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Spooky

Date: January 24, 2012  Author: Andrea Merriman

“I knew what my job was; it was to go out and meet the people and love them.” (Princess Diana)

I finished my Madonna representation and was anxious to change out of the costume and hide. But I had one more hurdle to clear. The cast had to go to the ship’s main lobby, greet family, friends, “fans,” and pose for a group photo.

I wanted to do all of the above almost as much as I’d wanted to sing a solo of “Like A Virgin” in front of hundreds of people and wear the costume I’d been provided with—but I did it anyway, comforting myself that at least I wouldn’t know anyone and hopefully, that what happened on a Carnival cruise ship stayed on a Carnival cruise ship!

After the group photo, a man approached. Turns out, he’d been an old friend of my husband’s parents and their family in Winslow, Arizona, and hadn’t seen my husband in approximately 30 years! Their reunion was joyful. As I watched and listened to the conversation, I realized the man had also been a leader in the L.D.S. church when my husband was called on his mission to Japan—and there I stood dressed like Madonna! I took that as my cue to leave, and quick!

I turned to make my escape just as my husband said, “And let me introduce you to my wife!” I wanted to die, but instead, got to make a new acquaintance while wearing a black bustier. Not exactly what I’d expected. I sort of felt like a deer caught in headlights. But it got much, much worse when my new acquaintance revealed he now lives in the Denver-metro area. My husband replied, “Oh! My wife is from Denver!” The man turned to me and asked, “Really? What was your name?”

Have you ever seen television shows where everything comes to a screeching halt and all of the characters “freeze?” That’s how I feel, still, when people ask the question, “What’s your name?” I know, instantly, they’re going to recognize my name and it’s 2009, to some degree, all over again. (To those who think I can’t fully escape my past, try as I might…sometimes it feels like you’re right!) I felt like I stood there, mouth open, as my mind raced to solve the problem of how to answer that question but before I could give a response that did not include the name “Merriman,” my husband introduced me: Andrea Merriman. (He is such a nonjudgmental, kind man, but as much as he thinks he understands what I lived through as the wife of a Ponzi schemer clueless about her husband’s crimes until their 2009 revelation, I just don’t think he gets it; and it’s moments like that that reinforce that suspicion in me.)

It was the man’s turn to look like a deer caught in headlights. I’d known he would. I’d just been hoping to avoid it. A part of me wanted to die, inside. The good news, is that those moments are becoming fewer and further between. The bad news is that they still happen. The conversation resumed and I tried to remove myself from it as unobtrusively as possible.

I’d outdone myself that evening: inappropriate clothing, inappropriate lyrics, a forgettable solo in front of hundreds of strangers…courtesy of Andrea Merriman!

“When a relationship dies, do we ever really give up the ghost or are we forever haunted by the spirits of relationships past?” (Sarah Jessica Parker as Carrie Bradshaw, “Sex In The City”)

 

The Packet

Date: March 19, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Shake hands forever, cancel all our vows, And when we meet at any time again, Be it not seen in either of our brows, That we one jot of former love retain.” (Michael Drayton)

As I said, to obtain the necessary cancellation and clearance to remarry in a L.D.S. temple, a packet of paperwork must be completed and submitted to your local pastor.

As part of that packet, you must write a letter regarding your first marriage; when and where it took place, why your marriage ended, if there is any hope for reconciliation, and other personal information; your former spouse must write a letter–they’re free to share whatever they want to share, I think; your pastor must write a letter; and the pastor of the person you’re engaged to must write a letter. All of that is included with your application.

You must then be interviewed by your pastor.

You must then be interviewed by the local church leader who presides over your pastor’s congregation and several other L.D.S. congregations and pastors.

And then your packet is sent to Church Headquarters, in Salt Lake City, Utah.

Your fiance goes through the same application process on his end and his packet is also sent to Salt Lake City.

When both are received, the applications are reviewed. If information is missing, if more information is required, or if there are any other questions, the paperwork is returned for additional information. Sometimes a certain amount of time must pass before an application can be made. Sometimes it’s an issue of rounding everything up from everyone involved–it can take awhile! Factor in holidays, vacations, mail time, missed phone calls, wait time for appointments, and the rest of life…it takes a fair amount of time to complete the necessary paperwork, gather the required letters and obtain the authorization.

You never know how long it will take.

And as it is a very private matter, you don’t always know the reasons for the delays.

And you wait.

In my case, while you wait, you hear a lot of stories. And now here comes the gossip (feel free to skip it, every bit of the following is hearsay and could be completely inaccurate or untrue–having passed through who knows how many mouths and ears–but all shared with me by well-meaning people with the good intention of helping me know what to expect.) I call it “divorced L.D.S. gossip,” but here is just some of what I’ve heard the past 9 1/2 months: a church leader and his wife of 20 years STILL waiting for their authorization to be sealed in the temple; a worthy couple, both with regular temple recommends, waiting 2 years for their authorization to be sealed in the temple; a couple waiting four months for their authorization; and that the average wait for authorization is anywhere between 30 days and three months–it depends on each individual and situation, and to what degree additional information is needed.

I began the process, so did #5.

“What’s interesting about the process…is how often you don’t know what you’re doing.” (Alan Rickman)

In The Minority

Date: October 25, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“The test of courage comes when we are in the minority. The test of tolerance comes when we are in the majority.” (Ralph W. Sockman)

My ex-husband realized he was in the minority when he first arrived at the minimum security of the incarceration facility. He was part of a group of five inmates. The deputy asked, “How many of you have been here before?” He was shocked to see he was the ONLY ONE who didn’t raise his hand!

He couldn’t help but notice as a white man, without a tattoo, he was again in the minority at the facility.

As he got to know the personal situations of the men, he realized that having been married to one woman for 20 years and having four children with just one woman, also put him in the minority. Most of the men he met had children with several women. One man had eight children by seven women!

Another way he differed from the majority of the inmates he interacted with was in the language he used. He may have been the first inmate in history to attempt to express himself forcefully not with profanity, but with his own “strong” words: “darn it,” “shucks,” and “crap.” The other men in jail began to use those same words around him, saying them with a smile, and then laughing as they mocked his vernacular totally unexpected in the inside.

But it’s ok to be different. Even in the unexpected life. Even in prison.

The man in the minority didn’t completely “fit in” to the environment in which he lived. And the men in the majority excelled in tolerance for his “oddities.” Their friendship grew despite their differences. And as inmates arrived and departed for other facilities and other places, they were sad to see each other go.

“Happy trails to you, until we meet again.” (Dale Evans Rogers)

It can happen. Even in prison.

Bachelor #13: Mr. Hostile

Date: July 8, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was the end of Bachelor #13.

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

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

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

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

—Andrea

That’s How Ready I Was

Date: June 9, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

To anyone married prior to the invention of the internet, you may be like I used to be: clueless about the online singles thing. And although I’m still not an expert, I have (by trial and error) learned a few things. Let me share what I’ve learned. You never know, as in the case of my sister, when you’re going to need it to support your sibling whose life unexpectedly falls apart. (Thank goodness she knew something and could support my insanity at testing it out!) Here is how it works.

You find a site to join. There are a ton of them out there. You can look for free, but to meet people (ie. send or receive messages) you have to pay a fee and join. You can join for one month, three months, a year and scarily, maybe even longer. All of the sites I checked out had one month options. I looked at 3-4 sites and joined one for one month. Then you have to put yourself on the site.

You answer questions about yourself, you give basic information about your background, you list what you’re looking for in (my case) men and relationships. And you can be very specific–you can say you want to meet people of a certain height, a specific geographic area from you, with or without children or education. And of course, you should post a picture. (Some people don’t post a picture, but they say you meet a lot more people by posting a picture.) And then there are some people that don’t post their picture, but they put their profile up and make you request their picture.

You can do searches to find people that meet your criteria. For example, you could do a search of men of a certain age and height living in a certain area, like Utah. And instantly, their photos and profiles pop up. It sounds like it works, too. I’ve met many people who think it does. One thing I’ve learned: it is VERY common to be “online” if you’re single. (Prior to being single I think I probably thought desperate people, or psycho people, were online. In reality, it’s how you meet people these days.) In fact, it’s one of the first questions people ask when you meet them in person at, for example, a singles dance: What’s your name? Where do you live? What do you do? What site are you on? (It’s CRAZY being single in the 21st century!lol)

In my case, I had moved to a place where I didn’t know anyone. I was the sole parent of four children and didn’t want to spend the few precious hours each day that I have with my children away from my children meeting people. Adding to the challenge was the fact that I lived in one area and commuted to work in another city.That’s why I tried the online thing: I didn’t know what else to do to make a local friend fairly quickly.

But here’s why I lasted less than 24 hours online.

Aside from THE man (the rebound relationship guy who took me on my first date and many subsequent ones), I heard from some very unique individuals. They were a smorgasbord of qualities I wasn’t interested in, but I had decided I needed to be friendly and kind (and grateful anyone had reached out to me) so I determined to answer each and every message personally.

“Thanks so much for being friendly. Thank you so much for your kind comments about my appearance. Unfortunately, because I have a 4-year-old, I’m looking for someone a little closer to my age. Best wishes to you in your search.” (Messages like that went out to the 50-something, 60-something and 70-something year olds!)

Or, “Thanks so much for being friendly. Thanks so much for your kind comments about my appearance. Unfortunately, because I’m 5’9,” I’m looking for someone a little closer to my height. I’m sorry, it’s me–not you. I’m just not confident enough to pull off dating a shorter man. Best wishes in your search.” (Messages like that went out to the men who were 5’6″ and shorter who contacted me. I was amazed at the number of short men who contacted me, knowing my height and that on my profile I’d listed I was interested in meeting people 5’11″ or taller.)

Then there were the men in their 20s who invited me over to watch videos or “hang out.” At first I politely declined; I didn’t trust a man that young reaching out to a woman in her 40s with four kids. I couldn’t imagine what they saw in me or wanted, but I was pretty sure we weren’t after the same things!

Ditto to the men who sent me close-up pictures of their body parts. Those I deleted without a reply. But you should have seen some of the pictures! I was on a site with supposedly high moral standards, so most of the body part pictures I reference weren’t the pornography you might be imagining–although a few of those got through as well. I’m talking about close up pictures of an eye, lips and other things. They totally made me laugh. (Especially the lips!) I had to wonder, “What they were thinking taking pictures like that, much less sending them on to total strangers!” Do pictures like that REALLY woo women?

And then some men I just had to flat out block from being able to contact me. Their messages and photos were too scary.

I endured the online thing for a day, but after that first day, the number of contacts and the content of some of the messages overwhelmed me. I couldn’t spend hours on the internet hearing from strangers and attempting to be kind, polite and friendly to them all! I was the sole parent and support of four children who were, and remain, my priority. I didn’t have time for much. I guess I underestimated the reach of putting yourself online and the number of lonely, or friendly, people all across the world.

I decided I had jumped the gun. It was all too much for me. I wasn’t ready. I canceled my account.

Besides, I was having too much fun “on the rebound” with…shall we call him…Bachelor #1?

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