him.
All that changed a year ago when I
decided to pop in to Peter’s office unannounced and found a
half-naked, voluptuous blonde sprawled across Peter’s desk with her
legs up in the air. Peter rabidly plunged into her until he saw me
standing at the door. After witnessing that disgusting, humiliating
scene, I ran home. Peter didn't even bother to chase after me.
That's when I realized I had to leave the scumbag. Peter MacDougal
was a philandering prick and was never going to stop being
one.
Later that day, Peter came home and I
told him I was leaving him. Once again, he begged me to forgive him
and promised he’d change. I refused to listen to any more of his
lies and empty promises. The man had no respect for me or our
marriage. That night, I made him sleep on the couch in the living
room. The next day I packed all his things and hired a moving
company to take them to his office. Afterward, I visited my
lawyer's office and filed for divorce.
Leaving Peter was the scariest thing I
had ever done. All of a sudden, I had to learn to get by on my own,
something I hadn’t done in over a decade. I have a teaching degree
but hadn’t taught a single day in my life because Peter wouldn’t
let me work. Who’s going to hire a thirty-two-year-old teacher with
no experience? I wondered. Would I have to give up the house and
get a place of my own? How was I going to afford it? Would I have
to move and leave all my friends behind? These were the type of
questions that kept me up at night.
This past year was a pretty hectic one
for me to say the least. But with the help of my friends and my
very competent lawyer, I landed on my feet. I found a per-diem
teaching position at a nearby private school. Even though we had a
pre-nup, my lawyer got my scumbag ex-husband to agree to let me
keep the house. Alimony payments were also part of the divorce
settlement, but I wasn’t exactly swimming in cash. The house, a
4-bedroom Spanish-style home, wasn’t cheap to maintain, and my per
diem teaching job didn’t pay much. But I was comfortable and
grateful that I didn’t have to alter my lifestyle too much after
the divorce.
But my finances were not the only thing
stressing me out. Getting back into the dating scene had been a
frustrating, terrifying experience. I have been on very few dates
post-Peter. And that's because I'm very awkward in them. I just
don't know how to act or what to say. After trying out the club
scene a few times, I decided I was too old for it. And I won't even
get into the horrifying experiences I've had with online dating.
Let's just say that the last guy I met online creeped me out so
much, I decided to get rid of my computer.
After the most recent disaster date, I
decided to swear men off for a while and focus on other aspects of
my life such as my career. I started writing a lot and spending
time with friends. I also considered going back to school to get a
master's degree. The last few months leading to the signing of the
divorce papers were fun, productive ones for me. But I knew that
sooner or later I was going to have to start dating again. Dating
terrified me, but the possibility of spending the rest of my life
alone terrified me even more.
That morning in the bathroom, I
examined my face and body carefully in the mirror. I thought I
looked decent for thirty-two. I didn’t have any lines on my face
yet which I was grateful for. I practiced a lot of yoga and watched
what I ate so my body was in good shape. Still, I didn’t think
there were too many grown, normal men out there looking to date a
shy, sheltered divorcee with tons of emotional baggage and trust
issues.
After I finished doing my hair, I
stepped back into the bedroom to put on my running shoes. It was a
beautiful, cool late spring morning. The sun was shining bright,
and I couldn’t wait to get outside. I checked the time again. When
I saw how late I was for my yoga class, I began shoving things
inside my bag as fast as I could. That's
MR. PINK-WHISTLE INTERFERES