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Co-parenting is rarely a straight, smooth road. Add in the complexities of one or both parents moving on to new relationships, and the terrain can feel even bumpier. But here’s the good news: with the right mindset, clear communication, and a united focus on your children, it’s absolutely possible to remain an effective parenting team — no matter what changes life throws your way. Keep the Kids at the Center Your children are the heart of the team. That means every decision, conversation, and compromise should answer one question first: “What’s best for them?”  Not what’s easiest for you  or most comfortable for your new partner  — but what protects your kids’ stability, emotional health, and sense of security. When kids feel like they have two parents who have their backs, it doesn’t matter who’s dating whom. They feel loved, safe, and less likely to feel caught in the middle. Respect New Relationships — Without Letting Them Take Over New partners bring new personalities, parenting perspectives, and sometimes even new children into the mix. While they shouldn’t be excluded from conversations that affect household life, they also shouldn’t replace the primary parental decision-making team: you and your co-parent. Respect your co-parent’s right to move on, and extend that courtesy to your own life as well. But set boundaries that keep co-parenting decisions between the two of you. Keep Communication Business-Like When Emotions Run High When either of you is in a new relationship, old emotions or insecurities can surface — even if you thought you’d “moved on.”If tensions rise, treat co-parenting conversations like professional meetings. Stick to the facts, avoid rehashing the past, and choose your words as if your boss were cc’d on the thread. It sounds funny, but that little mental trick can keep exchanges from spiraling. Tools like co-parenting apps (OurFamilyWizard, TalkingParents) can help streamline communication and keep a paper trail if needed. Present a United Front to the Kids Disagreements will happen. But hashing them out in front of the kids undermines trust and makes them feel like they have to choose sides. Even if you have to fake it for a few hours, show unity in front of the children. Save debates for private calls, texts, or meetings — and when you reach an agreement, stick to it, even if it wasn’t your first choice. Practice Flexibility — Life Doesn’t Always Follow the Schedule New relationships sometimes mean new commitments, travel, or events. Whenever possible, trade time without turning it into a power struggle. Flexibility today earns you the same courtesy tomorrow — and shows the kids that everyone is willing to adapt for their benefit. Check Your Ego at the Door This might be the hardest part: accepting that your co-parent’s new partner may do things differently… and that’s okay. As long as your children are safe, cared for, and loved, it’s worth remembering that different isn’t necessarily wrong. Your role as a parent doesn’t shrink because someone else is helping. Co-parenting in blended family dynamics takes maturity, patience, and a whole lot of self-awareness. But when you approach it as a team sport , the scoreboard isn’t about who’s right or who “wins.” It’s about raising kids who feel supported and loved from every direction. The truth is, children notice when their parents — and even their parents’ new partners — treat each other with respect. They also notice when bitterness takes over. Choosing to co-parent as a team, even through life changes, isn’t just about keeping the peace; it’s about giving your kids the best version of their family possible. More sassy version coming next. Erin

If you’ve been single long enough to start referring to yourself as “forever solo,” you’ve probably heard all the greatest hits: • “Why are you still single?” • “Have you tried dating apps?” • “Don’t you want someone?” Meanwhile, you’re over here nodding politely while silently screaming, then wondering, "Do you not know me?" Ha! Here’s the thing—being single isn’t so bad -you are embracing the inner you. It’s a season. And like every season, it can (and will) change in its own time. But here’s the magic trick: you don’t have to sit around and wait. You can manifest your next great love story. Step 1: Get Clear on What You Want Not the list your friends think you should have—the one that matters to you. Do you want someone adventurous? Someone who sends good morning texts? Someone who loves dogs more than life itself? Please write it down. Be specific. The universe loves clarity. Step 2: Become the Energy You Want to Attract If you want kindness, be kind. If you want confidence, stand tall. If you want someone who loves to travel, start planning those trips—yes, even solo ones. You’re not just manifesting them—you’re also leveling up yourself. Step 3: Release the Desperation Manifestation isn’t begging the universe for a plus-one—it’s trusting that the right person is already making their way toward you. Live your life. Fill your days with joy, friends, hobbies, and laughter. Love tends to show up when you’re too busy enjoying yourself to notice. Step 4: Make Room for Love Want love? Make space for it. That might mean finally letting go of an ex you still “accidentally” check on Instagram, or deleting that “just in case” situationship’s number. Emotional clutter takes up prime real estate in your heart. Step 5: Stay Open to the Unexpected Your next love might not look like you imagined. They might pop up at a coffee shop, through a mutual friend, or yes—even in your DMs. Don’t slam the door just because the packaging surprises you. Being “always single” isn’t a flaw, you know what you want, and you will get there. Use it to get crystal clear, grow into the person you love being, and build a life that feels good now. That way, when your next love walks in, they’re not “completing” you—they’re complementing an already amazing life. Because love isn’t something you chase, it’s something you welcome. And yours? Oh, it’s already on its way. They are manifesting you as well.

I miss connection. Not just the “5G full-bars” kind, but the real kind—the kind that doesn’t drop you mid-call, ghost you after a good date, or keep you on hold when you’re already at your breaking point. Lately, everything feels unreliable. My mobile service. Dating apps. Work schedules. People. Promises. It’s like the modern world has a million ways to stay “connected,” yet somehow, we’re all just one buffering wheel away from losing our grip. Call Dropped. Again. My cell phone is practically a third limb—attached to me 24/7, handling my business, my blog, my grocery lists, my dating life, my kids' chaos, and the occasional crisis. But when I can’t even send a text or make a call without standing on a kitchen chair with one arm in the air like I'm doing tech yoga... we have a problem. AT&T says I have "coverage." What I have is a $200 monthly bill and five days of silence. It’s giving: emotional unavailability . It’s giving: “seen” but not heard . It’s showing: every man I’ve ever dated in my 40s . Where Did Accountability Go? We live in a world that promises everything and delivers nothing. My provider promised “unlimited.” They meant unlimited waiting. Dating apps promised options. They delivered red flags. Work promised flexibility. Now I’m exhausted at home and  the office. People promise to “call you right back.” They don’t. It's not just about technology—it’s about trust. We’ve built a world that runs on pings and pings alone—no eye contact. No follow-through. Just alerts, algorithms, and automatic replies. Even the people who are supposed to care—your provider, your partner, your boss—seem more invested in metrics than actual connection. I’m Tired of Being Left on Read I’m tired of feeling like everything in life is a one-way message. I sent the text. I show up. I try. I refresh. I troubleshoot. I stay patient. And still—crickets. I don’t need perfection. I don’t need fireworks. I need the basics: Consistency. Clarity. Communication. You know, all the things I now put in my dating profile  AND my customer service complaint emails. The Service I Deserve I want a provider that doesn’t cut out when it rains. A job that doesn’t expect me to be superhuman without giving support.A partner who texts back.Friends who follow through.Kids who don’t scream when the Wi-Fi dips (a girl can dream). I want a world that values real connection again. Because while everything around me keeps getting “smarter,” the relationships—professional, romantic, even digital—are getting dumber. Here’s what I know: I'm done settling. I’m done tolerating dropped calls, ghosted messages, and half-hearted anything. Whether it's my mobile service, my next date, or my next gig—I want presence . I want reliability . I want respect . If you can’t offer that, then don’t offer anything. I’m not interested. Because in this era of fake connections and faulty networks, the real flex? Knowing your worth—and demanding better. Stay true to you, put on a brave face, and in your gut stay true to you!!! xoxo Erin

Let’s talk about hope again  for a second. Not the kind that’s all glitter and unicorns, but the real, gritty kind—the kind that’s hard to hold onto when your world has flipped upside down and your heart is shattered in more pieces than you thought possible. The kind you cling to after your divorce papers are signed, and the silence that follows feels deafening. Yes, that  hope. Here’s the truth no one tells you when everything falls apart: hope is your lifeline. It might feel buried under grief, anger, disappointment, and that familiar sting of betrayal, but it’s still there. Flickering. Waiting. Asking you—gently but firmly—not to give up. When you’ve been through a breakup, especially one that ends in divorce, it’s easy to believe that this is it. That love isn’t in the cards for you anymore. That happiness is something other people get, but somehow skipped over your address. And the world, let’s be honest, doesn’t always make it easy to believe otherwise. But I’m here to remind you: there is always hope . And you don’t have to feel hopeful every single day to believe in its power. You just have to keep a little room for it in your heart. Even on the bad days. Hope is knowing your story isn’t over yet. Hope is showing up for yourself—again and again—even when no one else does. Hope is choosing to believe that just because it ended doesn’t mean you  are broken. Hope is giving yourself permission to laugh, cry, heal, start over, fall in love (yes, even again), or just stay in on a Friday night with popcorn and your favorite rom-com. If you’re struggling right now—if you feel like there’s no light at the end of the tunnel—I see you. I’ve been you. And I promise you, it won’t always feel like this. So how do you maintain hope when everything feels hopeless? Start small. Get out of bed. Make your coffee. Go outside. Call a friend. Write it down. Dance it out. Pray. Meditate. Cuss and cry and scream if you need to. Repeat. Hope is a habit. And like any habit, it takes practice. So here’s your reminder from one divorcee to another: You are allowed to fall apart. But please, don’t give up. Not on love.Not on life.Not on yourself. You’ve come this far. That means something. And if you leave the door cracked open just an inch, hope will find its way back in . xo, Divorcee Dish

No one tells you that the most challenging part of dating after divorce isn’t rejection—it’s the silence. Not the kind of silence that comes with peace or clarity. But the cold, hollow, cut-you-to-the-bone type of silence that follows someone disappearing without explanation. One day, they're making you laugh, texting you good morning, and asking about your day. The next? Gone. No closure. No honesty. Just… silence. It’s become a pattern. Not just for me, but for so many women I know—strong, intelligent, self-aware women who’ve rebuilt their lives brick by painful brick after divorce. We know our worth. We've done the work. And still, we find ourselves stunned by the lack of basic respect in today’s dating culture. Where did the dignity go? When did it become acceptable to walk out of someone’s life without a conversation? To “ghost” rather than express a boundary? To treat people as if they’re disposable? This isn’t just about romantic interests. It’s friendships, too. People who once showed up for you, who knew your story, your pain, your progress—gone when you needed them most. Disappearing isn’t just a dating trend. It’s seeped into every layer of connection. And it hurts. We’ve confused avoidance with kindness. Some will say they didn’t want to hurt you by being honest. But silence is  an answer—and it’s a cruel one. It leaves you second-guessing your instincts, your words, your worth. It’s emotional abandonment dressed up as emotional maturity. I’ve cried over the confusion. I’ve stewed in resentment. I’ve blamed myself. But I’m learning that their silence says more about them  than it does about me . To those who disappear: You could have just said, “This isn’t working for me.” You could have chosen maturity, compassion, and honesty. Instead, you chose the easy way out. But for the person left behind, that choice echoes long after you’re gone. To those still standing in the silence: You are not too much. You are not too emotional. You are not to blame. You are brave for showing up again and again with an open heart, even in a world that too often turns away. You are not alone in feeling disappointed, confused, and hurt. We feel it, too. And we see you. Let’s normalize dignity. Let’s bring respect back into relationships—even the short ones. Let’s stop pretending that vanishing is kindness. It’s not. It’s cowardice masked as self-preservation. You deserve more than silence. You deserve a goodbye. A thank you. A “this isn’t working, but I respect you enough to say it.”You deserve someone who shows up. Fully. With clarity. With kindness. With courage. Until then, we hold our heads high, even when our hearts are low. We speak the words others were too afraid to say. We keep believing that the right people won’t disappear. They’ll stay—and speak. Please know this continues and continues to affect so many of us. If you are doing this to someone, have at least a brief phone conversation or something. Silence is not the answer. Erin

Welcome to the Divorcee Dish Dating Dictionary Dating over 50 isn’t for the faint of heart—it’s a rollercoaster of ghosting, love bombing, awkward silence, and unexpected hope. So what do we do when modern dating leaves us speechless? We make up our own damn words. This cheeky little dictionary captures the emotional chaos, the resilience, and the hilarious truth of what it’s really  like to date after divorce. Whether you’re freshly single or a seasoned swiper, these terms will make you laugh, nod, and say, “Yes— that’s  exactly what I’ve been feeling.” Please read it. Please share it. Live it. Ghostglow : The resilient inner light that remains after someone ghosts you—proof that you're still full of hope, heart, and hotness.“He disappeared mid-convo, but my ghostglow still shines bright.” Lovefetti: The shiny promises and over-the-top affection someone throws around during love bombing, only to sweep it all under the rug once real emotions are required.“He showered me in lovefetti for two weeks straight, then vanished faster than a tax refund.” Textpectation: The rising anxiety that builds while you wait for a reply you know may never come.“I’m battling a bad case of textpectation, send wine.” Worthflare: The subtle glow-up you give off after remembering who the hell you are—usually after being treated like an afterthought.“He flaked again, but my worthflare is blinding today.” Emovoid: That mental space where you keep trying to figure out why he ghosted, even though deep down you already know.“I need to get out of this emovoid and into a bubble bath.” Datenesia: The temporary lapse in judgment where you forget all your red flag rules and swipe right on a six-pack and a beard.“Oops… I think I’ve come down with a case of datenesia again.” Reply rage: The irrational anger you feel when someone who ignored your heartfelt message suddenly texts “hey.” “Oh, now he wants to talk? Cue the replyrage.” Reboundience : That fiery confidence that surges when you bounce back from heartbreak like the badass you are. “I cried for a week, then booked a solo beach trip. Reboundience in full effect Flakequake : The sudden shake-up to your day when someone cancels last minute with a lame excuse or none at all. Crumbcrumbs: The tiny bits of attention someone drops to keep you hanging on without offering anything real. Datejavu: The eerie feeling you’ve been on this same boring date—same convo, same red flags, different dude. Zombae : A former fling who ghosts and then suddenly rises from the dead to 'check in' like nothing ever happened. Slowfade: When someone doesn’t ghost you completely—they take longer and longer to reply until they vanish. These are just a few - check back for more coming soon. If you have a favorite, please send it our way! xoxo Erin

Let’s set the scene: the stadium is buzzing, the crowd is electric, and it’s the perfect moment for lighthearted entertainment between plays. Enter the Kiss Cam — a beloved (or dreaded) tradition where the camera pans through the crowd, landing on unsuspecting couples for a quick smooch and a round of applause. But this time, the OH Kiss Cam gave us more drama than a soap opera. If you haven’t seen the viral clip by now, spoiler alert: it wasn’t all hugs and kisses. The camera zooms in on a man sitting beside a woman — not his wife, as later confirmed. The moment he realizes he's been "caught," panic sets in. He quickly leans away, the woman awkwardly laughs, and the internet does what it does best: explodes. So, let’s talk about it. Was the Kiss Cam in the wrong? Or was he just caught red-handed? The Case for “You Were Caught” Look, if you're cozying up with someone who isn't your partner in a public place, you’re playing with fire. Stadiums are full of cameras, eyes, and now, millions of TikTok users ready to dissect every glance. If you're not doing anything shady, why look like you're trying to disappear into your nachos the second the lens finds you? Kiss Cams aren't lie detectors, but they are mirrors. Sometimes what they reflect is exactly what needs to be seen. In this case, the man’s reaction said everything — not with words, but with body language. And while we’re not here to judge relationships (okay, maybe just a little), the optics were not  good. The Case for “Leave People Alone” Then again, is it the role of the Kiss Cam to play morality police? What started as a sweet tradition now has the potential to air real-life drama in front of tens of thousands of people. That’s not entertainment — that’s humiliation. Some argue that the cameras should come with a disclaimer: "Smile! You’re on potentially life-altering television!" And should a relationship, marriage, or family be put on blast for a few seconds of questionable judgment? Privacy in public spaces is already thin. Do we need to turn awkward moments into viral think pieces? The Reality: Public Is Public Here’s the uncomfortable truth: when you’re out in public — whether at a game, a bar, or even a grocery store — your behavior is fair game. The Kiss Cam didn’t catch anyone in their home. It saw them in a stadium, under the lights, in the crowd. So if you’re doing something you wouldn’t want your partner, your mom, or the internet to see, maybe don’t do it — or at least don’t do it courtside during a televised game. The OH Kiss Cam Drama is the latest in a long list of public-private clashes in the digital age. Was it fair? Maybe. Was it messy? Absolutely. But one thing’s for sure — if you’re not ready for the world to see what you’re doing, maybe you’re not prepared to be doing it in the first place. Lights, camera, consequences. Chime in!

Can’t sleep? Hot flashes hijacking your meetings? Mood swings that make you question your humanity? Anxiety that convinces you everyone hates you, even though they’re just busy? Ahem… ED? (Yes, gentlemen, we see you.) We’re a generation caught between hormone patches, antidepressants, and little blue pills that promise to restore the magic in the bedroom. Menopause shows up like an uninvited guest who trashes the place, and anxiety has become the plus-one none of us remembers inviting. Meanwhile, some of the men we’re dating are popping performance pills with a prayer and a protein shake. And honestly? No judgment. Science is great. Modern medicine is miraculous. Take the meds. Use the patch. Rock the Viagra if that’s your vibe. But can we discuss the other things? The real stuff? Because no pill can fix feeling invisible, no patch makes up for a partner who never asks how your day was. No supplement fills the hole left by years of shrinking yourself to fit someone else’s comfort zone. Men: We know ED isn’t just about sex—it’s about identity, intimacy, vulnerability. It’s okay to talk about it. We’d rather  talk about it than pretend it’s not happening. Women: Menopause isn’t a flaw to fix. It’s not the end of your desirability or your sanity. It’s a transition—not a termination. And anxiety? It’s not a weakness. It’s your body trying to keep up in a world that demands way too much. So, yes—there’s a pill for that. But there’s also: Talking to your doctor and  your therapist Being honest with your partner instead of faking your way through it Not apologizing for needing support Unlearning shame around sex, aging, and mental health Remembering that you’re still hot, hilarious, and worthy—sweat mustache and all. Healing isn’t just in the medicine cabinet. It’s in connection, communication, and calling out the double standards that say men get “refreshed” and women get “hormonal.” So take the pill. Or don’t. But take back your story while you’re at it. Because the real prescription? Compassion. Truth. And a whole lot of “I’m still figuring it out, but I’m showing up anyway.” And there’s no  co-pay for that. Stay in the game, peeps!

When rock interprets heartbreak   Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet has been retold countless times. Still, Mark Knopfler’s 1980 song “Romeo and Juliet” did something unusual — it turned the tragedy into a rock ballad about a modern relationship gone wrong.  The song appeared on Dire Straits’ album Making Movies and was released as a single in January 1981.  Interestingly, it was not issued as a single in the United States but reached No. 8 on the UK singles chart and No. 5 in Ireland.  Right from the opening arpeggiated resonator‑guitar part, Knopfler’s playing sets an intimate mood that builds to an emotional climax before fading back to his voice and guitar.   For many divorcees who once believed in fairy tales, the tune resonates because it acknowledges that not every love story ends happily — sometimes one partner moves on while the other is left holding the memories.  Let’s explore why this song still hits so hard more than four decades later.   A breakup captured in song: Knopfler wrote the song after his relationship with singer Holly Vincent ended.  In an interview, she described their romance as a “scene” that ended because he “couldn’t handle it,” and Knopfler felt used; he later suggested that she was using him to boost her career.  That resentment surfaces in the lyric where the narrator hears Juliet casually say she “used to have a scene with” him.  The song is not a mutual declaration of undying love; it is a one‑sided lament from a man still in love with a woman who has moved on.   Lyrics that mirror a divorcee’s inner monologue: The song’s story differs from Shakespeare’s tragedy: here, Juliet leaves Romeo after finding fame rather than succumbing to family feuds.  Knopfler alludes to the original play and to the songs “Somewhere” (from West Side Story ) and “My Boyfriend’s Back” , highlighting the contrast between romantic fantasy and messy reality.  Romeo can’t forget their past: he “misses the way we used to be” and claims he can’t do “love songs like they’re meant to be”.  He pours out his devotion — “I can’t do everything, but I’ll do anything for you” — while she brushes him off with the cruel line that inspires the chorus: “When you gonna realize it was just that the time was wrong, Juliet?”   Anyone who has been through a divorce understands this dynamic.  One partner might still be rehearsing the relationship’s highlights, replaying promises and small moments (“all I do is kiss you through the bars of a rhyme”), while the other has mentally checked out.  The song conveys the loneliness of loving someone who is no longer there — a feeling many divorcees are all too familiar with.   Music that underlines the ache: The National Style “O” resonator guitar used in the introduction — the same model later featured on the cover of Brothers in Arms — lends the song a ghostly, bluesy quality.  The arpeggios ring out over a sparse rhythm before the band swells in the chorus.  This arrangement mirrors the emotional arc: the verses are reflective and quiet. At the same time, the choruses erupt with frustration when Romeo cries out for Juliet to recognize that they were destined to love each other.  The minimalist instrumentation allows the lyrics to cut through; as a listener, you feel as if you’re eavesdropping on someone’s private grief.   A cautionary tale for romantics: Because the song is rooted in Knopfler’s own breakup, it feels authentic — it isn’t a fairy tale but a cautionary tale.  Ultimate Classic Rock described the track as bridging Shakespeare , West Side Story , and a modern love story “where fame, not family, is keeping the young lovers apart”.  That observation speaks to many relationships that falter under career ambitions or incompatible life paths.  In the song, Juliet leaves the “rough neighbourhood” for a better life; the narrator stays behind, clinging to a past she has outgrown.  Divorcees often face a similar reality — the life you envisioned together no longer aligns with who you have become.   Legacy and covers: Although never a U.S. single, “Romeo and Juliet” has become one of Dire Straits’ signature songs.  It appeared on live albums such as Alchemy and The Night, and has been covered by artists including the Indigo Girls and The Killers .  The Killers’ singer Brandon Flowers called it “one of the finest songs ever”.  Its enduring appeal lies in the universality of heartbreak: listeners of any generation — especially those nursing wounds from a divorce — can project their own story onto Romeo’s lament.   Why it belongs on Divorcee Dish : At first glance, a song about star‑crossed lovers might seem out of place on a blog for divorcees.  Yet “Romeo + Juliet” is precisely the kind of art that helps us process the messy end of a relationship.  It reminds us that your story is not unique ; even rock stars endure breakups that leave them feeling unseen and disposable.  The track also challenges the myth that every romance is destined for a “happily ever after.”  Real life is complicated, timing matters, and sometimes love dies despite the promises.   Listening to Knopfler sing about watching his Juliet walk away can be a cathartic experience.  It allows us to sit with our grief, to recall the good and the bad, and eventually to acknowledge that clinging to a person who has moved on will only prolong the pain.  Ultimately, the song doesn’t resolve the lovers’ story, nor does it provide easy answers.  It simply presents the rawness of loss — and by doing so, it invites us to release our own Romeo or Juliet and step into a new chapter. Your story is just beginning!

Have you ever had that strange moment after your divorce when you instinctively reached for your ring finger—only to find bare skin? Yeah, me too. More than once. It’s wild how something as small as a ring can become such a big part of your muscle memory. Whether you were married for a year or two decades, that band on your finger wasn't just jewelry—it was routine, identity, a placeholder for promises, and a visible symbol of commitment. And then, suddenly, it's gone. I recall a time I reached for it after my divorce. I had just gotten off the phone, absentmindedly went to spin it the way I used to when I was nervous, and paused mid-motion, my hand hovering over nothing. That empty finger hit me like a wave of relief, grief, confusion, and nostalgia—all of it. It happened again when I was washing my hands, instinctively trying to slide it off before drying. Or when I was out and someone mentioned “husband,” and I glanced at my hand out of habit, maybe to remind myself of who I used to be. Maybe to confirm that I wasn’t that person anymore. Here’s what I’ve realized: reaching for the ring doesn’t mean you want the marriage back. It doesn’t mean you regret the divorce. It just means you're human. That gesture, that flick of the thumb, that twist of the finger—isn’t about love or loss. It’s about what was. It's the body's way of catching up with the heart. And over time? You’ll reach for it less and less. Eventually, the reflex fades. Or maybe it transforms. Perhaps instead of reaching for a ring, you get your phone to call a friend. Or come to your journal to write something honest. Or pursue your passport, your goals, and your future. So if you’ve had that moment, reaching for something that’s no longer there, please know that you’re not alone. It’s part of the process and a sign that you’re healing, even in the smallest of gestures. And the next time it happens? Take a deep breath, smile at your growth, and remember how strong you are, rather than looking back.

They tell you love is the glue that holds a marriage together. That if you love someone enough, everything else will fall into place. But what happens when the love is still there, and the marriage still ends? It’s one of the most emotionally complicated experiences anyone can go through: divorcing someone you still love. Not someone you hate. Not someone who betrayed you or broke your spirit. But someone you still care for. Someone you still laugh with. Someone whose presence still feels familiar and warm, yet whose life no longer fits alongside yours. When Love Is Real, But So Is Reality There’s a quiet grief that comes with leaving a marriage like this. It’s not loud and rage-filled. It doesn’t come with broken dishes or shouting matches. It comes with silence. With soul-searching. With those long, tired looks across the dinner table, where both of you know... this isn’t sustainable. You love each other, but you’ve stopped growing together. Or you want different things. Or you’ve lost the ability to communicate without hurting each other. You may still reach for their hand during a movie or know how they take their coffee. You may still remember their childhood stories or admire their sense of humor. But love, on its own, can’t solve misalignment. It can’t fix years of unmet emotional needs, mismatched values, or repeated wounds that never quite healed. You Start to Wonder: Am I a Terrible Person? When there’s no dramatic betrayal or abuse to point to, the guilt is immense. Society teaches us that divorce is the last resort, reserved only for truly broken relationships. So when you leave someone who’s “not that bad”—or even someone good—it feels selfish. You wrestle with thoughts like:- “Why am I doing this if I still love them?”- “What will people think of me?”- “What if I regret this?” The truth is, you can love someone and still choose yourself. That’s not selfish. That’s self-respect. Loving someone does not obligate you to remain in a marriage that depletes your joy, stifles your growth, or quietly breaks your spirit. The Slow Burn of Letting Go This kind of divorce isn’t explosive. It’s slow. It’s painful in its subtlety. You may grieve more deeply because it wasn’t a clean break. You still get a pang in your chest when their name pops up on your phone. You still feel the familiar warmth when you laugh at an inside joke, even months after the separation. You may even miss the comfort of the routine: shared meals, lazy Sunday mornings, planning for the future. The hardest part? Realizing that loving someone doesn’t mean you're meant to build forever with them. And maybe that’s the heartbreak we don’t talk about enough—the one where there was no dramatic ending, just a quiet decision to let go of a relationship that no longer served either of you, even if the love still lingered. Loving Them… From a Distance Some people imagine divorce as the end of love, but that’s not always true. You can still love them in a different way. You can still respect their journey, wish them happiness, and root for their healing, even as you focus on your own. That doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human. And if you have children? That love from a distance becomes even more important. Co-parenting with compassion, setting healthy boundaries, and modeling emotional maturity are among the hardest—but most powerful—things you can do for your kids. Give Yourself Permission So here’s what I want you to know if you’re going through this: You're not broken for leaving someone you still love.- You are not cruel for wanting more for yourself.- You are not a failure for choosing peace over partnership. It takes enormous courage to walk away from “almost enough.” To say, “This love matters, but I still need something different.” Love isn’t always about holding on. Sometimes it’s about letting go—gently, respectfully, and with all the grace you can muster. And if you’re in the midst of that letting go, I see you. I’ve been you. It’s hard. It isn’t very clear. It’s lonely. But it’s also an opening. An opening for the kind of life and love that doesn’t just survive—but aligns, supports, and uplifts. Keep following @DivorceeDish for more unfiltered truth, honest stories, and encouragement for those navigating life and love after marriage. Because we don’t just survive divorce—we rise from it. We are unfiltered - telling the truth from our followers! xoxo Erin

Ah, mid-summer. That sweet spot when everything feels sticky—your sunscreen, your margarita glass, and maybe even your situationship. This season always seems to come with high expectations: rooftop romance, flirty texts, steamy nights, and maybe— just maybe —someone who doesn’t flake after three good dates and a shared Spotify playlist. A girl or boy can dream, right? But here we are. July. And depending on your dating app mileage, you're either: Burned out by bad bios , Clinging to a maybe , In a no-strings situationship that has way too many strings , or Thoroughly enjoying the peace of not being emotionally available to anyone except your dog and your favorite coffee shop barista. —not a sampler platter. So here’s your check-in, straight from the dish: Are You Hot… or Just Ignoring Red Flags? It’s easy to mistake butterflies for intuition and good chemistry for a green light. But remember: just because someone is cute in a baseball cap doesn’t mean they’re emotionally available . If you’re hearing things like:“I’m not looking for anything serious,”“I just got out of something,” or“I don’t believe in labels,” Then, congrats—you're not dating, you're babysitting emotional baggage. And no one has time for that. You’re not a life coach. You’re a whole meal. The “It’s-Complicated” Summer Scenarios Mid-summer often brings the weird middle ground in new relationships: not quite exclusive, not quite casual. Suddenly, someone’s inviting you to a wedding as a plus-one, but also forgetting to text back for three days. What?! Here’s the truth: if someone makes you feel like you’re on the back burner, light your damn fire and roast marshmallows by yourself. You’re not here for confusion. You’re here for connection. There’s a difference. Single and Thriving: A Mid-Summer Flex Let’s be real. Some of us are not dating at all right now —and it’s the best thing we’ve ever done. You know what I’ve found joy in this summer? Solo walks with my favorite playlist Reading on my porch with a cold drink and zero drama Booking trips without consulting anyone Saying “no” without guilt Not shaving. Not once. You don’t have to be in a relationship to be in love with life. Some of the most satisfying love stories start with the person staring back in the mirror. (Even if she still eats popcorn for dinner and cancels plans to stay home.) Mid-summer dating can feel like a confusing cocktail—equal parts sweet, sour, and occasionally too pungent. But if you remember who you are, stay grounded in what you want, and refuse to settle for anything less than genuine love, you’ll be just fine. Whether you’re swiping, healing, flirting, or thriving solo, your summer story doesn’t need a co-star to be worth telling. So turn up the music. Reapply that SPF. And if you’re gonna text someone first, make sure they’re worth  your sparkle. You’re not just surviving summer, love. You’re slaying it. Keep dishing, Divorcee Dish