I Wasted Five Years of My Life Before Learning This One Thing
I almost became a cautionary relationship tale.
The end of my marriage was the beginning of relationship purgatory.
Divorce drama and custody battles waged over two years racked up $56,000 in legal fees. The following year I rebounded into the arms of a faux knight in shining armor who conned me out of almost $40,000.
By the time it was over, I figured relationships weren’t my thing. I was opting out. Over. Finished. Done.
And marriage? Never, ever, ever again.
I did have that one relationship with an emotionally unavailable guy after the dust settled. No strings. No vulnerability. It was fantastic.
We both had ex-spouse drama and our kids were high school age. The dating schedule pretty much revolved around days we didn’t have custody of our children. We saw each other every other weekend and once during the week with a random phone call or two sprinkled in for good measure.
To be fair, it wasn’t a relationship — it was a custody arrangement.
I stayed with this guy for five years. Our kids met twice during that time and the words “I love you” were never uttered once. I thought it was the perfect setup (at least I tried to convince myself it was).
I finally admitted the whole situation was about convenience, not connection. After five years of fancy dinners and soulless companionship, I wanted more. God help me, but I wanted an emotional connection. The one thing I swore would never happen again.
My epic last date with custody guy started like any other. We met at the bar of an upscale burger joint in my town’s new boujee shopping plaza. Thus began another date night, exactly like the 130 that came before. Screw complacency, I thought as he began droning on.
Thank God for wine. A couple glasses in, I interrupted his monologue. “I’m so bored.” I blurted out, “Something’s got to change; I seriously can’t do this.”
That was it. Relationship cancelled. Instead of going back to his place for weekend 131, I went home and slept peacefully in my own bed, blissfully alone.
Five years of self-preservation hadn’t gotten me much. I wanted and deserved more, but could I handle vulnerability and the very real possibility of getting hurt? It was a thought that still scared me.
I needed time to work on myself and my fears before the next relationship or I would never be any good for anyone. I knew the best thing I could do would be to take the rest of the year off from romantic entanglements.
That was May 2019. If you’ve been anywhere on the planet for the last three years, you know what happens next.
February 2020 came and I was ready to dip my toes back into the dating pool. At the same time disturbing news reports began surfacing. There was talk of a deadly virus spreading at a rapid pace around the world and people were afraid. I traveled to Las Vegas for a work conference at the end of that month. It was the last time life would feel normal for the next two-plus years.
2020 was a total write-off for most of the world.
I’m a corporate trainer. My job takes me all over the world for work. That all disappeared overnight and like every other human on the planet, I was stuck at home. We were in the middle of a global pandemic and virtual meetings became my only human connection. I knew I had a better chance of winning the Powerball than finding a relationship at this point, so I let go of hope.
On the bright side, I still had my dogs for intelligent conversation. And their company meant I wasn’t drinking alone.
2021 began where 2020 left off. The world was in lockdown with no end in sight. Life took on a dull, yet comfortable pattern: wake, work, cook dinner, mindless TV, sleep. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
Then the unexpected happened.
I joined a Zoom meeting with a new group of coworkers. Our host was running late, leaving me stuck with a band of strangers in virtual meeting limbo. I hate long moments of silence with people staring into the screen before the meeting starts. I’m a trainer and talking is my thing, so I talked, asking if anyone saw the Formula 1 race over the weekend. The agency people on the call continued staring into the void — no response. I guess they’d never heard of motorsport.
I was floundering and began to wonder if I was on mute when this cute Australian marketer spoke up. Bingo! I met another racing fan. We were five minutes in when we got into a lively discussion of the championship battle. The agency people’s eyes had glazed over by this time and I almost forgot they were there. It was a great conversation filled with playful banter and by the end of the meeting this man had caught my attention.
Imagine my luck when we ended up on the same project. He and I spent a ton of time working together and as we worked, we started sharing bits of our personal lives. I was so excited when he plucked up the courage to ask me out. We spent our first date watching a Formula 1 race together.
Okay, it was a virtual date. Me in my home in the San Francisco Bay Area and him locked away in his home 7,500 miles away in Sydney.
After that, we spent hours talking about anything and everything. We learned how to navigate a 17-hour time difference and along the way we got to know each other on a level that doesn’t happen with the luxury of physical contact. It was exciting and scary all at the same time. Three months in we started plotting a way to meet in person when, and if, the world ever opened for travel again.
Almost 10 months after our first meeting, Australia opened and we booked our travel. We were finally going to meet in person. My friends thought I had lost my mind and I got a few, “what if he’s a serial killer?” comments when I shared my news. “Aren’t you nervous?” they asked.
Hell yeah, I was nervous. I wondered how weird things could get if we ended up stuck together in a remote location for a week and it didn’t work out.
It went better than I ever imagined. The time spent across the months and miles left us very at ease with each other. There wasn’t a single awkward moment during that entire first week together.
That’s when it got serious — and expensive. Thousands of air miles and several months later, we decided to get married. It’s about to get real in 2023, as we prepare to begin our life together (more to come as our story evolves).
The Lesson: Never say never.
Looking back at 35-year-old me, I see someone who lost faith in love, romance, and trust. She said “Never Again” and shut the door on any possibility of getting hurt, swearing she’d never let anyone close enough to do damage.
In the process she almost became a cautionary tale, locking herself into a dull, lonely existence. I’m sure glad she found the courage to let go of the word “never”.
