Pick up. Drop off.


As the meet swap approaches
the anticipation
picks up,
along with it anxiety, my forever friend.
The taste of time out.
Time off.
A break.
A pause in the persistent parenting pulse.

Instead;
The moment after exchange,
all anticipation free falls into suspension.

Relief, rest and relaxation
drops off
as if winded.
Punched.
Paused.
What remains is a quiet, pouting, pondering emptiness.

Action is shallow.
Thought is deep.
It takes a moment to regain, review, revive.

So it goes, the pick up, drop off.
#Divorce.



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About Tuesday night…

About Tuesday night…

For the first time since being divorced I decided to give online dating a proper go. It doesn’t feel natural or comfortable for me, it’s way out of my comfort zone and completely unlike the traditional meeting people via other other people or meet at work approach that was around back in the day when I was single. (Pre Google and Apps days).

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