Month: December 2015

Meet Me in Denver

~ June Grace ~ Leave a comment

blueplane

“As if dating in real life isn’t complicated enough, enter the myriad subtleties of online dating. Tinder, eHarmony, Match — what’s a single mother to do? “

IT HAPPENED TO ME: I Flew Across the Country for a Second Date with a Guy I Met Online

Yep, I did that. I flew to Denver to meet a guy for our second date. Then I wrote about it on xoJane.com (spoiler alert: I did not get murdered).

Was it impulsive? You bet. But my experience taught me that it’s possible to have fun and even find love dating online, while still being responsible and safe.

For the record, I did determine this guy was who he said he was before I agreed to meet him, and I was suspicious about his marital status, but he checked out, at least from what I could find online.

Also for the record, I did not have sex with him. Seriously, I wasn’t ready, and we discussed boundaries before agreeing to meet. To his credit, he was respectful in every regard. And for the Audi doubters in the xoJane comments section, check this out.

Divorce Free Fall

~ June Grace ~ Leave a comment

tree

Yearning to gain control over my life

Fighting for some semblance of it at least

It can’t be what it was before, I know this and welcome the resulting challenges

This feels like a free fall

I grasp for anything to pad my inevitable tumble to the bottom

I spread out my arms, reach for branches, try to grab and hold on for dear life

Determination does not hold a strong enough power over the sheer exhaustion of it all

Balanced by tip toe on a small hold, I have to let go once again, I can’t endure any longer

If I keep boomeranging this way, what will be left of me when I get to the end, I wonder?

I Dreamt of Infidelity

~ June Grace ~ Leave a comment

dreamcatcher

I would wake up in a panic, soaked in my own sweat, gasping for air.

Every night, for months on end, I dreamt of her, the other woman, with my husband.

It felt like my punishment for not being the perfect wife he wanted.

My imagination and fear filled in any missing details, to the point where nothing could hurt me more.

I dreamt that he was still with her, and I was the only moron left on the planet not to know. I dreamt of how it would have felt to punch him in the face when he told me about the affair, instead of stuffing my anger deep down inside, haunting me in the darkest hours of night.

The saddest part is that even awake, I was living my nightmare.

Day in, day out. No reprieve, except the idea that I could eventually leave it all behind.