The Last Battle of My Divorce: Teenaged Children in the Crossfire
Dear Ex-wife, I sincerely hope you are happy in your new life without me. I am happy you are remarried, I am happy you no longer have any money concerns,…
Becoming a single dad was one of the most traumatic events of my life. I did not want the divorce, I fought against the divorce, and ultimately I agreed to collaborative divorce and was taken to the cleaners by an ex who decided to go for the “divorce package” rather than honor our 50/50 shared parenting agreement.
Dear Ex-wife, I sincerely hope you are happy in your new life without me. I am happy you are remarried, I am happy you no longer have any money concerns,…
Even before the relationship began to physically disintegrate, we were feeling a bit disconnected. How did we lose what was once so hot and pure? How did the dream die, even as we were trying to be good partners and good stewards of our lover's heart?
The last thing I want is to be crafting new dating profiles in six months or two years. I really deserve a relationship that is based on fundamental compatibility, shared lifestyles and life goals and has the potential to last the rest of my life.
Namasté to my ex-wife and her husband. And congratulations, I guess you got what you wanted when you asked for a divorce. You won.
If our intention as single parents is to find a long-term relationship, taking down and deleting the online dating apps is the first step towards a victory dance. So, when you are both delighted to find the time to be together, and you are both expressing desire to find more time, you are well on your way towards establishing the trust that anchors an authentic relationship.
Some questions about touch, sex, and my emotional intelligence: Do I need a woman? Would I be okay alone? Why is it so hard on my core personality to be alone? Am I addicted to love, or physical touch?
In a seemingly random and brutal series of events, my life began a transformative reorientation. I was praying as hard as I could. I was working an entry-level job (that I loved by the way) at a local specialty grocery store, and... horror of all horrors was/am living with my 85 yo, mom.
If she drinks the third glass I begin looking for what I'm going to do that evening when she's fallen asleep. If she asks for water, my mind enters into a different set of fantasies that involve her participation. The real joy is that we've had this discussion.