I am creating a new single divorced girl business rule. All business lunches with charming men will be now be held on Fridays! You have a glass of wine, hopefully share a couple of laughs, talk a little business turkey and then later once you get home, you don't care if you go out...because you feel like you have been out! Happened yesterday to me.

A couple weeks ago, I briefly met an interesting potential business contact at a gathering of unique businesspeople, and as is my style, I called to arrange a follow up meeting. He suggested lunch at a restaurant on Park Ave in NYC. There wasn't much conversation in between, and I was only interested in discussing business.

I was all bundled up in layers when I arrived and spotted him waiting at the bar. A warm hello and then he offered to take my coat for me. Okay, then I love chivalry. He patiently and gallantly waited while I took off layer after layer, my coat and hat and scarf, and whisked them away to safety.

Call him Business Superman. Then he asked if I wanted to have a drink first. Sure! It's Friday! Handsome, tall, and charming with a London accent and a quick wit, we were off and running by the first sip of wine. I didn't know he was divorced until the second sip, by the third sip I knew the whole story.: Divorced twice with a child from the first marriage and  a horrendous experience. I listened with great sincerity and empathy.

Then we had some good fun talking about dating and sharing stories. Then we had a fabulous lunch at the bar. Laughing all the way. We both like eating at the bar. Then we had a wonderful business discussion with great potential. Then he paid the check. Then he got my coat and hat and scarf etc etc etc. and then we left and walked halfway in the  same direction, before warmly kissing on the cheek goodbye. I made a wonderful new friend and we will create some wonderful business together.

Guess what? Like Madonna, I am stumbling, shaking, smashing, and dancing my way through the effects of my divorce. From the interviews I've read, she's not having an easy time of it.

Even though it seems she'll hang onto most of her cool hundreds of millions, someone recently told me that prosperity isn't how much money you have, but how "well off" you feel. Honestly, if that's the case, then I'm rich!

The holidays can be a crazy time. Self-sacrifice and stress can lead to negative emotions, and leave you feeling vulnerable and tired. People like Madonna keep their heads screwed on straight by staying creative and expressive. They always remember to make time for themselves, because if you're not good to yourself, then you won't be good for anyone else.

This month, Madonna's on tour with her band. She says that keeps her from feeling too sorry for herself and all the messy divorce proceedings.

My band's on break this fall, because my keyboard player just had throat surgery and is on vocal rest. So the only tour I'm going to do right now is the one I'm taking with my kids on Thanksgiving.

We're not quite the Partridge Family, and we're not riding on a bus, but the shrink-wrapped, pink Housewives On Prozac-mobile will head north toward New Hampshire tomorrow for a week of family fun. The kids and I will be singing at the top of our lungs all the way.

This is a trip we really look forward to. The only difference is, this year, there is a new man in my life. He's my prize for sitting tight for five long years and not jumping into another full-time relationship, or marriage.

I know I'll catch some grief. What would a family get-together be, without the teasing?

They probably feel I've introduced them to thousands of men through the years. I'm afraid they'll be whispering behind my back: My goodness, here she is with another one!

My husband is juggling graduate school and work right now, so he's a pretty busy guy. Luckily he's taking the classes online, so while I write at night he does his school work.

Why is he taking graduate classes? There are two reasons, I think. The first is because I want to start my graduate classes, but I don't want us both in school at the same time because I think the kids would get short-changed if both Mommy and Daddy were scrambling to get their homework done.

I told my husband that he needed to decide what he wanted to do because if he didn't enroll in classes soon then I would start up my graduate degree. After all, I'm really itching to get back to school and I do truly love being a student, so if he wasn't interested than I certainly was.

Lo and behold, he enrolled in classes.

The second reason why he is in graduate school didn't come out until just recently. He was complaining about how busy he is, and how hard he works, and how difficult it is to juggle everything (which I certainly don't dispute...he's working very hard right now).

Then it comes out during a discussion that the only reason he's enrolled in classes is because he thought it was what I wanted. He says he wasn't even sure he wanted a graduate degree, but I pushed him into it.

"Won't a graduate degree help you in your career?" I asked him.

"Yeah, I guess," he responded with a shrug.

I told him that he should make his own decisions, that he shouldn't do something major like enrolling in school if it's not something he wanted to do. He threw his arms up in the air and exclaimed, "I'm just trying to make you happy!"

Yesterday was the first day of school. It is my thirteenth, as a teacher. One would think first day would have become commonplace by now, but it still makes me fluttery and nervous and excited. It's still, after all this time, The First Day.

It's also an anniversary, of sorts: The first day of school is what finally made me ask for something to change in our marriage.

Jake used to take me out to dinner the night before the first day. As a teacher, this is one of my Big Days: The First Day, Graduation, Opening Night. Having someone at my side, recognizing their importance, meant something.

Jake had been spending more and more time in China. Eventually, he missed one of my productions. He started missing my birthday. I realized he hadn't been to a graduation in years.

Two years ago, when he told me, despite a month of reassurances to the contrary, that he wouldn't be back before school started, I fell apart. It was just one miss too many. "I need something to change," I said. It was the first time I'd said it in five years. They were five years of being told, "I can't work on this relationship now. Next year will be different. It won't be like this next year."

"You keep saying it will be different soon," I said. "Tell me — is it really ever going to be different?"

"No," he said.

"Then I can't do this anymore," I said. And then he told me he was going to stay in China. That this is what he wanted, more than he wanted me.

This is my second year starting school with no one else to mark the occasion with me. Third, if we count the year we made that decision.

I had a lovely day and made myself a lovely little dinner, but, still, having someone that I can share that with, someone who knows this day's importance to me and recognizes it — I really miss that. 

After last week's pity party, I came to the realization that I have been handling things all wrong. Instead of letting my current situation (of being an overeducated and unemployed professional squatter) take me down, I need to have a more Sisyphean approach.

The seemingly insurmountable obstacles can be broken down into simple tasks: I am to get up every day and put forth the effort look for a job for a few hours a day. Then move on to the next task: studying for the GRE.

Then I'll tackle research questions and design and polishing my writing samples.

After this task, I'll move on to the next, and to the next and to the next...until I get a job. Luckily, this will not be my fate forever — it only feels that way.

My biggest adversary throughout this process is myself. I overanalyze almost everything, and I'm too harsh when things don't work out my way. If ever I can figure out how to keep my inner taskmaster at bay, it will be smooth(er) sailing from that point on.

Something will come to pass from my diligence — I am too stubborn to be beaten by this.

As Morrissey of the Smiths sang, "Please, please, please, let me get what I want...this time."

Though the lyrics to the song of the same title are a bit dramatic, they're fitting, given the current state of my life.

It has been a rather long time since I have had anything that even moderately resembled smooth sailing. I am trying my damndest to not let everything get to me, but there's only so many times that a person can get kicked in the teeth before they stop smiling.

Anyone who has had an unyielding string of bad luck knows exactly what I mean. Even the brightest glimmer of hope and happiness seem to be overshadowed by impossibility and hardship these days. I don't mean to be a Negative Nancy — especially since this goes against every fiber of my being. But I am tired. Fucking tired.

All I want to know is, When does the time come to harvest the fruits of my labor and relish in its bounty? There is a point in time when this is possible, right? If there isn't, then what's it all about?

I need a vacation, but can't afford one. I need a break from reality, but those don't exist. I need a dose of happiness that lasts for more than a few hours and isn't overshadowed by the impending doom that seems to be riding shotgun to that very happiness.

I need a serious reprieve from all that is my life right now.

It seems the tide may be turning, but I want to be careful not to rock the boat — or do I? I have recently been given the keys to a friend's apartment in New York City.

My friend Wendy is taking advantage of the summer to visit with her family in North Carolina, before the next semester starts in the fall. This couldn't have happened at a better time for me, as I needed to be closer to the city than my upstate digs would allow.

During the past week, I actually was called in for several interviews. Ordinarily, interviews are not on my list of favorite things to do. But being that things are so tight with the economy, I am happy to be at the point where I am getting callbacks.

But now I am faced with a dilemma.

After one four-hour marathon interview, I was offered a job.

After a half-marathon, two hour interview, I was not offered a job, but am optimistic about my chances.

What I don't like is the wait — two to three weeks while they interview the remaining candidates.

Do I take the job offered to me, or do I wait to see if I am "the right fit" for the other organization's program.

Do I go for the job that is something I really want to do? Or do I go for the job that would offer me a definite paycheck?

Decisions, decisions...

In a conservative town in Nebraska, Sara learned many lessons from her relationship and her divorce. "Trust your gut,” she says. “When you become a mom you have to do what’s best for your kid.”

Some people think you should put your husband first, she says, “but if you’re in a family situation that will negatively impact your kid, you have to take care of them. You’re responsible and at some point your motherly instincts kick in and you have to what needs to be done.”

You also, of course, have to take care of yourself. If she had stayed with the marriage, she says, “I would be the mother to two people instead of just one. He would be very happy. I would work outside the home” — in the Air Force — “take care of the domestic duties and bills, and he would be free to do what he wanted to. I could have dealt with the situation, but I wouldn’t be happy."

On the other hand, being on your own, she says, can be tough. “Dating sucks with a child,” she says.

And then there is the regret: “You always worry that you could have done something to make it work... could I have done this or that, tried harder... any number of things. You’re going to second guess yourself. So know that that will happen, and it will be hard and trying, especially if you work, because you don’t get a break.”

Eventually, she says, it pays off.

The secret to making it through a divorce in the Midwest is to find a good support system. In her case, that was not her home church, which shunned her, even though she was a children's ministry leader there.

She felt the church thought she was a bad example to the kids. "I was asked to take a break from any church ministry. It was like, 'You are divorced so now you should rethink things.' "

She found a new church with a more liberal mindset and credits the congregation with helping her through the rough time.

First thing you learn, at least the first thing I learned, about being a single mom: it’s hard, almost impossible. I signed the lease for my new apartment on my 10th wedding anniversary. Let’s just say I’m a deadline-driven kind of girl, and after years of thinking “I can be broke, and alone all by myself,” it hit me, my deadline was 10 years. I had to get out.

That was two years ago. At the time, my daughters were 4 ½ and 21-months, and PBS had just aired a documentary called “P.O.V – Waging a Living.” The film looked at four people, three of them single moms, all working full-time and none making enough to make ends meet.

How’s that for a timely glance into the crystal ball?

One by one their stories debunked the American Dream, which is work hard and you’ll get ahead. One-quarter of the adult workers in this country have dead-end jobs paying less than the federal poverty level for a family of four. That’s 30 million people.

There was the 41-year-old waitress and mother of three young kids who made $2.13 an hour and sometimes paid more than 90 percent of her nightly tips to the babysitter. Yep, right there with you, sister. My gig was working nights in the sports department of a local newspaper, but I didn’t make much. The one night a week I both had the kids and had to work, I paid their sitter a buck an hour more than my hourly wage. Figure in commute time and those shifts cost me $10.

The apartment I picked was small for the price, one bedroom, but it has plenty of green space for the kids to play, and trees to climb. And the selling point, location, was that it was smack in the middle of my three tightest girlfriends’ houses. Five blocks in either direction to two of them.

When you divorce, everyone and their Aunt Nellie tell you to go where you have the strongest support. In other words, make sure you are living in the right village, because it’s going to help you raise your kids.

I appreciate all of those who seem to be committed in their efforts to finding me a man, but could you help me find a job first?

I am saying this because — well, let’s face it — I feel as if I’ve been pushed to.

More times than not, I have had people ask me in some form or another when I planned to start dating. Now that I am finished with school for the time being, many people see this as a time for me when I should to get back in the saddle, find a man, and ride him off into the sunset. But I would rather prefer to have a steady job rather than a steady beau.

But I am left to wonder, why do so many people place such a premium on being in a relationship – even at the expense of self-fulfillment?

It just seems irrational — and irresponsible — to try to land a boyfriend before landing a job. Would you splurge on a luxury vacation before paying your rent? I think not. So why waste time looking for a mate rather than look for a job?

Human beings are social animals. I know this — I’m a sociologist. I also know that there are basic human needs that we all have that need to be met, should we want to feel complete. Referring back to Abraham Maslow’s pyramid schematic, says that one would see that safety and financial security actually come before relationships and sexual intimacy. What I want to know is; why then do friends and acquaintances worry more about my romantic life than my professional life?  And when did the flip occur? Why is it that so many people seem to place the need of being fulfilled by others over self-fulfillment? Does it seem less embarrassing (or more interesting?) to say “Have you finally met a guy?” than “Did you finally find work?”