Most of us spend the first six days of each week sowing wild oats, then we go to church on Sunday and pray for a crop failure.

How long is a normal period of "oats-sowing" post-divorce? For instance, I think I have completed a proper amount of sowing (OK, maybe a little more than a proper amount, but I digress), in a compact amount of time, and now I'm ready to try to work things out with R. Apparently, R has not finished amply sowing his.

We met up today for a nice walk, after dealing with a cranky Princess. Thought that she was coming down with that rotten flu that's going around, but it was a false alarm. We walked around Antrim Lake twice, and it was nice (yet slightly strained). I remarked as we hugged by his car that "this is always the difficult part" and he just chuckled and said "yeah" and mumbled something else. Then I stuck my foot in my mouth ... GOD DAMN IT I should have left the exchange at that. I said something to the effect that he was afraid to touch me ... because I thought that he was afraid he may not stop. I turned on my heel and walked away. I feel like I totally overstepped my boundaries. To atone for my sins, I came home and cleaned my kitchen and cat's box. Two chores that I can't stand, but I feel better for completing them.

I had a long conversation with C this evening, actually, it was me talking and him listening. C has made it a point not to get involved with the drama that is our lives. Here's what I gleaned from the discussion: I think that pushing R about a relationship (no matter what kind of one) is counterproductive. But the question still remains ... how long is long enough to sow the oats? How long do I wait for him to get this out of his system, or do I even wait?

It would be horribly hypocritical for me to be upset, or angry, or dare I say ... jealous! But you know what? I am. I'm upset that he's seeing someone else (which I have known about for a while now), I'm angry that I have allowed him to rent space in my brain, and I'm jealous that another woman is in my bed, in my house, where I should be. If I had the intestinal fortitude to tell R this, would it make a difference? Or would he just think that I'm a nutcase?

At least I'll have something to tell my shrink about this week.