Where Do You See Yourself in 5 Years

It has been five years since my ex packed up and left, breaking our marriage and shredding my heart. I try not to dwell on things, but for some reason this year it’s getting to me. Maybe it’s because I’m five years older now and still single and still wishing I weren’t. Maybe it’s the frustrations with trying to meet men who have no understanding of infertility and question why I don’t want “my own” children or profess they can make that happen by their sheer manliness. Maybe it’s because he recently had a baby and while I wish I could tell you I’m the bigger person, there is a part of me who doesn’t think it’s fair he should get the happy ending after all he put me through. Maybe it’s because my sweet Primero is struggling with personal, semi-romantic relationships right now too. Maybe it’s the recent rash of pregnancies and births proliferating my Facebook page that have me in a funk. I don’t know. What I do know is that this too shall pass and while I might feel all doom and gloom right now, I don’t have a crystal ball and I don’t know how this next year will pan out.

 

I’m pushing myself to talk to and meet men I found via an online dating app. I’m trying to be more open. I met someone on Saturday for drinks and we had a nice time. I’m trying to not play the “where is this going” game and just staying in the moment right now. He invited me to the movies this weekend. Oddly enough, while we were out two women came and sat next to him. It turned out I knew them, one was a friend of mine and her friend who I’ve met several times. They were out on the prowl, both having complicated, semi-terminated marriages. They invited me along to a different bar and I ended up staying out to almost 3 am – something I have never done with the children at home (thankfully, my sweet Primero had no trouble staying home with the sleeping little ones). I had a nice time, except at one point there was a guy who seemed to be into both me and one of my friends. When my friend asked him, at the end of the night, to choose which one he preferred he chose the other woman. And, even though I didn’t want to start anything with him, it made me sad to be the unchosen. The very best part of the night was the ending, when I was cuddling in bed with Love Bug, who woke up as soon as I got home. We were facing one another, our heads on the same pillow when Love Bug whispered in his sweet sleepy baby voice, “Good night Mommy.” He then went on to say good-night to his sister, Primero and all four cats (he forgot the dog but I think she has since forgiven him). He did this while cupping his chubby little hand at the back of my head and stroking my hair and cheek, like I do to him when he’s falling asleep. With his forehead pressed to mine and our noses touching, he whispered, “Good night Mommy,” one last time before I drifted off to sleep.