Tag Archives: dating

Choices and Consequence

Here is a list of things I vowed to never do again in a relationship:

  • date a north American
  • date a non-Christian
  • date someone with no money and/or who wouldn’t pay for things
  • be the one who went backwards and forwards between 2 houses, living out of the boot of my car, during that weird in between part of the relationship when we weren’t living together
  • live together without at least being engaged first (hello, can I wait long enough for some commitment before giving up my maid services for free?)
  • wait endlessly for an engagement/wedding
  • move into his house rather than mine
  • be the one making all the sacrifice and assuming all the risk in the relationship
  • live on his timeline
  • give up the opportunity to move home for a man and stay in North America because of him

I never even thought to add that I would never date a man with kids because that was never part of any equation. In fact the day before our first date, I swore blind it wasn’t a date simply because he had children and I didn’t want to get involved in that kind of situation. Don’t ask me how my big list of DON’Ts is going…

Some days I look at my life choices and laugh at myself because they are just so laughable. Who does these things? Who makes these kind of dumb decisions? Who doesn’t learn the first time around and keeps repeating the same mistakes?

Well…I never said I was smart. After all, I am a fat bulimic. And, on that note, I have started purging again.

I had to. Life is boring. It is mundane and of course I swore blind that the only reason I would stay was for an extraordinary love. Yes, I am waiting for the kind that sweeps me off my feet. The kind that they write about or make movies about. I said I wouldn’t stay if it was just going to be ordinary. Well guess what? It is ordinary – EVERY DAMN DAY And I don’t think it is ever going to be enough for me, in the same way that I will never be enough. I am bored by the routine.

My heart is somewhere else. We all know that. I have never made a secret of it; never hidden it. I am a discontent. I am a dreamer. I am in all likelihood delusional. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that every day is the same: wake up (chronically sleep deprived) to a dirty, disorganized house. Try fruitlessly to clean or tidy or sweep or do dishes or put toys away or stare at the mess and die on the inside. So much for a never-ending love story: it is more like never ending laundry. Nothing I do makes a dent in the chaos. Go to gym or work or both. No matter. I am eternally fat anyway. Come home to cook and clean and clean and cook. Who cares. It never ends. Try to be the perfect step-mommy. Fail. Try again. Fail harder. Give up. Cry in the bath tub. Pull myself together. Have a melt down. Drink excessively. Try to instill some boundaries. Fail, of course. Bake some healthy cookies. Feed the kids candy. Give in. Hate myself some more. Read a self-help book. Realize I am a bitch. Make school lunches. Realize I am not their mother(s). Try again. Fail again.

This is our “dating”.

I have started starving again during the day from the anxiety. I have started coming home longing to binge my way to oblivion. I look forward to drinking the most. What else is there to look forward to? No date nights (no money). No weekends away (no money). No wining or dining or shopping or movies or drinks or vacations or diamonds or roses or who cares anymore. I am obviously not worth those things.

I have made his life infinitely easier and made mine infinitely harder. I thought somewhere along the line there would be some reward, a payoff…something to make it all worth it.

There is the perfunctory “I love you” in the darkness before sleep (no sex – again). It is sad and empty and it sucks the life out of me: not my mistakes, but the ones that I’ve agreed to pay for by being here. That I will pay for over and over again every day of my life that I chose to stay. I try to tell him that I am not meant for this life. That I am not the person for him or his children; that I have made the wrong decision. He doesn’t believe me. It is like he is fighting to hang on to me because he wants someone to love. I would want to be loved if it was me in the situation instead of him. I get it. I keep saying that he needs someone else. That I am freaking out. That I made the wrong choice. He cannot allay my fears or calm me. He is too tired to see that this will not work. It cannot. There is no time for us. There is no foundation to build a life upon together. There is no room in his life for me to squeeze into. I don’t want to be mummy number 3. Third place does not sit well with me. Failure is my biggest trigger.

And yet he loves me, despite my failing. He loves me and I don’t know why. In 32 years I have never managed to love myself. He told me this week, “you are much more loveable when you aren’t trying to run away”. I am always trying to leave…

I sit here alone in the dark on one of our only nights without kids. I am serenaded by the hum of the dishwasher in the kitchen and the washing machine in the basement. At least in the dark I cannot see the mess (I have made of my life).

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

On Dating A Man With Children

This isn’t anyone’s dream. No one grows up wanting step children and baggage. I told myself firmly that I was not interested in a man with 2 children from 2 different mothers. I was so sure that I would not fall in love with him. Why would I get myself involved in such an abnormal situation?

But I did. I fell in love and told myself that we would find a way to make it work. I had always wanted children. I had always wanted to adopt children. I was so certain that I could be selfless and loving and play happy families. I imagined I would be an exemplary step mother who embraced the exes so that the children would see us all getting along. I thought I would excel at nurturing and taking care of small people; of helping them to be unscathed by any of us adults. I imagined a home and a family that was mine even though the children weren’t. I would be the perfect girlfriend and eventually the perfect step-mother. Surely I could do this and do it well?

All I have discovered in the last six months is that I am not anything other than selfish and immature. I am shallow. I am not cut out for motherhood. The fact that they aren’t my children probably doesn’t negate this fact.

I had no idea that I could resent an innocent 2 year old because she was the bone of contention between us and her mother for months. The more difficult the mother made my life, the more strain she put on our relationship and the more I was asked to sacrifice for someone I had never met – who didn’t have the decency to greet me – the more I wished that this child didn’t exist. Who wishes for a beautiful, little girl not to exist? What kind of a monster does this make me?

I was not allowed around the little girl for a long time and therefore we did not bond like I did with the other child.  She was the reason so much went so wrong for us early on. I nearly left because of her mother and the lack of boundaries between my boyfriend and her. Everything that nearly ended our relationship I was expected to grin and bare for this child’s sake. In the end we both discovered that it wasn’t about the child, but the mother and her issues. I regret agreeing to not be around the child because it has taken so much longer to bond.

I have discovered that there are grey areas. I am trying to learn to be normal in an abnormal situation. I am expected to do a lot of mothering without any of the rewards of being a mother. I have to make sure I don’t step on the mothers’ toes as I learn my role. I am constantly reminded that I am not their mother just in case I forget that I did not give birth to these children. Don’t try and take the mothers’ place. Don’t post a picture of me and the children on social media. Don’t help the children to make their mothers Christmas cards. Feed them, read to them, carry their stuff, spend money on them, clean up after them, cook for them, play with them but don’t try and parent them. I never seem to know where that line is. I worry about it constantly. What if they grow up to resent me or hate me? What if their dad and I break up and I lose not only the man I love, but his children too?

I cannot compete with a 2 year old for her father’s time and attention. It isn’t right. I don’t know how to balance needing him, but not being able to have him because 2 other little people need him. Last night I was distressed about my family back home and ended up crying. A two year old cries louder. I needed my boyfriend. She needed her daddy. I was left alone sobbing in the bathroom at 1am. I cannot be held because she needs to be held. She is 2. I am 32 and an idiot.

I wanted some quality time with my boyfriend after a few hectic weeks. This never happens when there are children around. Plans and schedules change on a whim. I have to fit in. My life is squeezed in around them. There is barely room for me. Between 3 jobs, 2 kids and 2 mothers, I feel like there isn’t much room for me. We seldom go on dates. There is no money because there are children. Every evening that the children are there I am lucky if we get half an hour of “us” time in front of a tv. No dinners or concerts or parties or cocktails or romantic weekends away….there is no money. Now I see how shallow I am; how much I love all the traditional parts of dating. And I like sex. A lot. We were about to have sex last night: clothes were coming off, kissing, touching…I had looked forward to it all day and then the 2 year old woke up. No sex. Again. I fell asleep by myself when all I wanted was his arms wrapped around me.

I look at my boyfriend and realize that he has done the baby thing already. All the firsts that I dreamed of will not happen. He has gone through 2 pregnancies with not one, but two women. He has his first born son. He has his precious daughter; the apple of his eye and the love his life.

When we started dating he didn’t want more children. I wanted to be excited about having our own children together, but it was always overshadowed by the knowledge that he had done this before. And in my heart of hearts I am scared he doesn’t really want more children. He tells me he will give me children to make me happy. I haven’t reconciled in my mind how all this works. And like his ex said, “three children from three mothers? How is that supposed to work.” Because I needed her to say that, to poison it, to take away from something that should be special for us.

All I know is how much I don’t know. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to be a step mother. I don’t know how to deal graciously with the mothers’ while still keeping my boundaries. I lose my mind when the crazy one calls constantly and texts him just to text him, and tries to control our lives. I get upset when I go to his parents house and her photo is still on the wall and his dad calls me her name by mistake. I cry when I give him a special gift for Christmas and sh e gives him the exact same gift “from the child”. I don’t know how to have my needs met without asking sounding like an ungrateful b**ch that I am: sleep, sex, time together, romance, boundaries…

I am tired all the time. I am stressed. I am anxious because I know this cannot work out. I am not meant for this role. All the fun of a new relationship is overtaken by crazy exes and children who will always trump me. And so they should. I am selfish. I am immature. I am a horrible, horrible person. If I know anything it is that I need to end this – not because I do not love him, but because he deserves so much better. His children deserve so much better. I have to leave, to walk away. I just don’t know how.

Tagged , , , , , , , ,

Male Stupidity and The Dating Bible

Male Stupidity and The Dating Bible

*Disclaimer: Man Bashing Ahead*

Today I have had my fill of stupid things men say and do. Read my last post (https://thefatballerinablogs.wordpress.com/2013/06/19/anxiety-and-eating-disorders/) about my dumb ass roommate (I am not feeling very Christian towards him right now) for a run down on idiocy.

Recently I started chatting to a man, let’s call him DB (because those are his initials). We met online and had coffee once for an hour as our first ‘date’. It was alright but not universe altering. Since then we have talked on the phone a few times and he mentioned “getting together” this weekend. I have tried a handful of dates since my terrible break up 6 months ago and they were all epic failures especially the one that resulted in a restraining order (https://thefatballerinablogs.wordpress.com/2013/03/05/stalkers/).

DB seems to check all the important things off the list but, like any one else afflicted with male gene, he has proved his stupidity already. He called today after telling me he would be in town on the weekend and said nonchalantly, “I was wondering if I could hang out with you this afternoon”.

The old me (pre break up), would have cleared my schedule to be accommodating for someone that I like. The new me (who has since discovered what I term ‘The Dating Bible’), barely concealed a snort of derision.
“I’m sorry. I had no idea you were in town. If I had known, perhaps we could have made plans. My schedule is full today.”

My schedule is full of sitting at home blogging, binge eating, purging and laughing at this man. I would be thrilled to see him and to go on a date with him but after reading the book “Why Men Marry Bitches”, I have learned that being available at the drop of a hat is a big no-no. If you are a female, I advise you to read this book:


In my last post, I wrote about how I am too nice and how that means people try to take advantage of me. Cue my last relationship. W and I were set up by a friend, hit it off immediately and fell in love. We had the most amazing three years together in which we traveled, adventured and just generally had a stellar relationship in which we were both, admittedly, happy. Even the weekend before I broke up with him we went away to the mountains, wined, dined, frolicked and had sex like teenagers.

Wait…I digress. Back to the beginning of our relationship. I liked him so I didn’t play games. We both, ostensibly, wanted the same things: to travel, get married, have kids and enjoy our hard won careers. So, I was always available, I rearranged my schedule and eventually my life for him. I was the perfect girlfriend and his family and friends adored me. I cooked, cleaned, kept house, had intelligent conversations, wore sexy lingerie and made his wildest dreams come true. I made him my priority, put him first, put up with some of his quirks, sacrificed everything I could for him, changed, moved and gave him everything his heart desired. Guess who he didn’t want to marry after 3 years? Yup. This idiot.

He had commitment issues and I learned that no matter what I did, no matter how amazing I was, he didn’t want me. This book talks about breaking all those rules. Loosely summed up it talks about not being available at short notice when a man doesn’t take the time to make a plan. Not being available when he tries to squeeze you in between water polo and wings with the boys. Not being available when he starts to take you for granted. All the things I did wrong because I believed that the more I did for him, the more he would want me. I believed that he would see me for who I was: loving, generous, kind. He didn’t. He strung me along for 3 years without having the man courage (balls) to tell me he would never marry me thanks to his deep rooted issues and f**ked up childhood. I performed relationship acrobatics like a trained monkey without realizing that I was not the problem. He was.

Cue to present day. After reading this book, I have decided that it can’t hurt to change my tactic. I am 30 and divorced (a young, brief marriage to a serial cheater) and have started to recovery from my last long term relationship sufficiently to get back in the “game”.

That is why this book is so brilliant. It talks about how men love the thrill of the chase, about how once they feel that they have “caught” you, they stop caring and you become less appealing. There are many great examples in the book about bad boy behaviour and disrespect.

He didn’t make a plan and wants you to drop everything to see him spontaneously? Too bad. You are very busy. Perhaps you are busy taking a bubble bath and drinking wine but, you are too busy for him to expect that your schedule is empty.

He doesn’t call? Don’t be available when he does call. Take your time in getting back to him.

He blows off plans? Tell him to get back to you when he has sorted his issues out and until then your time is precious.

I always believed that I didn’t want to play games with men but, now I think of it more as training. When DB called this afternoon to see me this very same afternoon, he probably wasn’t trying to insinuate that I had nothing better to do but hang out with him. (By the way get some manners and ask a lady out on a proper date. “Hang out”? What is this? High school?)

Had I gone to see him at such short notice, he would subconsciously realize that he could come into town whenever he felt like it, unannounced and without the decency of making a plan and I would – ta da – be available. I nonchalantly made tentative plans with DB for tomorrow, based on my schedule instead.

In short, after reading this book, I have learned that I can still be nice but that I need more self respect. I deserve better and I am not bending over backwards for another man who, most likely, will not reciprocate. If he is interested in a life with me, then he can make me his priority. He can accommodate me and make sacrifices for me and be available for me. He can cook and clean and keep house and perform relationship acrobatics to keep me interested. I will no longer play the Stepford housewife so willingly. I have realized that they pay off is not an engagement ring and a lifetime with the man I love. The pay off is mortgaging your soul, moving 3 times in one year and waking up alone and homeless because of what you gave up to make it work. Being burned has its advantages – you finally learn some hard lessons.

Last month I made plans to go on a first date with a man called Nathan. I was excited for the first time since forever. He text me once to reschedule, last minute, because of “an emergency at work”. I acquiesced after giving him the benefit of the doubt. The next date rolled along and he text me (again, he didn’t call) to postpone our date because of a hockey game. I wished him well in life and told him politely to take a hike. He was so confused. He told me he didn’t understand what had just happened.

And that, fellow bloggers, is what is wrong with men. Chronic stupidity that can’t be cured.

Tagged , , , , , ,