Haunted by ExSex

By Peter Ehrlich

I’m haunted by my Ex Katherine. Not by that went wrong with our relationship, but what went right with our relationship – our love life.

After being laid naked, fetal-positioned, paralyzed, and wanting by our breakup, I want to attempt a sequel with my Ex. I am willing to work harder on our vertical life together for the sake of getting back to our spectacular horizontal life together. How much harder? I am willing to change.

But am I being naïve? Or is a fulfilling love life worth fighting extra hard for? Should I be happy with what I had, count my blessings and move on?

Katherine and I were two completely different people with two completely different sets of values. Katherine was whimsical, perky and light-hearted defined by a Martha Stuart palette of powder blues, pinks and floral arrangements.

Until Katherine came along, I didn’t know what the word whimsical meant. The word came up when she tried to tell me what kind of stuff she liked in her home. I actually had to ask her to explain the word whimsical to me.

Once I understood its meaning, I knew that I was the Anti-Christ of whimsical. I gravitate towards mute colours and images that were popular in the Middle Ages –gentle brown tones of mud mixed in with a dollop of existential or “*Eeyorian” angst. (*Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh)

I am more “whimsi-bleak” or “whimsi- the world is a *charnel house” kind of guy. (*Reference = Samual Beckett’s Waiting for Godot.)

I suppose if I asked Katherine what a charnel house was, she would reply, “Oh goody, I’m in the mood for a barbeque.”

Her Hugh Grant, Sandra Bullock-type film choices represented somewhat of a counterpoint to my Stalingrad, The Wehrmacht in Russia, Sin City or Gladiator preferences.

And finally, she loved her two cats the way I love my son, but my attitude towards pets (or people) is; if you can’t flush the toilet, get the hell out!

And so, you would think that breaking up with this woman would be a simple matter. Once broken up, I wouldn’t have to worry about my testicles being slashed by her jealous cats and I could watch whatever movie I wanted in my brown living room.

But it hasn’t been a simple matter. In fact, it’s been living hell. Sometimes I lay on the floor, unable to focus on much. Well, I can do this; Face flattened on the floor, I try to differentiate between the carpet fibres and carpet mites.

Why so f***ed up? My Ex and I may not have been soul mates (whatever the hell that is) but we sure as hell were once-in-a-lifetime sexmates.

Together Katherine and I had a wonderful, unabashed, deeply connected love life that was framed by a natural and mutual caring and trust.

Horizontal we were a match made in heaven and the relationship was effortless. Unfortunately, vertically, we were at odds and the relationship took work. We had a lot of fun together, a lot of laughs, and travelled well together, but our relationship, like many, could only succeed if you “checked in” a lot because we were very different kinds of people, defined by a different set of values.

But I didn’t check in a lot and we dissolved.

Here’s the conundrum. In any relationship, there is always something “qualitative” about the nature of your union. Consequently, there is always room for a sense of doubt. For example, “she does this well, but doesn’t do that well. He makes me happy this way, but not in that way”, etc. etc.

However, when you have a great love life together, that’s not qualitative, it’s absolute! And isn’t absoluteness exactly what we crave in our relationships? Extreme pleasure is absolute and addictive and life seems too short to live without it. Try harder I say.

So here’s the question-how far should we go to try to make a relationship work because you have a great sex life with your partner?

If you’re waiting for me to come up with an answer, forget it.

I haven’t a clue right now. I’m still talking to carpet mites.

How much do I miss sex with the Ex? Let me put it this way; “Katherine darling, it’s done. I’ve piled up all my brown furniture in the backyard together with my testosterone/war-themed DVDs. Got a match?”

Yes, I’m willing to compromise and try to have another go at our relationship, because a day doesn’t pass when I don’t think of my Ex, the road trips, the laughs and of course, our love life.

“Never give up on someone you can’t go a day without thinking about.” I read that from a stranger’s page on Facebook that was devoted to the millions of us suffering from a broken heart.

There’s another reason why I’m thinking of making contact with my Ex again. These words drifted into my head after I made a half-hearted effort to spend time with someone else; “After he kissed someone new, he found himself unintentionally whispering his Ex’s name, out loud, as if he were accepting the moment as a penance for his sins, rather than the celebration of life it was supposed to be.”

Just because I lie on the carpet floor, talk to mites and hear voices in my head doesn’t mean I’m haunted by my Ex does it?

Of course it does.

Feel free to contact Peter at peter@geronimocode.com

to tell him your own haunting story.

Peter Ehrlich’s New Bedtime Fantasy

By Peter Ehrlich
I want to talk about my newest, ongoing, “driving me forward” sexual fantasy. This twisted new fantasy is the new fuel that has launched me to join yet another dating site and contact virtually every single woman between the ages of 42 and 52. I can go to any dating site now and know the bio of most Toronto women right down to their astrological sign. That’s how passionate I feel about doing whatever needs to be done to live my out this perverted dream.

Are you curious to know what the fantasy is?

I thought so, so with no further ado, here it is: A good woman, lying beside me in bed, in flannel pajamas, toes touching, heads propped up – reading together in silence.

(Ah yes, to be comfortable in your silence together. There is no better barometer for your relationship. The wonderful, kind and insightful Michael Kaufman once told me that – www.michaelkaufman.com.)

Nothing these days is turning me on more than that image. I don’t “take care of myself” to the vision of the image, rather, I may let out a sigh, exhaled under the cool abyss of my blankets. After the sigh, I turn on my side to embrace the only thing I can embrace – my pillow.

Sick eh? I’m a young baby-boomer. My sexual formative years happened during the golden age, a time before HIV, when every girl and they were just girls back then, was on the pill. Evolutionarily speaking, that time came and went in the blink of an eye. But I was in smack in the middle of it, acting out my fantasies like I was a young Caligula, but with a good heart. Back then, my penis made almost all of my life-decisions for me. I’m still playing catch-up.

What happened? I got older. I did. Two of The Beatles have long since passed and there’s no need for another notch on my bed.

A long time ago, I watched lonely, divorced, isolated detective Al Pacino pull up beside a hooker and ask her to get in. She then asked him what he had in mind. “I just want you to sleep with me”, and he handed her one hundred dollars. She was dumbfounded of course, but CUT TO: the hooker awake, spooning Al, who was fast asleep in a fetal position.

I remember what did Commodus told Lucilla in Gladiator when he was watching her son sleep; “He sleeps well, because he knows he is loved”. I never forgot that moment. And so, Al Pacino could finally sleep well. It mattered not that it was a hooker, all women, and I mean all women have a serious nurturing side that begs to be appreciated.

I’m in the mood to sleep well too now. I didn’t care back then. I do now.

My son Noah, nineteen, not only left the nest, but he’s trekking around in Chile and Costa Rica with his girlfriend. The bedroom I built for him stares back to me in mocking silence. His only presence is manifested by the maps of Chile on the wall so I can follow his wanderings from 5,000 miles away.

I never understood why the elderly fed pigeons. I do now.

I never understood the notion that as you got older, “companionship” becomes more important. I do now. It’s the stuff that we who have trod so many miles deserve and require to be happy.

I can go no further with this column without puffing out my chest to remind you, and myself, that when the primal calls for it, this Satyr is still enthusiastic about answering the siren call, to gallop on to fulfill said equestrian duty. But my “performance menu” for an evening’s festivities and frolicking must now include “comfortable in silence” moments and that’s new.

There was a time in my single fatherhood where I could revel in my celibacy. That era is over with now.

Now it’s time to revel and live out my new bedtime fantasy – lying in bed with a “partner”, in flannel pajamas, toes touching, heads propped up, reading a good book, comfortable in our silence.

I feel so human today.

Feel free to contact  Peter at   peter@geronimocode.com

How soon in new relationship to introduce your kids?

This conversation comes up often and the feedback I get is mixed. So I figured it would be a great topic for discussion.

How soon after beginning a new relationship should you introduce your kids?

I have been a big believer in waiting until you are sure the relationship is for real. No need to bring someone into your children’s life  only to have them gone sooner or later. I have been challanged by others who say they do not even want to begin building a serious relationship until they see how they interact with their kids.

What has been your experience and thoughts on this issue?

10 Steps to a Happy, Healthy Remarriage

By Wednesday Martin, Ph.D.

Don’t call them deadbeats. Research shows that today’s fathers are spending more time with their kids than ever — an average of nearly three and a half hours a day more than Dads of a few decades ago. Kids and fathers alike are reaping the benefits; more time spent together sows the seeds of closeness. But the flipside of this trend is that it makes divorce more painful for fathers than ever before. As one man I interviewed said, “There are no words to describe the pain of not being able to tuck my kids in every night.”

His dilemma is not uncommon. While dads are increasingly parenting on the front lines, custody is still more or less automatically awarded to mom. “Even when custody is technically joint, dad may get far less time with the kids,” says Texas divorce lawyer Stuart Gagnon. And so they want the time they do get together to be perfect. “I don’t harp on my daughter to pick up her towel since she’s only here for a couple of days,” one dad told me. Another said proudly, “My kids come whenever they want, and when they do, it’s all about them.” Read more

Holidays a time to take high road

By Peter Ehrlich

Special to Single Dad Life

Listen. Can you hear it? The air is so still. And can you see the gathering clouds?

Looks as if a storm is headed right for our sometimes fragile single parent homes and, if not prepared, we’ll be picking up the pieces for a long time. It’s called the holiday season.

You weathered the first storm of the season, the summer holidays, by working out an access agreement that was equitable so your ex didn’t freak out and have to call the lawyers at $250 hour, which neither of you can afford.

Halloween is the start of the holiday season because that’s when we start sharing our children big-time for life’s big moments. (If you’re Jewish, the holiday dysfunction begins at sundown in September.) Read more

Time For John Edwards To Be Single Dad

By Peter Ehrlich
Special to Single Dad Life

There is a way back for John Edwards but it’s going to take courage and commitment.

Mr. Edwards needs to step up to a microphone and announce to the world, in a clear and unequivocal voice, that he is determined to take on the role and responsibilities associated with being the single father he truly seems to be.
According to press reports, a secret DNA test proved he was the father of the baby he fathered with Ms. Rielle Hunter. And if you look at the baby’s face, it’s obvious – Frances’ father is John Edwards.
Read more

Good Men Step In To Become Dads

By  Peter Ehrlich
Special to Single Dad Life

My single mother collected bottles on Miami Beach for money. I know because she told me.

I was on Google Earth recently to learn more about that “beach-bottle” time. I had a frayed document with the Miami address. After I punched it in, I was beamed down to float right above our Miami apartment.

I hovered over the laneway that my mother had to have walked down to find her bottles. I stared at a great swath of sand at the end of the laneway, sharing the pain, shame and poverty that my mother must have felt. Read more

It’s Too Easy To Wallow In Loneliness

By Peter Ehrlich
Special to Single Dad Life

How many times have we spent 45 minutes in a video store, only to walk out with nothing but a cloud over our head darker than the one we walked in with? Lot’s I bet? Write me and tell me I’m wrong.

Often, spending Saturday night alone again because our children are away from us and we are lover-less, the only thing we end up renting is a deeper depression.

On a recent weekend this single dad realized that he goes to the video store as much to be with other people as to rent a movie. How pathetic and lonely is that?

I also admit that what propels me to go food shopping is not a hunger for food but rather a hunger to be with other human beings. I’m starving for company. The woman behind the fish counter serving me snapper must wonder why I’m so bloody friendly; to the point of complimenting her on the layout of the fish on the ice.

I don’t need to see a psychiatrist for this evaluation – I’m lonely. Read more

Single Parent Empty Nest Hard On The Heart

By Peter Ehrlich
Special to Single Dad Life
I find no sight more poignant these days than the remains of an abandoned bird’s nest. It puts my life into perspective better than any other image, with the exception of my mirror. (“Did I rent my face out or what? Who the hell are you”?).

In a matter of weeks, birds build their nest, teach their children to fly, push them out, and from what I can gather, don’t even bother saying goodbye.

My son is 17 years old. He’s still my baby right? Wrong.

I know that if I were to throw him the keys to his own apartment he wouldn’t hesitate to take them with a “thanks for everything, Dad. We had a lot of fun. I love you. Gotta go.”

Once we’ve decided to give our children wings, we must give them the wings of an eagle, not a sparrow so they can fly as far away as they want to.

When you’re a couple and your child leaves, you still have your partner to talk, explore and make love with.

As a single parent, with no child to care for, no friend to crawl into bed with, we may think we are starting our life all over, but that’s not true. Too much time has passed, too many lessons learned, for us to think living alone now will be as easy as it was when we were single in our 20s.

Back then we could afford psychologically to live alone and take the time to watch a spider struggle to make its way up the wall. Now that moment would hurt – a lot.

To thrive in the “emptiest nest years,” we should force ourselves to be more daring. We need to consider a leap before we look, a proactive approach because we don’t want to be a (single parent) boomer with too many regrets.

Here are a few suggestions how we can better survive the emptiest of nests:

Plan ahead. Don’t avoid thinking about it because you don’t want to face the fact that an empty nest is looming. How does that make you feel? What are you going to do when the time has come?

Forget making a long list of the places you still want to see. Choose one place and start there. Stone circles in Dartmoor with a friend? Just do it.

For years you encouraged your children to keep practicing so they would become proficient at that something. Now it’s your turn. J.K. Rowling said she contemplated suicide while a poor single parent as she suffered from depression. Then she wrote Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. Why not you?

If you’re aching for intimacy, find someone worthy, because you’re officially out of excuses. And you can now have sex without worrying about your child popping in.

This may sound horrific, but would it be such a bad thing to move in with another single parent in a similar situation? (Great sitcom potential!)

At the end of the day, single parent empty-nesters should recall Edith Piaf’s courageous code of living: Non, je ne regrette rien.

You can contact Peter by emailing him at peter@geronimocode.com

Ode to the Nice Guys

This rant was written for the Wharton Undergraduate Journal

I came across this rant while stumbling around the net. I thought is was so good, I decided to share it on SDL. Even though the link is no longer valid, I wanted to give it credit.  Would be interesting to read your comments. Enjoy!

This is a tribute to the nice guys. The nice guys that finish last, that never become more than friends, that endure hours of whining and bitching about what assholes guys are, while disproving the very point. This is dedicated to those guys who always provide a shoulder to lean on but restrain themselves to tentative hugs, those guys who hold open doors and give reassuring pats on the back and sit patiently outside the changing room at department stores. Read more

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