Over the holidays, I got to know the “Picnic League,” Josh’s friends from high school who’d been known to enjoy cold beers and a nice summer spread near the Minneapolis lakes. Five of the guys had been friends since they were grubby little boys, and over the years, they’d pulled in their girlfriends (some turned wives), a couple of fun college buddies, and one fabulous woman from their high school class.
On a cold December night, Josh and I met up with the Picnic Leaguers at a crowded bar near the University of Minnesota. I wasn’t sure whether Josh had mentioned my divorce to anyone, but I was still feeling incredibly self-conscious about it. My brain wasn’t doing me any favors, and I assumed that my failed marriage made me a lot less attractive in everyone’s eyes.
The Picnic League guys and gals were an entertaining lot. The banter included your basic bullshitting, the occasional heated political discussion, and plenty of good-natured ribbing. As the only girl in a family of boys, I was accustomed to being teased and challenged. But when one of Josh’s buddies joked that he didn’t want to “get too attached” to me—Josh’s latest girlfriend—I felt like I’d been punched in the gut.
Josh was a 30-year-old bachelor, so naturally, he’d introduced numerous dates and girlfriends to his friends over the years. One liability of dating nice people is that when you’re ready to say “adios,” your friends and family are sometimes understandably bummed. They’ve invested time and energy into getting to know your significant other, too. In fact, I’m pretty sure that my own dear mother was emotionally exhausted from the chronology of my love life.
I managed to smile and swig my way through the rest of the gathering, but later that night, when I crawled into bed next to Josh, I buried my head in his neck and sobbed. I was so damn tired of the whole thing: the dating, the forming attachments, the questioning, the breaking up. Repeat ad nauseam, and oh, why not throw a dysfunctional marriage and a divorce into the mix?
Things felt different with Josh, but I didn’t expect anyone else to see that. Still, I hoped that our friends and family would take a chance on us as couple. If they could believe that we had a fair shot of making it, I just might let myself believe it, too.
[...] 2007, I found myself at a choral rehearsal of sorts. The “choir” included most of the Picnic League group, minus lovebirds Chris and Corri, who were getting married later that week. They were [...]
I love this post. It’s one of the things I’m most worried about…getting back into the dating game and being embarassed by my failed marriage and looming divorce. I feel like it will be a dark cloud over my head, no matter where I go. I’m glad to hear that it’s normal to feel that way…and I’m glad I’m not alone. I’m still in the early stages of my divorce; a month and a half left until it’s “official,” but my husband just moved away on Monday, so I’m now alone for the first time in 5 years. At the age of 26, it feels terrible. My friends are all getting engaged and having babies, and I hate that my divorce feels like it puts a damper on every party. Anyway, enough of my tangent…just wanted to say Thank You!
Well I know that I wasn’t at the picnic league. But I’m sorry that you felt that way. If it’s any small consolation, it has been so little talked about that I had forgotten that it had happened until you started this blog.
I know–it was totally my own insecurities. Nothing anyone did or said!
Thanks for this Emma. I can SO relate!! I have spent the last year going on dozens of first dates and seeing a few more than once. I feel like I can’t even tell my friends and family that I am interested in someone at this point. I just started seeing someone I really like AGAIN and the thought of all of it is exhausting and totally depressing. Oh well, it could be worse. I could still be married
You’re so right that it could be worse. Just think of the potential and keep the faith. Good luck!