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First Date

Date: May 21, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“If you’re a young Mafia gangster out on your first date, I bet it’s real embarrassing if someone tries to kill you.” (Jack Handy)

Who can forget their first date?

My mom fondly recalled her first date many times over the course of my life: she was 5 years old, and went to a movie at a movie theater with a boy and his parents. She was a friendly gal, and dated a lot during her childhood and early teens, and then it was recommended by L.D.S. church leaders that dating be delayed until the age of 16 so she stopped dating–until she turned 16 years old!

I remember my first date: Derek.

It was late August 1983 after I had turned 16 years old. The boy I’d had a crush on since the moment I first laid eyes on him (at 14 years old) had asked me out and my friend, Carrie, had come over to help me get ready. I talked and hung out with her while I did my hair and makeup and decided what to wear–and she gave me a pedicure, which I promptly covered up when I put my Topsiders on! It was the 1980s, so of course my hair was something to behold, and accented by the skinny tie (anyone remember wearing those?) that completed my ensemble. We saw the movie, “Strange Brew,” and had a great time. It was a first date with no regrets, or embarrassing moments, that I can recall.

My daughter’s first date was an entirely different experience: Eric.

She went to a school dance with the boy she sits by in Chemistry class, a fun and casual friend. Watching my daughter get ready, and helping her, was a total flashback to the 1980s as she was headed to a decades-themed dance and she and her date had chosen 1980s exercise wear. I helped her find a Jelly belt, tear her sweatshirt to hang off the shoulder, find neon-colored tank tops to layer, get her hair in THE  high side ponytail, with her green eyeshadow (what can I say, we couldn’t find any blue eyeshadow in the house!) and with her hot pink headband (just like Olivia Newton John’s in “Lets Get Physical.”) It wasn’t in the original plan that my daughter drive on the date, but due to car troubles of other parties involved, she ended up driving her car. And accidentally, while slowly backing up, she backed into a friend’s car.

It was dark. Neither she nor her date saw the other car. Thankfully, she backs up really slowly. Thankfully, no damage occurred to either car or to any living being. In fact, the driver of the other car got out, hugged my daughter and told her it was no big deal. I was very relieved there was no damage to people or automobiles; but my daughter was so mortified about the whole thing she wasn’t even dwelling on that. That event overshadowed every other aspect of her first date. That event was what she talked about when she got home. Even late the NEXT evening she was still worrying about it, alone in her bedroom, so I went to check on her.

She was absolutely humiliated, mortified, and didn’t want to show her face anywhere, ever, again. I tried to help her put it into perspective so I said, “Sarah, you can survive this. Just think of other hugely embarrassing things you’ve overcome.”

“Like what?” she asked.

I was stunned. Had the events of 2009 faded that fast in her teenage mind? I clarified, “Like discovering a family member stole millions of dollars, was heading to prison, it was all over the national media, we lost everything and had to watch the government come into our home and take our possessions, some people were mean to us, other people were kind to us yet we had to rely on the charity of others…ALL of those embarrassing moments we endured. If you can survive that humiliation, you can get through anything! This is nothing compared to that.”

Adding that last sentence reminded me that embarrassment and humiliation is all in your perspective. It was also a mistake; add it to the many that continually stream from my mouth, far too often, as I say what I think pretty much as soon as I think it. Call it one of my many weaknesses.

My daughter countered that her experience was far more embarrassing than the one I referenced. I was stunned! I couldn’t believe she really thought that, but she did. She drove her point home (no pun intended, lol!) when she added, “And Mom, if you think criminals, Ponzi schemes, publicity, divorce, prison, crime, government seizure and everything else is more embarrassing than backing into another car on a date…you don’t know ANYTHING about teenage girls!”

Wow. How could I have gotten so old and so far removed from being a teenage girl? And how could I have failed my daughter like that?

You see, one of the great things about being my mother’s daughter is that no matter my embarrassing moment, when I returned home mortified about something that had happened to me, my mom could totally commiserate and share an embarrassing moment from her life that absolutely outdid mine, made me laugh and made me feel so much better about my humiliation! In fact, she survived such mortification that as an adult, friends would call after something embarrassing and ask, “Tell me a story about your mom to make me feel better so I can get through this most recent humiliation.” I thought that’s what mothers are for–and I wasn’t able to do that for mine! (Although I must be blinded by my past, because I could swear 2009 is the ultimate in humiliation. I can’t see myself ever being embarrassed about anything again, after that one!)

So I quit trying to reason with my daughter, stopped attempting to help her put embarrassment into perspective and just empathized with her. I promised that someday, we will look back on her first date…and laugh; we’ll even be the better for it, and we’ll be strong.

“But I learned that there’s a certain character that can be built from embarrassing yourself endlessly. If you can sit happy with embarrassment, there’s not much else that can really get to ya.” (Christian Bale)

Now if we can only be totally hot when we have as much character, strength and wisdom as Batman, we’ll be absolutely set for…The Unexpected Life.

A Bit Of Magic

Date: May 20, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“And yet, I suppose you mourn the loss or the death of what you thought your life was, even if you find your life is better after. You mourn the future that you thought you’d planned.”  (Lynn Redgrave)

And then, wouldn’t you know, later that evening my daughter left on her first date.

I don’t know how to explain what I was thinking or feeling about that, but add to that monumental event my earlier experiences of the day, and I was feeling some loss pretty deeply. In fact, I felt like I was going to burst into tears at any moment. Again.

So while #5 was taking a very uncharacteristic break in the middle of the day and actually laying down for a moment or two (since I’ve known him, I’ve rarely seen him even sit down in the middle of a day, ever! He is one of the most energetic people I have ever known) I went down to the laundry room to fold clean clothes–mostly to hide the potential for another emotional breakdown. I was afraid tears were going to start streaming down my cheeks again, I wasn’t going to be able to stop them and I didn’t want to do that in front of #5.

I was right. No sooner did I step into the laundry room than the tears started flowing. I cried and folded clothes, cried and folded clothes, and felt very alone as I mourned my “losses.” I had piles to fold and expected to be there, alone, for hours, but within minutes I heard a voice behind me say, “Hey! What are you doing in here? Let me help you.” It was #5.

And there I was, breaking down. I kept my back to him and hoped he wouldn’t notice.

I told him I was just folding laundry, that I could take care of it and that he could go rest. But he told me he couldn’t do that. He wanted to help me, he insisted on helping me, stepped in front of me, saw my face and immediately asked me what was wrong. I was caught in the act of what I’d been trying to hide all day long, but instead replied, ”Nothing, I’m fine.”

But #5 didn’t buy that, despite the fact I was sort of at a loss to explain it, so he stepped forward, put his arms around me and I cried. ”I had a feeling I ought to check on you,” he said. “I was afraid you might be doing something like this. This is a big day. And WHAT are we going to do when our youngest goes on HIS first date in less than 11 years? I’d better start helping you to prepare yourself for that now!” And we laughed.

Thanks to #5, I couldn’t focus on my losses a minute more, I was too focused on my present opportunities and blessings. Second marriage moment #11: seeing, and feeling, the “magic” again.

The magic…of the unexpected life.

“There’s a bit of magic in everything, and some loss to even things out.” (Lou Reed)

So true.

The “Rich Life”

Date: October 21, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“The secret to a rich life is to have more beginnings than endings.” (David Weinbaum)

I’ve had a lot of chapters in my life close, and I’ve had some new chapters in my life begin. Here’s one I don’t think I’ve mentioned before.

While my 20 year marriage was ending in the worst possible way–I couldn’t have dreamt up all of the circumstances, not even in a nightmare, it was just so outside my realm of possibilities–my oldest was experiencing his own beginning.

He met a cute girl at a dance, developed his first crush, turned 16, went on his first date and somehow ended up with his first girlfriend. (I don’t typically advocate steady relationships for teens, but this situation proved to be a great distraction for my son from the other events in our life. Plus, I knew we were moving in a few short months.)

The girl came from a good family and was not only a good girl, a beautiful girl, and an intelligent girl but also a scrapper. (If I could have hand picked a girl for my son at that time, she would have been it.) Shortly after my son found out about his dad’s crime and pending incarceration, he worried, “No girl is going to like me now.” I have to admit, I was a bit worried about that too based on the fact that I was getting more than my fair share of animosity from some people. But he needn’t have worried.

Not one kid at his school brought up his disastrous personal situation. No one was mean to him; no one teased him. In fact, he went to a very integrated high school with students from all walks of life and that situation couldn’t have been better for him at that time. While I initially tried to prepare him for possible ostracism at school, suddenly something dawned on him and he joked, “Mom, it’s going to be ok! I just realized I’m probably not the only kid at my school with a parent in prison! I guarantee it!”

And the girl didn’t care. She got him a birthday gift and took him to a Colorado Avalanche hockey game for their first date. She was a help and a friend to my other children as well. And in between all of the fun, the girl was online defending our family from malicious comments posted in the media!

It was a little bit surreal to be living amid the devastation of my life and love while watching my teenage son begin his. He had his first crush. I had divorce unexpectedly looming on my horizon. Yet at the same time, it was fun to watch my son make a new friend, date her and experience his “first” crush. I was so happy for him, it gave us something fun to enjoy and delight in, and I confess it sparked some glimmers of hope within me that made me begin to dream that all of that might again be mine someday; that there just might be richness and joy yet to experience in my own life if I held on and didn’t give up hope.

“The marvelous richness of human experience would lose something of rewarding joy if there were no limitations to overcome. The hilltop hour would not be half so wonderful if there were no dark valleys to traverse.” (Helen Keller)

There were dark valleys to traverse, darker and deeper than I’d ever imagined. But the view from the top, now, couldn’t be more wonderful.

I’m rich.

For real.

And I’m not talking about money.

Taken By Surprise

Date: September 30, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“A sudden bold and unexpected question doth many times surprise a man and lay him open.” (Francis Bacon)

Have you ever been taken by surprise?

I have a few times in my life. Most recently, the night Bachelor #5 asked if he even had a chance with me; the first few times he told me he’d marry me tomorrow if I were willing; the night he mentioned “September;” and… one other time.

I had a date with Bachelor #5. That night, as I was getting ready, I was surprised to find I had unexpected help. My daughter (and her friend) were very interested in what I was going to wear and how I was going to look for my date that night.

The girls were digging through every piece of clothing that comprised my limited wardrobe, trying to find just the right thing for me to wear. Their concern was palpable; as if I’d made a habit of dressing like a circus performer and they wanted to save me from my habitual fashion disasters for a night.

“Laugh, clown, laugh. This is what I tell myself whenever I dress up like Bozo.” (Jack Handy)

Although I never would have chosen divorce and my single status but for the circumstances that led to it, I have to admit, a fun memory from my unexpected life was getting ready for my first date with the assistance of my sister and my daughter; and getting ready for many other dates with the assistance of my daughter, who was always on hand and always prepared with outfit suggestions and wardrobe ideas to help her mother look her best. It was like being a teenager again. Those nights before parties, dances, or evenings out, when friends would come over to help me get ready for a special occasion, or we’d get ready together. It felt a little like that, having my sister and my daughter help me.

But that night was the first time in awhile my daughter had been so concerned about what I was going to wear and look like on a date; however, she had a friend over and I figured it was a teenage girl thing–a novelty for the friend because her parents are married, she hasn’t had to watch her mother date men she didn’t know; and I figured they were bored, and thus more than willing to impart of their fashion expertise in an attempt to liven up a quiet Saturday night.

“If you are single there is always one thing you should take out with you on a Saturday night… your friends.” (Sarah Jessica Parker)

And fashion advice from a beautiful and stylish teenage daughter!

One Date

Date: June 10, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

An interesting thing happened on that first date. Well, a couple of things.

First, I learned that your date always wants to know your story on the first date–ie. why you got divorced. Wow. I didn’t know that in advance and I was so clueless about dating in the year 2009 I didn’t know to expect that. So when Bachelor #1 asked me that, in my usual deer-caught-in-headlights style, I told him the WHOLE story. Based on the way I’d been treated by some people since the nightmare leading to my single status began, I worried he might open the door and leave me on the side of the road in a Utah city I didn’t know very well yet as soon as he knew my history! But I didn’t consider not telling him or not telling the truth. So I told him. Everything.

His reaction shocked me. He looked at me and said just two words: “I’m sorry.”

Sorry? HE was sorry? He hadn’t done anything. He hadn’t been there, hadn’t known me, in fact, had just met me but he was sorry? I was stunned. He told me he was sorry about what had happened to me and my children. He said he was sorry we had had to live through all of that. And you know what? Just having a virtual stranger hear my story and tell me he was sorry it had happened (instead of immediately questioning my knowledge of what had gone on–or worse, my possible involvement) was healing. I was on the path to overcoming.

Other things helped too. Like laughing, having fun, and feeling carefree for an hour or two. I noticed that for the first time since March 18, I didn’t feel alone and like I, alone, was carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders. While on that date, I had a break from my sorrow and my troubles and THAT was a welcome relief!

And, of course, after the decades of lies and betrayals that led to me worrying about being an “old bag” and feeling like one, having a man compliment my appearance was an added bonus!

Before I went in the house, my date also gave me some excellent dating advice for the second time around.

He told me I’d find dating very different in my 40s. He said that by the time people reach our age, they know very quickly what they want and what they don’t want. He told me to not be offended if someone didn’t like me or want to date me a second time. He said, “Remember back in high school just because you met people, you didn’t want to date ALL of them!” (Just when you thought high school was long in the past…you become unexpectedly single again!) He told me never to think something was wrong with me, it would simply be a matter of them and what they were looking for.

I headed into the house sure I’d never hear from him again.

One date. And already a loser!

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The First Date (Continued)

Date: June 7, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

I couldn’t believe it. I was in a car with a total stranger and it wasn’t weird at all! How could that be? How could I have been married 20 years and NOT feel weird my first night out? But I didn’t. At all. The man was friendly, talkative and very entertaining. I couldn’t believe how comfortable I felt. But at the same time, it was hard to let myself enjoy it. I kept thinking, “What is wrong with me? Why does this not feel weird?”

Then we got to the parking lot where the dance was being held. Suddenly I wondered, again, what I was doing. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. The comfortable feeling while driving must simply have been a bit of beginner’s luck.

He opened my door, helped me out of the car, and we walked toward the dance entrance. Like a coach preparing his player for a competition, the man was briefing me about the dance, what to expect, and offering last minute advice and encouragement. As I was beginning to wonder what hyperventilating felt like (and trying to figure out if I was experiencing it) I think I heard him say, “Don’t worry, you’re going to be great in there!”

It was a long walk to the dance from the parking lot. Periodically he’d look over at me and check my status asking, “How are you doing? Still breathing? Still doing o.k.?” Unfortunately, I was. So we continued on. It was all so new, I decided to set small goals for myself. That night I had just one goal: to walk in the door, dance one dance, and then I could leave and count the night a success. Progress.

But then we walked into the dance and I could have died. Lets just say it was a very eclectic crowd. The people were NOT who I expected to see. (Keep in mind the last time I’d gone to a dance was the 1980s when I was single the first time.) It wasn’t the 1980s anymore!

I stopped in the doorway and stared. I was in shock. Everywhere I looked, there they were: white haired grandpas, bald men, wrinkled men, heavy men; OLD men! My date looked at me, winked and said, “Yes…there’s a lot of heartache in this room!”

I guess that’s what you’d call it. But I was a bit more self-centered than my date. Instead of acknowledging all of the heartache that had to have been in the room, my thoughts were about me: “WHAT am I doing here? I don’t belong here! This is NOT me!” But I guess I did belong there and it was my new life. Although I hadn’t chosen my circumstances or my new life, although I’d never planned to be single, I was.

I guess in some ways, sometimes it still surprises me. To this day, every singles dance (all four of them) those are still the same thoughts I have each time I walk in to the room: “What am I doing here? I don’t belong here! This is NOT me!”

And then thanks to my rebound friend, I remember and think, “There’s a LOT of heartache in this room!” I know I’ve had more than my fair share in the time since my former spouse revealed His Ponzi scheme, crimes and everything else. So I try to make the night not about me, but about the heartache of others. I say yes to every man who asks me to dance, and I try to be friendly, polite, kind and interested in helping them have a good time for that song. (And I’ve met some fun women friends, too.)

But that night at the dance, my first date, we laughed. We danced. We had a lot of fun. And before I knew it, his cell phone rang. He looked at the caller and handed me the phone. “I think it’s for you,” he said.

“Mom? Where are you? What are you doing?” my oldest son sternly asked. (Who knew I had a teenage son in charge of my curfew?) I explained it was only 11:47 p.m., I was an adult in my 40s, and I was fine–I’d be home around midnight or a little after. My son laughed, said he was just doing to me what I had always done to him but that it too late for me to do that; it wasn’t almost midnight, it was almost 1 a.m.! At the same time my son told me that, I heard my date gasp and say, “Oh no! I’ve been in California on business all week–I forgot to reset the time on my phone. It’s actually…”

Too late. First date in 20 years and I had already blown my curfew! I was busted…by my teenager! CLEARLY, it wasn’t the 1980s anymore.

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A New Kind of Multi-tasking

Date: April 15, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

I guess you’d call it a new kind of multi-tasking.

The seizure and media frenzy continued into a third day, and while that was going on, I drove myself to the Arapahoe County Courthouse with my legal documents and my toddler in tow, paid $220, and filed for divorce.  (I filed for divorce as soon as the documents were ready. It had taken a few weeks to get everything together.)

I filed for divorce the same day my oldest son went on his first date: April 9, 2009. How sad is that?

I came home from that surreal experience I had never anticipated having and played with my little one outside although a photographer cased the house. My three-year-old had been stuck with me at the courthouse far too long and just wanted to enjoy the sunshine! (Amazing, that the sun still shines on our darkest days, isn’t it?) Our name and address had been published so many times that cars of all types, even mini vans, cruised slowly past our home all day and all night and while I played outside with my toddler. However, by the time it got dark there was no sign of any more media–just a slow stream of curious people continuing to cruise past our home.

The government had finished seizing our possessions.

I was depressed about my financial situation and a little stunned at all that had been taken. The U.S. Marshalls had seized A LOT MORE than we had expected. Many “little” things that weren’t specifically named on the warrant were also removed from our possession, for example, they even took brooms, snow shovels and our sleeping bags! To cheer me, my spouse gave me a “tour of consolation,” as He called it, to “reassure” me. We walked around and looked for things that had been left that I could use to rebuild a new life.

The next morning I checked the media reports just to know what I would be up against that day. Amazingly, we weren’t in the newspapers any more.  A baby had been murdered. The media had moved on to the next tragedy.

“Fame is a fickle food–Upon a shifting plate.” (Emily Dickinson)

Thank goodness for that.