For starters, we’re legally married in two countries (France and the U.
S.), which makes for some long, drawn-out paperwork.
I’m so disappointed in myself that even just the thought of it makes me blush with shame. I realize that sentiment is hardly groundbreaking or remotely original, but you’re trying to sell yourself to someone else, convince them that you’re worth their time and hope that they’ll convince you of the same.
You don’t want to delve into your sob stories, your murky past, those bizarre little quirks you have (the ones you hope they’ll love someday, if it gets to that point), or admit to your mistakes.
I was putting the pieces of my newly shattered life back together and the other woman just wasn't a role I was willing to play long-term.
He was, after all, juggling a soon-to-be ex-wife with a new lover.
When we’re newly in love, most of us seem to find everything endearing.
If you come across as a normal human being and not an over-sexualized creep during the first conversation, well, then you are already ahead of the curve. I knew that I was willingly making myself into a sidepiece. I knew better than to sleep with him, but I did it anyway– until I couldn't do it anymore. I wanted to find someone that felt good to be around. I have exes, as we all do, and that’s where the story will end. I was newly single and in my mid-twenties, and after weeks of being told that it was time to put myself back out there, I decided that there was no harm in using Tinder. His marriage was over, and it had been over for some time, even before the separation, he said. We shared shreds of information, the things that make us who we are. Me: living together with a long-term partner whom I loved but didn't see myself with in the future. That way, should the topic come up later, I can actually say, “Oh, I told you, didn’t I? I struggle enough with the fact that my marriage came to an end after just a year and a half, that my husband cheated on me, and left me for a girl 28 years his junior, just two years older than his daughter from a previous marriage.
I guess you just didn’t hear me.”Being married, but separated, is no picnic. All of that is embarrassing, no matter how you slice it or how many times friends and family tell me that he’s the one who should be embarrassed.
But still being married to him is a whole other level of embarrassment. When you tell people—dates or otherwise—you’re separated, they ask the following questions, in this order: “How long have you been separated?