Living Happily Ever After
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The Speech, Part III

Date: March 6, 2014  Author: Andrea Merriman

Long story short, within days U.S. Marshalls descended on my home and inventoried my possessions, anything of value, for seizure. Victims contacted the media. U.S. attorneys broke the news and my home was soon surrounded with media satellite trucks from across the country, shining spotlights on my home and into my windows night and day, filming every move, looking in my windows, knocking on my door.

Victims appeared at my home and screamed and yelled the worst of things at me and my children for the things my husband had done. One victim loaded a gun and made it all the way to my front door, prepared to blow someone away, before changing his mind. Federal agents seized everything of value. Hate mail came from across the country. And public speculation ran rampant–even about me. Of course I had to have know, of course I was probably involved; you name it, if it was hostile, hateful, untrue or anything of that nature…someone thought it and shared it with the world via the media. Victims even entered my home one night and terrorized my teenage daughter.

I had a matter of weeks to put together a life for my children and I. Thankfully, I found a job. (It didn’t cover all of our living expenses, but at least it was something!) I divorced my husband–I had no money, so I wrote my own divorce to the best of my ability and with the help of a friend, and went to court to have it finalized.

My ex-husband was taken into custody and eventually sentenced to 12 1/2 years in prison. And I began to claw and crawl my way out of the deepest, darkest, blackest pit of destruction and despair I could never have imagined. Lets just say it’s not quite the happily ever after I EVER dreamed of as a young girl (or at any time of my life, for that matter!)

But I was raised on fairy tales. I still enjoy them! I believe in happy endings and that a happily ever after is possible for everyone, regardless of their challenges.

So today I’d like to share my formula for HAPLY EVR AFTR (™), courtesy of my unexpected life. It comes not from a fairy godmother, but from living through and recovering from an indescribable horror–we all have one, don’t we?

It worked for me. And it can work for you, too!

(Sorry to drag this on, but tune in again tomorrow and in the coming days for the good stuff–HAPLY EVR AFTR!)

“That’s when the great stuff happens…” (Carol Kane)

The Speech, Part II

Date: March 5, 2014  Author: Andrea Merriman

(The next part is my story in a nutshell. I was speaking to a large conference of women I hadn’t met yet so I had to preface my remarks with my story. Feel free to skip if you already know me!)

I had been a pretty good girl…raised on fairy tales. I believed in happily every after. I grew up Colorado. I graduated from high school, attended college and married a charming, romantic and “good” man who, ironically, and as part of his marriage proposal, pledged his loyalty to me and our future. The day of my college graduation we returned to Colorado and began our life. We began our careers, we began our family. I focused my efforts on our home and family, we eventually had four children, and life was good. SO GOOD.

It was a life of family and faith. We loved each other, we went to church together, we prayed together, we served in the community as well, and as my husband became more and more successful in his career, we upgraded our home, our cars and our lifestyle. We enjoyed making family memories and traveling together. We got along well, we laughed and had fun together, we served and helped others. I thought we were on track for eternity.

Believe it or not, I had watched our investments and savings grow over the 20 years we’d been married, working hard (I thought) and saving…and I also thought I had 10 MILLION DOLLARS–thanks to compounding interest:) So on March 17, 2009, St. Patrick’s Day, my biggest worry was making sure everyone wore green, felt festive (I’d tried to do my part to contribute to that with green breakfast and a green dinner) and I took pictures of everyone in their leprechaun finery. What I didn’t know, was that I was documenting my family and the life I’d dreamed of and had worked so hard to create during my 20-years-of-happy marriage, in photos, for the last time.

At the end of the day, we went to bed. I slept–the last night I slept without anything to haunt me or give my nightmares about. And the next day, my husband shattered my world. March 18, 2009. He asked to meet me, told me he’d hoped to spend time with me.

Then he sat across from me, folded his hands and paused. And then, in a voice as calm and unemotional as I’d ever witnessed–NOTHING about his performance tipped me off as to what was about to happen, said, “My company, Market Street Advisors, is a sham.” One simple sentence, and the complicated web of choices, actions, and decisions of ONE person, the man I’d known since 1988 but apparently hadn’t known at all, shattered my world.

My first thought (always a party or holiday thought at that stage of my life!) was, “Is this an early April Fool’s joke? Doesn’t he remember yesterday was only St. Patrick’s Day?” And suddenly, despite my education and knowledge of English and vocabulary, I didn’t understand the world “sham.” He explained, “My company isn’t real. It’s a sham and has been from the very beginning. I’ve been running a Ponzi scheme for the past 16 years.”

I’d heard the term Ponzi scheme, but I didn’t know what a Ponzi scheme actually was. I’d heard the name Bernie Madoff, I knew he had done something illegal and I knew a lot of people were mad at him, but I didn’t understand what it was that he, or my spouse, had done. I got the condensed version. What I was told left me in complete and utter shock. But it didn’t stop there.

My husband told me he had hired an attorney, that he had turned himself in to government authorities and to our church leaders, and that they had all given him until that morning to tell me. He told me he would be going to prison and getting excommunicated from our church. He told me everything had been seized. He told me I would be left alone to raise our children. And he told me I needed to hire an attorney right away–but he’d maxed out all of our credit cards paying for his.

I, who had never cheated in school; who had never stolen so much as a grape from the grocery store without paying for it; who had always tried to live a life of honesty and integrity–wouldn’t even let myself indulge in “white lies”…needed an attorney? I was completely innocent! Like his employees, clients, family, friends and our church leaders, I’d never had a clue that he was anything but the honest, upright, family man and successful businessman he had always portrayed himself to be.

I had NO IDEA he’d been living a secret and double life.

All I could think of was that my parents were dead, I was left with NOTHING (no house, no cars, no food, no life, no savings, no job, no husband–TOTALLY alone in the world), I had four children who needed to eat, and I couldn’t get that movie “The Fugitive” out of my mind: the innocent husband, a good man, a doctor, who was convicted of killing his wife and imprisoned for something he hadn’t done and that he had no knowledge of. HOW could this be happening to ME?

I was shocked. I was stunned. I was confused. I was scared. I was devastated. And at the same time, I didn’t know what I thought or felt. All I knew was that I had been thrown out of an airplane…without a parachute. And as shocked as I was, for some reason, I had the presence of mind to ask, “Is that everything?”

Yet despite everything, I was not prepared for his response: No. After which he disclosed he had also betrayed me in the most intimate ways as well. And with that admission, he began to sob. To cry harder than I’d ever seen any man cry. And that’s when I knew it was real. It wasn’t early April Fool’s. It was some sick joke that everyone but me found funny. It was real.

As wave after wave of shock and grief washed over me, I didn’t know what to do. He had become an instant and literal stranger, yet on the other hand, I was still the happily married wife who, as I rushed to get up and to get away from him, actually felt guilty that I was abandoning him in a time of need. Despite my shock, I actually had the presence of mind to apologize for leaving him: “I’m sorry, but I have to get out of here.”

And I left. I jumped in my car and drove away, not knowing where to go, knowing no one could help me. I made it about 1/10 of a mile before I was crying so hard I couldn’t see anything and had to pull over so I didn’t accidentally hurt someone or myself!

I called my best friend. She was stunned, crying, as well and advised me to go to the bank and try to get some money so I could at least feed my children. I raced to the banks, got some cash, and eventually returned home because I didn’t know what else to do or where to go.

My husband’s attorney called. He apologized for the day I was having (he’d known it was coming–seems like everyone but me knew it was coming!), told me, again, that I’d need an attorney, and then said, “And whatever you do, don’t go near a bank. Don’t touch any of your bank accounts. Don’t try to access any money!” he warned.

Are you starting to tell I just am not cut out for the criminal life? My instincts are all wrong! The very FIRST thing I had done, the only thing, was to go to a bank and touch some money!

I was going to prison for sure, wasn’t I?

“There are many times when a woman will ask another girl friend how she likes her new hat. She will reply, ‘Fine.’ but slap her hands to her forehead the minute the girl leaves to yipe, ‘What a horror!’” (Marilyn Monroe)

Yes, I wish that’s all my horror entailed. Tune in tomorrow for the rest of the condensed version of my horror.

 

An Opportunity

Date: September 21, 2012  Author: Andrea Merriman

Life, regardless of the unexpected circumstances you find yourself in, is a constant reminder of one important principle: hang in there. And nowhere am I reminded of this more than in my life as “my dad’s wife,” aka. stepmother, to mostly grown children. So for every woman married to a man who has children from another mother, this post’s for you.

Hang in there.

Acknowledge that, according to experts and professionals, the role of “stepmother” is the most difficult of all positions in life. So whether everything related to your opportunity (and it is exactly that, an opportunity) is a dream come true, whether it’s a work in progress, or whether it’s a situation in need of MUCH work and progress, hang in there! Because in this as in everything else in life, if you hang in there long enough and do everything you can to triumph, I know you eventually will. You’ll also learn important things and help others learn things along the way, too!

Case in point: the other day, my husband and I were reading a version of the story of Snow White to our youngest when, at the story’s completion, my husband looked at me and said, “Wow, I never knew that!”

“Never knew what?” I asked.

“That the wicked queen who hated Snow White and tried to kill her had been married to Snow White’s dad…” my husband began, but didn’t quite dare finish. “And…was…her…stepmother.”

Unfortunately, some of us haven’t had the luxury of remaining so blissfully ignorant. Not only was I raised on fairy tales and consider myself somewhat expert in their storylines, I am reminded of the whole stepmother thing at even the most unexpected times. Like last month.

My husband’s birthday was approaching so I texted his children: “You are all invited to dinner to celebrate your dad’s birthday. He will be thrilled to see you. Please let me know if you can come so I can plan the food,” and I listed the date and time. Within seconds, I got a response from our married son, “Yes! We will be there!”

I didn’t hear back from two of the children, which I’ve learned is typical; one never responds, but always attends and is cheerful and happy to be there, and the other usually responds at some point prior to the event, hasn’t missed a special dinner yet and is friendly and talkative while there. I’m grateful for their willingness to participate in family things.

The final response, from another, came a minute or two later: “Who is this???”

Lets just say that was the kindest and most respectful of the texts that followed from that particular child, and ALL the result of a simple invitation to dinner and dessert! It’s not like I was texting to hire a hit man (I mean, woodsman!) or to express a willingness to provide a poison comb or apple—just a simple home-cooked meal I’ve been told is in short supply in the kid’s life and I was happy to provide.

Such is the life of “a dad’s wife.” Franklin D. Roosevelt had some great advice for that position:  ”When you come to the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on.” (Franklin D. Roosevelt) That’s my plan, and I recommend it—hanging on—to everyone in any position or unexpected life situation.

Because maybe someday the cuisine you prepare will be so delicious and so memorable that everyone who partakes of it will at least remember who prepared it, cooked it, served it, hosted it, paid for it, cleaned up after it, and never asked for anything in return. And if not, if that day never comes, imagine the amazing culinary talents you’ll have developed thanks to your opportunity. And that’s exactly what it is. An opportunity—to hang in there AND to forgive. Hmmm…sounds a lot like life itself.

“After a good dinner one can forgive anybody, even one’s own relations.” (Oscar Wilde)

Too Late

Date: March 14, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“At a formal dinner party, the person nearest death should always be seated closest to the bathroom.” (George Carlin)

Or the person who got dumped. Just in case she needs to throw up.

While everyone dished food onto their plates and sat down to eat dinner, I discreetly went up to my bathroom and threw up! I did not want to go down to dinner, but I also didn’t want anyone to know anything was amiss. So I returned to the table, put a small amount of food on my plate, took one bite, tried to swallow and was quickly back upstairs for a second time.

As I lay on my bathroom floor, willing myself to feel better so I could rejoin the group and pretend everything was normal, I only had one thought: How am I going to live without him?

I couldn’t remember ever thinking that about a man before.

When I got engaged for the first time (in 1989) my aunt called to congratulate me and asked, “Tell me, can you live without him?” and my arrogant, youthful pride led me to respond, “Absolutely. I survived my dad dying. I can live without anyone.” And I thought I could. I married, and was happily married, for 20 years until Shawn Merriman revealed his Ponzi scheme, crimes and other betrayals which resulted in our divorce. But honestly, looking back at the time my life was collapsing in 2009, I remember being appalled at what my former husband had done, being terrified of government agents and prison for him and wondering how my children and I would live, but I don’t remember wondering how I would live without HIM. (Maybe His misdeeds, betrayals, and the selfishness, pride and greed that led to such overwhelming destruction took care of any feelings like that? Or maybe it’s because I feel differently about #5 than any other man I’ve ever known?)

Regardless, I lay on my bathroom floor crying, wondering how I was going to live without #5, knowing I’d come to the realization of how I truly felt about him WAY TOO LATE. He had dumped me. And I couldn’t even bear to think about what it was going to do to my kids, especially my youngest, who had just lost another “daddy” before he even started kindergarten.

“In kindergarten that used to be my job, to tell them fairytales. I liked Hans Christian Andersen, and the Grimm fairy tales, all the classic fairy tales.” (Francis Ford Coppola)

Glimpse…From The Couch

Date: November 3, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman
“Have you ever gotten the feeling that you aren’t completely embarrassed yet, but you glimpse tomorrow’s embarrassment?” (Tom Cruise) 

I remember Tom’s couch jumping and the criticism he endured because of it. I just never imagined I’d feel like he had to have felt at some point in my life–publicly humiliated. And then my unexpected life hit.

Not only was I shocked at what was revealed, not only was I scrambling to preserve what I could from the ashes of destruction and create some semblance of a life for me and my children to carry on with, but I was absolutely mortified. I was appalled at the dishonesty and CRIMES that had been perpetrated; I was embarrassed to not only know a criminal but to be married to him; and I was humiliated at having to endure everything so publicly, played out on a national stage.

It was a struggle to reconcile that all of those events were my life.

I couldn’t help but recall the little girl I once was–the little girl who who loved her dolls and looked forward to the day they would become “real” and I would experience motherhood; the little girl who immersed herself in fairy tales for hours on end and had such dreams of a real one in the future for her and everyone else.

I certainly never envisioned the story I got handed. It wasn’t my plan. My plan was for me, and everyone else, to grow up and live happily ever after.

The bottom line? I didn’t want the life that became mine unexpectedly.

And then I thought of my childhood friends: friends with addictions that destroyed their families and their lives; friends who watched their toddlers suffer and eventually die from physical impairments; friends whose parents committed suicide, died of cancer, or were killed in accidents; friends who divorced; friends who never married; friends who wanted children but couldn’t have them; friends betrayed by spouses; friends who died of cancer; friends diagnosed with M.S. and other diseases they live with and endure the effects of on a daily basis; friends who battle health issues and pain all day every day; friends who struggle with employment; friends who lost their homes; friends who suffered financial reverses; the list is endless.

The challenges varied, but almost every childhood friend I knew had been blessed with an unexpected life.

I couldn’t help but wonder what we would all have thought, as children, if we’d been given a glimpse of what was to come. Honestly? I wondered if I would have run at the thought of 2009. I guess it’s a blessing that certain things are unexpected. And that’s when I remembered, not for the first time, a key to living and enduring life and it’s challenges. You have to expect that unexpected things happen. In every life. To every one. So you have to carry on. Every day.

“Not a day passes over the earth, but men and women of no note do great deeds, speak great words and suffer noble sorrows.” (Charles Reade)

Shocking, devastating, heart breaking, hard, unexpected, even embarrassing things. Expected, exhilarating, happy, joyous and wonderful things. But always unexpected. Sometimes they lead to an uncontrollable desire to jump on a couch. Other times, it’s all you can do to get up off the couch and drag yourself forward to face the day.

But the important thing is that you live it and never lose your glimpse of the possibilities contained in tomorrow…if you can just make it through today.

A helpful tip to getting through the day? Don’t forget to utilize your couch if you need to. Regroup on the couch. Then get up off the couch, jump on your couch, sit close to someone you love on your couch (where is Agent M when you need him?), or rearrange your couch. Couches can be helpful in the unexpected life.

“I got up one morning and couldn’t find my socks, so I called Information. She said, “Hello, Information.” I said, “I can’t find my socks.” She said, “They’re behind the couch. And they were!” (Stephen Wright)


Fortune

Date: October 11, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Fortune knocks at every man’s door once in a life, but in a good many cases the man is in a neighboring saloon and does not hear her.” (Mark Twain)

Living an unexpected life, I can’t help but sometimes compare the “then” to the now.

Here’s one: fortune cookies.

When I was married, my former spouse had a hostility toward certain things. (And of course, criminal tendencies that have now been revealed or not, as with all people, it’s never what you expect.) Shawn Merriman felt anger toward fortune cookies. The sight of them on the tray at the end of an Asian meal upset him. To have someone read their fortune out loud from the scrap of paper they removed from the crisp cookie shell made him mad. I believe his venom toward the end-of-meal treat stemmed from his mother’s propensity to consult real fortune tellers for prophecies about her life, and that she made plans and lived according to the information they divined–something he completely disagreed with.

Whatever the reason for his hostility, and for the sake of peace and harmony in our relationship, home and family, I gave them up. I didn’t look at or read a fortune from a fortune cookie, for most of the 20 years I was married. Then I got divorced.

A year ago my sister came to town and took my daughter and me to a Chinese restaurant for lunch. When the meal was over, the fortune cookies came. My sister grabbed one, opened hers and read it. My daughter and I did the same. That small event was so huge to me, I recorded it in my journal–not as a defiance of my former spouse and the old life I had lived, as evidence of things from the life of Andrea Christensen I was embracing again–and the crazy single woman I had become. I hadn’t read a fortune cookie in decades.

My fortune cookie revealed, “Someone from your past will happily enter your life.”

So I saved it.

I even put it in my wallet!

I knew I was crazy, and my behavior toward the fortune cookie’s prediction proved it.

Things changed, again, with Bachelor #5. He gave me an entirely new perspective, even with fortune cookies. He not only reads cookie fortunes, he adds certain phrases to the end of them as he reads them out loud, and laughs! His fortunes have opened up whole new realms of possibilities for me. Lol.

Speaking of fortunes, here are some helpful ones for the unexpected, single life. Wisdom I offer to all from a knowledgeable and trusted source: the fortune cookie.

“Every man is a volume if you know how to read him.” (The problem is knowing the language they speak, as evidenced by the international set of bachelors AND by the love language every bachelor speaks–but that is another blog post in itself!)

“Your secret admirer will soon appear.” (Just watch out for stalkers!)

“You are surrounded by fortune hunters.” (That is true for women AND men. I’ll never forget the man who told me he didn’t mind that I had four kids, “As long as they’re provided for by someone else.”)

“Behind an able man, there are always other able men.” (Helpful to remember as you’re looking for your Mr. Awesome and haven’t found him yet. Don’t give up. If he was out there for me, he is out there for you!)

And last but not least: “Answer just what your heart prompts you.” (Useful for you-know-when; THE moment; THE PROPOSAL.)

In fairy tales and real life.

“Life itself is the most wonderful fairy tale of all.” (Hans Christian Andersen)

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.

Well-Meant Advice?

Date: June 24, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

As I returned to the dating scene after 20 years of marriage to the same man, and following my divorce from that man as soon as his criminal behavior and Ponzi scheme was revealed to me, I got some unsolicited, but well-meant advice from a neighbor.

He came over one day to tell me he noticed I’d begun dating.

I was surprised anyone knew. I certainly wasn’t trying to hide my activities, but due to work and children and my busy life, the dates usually didn’t begin until 8 p.m. or 9 p.m. and it was dark well before then. He said, “Oh no. This is a tight knit neighborhood, it’s a very small world, we watch out for each other, we’ve seen men and cars coming and going, we know.”

He told me that when he saw me move in, single, with four children, his first thought was, “Oh no, here we go.” He told me experts advise single people with children to remain single until all of their children are raised. He told me 40-year-olds just want to get married, and actually the best thing for 40-year-olds to do, is to keep dating “on the perimeter” and instead, raise your children. Lastly, he told me no man was going to want me and my four children.

I was a little confused as the man had been married, and divorced, several times. He told me of the struggles he had gone through, many of them child-related, and that was why he was sharing his thoughts. He also told me that he and his current wife were the one-in-a-million miracle of remarriage, and that if I knew their story, I would understand why they had married but that theirs was a very unique situation.

I was stunned.

I was raised on fairy tales. I love happy endings. I had always tried to be a good person, I believed in hard work, I wasn’t a quitter, I sought to have hope time and again even in spite of getting thrown into the deepest messes (not of my own creation) and carry on as best I could no matter what…and there wasn’t one more miracle out there?

I believe, “For every mountain there is a miracle.” (Robert H. Schuller) I’d seen enough tender mercies and miracles in my own life and in the lives of others to know, “We can see a thousand miracles around us every day. What is more supernatural than an egg yolk turning into a chicken?” (S. Parkes Cadman) We just have to look for them.

But I didn’t say any of that. I simply said the experts’ advice didn’t work for me. I had been married, and happily so (I thought) for 20 years. I liked being married and I believed in marriage and if I waited until my last child was raised to begin dating, I wasn’t going to even BEGIN dating until I was almost 60 years old! I felt way too young to waste my “youth,” not to mention the fact that I didn’t love being single…or alone…or lonely. Having had 20 years of companionship, I REALLY noticed its void in my life.

My neighbor left, his advice weighed heavily upon me, and in the end as I had done my entire life, but especially during the events of 2009, I had to continue to do what I felt was best for me and for my children. Despite what the critics thought. So although I appreciated his good intentions, I disagreed with the counsel he had volunteered, and I chose to continue the course I’d set and the decision I had made to date. (And of course, I called my sister and a trusted friend and got their opinion. Just to be sure.)

On to the next man.

“Can you imagine a world without men? No crime and lots of happy fat women.” (Marion Smith/Nicole Hollander)

*Just kidding about the above quote. I love and appreciate men. I just thought it was funny and had to share! I know women break the law too, it just has been my experience that SOME men do participate in illegal activities, like Ponzi schemes…:)