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Getting Back in the Saddle for the Last Rodeo
Predators and their prey. Ever watch shark week? I used to be a big fan. It was so disturbing yet fascinating to see such a magnificent and powerful beast rip some poor seal to shreds. Mindless killing machines. Cold dead black eyes. Gliding smoothly with speed and grace.
I am months if not years from being ready to dive back into those deep waters in hopes of emerging with something other than a shark. But I have been entertaining the possibility that at some point, after sufficient healing and reconstitution of my spirit and identity, I might enjoy a companion to share life with.
So in the spirit of future glimmers of hope, I have engaged in conversation with male species at several recent gatherings and events only to come away disenchanted and dismayed. Maybe even a little disgusted. Although I was honest in presenting myself as recently heartbroken, legally still married, and only seeking group friendship activities, I was shocked by their response.
It doesn’t help matters that the rawness of my abandonment at the hands of my feckless husband has left gaping wounds that inflame my already prolific trust and abandonment issues, and I dare to say that my narc radar is on high alert and will remain in code red probably for the rest of my life. Warning, warning, narcissist approaching. Danger, danger, sex addict at 90 degrees. No one is safe.
As I was digging into a plate of vegetarian hash at a recent gathering, one gentleman prodded me with a number of qualifying questions before…