Make a Dating Checklist- Trash the Dress Excerpt Chapter 4

Ajnira concluded my reading saying, “There are just things you’ve learned from the whole experience of marriage. Marriage is difficult. It’s not a walk in the park. It’s not the fantasy of it that we’re always told when we’re little, this whole big fairytale. We give up a piece of ourselves in order to be involved in that way.  When we need ourselves back, which we ultimately do, we have to carve it out of that unit. So now, you’ll be protecting yourself instead of being in a situation feeling that you have to sacrifice yourself for the benefit of the relationship.”

Meeting with Ajnira put me at ease. I felt hopeful and calm. One month after my tarot reading with Ajnira, I met the man who would become my boyfriend, Frank. They say love finds you when you least expect it and I certainly didn’t plan on meeting my soul mate in a dirty rock ‘n’ roll bar called the Court Tavern. In fact, I wasn’t on the prowl at all that night.

I was a few weeks into hanging out with this guy I had met online. Turns out we once again had mutual friends. He was a little dorky but rode a motorcycle. He also owned a house. However, smart financial decisions were not enough to keep me playing along with his text message games. I found them to be emotionally draining!

This guy sometimes waited hours or days to reply to texts and on top of that, never took me on a proper date. We always hung out with his friends. There were also a few evident deal-breakers on my dating checklist, like his occasional smoking. I knew I would have to eventually spread my wings and fly away, but wanted to wait until he returned from a business trip to confirm that it was over. This may sound odd, but I felt like a player talking to more than one guy, although I know that is what dating is all about. What can I say? I’m a monogamist!

With that said, I obviously didn’t feel right talking to anyone else until I made it clear to motorcycle man that I was no longer interested in playing games. Still “involved,” I wasn’t expecting to be talking to guys the night I met Frank. Besides, I was technically working.

My friends Nicole, Jessica and I were filming an episode of Planet Verge TV with a band we knew.  The guitar player had one of his good friends, Frank, with him that night.  Frank’s not a musician, which would’ve crossed him off my list, but he did go on tour with the band sometimes. We met up with everyone before the show.

 That night, I held the role of videographer while Nicole interviewed the group. Frank watched and then we all went our separate ways for dinner.

Later at the show, the Planet Verge girls and I went to relax in the back room of the venue so we could chat and avoid the noise of the opening acts. Shortly after, Frank and his friend joined our coffee klatch. Frank had me laughing all evening. It wasn’t long before I said to myself, “I could date him.”

This may sound funny, but the first thing that attracted me to Frank was his voice. I just love it. Frank also shaves his head, just like my teenage crush, surfer Kelly Slater. Frank may not be a world-champion surfer, but he was captain of the swim team and a lifeguard (Hobbies? Check!) I look up to him—literally. At 6’3”, Frank towers over my 5’1” frame. Because of that, I always feel protected when I’m in his arms, which have a few tattoos. He doesn’t have as many or as large tattoos as I do, however. In fact, Frank doesn’t really like girls with tattoos. He especially isn’t fond of the huge calligraphic “sXe” tattoo on my forearm that I got on my 25^th birthday to represent being straight-edge.

However, I can’t blame him. That tattoo was supposed to be really small and on my wrist. But when the artist showed me his sketch, I loved it so much that I went ahead with the recommended size and placement. Then, I went home and cried, afraid to remove the bandage from my arm. Once I did, I hid it from my mother for weeks. I woke up every day looking at my arm, hoping it was just a bad dream. Today, it’s my favorite tattoo. I love that no matter what I wear, my skin shows the world I am artistic and strong. The only annoying thing about my body art is covering it up for my corporate job, which I never thought I would have!

Luckily, Frank saw beyond my tattoos and fell in love with my total package. Ok, mostly my booty, as he likes to say. But there was really no talk of tattoos the night we met.

Rather, our little group tested each other on Saved by the Bell trivia, which Frank totally won. At one point, I told him I am obsessed with soap operas.

“You’re like a 49-year-old divorced lady,” he teased.

I figured that was as good a time as any to come clean. “Actually, a 29-year-old divorced lady!,” I retorted.

It was always so awkward having to reveal that part of my past to guys I just met. I could just imagine their brains going crazy trying to figure out my deep, dark secrets. Being divorced can sometimes feel like there is a great big red stamp on your forehead that says “baggage.”

Our conversation continued, but eventually our circle parted ways as the band set up their instruments to perform. Frank didn’t speak to me the rest of the night. I was convinced it was because he didn’t want to date a girl with a gritty past. But a few days later, he sent me a friend request online and invited me for a “non-threatening” cup of coffee, which I thought was adorable and clever.  I accepted his offer but delayed setting an actual date.

At the time, I was trying to balance my unemployment by taking on babysitting jobs, working very briefly as a part-time bridal consultant (oh, the irony) and doing casting for a reality TV show. Babysitting may sound like an odd job for a 29-year-old, but I loved it. I began filling in for my friend Megan on her nanny gigs and then got hired by a friend of one of the families.

My charge was the most adorable five-year-old ever, who was coincidently named Noelle. She had platinum blonde hair, piercing blue eyes and a toy husky. It was meant to be. Babysitting Noelle was more than just a job. It allowed me to play house and pretend to be a mom for a few hours every week. However, I felt that void in my life more than ever during those nights.

Between scouting television talent, convincing a five-year-old to go to bed at her scheduled time, and sending out resumes, my days were long and draining. In addition, part of me was reluctant.

 As much as I wanted to be in a new, healthy relationship, I was afraid I would lose all the freedom I had just regained. I was taking online classes through unemployment to get certified in two programs I hoped would assist me in getting a graphic design job at a magazine.

In addition, a friend was teaching me professional video editing. That program advanced my skills for Planet Verge TV. I hoped to finally get Planet Verge to the big time!  We had just launched a few documentary series and I felt like my life was finally picking up speed. For the first time, I had the freedom to chase all my career-related dreams and hours to dedicate towards growing projects. The workaholic in me feared distraction.

But then, I realized Frank was the only person whose phone calls I accepted during General Hospital. And I found myself constantly checking my phone to see if he sent me a text, which he did at least once every three hours. I wanted to talk to Frank and hear about his days.

I learned that Frank and I had a lot in common. He likes basically the same music as I do, hates drug use, rescued a shelter dog, and has strong family values. Check! Check! Check! Check!

Frank made it very clear that he was interested in becoming more than friends. Check “Someone I didn’t have to chase or make all the first moves with” off my list! Frank sent me “good morning” text messages, affectionately nicknamed me Jasper (Joelle + Casper because I’m so pale), and always put a smile on my face.

On our first real date, we sat on a park bench and ate ice cream (Enjoys the simple things in life—Check!). Then, we walked around the artsy little town. As we passed a sushi restaurant and perused the menu, Frank said, “We’ll eat here one night.”

 I knew right then and there that Frank wasn’t the type of guy to play games. He was genuine and our chemistry was organic. Everything felt natural. Without even thinking about it, I missed General Hospital on SoapNet (RIP, network) that night.

The next time Frank and I hung out, we went shopping so he could pick up supplies for an upcoming camping trip. Any other girl would’ve scoffed at that date, but I’m not high maintenance. Afterwards, we stopped by his apartment.

I know where your mind is going, so let me stop you before it gets to the bedroom! Frank took me to meet his dog, Linus, the beagle he rescued from a shelter with his roommate.

I was impressed by all the tricks Frank taught Linus. The dog could even play hide and seek! I made a mental note to have Frank train my wild pack. The rest of the night was spent sitting on the couch watching television, Frank with his arm around me and Linus cuddling across our laps. I felt like we were a little family already.

The next week, Frank volunteered to come over and bathe Skye and Lucky. I was bit nervous because he would be the first guy I brought home post-divorce. But I worried for no reason.

While at my house, Frank struck up conversation with my mom and then entered the warzone. See, I tried to tell him that bathing my dogs was no easy feat.  Being the stubborn Taurus (I am one year and four days older) that he is, Frank refused to listen. However, he learned his lesson as Skye and Lucky turned into bucking broncos and had to be muzzled. From that day on, Frank made it his mission to train the dogs, which I’ve found super attractive.

A few months following that afternoon, I changed my online status; this time, to “in a relationship” with Frank.

It was wild falling in love while still legally married. Frank joked that he was having an affair with a married woman. But on September 9^th—just 12 days before what would have been my second wedding anniversary—I sent Frank a humorous text message from the courthouse that said “Dear Frank, our love affair can now go public and we can consummate our relationship.” My divorce was official.

Fortunately, my whole divorce filing process was very simple. My mother, a legal secretary, took pride in typing up the paper work. The day of proceedings, my mom, lawyer and I sat in a room full of people who were also scheduled to go before the judge for their divorces. I was the youngest person there and felt so out of place. Max didn’t contest the divorce, so he didn’t attend. I notified him by text message to expect the paperwork and all he had to do was sign on the dotted line.

When the judge called my name, I approached the bench and confirmed some information, like the address of my marital residence, before he declared me a free woman. Of course, I considered myself free since the day I left Max, but it was nice to make things legal.

My divorce day was far from bittersweet. By that point, I was already in love with Frank and bursting at the seams to confess my feelings. In just a few months, Frank showed me love and what it was like to be in a real relationship.

I’ve loved before, but have come to realize I romanticized my previous relationships. Before I met Frank I always considered Brad, my on-again-off-again boyfriend of four years during college, to be my greatest love. From kisses to love notes hidden under pillows, Brad introduced me to fairy tale romance.

However, he often chose partying with his friends over me, his girlfriend. We were both workaholics so I thought it was OK that he chose HTML codes for clients over cuddles. Also, his friends didn’t like me because I didn’t drink, so sometimes Brad let an entire month go by without seeing me. I didn’t know any better at the time to realize it was not a healthy relationship. We spent holidays together, and Brad often wrote me songs, poems and gushy emails, so I overlooked my place on his list of priorities. 

When I first met Max, I didn’t think another love could compare to the way I felt about Brad. So I stopped looking for that intense spark and enjoyed the comfortable nature of my relationship with Max. He didn’t shower me with affection, but Max was there when I needed emotional support.  Our similar interests drew us to each other, but couldn’t be the glue that bonded our delicate relationship.

Today, I don’t have to worry about anything coming between Frank and I. From the names of our children to the breeds of dogs we’re going to adopt, the future Frank and I will share is just waiting for us to catch up. Every day, we’re a little closer to our goals. One of which is moving into our own place.

For a while, Frank was living about an hour away from me, which began to take its toll. Because I was financially devastated from the loss of my job and buried in credit card debt from paying off my past (wedding expenses, honeymoon, condo), I was in no position to move out of my mom’s house in order to get a place with Frank. Plus, my brother was no longer living at home, so there was plenty of room. In no rush to leave, I asked Frank to move in and have been falling asleep with my head on his chest ever since.

Sharing space with Frank meant sharing closets. Every morning as Frank slid the closet doors open to get dressed, he was blinded by a bright, sparkling obstruction: my wedding gown. I knew I had to get rid of it, and since I needed the extra cash, I figured my best option was to put it up for sale. I listed my dress on websites and even consulted with a bridal consignment shop but was left frustrated by the lack of money I would actually make, when or if it sold.

I was stuck with a work of art I never wanted to view again. My wedding dress became a constant reminder of my failed marriage. Every time I looked at it, I became angry thinking of how beautiful I looked the day I wore it and got upset because I couldn’t hang up any pictures of myself wearing it.

Then it hit me. I didn’t need to sell my dress to get rid of it. I could trash it during a glamorous photo shoot.