It occurs to me that some readers of this blog may know who I am despite my strenuous efforts to mask my true identity (see my opaque profile page for evidence of said efforts). This occurs to me because I sent emails to them informing them of this blog's existence.
It further occurs to me that some of these same readers might fear what they will find here, that perhaps some of what I write will be so revealing or embarrassing that they may wish with great fervor that they did not know my identity and/or that they had never read The Reluctant Bachelor. Or that they had never met me to begin with.
To which I respond: Fear not; I have no interest in laying bare my deepest, darkest secrets, which by the way are pretty mundane and would not make for good reading anyway. Nor do I intend to write anything that would be embarrassing to my future ex-wife. This blog is not about our failed marriage, nor is it about our breakup, nor is it the lugubrious chronicle of a man's obsession over a lost love. Anything I have to say on any of those subjects will transpire exclusively between me and my therapist, thank you.
Rather, I take as my model the wonderful Innocents Abroad by Mark Twain, a book that is full of astute and profound observations of the human experience, all recounted with delightful wit and without being the slightest bit confessional, self-pitying, or any of those other horrible things that make you want to stop reading and run into the room farthest from the offending text. Yes, I have set the bar high. If my head clips it as I pass below, I will be satisfied.
This blog is about making the transition back to single life. It is about the fact that the last date I went on was with a 24-year old who eventually became my future ex-wife, and that a lot has probably changed since then. It is about the fact that I have suddenly had thrust upon me a bunch of responsibilities I never had before, such as maintaining the house instead of pointing out to, say, my wife that the house needs to be cleaned, or walking the dogs instead of simply mentioning to, oh I don't know, let's say my wife that one of the dogs is jumping at the door. It's about contemplating once again pursuing what one friend refers to as 'the strange,' by which I'm pretty sure he meant women with whom I have not previously been acquainted.
In other words, it's about my new life, not my old one.
So there you go.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
4 comments:
I've found you via Wendy's blog. I feel like I've been eavesdropping, but then you HAVE laid all this out very publicly.
Your words resonate with me. I was in your shoes back in the 80s. It's not easy. You'll have lots of ups and downs. But you don't need me to tell you any of this.
Anyway, I'll drop by from time to time to see how you're doing, if I may. Meanwhile, feel free to drop by my part of the world when you have some time.
Take care of yourself...
Janet
"Innocents Abroad"? Oo, I can't wait 'til you get to the part where you describe how shiftless and lazy your new Portuguese manservant is.
as someone who's gone through this myself -- extrastorchy would do best to delete the bookmark to this blog and not check back. for the good of the both of you.
anonymous--
You may be right, and we may be crazy. Fortunately our split has been amicable, albeit painful for all the obvious reasons, to now. My future ex's occasional comments here aren't likely to change that, I can't imagine.
Post a Comment