Orange Juice and Oreos

“I don't want to get married again.” I say.
“How can that be?” she wonders.
“For every one time I have a thought about how much I’d like a man-type partner to share a life with, I have 4 - no make that 12 – no, like 20 thoughts of how happy I am that I’m not married.” I reply.
“Like what? What are the reasons you’re happy to be single? I mean, I try to count my blessings, but what kind of things make you OK with not being married? I want to know.”

Her story is similar to mine. After a lot of years and three kids she too was dumped for a younger model. His remarriage is looming. She’s struggling.

“Tell me.”
I give her an ‘I can buy pulp-free instead of the gaggy- fully-loaded orange juice’ type answer. Or my standard cookie aisle reply. (I was doing late night shopping at Safeway, and while in the cookie section, I saw a young woman throw a bag of Oreos into her shopping cart. The cocky, goodlooking young man with her reached in, removed the cookies, and found a cheaper, no-name brand and dropped those in the cart, saying, “Your kids don’t need expensive cookies. They can eat this crap instead.”
I wanted to say to her “RUN. You don’t need a guy like that. You can do this on your own. Sometimes it lonely, but really, trust me on this – don’t sacrifice your kids or your right to make decisions just so that you have that oh so coveted “married” status.)


However I know these are pretty shallow answers to her heart’s cry. Freedom to buy the orange juice and cookies of one’s choice is hardly going to fulfill the longing in her soul for companionship and happily-ever-after love.

I’m not saying that every fibre of my being doesn’t crave those things too. It’s just that I’m pretty sure it’s not going to happen this side of heaven. Why waste time, energy and daydreams on something unlikely to take place? So, I fill my life with other relationships, activities, interests and prayer requests. Don’t underestimate the power of crafting to divert one’s attention from all that is lacking in one’s life.

Anyway, we agreed to meet again and talk over coffee, She’s a few years behind me in the healing process and wants to ask me a bunch of questions.

That said, the very next night I had a dream:

I was at a house party with close friends, probably of the Pentacostal variety because I was dancing in the living room to some’80’s tunes. At one point a slow song came on and I went to sit down when someone hugged me from behind and we spoon-danced without me ever seeing his face. As the song ended he slipped away and I floated over to the fireplace and sat cross-legged on the floor to ponder these things in my heart.
Unexpectedly, “I wrote you an email too” was whispered into my ear in a Chandler-like way, causing shivers to run down my spine. I turned and looked into the eyes of the guy who had hunkered down to be beside me. Chandler.
Quirky, sarcastic, sexy Chandler from Friends.
Right there in my dream.


I woke up having the most severe, mind-numbing, debilitating, menopausal hot flash of my life.

Once my heart regained a normal beating pattern, my words of the night before came back and smacked me upside the head, “I have no desire to get married.”

“OK. That was the ‘one time’, now I’ll have twenty thoughts contradicting that sentiment,” I vowed to myself. I refuse to live with a longing that is destined to remain unfulfilled.

It’s simply a mind over matter.

Besides. I’ve been single for almost 8 years. And in all that time, I have not run across one single single man who is within 5 years of my age. Which is probably an answer to a prayer I uttered a long time ago; “Dear God. If it is not part of your divine plan for my life to re-marry, keep all eligible single men away from me so that I won’t be tempted.” Oh be careful little mouth what you pray for…

So, anyway, when her and I get together for our talk on how to be happy and single, I’ll tell her the following:
1. Leave the condition of your marital status up to God. If He has a guy picked out for you, He will bring him into your life time at the right time.

2. In the meantime, live a good life. Fill it with people. Lots of people, of varying ages, sizes and backgrounds. Open your home to your friends and your kids’ friends. It will ring with not only laughter, but also with tears and real conversations. Try new things. Do stuff you wouldn’t have done as a married woman. Be random. Spontaneous. You’re free – act like it.


3. Acknowledge that this will likely be the hardest thing you will ever be asked to do – to give up your desire to be married. And decide to be content as a divorced person.

4. And lastly – and this is something I don’t think I’ll ever accomplish – know that even though you were dumped, you are a person of worth. You are not trash. Forgive yourself for the mistakes you made, but believe that you are not ugly, second rate, fat, damaged, inferior or unlovable.

And Chandler is mine. She can dream about someone else.



Twenty reasons I’m thankful I’m not married:
1. I’d have to move the laptop to the floor if I shared my bed with a husband.
2. Suppers would likely have to consist of more than Froot Loops and Ichiban soup.
3. My method of bookkeeping (maintaining a loose idea of roughly how much money I’ve got in my account) would drive a partner mental with frustration.
4. I’ll buy Oreo’s if my kids want Oreo’s.
5. I have the freedom to do stupid things (like take 6 kids to the Fireworks or 12 kids to Creation or forget to turn off the hose or leave my driver’s license in my other jacket or buy another underwire bra because maybe this style won’t stab me when the wire works itself loose) and not worry about irritating a husband who doesn’t understand women.
6. I don’t think there’s anyone who can love my kids enough to be their step-father.
7. Craft nights might be awkward with a man hanging around?
8. I have these (unrealistic?) expectations for what I think a husband should do (like take over the heavy yard work, wash the windows from the outside, keep my oil topped up, know instinctively when I need a foot massage, and write romantic poetry) so maybe it’d be better if I didn’t even go there…Unrealistic expectations are probably how I ended up divorced the first time.
9. Do I really need another male around, generating laundry and tracking in mud?
10. The whole ‘getting naked’ thing freaks me out. Why would I want to expose innocent eyes to the blubber that is my stomach?
11. I would be plucking my chin 24/7 on the off chance that he may want to nuzzle up for a kiss. I’d be mortified if he came in for a smooch (and didn’t give me a 2 hour warning to get things tweezed) and he ended up getting a rash from my bristly whiskers to scratching his face. And, just as importantly, I’d be disappointed if, during that 20 minute window of smooth skin opportunity he was too busy clipping his toe-nails to smother me with tender kisses.
12. Sometimes I go for weeks without shaving my legs.
13. Chances are the fantasy husband in question here will not come to me all shiny and new. He’s likely going to be divorced and have some kids and a whole lotta baggage. Am I capable of loving someone that much that I’d welcome step children, children in law, parent’s in law, probable ex’s and some deep seated marriage issues that will require years and years of therapy to unwrap? I question my ability to love.
14. What if he has whitish skin and doesn’t like to tan?
15. I love the freedom to be spontaneous and answerable to no one. If I feel like going for a walk at midnight with Clint, I do. If I want to meet a friend for coffee, I go. If I decide to take a nap at 5 pm and then stay up til 2 am, I do. If at 11 pm I’m hungry for a hotdog and I don’t have any fresh buns, I just haul my sorry butt down to Safeway and buy a dozen – whether it makes sense to do that or not. I think I might be resentful having to check with someone else as to what their plans for me are.
16. I can wear flowered skirts and comfortable underwear without being mocked.
17. I can buy the People magazine every week even though I really only look at the pictures. And when I decide I’m being wasteful I’ll stop.
18. Contrary to my belief 8 years ago that I was a perfect wife, I’m not convinced I have what it takes to be a good marriage partner. There are days when I long for someone to love me enough to accept me fully-flawed ‘n all – but call me crazy, I just don’t think there are guys out there who are interested in overweight, kinda-goofy middle-aged women who have children, friends, baggage, closets full of craft supplies and dream about sitcom TV stars.
19. I don’t have room in my house for any of his furniture, clothes, knick-knacks or the inevitable beer bottle collection. I kinda like my house the way it is. A husband would want to have a few things done his way. I’ve noticed that men are quite particular about the way a dishwasher is stacked. Or how many chippies one has cluttering up her garage.
20. And my friends? Exended family? They’d all have to like him. The screening process would be exhaustive. How awkward would it be to get married to someone that no one else liked? No one would invite us over for dinner. Or to join them to see Pirates. Or let us camp with them at Creation. The heartache. The disappointment. The shunning,

I’m so thankful I’m single.