Dating : Life, Dating, and Growth on the Other Side of Divorce

A little over a year ago, I wrote an article on Medium titled “Why My Divorce Was the Best Thing to Happen to Me”. It was a cathartic piece — a way for me to tell my side of the story, a year after the divorce. Between the time the decree nisi was issued by the court and the time I wrote that article, I kept my story largely private — to give myself time to heal, and to reflect.

My intention for writing was to share what I had learned: that by not dealing with my own unresolved issues, I built my marriage (and by extension, my life) on an unstable foundation — on a lie. Unraveling that lie was incredibly painful, but it also provided a chance to begin again on the right foot.

Since I wrote that article, more than 1,000 people, most of them strangers to me, have spent around seven minutes each of their lives reading this article. Several friends reached out to thank me for sharing my story: Either they were considering a divorce and it made them feel less alone, or they could never imagine considering a divorce but it helped them understand people on the other side a little better.

One friend suggested I write a series on life and dating after divorce, beyond just self-awareness. I laughed it off as one of those ideas for sometime in the future, maybe.

A year later, as people continue to read and respond to this article, I realized perhaps the themes I wrote about still resonate. In Covid-19 times, we are dealing with unexpected stress, loss, grief, uncertainty, and possibly even despair about the future. This is not unlike a divorce. While some will argue that divorce is always a choice, I’m quite sure that nobody ever gets married planning to get divorced.

This pandemic has erased everything we thought we knew about the world and our plans for the future in one fell swoop. It’s caused us to question and reevaluate who we are and what we are living for. Recently, I read a HBR article titled “Growth After Trauma”, in which a woman who was disabled by a stroke and initially struggled to cope summarized her process of dealing with change:

“Now I have to figure out what is next in this life I never thought I would be living. Part of me doesn’t want to think I have to do this, but I know I do.”

I recognized similar aspects of my own journey in those words — a journey of questioning my identity, of being forced to let go of my expectations for the future. This prompted me to jot down a few more lessons I have learned after writing my first article on divorce — lessons that may be relevant to some reading this, even if you have not gone through a divorce.

Here’s what I’ve learned since:

1. You are not for everyone.

After my divorce, I tried multiple dating apps, with varying experiences. The common thread that wove them all together was that the moment I mentioned my divorce, any open lines of communication would quickly and abruptly end.

I learned that dating someone with my unique set of experiences is too heavy for most people. And that didn’t make me less than. It just meant it would take a certain subset of potential matches to appreciate me.

And I did find that subset. I met a wonderful person and moved across the world to pursue a relationship that lasted two years. My divorce was never a barrier as we got to know each other. Eventually, we went our separate ways, but I grew from that relationship and became a better person because of it.

2. Disclose quickly and early. Don’t be afraid to cut your losses.

After my relationship of two years ended and I got on the dating bandwagon again, I learned from my previous experiences. I made it a point to disclose that I was a divorcee in the first conversation I had with every new match.

It meant that many conversations ended faster and more abruptly. But that was okay.

In business school, I learned about the “sunk cost fallacy”, which happens when people continue a behavior or endeavor that is doomed to failure, in order to justify previously invested resources (time, money, or effort).

I decided I was not going to fall into this trap — I was going to make an effort to try to get to know people. But if the signs start pointing towards the fact that they are uncomfortable with the idea of dating a divorcee, it’s okay to let it go.

I didn’t need to work extra hard to win someone over before “revealing my cards”. I didn’t need to earn someone’s respect or change who I am just because they have different values. It was okay to write off the sunk costs and move on to the next opportunity.

3. Don’t close yourself to possibilities.

After a series of “sunk cost” investments, things can get discouraging. Dating in today’s world — where ghosting is all too easy and people struggle to connect on a deeper level — is hard enough as it is. It’s even harder when you have to tell people you’re divorced.

Some people, when faced with adversity, might choose to exit the game. But the risk of doing that is that you might exit the game just before you discover the door to the secret level designed for you.

I’ve always lived my life on the premise that as long as I have breath, I have opportunities. My opportunities might not be as many as the next person. Being open to possibilities is not being deluded about your limitations or blind to reality. It’s knowing that even in bleak situations, there still is a small chance of success and deciding you won’t stop trying unless you’ve fully exhausted all chances.

I got back in the saddle again. And again, life caught me by surprise — I met someone who saw past the label of divorce, who I could connect with on multiple levels and shared many common values with.

4. Speak openly about your struggles — it’s cathartic.

Being able to say to friends “Dating apps are exhausting” can be very liberating. Your friends might not be able to solve your challenges — but having someone listen to you makes those challenges easier to bear.

Don’t carry your struggles alone. It’s easy to be embarrassed about the things we face — but what I’ve often found to be true is that the moment we speak our truth, we discover it is more common than we realized. Your problems are not Your Problems. They are human problems. Don’t isolate yourself because of them.

5. Build a narrative that is authentic and hopeful.

When I made the deliberate choice to be upfront about my divorce with people I met, I realized one thing. To not come across as a morose and depressing person, I needed to be able to tell the story about why I chose that route and how it changed me as a person.

But more importantly, I came to realize crafting that story for people I met was not even the most important thing. The most important person I was crafting that story for was myself.

I needed to reframe the narrative in my head to one that was authentic — but also hopeful. I needed to be clear about the mistakes made, lessons learnt — and the growth that came from it — because it would affect everything. My self-confidence, how I saw myself in the world, and how I would act as a result.

When my divorce first became legal, I chose to wait a year before I broke my silence and kept my story only to an intimate, trusted circle at first. I didn’t want the story I told to be focused on blame or driven by bitterness. I didn’t want mutual friends to pick sides. When I chose to tell my story, I focused on my own journey, mentioning as little as possible about other characters in the story because those are their stories to tell, not mine.

6. Embrace new possibilities, get clarity about what matters, and practice gratitude.

In his novel Fight Club, Chuck Palahniuk writes: “It’s only after we’ve lost everything that we’re free to do anything.”

Speaking of narrative, my new narrative went like this: “Many would think that I was destroying my life by getting a divorce. But I had already been destroying my life by denying my values, not dealing with past baggage, and keeping up external appearances of ‘success’. The divorce forced me to stop, reconsider what was really important to me, and rebuild a life that is more authentic, true, and not driven by the need to please others.”

I found that what mattered to me was peace and self-acceptance. I may have lost a marriage, my reputation, and some friendships, but I also lost my ability to fake a smile and hide my problems. I lost my tolerance for stress and conflict as a part of daily life. I lost the misguided belief that stomachaches and indigestion and eczema are normal, and that emotions have nothing to do with our physical bodies.

A business owner I met in Helsinki who sells Malaysian fried kuey teow in the chilly capital of Finland said something that has stuck with me since I heard it:

“If you can have a good sleep and a good shit, that’s already more than most people have in life.”

I’ve learned to be grateful for the simple — but most important things:

A peaceful night’s rest that comes from saying my truth and not tolerating what makes me feel uneasy. That comes from working hard and giving 110%, not lazy work that is produced because I’m too burnt out and busy trying to be someone I’m not.

A healthy body that might not look like an Instagram influencer’s body but feels strong and alive, because I’ve put good food in it, not food I’ve binged on as a distraction from my other problems. A body that doesn’t leave me aching when I wake up in the morning or clutching my belly cringing in pain.

It seems so simple and obvious, but for two-thirds of my life, I thought that pain was normal. Today, I’m grateful I’ve learned that while pain is often a wake up call, it doesn’t have to be the status quo.

One final lesson: Learning all these lessons can’t be forced or rushed. Observing nature and my body has taught me the value of patience. We have to let things take our time. Some things take longer than others to heal. Some lessons take longer to find us.

In a world that rushes around in a frenzy and despairs at being asked to sit still, sometimes, the best thing we can do is do nothing, and give things time to unfold.