Love, Lust & WTF?!!

Chapter 1

I Am Ready. Nope, Just Kidding.

Staring at the flashing computer screen, hands grasping the smooth, cold surface of the desk, tears streaming down my cheeks, was I really ready to embark on this adventure? Weeping, emotions flooded through my body: excitement, sadness, disbelief, frustration, wonder. Blinking to clear my vision, I reread the words that I had painstakingly written and rewritten:

Name: Daisy
Age: 45
Occupation: Engineer
Looking for: a relationship

I am a widow and I have two children who are my world. I am gainfully employed in the oil and gas industry as an engineer. I am active, athletic, and I am looking for my partner-in-life. I have a zest for life and am passionate about things, people and adventures. I love to laugh, and I like to be busy doing things that make me feel like my bucket is full: walking, golfing, playing tennis, skiing, talking with girlfriends or spending time with my daughters. I enjoy sex with a great partner but overall, I absolutely adore love. I miss the feeling of being in love with my special someone, that connection. Falling in love is one of the most awesome feelings we experience as humans and what makes it even more cool is that we get to share it with another person. Travelling is a passion of mine, and I am looking for someone to join me on my adventures, be active with, and age energetically and gracefully with.

The clock struck ten and startled me from stupor. Blankly staring at my screen without seeing the words on the page, my mind had drifted, as it often did, back to Adam, my rock, er, former rock. The floodgates had been blown open and I knew I needed to let my emotions fly for what seemed like the millionth time. Sobbing, shoulders tensing, my whole body shaking, right down to my toes. With each inhale and exhale, I endured a feeling of desperation and sadness, and I shuddered at the thought of Adam being gone forever. I wept for a solid ten minutes allowing my tears to wash away the emotions that never seemed to cease, building up over time.

This outburst made it clear to me.

No Daisy, you aren’t ready to embark on the adventures of dating quite yet. Close, but no cigar, sweetheart.

Saving my profile as draft, and purposefully clicking the box “Do not post,” I logged off and shut down my computer.

Growling, my stomach reminded me that I hadn’t enjoyed a full supper as my daughters and I had been running around and had grabbed a quick bite on the go. Creaking, my chair reminded me that I should tighten the screw at the back. I pushed off my chair and moseyed to the kitchen aimlessly glancing at my surroundings. Once in the kitchen I poured myself a healthy dose of wine and pulled out the air popper. Adding the kernels, I reached for butter.

Is it too late to call Anne? I could really use her support tonight.

Anne and I met over a decade ago at a spin class. I noticed her as soon as I walked in. Everyone notices Anne. As usual, she was completely put together, looking gorgeous while pedaling away on her bike.

I laughed at myself in comparison. My haphazard ponytail, hair sticking up in all directions, feeling unsettled, rushed, and very last minute. I had been fumbling my way through setting up the bike, when Anne stepped in and showed me the ropes. We hit it off instantly. Turned out, she was as kind and sweet as she was stunning.

“Hi, I’m Anne, great to meet you. Is this your first spin class?”

I nodded and shrugged helplessly, “Is it that obvious? I have no clue how to set this thing up. I’m Daisy by the way, and the pleasure is all mine.”

Anne smiled explaining what each knob controlled, instructing me to, “start out slowly and with low tension. Don’t worry about keeping up for your first time, just get used to the flow of the class.”

Post-workout Anne came over to check on me, “How was it?”

Sweat was dripping off me like I had just been hit by a tsunami. I was sucking wind, while she glowed like a Greek goddess for crying out loud, “That class kicked my ass, that’s for sure.”

Anne laughed, “You got your money’s worth then. Are you free for lunch?”

We became fast friends and have been almost inseparable ever since. Anne has been a huge support, especially over the past couple years. There were many, many nights where we talked, hugged and cried together.

Popcorn was popping away, most of it was hitting the bowl but a few stray pieces flew all over the kitchen, hitting the floor (to our dog’s sheer delight) or bouncing across the counter and stovetop. The microwave chimed indicating the butter was ready to drizzle over the freshly popped kernels. Sprinkling garlic salt and pepper, I inhaled the heavenly scent. There’s something so comforting about the smell of freshly popped and buttered popcorn.

Grabbing my wine and popcorn, I headed for the living room where, once settled, I decided to text Anne, “Good evening, gorgeous, are you awake?”

Instantly, I saw the magical three dots indicating she was typing, “Yes beautiful, I’m relaxing in the hot tub. Are you doing alright?”

Staring at her text message, I wasn’t quite sure how to respond. Was I ok? Not really but then again, yes, I was. Responding, “Yes, I’m alright but I had a bit of an emotional Bridget Jones half box of Kleenex moment. Just wanting to reach out.”

Anne’s text arrived almost immediately, “Shall I call, or do you need me there? Scratch that, on my way.”

Anne arrived quickly, her long blonde hair tied back in a ponytail and a pair of Roots boyfriend sweats clinging to her exquisite figure, her quaint pink bungalow was just around the corner. She knocked on the door and let herself in. When I saw Anne’s kind ocean blue eyes, my pal Bridget Jones popped up again, weeping.

Anne gave me a big hug, “Sweetie what sparked the outpouring of emotions for you this evening?”

After explaining the dating profile incident, I continued, “Then I took a hard left towards Adam’s memory, it all just flooded back. I miss him so much. I’m so lonely.” Tears were pouring down my cheeks. Anne hugged me fiercely and stroked my hair as I wept.

“I know you do sweetie. It’s not fair and it sucks big time. I think you may be right though; you’re getting close to being ready to date again, but you’re not quite there.”

After a few minutes of weeping, I was feeling much better. “Sorry Anne, I thought the worst was behind me. How rude of me, would you like some wine?” she had already been nibbling popcorn.

She laughed at my apology, “You silly goose! Had I been desperate for wine, I would have helped myself. And Daisy, the worst IS behind you.” Glug, glug, glug, I poured her a glass of wine and topped my own up.

Now that we had made it through my breakdown, “Anne tell me about your latest dating escapades! Entertain me! I could really use some laughs.”

After enduring years of her husband working through his sexuality, Kyle advised that he was in fact gay. That was a tough blow for her to get over four years ago, but like she said, “I don’t have the right parts, I can’t compete.” They have remained friends and love each other immensely to this day but for obvious reasons they both needed to move on.

“Oh wait, before you jump into your adventures, how is Kyle doing?”

Anne laughed and said, “He’s awesome. He is loving his new partner, Benjamin, who is a beautiful man inside and out, by the way! I am so happy that Kyle has finally found his groove and it seems he has fallen head over heels in love. When I chatted with him the other day, he mentioned that he is thinking of asking Benjamin to move in with him.”

It was obvious to me that Anne would always love Kyle. She lit up every time she spoke about him. “That’s so awesome to hear,” I grinned, “Ok, on to your latest escapades.”

The last time we talked about her dating life, Anne had been seeing a guy named Joe who was a bit rough around the edges, with his ripped jeans and unrefined mannerisms.

Odd attributes for Anne’s boyfriend.

“Yesterday afternoon, Joe took me to the horse races, can you believe it?”

I burst out laughing. Goddess Anne at the horse races? I was laughing so hard, I may have even snorted, as my mind leapt ahead to how I imagined that unfolding.

“Unfortunately, Joe hadn’t told me where we were going, so there I was in my six-inch heels, trudging through the mud, slipping and sliding as my heels attempted to find solid ground.”

I was howling, almost rolling on the ground now, imagining stately and immaculately coiffed Anne unsteady on uneven, muddy ground wearing those goofy, impractical shoes at a horse race.

How the men must have gawked.

They often did where Anne was concerned.

Anne continued despite my body shuddering with laughter, “We stopped by the sketchy concession stand, grabbed beer, burgers and fries, then wove our way through the cheering crowd toward our hard, cold, red plastic seats, where we hunkered down to watch the races, with a beer in one hand and a greasy burger in the other.”

The cool thing about Anne is that even dressed to the nines, she is pretty much down to try anything once; she’s a great sport.

“He was a perfect gentleman, but I must admit horse racing isn’t really my thing. After the races, he took me to a splendid restaurant which was one hundred percent my thing. OMG Daisy, I ordered the pasta, obviously freshly made. To die for! And the shrimp were dripping with garlic and butter, delicious! I haven’t enjoyed an incredible meal like that in ages. They paired the wine beautifully; however, the conversation was slightly less stimulating as Joe insisted on rehashing the races. I’m not sure Joe is the guy for me, but for now, we are enjoying hanging out together as we figure it out.”

Chapter 2

Adam, My Love, My Soulmate

A wonderful man named Adam blessed my life for twenty-five years. He was a great father and an incredibly supportive and loving husband. We met in our senior year of high school. When I first saw him, my stomach lurched and landed somewhere near my throat, the room spun, and simultaneously goosebumps and a wonderful and discomforting warmth spread across my skin.

It was love at first sight.

Inseparable from the start, we were both busy with our own activities, hockey for him and dancing & tennis for me but we spent every hour we could together. We had one of those amazing bonds almost instantly.

Shortly after I graduated from university, we were married, toured the world together and then made our beautiful twin girls: Jessica and Angela. Our relationship was not perfect, being married for twenty years never is, but it was as close as I can imagine. We remained connected, and our love for each other continued to grow throughout the entire time we were together. We were best friends and lovers; I think this was key.

Some nights we would stay up late just talking about our daughters, their future, our future, vacations we were planning, our past experiences. He would always have a hand on my knee or his arm around my shoulders, we always had some kind of physical connection.

I remember one specific Thanksgiving dinner I cooked for a large group of friends and family. I felt stressed trying to get all the dishes ready at once. Adam sensed this and wrapped his comforting arms around me while I checked on the veggies and potatoes. He kissed the top of my head and whispered, “Fuck the timing,” as he nibbled on my ear lobe, “I love you more than you know. Don’t sweat it babe. We got this.”

Adam winked at me, moseyed out to the living room, topped up drinks, and herded our company toward the dining room table, then he snuck back into the kitchen, drained the potatoes and made the gravy.

Later that night, after the crowd had dissipated and our girls were snoring in their beds, he grabbed my hand, pulled me in close, whispered, “I love you and our girls so much, I feel extremely blessed,” and we danced in the kitchen in our bare feet. We had that special kind of bond, that is for sure.

Rehashing memories about Adam makes me smile and then tear up like good ole Bridget in a funk. I think it always will.

Thinking back to that fateful night. It was a regular Tuesday. Adam called me, as he always did, “Hey Hun, I’m just leaving the office. Do you need me to grab the girls or anything from the store or do you have it under control?”

I was in the midst of chopping vegetables in our roomy kitchen, “No sweetie, I left work a bit early today and I have the girls with me at home already. No, we don’t need anything. See you soon. I love you.”

I could hear the smile in his voice when he replied, “I can’t wait. Love you too, Hun.”

Carrots, beets, peppers, beans, and potatoes, fresh from our garden, and three thick T-bone steaks were grilling on the BBQ, timed for Adam’s arrival. Supper was ready and still no sign of Adam; I was starting to get a little concerned, so I gave him a quick call. No answer, straight to voicemail.

Hmm, that’s odd.

No sense letting supper get cold or unnecessarily worrying our girls.

“Jessica, Angela, supper time.” My sweet girls came bounding down the stairs. Jess had been coloring and Angela was in the middle of creating her latest LEGO invention.

“Where’s Dad?” asked Angela.

“Just running a little late, sweetie,” I explained.

I imagined Adam would be along shortly, probably before we finished eating.

As we were clearing our plates and putting them in the dishwasher, Jess said, “Mom, why isn’t dad home? Where is he?”

Attempting to hide the creeping worry from my voice I said, “Why don’t you go back to what you were doing before supper, I’m sure he’ll be along soon.”

Anxious, slow time went by, and I was starting to feel frazzled. This was completely out of character for Adam, and it was bedtime for the girls, “Get your pjs on and brush your teeth girls, I will be up to read you a story shortly,” I hollered, perhaps a bit loudly, from the main floor.

They had chosen to share a bedroom, so we had bunk beds installed. I read them a story, kissed both of my brown-haired beauties on the forehead and wished them good night. I was relieved when they fell asleep swiftly, as my outward calm was dissipating rather quickly.

Now to figure out where Adam was. Panic was rising.

The doorbell sounded as I was coming downstairs, and dread washed over me instantly. I knew. Something was very wrong.

Every word from the next few minutes will be forever etched in my brain, “Are you Daisy Flanigan?”

I nodded. I couldn’t speak.

“I am Sergeant Jones and this is Constable Livingston with the Calgary Police Service, may we come in?”

It’s not every day the police show up at your door and I was on high alert. I gestured, “Of course, come in.” Fuck. I was having a hard time holding it together. I knew something horrific was coming. They don’t send the police to tell you your husband stopped to get milk.

Sergeant Jones continued, “We regret to inform you that your husband, Adam Flanigan was in a car accident this evening and was killed instantly.”

With those banal, awful words, the air sucked out of the room. The walls crumbled in on me.

“What?” I breathed, not breathing.

The sergeant continued, “We are sorry for your loss.”

I was in shock, I was confused, I’d been thrown into a nightmare, the house was spinning around me, I was trying to make sense of what she’d said, “What happened? My Adam? Are you sure?”

Sergeant Jones spoke again, “Yes, ma’am, your husband has lost his life. He was in a head-on collision. He died instantly.”

I was shaking like a leaf as this stupid, senseless, unalterable reality hit me: Adam was gone forever. The horror was crashing over me and taking my breath away with each wave.

We found out much later that the driver who hit him had been high and had also lost his life in the accident, along with several other people: drivers and passengers in other cars.

I remember standing there, staring at the sergeant as she walked down the steps and back to her cruiser, and when my knees buckled, I was alone on the ground in a puddle of tears.

What? No, this can’t be right.

It can’t be true.

My Adam was perfectly fine just hours ago and now, he is gone forever. In an instant he had been ripped from our lives. Grief was a vacuum now that love was absent, and I was being sucked inside its vortex. I was tempted to let myself be fully pulled into the grief vacuum and to shut down to all that was not internal, allow myself to mentally be as dead as Adam was, but I remembered the two girls who I loved and who needed me. I could not lie lifeless in that dark, unimaginably horrifying cave with its sides compressing in on me. It was like my heart had been in the same head-on collision, strapped in beside Adam.

Motherhood forced me to pick up my cell phone and call Anne, “I need you now.” She was over instantly, running to shorten the distance.

I collapsed into Anne’s arms, blurting out what had happened between sobs and gasps, “Adam’s gone. Dead. Car accident. Gone. So scared. Sad. Destroyed. Not fair. Why?”

How would I tell our girls?

They were eight. I couldn’t protect them from the dreadful fact that their dad was gone. He would never sweep them up into his bear hugs again. The special voices he used when he read them to sleep, would never be heard again. He had played his last game with the girls. I crumpled into a heap, exhausted and enveloped in grief.

Anne called my parents and sister, who all came over right away and insisted they stay the night. The next morning, we sat my girls down and told them the horrifying news about their dad. My girls, my parents, my sister, Anne and I were all sobbing.

I was dreading the next phone call I had to make before I could allow myself to fully fall apart into a million pieces.

I picked up the phone and made that horrifying call to his parents, “Hi Jackie, may I speak with both you and Terry please? Can you both hop on the phone?” Jackie and Terry must have thought I was nuts. I was trying to keep the rattle out of my voice and to stay strong for them to hear what I had to tell them.

Once they were both on the phone I blurted out, “Adam was in a car accident last night, he was hit head on, and he died. The police say he died instantly. I’m so sorry.” I fell apart about halfway through delivering the awful news.

They were in disbelief and shock, just like I was, “I can’t believe it. I’m so sorry Daisy,” said his mom. They hung up the phone abruptly, sucked up and removed by their own personal vacuum of grief.

It was devastating for me and my kids, for our family, and friends. I walked around in a haze for what seemed like forever, not truly believing he was gone. We all sought counselling to work through the horrific loss of my husband and my kids’ dad.

I sobbed for a long time. I was crushed, my world was deflated.

Eventually, I figured out how to put one foot in front of the other again. I knew I had to be strong for my girls, and we started to learn how to live our lives without Adam. I began to figure out who I was again, continued to grow and learned how to live and manage our household without Adam, my rock. Time ticked on and as it turned out, so did life, and my girls continued to grow and thrive.

Jessica and Angela were becoming quite engaging young women, now eleven years old.

How the hell had it been over two years?

I was beginning to feel that something, besides Adam, was missing in my life. I felt like I was made for more than just the life I was leading right now.

Over the past few years, I had been focused on managing my grief, supporting my daughters through theirs, supporting them in general, working and trying hard to be everything for my girls. I worked hard to be their rock, like Adam had been for us.

I started to question my purpose and one night I found myself talking to Adam and asking him what I should do and what was missing.

I heard him loud and clear in a dream that night, “Daisy, you are not living your life, you are just going through the motions. I need you to let me go and move on, find someone new to love you and our girls. I will live on through our memories and our girls. I love you, always.”

The next morning, while pondering my dream I decided that Adam would have hated the idea of me behaving like an old, lonely spinster at age forty-five, sitting at home every Friday night knitting, quilting, and scrapbooking with my pernicious pride of cats, in bed by nine sharp.

I don’t even like cats.

From previous conversations with my recently single girlfriends, I knew that this dating adventure I was about to embark upon, was a whole different world and not for the faint of heart. Confused and shocked by some of their stories, it made me want to crawl under my blankets, hide in my house, and forget the whole dating idea.

Hiding was not an option; I needed to get out there and give it a shot.

But how?

I was seventeen when I started dating Adam. I had not been on a first date with anyone in over twenty-seven years. I had no idea how to do this. It was time to have a few drinks with my girlfriends and get to the bottom of dating in the twenty-first century, during a pandemic.