I continued online dating with a vengeance. I was determined to prove to myself that I could successfully meet a guy and stick it out with him for the long term. I would stop expecting the ‘happily ever after’ and simply take on each new step as it came along.

Along came Vince. I really liked Vince. He was smart and he made me laugh. I committed to living in the middle ground with this guy. And I was prepared to bend over backwards to do so.

So I looked the other way when I discovered he was in an ugly and very costly custody battle over his beloved Schnoodle and Yorkiepoo from his previous marriage. . . “my lawyer adds a couple thousand dollars a month to my six figure debt” 6 figure debt? He was a guitar teacher!?! “buy hey, there’s always bankruptcy!”

Still, he was really good with my kids, Bringing enthusiasm to our weekend adventures.

And I looked the other way when he admitted that he was not particularly attracted to my shape. . . “I generally like girls a little more petite” he stated “but you’re okay”. . .

Still he complemented the rest of me all the time, noticing every new outfit and hair style with enthusiastic appreciation.

And I even looked the other way when he suggested I do something about my ‘full bush’. “Full bush?” I asked. “Bikini waxing.” He said. “You know, a landing strip”. “What the heck?” I thought. “You don’t wax??” Lisa interrogated. “Oh Christine, you have to! Men expect it these days.” Deflated by yet another modern day dating issue that made me feel old fashioned and out of date, I came up with a compromise. “I’ll do it if you’ll pay for it?” I offered Vince. He snorted, and although the subject never came up again, I became increasingly self-conscious about that part of my body.

Still we had mind blowing sex frequently – I couldn’t get enough of him! He was by far the best lover I’d ever had.

As I lived in the middle ground in my relationship with Vince, I hoped I was on the right track. “This time it’s got to work!”

But then, out of the blue, Vince dumped me. Via text. “Something is not right. I wish you the best. Goodbye.”

After all I had done? I had put up with so much!

I texted him back, demanding an explanation. No reply. I texted him again accusing him of being afraid of commitment. He blanked me. I texted him one last time proclaiming he’d some day think of me as ‘the one that got away’ and that he’d be filled with regret and it was too late anyhow, I was gone. . . no response.

I was livid! “how could he?” I thought as I was chopping the mushrooms for dinner. “He must have intimacy issues!” chop chop chop “Clearly he’s a troubled individual!” chop, chop, chop “I was the best thing that ever happened to him!” chop, chop, chop “I am a CATCH!” chop, chop, chop “My God, I’ve worked so hard and I’m still so completely alone!!!!????” CHOP! – I felt a sting. I looked down and saw blood spilling out of my hand. I had cut the shit out of my thumb.

“Fuuucccckkkk!” I yelled. I was alone and in a moment of hysteria and panic I decided to call the Health-link “You need to get to Emergency immediately” the nurse announced “Are you alone?”

“Am I alone?”. . . Am I alone? I AM completely alone and I will be for the rest of my entire life!” and in that moment, I felt a switch deep down inside me flip. The switch that was holding me together. The switch that was motivating me to prove that I could succeed in a relationship. I could now see it was pointless. I was and would always be a complete failure. I felt myself unravel and started to cry. And cry. And cry. Sobbing, I answered the nurse, “Yes! Yes I am alone!”

The tone in the nurse changed, the tone I knew all too well that was reserved for people who were on the verge of plummeting off the edge. “I want you to stay on the phone with me, mm-kay? Now, who can WE ask for a ride to emergency?” I considered my nearest and dearest. It was summer. Everyone was out of town.

I texted Vince. “I’ve cut my hand and I need a ride to the hospital” Finally a response! “Christine you need to let this go. Get over it. I’ve moved on.”

I hung up and grabbed an Uber. 5 hours and 5 stitches later, plus many more tears shed on impatiently empathetic nurses, I left the hospital alone, dry eyed and weary.

I was surprisingly calm for the first time in days – no months – hang on a second – since before I met Vince! . . . “GOD! HE WAS A JERK!”

As I looked up at the inky black sky, I noticed the full moon staring down at me with a seeming permanence. I found this quite comforting.

‘What happened to me today?’ I reflected. ‘Despite my independence, I seem to have a serious issue around being alone!’