"Sometimes I fantasize about getting married again," I said to my friend Rachel. We both looked at each other stunned — even I couldn't believe the words that had just come out of my mouth.

"But," I continued, "I don't really see the point."

Both statements are true.

There is a part of me that dreams of sharing that bond with someone again. This is the more emotional part. But the other part — the more cynical part — says, why even bother?

Consider the cost of marriage (which can really be anywhere from fifty bucks to fifty thousand bucks — and even more if you're totally insane), factor in  the sky-high rate of divorce, then throw in the cost of getting a divorce. Truthfully, marriage can seem like nothing but a bad investment. And that does even cover the emotional energy that you'll spend, the heartbreak that you'll endure, or the cost of your therapist.

It's 2008, and the rules have changed. People live together for years without being married — something that once upon a time was frowned upon. Now, single women give birth to babies every day. Quite simply, times have changed and sometimes it seems that marriage is becoming more and more outdated.

But then why does that other piece of me yearn for it?

What is it about marriage that despite the obvious pain in the ass that it can be, that keeps up coming back for more? 

Since I've sworn off dating for a bit, it seems as if a huge wave of relief has washed over me. I hadn't realized before how stressful dating has been for me. Up until now, I hadn't realized that I'd been trying to fill a void — a big gaping hole left by Levi — with other men. The one word that pretty much sums it all up: rebound.

Shit. For all of the progress that I've been making, I've only just realized that I've been on the rebound for a year.

Oh, well. Better late than never.

So, here's the good news about not dating.

I seem to have an endless amount of time. Before, I was always scrambling to get things done and now although I still scramble somewhat, the rush has been taken down several notches; and for that, I am extremely grateful.

With all of that extra time, I've found several more hours to play with my boy. He's my greatest love, and there is nothing that gives me as much joy as simply playing with him.

There's no drama. This is a huge one. No discussing men with my friends, no fretting over missed or non-existent phone calls. No trying to decipher what he "actually means." No trying to figure out the rules of the latest dating "game." Just simplicity. Boy, did I need that!

And finally, and perhaps the biggest perk, I don't have to trouble myself with such things as shaving. Yeah shaving, I've discovered, is really optional if you're not dating. An option I've been exercising quite well. So well, in fact, that when I lifted my arms up above my head this morning, my jaw dropped. I didn't know I could even grow that much hair under there!

(Confession: I quickly shaved. Perhaps I should modify this perk from no shaving to shaving less often.)

Before Levi I was never capable of having "emotionless, no strings attached, sex." Being somewhat of a hopeless romantic, I couldn't even fathom such a thing. I wanted love, I wanted passion, I wanted romance. Everything else just seemed dull.

After Levi though, I completely understood. I didn't want a relationship. I didn't want to hear about anybody's problems. I didn't want to go out to dinner. But I did, sometimes, want to have sex. So, no strings attached sex became my "thing." Being new to that game I quickly discovered a few things.

1. There is no such thing as "no strings attached sex." Sure everyone talks a good game, men especially. But when you actually start playing you realize that emotions creep up (obviously varying) no matter what the situation. We are human, we have emotions. Damn.

2. These "relationships" are actually harder to manage because in between having sex all you're talking about is how great it is that you're not getting attached, how awesome it is that you're not in a relationship, how not jealous you are, etc. When actually, you are in denial, or at least one of you is.

3. As a result of all of that, these relationships oftentimes have messier break-ups than traditional relationships. Why? Because neither party was being completely honest and that is bound to hurt someone's feelings.

I just found this out again. And this time, it was my feelings that got hurt.

Found myself engaging with a man that I had already known for a bit who is also going through a divorce. We found ourselves talking about the divorce process at a party one night. Shortly thereafter we found ourselves having a "casual fling."

Recently a very good friend of mine called me, "rigid." "Rigid!," I exclaimed. "Me!! Rigid?"

"Yeah, you're rigid," she replied. And then added that in her opinion I've always been "kinda uptight" but since my divorce, it's gotten worse.

We joked around about it then, laughing at each other, and soon it was forgotten and we continued our day. But not long forgotten. On the way home, I kept thinking about it. Arguing with myself.

I'm not rigid, I thought; I'm light, easygoing. Hell, the people at Adrian's daycare have dubbed me "the hippie" — another label I'm not too fond of — and anyway, isn't hippie kind of the opposite of rigid?

So, I did what any girl would do. I called one of my other friends to complain. "Can you believe so-and-so called me rigid?" I asked. "Well, uh, Faith, I don't know how to tell you this but you kind of are. You really could stand to lighten up a bit" was the reply that came from the other end of the line.

She went on to explain that sometimes my friends will joke around with one another about all of my "rules," about the orderly way that I do things; or rather, the way that I do things in order.

And then I started to get it.

I do have a lot of "rules," because for one, it makes me feel in control, and the other obvious reason is that I am a human and by nature we are creatures of habit.

Although I don't believe that this "rigidness" of mine has worsened, I do see myself carrying it over into areas of my life that I hadn't before the Levi Fiasco.

Like dating. I have rules about what days I will go on dates. I will not do lunch dates. And when I'm in a relationship, I won't have sex before five — unless it's a weekend or holiday. Why? It's a direct result of the Levi Fiasco.

I broke up with the boyfriend. We dated for three and a half months — my longest relationship since Levi — and within that time we became good friends. But, as I've previously alluded to, there really wasn't any spark there. 

I had written about this before, pondering whether or not I will ever feel that "spark" again. That giddy, euphoric, love feeling that is just so much fun.  That nervous, sick to my stomach feeling — that only means one thing...trouble.

I have been trying to resign myself to the fact that the intense attraction that I had to Levi — the intensity of our "love" — was immature, and real love should be something else. It should be comfortable and safe, it should be "best friends," etc. But it just seemed too...boring.

Still, I was trying to hang on...stick it out...try something new...put this new "love" hypothesis to the test.

I guess he caught on. I mean why wouldn't he? Three months into the relationship and I'm already making excuses not to see each other. Three months in and we're already squabbling like we've been married for 40 years.

He gave me an ultimatum. He said that either we commit to having a "real" relationship and start building a future together, or we end it. Obviously, I choose to end it.

But, I've ended this mini relationship with much hope for the future. I think there must be something in between crazy love and boring love. I can't wait to find it.

I don't think dating will ever be the same again. It seems impossible to not end up at least slightly jaded after going through the divorce "process." And it seems to me that that makes sense.

I loved Levi with all of my being. I was in such awe of him that it's astounding. I would have done anything and everything for him — and I did. We did everything together. We had big goals, dreams and ambitions; we worked together to achieve them.

So then, it is understandable that after watching those dreams all come crashing down, after understanding that your heart can literally feel broken, that after experiencing the most devastating feelings that one can possibly feel, that you wouldn't want to set yourself up for that again.

I feel sometimes that I am fast-forwarding my current relationship as it happens; like I am writing a book and in a sense, writing our ending. This helps me to feel in control. Being in control is my new comfort zone.

I really like this new guy a lot. I've dated him for three months, which, since Levi, is a new record for me.

Thing is, it doesn't feel like it did before. Only on a rare, fleeting occasion do I ever feel that giddy euphoria, "new love" feeling. Only on occasion do I feel like I'll even care if he leaves.

It's as if I suspect he will.

No matter how hard I try, I can not let my guard down. I'm not sure if I will ever be able to give someone the power to break my heart again. And maybe that's better. Maybe a heart can't be broken twice.

If there is one thing I have learned from this experience of divorce, it is how to disengage, or as I call it, 'The art of disengagement'.

More often than not separations and subsequent divorces are far less than civil and almost all of us have found ourselves totally losing it, at least once.

Personally, I've gone ballistic more times than I even care to admit. This experience is such an emotional roller coaster that the only thing I found comparable to it is pregnancy.

I mean really, one second I'd be all smiles; happy to be single, grateful to be starting over, etc. Then I'd be weepy; missing him and not knowing what I was going to do without him. Then I'd morph into uber bitch mode and scream, yell, and one time I even broke something.

It was an exhausting cycle: happy — sad — bitch.

I think they call that spinning in circles. I distinctively remember actually feeling dizzy; I remember consciously acknowledging this cycle as it was happening, but I couldn't figure out how to break it.

Then it hit me...about five minutes ago.

I'm not the only one going through this. HE's going through it too. Levi is engaged in his own vicious cycle, spinning his wheels, along with me.
I've realized that the longer I play along with him — and by play along I mean take his phone calls, deal with his family, read and / or respond to his e-mails — the longer he'll play along with me.

One of us has to end it and it looks like it's going to be me. As one of my dear friends just told me, "It's like playing a game of catch, if you put the ball down and stop playing, what's he going to do?"

They say the definition of insanity is to repeat the same thing over and over again, expecting different results. Sometimes I wonder if dating is a form of insanity.

Think about it: We date, over and over again – perhaps falling into some form of love (I'm still working on defining the word) – and ultimately, at least thus far, it all falls apart, leaving us feeling empty, broken, despondent, depressed and longing for more.
 
We repeat this process over and over, each time expecting a different result.
 
Each time, we hope that this time it will be different. This time it will work out. This time I've found my prince charming.

My relationship with the new guy is going well, so well in fact that I find myself frightened. So well that I think I may purposely screw it up, just so that I can remain in control.
 
That's the scariest part of a relationship, I think: the feeling that you are out of control. If you fall in love with someone, you give them the power to hurt you.
 
I don't want to be hurt again.

I can't allow myself to be hurt again.

I know this.

I know how far I've come since Levi, and I marvel at it sometimes. I am good now. I am at peace now. I am content now.
 
What I don’t need right now is this giddy, makes-me-want-to-throw-up, happy, butterflies-in-my-stomach feeling.

This waking up next to someone, and reveling in it.
 
These dinners and conversations.
 
This falling in love.

I know he's it, my next big thing. Big heartache or big disappointment or big ... something.
 
It's like I'm on a roller coaster headed for a brick wall, I know I should jump off, but I'm having so much fun that I’ve decided to wait until the absolute last moment.
 
I do not need this right now, but, at the same time, I cannot stop it.

The date went well. Very well, in fact. He seems to be a nice, honest, sincere, smart, and fun guy. Note that I said, "seems to be," because up until now, I wasn't really sure that such an animal existed. I guess I'm still not too sure.

I will say that if I had met him before the “Levi Fiasco” I would have jumped right into this. I would have gone along with the giddy feeling. I would be gushing to all of my friends.

After Levi, I am much more guarded. Now, I can't really feel around all of the walls that I've put up. It's going to be hard, I think, to trust someone again.

I remember falling in love with Levi, and how much fun it was. How euphoric it all felt. How ready I was for it.

I think about it now, I talk to my friends about it now, and I know I'm not ready to do that again. What is "falling in love," anyway? I guess it’s the "falling" part that scares me. Generally speaking, falls are not good. Generally speaking, one hurts oneself in a fall. I know that I couldn't once again deal with the devastation that comes when you lose someone you love. As a result, I worry that I'll never feel the absolute euphoria of giddy, happy, love again.

So for now, I'm just going to take it easy: remain cautious but also try (and try, and try) to relax and enjoy myself. I'll let you know how it goes.

I have a date this weekend — a real date, with a seemingly normal person who is also my age. And it wasn’t just, “So what are you doing tonight?” He asked me out days in advance. I can't remember the last time I've been asked days in advance. I actually don't think I ever have! I am positively giddy.

I met him a few weeks ago, at a meeting. We were both standing outside the building and he just walked over and introduced himself. I was stunned that a rather attractive man was talking to me, so I fumbled and stumbled like an idiot for the entire conversation. I pretty much thought it was over right there. Then I ran into him again, the next day, at a picnic. This time, I only stumbled like an idiot for about an hour. The good thing is that we talked for four hours. The bad thing was that I left without getting his number, and without giving him mine. I felt like a dope. But I ran into him, again, at a Farmers Market. It was 8:30 in the morning. I had just fallen out of bed. I was lugging my son around. And I hadn't even had my coffee. I heard someone yelling my name from across the street. I turned around and there he was. We walked around the market together, had coffee, played with my son, and he even showed me where he lives. This time, I made sure to give him all of my numbers — home, cell, office — and my e-mail. Then I got to sit around and wait for him to call. It took a week, but he did.

The thing was, I was so insecure about it all. I really need to work on that. I know from my own experiences that insecurity is one quality, or rather flaw, that is totally unattractive.

So yes, I have a crush — haven't had one of those since high school! I'm so nervous and excited for our date on Saturday, I'll be sure to let you all know what happens.