They say the definition of insanity is to repeat the same thing over and over again, expecting different results. Sometimes I wonder if dating is a form of insanity.

Think about it: We date, over and over again – perhaps falling into some form of love (I'm still working on defining the word) – and ultimately, at least thus far, it all falls apart, leaving us feeling empty, broken, despondent, depressed and longing for more.
 
We repeat this process over and over, each time expecting a different result.
 
Each time, we hope that this time it will be different. This time it will work out. This time I've found my prince charming.

My relationship with the new guy is going well, so well in fact that I find myself frightened. So well that I think I may purposely screw it up, just so that I can remain in control.
 
That's the scariest part of a relationship, I think: the feeling that you are out of control. If you fall in love with someone, you give them the power to hurt you.
 
I don't want to be hurt again.

I can't allow myself to be hurt again.

I know this.

I know how far I've come since Levi, and I marvel at it sometimes. I am good now. I am at peace now. I am content now.
 
What I don’t need right now is this giddy, makes-me-want-to-throw-up, happy, butterflies-in-my-stomach feeling.

This waking up next to someone, and reveling in it.
 
These dinners and conversations.
 
This falling in love.

I know he's it, my next big thing. Big heartache or big disappointment or big ... something.
 
It's like I'm on a roller coaster headed for a brick wall, I know I should jump off, but I'm having so much fun that I’ve decided to wait until the absolute last moment.
 
I do not need this right now, but, at the same time, I cannot stop it.

The date went well. Very well, in fact. He seems to be a nice, honest, sincere, smart, and fun guy. Note that I said, "seems to be," because up until now, I wasn't really sure that such an animal existed. I guess I'm still not too sure.

I will say that if I had met him before the “Levi Fiasco” I would have jumped right into this. I would have gone along with the giddy feeling. I would be gushing to all of my friends.

After Levi, I am much more guarded. Now, I can't really feel around all of the walls that I've put up. It's going to be hard, I think, to trust someone again.

I remember falling in love with Levi, and how much fun it was. How euphoric it all felt. How ready I was for it.

I think about it now, I talk to my friends about it now, and I know I'm not ready to do that again. What is "falling in love," anyway? I guess it’s the "falling" part that scares me. Generally speaking, falls are not good. Generally speaking, one hurts oneself in a fall. I know that I couldn't once again deal with the devastation that comes when you lose someone you love. As a result, I worry that I'll never feel the absolute euphoria of giddy, happy, love again.

So for now, I'm just going to take it easy: remain cautious but also try (and try, and try) to relax and enjoy myself. I'll let you know how it goes.

I have a date this weekend — a real date, with a seemingly normal person who is also my age. And it wasn’t just, “So what are you doing tonight?” He asked me out days in advance. I can't remember the last time I've been asked days in advance. I actually don't think I ever have! I am positively giddy.

I met him a few weeks ago, at a meeting. We were both standing outside the building and he just walked over and introduced himself. I was stunned that a rather attractive man was talking to me, so I fumbled and stumbled like an idiot for the entire conversation. I pretty much thought it was over right there. Then I ran into him again, the next day, at a picnic. This time, I only stumbled like an idiot for about an hour. The good thing is that we talked for four hours. The bad thing was that I left without getting his number, and without giving him mine. I felt like a dope. But I ran into him, again, at a Farmers Market. It was 8:30 in the morning. I had just fallen out of bed. I was lugging my son around. And I hadn't even had my coffee. I heard someone yelling my name from across the street. I turned around and there he was. We walked around the market together, had coffee, played with my son, and he even showed me where he lives. This time, I made sure to give him all of my numbers — home, cell, office — and my e-mail. Then I got to sit around and wait for him to call. It took a week, but he did.

The thing was, I was so insecure about it all. I really need to work on that. I know from my own experiences that insecurity is one quality, or rather flaw, that is totally unattractive.

So yes, I have a crush — haven't had one of those since high school! I'm so nervous and excited for our date on Saturday, I'll be sure to let you all know what happens.

I went to my therapist last week (as I do every week) and for some reason she asked me, "Why are you here, what do you hope to get out of therapy?" I pretty much thought we had already established this but I guess she was just checking.

I told her that my ultimate goal — with regard to therapy — at the moment was to let go of the anger. I feel at times that I am so angry that it is holding me back. You wouldn't know it to look at me, either. You might not even know it if you knew me. I'm generally a pretty happy, social, outgoing person. Or at least that is the way I appear. Underneath all of that is one pissed off chick.

I am so angry with Levi (for obvious reasons) and barely a day goes by that I don't at least have a fleeting moment of rage toward him. Sometimes, if I get on an anger "roll," I can be distracted by it for hours.

This is a problem. I need to let it go, accept what he's done so that I can get on with my life.

Anger sucks. Especially when he's not around for me to take it out on.

She suggested that I write a list of things that trigger my anger. I did it, and my list is absolutely ridiculous. In fact, this is probably the only forum where I could share my list and not be looked at funny or laughed at.

Here's one of the triggers I put on my list, just so you can get an idea:

Anything to do with the state of California, especially in the winter — I can't stand that I'm shoveling my car off, probably while holding my baby, while he's sleeping in sunny California.

Do you understand what I'm saying about it being ridiculous? I actually hate the entire state of California, just because he's there. I'm rolling my eyes at myself.

There's been a lot of buzz on the blog in regards to songs and song lyrics that remind us of our exes or of our divorces. It reminded me of how I felt immediately after Levi left and the songs that I listened to.

What is it about the human condition that makes us sort of torture ourselves with stuff like this after a breakup anyway? My divorce process had a soundtrack. For real. I made myself a CD and I listened to it all the time. Sometimes singing along, sometimes crying, but most of the time, pining away.

My divorce soundtrack — along with the particular lyrics that would absolutely slay me — went something like this:

U2, One Love:
"Did I ask too much
More than a lot
You gave me nothing
Now it's all I got"

Johnny Cash (previously done by Nine Inch Nails), Hurt:
"What have I become
my sweetest friend
Everyone I know
Goes away
In the end
And you could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt"

Dave Matthews Band, Stay or Leave:
"Wake up naked, drinking coffee, making plans to change the world
while the world is changing us.
It was good, good love.
And you used to laugh under the covers,
maybe not so often now
The way I used to laugh with you was loud and hard"

The Felice Brothers, Wonderful Life:
"Me and you have done the same damn thing
We fell in love knowing the pain it would bring
Now all I do is sing
Sad songs with red underneath"

Ani Difranco (every girl going through a divorce needs Ani), Done Wrong:
"like how could you do nothing
and say, i'm doing my best
how could you take almost everything
and then come back for the rest
how could you beg me to stay
reach out your hands and plead
and then pack up your eyes and run away
as soon as I agreed"

What would you do if your ex called you and revealed all of his personal problems to you? What would you do if the ex in question was an ex like Levi? An ex that not only treated you like crap, but your son as well?

This is the place I suddenly find myself.

In a weird, out-of-the-blue phone call, Levi revealed to me all of his personal problems. And boy, oh boy, does he have a big one. I'm not going to go into all of the details just yet but I will say that he was recently diagnosed with a serious medical issue. Now he wants my sympathy. Now he wants my compassion.

Do you see why I wrote about my father earlier this week?

I'm trying to figure out why I even discussed this with him. Why I didn't just say, "It's not my problem," and hang up on him, as he would surely do to me. I must admit, though, that I was rather pleased with the fact that for once, we were not screaming at each other.

I cannot believe that at this very moment, I am sitting here trying to figure out ways to help him.

And this is how it goes. Every time I feel myself breaking away from him, I find myself being reeled back in.

I think right now, I have to adopt some of Levi's selfishness. I think that I'll be capable of sympathizing with Levi, on some human level; but I don't think it's my job to be his sounding board, or even to help him.

I've never been an "eye for an eye" type of girl, but man, I hope this will open up his eyes.

I know we're supposed to be talking about divorce here, but I want to interject for a moment, and tell you all about my dad. My therapist seems to think that my relationship, or rather, lack of a real relationship with my father, is extremely relevant to the topic at hand.

My father is an alcoholic and a drug addict. He's a lying, manipulative and abusive person. He makes me absolutely nuts.

I can't even tell you how hard it is for me to admit this, it's so embarrassing.

He's probably been this way my whole life, but being that I was so young, I didn't realize it. It all became apparent though, by the time I was 13, and he went to jail for the first time. At least the first time that I know about.

He went to jail, he got out, he made my life hell — taking me with him to cop drugs, driving around drunk with me in the car, saying nasty, belligerent and inappropriate things to me and to my friends — then he went back to jail again. The process would repeat itself over and over and over again. Except sometimes jail would be substituted with a stint in the hospital and a promise that everything was going to change.

It's 15 years later, and he's still doing the same thing.

He's in Virginia now — just got out of jail again. Of course, it was someone else's fault. It always is.

After he was released from jail this time, the state (I think) paid for him to stay at a motel, for a week. He called me while he was there, telling me that he had a job and a plan, etc. etc. etc. The next call I got was from a social worker at a psychiatric hospital, informing me that my father was there and that she'd like to speak to me.

My good friend was babysitting Adrian for me a few days ago. When I walked into the house to pick him up they were putting together a big wooden puzzle of the United States.

Adrian must have had the California piece in his hands because I heard Rachel say, "That's where daddy lives, in Hollywood."

Then she turned and saw me and the shocked look on my face.

She said to me, "Faith, that's really the only place for him, you know, being that he's such a superficial asshole."

I get it that my friends think Levi is an asshole. I get it that they are totally disgusted with him. Really, how could you not be.

But should this go on around my son?

No, it shouldn't.

But is telling Adrian that his "daddy" lives in California appropriate either? I don't know.

I've said all along that when he asks, I'll tell him the truth. But now, as he is talking quite well, and getting closer and closer to asking, I'm not really sure what the "right truth" to tell him is.

I guess the simplest truth is that he is in California.

Some people think that Levi will eventually come around. Come around, you know, be emotional, form a bond, take part in his son's life. Mostly though, the people that believe that don't really know him.

My classes started a few days ago and I was pleasantly surprised. All of this time I've been thinking — or rather, stressing out — that I may have gotten in over my head. "Taking 12 credits over the summer is highly ambitious," said the advisor. "Are you sure you're going to be able to fit it all in?" she asked.

I have a tendency to do that. I get excited about something and really overload myself. I like to get a jump on things. I like to finish first.

These classes are going to be relatively easy, though. The professors are really great, the coursework is interesting to me, and now, I'm really excited.

I was talking to a new friend about Adrian yesterday. I told her how looking back, I don't know how I've done what I've done so far.

It seems almost unbelievable to me now that I gave birth, took care of an infant, moved around and have been working full time, all by myself. I don't know how I did it. I do know that now, as a result, I am a coffee addict. But hey, whatever gets you through, right?

But the truth is, I do know how I did it. I wanted to do it.

I recently attended a lecture about the workings of the human brain, specifically in regard to memory. During the lecture we were each asked to think back at to our earliest memory, then we were asked if we were seeing ourselves, as if looking at a picture, or if we were looking out, like we see things every day. Everybody said that they were seeing themselves.

Apparently this is because in order to keep a memory we must replay it over and over again, transferring it from one brain receptor to the the following. If you are seeing a memory as a picture, that is what your brain has done. I find all of this completely fascinating.

And of course, it got me thinking about Levi. What if I could just get rid of all of the memories that I have of him? Wouldn't that be fantastic?!

I find that the things I remember the most — the memories that really stick out — are not the "major" ones you'd think. Not the wedding, not the first "I love you," not the first kiss. They're the small, sometimes silly things.

I remember I told him that we were having a boy and he jumped up and down like a little kid. (I guess that one is a big one.)

I remember watching him dance alone at some bar in Manhattan looking like a total fool.

I remember some of our conversations absolutely verbatim, while most days I can't remember what I had for breakfast.

In all of these memories, I am looking out. Apparently this means that they are "fresh" memories, and have not yet needed to be relearned for storage purposes.

So what if I just never relearned them when the time came? What if I made a pact with myself to somehow erase the memory of Levi from my life?

Has anyone ever seen that movie Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind? It would be kind of like that.

What if somebody told you that they could erase all memories of your ex for you? Would you do it?