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Getaclewis

I'm a ghostwriter and book editor - there are a lot of amazing and inspirational stories that deserve and need to be told... so I help shape and polish the writing first!

I'm a mom of two teenagers and the wife of an amazing man and, at heart, a loner who doesn't like to be alone. Some days, I want to jump on the bed and laugh joyously and, other times, I can barely suppress the temptation to crawl under the bed and hide from the world. Bi-polar? Nope... just a girl!...

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Diamond in the Rough

Yep, back in my single days, I did the Match.com thang. It was like a shopping cart for cute (and puhlenty of not-so-cute) guys and, hey, what’s not to like about sitting in the depressed comfort of your own home, leisurely scanning row after row, page after page of allegedly available bachelors? Who’s to say you wouldn’t find a diamond in the rough?

Preparing my own profile was, at the time, a fun exercise is Making Myself Sound Wonderful – not to mention a rare opportunity for creative writing that did not involve any book clients or journalistic endeavors!

And so ohhh how I poured it on: about my adventures as a small-aircraft pilot, my certification in scuba, my days as a circus clown-firefighter-ER nurse-trash collector-janitor-lunchroom lady-roadside crew-landfill crusher operator-journalist extraordinaire. Naturally, I shared my love of kicking up leaves in the fall and walking hand in hand along deserted beaches and sliding down sleek hills in cardboard boxes. I regaled them with the mysteries of darkroom developing and the hushed sanctity of motherhood. I even eagerly pledged to toss back a beer or two.

I did NOT mention my history of failed marriages or current state of spending entire afternoons languishing under my bed, staring at the support slats, tucking bits of batting back in place, peering around warily for any signs of lions, tigers or bears. My insides may have been alternately solemn or mutely screeching HELP ME, but the exterior I slid toward them like a baited hook was nothing but sunny, well adjusted and delicious.

I was not alone.

One of the first guys I met was extremely likable. From our earliest communications, he was engaging, funny and his photos even showed promise of actually yielding handsome. (My standard at the time was ever so “give ‘em a chance, no matter the face.” After all, it was what was INSIDE that mattered, right? Never mind that you might need a paper sack with very colorful markers to inspire physical attraction!)

As he strode toward me that first time in the parking lot of a restaurant, I breathed a sigh of relief. He was cute! And smiling broadly. Wrapping his arm around me, he ushered me inside and an evening of laughter and instant connection followed.

Woot! Match.com rawked! I couldn’t believe I’d struck gold so early in the hunt.

Since he was new to town and knew few people, I began to include him in my rounds of corporate parties and church gatherings. My friends adored him. He was warm and transparent – and vulnerable. His wife had died of cancer and he had spent the past year and a half in Australia with her family, grieving. His tragedy touched us all and, sure, if he drank a bit too much, far be it from me to step in where loss had not yet left off. We dried his tears and cushioned him with friendship.

Within that first month, my days of sadness and feeling intensely alone had shifted into shards of hope and companionable belonging. I could tell the same was true for him. It was too soon to tell, but he showed true promise of becoming my boyfriend! Sure, all the rest of what wasn’t working in my life continued to be real, but it seemed so much less pressing in the light of romance. I could dry my own tears later.

And then came the day we bellied up to the bar to watch another Sunday afternoon football game…

A few beers in, he decided there was something he needed to confess. He didn’t want to tell me, he said, because he was afraid I wouldn’t like what he felt he should share. Glibly unconcerned, I urged him onward, assuring him that truth is always the best foundation for any relationship. Surely we could find our way from there.

And then everything came unglued.

Well, he began, his nose had not actually been broken in a farm accident, he explained. In truth, there had been a fight in a parking lot – over a woman. With a crowbar. Incarceration was involved. And, in reality, that woman had become his wife. In fact, that woman had become his wife who didn’t actually die of cancer. To be truthful, she didn’t actually die. They had gone to Australia to get a divorce, since property division in Florida was so unforgiving and he wanted a better deal. So he had been there for six months, rather than a year and a half.

And now… for the kicker…

…he expected the divorce should be final in about six months or so.

“C’mon Cheryl, we haven’t been living together or anything,” he said, pleading. “It really should be final by spring.”

Yep, I did internet dating all right.

Oh, if only that were the only story I could tell. There was also the fella who, the night before we were scheduled to trek to Colorado for a music fest after we’d been dating nine months, met his former girlfriend in a parking lot to give her the engagement ring he’d been saving for her all these years. She was nice enough to write to me to share the good news.

“C’mon Cheryl, it wasn’t like I was going to use that ring for anything,” he said, pleading. “She still wanted it and might as well have it. It was only two carats.”

Diamond in the rough, my a**.