Living Happily Ever After
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Destiny, Serendipity…or Chance?

Date: September 13, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

I finally had the age issue under control but had yet to utter the two words that would change everything and take my unexpected life in a completely different and unexpected direction. Verbalizing those two words made me nervous. I continued to hold out.

One night I asked Bachelor #5 how he was so calm about everything.” Nothing seemed to phase him–not my former spouse residing in jail, not four additional children (including a four-year-old), not my devastated financial situation, not the potential challenge of blending two families. He was always patient, calm and optimistic around me and THAT gave me confidence, courage and hope. Although I try to be optimistic, there is a part of me that worries. I needed to know why Bachelor #5 didn’t seem to be worried. He shared his reason with me.

He told me he didn’t know how he met me! (Duh. Even I knew the answer to that one: online.) He clarified, “No. You were NOTHING I was looking for. I don’t know how I found you.” And THAT is why he wasn’t worried? That screams romance like nothing else. You can imagine how well that went over with me so he hurriedly explained the dating philosophy he had lived by since his divorce.

Because the trend was that men date down a decade, and he’d never been a fan or follower of fads, he intentionally looked for women 48 years and older; women his age. (He had also been married to someone older than him the first time.) Because his children were mostly raised, he looked for women whose children were grown. He also looked for a singer or an actress, someone who would understand his passion to participate in theater and possibly join him there. (In case anyone is keeping track, I am none of those things!)

When I asked him if I had met ANY of his criteria, he said yes, “You lived in Utah County. I would not have dated you if you hadn’t lived in Utah County.”

Of all criteria a man could judge by, I’d never anticipated that one. Not ever. (Of course, I’m not from Utah. And over the past year, I have seen the passion many residents feel for their great state–some of which even extends to Utah County residents who love it so much they wouldn’t consider living anywhere else.) After everything I’d ever imagined being judged for, height, weight, outer beauty, inner beauty, education, career, intelligence, etc…I had simply been the right location! I finally get why real estate agents think location is everything. Lol. I guess sometimes it is, even in dating!

Ironically, I had tried so hard to live elsewhere. When thrust into my unexpected life I had tried my utmost to stay in Colorado but even a woman as dense as I can be finally had to admit that for some reason, I was supposed to live in Utah. EVERY thing had worked out for me to live in Utah. But when I had given in to the idea of living in Utah, my plan had been to live in Salt Lake City. And when I couldn’t get that to work out, I had planned to live in several other Salt Lake-area locations, but nothing had worked out for me anywhere but in Utah County. So I ended up in Utah County, commuting to work, but I knew I was where I was supposed to be–for whatever reason. I had assumed it must have been for my children, and maybe it was. But I’d never stopped to think it might also be the best place for me.

So when Bachelor #5 told me the one criteria I fit, I had to laugh. Only I knew that I had tried so hard to work out so many living situations OTHER than Utah County!

Bachelor #5 said he logged on to the singles site one night, input his criteria, and although I shouldn’t have been a match, there I was on his computer. My profile should never have been there, there wasn’t much about my profile that fit the criteria he was looking for: I wasn’t the right age, I had children at home (and one of them was young!), I wasn’t a singer or a performer, but he read my bio anyway and said when he had finished reading, none of his criteria mattered any more. He contacted me, got to know me, eventually asked me out, met my children, and the rest of the story…is still unfolding!

He told me, “All I can tell you is that I feel so good about everything, so at peace with everything, I’m excited to be a part of it all. And I feel very strongly we didn’t find each other on our own. There is no logical way to explain how we found each other; we never should have found each other; we couldn’t have found each other without ‘help’.”

Maybe he was right. I was attending singles activities sometimes (Sunday night meetings and dances, on occasion) but Bachelor #5 NEVER participated in them, so I never would have met him without some help from somewhere. He was online, but I was nothing he was searching for; he shouldn’t have found me based on his search criteria. Add to that, he and I were each online just one month and our one month participation on the same site, out of all the sites there were to choose from, just happened to overlap. Maybe we had been “helped” in finding each other.

Or maybe it was destiny. “Destiny itself is like a wonderful wide tapestry in which every thread is guided by an unspeakably tender hand, placed beside another thread and held and carried by a hundred others.” (Rainer Maria Rilke)

Or serendipity. “Serendipity. Look for something, find something else, and realize that what you’ve found is more suited to your needs than what you thought you were looking for.” (Lawrence Block)

Or chance. “Chance is perhaps the pseudonym of God when he does not wish to sign his work.” (Anatole France)

Call it whatever you want–serendipity, destiny, chance, a miracle, a “tender mercy.”

But I began to believe I was on the right path to reach my fairy tale after all. It’s got all the makings of one, even from the very beginning. The only thing missing was “It’s Time.”

The two words Bachelor #5 was waiting to hear.

Want It More Than You Fear It

Date: September 10, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Decide that you want it more than you are afraid of it.” (Bill Cosby)

I had a hard time concentrating on reaching a decision. I had some concerns, and until I resolved my concerns, I didn’t feel I could make a decision or trust the decision I made.

I couldn’t believe my concerns.

One of the biggest devastations of my divorce was my belief that I’d had my chance at love, marriage and a whole and complete family, that no one would ever want me again, and that I was destined to remain alone the rest of my life. Yet less than a year after the tragic demise of my marriage and family, I had the opportunity to remarry a very good man who loved me and my children and was willing to take all of us on AND my children loved him. Sounds pretty ideal, especially for a second marriage, doesn’t it?

Yet all of THAT was the problem…for me!

I kept thinking there had to be something false, or flawed, in the opportunity or the man; there had to be something I wasn’t seeing.

I had an issue with the timing. It had happened so “fast.” Less than a year after everything fell apart, it had all come together again. Who has that happen to them? How could I go from such horror and devastation to such a dream, and so quickly?

I expressed this concern to a friend who said, “Andrea, someone like YOU has that happen to them. You lost everything unexpectedly in one day, yet you have risen above hatred, speculation and gossip and have carried on, you’ve sought to remain faithful, you’re doing your best for your children, and you can expect to be blessed for all of that.” She added, “Besides, if you consider how long you’ve actually waited to have a real marriage to the type of man you always thought you were married to…I wouldn’t say it’s fast at all. How long have you been waiting for that?”

Since 1989. Over 20 years.

And suddenly I realized that despite what others might think (those who don’t really know me, those who might judge my opportunity as “too fast” or “too soon”) I knew how long I’d been waiting. My entire adult life. Issue resolved.

I also had a problem with the fact that after all I’d been through, I just “happened to land” in a great situation. My sister handled that one for me. She said, “I have a problem with the fact you think you just ‘landed’ in this great situation. Do you have any idea how many people have worried about you and prayed for you, day in and day out, for the past YEAR? Do you have ANY idea? I have a problem with the fact you seem to think it was your good fortune, chance, or ‘luck’ that brought this to you.”

I instantly humbled myself regarding that one. She was right. I may have had my detractors, but I had also been very blessed with more than my fair share of friends who loved me, cared about me, and did everything they could to help me–including praying for me. That issue was resolved then and there, too.

My final issue concerned the availability of Bachelor #5. If he was so wonderful, WHY was he still around and still single? My sister said, “Maybe he’s still single because he was prepared, and saved, for you. With your past and all you and your children have been through, you couldn’t end up with just anyone, you know.”

I couldn’t argue with that.

So in the end, I quit making excuses. I quit trying to find everything WRONG with Bachelor #5 and the situation. I quit looking for every possible reason not to remarry. I quit hiding behind my indecision.

I decided that I wanted it more than I was afraid of it.

I chose to turn the page of my life’s story and continue on into the new chapter of the fairy tale of my life that I hoped would lead to the happily ever after ending I’d never given up on, that I’d believed in and had sought since I was a little girl. After all of that analyzing, thinking, pondering, worrying and indecision I threw it all out the window and instead, made a choice with my heart.

In the end, it came down to the simplest of concepts and principles that I already knew and had always tried to live by: Faith; Hope; Love; Trust; Commitment.

It came down to this: “Decide that you want it more than you are afraid of it.” (Bill Cosby)

I made my decision. Although it had taken me awhile to get there, I loved Bachelor #5 like I didn’t remember ever loving anyone before. So…

Hey-hey-hey, Bachelor #5! It’s time.

I just needed to tell him that.

An Impulse

Date: August 5, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

In December of 2009, I was checking my email before heading to the office when I had an unexpected thought.

“You should find out your medical history. As the sole parent and support of your four children, you need to know all you can to make sure you’re here for your children as long as you can be. How irresponsible of you if there is something you should know that might help you (or save your life) and you don’t bother to at least TRY to discover it!”

I had a brief debate with myself.

I had been adopted as an infant; blessed with wonderful parents and an amazing family. My childhood was fairy tale-esque…until my dad died unexpectedly in a plane crash when I was a teenager, and the family I grew up in entered its unexpected life. It was another riches to rags story, in a way, but it prepared me better than I could have imagined for real life, especially for the the huge, terrible situation I would face as an adult.

My debate: was it right to disrupt someone else’s life just for a chance at obtaining a medical history for me?

But because if anything happens to me my four children will be orphaned until their other parent is released from his incarceration, I pushed the question of right or wrong out of my mind. I owed it to my children to at least try to find something out.

But how?

Although I was adopted in the 1960s, and adoptions were very private and secretive back then, I had an unusual situtation. Mine was private. And thanks to my mom, I had more information than most adopted children at the time.

My parents had been married nearly five years and were unable to have children. They had checked into adoption and even had the chance to adopt a baby boy prior to my birth, but when they went to see the baby my mom didn’t have a good feeling about it. She felt that baby wasn’t her baby. So she walked away from the opportunity to get the baby she had dreamed of.

In the meantime, my dad graduated from dental school at Marquette University in Wisconsin, moved to Phoenix, AZ, and opened a dental practice–in the course of three weeks. And then, unexpectedly, they got a phone call about me. Some friends of theirs from dental school had graduated ahead of them and moved to Southern California to practice dentistry. They became acquainted with an obstetrician, and at a dinner party, the doctor told them of a good, talented, beautiful woman who was placing a baby for adoption–and of his quest to find a good family for the baby. The doctor said he and his wife thought so highly of the woman that they’d considered taking the baby themselves, but in the end, decided they were too close to the situation.

My parents’ friends said, “We know someone to adopt that baby!” and put my parents in touch with the doctor. And within that same three week time period of major life changes, unexpectedly my parents were in the car driving to California to pick me up from the hospital. My mom said she walked into the hospital, heard a baby cry, and knew instantly it was her baby. She asked a nurse if it was her baby crying, and the nurse confirmed it. (I had just been given my PKU test.)

While waiting for my discharge, my mom asked the nurses everything she could about my birth mother. They told her the woman’s name, where she attended college, a general description of her appearance, and what they knew of her talents (that she was smart, athletic, and a dancer.) My mom committed it all to memory and I grew up knowing all of the information my mom had been able to uncover.

My parents took me home from the hospital when I was two days old–with a day at Disneyland before driving back to Arizona!

I grew up feeling very special because I had been adopted. In fact, I felt bad for children who hadn’t had that opportunity and privilege. I was happy, whole and complete. I had amazing parents and four siblings (all adopted after me). So although my mom always offered to help me find my birth mother if I had the need, I didn’t really feel the need for that. I had everything, and more, that I needed. I was happy. And grateful every day for adoption and the family I was blessed with.

As the only tall, blonde member of my family however, (everyone else, including my parents, is short and dark haired) if I had any unfulfilled desire relating to my adoption it was simply a curiosity about who, if anyone, I looked like. But seeing if I resembled another person on the planet wasn’t worth the risk of rejection OR disrupting someone else’s life to satisfy a question like that. So that’s as far as I ever went in the quest for a birth mother.

I looked so different from the rest of my immediate family, though, that in college when they came to visit me, a boy friend met them and said, “I bet you forgot to tell Andrea she’s adopted, didn’t you?” My mom replied, “No, I’m pretty sure I told her!” and he blushed like college men usually don’t–never dreaming I actually had been adopted. We all had a good laugh over that one!

Thanks to my mom’s detective skills at the hospital prior to taking me home, we had quite a bit of information about my birth mother. My mom discovered she and my parents had attended the same university in Utah, so one year, while visiting my dad’s younger sister in Salt Lake City, we took a peek at my aunt’s college yearbooks and found my birth mother. I then knew what she looked like.

Later, when I was married, I met a friend who was very curious about the whole process of adoption. She asked me about my story and, small world, found out her parents had gone to college with my birth mother! Her parents cut up their yearbooks and sent me every picture they had of my birth mother so not only had I seen what she looked like, I had pictures too.

The university produced an alumni directory listing names, addresses and brief bios of its graduates. Thanks to that, my mom and I knew my birth mother’s address too! NOT very typical of a private adoption situation that took place in the 1960s, for sure.

And then “suddenly” I felt the need to obtain my medical history for the sake of my children.

I decided that if I’d given a child up for adoption and if I wanted to be found (or was open to being found) I would put my name out there everywhere I could think of. Impulsively, I typed the name of my birth mother into Facebook. It was the only directory I knew of to begin the search. Up she popped. Full name, picture and everything. There was no mistaking it was her.

I wasn’t expecting it to be that easy or to happen that fast.

Now what?

What would you do?

You Can’t Be Single In Utah Without…

Date: June 16, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

I’ll cut to the chase.

Since being single for the second time, I’ve learned a lot about myself. For one, I’ve realized I’m not a facial hair kind of gal. Too bad you can’t be a single male in Utah without…a goatee!

My preference for a smooth shave is a bit of a problem for me; because 90% of the men I’ve met and dated have had facial hair of some type, most a goatee. The first time I was single (in the 80s) I think I dated two guys with mustaches. And it didn’t work for me. At the time, I thought I just wasn’t interested in the guys. But now I realize it must have been the facial hair!

“You know, with that goatee, you kinda look like Satan.” (Joey, to Chandler, on “Friends”)

Joey wasn’t that far off! lol. I just think nothing makes a man look older than gray facial hair. And at my age, most men have that. Another reason to sport a clean-shaven face, in my age-paranoid opinion!

But, facial hair or not, I stay in the game. Because I’m an optimist. Although I was deceived by my husband in the biggest and unexpected ways for nearly two decades, and terribly betrayed in the other ones before it was over, I’m still looking for my “fairy tale” ending. My happy ending. Call me crazy, but I’m holding out for it! I just hope it doesn’t come attached to a goatee.

Until then, “Men are my hobby, if I ever got married I’d have to give it up.” (Mae West)

I look forward to giving up that hobby someday. But I won’t miss the…goatees!