I remember our last Valentine’s Day as a couple. If that’s what you’d call two people who share a home in silence and sleep in separate bedrooms. Because he was cheating and coming home at 2 a.m. from a tryst. We worked together too so there was that Public Last Valentine’s Day. I realize we don’t always know it’s the last one. I knew. Based on the evidence I just told you about. There’s a lot more, but I know you already have experienced your own versions of a woman being cheated on
The Soon-To-Be Ex had flowers delivered to the main part of the office.
Where many assistants of different types work at their desks. I still remember my face having zero expression as I received the “empty gesture” (I mean the flowers). I have no memory of what they even were. Because I knew they were not for me. They were for show. To make it seem to co-workers that we were still some kind of romantic couple. It took me a minute to get rid of the blank face and force a smile and an “Oh my gosh!” Three words covered it, I figured. It felt like I was in some sort of skit and not sure of my lines. (In a way, I was!) Ladies in the office gathered around to “ooh” and “ahh” over the bouquet.
I snapped out of nothingness and reacted with fake joy, thanking him.
Maybe there was a hug involved. After the crowd dissipated, I put the fake romantic floral arrangement in my office. What I wanted to do was dump it in the trash. Right next to our “relationship.” Of course, that wasn’t an option. The group of melancholy flowers stayed there, heads bowed, for about a week. They were a reminder that the relationship was over. A youthful start of being beautiful and wanted and perfect to this. I already knew I was being cheated on by a woman half my age—that little thing. I tried not to think about being single after 50. And tried not to let that wilt me. You too?
It galled me that he had the gall to create this public display of affection where there was none.
To put me on the spot, forcing me to fake react in joy and fake affection. I guess maybe he was looking for brownie points with the other women in the office. That he was still a good guy in their minds at least. Saving face for the time being. Until the inevitable became apparent and the gossip started. A few girlfriends actually called me to let me know it was going around. They were angry at him and felt horrible for me. At least for the time being. (More to come on that one!)
I went to individual therapy and group therapy during this life upheaval.
Both were helpful in their own ways, but if I had to choose one, I’d say the group had the most impact. This was because I realized the scope of this being left at the midlife thing. I was not the only person. More importantly, we all had no choice but to get over it! What are we gonna do? Spend the rest of our precious lives in shock and anger and concentrate on his life? What a waste of mental energy. Instead, we could create a mental health self-care routine. We could be planning a fun trip or learning a new skill or whatever we feel like!
Whatever I wanted for the first time in my entire adult life was there waiting for me to do it.
What a gift! Group therapy helped me put that in perspective. Changed the trajectory of my life. Exactly what was needed. That wisdom came from a lady in this group who laid down this Truth Bomb. “Get going, Ladies! Time is of the essence!” I’m forever grateful for her Wisdom! This is merely another reason we hesitate to reach out. Trust me, you do not have to do this alone. Together we can overcome social anxiety strategies. It’s our Exes that want us to stay small. They are long gone. And there’s a world of ladies in your predicament all around you. Share your thoughts with them in whatever way feels doable. But Reach Out. Don’t isolate. You have so much to contribute on so many levels.
I know you know that. I was definitely now going along with the fake moment. What else was there to do? Make some scene that’d be gossiped about for centuries? I’d never do that because no matter what the man did, the woman yelling is remembered as “the Chick who went crazy.” Right?
A woman with no right to be angry to do that unladylike thing of raising her voice even when it’s entirely justified.
Women with feelings are told to go jump in a lake. A nice cold one. And the man? No one knows what to say so they get off the hook completely. No price paid! Perhaps even a few pats on the back at the after-work watering hole. “Good for you, Buddy!” And they all laugh and raise a beer to the death of a quarter-century-long relationship. Perhaps some are secretly envious. They’d never have the guts to do it. Scared of Public Opinion of what an awful husband they turned out to be.
That awful moment is in the past where it should be.
These days are so much better, that “better” is not a strong enough word. And the flowers thing? Perhaps you’ve heard the anthem, ahem, I mean song, “I Can Buy Myself Flowers” by Miley Cyrus. If you haven’t, give it a listen. Because part of it goes, “I can buy myself flowers, Write my name in the sand, Talk to myself for hours, Say things you don’t understand.” Relatable, right?
Valentine’s Day is no big deal to me now. If you were to pass me on the street, you’d take no notice. You’d walk right by another blonde-haired, American woman with a slightly beguiling smile. (Alright, that’s pushing it, but hey, it’s my article)
There’s no man in my life currently, (my choice) so I’m going to hang with some girlfriends.
Inevitably, we will want to order the most important part of the meal first. The dessert. Living life as my own woman, I have admitted in the past that I don’t like chocolate. Of course, every single gal at the table wants to split the chocolate mousse or the black cherry chocolate cheesecake. You get it.
Unlike any other woman I have ever known, I don’t pine for it, crave it, or dream about it.
In fact, someone gave me a two-pound box of See’s weeks ago that still sits sadly on my kitchen counter wondering why it hasn’t been devoured in some guilty midnight raid. Yes, this makes me odd, but truth be told, I don’t really like sweets at all. It’s not an allergy or anything. I never really think about candy, or cookies, or cake. All those girlfriend lunches where before the meal is ordered the dessert is chosen, to be shared amongst the table bores me to tears. “Get the chocolate mousse, or the black cherry chocolate cheesecake with raspberries! I don’t care! I’m going to fake-choke-down a bite so I don’t seem like a freak anyway, so let’s get on with ordering our salads!”
These are my unshared inner thoughts at these seemingly normal girl moments that are played out at every CPK and Cheesecake Factory across America every day.
I know what you’re thinking. “Why Diane? Why would you force-feed yourself? Surely the other ladies who lunch would be thrilled that you don’t wish to partake in dessert. It’d be one-sixth more of a bite for them.” But you’d be wrong. Trust me. The few times I’ve attempted to “pass” on “the shared bite” I was roundly chastised, asked what was wrong with me, and told vehemently that a life without chocolate is not worth living. Now, I merely plaster on a smile, shove it down the hatch, and rave about it, while secretly itching to brush the sickening sweetness off my teeth. I beg those reading to be compassionate and not judge me.
I’m a human being who doesn’t think that Life Is A Box of Chocolates.
I’d prefer a nice fruit basket. And while we’re at it, I’m not that crazy about diamonds, red roses, or thong underpants – okay, now I HAVE said too much. But I’m uncoupled and loving life.
Happy Valentine’s Day. Don’t forget to buy yourself flowers.
We all go through major life transitions when relationships end… Through the Leftat50.com website, I will share my thoughts as I walk the path of “New-Self” discovery. It doesn’t matter which side of 50 you are on. The real question is, Are you ready to live life? To forge a Path of Your Own Making (For a change!)? Then stop dwelling over the What-Might-Have-Beens and join me. Share your thoughts here, comment on mine, and let’s do this together! And check out my book, “Restarting Your Life When You Are. No Longer A Wife” I wrote it just for you!