I don't know why, but it occurred to me when taking my shower this morning that I've been divorced close to 10 years.

I remember taking a break from work that day, going over to the Hamilton County Court House and sitting with my soon to be ex-wife and her lawyer. The procedure was pretty brief. The judge asked me a few questions (what I don't remember) and when it was over, I walked back to work.

I treated it just like another day. But, of course, it wasn't.

In the weeks and months to follow, depression sat in. I felt like I had failed at the one thing in my life where I wanted to succeed. With that also came the pain of not seeing my kids everyday. They also had their own grief to go through with mommy and daddy not being together anymore.

For the next few years, we would have difficult, emotional times. But we got through it, I like to think, without too many scars. I'm still close to my daughter and son. Even my ex-wife and I can usually have a conversation without screaming at one another. In other words, we have adjusted.

But life is never quite the same after divorce -- even after 10 years.

When new people I meet ask if I'm married or single, I always feel obligated to say "I'm divorced." With that, sometimes I'll get a raised eyebrow or an "I'm sorry" comment. When I hear that, I usually say "Don't be."

And I'm not trying to knock my ex-wife. I have come to realize over the past 10 years that it's better for me not to be in a marriage. Being on my own suits me fine.

I communicate this fact to my friends, but I don't think they're listening to me. Being divorced so often means your friends are going to try and fix you up with somebody.

It happens to me too often. Sometimes, it's all right. Sometimes I'm lonely and think it would be nice to be with someone, so that's why I usually say yes to the blind dates.

I remember Karen. We met through a friend of a friend. We talked on the phone a few times before getting together. She knew about my divorce and also knew I had recently broken up with somebody who I really cared about. We both talked about the need to go slow and to communicate with each other as to how we were really feeling. I thought we were on the same page.

Despite the fact that I was two years away from being 50, she thought I was cute and funny. I thought she was cute too, but too young for me. When having dinner at Ambar in Clifton, she kept leaning over in our booth to kiss me.

And I let her do it. Why? Maybe I was flattered? Who knows.

To make a long story short, she wanted to go to Borders Bookstore over in Northgate to do some shopping. We ended up making out in the coffee shop there. And to my horror, somebody I work with saw us.

So much for Karen, but I didn't learn from it.

Let's call her Barbara, who is also divorced. We went to a movie, and then had some drinks afterwards. It was a good time. I liked her.

When I dropped her off at her apartment, I suspected I would walk her to the front door and kiss her goodnight. Turns out, she wanted more than that.

Even before I could get out of the car, she was on me.

"All right," I said to myself, "I can go for a little necking in the front seat."

She takes her top off ­ then her pants. Before I know it, she's naked in the front seat of my old Geo. She unzips my pants, lowers her face and puts my ... well ... I think you can figure out what happens next.

A man can't fake it. I finally said, "You know, I was hoping we could go slow with this? I would actually like to know your last name?"

I could also mention adventures with Heather, Sue and Robin, but what's the point? Despite the fact I'll be 50 in a few months, I know I'm a little shy. I'm also old-fashioned. If I'm in bed and touching the body of a woman I hardly know, I can't help but wonder ­ what would my children think?

Divorce doesn't always mean I'm going to be thinking with my third leg or that I'm easy. I don't assume that with the person I'm with either. I think divorced people ­ at least I do ­ want to hold back a bit. We want to take new relationships slow. In other words, we don't want to be hurt again.

For me, it would be nice to take someone to the movies and come out of the theatre holding hands. Maybe afterwards, we could go get some coffee and just talk. We could talk about our failures and disappointments, our hopes and dreams.

Perhaps we could find real intimacy. I don't really know what the word means, but I sure would like to find out.