Dating after divorce blog


19-Jan-2017 15:27

Thirty years ago I met my youngest brother’s best friend.

I’d just given birth and was in the middle of a divorce I did not want.

His best friend wanted to come see the new baby, too, and tagged along. But, he seemed to fall head over heels in love with my newborn and me. And, my brother tried to convince him I was an awful person.

He’s attentive, supportive, kind, gentle, thoughtful, fun, a great communicator….everything I’ve ever wanted. I couldn’t even dream of a man treating me so good. And, the entire time I’m like a hunter, stealthily tip toeing, quietly waiting for signs. And, perhaps that means God has been protecting me all of this time.

In this three weeks, I’ve chatted on the phone with men, texted with men, and been to dinner with one. My heart and my body have been preserved for that man God does bring me.

Thankfully, my other brother, the new found one, invited me to his house to be with his family. He had a girlfriend, and I was reeling from court, my mother’s death, the loss of everything, and was still trying to recover from the sudden onset of health problems ten months earlier. This Independence Day my brother once again invited us both to his house. We’ve spent up to five hours at a time on the phone in the evenings this past week. He’s just a nice guy who likes to fish and cook, who loves his kids and his dog, and who looks at me like he thinks I’m funny and pretty. I regret not “going for” my youngest brother’s one friend 30 years ago.

Yesterday my brother, his wife, the friend, and my kids and I went to a local lake for the afternoon. I feel relaxed and calm when he talks or when he’s near. So I wasn’t prepared for the emotional wallop I felt when we were sitting on the patio of the park lodge, looking at the tulle, lights, and bows and waiting for the wedding party and I realized—I hadn’t been to a wedding since I’d been divorced.The very first wedding I attended was my cousin’s in her parents’ backyard garden where the patent leather shoes and little gloves my mother sent me in made me the most formally dressed guest. The bride wore flowers in her tumble of long dark hair, a loose, flowing dress and in my memory her feet were bare.If the wedding party was particularly sassy, the groom might also be pressed into a dollar dance of his own, the best man and maid of honor competing to see whose dancer could raise more cash.