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I cried on the phone to impassive health insurance bureaucrats.And one morning, when I left the hospice to feed our cats and make some calls, Frank died.
A friend of a friend, he looked me up when he was traveling through New York from Europe.
We went out for drinks and had a great time, telling stories about our childhood and swapping anecdotes about our lives as writers.
I rode beside him in ambulances to emergency rooms late at night.
I asked questions in oncologists' offices and took notes.
Part of me wanted to shake him when he complained of routine problems, to make him put things in perspective.
But he also helped me understand how alien and incomprehensible my situation must seem to someone who has not lived with such a loss.Some guys have even turned my widowhood into a weird power struggle, a game of "Whose life is harder?" One recent date loved to vent about his everyday stresses--the grueling hours he logged as a music producer, the intensely competitive nature of his work--but would stop himself by saying, "I know this is nothing compared to what you've been through." Maybe he was trying to be sympathetic, but it seemed as though, in some bizarre way, he resented my situation, that in terms of our life experience, the playing field wasn't even and his problems couldn't possibly bear any weight."You must have really loved him," a few men have said in awe.Well, yes, of course I loved him, but our marriage was like most: It had highs and lows.He never conveyed the reason he bailed, but it was clear he wanted someone breezy and uncomplicated. In hindsight, I admit that wearing my wedding ring and discussing Frank may have signaled that I wasn't ready to move on.Tags: Adult Dating, affair dating, sex dating