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Bachelor #28: “Old” Blue Eyes

Date: July 29, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Blue eyes say, Love me or I die; black eyes say, Love me or I kill thee.” (Spanish Proverb)

I’ve never been a big “eyes” person. I think I was married to my former spouse before I noticed his eye color. But I noticed Bachelor #28′s beautiful blue eyes the moment I met him. With his dark hair, perfect white teeth and huge smile, you couldn’t miss them!

Bachelor #28 was a widower with one son. He was an absolutely nice, normal, friendly, outgoing, loving, wonderful man. He was also funny, successful, 6’5,” and handsome–everything I was looking for in lots of ways, especially the shallow ones! But we were different at the core; in our religious beliefs.

I was in over my head with Bachelor #28 for entirely different reasons than the Barracuda. “If you aren’t in over your head, how do you know how tall you are?” I knew I wasn’t “tall” enough for this one.

But Dr. Seuss had the solution. “You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose. You’re on your own. And you know what you know.”

I did know what to do. So I did it. I steered myself away from Bachelor #28. For my own good.

But those blue eyes.

“I picture my epitaph: ‘Here lies Paul Newman, who died a failure because his eyes turned brown.’” (Paul Newman)

May his blue eyes never “fail.” Bachelor #28.

However, I’ll miss his stories. He had one of the best I’ve heard.

We had some great and animated discussions comparing notes on who had been on dates with the most memorable people. I’ve held my own in those types of competitions (as evidenced by this blog) but I had to give Bachelor #28 the victory when he recounted a friend’s experience at dinner with a man she met online who showed up wearing a Superman cape.

Seriously.

He made an excuse about having just been somewhere where he had to wear it, yet he never removed it despite the fact his reason for it was over. He wore the cape throughout the entire meal and date. The woman was mortified.

Bachelor #28 verified it to be absolutely true, as well, when he told the story to another friend, a bartender in Park City, UT, whose face lit up with recognition. She, too, had met and seen the man (but never dated him) about town as well! She noticed him because he always wore a Superman cape!

I give.

I’ve met some memorable people, but no superheroes! (So far.)

Farewell, Bachelor #28.

Bachelors #22-26: The International Set

Date: July 28, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

My dad loved Hawaii.

And he did his best to instill the same passion for Polynesia in me. I absolutely loved the time I spent in the South Pacific growing up. I loved it so much, my heart literally hurt every time we had to leave and return to our home in Colorado.

Eventually, I was offered a piano scholarship to BYU-Hawaii and my dad’s only hesitation about letting me accept it was his fear that I would fall in love with an islander and my family would never see or hear from me again! He knew me well. I may well have done that, given the chance.

So it was kind of ironic that I married a man who hated the sun, Hawaii, the beach, the feeling of sand between his toes, and every other “island” thing that I loved. After I divorced it hit me. Although I would never have chosen divorce and never thought it would happen to me, what if I actually found a Polynesian man to love the second time around? (And then I realized the following, too: it may take someone from that far away to have not heard about me or the drama-filled ending of my marriage and previous life thanks to the criminal actions of my former spouse!)

Hmm. It was something to consider. So I had to laugh when I actually got asked out by what I’ll call “The International Set” of bachelors. Bachelors #22-26. Each hailed from some place far removed from Colorado and the fall out of the Ponzi scheme my former spouse perpetrated. I had a chance at the anonymity I had hoped for!

Unfortunately, Bachelor #22 was very nice, but not my type at all. Nothing serious ever developed. He was just a fun friend, from a foreign country, kind, who enjoyed hearing about my kids and dancing. I’ll remember him most for his constant smile. Adios, Bachelor #22!

Bachelor #23 was nice, but too short for me. (And I’m not talking he was less than my dream height of 6’2″. He was literally quite a bit shorter than me!) He was a widower with one arm and several children. He spoke Samoan fluently, but English…not so much! That was NEVER going anywhere. Tofa, Bachelor #23!

Bachelor #24 was a nice, older Samoan gentleman who loved young people and helping them achieve their dreams. He ran a foundation for troubled youth, and had a heart that was big enough to love the entire world, it seemed. (A very good quality.) Every time he asked me out on a date, he invited me to bring my children, too, even though he had never met them. (I didn’t bring my children, though. I wasn’t comfortable letting my children meet many of the men I dated.) A very nice man. However, in my eyes he was more like a father or a grandfather, not a man I had romantic interest in. That frustrated him and he quit asking me out as soon as he realized that. Tofa, Bachelor #24!

Bachlor #25 was another “senior” citizen…from Greece. He was nice, but it was clear to me from the moment I met him that there was never going to be a Big Fat Greek Wedding in my future. Ta leme, Bachelor #25!

Bachelor #26 was a genuine Kiwi–VERY handsome, tan, VERY cool, laid back, outdoorsy, loved to hike and walk (the muddier the better!) and had an accent to die for! Too bad we had very different goals and values. He was a fun and nice man but it finally came down to hei kona ra, Bachelor #26!

So the international set didn’t work out for me. But I haven’t given up.

“I’m a hopeless romantic. It’s disgusting. It really is. I’ve seen ‘While You Were Sleeping’, like, twenty times, and I still believe in the whole Prince Charming thing.” (Jennifer Love Hewitt)

I’m with her.

Bachelor #19: The Barracuda

Date: July 27, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“I think fish is nice, but then I think that rain is wet, so who am I to judge? (Douglas Adams)

The following is not going to sound like it’s coming from a woman in her 40s, college educated, who has seen her fair share of the world, but here it is:

If I was a baby guppy fish, Bachelor #19 was a barracuda!

Don’t get me wrong. Bachelor #19 was a law abiding citizen and a good person. I don’t want to give the mistaken impression that he was dangerous–not in the axe-murderer, serial killer sense of the word anyway. It’s just that he was handsome, several years older than me, and CLEARLY much more experienced and worldly-wise than I was.

We had different core beliefs, values and lifestyles. He had grandchildren, I had a four-year-old.

So I’m not sure what the attraction was for him. I never asked him. He just always said, “My gosh, you’re cute!” (But not in those exact words. I’ve edited his colorful way of expressing himself.) And he asked me out. A lot.

But he made me nervous.

He made me feel as if I was getting in way over my head. I think I was. But at least I was smart enough to sense that. So I took the cowardly approach and was “busy” every time he asked me out. I quit returning his calls.

“If you define cowardice as running away at the first sign of danger, screaming and tripping and begging for mercy, then yes, Mr. Brave man, I guess I’m a coward.” (Jack Handy)

The thing I remember most about Bachelor #19, aside from his colorful language and the “something” about him that made me nervous, was how patient he was to me in my cowardice. He didn’t get mean, rude or hostile. He continued to be kind, patient, complimentary and understanding of my hesitation. Until one day, he finally gave up and quit asking me out.

“Sometimes the questions are complicated and the answers are simple.” (Dr. Seuss)

Goodbye, Bachelor #19.

This fish isn’t biting.

Bachelor #17: The Importance of Voice and How You Use It

Date: July 26, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Women don’t want to hear what you think. Women want to hear what they think – in a deeper voice.” (Bill Cosby)

Voice. The biggest thing I can say about Bachelor #17 was that he had a very unusual voice. And it wasn’t deep.

He was tan with spiky hair. When I first met him, I thought it was white-blonde, but on closer inspection I realized it was gray! (Such is dating in your 40s, versus dating in the 1980s! Sometimes I still can’t get used to the older men…)

He loved Michael Jackson, American Idol, was a good dancer, had an outgoing and fun personality, drank rootbeer by the gallon and was a successful businessman. But he paid the price for his success in the hours he worked. Although we went out places, he preferred “at home” dates so he could take phone calls and be accessible to his clients. And while he was a very nice man, I would say he could best be described as a “mama’s boy;” not very tough emotionally, used to being catered to and taken care of; prone to whining.

Although I didn’t love his devotion to his job and I tried to overlook the whining, things fell apart on the first family date–he brought his daughter and had me bring my two youngest sons. It was a later evening activity, my boys began the evening tired, and it went downhill from there! In fact, I spent most of the evening out in the foyer with my youngest who just wanted to go home and didn’t really care about the man providing the evening’s entertainment.

The family date wasn’t a huge success. My children felt nothing toward the man, and he didn’t want the challenge of a four-year-old. (He had married later in life, stayed married less than 10 years, and had one well-behaved, mature-for-her-age daughter. Need I explain further?)

The icing on the cake of the evening, however, was one distracting fact: his zipper was down all night long. It just added to everything about the evening that was a failure for me. (Those who know me best know what a problem THAT is for me!)

That night was our last date.

What I didn’t know was that I should have been thanking my boys for that.

A few days after that “kids included” date with a nearly 50-year-old man who forgot to zip his pants, I happened to be listening to the news (a very rare occurrence for me since becoming the subject of too many broadcasts back in 2009) and heard the radio station announce a local man was suing a health club because of harassment he received from other patrons of the club as he exercised. A commercial came on and I wondered what type of adult would be made fun of as he exercised, what type of person would perceive he was being made fun of while he exercised, and what type of person would sue over that.

I should have known.

The injured man came on air when the commercial ended and there was no mistaking that voice. That very unusual voice. The high voice of a man prone to whining. Bachelor #17!

I gave silent thanks to my boys for their behavior.

I need someone strong. I need someone who doesn’t care what people think. I need someone who can roll with the unexpected events in life, rise above the challenges and laugh in spite of it all. I need someone who doesn’t whine. And the last thing I want or need is to be involved with someone seeking negative publicity! I had enough of that in 2009! (Besides, it’s going to take someone with all of the above qualities to love me and accept the past I bring with me to any relationship–my baggage not of my creation.)

Goodbye Bachelor #17. I hope your court case works out for you–or at the very least, that you’re able to exercise, and live, in peace! That means no whining.

“It takes a genius to whine appealingly.” (F. Scott Fitzgerald)

I have yet to meet a genius.

New Year’s Eve 2009

Date: July 19, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

Earlier this month marked the one year anniversary of the day my new and unexpected single life officially, legally, began.

It has been quite a year!

All of the fireworks this month reminded me of the last fireworks I experienced–New Year’s Eve 2009. My first New Year’s Eve as a single woman.

I spent it with one of the bachelor’s I’ve already written about. And as optimistic as I like to think I am, I probably felt a little pessimistic that night too. “An optimist stays up until midnight to see the new year in. A pessimist stays up to make sure the old year leaves.” (Bill Vaughan) That was me that night.

“Drop the last year into the silent limbo of the past. Let it go, for it was imperfect, and thank God that it can go.” (Brooks Atkinson) That was exactly how I felt. That was exactly what I did.

My New Year’s Eve involved dinner, dancing…and fireworks. And as far as “firsts” go, it wasn’t too bad.

But at midnight, as the fireworks exploded and I stood watching them light up the Salt Lake City skyline, I felt something unexpected.

Each time a firework exploded into a colorful shower of sparks and light, I felt the “thunder” of it in my chest and saw a moment from 2009 flash before my eyes: I was sitting with Shawn Merriman at the table as he told me of his crimes, pending prison sentence, that I was left alone and with nothing to raise our four children and then, BOOM! That moment was gone. I was watching my children’s world shatter, seeing their shocked expressions, tears and grief, wondering how I would survive the moment I was present as my children’s hearts were broken and their childhood illusions were shattered and then, BOOM! That moment was gone. I was driving away from my entire life, the only life I’d ever known as an adult into a completely unknown life in Utah, wondering how my heart would ever heal and then, BOOM! That moment was gone.

The flashbacks continued for several minutes. Each explosion of light blasted away a hard experience from 2009; a piece of pain from the previous year. Pain I didn’t even know was mine, I’d become so accustomed to living with it.

Burdens I hadn’t even known I’d been carrying were lifted. I was stunned at how good it felt to see, hear and feel it all going away. It was healing.

So aside from the marriage proposal I got earlier that day (#2, if anyone’s counting!) that is what I remember most about New Year’s 2009. The fireworks. What they represented and how they felt to me.

Life was getting better every day and I knew that someday, every day would be a celebration again. That my children and I would continue on the path to happiness and joy in our new and unexpected life.

Just as the old moments had passed with each firework that exploded, new moments and memories were taking their place: my three-year-old taking off on his bike sans training wheels down our new Utah street, the family dance party my middle son was standing on a bench busting his best disco-karate moves and the bench shattered beneath him (he was ok, but we all got a huge laugh out of the whole adventure–and the first time I’ve ever lost a piece of furniture to a child’s antics), our first Christmas as a new family unit, our “group hugs,” the family drives, evenings in the canyon, and even our first family vacation.

“Everything is created from moment to moment, always new. Like fireworks, this universe is a celebration and you are the spectator contemplating the eternal Fourth of July of your absolute splendor.” (Francis Lucille)

You just have to keep living.

Bachelor #16: The Doctor Is In (Town)

Date: July 15, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

I met Bachelor #16 online. He was a doctor living in Northern Utah. He was a few years younger than me and seemed quite nice and normal–other than the fact he was willing to drive four hours just to go to dinner with me!

He was also the first man I dated that I tested out the whole “don’t tell every detail of your story, just one aspect of it” tactic on. And to my amazement, it worked! I told just one reason I had divorced when asked my story, it was comparable to his, and the conversation turned to other things without me having to reveal every aspect of my marriage that had ended in disaster.

But wouldn’t you know it, and as the evening progressed, the doctor wanted to know a lot more about my children. Specifically, if their father paid child support and exactly how often they saw him or spent time with him. I don’t recall that I’d ever been asked that before, so Bachelor #14 had never prepped me about what to say about that and sometimes I’m not so quick-thinking on my feet! That darn deer-caught-in-headlights look I’ve gotten so good at was evident in my face.

I didn’t know what to say, so I told the truth. I answered honestly: their father wasn’t employed and he lived in another state which made regular contact impossible due to his situation and lack of funds, my financial situation and my work schedule. I told him my children had contact with him through letters and twice-monthly phone calls which I paid for.

Bachelor #16 couldn’t believe that. It bothered him so much that through the rest of the evening he kept coming back to that and asking more questions about my children’s father, his child support, and their contact with him. I answered the questions, but offered no details.

To my surprise, his concern seemed to have less to do with my former spouse and more to do with my mothering: what kind of mother would stand for that? What kind of mother would allow that? What kind of mother would let that be the extent of a father’s involvement? What kind of mother would support such a dysfunctional family situation? He warned me of potential ramifications in later years as a result of my tolerance for an absentee father.

There is nothing I could say to that. He may well be right, although I’ve been working since 2009 when our unexpected life began, and I’ll continue to be working my children’s entire lives, to prevent that. You have to make the best of what you’ve got. And in that regard, I admit, I don’t have much. I’m simply doing the best I can and then relying on others (friends, family, neighbors and many good men) to make up the difference for my children until someone, someday, becomes their father.

Bachelor #16 was also upfront about what he wanted from a woman: more children. I had to be honest about that, too, and tell him I was unable to accommodate that plan.

As for me, I discovered Bachelor #16 wasn’t very close to his mother or siblings, he touched feet all day long (turns out he was a podiatrist), and neither of those things worked for me. Clearly there was no magic.

“That’s the thing with magic. You’ve got to know it’s still here, all around us, or it just stays invisible for you.” (Charles de Lint)

So long, Bachelor #16.

Not Fair

Date: July 14, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

I met an old friend and his wife for lunch a few months ago. We hadn’t seen each other in person since 1989 but he was exactly the same–same good person, same nice guy, same handsome man (now a husband and father), same terrific sense of humor. In some ways, he hasn’t changed a bit! Then he smiled and I saw something was different.

He had gotten braces. As the daughter of an orthodontist, I had to acknowledge them. He made a joke about them–something about a mid-life crisis and how it wasn’t fair.

THAT made me laugh. I mean, what IS fair?

I corrected him, “No, what’s NOT fair is having to be single again after having four children! What’s NOT fair is having to date when the wrinkles are showing!” But I felt his pain. I was secretly fixing my own shifting teeth with Invisalign at night. The things we do mid-life.

What’s also NOT fair is having to repeat some teenage experiences–like dating and battling acne at the same time! That was an experience I always thought was best left in the 1980s and can you believe my good fortune? Forty-two years old and getting some acne again? I consulted my dermatologist about it. I wanted him to “magically” make it stop and he told me he couldn’t do anything, that the acne was most likely caused by hormones. Probably the “old age” kind of hormones, knowing MY luck!

No, life isn’t fair. Especially the unexpected life. But I’m thankful I’ve got one. Each new day is unexpected. Each new experience (and challenge) a blessing.

Something I Haven’t Gotten Used To

Date: July 11, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“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.