This week holds multiple anniversaries for me.
I was discharged from the US Army on November 3, 1999. It was quite a couple days, let me tell you. The day before, I had flown to Brussels from the UK to out-process. When I arrived at the airport in Brussels, while waiting for the train, I discovered that I was wearing two different boots. They were the same style, just different colors.
I didn't speak French except for a few phrases. I had no occasion to ask "Voulez vous couchez avec moi, se soir," but I did have multiple opportunities to say, "Je ne parlez pas Francais." I ended up on the wrong train...well, the right train, just going in the wrong direction. After a struggle communicating with the conductor who didn't speak a lick of English, I finally figured out I had to get off the train and head back to Brussels.
In Brussels, I got off the train to figure out which train I should be on. As the train I had just departed left the station, I realized I should be on it. A couple calls back to my base to let them know I wasn't going to get to the out-processing center before it closed, some tears when the people there weren't helpful at all, and finally I'm on the right train.
The next day, I head to the out-processing center in civilian clothes and my different colored boots because no way did I have time to change out of my uniform before I had to leave to catch my flight, and more chaos ensued. The retired first sergeant handling my out-processing would not give me my DD-214 (discharge papers) until he had a copy of the certificate from the Transition Assistance Program (TAP). I called my husband in England, but he couldn't find it. More tears, which made the retired first sergeant so uncomfortable that he not only finished my paperwork, he gave me a ride to the train station.
Waiting for my flight, I had a pasta dinner at this little bistro inside the airport and I swear, it was the best meal of my life. Freedom tastes oh so sweet.
Fast forward to November 4, 2018...I'm cleaning my bedroom, avoiding my husband and what has turned into a bad relationship after he cheated two years prior. Couples counseling didn't help and after going to therapy on his own only three times, he refused to go, not walking to talk to a stranger about his problems. That means he didn't talk to anyone, and in hindsight I can say it turned our home into a toxic environment. While cleaning, I got a shooting pain on my right side, just under my breast. Since I was already in a bad state emotionally, it sent me into a full blown panic attack. I was paralyzed and hyperventilating. My husband happened to come upstairs and after a couple minutes, I told him to call 911. My EMT neighbor, who lived just across the driveway was the first to respond, and immediately acknowledge that it was a panic attack, to which I was grateful. Four more EMTs and the police officer on duty arrived, and I was strapped to a backboard and carried down the stairs and out of my house to the ambulance. My kids were completely freaked out, and who could blame them.
My husband came to the hospital with my daughter, who was just shy of 13 at the time, and he proceeded to leave her there with me while he went off and did who knows what for a couple hours. It was at that point that I knew our marriage was over and I started working out in my head how and when the divorce process would start.
The ER ended up ordering a CT scan and this is when Arnold the Nefarious Klingon was discovered taking up residence on my right kidney. I was initially told it was likely a cyst. Another CT scan revealed it was a solid mass. It was at this point that divorce planning got put on hold - I could only handle one trauma at a time.
A referral to a urologist, a biopsy, and an MRI later, and surgery gets scheduled for February 6th. It is only after Arnold is removed that it is confirmed to be cancer - renal cell carcinoma stage 1A. So basically the panic attack saved my life and my kidney because I had no symptoms at this point. I decided to name my anxiety Daisy and have a positive relationship with her.
Jump ahead two more years and two days to November 6, 2020...the day started with me having a First Friday of November lunch with my BFF...it's not a deliberate thing, but it is something we seem to do almost every year. There is nothing better than spending time with the person you trust most in the world. We've been best friends since the day we met in 1976.
Then I was off on my first First Date in over 25 years.
To say I was nervous is an understatement. I mean, was this guy a serial killer or a rapist? Or was he genuinely the nice man he portrayed himself to be in our chat for the past couple weeks? I chose a public place - Starbucks, which, of course, was closed for seating due to Covid. When I pulled into the parking lot, I didn't see him, so I hit the drive-through and got myself a chai latte (chai makes everything better). When I came back around, he was sitting on the tailgate of his truck.
I parked next to him and came around. His truck was jacked up, so I needed a little help getting up on the tailgate. It wasn't graceful, but he said it was a great excuse for him to get his hands on me, which I didn't mind at all. He was cute and sweet and we hung out for a couple hours before he had to get home to take care of his dogs. There was some kissing - which was weird in that I had only kissed one person for the past 25 years - but it was also nice. We'd have a couple more dates in November before he ghosted me - which was fine, because I had come to realize the relationship wasn't going to go anywhere.
A couple of my friends were concerned that I was on a dating app so soon after giving my husband his walking papers. I assured them I was just having fun and was honest about the fact I was rebounding. Also, I had pretty much been alone emotionally for the past 4 years - since the first time he cheated - so it was refreshing to have the attention of a man (or several, LOL). I had no expectations of falling in love or meeting "the one." I think I had 11 chats going on at one point, and went on dates with 2 other men in November - another who ghosted me even though we had a fabulous first date, and one who was just damn creepy, wore way too much cologne, and talked way too much about his ex-wife.
I settled into a long distance relationship in December, until he too ghosted me three months later (again, fine, because I had once again realized the relationship wasn't going anywhere, but I wanted to break up face to face - I'm so old fashioned that way), then another bad first date (he talked way too much about his income) and creepers on the dating app (like Nipple Guy) before I met my current guy (pictured - aren't we adorable!!). We've been together 7 months now (as of November 2nd) and it is a nice, no-pressure relationship. He's bought stickers for my motorcycles and given me loose leaf tea - two paths straight to my heart. LOL
Anyhow, happy milestone week to me. Tell me about your first date post-break-up adventures!!
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