Once David was out of my life, I felt as though my eyes were again wiped clean and my soul was naked, showing itself to me as though I had never seen it. What in the hell had I been doing for three months? I had wasted three whole months with David when I could have been productive with something else or someone else. My dear grandmother once said to me, “Helen, you can’t find the right man if you are with the wrong one all of the time”. Finally, I realized, that Grandma was right. What did I truly want in a man besides unfailing loyalty?

I wasn’t necessarily looking for marriage right away, but I didn’t think I’d had the ability to enjoy a life of solitude. Sometimes getting to know yourself isn’t as enjoyable as one would like. This made me take a much needed step back, to re-examine myself and find out what I was looking for. Was it a man? Or was it just to be happy with myself again? I had a tiny inclination that perhaps it was the latter… it had been awhile since I paid attention to my own needs.

I realize now that I was really looking for myself again. However, I kept muddling up who I was as a result of striving to prove to some man that I was their ideal mate, and losing myself even worse in the process. So, the next weekend when my son visited his father and the concubine, I decided to have “me” time and conquer life rather than be afraid of it.

I am happy to say that although I was terrified to go alone, that weekend I took up several solo projects which included: kayaking (which scared the holy hell out of my family, as they are still convinced that I go white water rafting every time I do this and have a tendency to exaggerate horribly), seeing a movie alone, going to a public event alone, and fighting off a horny firefighter alone. Basically, I just focused on experimenting to see if I actually needed a date with whom to do fun things, or if I was comfortable enough in my own skin to do them on my own.

After kayaking alone, I felt like Wonder Woman, but not for the reason you think. No, I didn’t white water raft through the rapids as my parents thought. I conquered something much bigger this time. I conquered that tiny, little voice inside my head that chirps constantly saying that I always need another person with me to have fun or accomplish anything challenging.

Although it took me a half an hour to drag my kayak over to the water and I tipped my kayak over twice and drenched myself while trying to get in, I really had a lot of fun. Despite the horribly grumpy swan that tried to attack me (thank God I had paddles… don‘t worry PETA lovers, no swans were harmed in the making of this chapter), I was delighted to be reunited with nature that day. Even though I did drop my oar in the water whilst swinging at the hissing, angry bird who was swooping around me in anger, everything was great, I swear. Perhaps I just got too close to her nest.

However, this resulted in me dumping myself out of my kayak once again, while trying to retrieve my oar, (I swear those weren’t tears, it was just water on my face). I then swam alongside my kayak to shore through seaweed, got back in the kayak and went on my merry way. Okay, so I guess it didn’t go that wonderfully. However, no matter how great of a kayaker I turned out to be, the main point of the whole event was that I did it! Alone! Yeah, me!! Once I got back home, I took a shower and washed the nature off of me. I also took down the swan picture that I had hanging in my bathroom. I was suddenly no longer a huge fan of them.

After my shower, I felt so wonderfully empowered, I wanted to continue on with my trip to self discovery. That night, our town was having its annual summer festival and I wanted to go so badly that I could taste it. After being turned down by every single person that I knew would want to go (even the old lady in my building that needs to use a walker), I decided to go alone.

Getting ready was a challenge in and of itself. Men, don’t ever underestimate the importance of a woman feeling her best. If you have to wait a little while for a woman, just sit back and relax… we are actually doing this for you. Anyway, after trying on basically everything in my wardrobe, I decided on a black sundress with little black sandals (as it was July and still very hot). This perhaps was the best part of the night. It was almost like getting ready for a date, and anticipation hung in the air like drops of precipitation.

Finally, when I thought I could do no more with my appearance, I began my two block walk downtown. Since I lived so close, I knew I would be alright. However, I realize now it is easy to feel safe when it is broad daylight as opposed to pitch black at night. I bravely walked downtown in my little clogged sandals and black sundress and my money stuffed in my bra. (This was also a bad idea, just to let you know. Damned hindsight anyway).

As I approached downtown, I could see the vendors in the street and the giant red and white striped tent that looked larger than life. Anticipation caught in my throat, as I had to remind myself to breath. The closer I got, the more bounce I had in my steps and my heart fluttered along with the music booming from inside the beer tent. I realize that this may not sound fun to some of you. However, this is one of the fears that I have needed to conquer since childhood. I have constantly been concerned with what people think about me. Therefore, I have always needed back up when going somewhere, even if it’s just going to the bathroom. I think that the explanation of being a twin and always having a partner in crime may clarify it further.

Either way, I was going to face my fear head on. I was going to chew it up and spit it out! After all, I made it through my interesting kayaking, I mean, soothing kayaking experience, hadn’t I? So, I walked up to the big, red and white striped tent and began nervously looking in my bra to see if I had the right amount of change to get into the tent. When I looked up, I saw a group of guys staring at me and talking. That did it right there. Instead of walking into the beer tent, I ended up walking right past it, and going to see a movie at the little theater on the same corner.

There, I sat for two hours kicking myself in the ass, silently yelling at myself for being such a coward. I knew deep down that I wouldn’t go to that stupid beer tent. This method of self torture worked so well that I ended up walking out of that movie and going up to the beer tent, once again very determined. This time, I was going to do it. “This time,” I said to myself, as I walked up to the entrance, “I would.” I threw my shoulders back, lengthened my stride and… you guessed it. As I came to the entrance, I walked straight past it.

I walked around the block this time, fighting the urge to go home. Instead I called my sister for strength and support. After the laughter began to die down on my sister’s end of the phone, she giddily encouraged me to go and join in on the festivities. So, again, I rounded the block, squared my shoulders in determination and approached the tent. A new group of guys was standing by the entrance and one of them was obviously drunk already. As I began to approach the entrance, he called out to me, “Hey, sexy! Wow guys, look at that hot chic! Is she alone?”

Oh gosh, that did it right there… I practically ran around the block this time, and went to my oh so familiar Starbucks, where I sat with Michael (my favorite flamboyant barista) for almost an hour. I told him my hilarious kayaking experience and after the laughter died down, and he wiped his tears off his cheeks from laughing so hard, and said, “Helen, you HAVE to go. I don’t care if you just stay there for one beer. You have to go. Obviously, this is a weekend of self-discovery for you. You will be so angry with yourself if you don’t.”

After much cajoling from Michael, I decided I was going to do it. “Darn it,” I thought. “I was thinking that he was going to tell me to stay there for the remainder of the night and we could pretend we were the judges on Project Runway as the customers came in.” Off I went, back on my “path to self-discovery”, back to that stupid red and white tent. Finally, however, this time, as I kept chanting, “You can do it, you can do it!” in my head… I finally did it. I entered the tent.

As soon as I entered, I wanted to bolt. I felt like a stray dog that is approaching a kennel. You just have a feeling that nothing good is going to come out of the situation if you enter. But, I had to go in and I had to stay for at least one beer.

Suddenly, the tent began to feel very hot. I began to hyperventilate a little as I looked around. Not only did I want to bolt, I had it in my head that every eye in the place was on me. Of course it wasn’t, but insecurity can convince us of many silly things. I reminded myself of this as I took a deep breath, stepped forward in my high heeled clogs, sucked up my courage, and bought a beer.

As I looked around, I saw that many people were dancing. “Hey!“ I thought, “I love to dance! As a way to celebrate my accomplishment of actually being here by my lonesome, I will dance. I will loosen up a bit with something that is as familiar to me as walking. I will dance my cares away!“ So, as I stepped onto the dance floor, I did my best to try and blend into the crowd and dance.

Let me ask you this question, before I go onto tell you how awkward I felt. Have you ever gone to some strange place, with no one that you know around and tried to dance? It was as if I had forgotten all of my moves that I had practiced in front of the mirror before I left. (I didn’t really do that, I swear. Okay. I did. But admit it… we all do it, don‘t we? Come on, no one is looking at you… you can all admit that you dance in front of the mirror in the bathroom.) Anyway, back to the story… bottom line, I felt like a complete buffoon who has lost her beat. Even with the 80’s cover band and “The Summer of Sixty-Nine” playing, I couldn’t get my beat. I felt as if parts of me were swaying to the wrong beat, and I actually caught myself snapping my fingers and bobbing my head a time or two.

Actually, looking back now, I imagine I looked a lot like Elaine on Seinfeld, when she was trying to dance. For those of you who are not Seinfeld watchers, imagine a woman who is throwing her arms out and her legs out at the same time, while eagerly bobbing her head and snapping her fingers in the opposite of what the beat actually is. All this, while trying to look inconspicuous and holding a beer…it just wasn’t happening.

After my last attempt of trying to dance and hoping no one was watching, but feeling every eye in the place on me, I almost fell as my ankle rolled in my sandal. Thankfully, I caught myself on a nearby pole and nervously looked around to see if anyone had seen me. “Thank God!“ I thought, as I seemed to have avoided anyone’s amused eye. However, as I came full circle on my survey of the room, an old drunk guy in tattered clothes, with about three teeth, smiled brightly at me, held up his beer, and gave me a thumbs up.

I thought, “Okay, that’s it. I am done. Trip to self-discovery officially sucks. As of right now, David’s rant doesn’t seem so bad after all”. So, I quickly moved past the staring guys and started to leave. However, my feet just wouldn’t let me walk any further toward the exit. Ridiculously, I hid behind a pole that was holding up the tent. I felt like a little kid who was trying to make myself invisible. I had the desperate mentality of, “If I can’t see you, then you can’t see me,” and felt like closing my eyes, so they would all just go away.

Suddenly, however, as I looked ahead of me in my new location, like a bright beacon of hope from behind the pole, I saw a guy who went to the neighboring high school where I grew up, standing at a table playing beer pong. (This is a drinking game where people try to throw ping-pong balls into cups of beer. If one misses, they have to drink a beer.) It is pretty idiotic game that is designed to basically give people an excuse to get drunk. However, when one is desperately uncomfortable, sometimes, they will take dire actions to try it.

I was not only excited to see his handsome face at the possible prospect of him asking me out, but also because seeing a familiar face in a sea of strange faces is soothing. Especially since my home town is about 150 miles away from where I am now. So, I threw my shoulders back yet again, put on my “sexy” look, and walked over to Jason.

Just to give you a better picture of who he was, Jason was the golden boy of his school. He was not only handsome, but a very good athlete whom everyone liked. He has a magnetic type of personality that attracts people simply because he is such a charismatic guy, and he is the same age as me. In other words, he was the perfect candidate to start dating. So, when I saw his face and he gave me his goofy little smile as soon as he saw me, my heart did a little back flip and my hopes of having a good night after all were renewed.

As I began my saunter over to him, I couldn’t help but notice that he was playing beer pong with kids who looked more than ten years younger than us. However, I looked past the fact of this tiny detail because I was so desperate. I needed something to recover from my “smooth” dance moves. I needed… anything at this point. Otherwise, I was going to either go see another movie, go get ice cream, or go home to sulk. Since none of those were acceptable options, I finally approached the table that resembled a fraternity party.

I walked up to him very enthusiastically because Jason was a guy that I’d had yet another crush on in high school. However, back then, I was too shy to approach him, so I would admire him from the sidelines during track meets. My enthusiasm died a little when I approached him and saw the glint of his silver wedding band, as he tipped up a cup to drink beer with his cohorts. All I could think was, “What a stupid game. I have reached an all-time low. I am cavorting with a man who hangs out with high school students. On top of it, he isn’t even single. Yippee!” (I later found out that he was a high school teacher, so I know that I avoided a creep after all, despite being disappointed at first).

Rather than walk away like I should have, Jason invited me to join in on their ridiculous game of beer pong. Instead of listening to my conscience that was shouting at me to go meander and try to mingle with people, I proceeded to play beer pong with these children who were born in the 90’s. Unfortunately, after about three minutes of playing and laughing with Jason, he left. So, there I was, standing at a filthy table that had puddles of beer sloshed on it and losing to a bunch of kids when it came to my turn every time. EVERY SINGLE TIME.

I am not by any stretch of the imagination considering myself old at 31. However, I felt at that moment like the mom who was trying to be cool and drink with her kids. I wanted to cry, but I laughed instead, as I lost time and time again to these kids who were mere freshmen in college.

You know what happens next without even having to guess. I, for about the seventh time in my life, got drunk. Not only was I drunk, I also had to walk home in the dark – alone. By the way, did I ever tell you that I am afraid of the dark? Add that to my criteria section, match.com and suck on it!

Now I had a whole new ball of wax to deal with. Although I appreciated not feeling anymore like Jan Brady at a family reunion, I hated the thought of potentially being beaten up, tackled, or anything else that my imagination could dream up, while walking home.

Luckily, I recognized the police and fire fighters of my town and walked up to them. For some reason, our town is one of many in a large county in Michigan. We are known for having hot firefighters and policemen. This was not going to be a hard crew to approach or ask for a walk or ride home. As I approached the group of Brad Pitt look-alikes, I made eye contact with a very cute fire fighter whom I had seen earlier that day in the parade through our town. I was delighted that he smiled at me, but even more delighted that he wasn’t wearing a ring. What an idiot I am to assume that all married men wear wedding rings.

After talking to him for about twenty minutes and seeing how friendly he was, he convinced me that he was the one out of the group who should walk me home because he said that he would be my protector. He said he was a nice guy whom I could trust, unlike his cohorts. He even said that, although he wasn’t wearing a ring, he was married, so I could trust him. Oh gosh, how stupid we women can be.

That night was a beautiful night and we walked and had quite a nice little conversation on the walk back to my place. As we approached my building, I thanked him very much for escorting me home. As I opened the door to my building, however, he held the door open and looked at me with sumptuous eyes.

“Um, thanks again”. I said, ignoring his gaze. “That wasn’t an invitation to come into my place. I know what sort of things happen when men are invited in…and that is not my style. Plus, you are married”.
“Oh, no… it’s just…” He let his voice trail off and quickly finished, “It’s just… I’m a firefighter and since I am, I would like to see the building structure to check it out.”
“Well, okay,” I said. “I will show you around and then you can go. Don’t think this is an invitation for anything more.“ Gosh, if I had been Goldilocks, the big bad wolf would have been picking his teeth within seconds of greeting me at the door. Yes, I fell for this ridiculous line.
People with titles such as policemen or firefighters are thought of as angels, yet even they can turn out to be devilish.

We climbed the stairs to my apartment and I quickly showed him my place, leaving the door open the whole time. I didn’t want this guy actually thinking that he was going to get anywhere with me, especially because my judgment was clouded by beer. As I turned around to tell him about my kitchen (yes, I am naïve enough at this point to still think that he wanted to see the building structure), I saw that he had taken his shoes, socks, and shirt off and was starting to unbuckle his belt. I walked toward him flabbergasted and he held out his arms.

“What in the hell are you doing? You‘re married. You wanted to see the building!” I exclaimed. “You, my dear, are going to have to go into someone else’s apartment to check out the “building structure”. You are lucky I don’t tell your boss. Get out!” I said as I threw his clothes and shoes out the door.

Thankfully, just then, Mrs. Brown, came out in the hallway (thank God I am nice to the very grumpy, very old, African American woman named Mrs. Brown who has cataracts, but is still as sharp as a tack).

“You alright, honey?” She said in her raspy voice. “You need me to kick someone in the keister for you? I can call my son, we from Detroit. We know how to defend ourselves”.
“Oh no, Mrs. Brown, I am just fine. Our friend here was just leaving,” I said, as I gave him a little push and pointed toward the stairs. As she folded her arms in her nightgown, she shook her head covered in those pink spongy curlers and threatened his life again.

Thank God for allies. Mrs. Brown thankfully never mentioned that incident again, but every now and then she asks me if I need anything. I never again saw that firefighter, despite it being a small town. Perhaps he crawled back into his hole… the cheating son of a….

Anyway! Basically, my introductory trip to self discovery was an interesting one. From my weekend, I learned a few key points about myself and about life:
1. Being alone can be enjoyable after you get over the point of caring what other people think of you. I have yet to reach that point, but hey, I am a work in progress.
2. When kayaking, make sure you have someone help you push your damned kayak up the shore and into the water.
3. Always hold onto your oar when using it as a weapon against swans. Bring a change of clothes with you for the car ride home, in case that plan doesn’t go so well.
4. Don’t trust someone just because they are wearing a uniform. (Even if they are dashingly handsome).
5. Money kept in your bra is smart, though hard to inconspicuously retrieve in a crowd.
6. Always, always, always take a chance on yourself and be nice to your grumpy, old neighbors. They can come in handy sometimes!
7. It is possible to find even a scrap of humor in the unlikeliest of situations. Laugh at yourself! It will keep you sane…
8. Continue online dating, but learn from experiences.

To read Gigi’s Part VI, see The Adventures of a Thouroughly Confused Gigi – Part VI