By skptvprods on May 17, 2011
After a short relationship I am bidding my blog a fond adieu. These musings of mine have been purely self-indulgent and even a bit narcissistic. And it is my choice that I no longer publicly discuss my second love. I made this decision after my e-mail account was hacked. I know when it happened and who oversaw the deed. It was a strategic operation. Someone else even gave me a new password for my personal e-mail account.
The joke is on them, though. I still had a few e-mails on my BlackBerry. I've deleted them, but not before saving them in my own super secret hiding place.
Gone are the love notes, the first e-mail he ever sent, gone are the jokes, and general discussions we had when we couldn’t chat by phone. I’m pissed. But the deed is done and there’s no looking back.
With that in mind, and before signing off, I’ve decided to write an update for anyone who may care.
The Other Woman, Now His Wife, Tried to Lay Claim to My Children
In my most recent post I wrote about worrying about running into the other woman at my son’s Master’s graduation. It became a moot point. You see, my son decided to skip his graduation ceremony in favor of Nashville’s version of the Kentucky Derby, also known as the Iroquois Steeplechase. Think the gentility of the Derby with a NASCAR infield. Only this infield was awash in pastels and seersucker. Eric called me at noon from the Steeplechase and was already sloshed. Graduation was at 2p. It was fine with me. He has his cap and gown and when he gets his diploma from Belmont University's admin office I will take faux graduation pictures.
Thank you, thank you, thank you research gods and the medical community. The HRT kicked in about two weeks after I started downing one of those little pills each morning. On occasion it feels as though a hot flash is about to overtake me but it subsides as quickly as it starts. Other changes include a mental clarity that I haven’t had in several years. I talked to my doctor about my foggy brain during our discussion about THE CHANGES. It really is as though someone poured Windex through a little hole in the top of my head, took a paper towel, and wiped away the fog. My post-period period may not be so bad after all. These changes, during THE CHANGES, could not come at a better time. The countdown is on. I’m heading out to see Gibbs in a few days. Our first encounter in four months. To say I'm antsy is a gross understatement. Spooning. YES!
Falling in love after a midlife divorce fascinates me. I think I’ll remain a student of this topic.
I continue to be amazed at the heart-pounding happiness I feel when I think about Gibbs. He called me yesterday. It’s the first time I’ve heard his voice in four months. My spontaneous scream at work when I realized it was HIM, surprised even me. I ran to my office, closed the door, and composed myself as we chatted for about 20 minutes.
Once in love is no surprise. A second love that’s so perfect for me, that’s a gift. I’m not looking this gift horse in the mouth.
None. No more guilt. As a friend said, “The universe has shined on you. Accept it.” Done!
The Year of Me
2011 will continue as my year. In preparation for my upcoming reunion with Gibbs I visited a spa today and was waxed and sanded.
With This Ring I Thee…Sell
If we ever marry I don’t want or need anything more than a simple band to tell the world that I’m loved by someone. I would like to have it engraved with אני שלי האהובה, האהוב שלי הוא שלי. It's Hebrew and reads, I am my Beloved's and my Beloved is mine.
Honey, I Think You’ve Been Scammed
A well-meaning counselor at the Ft. Campbell Army Base told me she thought my relationship with Gibbs was a scam. That he is not what he can’t tell me. As Gibbs said to me once, “Lying is difficult. There’s just too much to remember to keep the stories straight.” I know he doesn’t lie to me. He’s my real deal.
I’m off to join him to watch his son graduate from college. His side of the family will be there and I’ll get to meet those I haven’t yet met. I think this is a clear sign that, on occasion, counselors do make mistakes.
Love Lived Across the Street
I called my ex-husband not long ago to tell him I no longer hate him. Hate is a terrible burden to carry. I let my loathing go along with the toxins that come with the negative karma. I told my ex that I may not like him, or what he did to me and our family, but I have let that part of my life go.
I also thanked my ex. You see, our move to Nashville came in two shifts. He went north first because his job started June 1, 2003. I stayed behind in the Jacksonville area while the boys finished the school year and to prep our house for sale.
It was an awesome time to sell real estate. The house sold for double what we paid, on the first day it was listed, for just $4,000 less than the asking price. Oh, and it was a cash sale. That was a Saturday morning. After the paperwork was signed I called my husband in Nashville that afternoon and told him to buy us a house.
The following Tuesday he found our house in our wonderful neighborhood. We sold a house, bought a house, and packed and moved 600 miles in less than 25 days. He left me about a year after we moved. Gibbs moved in across the street not long after my divorce was finalized, and, well, you know the rest of the story.
So, thank you, Mark. Thank you for buying our house, which I didn't see until the day I moved to Nashville in August 2003. My heart is whole. You found the woman who will be your forever mate and I wish you happiness, with all my heart. I am happier than I ever imagined possible.
There you go. The end of the story on my blog. The story will continue offline. I have to write. It’s in my DNA. It’s how I’m hard-wired. And if there’s ever another really good story to share I’ll let you know.
Thanks to all my family, friends and followers. Thank you for allowing me to be self-indulgent. I’ve heard from some of you and I’m glad that you’ve enjoyed my musings, I appreciate your opinions, and I loved your feedback.
I wish you all peace, love and happiness. And now, without further ado, I bid you all a fond adieu.
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