I have been married three times. I have been divorced three times. And now, I have gracefully bowed out of dating or the thought of remarrying.
I learned from each of my marriages: Patience, forgiveness, self-reliance, and how to pack a moving van.
After decades of hopefully and stubbornly clinging to the idea that I would find lasting love, when I found myself in the wreckage of my third marriage, I finally woke up to the wrenching truth that marriage isn’t for me. I looked back on my relationships and came to the sudden realization that, as much as I tried, maybe I’m not the marrying kind, have no idea what I’m doing, or am clueless about what makes a good life partner or how to be one. Or, likely, all of the above.
Even after all this, I still believe in love. But as much as I believed, and worked, furied, and frayed for love, I walked away with my heart an empty, deflated paper bag, wrinkled and ripped, unable to carry another thing.
It took time, but I realized I was happier after my last divorce
For a while, I was deeply disappointed and ashamed. To go through husbands like other people go through cars. Or sneakers. It wasn’t what I wanted or expected. It was far from what I vowed to do. I fought three losing wars for love, and in the end, decided to fly a permanent white flag.
After a year of learning to breathe again following my last divorce, I distracted my mind by teaching myself how to make candles, sitting with myself and crying to heartbreak songs, and then belting out empowerment and fighter songs way too loud. I realized that I had not lost. I was not lost. I was finally found. I didn’t feel hollow or bitter. I felt I was becoming…someone. I could just be without having to be just right. I could follow my whims down winding paths.
My arms may have been empty, but my hands were full — learning, doing, building, and creating a life I wanted and loved. I bought a house in the woods to provide a peaceful, safe haven for my two youngest children and me. Instead of feeling as though my bed was empty, I reveled in the freedom to stretch out under pink, fuzzy blankets, buoyed on heaps of pillows, and watch TV until 2 am.
Rather than hearing the echoes of broken promises, I listened to birdsongs in the woods, and could identify every one. I got a dog. I got two. I planted a giant garden. I got into debt and learned how to get out of it. I started a business. I started two.
Though occasionally I miss having a partner, I still don’t want to date
Are there things I miss about having a partner? Yes. Shared dreams and futures can be fulfilling and comforting, and if that had happened for me again, that would have been another kind of joy. Once in a while, I miss movie dates and hand-in-hand walks on the beach. I’m no mechanic or handyman, and my old car and house need both. I have to bring home the bacon and fry it up in the pan. But for me, after everything, the benefits of being single far outweigh the drawbacks of being in the dark and chill, trying to light matches in the rain.
I have been single now for eight years, and I plan to stay that way. I don’t date — I never have since my last divorce, and don’t want to. I was tired of giving myself away. I expected to feel lonely without the companionship of a partner, but I have never been happier. I felt far lonelier when I was with a partner, when I had to twist and abandon myself to belong. I finally feel like a whole person after shedding my other halves.
I have an abundance of love in my life from my family, children, friends, and animals. After decades of devoting my time, energy, body, hopes, and dreams to others, I cherish getting to finally choose what I do with every minute of my life — I read, I write, I grow things, I make things, I discover things. I feel free. I am better, feel better, on my own. My happiness is luminous, and my heart is full. My face is turned to the sun.
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