Jake had a thing about giving me jewelry. In his head, this is What Husbands Did. If one had a Wife, one got her Nice Things.

No matter that the wife in questions said, "I don't really like jewelry." No matter that she said, "I don't like to wear jewelry." No matter that she said, "At the very least, please don't ever get me anything gold."

"Happy anniversary," he'd say. "I know you don't like gold. I know you never wear jewelry. But I got this for you anyway."

So, I have this jewelry box, and it's filled with things. Gold things, mostly. Expensive things. Things I never wear. Things I didn't want in the first place. Things I have no use for.

And yet — two years later — I still have them.

Why? Is it because dealing with the process of appraisal and sale will take some effort? Is it because just the idea of yet another errand dealing with this divorce exhausts me?

Or is it that the idea of losing those presents is hard? Because — even though they speak so much to Jake's lack of understanding of me, lack of interest in what I liked and cared about — they were still given out of love.

So much pain is left when a marriage ends that it's hard to look back at what was good and happy without those memories being tainted, somehow, by all the hurt.

This could be grad school tuition, here in this box. This could be a vacation, or a couple of the cross-country plane tickets I'm burning through these days.

What will it take to open it up and take some action?

We were on our third date when S put down his knife and fork, looked at me seriously and told me there was something we had to discuss.

Uh oh. This doesn't sound promising.

Tentatively he asked: "How do you feel about ski lodges?"

Ski lodges? Well, I'm not a skier — no mountains in the Midwest where I grew up — but what's not to like about ski lodges? I like fires, cozy chairs to curl up in and read books, drink hot rum toddies. So sure, I told him. I like them.

Visibly relieved, he went back to his dinner.

Two months into our relationship, he asked me what I thought about sailing. Again, not something I had much experience with. Blue skies, bluer waters, warm breezes, fancy drinks with little umbrellas in them; again, what‘s not to like? So yes, I told him, I like sailing.

He smiled. "Would you and the girls like to join me for a week sailing in the British Virgin Isles next spring?"

Oh dear Lord, I think I love this man.

In my 15 years of marriage, we didn't travel much. Starting our own business and having kids one-two-three were contributing factors, but the reality was that Ex didn't like going outside his comfort level.

He liked to eat the same meals at the same restaurants, go to the same resorts. The one time we went to Japan on a business junket, he wouldn't even venture out of the hotel during free time. So visiting my folks in South Carolina was about the extent of our vacation experiences, where Ex would immediately set up a temporary office so he could work.

Before Levi I was never capable of having "emotionless, no strings attached, sex." Being somewhat of a hopeless romantic, I couldn't even fathom such a thing. I wanted love, I wanted passion, I wanted romance. Everything else just seemed dull.

After Levi though, I completely understood. I didn't want a relationship. I didn't want to hear about anybody's problems. I didn't want to go out to dinner. But I did, sometimes, want to have sex. So, no strings attached sex became my "thing." Being new to that game I quickly discovered a few things.

1. There is no such thing as "no strings attached sex." Sure everyone talks a good game, men especially. But when you actually start playing you realize that emotions creep up (obviously varying) no matter what the situation. We are human, we have emotions. Damn.

2. These "relationships" are actually harder to manage because in between having sex all you're talking about is how great it is that you're not getting attached, how awesome it is that you're not in a relationship, how not jealous you are, etc. When actually, you are in denial, or at least one of you is.

3. As a result of all of that, these relationships oftentimes have messier break-ups than traditional relationships. Why? Because neither party was being completely honest and that is bound to hurt someone's feelings.

I just found this out again. And this time, it was my feelings that got hurt.

Found myself engaging with a man that I had already known for a bit who is also going through a divorce. We found ourselves talking about the divorce process at a party one night. Shortly thereafter we found ourselves having a "casual fling."

What's hardest about being the one who was left: There's a lot of fear left over. Fear of risk. Fear of hurt. Fear of being left again.

Over everything, coloring everything, is that fear of ending up back in that place — the place that comes before the leaving. That place where you love, where you want, where you're willing to try and he isn't. That place where you're simply waiting — on the side, in the back — hoping for a smile, a word, some time. Hoping he'll remember that you're the one he chose. Hoping that he'll choose you again.

There's nothing worse than wanting someone who doesn't want you back.

So when the person you're with now, the person you've come to love — despite trying not to, despite fighting it — dithers, wavers, backs off, it's that worst feeling all over again.

It's not fair, really. It's not as though the other party isn't entitled to his own fears. It's not as though it's something that can't be worked through. It's not as though this isn't a normal part of a figuring out a relationship.

But even knowing all that, even knowing that you shouldn't look for parallels, shouldn't panic, shouldn't run and hide, nothing, nothing, nothing makes you feel as terrified and unhappy and wishing to god you had never let yourself love someone else as thinking — even for a day, even for an hour — that someone else, someone again, doesn't think you're enough.  Doesn't want you enough.

And maybe that's lot of pressure to put on someone new. Maybe it's a lot of pressure on yourself — to constantly try not to fear, not to worry, not to expect the worst.

But all you want is to be wanted. All you want is someone who wakes up, sees you, and thinks that's the most wonderful thing in the world. That seems like so much to ask. It also seems like so little.

By Paul Lambert, FWW co-founder.

With knees knocking, a divorce rap swirling in her head, and her Adam's apple lodged in her stomach, Debbie Nigro energetically took to the stage at the Gotham Comedy Club in New York and made the whole crowd laugh themselves silly.

She was hysterical as she talked about "cougars", the plight of divorced women, her approach to life and fun, and most of all, she shared how absolutely petrified she was standing up there, but what the heck ... "I am giving it up for a good cause".

That made me think about giving... and as she put it, "giving it up".

Marty Ingels once wrote that in this world of "give and take," too many people "take" and not enough people "give".

So I started to reflect this morning on "giving". We can all do it. Give a smile, a word of encouragement, a hug.

Anne Frank said, "No one has ever become poor by giving". And Winston Churchill said "We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give".

So as I sat back and reflected on the courage and determination that Debbie put into her wonderful comedy routine, I thanked God for this wonderful girlfriend who has devoted most of her life to giving to others.

I feel better, had a good laugh, and remembered that great St. Francis of Assisi quote: "For it is in giving that we receive".

Debbie received a lot of applause the other night, but deep down I'm sure she received something much greater: The satisfaction of stepping up to the plate and "giving it up" for a good cause.

My best girlfriend finally broke it off with the married guy she'd been seeing for the past year. Of course she didn't know he was married when she started seeing him, despite suspicious signs.

That doesn't bode well for any of us.

While warnings seem redundant, and books like Greg Behrendt and Liz Tuccillo's He's Just Not That Into You and Jamie Callan's Hooking Up or Holding Out spell out exactly what not to look for, it bears repeating: If a guy looks sweet, but acts sneaky, you should probably be wary. Has to run to catch a train after work? A tan line on his ring finger? Wants to meet for lunch, and go to hotels? Duh!

Even if it's just that little voice in the back of your head that keeps whispering, "This doesn't feel right," then it's probably not right.

The Internet is a constant source of distraction and deception. I've heard of more guys who either get hooked on cyberspace porn, or start to roam in places they shouldn't be. (Why do you think David Duchovny is being treated for sex addiction?)

It seems there's a web site now for almost everything. One of my "happily married" guy pals just met someone from a site that specializes in married couples seeking discreet affairs. A quick Google search, and philanderers.com is just a mouse click away.

My friend insists he's only looking for fun, not out to destroy his marriage, but I know differently. We FWW women can smell divorce coming a million miles away.

Because, divorce stinks; it smells like sex, lies, and the Internet.

A while back — a long while back — I wrote about how in those first few months after Levi left I couldn't stand to look at anything that reminded me of him. This obviously included pictures of us, his clothes, his stuff etc., but also included things that he had bought for me: jewelry, clothes, dishes, and so on.

Although this has changed somewhat — I am once again wearing my favorite pair of jeans, even though he gave them to me — it hasn't completely gone away.

Levi's splitting plan (which was equivalent to that of a criminal running away in the night) wasn't conducive to hauling furniture along with him.
 
Although, he was slightly crafty and snuck a few of his favorite things into a storage shed before he left, I was left with quite a bit of furniture.

(Now that I think of it, I never did say thank you — better get on that.)

Not initially having room for all of it, I put most of it into storage also. (Too bad Levi and I weren't on better terms, we coulda probably gotten a sweet two for one deal.)

Well, now I have the room, and a need, for the rest of the furniture. I have enlisted my friends to help me fetch it next Saturday.

"Why didn't you get it earlier?" my friend Rachel asked. I told her the truth: I didn't quite have the room for it, and, I couldn't stand to look at it. She told me that she had that same problem when she had broken up with a long term boyfriend. "Yeah, I think its a common symptom of breakups," I told her.

Then it hit me. I had an idea. "Wouldn't it be great if I could find another woman with a storage shed of furniture that shed of furniture that she couldn't stand to look at? "We could trade!!"

This guy, Mike — you probably haven't met him. But you've heard of him; I've been going on about him for a while now. I'm sorry that there aren't more of him, that there aren't dozens and dozens, so I could dole him out everywhere he might be needed. Because, it turns out, Mike is pretty much perfect for a divorced girl. At least, this one.

He has never tried to move any faster than I am comfortable with.

He has never said anything negative about Jake, no matter what I've told him, no matter how I've felt, no matter how he might feel. He knows how to be supportive and understanding without being derogatory.

I've had hysterical breakdowns, panic attacks, periods of unexplained misery. He's happily (well, maybe not happily, but certainly willingly and patiently) weathered these, as little sense as they made to either of us at the time.

Most notably, most importantly:

He accepts that this marriage was part of my life, that it is now and will always be part of who I am. He never pretends it didn't happen. At the same time, he knows he doesn't have to feel threatened or compared. He doesn't mind that there was someone else important before him.

I don't know if he has any idea how much of a worry it was that, if I ever got into a relationship again, I would somehow have to ignore or negate or erase those years that were with someone else. But with him, if I'm still sad over this marriage sometimes, if I have a story that involves me as I was before — it's a non-issue. He's enough of a friend that all those parts are just a part of me, and I don't have to pretend they're not there.

So, I'm thanking him.

I wish everyone were as lucky as I am.

I said yes to doing stand-up comedy in NYC Sunday night.

Here I go again terrorizing myself. Why?Why?Why? I won't sleep till it's over. I know my friends think I'm funny, but a packed room of strangers? Once again, I obviously need to prove it's never too late to risk anything — even my reputation.

My producer Mark Goldman made me do this 3 years ago when I was a stand-up virgin. I was freaking out until I got up to the mike and heard the first laugh from the crowd. Then they couldn't get me off the stage.

Some say if I hadn't gone on for 3 weeks I might have won the darn thing. I was disqualified for going past the five-minute window, They flash a red light to get off. I never saw it, just heard the laughs from the crowd and kept rolling.

They had to call the comedy police to get me off.

On Sunday, I will try again, representing FirstWivesWorld.com in the 3rd Annual New York's Funniest Reporter Show and I am one of nine brave souls in a stand-up comedy competition that raises money for Operation Uplink, a unique program that keeps military personnel and hospitalized veterans in touch with their families and loved ones by providing them with free phone cards.

Who am I not to risk my reputation for people who are risking their lives for me?

If you are in NYC, it's at the Gotham Comedy Club starting at 8:30pm.

The event PR is being run by the fabulous Ryan McCormick. The cost is $15.00 and a two-drink minimum. Personally, I may need a couple more before I get up there. Call 212 -367-9000 to see if there are any reservations left. My Ithaca College roommates who spit out their coffee when they heard, may already have bought them all.

Wish Me Luck!