discussing our kids and relationships and what's happening in the world. Sometimes there are just 2 or 3 of us, usually 5 or 6, though we've had as many as a dozen. However many we numbered, Lee was always waiting for us with a smile, and he knew to put our water in cognac glasses to make it pretty. He always put extra cherries in my club special and knew how I liked my pizza. When our wine glasses approached empty, he would quietly appear in front of us, raising an eyebrow in question. With a nod or a shake of the head, he would refill the glass or bring coffee, without making us so much as pause in our conversation. We flirted shamelessly with him, both individually and en masse, and he would smile and blush, which made us laugh...but he always took our teasing in stride. Sometimes he flirted back, but he was always careful to toe the line and remain appropriate--at least reasonably so. He didn't talk much, and what little we knew about him, we had to drag out of him, but every once in awhile he would open up and throw his two cents into our chatter. Best of all, when our husbands or boyfriends would show up at our sides, he would treat them like old friends, but never uttered a word about our sometimes personal Thursday Girl talk. I can honestly say, he understood what was sacred.

Today, I found out our Lee is moving on, and I know I'm not alone in my sadness. He tended to us well, and will be sorely missed by us all. Thursday nights won't ever be quite the same!