Happy Valentine's Day

People will judge you.

People will misunderstand you.

People will never have lived one day in your shoes but they will be self proclaimed experts on the road you have walked.

People will hurt you.

People will call you names.

People will get a glimpse of you in one chapter of your life and claim to know the whole story.

Only God can judge you.

Only God will understand you.

Only God will walk right beside you.

Only God will heal you.

Only God knows your name.

Only God knows your story.

People will say they love you.

But only God.

Will never leave you.

***********************************
Today was a hard day and there is no way I would have made it through without my faith . . . God bless you all on your journey.
Love,
Audra

A Spit Swapping Situation

It's time to kiss and tell.

Well, maybe just the telling part. Because there wasn't any kissing. But there was a lot of spit swapped.

Here’s the scooparama:

About a month or so ago I ran into a girlfriend of a girlfriend of a girlfriend. I think this is just a couple levels above complete stranger but nevertheless I do recognize her face, know her name, and that she is divorced. Like me.

The fact that we both have ovaries and the same marital status puts us in the club, a place where that’s enough shared background for it to be acceptable to start with the mutual grilling of the love life status sixty seconds into the conversation.

We inquire with hushed whispers, “So, are you seeing anyone?”

She answers yes and tells me about her great boyfriend.

Of course, I answer with my standard, “Are you kidding me?”

She does what everyone does when I confess that the epitome of Saturday night excitement for me is getting all my laundry done.

“What? Why? You’re so fun and so pretty!”

Spoken like someone who hasn't seen me sans mascara or the Saturday before my period. “Yeah, and so not dating,” I tack on emphatically.

She proceeds to insist that I should date her boss. First of all, this town is smaller than a Lady GaGa leotard, I know her boss. He’s about 8 years older than me and our social circles do overlap. That is, when I feel like being social.

I laugh. “Please,” I explain, “I’ve talked to him several times; I don’t think he’s interested.”

She guffaws. And insists that I’m so, so wrong.

Four days later this self-appointed cubicle cupid works her magic because I get a text message from said boss asking me to meet him for a drink. Well, whatdayaknow, Idaho.

I agree and so we do, two days later. We have a fairly decent conversation and he must have thought so too because afterward he asks me to dinner that weekend and I figure why not.

And so Saturday night I put on some of my glittery overpriced eye shadow I reserve for emergency dating situations and head out for a steak. Another pretty good discussion ensues but the whole time I feel like I am trying too hard. I am only two dates in and I’m already exhausted by the effort and distracted by the fact that I have neglected laundry at home.

This is not a good sign.

Before the date ends we decide to stop for a drink.

We end up seated at the bar with a couple acquaintances of mine, one of whom I just learned the day before had dated this guy briefly last year. I wonder if this will be awkward?

Well, depends on who you ask because before you can say martini on the rocks I find myself being slowly wedged out of the conversation. Is this a Harry Potter flick? Did someone throw an invisibility cloak over my melon? Because my date and his old flame are soon leaning into one another giggling away over some inside joke about a dart board. Fine by me that I’m not in on the punch line, the only thing bothering me at this point is that I am sitting smack dab in the middle and all their mutual chuckling is launching spit into my eyeballs.

I excuse myself to no one in particular, escape the saliva shower, and head to the lady’s room where I can laugh out loud in the handicapped stall at this entire situation.

Only me.

Only me . . .

The good news is that was my last date with the girlfriend of my girlfriend’s girlfriend’s boss. And the gooder news is that after my acquaintance saw him with me that night they have since rekindled their flame. I’m sure right now those two are playing some hot and naughty game of darts somewhere across town and covering each other with their spitty little infatuation giggles.

More power to them. I am glad I could be of help.

Now I can go back to focusing on the much more important matter of my unmentionables.

My laundry.

Beckons.
***************************************
Truly, I am thrilled that those two are reconnecting. She is a sweeatheart and he is really an incredibly nice, nice guy. I am genuinely impressed by how God works and honored that I may have played a part in the rekindling of something special. If those two end up happily ever after, I am requesting two pieces of wedding cake at the reception for my role in this sweet fairy tale!
~Audra

"Dating Land" Retitled

I've been mulling this for a while and after a lot of thought I’ve decided to rebrand my blog.

Those of you who have followed me online for the past few years started with my first blog, Divorce Land. When I began blogging again I decided to continue the concept and rechristen my new blogging adventure: Dating Land.

Honestly?

That’s a great idea. In theory.

The truth is . . . I started Dating Land with a writing experiment. I used the blog as a place to write about a relationship that had just ended. Because I already knew the plot/conflict/characters I wanted to write the story in a “chapter” format. I basically wanted to see if I could compose a novella type story online and be successful since I had previously written self contained essays, not an ongoing story. Would I be able to attract readers? Retain them?

The resounding answer was yes.

People swarmed to “Dating Land” to read the story about Nick the firefighter. I was overwhelmed by the comments and emails I received and buoyed by the fact that I could write in a way that would hold people’s interest week after week and connect with readers chapter after chapter.

I have now transferred that energy to the novel I am working on and subsequently have been tossing around ideas about what to do with “Dating Land.”

Of course, everyone wants to be Carrie Bradshaw, but that isn’t realistic. Number one, my dating life just isn’t that interesting. Number two, if it were I certainly wouldn’t put it on the internet in real time. That would be, well, completely psycho. At least not without an alias (for myself).

I want to continue to blog because it is a great format that forces me to write on a regular basis. Plus, it showcases my writing style to potential editors. (Any editors out there wanna throw me a book deal the answer is YES!)

However, I no longer want the word “dating” in the title. Quite honestly, I am taking a conscious and decisive break from dating. Not only has it been a disappointing experience but it’s time consuming. And right now? I have two children who need me and a new job that I am extremely devoted to. Putting on mascara and leaving my house to eat a steak with a complete stranger doesn’t sound appealing at this precise moment in time.

And, I’ll also be quite vulnerable and honest on this topic as long as I am here:

The guy I dated after Nick this November was amazing and I fell hard. It didn’t work out but I miss him a lot. But I don’t want to put all those details on the internet. I want to be more respectful of myself and of him too. Plus, if I do start dating again, I am getting sick of that awkward confession that, “So, I am a writer and I have a blog on . . . um . . . dating.” thing. It’s just too hard to explain how that angle exists to attract readers and that I'm really not just throwing every little tidbit about my personal life on the internet when I meet someone new. It freaks men out and I don't blame them.

So . . . here's the deal: I’ll continue to write my funny little stories right here as always. But I’m going to explore numerous facets of life and it is not going to be solely about my dating ventures (or lack of). I’ve already been doing that if you’ve been reading regularly . . . I’ve written about a locked bathroom door, my visit with Santa, and even a great reunion with an old girlfriend. And I plan to continue that format. If I want to make the occasional commentary on love and dating, I absolutely will. But I’m not going to try to continue with a blog title that infers I write exclusively about dating topics, when I don't.

And so, my dear readers, I would be honored if you would continue to support my writing endeavors as I unveil my blog new title:

Chronicles of a Girl

Life will continue to be an adventure, I have no doubt. And I’ll continue to document those dynamic, insightful, truly hilarious, or sometimes just random moments.

Right here. As always.

Thanks for reading . Hope to see you back here every Monday and Thursday!

~Audra

Debauchery and Drunken Escapades

The email started so innocently.

“I know we hardly know each other but I really feel compelled to write.”

And then? It was all downhill from there.

The author wanted to know why I was such a hypocrite. How I could be so active in my church but at the same time write a blog about nothing but debauchery and drunken escapades.

I splatter my keyboard with the coffee I’d been drinking as I read this, wasting a perfectly good mouthful of Starbucks raspberry latte in the process.

Debauchery? Drunken escapades? Dude. What blog are you reading?

He went on to basically tell me that I need to have my soul saved. Of course, my initial reaction is to type back and tell him, “Oh yeah? Well you’re a weirdo and you look like Charles Manson.”

So of course I do.

(Restraint and discretion are so over rated.)

After that tit for tat attack I break down and Google debauchery. Because honestly? I don’t even know what it means. If I’m guilty of it I should probably know what it is.

Turns out it’s a whole lot of sex. With a whole lot of people.

What?!?!?!

The closest I’ve ever gotten to a ménage a toi was walking in on my college roommate and her boyfriend. I screamed. She screamed. Her boyfriend laughed. And then I ran to the bathroom to scrub my eye sockets out because her boyfriend looked like Shrek with his clothes on. You don't want to know what he looked like with them off.

I still have nightmares.

I scan my memory for any writing I could have done that could be construed into debauchery and I am seriously perplexed. My blog reads more like Celibate on the Farm than Sex in the City.

Unless I have repressed some vague memory of a weekend stripping in Las Vegas I am pretty darn sure I’ve never experienced anything close to debauchery. The only conclusion that I can come to is that in this conservative pocket of the country single is synonymous with scandalous. If you aren’t married, well, then you must be out every weekend in hot pursuit of as much debauchery as possible.

And in my case, putting said escapades on the internet.

Well, Charles Manson’s evil weirdo twin.

I got news for ya.

The blog is called Dating Land. I’m single. And on occasion? I go on a date. And on said date I may indulge in a glass of, gasp!, wine.

And unless that date turns into a full blown relationship, no one ends up naked at the end of the night. I go home to my boring house and my boring life and sit down at my boring laptop and write about what it’s like to be alone and how hopeful I am that maybe someday? I’ll find that one person to spend the rest of my life with.

And the last time I checked?

That’s not a sin.

But judging others.

Sure as hell is.

That Sparky Spark

I am now going to just write something so pathetically honest that everyone will outwardly gasp and exclaim, “How shallow!” while inwardly nodding in absolute agreement.

It’s okay. That’s what I always do too when people say this.

So here’s the deal.

When it comes to dating I’m really only looking for one thing.

That sparky spark.

That electrifying feeling that makes you feel like you just woke up from a long slumber, that life didn’t truly began until you discovered this person’s existence. Saw their face. Heard their voice. Someone you never get sick of talking to or hearing from, who even though you just met feels more familiar than your childhood home.

I know the technical term for what I just described is infatuation, but even finding that is not as easy as it sounds. And I should know. I’ve been single for three years. And I think I’ve been infatuated twice. Twice in three years? I catch a cold more often.

Trust me, I realize infatuation is not sustainable. It is merely the magic that love takes root inside of. Its as fragile as a bubble. Oftentimes, many relationships do not last long once it is crushed beneath the unromantic realities of life.

But it’s still important. It has the potential to be the start of something substantial. It can be that first chapter in a story that lasts the rest of your life.

So if I’m not “feeling it” with someone?

I call it off.

Call me shallow if you want to. I fully realize life is not all about butterflies and breathlessness. But you have to start somewhere.

And all I want?

Is to find that fire.

That starts.

With a spark.

Dating is Weird

One of my newly divorced friends recently posted on her Facebook status this simple truth:

Dating is weird.

Ya think? No kidding, it’s weird. I mean really, what other human interaction do you have where you have to make witty conversation with a complete stranger over a steak all the while trying to discern if you ever want to see them naked?

That is like the weirdest thing you can subject yourself to as a human being. I am convinced.

The other part of it that’s so weird is that everyone tells you that in order to be really good at it you should stop trying. “It will happen when you least expect it,” they tell you with pity coated assurance.

What? Like a speeding ticket? Or a plantars wart? I never expected those. Other than a winning lottery ticket most surprises aren’t necessarily positive, people.

And finally, how weird is it that the single most important aspect of our human experience, love, is not to be sought after and pursued but instead, waited for. Everyone encourages you to not put effort into finding it. That is just odd, because everything else in life that’s worth achieving, from losing weight to getting a promotion, requires some effort. You can’t just sit around waiting for the magical hot ass fairy to transform your bumper. It’s called a stair stepper. If you want to do well in your career you aren’t just going to trip over a corner office and a secretary. It’s called hard work.

But apparently when it comes to love that’s more like waiting for a lightening strike and there is nothing you can do about it.

So yep. Dating is weird alright.

It’s an odd ritual usually involving awkward dinner conversation with a complete stranger. On top of that, it’s a thinly veiled activity geared toward a goal that you should not activity seek out but instead sit around and wait for, the odds of which seem to be similar to that of anticipating a rogue meteor crashing into your bathroom while you’re singing a U2 song. In the shower. On a Tuesday morning.

And frankly?

I am not sure.

You can get much weirder than that.

The Dating Land Mail Bag

Every once in a while, I feel it necessary to put my fans in the spotlight. After all, the deluge of emails I get do help to fuel the solitary existence of my writing.

It’s really quite odd to me sometimes to actually comprehend how many people do read this thing. But more than that, it never ceases to amaze me how many people relate to what I write. Ever since the “I caught my boyfriend on a date with another woman at Granite City” story I get a lot of letters from people (men and women) who’ve just gone through a break up of their own. The stories and circumstances are varied, but the heartbreak?

It’s all the same.

Some of the letters I receive epitomize the power of a positive attitude and the ability to move forward and heal, such as this one:

I am thankful for the season of laughter with him and I must move forward. Tonight I am strong. Tomorrow I will be strong. I won't stop looking for love. I am one of God's beautiful daughters. I will be cherished and loved.

(This letter choked me up. What a positive outlook. These words were from a woman whose husband insisted they move across the country for his job, and once they were settled he announced he’d been having an affair for years and was leaving her.)

But some other letters? Well, they take a little different approach:

My ex boyfriend would be less of a sore spot if I were capable of developing feelings for anyone else. I don't know why I can't - I've got a veritable forest of d*ck at my disposal, so it's not like my options are all that limited, I'm just totally, wholeheartedly apathetic. Oh, and closed off.

(Oh trust me, I laughed so hard at the forest analogy I almost choked! But truly, with sarcasm like that as a life preserver? I think she’s going to be just fine!)

And some, well? They’re just brutally honest:

I just got done reading your most recent post on Dating Land, and I want to say, it really got me thinking. It also made me cry a bit because it reminded me of my life. I too, have had guys in my life lately who have made me cry. However, I have been really trying hard to be strong. I've told myself I don't "need a boyfriend" and that I should be strong and independent, etc. But your post reassured me that wanting love in my life is "nothing to be ashamed of." I also love that quote you put in one of your previous posts... "No guy is worth crying over, because the one who is won't make you cry." However, as you put it, I am human, and sometimes the pain just comes out despite my efforts to prevent it. Then I just can't stop the tears. Anyway, I wanted you to know I'm reading your posts, and am definitely getting something out of them, as I can really relate to your situation.

And so . . . thanks for reading, and thanks for writing. I’ll continue to document life’s journey and hopefully the connection that my writing provides makes everyone out there feel a little less alone in their very human experiences.

In truth, I think that anyone currently in their own version of Dating Land is any one of the above depending on the day. Sometimes positive and strong, sometimes apathetic and closed off, and sometimes just surrending to the reality that it can be overwhelming and even sad.

But wherever you are today on the journey, I do still want to perpetuate one perspective and that is this one:

Everyone deserves.

To be cherished.

And loved.

And that includes.

You.