Moving Through Mourning

I've discovered a new stage of mourning. It's not one that's in any of the self-help books. My new stage? Disgust.

I'm disgusted with my long history of men who didn't treat me right. And I'm disgusted with my long track record of just lying down so they could walk all over me.

But I'm not so disgusted that I would hang up if Mr. Match called me tonight and said, "Oh, Janet, I've been a fool." What a sad sack I am! (Yeah, he calls me Janet. He thinks it's a prettier name than Jan. Does anyone want to tell me what statement that makes???)

But he doesn't read this blog, so he doesn't know how easily the door would open. And judging by his behavior (or lack thereof) since Saturday morning, I would place a large wager on not hearing from him for a very long time.

I know I'll hear from him, because he left some books over here that are collector's items and very precious to him. But I doubt he'll ask me out again.

Shall we discuss all the collector's items in my possession? I got an e-mail from the Lemonade Tycoon last night. He's back in town and wants to see me. But trust me, he wants to see me as a friend, nothing more. I guess it's better than enemies.

Maybe I'll experiment with dating a variety of men and getting attached to none of them. That would be a new experience. The only problem with that is my brain is too old to keep all the facts straight.

Y'know how I made a statement the other day about men past 50 who have never been married. Well, the benefit of that is there are fewer facts to keep straight -- no exes, no kids (well, one hopes . . .).

Maybe if I work on having male friends who are not "boyfriends", I'll more easily retain a backbone. Worth a try??