Something I Haven’t Gotten Used To

“I’m single because I was born that way.” (Mae West)

One of my fears as a single woman is that I will eventually get used to being single. That I will forget how much I loved being married, that someday I’ll forget what at this point I still remember I’m missing, and instead, embrace my absolute freedom, abandon the dream of love and remarriage and remain alone the rest of my life.

I hope I don’t get too comfortable living the single life. In fact, I hope I never get used to it. I still believe in marriage and hope remarriage is in my future.

Another thing I haven’t gotten used to, and don’t know that I’ll ever get used to, is being single at singles functions; especially singles dances.

Let me share the experience for those blessed with marriage who may have missed out on the experience of a singles dance.

Every time I walk through the door I wonder how it is that I have come to be there. How my life is such that I am in the position to be qualified to attend. That the people there are my “peeps,” all of us thrown together by virtue of divorce, failed marriage, death or lost opportunities in love.

Not exactly the commonality I choose to embrace. I have to have more in common with people than that! But such is my lot. So occasionally, I dance to it.

Then I think, “I don’t belong here.” Quickly followed by, “Boy, there’s a lot of heartache in this room!” as I survey the sad scene and unique assortment of people gathered because they’re single and lonely. (At least I assume that’s why they go to those. It’s the only reason I have!)

Even entering the door causes me to cringe.

There I am, 42 years old, being greeted by married couple chaperones as I pay my $4 fee. They stamp my hand. (Crazy, but the hand stamp sort of makes me feel like a teenager again. That’s the last time I remember going to a dance and getting hand stamped–aside from going to Chuck E. Cheese with my children!)

I can’t help but notice the warning sign posted prominently at the entrance: All divorces MUST be final! (What isn’t posted, is that sometimes women are charged a higher admission fee than men. Bummer for single mothers who are the sole parent and support of their four children. But I guess they do it to encourage men to attend? Or maybe there is a shortage of men–even more depressing for a single woman.)

“What in the world am I doing here?” I wonder. I try to hide my mortification that this is one of my few group social opportunities. “Read the sign, Andrea, and then do what you came for: dance.” I tell myself.

“Let us read and let us dance – two amusements that will never do any harm to the world.” (Voltaire)

I guess.

I walk through the door and continue on into the unknown darkness of the dance floor. As I enter the dance space, I am struck by the unique collection of dance attendees. Sort of reminds me of my favorite See’s candy assortment: Nuts and Chews. An apt description, in many ways, of singles dances!

Here are a few I’ve seen.

*The following are REAL people (although names have not been used to protect their innocence–and because I don’t know their names!)

“Mr. Saturday Night Fever.” He’s 50-something, with a head of thinning, light brown hair, worn long and “feathered,” and looking like something right out of the 1970s!

“Don’t touch the hair!” (Saturday Night Fever)

And to every dance he wears his fitted, WHITE polyester pants, flared at the bottom–apparently all the better to bust those disco moves in! And what ensemble would be complete without ankle boots? Don’t worry, he’s got ‘em!

“Can you dig it? I knew that you could!” (Saturday Night Fever)

Miss Ballroom. She always wears heels and a dress and spends the evening on the fringes of the dance floor, dipping left and right, twirling and dancing with a purpose: to turn every song, from every decade and genre, into a ballroom dance number. And she succeeds. But the thing I most remember about her, besides her dance moves, is her LONG hair (several feet long–reaching to just above her knees), swept back with a big bow right out of the 1980s.

“Long, beautiful, gleaming, steaming, flaxen, waxen… I adore hair!” (James Rado and Gerome Ragni, Hair)

The only thing I haven’t figured out is how she doesn’t trip over her LONG hair as she sweeps around the dance floor!

The Deaf/Mute Man. He is quiet but undeterred from the challenge of not being able to hear or communicate. He asked me to dance, once, by pointing to himself, then to me, then to the dance floor (kind of like the Saturday Night Live club scene spoofs with Will Farrell and Chris Kattan.) I got the message. I thought he was just being “cool.” We headed out onto the dance floor.

He smiled and nodded at me the first few seconds the music played and as we danced, so it wasn’t until he whipped out a pad of paper and pen in the middle of our song that I realized he couldn’t speak. He wrote his name on the paper to introduce himself. Then he motioned to me and handed me his pen and paper. I stopped dancing and wrote my name for him. He smiled, nodded his head, shook my hand, and continued dancing.

Several beats later he stopped dancing, took out his wallet and showed me his driver’s license and employee card from his job; to show me where he lived, that he was gainfully employed and what he did for a living.

A little while later he did the Scout salute and pointed to himself to let me know he was an Eagle Scout. And before the song was over, in an unforgettable display, he showed me aspects of his religion so I would know of his faith as well!

Dancing with him was a memory. The thing I remember most about him is that he smiled non-stop, and every few seconds or so, would give me a two thumbs up signal with a big smile. (I don’t know if he was telling me he was having fun or that I was doing a good job dancing, but it’s hard not to feel uplifted when someone expresses enjoyment of your company and makes you think you’re doing a good job!) A good example for all of the rest of us, especially those in the throes of an unexpected life!

“I can not remember even thinking that I was deaf when I was dancing.” (Stephanie Beacham)

Mr. Cat in The Hat. Picture a real life version of Dr. Seuss’s unforgettable cat man illustration and you will have seen this singles dance participant. His thin, dark, hair starts way back on his head. His expression is droll; his eyelids are “sleepy” looking. And his mustache calls to mind cat whiskers. Reminiscent of the cat’s bow tie, he always wears a red shirt. But unlike the misadventures the real cat provides, Mr. Cat in The Hat is quiet and sticks to dancing. He’s a nice man–I’ve danced with him once when he asked me. I just couldn’t help but notice his resemblance to someone famous…

“We looked! Then we saw him step in on the mat! We looked! And we saw him! The Cat in the Hat!” (Dr. Seuss)

The Cruiser.I haven’t figured this guy out. He is nice looking and dresses normally. But all he does is circle the dance floor, walking around the fringe of dancers. He stares at you as he approaches, looks you right in the eye as he walks by, yet doesn’t make contact beyond that. In fact, I’ve never seen him dance. I’m not sure who, or what, he is looking for. But apparently he hasn’t found it yet!

“Folks, we have reached our cruising altitude now, so I am going to switch the seat belt sign off. Feel free to move about as you wish…”

The Robot.I am not making this up. There is a 40-something man at the singles dances who dances like a robot (everyone from the 1980s will know the moves I’m talking about!) to EVERY SINGLE song. I even saw him do a variation of it on a slow song.

“The top two awards don’t even go to the robots.” (Chuck Gosdzinski)

The Jogger.This slight-of-build man gets your heart rate up just watching him on the dance floor. His dance moves seriously consist of a slow jog, using arms and legs, keeping his head up and smiling the entire time! Not quite Richard Simmons-esque, but quite unlike any dance move I’ve ever seen before! No wonder he has the build of a distance runner–he never stops running, except maybe to walk! (I’ve only seen him dance.)

“Jogging is very beneficial. It’s good for your legs and your feet. It’s also very good for the ground. It makes it feel needed.” (Charles Schulz, Peanuts)

There are a lot of gray-haired people at the dances, too, that have to be in their 60s-80s. Although it strikes me a little bit funny to see them out on the dance floor dancing to Beyonce and The Black-eyed Peas! (Singles dances play an occasional song by Stevie Wonder, Earth, Wind and Fire, or a country song, although the playlist is unexpectedly modern. I don’t know how everyone else feels, but I sort of wish it was more 70s and 80s music. In my opinion, it might make all of the dancers look a bit less “out of place” if we weren’t dancing to the same music today’s teenagers listen to!)

But I admire the seniors for coming and dancing to music that can’t be as good as what they enjoyed in the 1950s and 1960s. They’re good sports! And they totally disprove the old quip that, “An old cat will not learn how to dance.” (Moroccan Proverb) You should see some of them attempt to bust modern moves! I give them an A+ for enthusiasm AND effort!

I also haven’t gotten used to some of the singles dance “traditions.” Here are a few I’ve observed, although I have to confess, I have not participated in any of them. I sit on the side and watch.

Speed Dance. I don’t know the real name for this, but I assume it’s a dance version of speed dating. The men and women form a huge circle around the entire dance floor, everyone with a partner if they have one. The song begins, the dancers do a specific set of dance steps together for about 8 counts, end with a turn, take a step to the side and repeat the same thing with the new partner they’ve moved to. If you don’t have a partner for the count of 8, you stand there or move to the rhythm, and never dispair–one will come to you within the next measure or two!

“The Single Lady” Dance. When the D.J. play’s Beyonce’s “All The Single Ladies” song, all of the women form a large circle around the dance floor and take turns, one at a time, dancing into the center and doing their own moves for a few beats, before returning to the outside of the circle to watch other single women enter the center and dance. They aren’t the only ones watching, though. All of the single men are gathered around behind them clapping and enjoying the performance.

All I can say is, “Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh…” and anxiously wait for the song to be over and the humiliation to end. I have to say the women dancing don’t appear to be humiliated (they look like they’re having a good time.) It’s my problem. I feel humiliated on their behalf!

Has it all REALLY come to that?

“It’s really hard to walk in a single woman’s shoes — that’s why you sometimes need really special shoes!”
(Sex and the City)

Line Dancing.Singles dances have about 12 different line dances they do for specific songs. And they ALL get out and do them!

Although I am grateful single people have a place to go for social experiences and to relieve some of the loneliness, the one thought I have had, each and every time I’ve gone to a singles function is this: “There is NO WAY anyone in this room, including myself, is ever getting married!”

I sure hope I’m wrong.

Because I just can’t used to that, either.

Bachelor #15: The Cowboy (Without A Pillow To Lay His Head)

Date: July 9, 2010 Author: Andrea Merriman

This bachelor, I’ve learned, is somewhat infamous in the Utah County singles scene. I didn’t know it at the time until after I dated him. (What can I say? I’m relatively “new” here!)

Bachelor #15 was a total cowboy who wore cowboy boots. And at the end, I found out he was a lot more like the lone cowboys I’d seen in movies than I’d ever realized: riding alone through rugged country on a trusty horse, drinking out of a tin cup, rolling a blanket out on the dirt next to a campfire under the stars without so much as a pillow on which to lay his head as he slept…but somehow, it’s MUCH more attractive in the movies!

He was an outdoorsman. He knew how to sew. He knew how to preserve food through canning. And as it turns out, not only did he get in fights (physical, fist fights) he drank out of Mason jars instead of glasses! (In my defense, I didn’t know these things until our last date–more on that is coming.)

I don’t know that we had much, if anything in common, other than he was 6’2″ and 6’2″ has always been my favorite height!

For me, in my unexpected life, he was brief entertainment. We went on several dates. However, my children (and their friends) did not like him. Clearly, it wasn’t going anywhere. The end came the night he invited me to his apartment to watch a movie.

I walked in and immediately noticed an air mattress on the living room floor. I ignored it, sat on the couch, and watched the movie. Afterward, I asked about the air mattress.

“Did your children just come for a visit?” I asked.

“No, why?” he replied.

“You have an air mattress on the floor of your living room,” I explained. “I guess that’s where your kids sleep when they come–and you just haven’t put it away from the last visit?”

“No,” he answered. “THAT is where I sleep!”

Goodbye, Bachelor #15. I know I’m not being open minded at all, but knowing you’re 43-44 years old and sleep on an air mattress on your living room floor is just too much for me! You’ve been divorced three years and still haven’t been able to provide a bed for yourself? THAT worries me. I guess you haven’t heard that, “A wooden bed is better than a golden coffin.” (Russian Proverb)

Or an air mattress.

And since you’re a cowboy, I’d feel irresponsible if I didn’t pass along some other tidbits of wisdom I’ve gleaned from my research:

“Never drop your gun to hug a grizzly.”

“Never kick a cow chip on a hot day.”

“Don’t squat with yer spurs on.”

“Always drink upstream from the herd.”

And here’s a last bit of cowboy wisdom for you: “Never approach a bull from the front, a horse from the rear, or a fool from any direction.”

I should have followed my own advice.

Bachelor #14: The Rule Breaker

Date: July 9, 2010 Author: Andrea Merriman

Bachelor #14 was a nice, normal, successful businessman I met online. He lived several hours away from me. And broke one of his “cardinal rules” to date me: he didn’t drive distances for women or to date them. Yet he drove them for me.

As Katharine Hepburn said, “If you obey all the rules, you miss all the fun.” And as he said, “I can’t believe how many ‘rules’ I’ve broken for you.”

Although we laughed a lot and had a lot of fun, Bachelor #14 isn’t memorable to me because of any particular weird thing he did (he didn’t do any, like I said, he was totally nice and normal!) He is memorable to me because I learned something from him that literally changed my life.

Thank goodness he broke the rules! “If I’d observed all the rules, I’d never have got anywhere.” (Marilyn Monroe)

I have learned a couple of things from certain men I’ve dated. One that stands out in my mind occurred while dating Bachelor #1.

At some point in dating, when things get to a certain “stage,” every man has asked me if I really, truly am “over” my former spouse. They say, “I know you’ve said you are, I know you act like you are, but are you REALLY? How can you be over Him so quickly after being married for 20 years?”

I never know what to say to that, other than the truth: I am over Him. I don’t know why, I don’t know how, I just know that I am. I always assumed it was because the lies, the betrayal, and the deception were so deep, so complete and so thorough (into every aspect of our life, our faith, our friends and family, and his career.) I assumed all of that was what had helped the love die so quickly and the tie fade so fast after I had the rug of my entire existence ripped out from under me in that one fateful moment on that one terrible day: March 18, 2009.

But I learned there was probably more to it than that. Bachelor #1 pointed it out.

He told me I was missing something important. That I’d received a blessing I didn’t even realize. He had known people married only 3-4 years and unable to move on after their divorce. He said I had received a huge blessing that I was able to get over something so huge and to move on so “quickly.” He said it really was a blessing to me.

I believe in counting your blessings, looking for the good, acknowledging the tender mercies you receive each day and living your life with gratitude every day in all things. So I was thankful that although I’d been too clueless to see it, someone else had seen it and pointed it out to me so I could realize it. So I could acknowledge a miracle, a blessing, in my life.

I realized, “When we lose one blessing, another is often most unexpectedly given in its place.” (C.S. Lewis)

That was certainly true for me.

Bachelor #14 taught me something different: “You don’t have to tell your story any more.”

It was a moment for me. An absolute epiphany.

I looked at him in shock. “What? Not tell my story? But how? Everyone always wants to know why you divorced, what dysfunctional tendencies you have that led to something so terrible. I can’t lie!” I said.

Bachelor #14 replied, “I’m not telling you to lie. I’m telling you that you don’t have to tell your story any more to anyone. You don’t have to tell it to the people you date. Of anyone I’ve met, your story really isn’t your story–it isn’t what you did; it’s what someone else did. You did nothing wrong or criminal, you were not involved, it has nothing to do with you other than it completely changed your life and you ended up with a new and different one in Utah. But you don’t have to tell your story to any one any more.”

It was one of those things that had been right in front of me all along, yet I had never seen it! However, as soon as I saw it, it made perfect sense to me and I wondered how I’d never realized it before.

I clarified, “Well, what do I say to people who asked me why I got divorced? Everyone always asks that.”

Bachelor #14 had a good sense of humor. He laughed and said, “There are so many things to choose from in your case, can’t you pick just one?”

That made me laugh. What he said was totally true. There were SO many reasons I got divorced. I seriously could pick just one “little” one from the plethora of reasons I’d had and it would be a big enough reason for any normal person to understand!

Bachelor #14 encouraged, “You CAN do that! Just tell one little reason and the rest is nobody’s business.”

That conversation changed my life.

It allowed me to separate myself from everything my former spouse had done. In that moment, I was able to let it all go. I had known all along my former spouse’s actions weren’t mine, but because I had been married to him, they were a burden I carried to some degree–as I lived each day with the consequences His choices had thrust upon me and as I felt shame not only for knowing someone who had done such terrible things but for having been married to him while he did them.

But in an instant, I wasn’t ashamed any more. I wasn’t humiliated any more. I wasn’t trying to hide any more. I wasn’t worried about living a life of anonymity or about trying to hide who I was and what I had come from.

I was free to be me, and only me, again.

Andrea Merriman.

Why had it taken me so many months to realize that? I’d had good friends who had told me that over and over, but somehow I hadn’t been able to see it or believe it before. But in that moment, I finally did.

Like that old game “Red Light, Green Light” where you take baby steps at first so you don’t get caught by the “it” person, but the closer you get to the end and to winning, your steps get bigger and bigger until the last one or two steps are giant, almost reckless leaps…THAT is what that conversation and the realization it led me to were for me.

Prior to that, I’d felt almost completely healed. Thanks to Bachelor #14, the remaining gap narrowed considerably. In fact, was there even a gap any more?

Things with Bachelor #14 were perfect while it lasted, but it wasn’t meant to be. There were some core values we differed on. So goodbye Bachelor #14, but I’ll never forget you.

“You are remembered for the rules you break.” (Douglas MacArthur)

I’m so grateful he did.

Bachelor #13: Mr. Hostile

Date: July 8, 2010 Author: Andrea Merriman

I have attended singles functions the past several months because…I’m single. If I stopped to analyze it, I guess I’m going to meet people and make friends. However, in the wake of the trauma I lived through discovering my spouse had betrayed me and neighbors and friends and relatives and strangers, in the aftermath of our divorce and our move to Utah and my return to the workforce full-time, I never let myself think about my purpose or motivation in going, or anything else related to being single. I just went.

So I can’t imagine what some people think of me.

There I am, at a singles function, with 99% of the people probably in attendance to meet members of the opposite sex, and I freeze (like a deer caught in headlights) every time a man asks for my phone number!

I stammer. I am not quite sure what to say. I’m shocked. I’m surprised. And I’m embarrassed. I don’t want to be seen giving out my phone number. Yet…don’t I go there to meet people and have social experiences? Clearly, I haven’t thought the whole thing through very well.

That’s how I met the man who would become Bachelor #13.

He wasn’t bad looking; he was tall; he had hair; he was educated; he had six children. And he was really pressing me for my phone number! In fact, he got out his phone to enter my contact info as we stood on the dance floor. I could have died! I asked him to put his phone away.

He obliged, but asked me for my business card. (Just my luck, my company hadn’t ordered mine yet so I had nothing like that to give him.) He began reaching for his phone again so I had to think quickly before he pulled his phone out in front of everyone again.

Instead, I asked if he had a business card and told him if he gave me one, I’d contact him and give him my information. (I’m a loser at some of this stuff, I admit it!)

He gave me his card. A few days later, I followed through on my commitment to contact him. I wasn’t sure what I was getting myself into. I didn’t know what to expect. All I know is I didn’t expect the full court press he gave me.

Bachelor #13 began calling all of the time, emailing every day, texting me constantly, and asking me out. I tried to keep an open mind about the whole thing, but something wasn’t quite right and I couldn’t put my finger on it. It was just an impression I had. As a result, my inclination was to take it slow. So that’s what I attempted to do. Much to Bachelor #13′s chagrin.

His constant presence in my life was too much too soon. After working all day, I needed to be free to spend time with my children and chat with them during the rest of their waking hours. I asked Bachelor #13 to please call me after 9:30 p.m. at night so I’d have time to spend time with my children, check their homework, and get them all taken care of and in bed before I became inaccessible because I was on the phone.

It seemed like he couldn’t wait that long. The phone calls came anyway.

So I told him my evenings were a bit more complicated than I’d anticipated; email was probably the best way to reach me.

Within a few days, I got a very hostile but anonymous text to my cell phone. The text message ranted and raved about how inaccessible I made myself, about how uninterested in men I must be to limit contact (outside of dates) to email and phone calls and only after a certain time of day. Then the text told me I was missing out, that he was the best thing that had ever happened to me, the best thing that would ever happen to me, and that I was an idiot. The message ended by saying, “And the best part about this? You don’t even know WHO this is!”

Yes, I had a pretty good idea who it was. I may be an idiot, but I’m not stupid! It was Bachelor #13. He was the only man that I knew of, at the time, who had my contact info and was upset that I couldn’t or wouldn’t use it all hours of the day and night, and at the expense of my job and family!

That was the end of Bachelor #13.

I’ve seen him a few times since then but he won’t speak to me; he pretends not to know who I am when I say hello. So since he won’t speak to me, I’ll speak for him. This is what I imagine he’d say:

“I’m hostile to men, I’m hostile to women, I’m hostile to cats, to poor cockroaches, I’m afraid of horses.” (Norman Mailer)

With Bachelor #13, I’m not sure who dumped who. I’m just grateful it happened.

Life’s too short to lash out like that. And only cowards won’t sign their name.

—Andrea

Bachelor #12: Mr. Meditation

Date: July 5, 2010 Author: Andrea Merriman

“I was in yoga the other day. I was in full lotus position. My chakras were all aligned. My mind is cleared of all clatter and I’m looking out of my third eye and everything that I’m supposed to be doing. It’s amazing what comes up, when you sit in that silence. ‘Mama keeps whites bright like the sunlight, Mama’s got the magic of Clorox 2.’” (Ellen DeGeneres)

Bachelor #12.

I think we all go through a stage, or have moments, of nerdiness as we grow up. And then there are some that never quite outgrow it. THAT was Bachelor #12; nice, but totally nerdy, although from a very prominent political family–U.S. Senators and state representatives are his family members! When he asked me out I said yes, partly because he was a nice man, partly because I admired his courage…or maybe it was the revelation of his third eye that I found so irresistible?

Right away, he asked me my “story” (how long had I been divorced, why did I divorce, where is my former spouse, all of the usual questions) as we drove to a restaurant for dinner. I was upfront about it all and poor Bachelor #12 was completely blown away by every aspect of my divorce and life! My story was too much for him. I could tell it was completely unexpected in his realm of existence, just as it had been in mine–until it happened to me.

Frankly, I was surprised he didn’t turn the car right around and take me home BEFORE dinner. But like I said, he was a very nice man. He bravely soldiered on through sharing a meal with me. In fact, we ate dinner, talked until the restaurant closed and the staff finally kicked us out. He did most of the talking.

He told me about challenges he faces every day dealing with..mental illness. That his father suffered from mental illness his entire life until he committed suicide while Bachelor #12 was a teenager. About a sibling with schizophrenia so severe the sibling has spent most of his life in an institution. That another sibling committed suicide as a teenager as well.

I sat there, listening to Bachelor #12′s family history all through dinner, and had three thoughts. First, “That poor family!” Second, “This man is from a very genetically challenged family! I don’t think I want to align myself with that.” And third, “I think these things can be genetic, I wonder if Bachelor #12 suffers from similar challenges?”

My last question was answered almost as soon as I thought it as Bachelor #12 detailed all of the negative mental energy he battles on a daily basis and how he handles it–with serious meditation, keeping in touch with his chakras, chanting, and using the little “instruments” and “spinners” that make noises (I can’t remember what he said they are called.)

As he took me home at the end of the night, I was already planning and worrying about how I could kindly decline any future invitations. I had enough challenges in my own life without adding someone’s negative mental energy to the mix.

But guess what? Bachelor #12 never called ME again! I didn’t expect that. Dumped, by the mentally ill. I never expected that either!

I had to shake my head and laugh at that one.

I have run into Bachelor #12 at singles events several times since that fateful first, and last, “courtesy” date I embarked on. But each time I’ve seen him, HE pretends not to know ME! I NEVER expected THAT! I have to shake my head and laugh at that too. Apparently I’m so uninteresting that I don’t rate even the offer of a second date by a mentally-challenged man!

Either that, or my former life got in the way again. It happens occasionally. Proving, perhaps, that the secret of dating, or, “The secret of having a personal life is not answering too many questions about it.” (Joan Collins)

So long, Bachelor #12.

As for me, I’ll cling to the hope that someone someday realizes, “Mama’s got the magic”! And if I’m lucky, maybe he’ll be oozing positive mental energy to boot.

Bachelor #11: Mr. Salsa

Date: July 3, 2010 Author: Andrea Merriman

“Everything in the universe has rhythm; Everything dances.” (Maya Angelou)

And no one danced more than Bachelor #11: Mr. Salsa.

He was several years younger than me, he was very fit, and every date was an opportunity to go salsa dancing! I had never really salsa danced before. Bachelor #11 didn’t mind. He was happy (and patient) to teach me.

But I guess you could say we weren’t dancing to the same rhythm. I discovered he was unemployed, on welfare and lived with his mother. I, on the other hand, was the sole parent and support of four children. I needed someone dancing a dance more similar to mine.

Need I say more?

Except for this: “Salsa is something I usually put on my chips, um with a little cheese. I’m going to say that’s the only thing I really know about salsa.” (Travis Wall)

Bachelor #10: The Importance of “Game”

Date: July 2, 2010 Author: Andrea Merriman

“I’m physically quite fit at the moment, and the leg was fine. The game wasn’t quite there.” (Ernie Els)

When I think of Bachelor #10, “game” comes to mind. Keep reading and you’ll find out why.

I met him online. He was from Idaho, but came to Utah a lot. He was a confident, somewhat brash salesman who said everything he thought. He preferred to talk on the phone and text. So he contacted me that way, even before we met in person. But he had some concerns.

First, he wanted to know if I really looked like the pictures I had posted.

When I asked what he meant by that, he said it looked like I had cropped my photos very creatively and he wanted to make sure I wasn’t 600 pounds in real life. Why had I only shown my face?

There was only one response to that. He had found me out.

I HAD intentionally cropped the pictures I posted but not for the reasons Bachelor #10 feared–but to crop my children out of them!

Because I am a mother, I didn’t have a single photo of me alone. (Why would I want one? I love my children!) And although some people posted pictures of their children online, I intentionally did not. Cropping issue resolved. But I was a little bit bothered by his “shallowness.” Who really thinks that way? I guess I still had a lot to learn about being single back then.

Second issue: my children.

Bachelor #10 wanted to know the ages of my children. At the time, they were 16, 14, 10 and 4. He choked when he heard the age of the four-year-old, but by then, I was pretty used to that.

“You’re 42 and you have a four-year-old?” he asked. “WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?”

What was I thinking? I was thinking that I believed in love, marriage and families. That I loved being a wife, a mother, and parenting my children. I believed I was happily married to a good man who was as devoted to our family as I was. That I wanted another child; that we could afford another child. (You see, I was getting the same “fake” investment statements my former spouse was sending to everyone else. Over the years we’d been married, I had watched our savings and investments “grow” just as every other victim of my former spouse’s Ponzi scheme had. At the time, I thought we had approximately $8 million dollars invested. I thought we could certainly afford another child!)

Those were just some of my thoughts.

I certainly was NOT thinking that I was going to be left penniless, divorced, single, and alone to raise four children!

All right, and I admit it, I was thinking (or hoping) that having a child in my late 30s would help keep me young!

Third issue: money. Bachelor #10 wanted to make sure that my children were taken care of financially. By someone else.

Nope. But he drove down and took me on a date anyway. Meeting him in person was interesting. It was a night full of revelations.

First of all, he was a large man. Especially in the vicinity of the stomach area. When I saw him I was stunned that he had been so concerned about the cropping of my photos and so particular about my possible size, when he clearly had already beat me in that area!

He was friendly and outgoing, though. And he continued to share his thoughts about…fidelity.

He told me he had been unfaithful to his wife once, had confessed to her what he had done, and they had repaired the marriage. Was that a problem for me? I tried to keep an open mind. After all, it was only one date. I said no, that was not a problem for me.

Then he revealed he had also had an affair with a different woman while he was married, but eventually felt guilty and confessed to his wife what he had done and they had repaired the marriage. Was an actual extra-marital affair a problem for me? (Keep that mind open, Andrea.) I said we were simply on one date, it was not a problem for me.

He may have mentioned additional indiscretions. I can’t remember now. But at end of the date, Bachelor #10 decided to lay it all on the line. He won me over with his last revelation. He told me he was still married! Was that a problem for me? THAT was a PROBLEM for ME. Because, “Men play the game; women know the score.” (Roger Woddis)

The best part of the date, however, happened when it was over. I went into my house, shut the door, and got a text soon after. It was Bachelor #10. I wondered if he was texting me from my driveway! He wanted to know one thing. “Do I got game?”

I couldn’t believe he had the nerve to ask a question like that after revealing not only multiple infidelities, but that he was still married! No, there was no game. Not only do I not play games, I especially don’t play games with married men.

I didn’t bother to respond.

I went to work the next day and asked my hip, younger co-workers what Bachelor #10 could possibly have meant by that last question (just to make sure I hadn’t misunderstood.) They explained, “He wants to know if he’s a player, if you’re into him, if you like him, if he has mojo, if you’re going to date him again.”

Nope.

Bachelor #10 texted me a few times after that, but I never responded. I think he eventually got the message that he did not have game and that even if he had game, I wasn’t going to be a part of it.

Goodbye Bachelor #10. Take your “game” someplace else.

“By the time the fool has learned the game, the players have dispersed.” (African Proverb)

Bachelor #9: Mr. Universe

Date: June 29, 2010 Author: Andrea Merriman

Bachelor #9 planned some fun dates–like skiing in Park City. But he was too impatient for my taste. And I wasn’t impatient enough for his!

Although he was a father, he couldn’t seem to grasp what it meant to date a mother. He wanted to call, talk, text, date or email ALL of the time. I just couldn’t do that. And because I couldn’t spend a lot of time doing things like that, because I needed to spend time with my children when I wasn’t working full-time, he dumped me.

“I can tell you’re just not that into me. If you liked me, if you were really interested in me, you’d make more time for me.”

You know, he was probably right.

But his parting comment made me laugh. “Have a nice life. Good luck finding a man willing to accept so little time and effort from you.”

If he only knew, huh? I devoted the time and effort to dating that I thought my family could spare. It’s simply that all of my effort wasn’t focused solely on him! What Bachelor #9 needed was to be the center of a woman’s universe. (I don’t blame him for wanting that at all, by the way.)

Unfortunately, “The Universe has as many different centers as there are living beings in it” (Alexander Solzhenitsyn)

And I guess there just wasn’t the time or interest, on my part, to make him mine.

Farewell, Bachelor #9.

Bachelor #_: Cyber Stalker

Date: June 29, 2010 Author: Andrea Merriman

Before I leave the topic of stalker men, I think I’ll share the scariest online experience I had as a newly single, testing out the whole online scene, divorced mother and sole parent and support of four children living in Utah.

A Cyber Stalker.

To this day, I don’t know who he was or how he found me.

All I know is that late one night, I was sitting at my computer, innocently checking my messages, when I heard a crackling sound. It took me a minute to process it, and I heard shuffling and other noises while I continued to check my email. Then I heard someone cough.

It was late at night, I was the only one awake at my house. I was sitting in front of my computer wearing my pajamas and glasses. The cough was very unexpected, and it came from right by me.

It made me jump.

I looked on my screen and I saw a window open, with a round-faced, dark-haired man wearing glasses and a mustache sitting in his home (or some location I’ve never seen before) peering down at me. Looking at me!

I may be 42 years old, but I move fast when I need to. I dove under the desk! My heart was pounding. Who was that man? And how had he connected to my computer? And how was he able to see me, sitting at home in my own house?

From underneath the desk I grabbed the keyboard and mouse and moved to close the window. And then I accessed the online site and blocked the man whose name appeared on the screen. To this day, I don’t know how the man did what he did. But it freaked me out!

I asked the I.T. guy, Bachelor #7, how that was possible and he didn’t have an answer for me. He just told me I was wise to block someone like that.

Farewell to my Cyber Stalker. He wasn’t even worthy of a number, in my opinion. I’m not sorry to see him go.

NOW…on to Bachelor #9.

Bachelor #8: The Stalker

Date: June 28, 2010 Author: Andrea Merriman

Back in my old life, in Colorado as the stay-at-home mother of four children and the wife of a respected investment advisor, religious leader and upstanding member of the community, married for 20 years, etc…I got a kick out a song by Goldfinger. I think it was called “Stalker.”

My teenage son introduced it to me. He used to play it for me, we’d sing along with it in the car, laugh and dance to it in the kitchen, and were entertained by the lyrics every time we heard them.

“Uh-oh-oh she’s following me. Uh-oh-oh she’s out of her tree.Uh-oh-oh she’s off of her rocker. I wanna marry my stalker.”

I just never expected my spouse would one day reveal to me that he had been running a Ponzi scheme for most of our marriage, that he was heading to prison and that I would be left alone to raise our four children. I never expected my unexpected life. And I certainly NEVER expected to one day have my own stalker.

Bachelor #8.

He was probably the only true bachelor I’ve dated. He was 46 years old and had never been married. He also earned the well-deserved title of Stalker, according to my friends, family and children.

“A stalker will look for any kind of attention, positive or negative. A vast majority of them don’t see themselves as stalkers.”~ Jill McArthur

I met him online.

I should have known his type–I saw him looking at me, or my profile online, 30-50 times over the course of several weeks yet he never contacted me. Not one word. I couldn’t figure out why some random stranger would look at my picture or information so frequently. I finally figured it out, though. I think that’s what they call online stalking! Lol.

Eventually, he contacted me. Called me. Asked me to dinner. We met at a restaurant and I confess, when I finally met him in person, I asked him about his propensity to view photos and profiles so often for so long yet never contact the people he was viewing. He told me he was “just bored.”

I guess it’s true: “A vast majority of them don’t see themselves as stalkers.”

After we were seated on our first date, we started comparing notes and realized we’d lived at the same apartment complex while attending the same university. I’d even worked in the office of the apartment complex and had taken his rent! We remembered a lot of the same people. It was 20 years later, so his face wasn’t familiar to me, but I knew who his roommates had been. We had 20 years of catching up to do.

Instead, he looked right at me and said, “I know EXACTLY who you are!”

Chilling. Even, or especially from, a stalker.

My heart sank to the pit of my stomach. I had distanced myself from every part of my old life. I had even moved to a new state where I didn’t know anyone. I lived quietly, under the radar, intentionally. I was trying to make a fresh start for my children and myself, far removed from the taint of a former family member accused of bilking clients out of millions of dollars through his Ponzi scheme. And in that moment I felt it was all for naught.

In my new city, in my new state, living my new life, I met a random “stranger” and my cover was blown.

Bachelor #8 had known my ex-husband and had been on business in Denver, CO, when news of Shawn Merriman’s Ponzi scheme and his criminal behavior broke and our assets were seized. Bachelor #8 had watched it all on the news. He put the details together while sitting in the restaurant with me.

He had a lot of questions. He grilled me about the Ponzi scheme, about how I could not have known what was going on, about my 20-year marriage, and appeared very skeptical of every answer I gave. It felt like Bachelor #8 was “good cop” AND “bad cop,” when all I was looking for was a social experience!

His side of the conversation consisted of comments about how while I had been married for 20 years, he had been doing the very same thing we were doing that night over and over again for the same amount of time. He told me he was sick of dating, tired of first dates, sick of getting to know new people, uninterested in the lives and stories of others, that everyone was the same and had the same story (I begged to differ on that one–I do not believe every single woman has an experience and a story like mine, but that’s just my opinion!) and he abhorred all of the “game playing” that was dating.

I couldn’t figure out why he had asked me out! And why he sat there, telling his date, me, that he hated what we were doing, didn’t want to get to know me, that he had heard everything I was going to say already before, and that he didn’t care about the details of my life.

It was the craziest first date I’ve ever been on, and all quite unexpected as a 42-year-old returning to dating after two decades of marriage.

The evening ended, I went home, walked up to my room and said to myself, “That was one of those ‘catch-up’ dates–what have you done the past 20 years? But I know I’ll never hear from him again!”

He called me the next morning at 9 a.m. and asked me out again for that night.

I couldn’t go. But my stalker didn’t give up. He called or texted me several times a week for the next few months. He asked me out when he came to town. If I couldn’t go out with him, he’d ask, “Why can’t you go? You got a date, don’t you?” And when I admitted the reason for my unavailability, he wanted to know all about the man I would be with and what we were doing–and then he’d text me throughout my date with the other man!

“Where are you?”

“What are you doing?”

“What restaurant are you at?”

“Do you like Mr. A.F.?” (He always named every one of my dates–Mr. A.F., Springville Guy, Tall Guy, Mr. P.G., etc…)

“What are you doing now?”

“You kiss him yet?”

Etc…

When he asked me a question, and if I answered it, he’d always argue with me about my answer.

One night we went to an Italian restaurant for dinner. On the way home, he suddenly decided he wasn’t taking me home. Instead, he was taking me to the grocery store. The grocery store? I told him I didn’t want to go. He argued with me about that. I told him I didn’t need to go. He argued with me about that. I told him I wasn’t going to go. He just kept driving. He told me I was a single mom and single moms always needed food and always needed to go to the grocery store and buy food. He told me I could shop in peace, and he would follow along and push the cart for me. I had no course but to settle in for the drive to the grocery store. My stalker was as stubborn as they come.

At the grocery store he insisted I shop for what I needed. I didn’t really need anything–except groceries for the dinner I was making for Bachelor #7 the next night, so I finally thought, “What the heck? He won’t take no for an answer, he made me come here, he won’t let me leave until I shop, so I guess I’ll buy food for tomorrow night’s date!” And that’s exactly what I did.

Bachelor #8 followed me through the store, pushed the cart, gave me recipes he insisted I cook (and texted and emailed me several times to see if I’d cooked what he told me to cook–I never had), and even threw a few ingredients I absolutely DID NOT WANT (and later threw away because Bachelor #8 would not let me leave the store without the items he insisted I try) into the cart. After checking out, he loaded the sacks into his truck and drove me home. On the way to my home he instructed me to call my teenage son and tell him to meet us outside to haul the groceries into the house for me.

THAT bothered me. I didn’t introduce my children to the men I dated. I didn’t even let them see each other, usually. I argued against it, but my stalker insisted, so I made the call. I knew better than to try to argue with him.

My son and a nephew came out, met Bachelor #8, hauled in the groceries and were very quiet about him to me, but they did not become his fans! In fact, goodwill toward Bachelor #8 spread throughout the household. I don’t know what was said between brother and sister, but my teenage daughter started patrolling my phone, checking my texts, grabbing my phone if it rang, and if she saw it was my stalker, she would demand I not answer the phone! Bachelor #8 could have used some serious help from Dale Carnegie on “How To Win Friends And Influence People” at the Merriman house. At least with its teenagers!

Off and on, Bachelor #8 would continue to visit my profile. His views crept into the triple digits. I could NOT figure out what he was doing online at my profile so often! If I got online to check messages, he’d start IM chats with me and grill me about men I was dating, or argue with me about something. But he always called when he came to town and offered to take me out. (I should say he was progressively more cheerful and positive as the weeks went on. He was nicer and friendlier with each successive date. He was even funny sometimes. It was just that crazy stalking tendancy that was the issue. That, and the fact that besides me not being interested romantically or long term in Bachelor #8, he and my children would NEVER have meshed. At all.)

Eventually, one night he proposed marriage. In a roundabout way he admitted he didn’t love me, but firmly believed two good people, with the same beliefs and values, could marry, make it work and have a happy life together. I didn’t just say no to the proposal. I told him NO WAY. And of course, true to form, he argued with me about my answer!

He argued for my acceptance of the proposal. I absolutely argued against it. In the end, I told him I believed his theory could work but that I didn’t want to test it myself. I wanted more for me. I felt I was too young to settle for anything less than my ideal. I was holding out for love.

I still believe in love. I still believe in fairy tales. And I’m still waiting for my happily ever after ending. (Boy. I say that so often it’s almost as if it’s my mantra! Lol.)

But maybe, just maybe, if I say it often enough or long enough, it will eventually come true for me.

Finally, the stalking of my stalker, Bachelor #8, ran it’s course. I got busy with other people, and Bachelor #8 went on a date with someone else. (And called to tell me about it afterward.) I didn’t hear much from my stalker after that…until I started this blog.

Bachelor #8 found it, contacted me, and argued with me about my blog. He argued against my blog with everything he had. When all of that failed, he brought up the safety of my children (he knows how to cut right to the heart of a mother, huh?) and every other thing he could think of to dissuade me in relation to blogging.

But in the end, as in many other times in my life, past and particularly present, I had to stand alone and do what I thought was best for me. (And my children.) And do you know what? I’m still blogging. It has been five whole months of writing and my children and I are not only safe, we’re better and happier than ever!

Who said stalkers know best?

I only know this: “But I do know people that have stalkers and it’s not nice.” (Daniel Craig)

On to Bachelor #9.

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Living Happily Ever After