Death, discoveries, and decisions, Part III

This is the third in a series; if you need to catch up, please read Part I and Part II and then come back. I'll wait. 😘

Let's talk about the future. Again, no one is more surprised than I that I can even write that sentence, but here we are. Like it or not, Jeff Goldblum's character in Jurassic Park was right: life... finds a way. 

Even when we don't want it to. And I really, really didn't. Still don't, if I'm being totally honest, but it seems that life is going to do its thing and find a way anyhow, with or without my approval. So I suppose I'd best find a way to cope with it.

It wasn't until the week before last that the future even started to exist for me in any way. But I got to thinking about this house, and how I wish I could remodel it (since selling it and building our dream house is now off the table, as there is no more "we" and therefore no more "our" dream house). Remodeling is not possible (because: Covid), as there's no way in hell I'm having strangers in my house until this thing is over; I've seen how careless the locals are here, so I trust no one.

But then I got to thinking about how I always wanted to live in an unconventional house: one whose first life was something completely different (yes, I see the analogy: a woman who's now a completely different person than who she was before, wanting to live in a building whose function is completely different than the one it was before): maybe a textile mill, or a fire station, or a church. Doug really wanted to build a house, so that's what we were going to do. And no, I didn't consider that a sacrifice; in a marriage, the needs of the marriage supersede the desires of the individuals in it, and he gave me so much that I wasn't about to quibble with something that wasn't a complete showstopper for me. Wherever Doug was, that was home, no matter what it looked like. 

But Doug's not here, and while it feels wrong, the truth is that the only person whose needs I have to consider now is me. So, for kicks, I got online and did a little sleuthing, and I found a house in Wisconsin that used to be a church, and it was so incredibly gorgeous (and at a price I could afford) that I seriously considered buying the damn thing without ever even seeing it in person. It would've been perfect for the gothic/gargoyle aesthetic that I have always wanted to have in my house but never got around to indulging. 

And that's the moment when I was able to imagine a future again that was anything but total anguish; still not happy, for all the reasons I've been writing about for more than ten months, but not total anguish. 

Alas, relocating during a pandemic is probably not a good idea. And I'm in no condition to pack up a house at the moment, so... maybe another time. But DAMN, that house was magnificent.

I'm still not able to read books, and that's the next thing I want to tackle: I'm still buying books at the same rate I always did, and I have amassed a backlog that's more than a little daunting. I desperately miss reading.

Until the pandemic is behind us, I'm likely to continue doing what I'm doing (i.e., staying the fuck at home alone), but hopefully I'll be able to start some limited zoom/socially-distanced-and-outdoors socializing soon-ish. And as soon as it's safe, I'm going to be the social butterfly of all social butterflies: theatre, karaoke, dinners out, spending time with people as much as I can. And, I'ma be THE HUGGIEST motherfucker you've ever seen: close friend, acquaintance, even friendly stranger, IDGAF - if you're willing, I'm hugging. And as I said in a Facebook post on the subject, I don't mean a wimpy, barely touching, polite kinda hug. I mean like a facehugger, but your whole body. 

Also, as soon as it's safe (which, by my calculations, will likely be sometime next summer - roughly a year and a half after Doug died - but if it's sooner, that's fine too), I'm going to start dating.

You may have thoughts about that, and if what I've seen from my fellow widows is any indication, some of those thoughts may be considerably less than charitable. I actually saw a post in a widows' group last week in which several people intimated (and one outright said) that if a widow/er has a relationship after the death of their spouse, then they maybe loved their spouse, but they clearly didn't cherish them. 🙄

If there are widows who feel that way, I have no doubt that there are non-bereaved who do as well. So I'm going to state my position on the subject in as blunt and direct terms as I can: You are free, obviously, to think whatever you like. But anyone who so much as hints within my hearing that I didn't cherish Doug (because I want another chance at a happy relationship) needs to understand that they are purchasing a one-way ticket to I-will-NEVER-speak-to-you-again-land no matter who you are, with no exchanges, no refunds, and no take-backs. I mean, have you been paying attention the last ten months? Doug's death destroyed me. I loved that man with everything I have; I still do, and I always will. 

But he's dead, and he's not coming back no matter how much I want him to, and I don't want to live on my own with no partner. I've done it for most of my adult life, and I enjoyed it way back in the day, but I don't want to do it again. I've had no choice but to do it for 312 days now, and I fucking HATE it. I know how good it is to live with a partner I really love and who really loves me, and I want that again. I loved being married (the one time I got it right, anyway); I'm good at it, and it's good for me.

And if that all seems too soon to you - or if you think I should wait until I don't miss Doug anymore, I have a question: assuming you've grieved the loss of anyone close to you, when did you stop missing them? I mean, my mother died in 1990, and I still miss her. If I wait until I don't miss Doug anymore to start dating, I'll be alone forever. Moreover, I'm 55. By the time I'm able to safely start dating again, I'll likely be 56. Should I wait until I'm in my 60s? 70s? Until I'm on my deathbed?!?

No, there is no replacing Doug, and I wouldn't even try; it wouldn't be possible OR fair. Yes, I will always miss him - even if I find another great love and marry again. And whomever I date is going to have to respect that and understand that missing and loving Doug does NOT mean that I cannot love another man. If anything, it's my love for Doug - and Doug's love for me - that makes me a good partner, because I know what a healthy relationship looks like, and I know how to co-create one, and it has nothing to do with magic: it has to do with basic compatibility, good sexual chemistry, and a willingness to make the effort, every single day. And please don't think my desire to remarry means that I'd rather be with a shitty partner than alone: I've been there and done that, too (twice!). I'm grieving, and I'm lonely, but I'm not a fool. If Doug did just one thing to prepare me for a life with someone else, it's that he raised my standards really fucking high: The next man to win my heart may be nothing like Doug, but he's going to have to be as spectacular as Doug was, or he won't even have a shot.

If, after reading all that, you still have thoughts on the subject, here's a handy-dandy flowchart I made to help you decide whether you should share those thoughts with me (fellow widow/ers, feel free to download it and use it for yourselves):

Now, if you're still with me, please know that when the time comes that I want to start dating, I am absolutely going to ask my friends to help me meet someone. See, I'm a data geek, and I crunched the numbers, and... it's not good. 

• The greater Nashville area (that's Davidson, Wilson, Sumner, Rutherford, and Williamson counties) has a total population of 1,600,781. 
• 26.4% of the population is in the age range that's appropriate (47-65), which takes us to 422,606. 
• 49.3% of the population is male, which takes us to 208,345. 
• Since intelligence is important to me, let's say that 40% would meet my benchmark, which takes us to 83,388. 
• I would prefer not to date a man who's never been married by this age, so that leaves us with .14% who've been divorced/widowed and are still single, which takes us down to 11,667. (Exceptions could be made for men who were in long-term cohabiting relationships that ended due to death or breakup, but I couldn't find stats on that, so I'm going with the numbers that are available.)
• 36% of the population in Tennessee is progressive or leans left (and if you think I'd EVER date a Trumpian - and by now anyone who's still Republican is indeed a Trumpian - I've got a bridge in the desert for sale, and I'll give you a great deal), so that takes us to 4,200. 
• Of those, 90% are straight, which takes us to 3,780. 
• Of that group, let's say that 10% would want to date me. Personally, I think that number is high AF - historically, I've not seemed to be particularly appealing to a very high volume of men, and that dates back to even when I was young and beautiful. But we'll go with 10%. That takes us to 378. 
• Of that group, let's say I'd be willing to date 15%, which takes us to 57.

57. 😳

In all of the greater Nashville area, there are roughly 57 men I could date and potentially spend the rest of my life with. How in the actual fuck does one find one out of 57 men in a population of nearly 1.7 million? Online dating is one avenue, but for real: I'm hoping my friends can help (that's indirectly how I met Doug, after all). And yes, it's totally cool to laugh at the fact that I actually looked at the numbers; I did it because I'm all about data-driven decision-making, but I also know that's not something normal people do. For the record, I never claimed to be normal. 😘

As for the rest of healing/recovery/moving forward... look, I've been in a really dark place for over 10 months. And I was in an unspeakably dark place for more than two months. I've started to climb out of it (even though I didn't think I could and certainly didn't want to do so), but I have no doubt that more days in that dark place are in my future. Grief isn't linear, and there will days when I'm right back in that hole again. I've already had a few, and that's the subject of tomorrow's post (and, to the sure relief of your very tired eyes, that'll be the last in this series).