At the newspaper stand at rush hour in Grand Central station last night, I bumped into a very special male friend of mine from college. I hadn't seen him since he held my daughter in his arms, and I was living at my first apartment.

It was an instant reaction. I threw my arms around him.

There is nothing like the warm familiarity of an eternal friendship. A timeless hug. We shared a knowing belly laugh.

He asked about my ex-husband.

He told me he had seen me on TV along the way, and had meant to call me after my brother's death.

But he was rushing to make the next train and, in a flustered and pained moment, explained that he too had gotten divorced.

His now ex-wife apparently had something to do with his not keeping up his friendships over the years.

He was off to pick up one of his daughters, and he explained that things with his other daughter were challenging.

He had moved to an apartment.

He was clearly distraught and overwhelmed by his new, divorced lifestyle.

He said men really need help with this.

I said I know.

I told him that I could help.

We are going to talk again.

So I'm having my coffee, typing away, and rushing to leave in time for the early exercise class, when my workout buddy Vi, a fellow single mom, calls and says we have an emergency.

She asks anxiously, "Do you know how to tie a tie?"

"Of course." I mean, I think of course.

Her son, who just graduated from college, had his first real interview in an hour, and her live-in boyfriend had left for work.

"No problem, I'm on the way."

I always say "No problem" even if it is a problem.

I have lived with men most of my life and, rushing over to her house, I was reviewing "Tie 101" in my head.

But, when I got there, before I experimented on her son, I felt I needed to tie one on myself first.

Let's see: skinny part in the left hand, then wrap the thicker side with the right hand around twice, and come back up though the collar loop, and stuff it down under this wraparound part, and out the other side and pull.

Voila!

But I'm choking, and the tie is up to my breasts.

I try again — and again — and again.

How could I forget this?

Apparently living solo with a daughter and not watching men get dressed up anymore has taken it's toll.

I decide to try it around his neck the next four attempts: too short, too square,
too tight, too too.

This handsome young man was being very patient. I could not let him down.

So I grabbed the tie off his neck and tried it on myself one more time -- I know this thing should just slide on and off.

Aha! I have made a classic tie.

I slip it off my neck and onto his and it was perfect!

I wanted to follow him to the interview, just to see if anyone noticed or commented about how crisp his tie looked.

I am relieved.

However, just to be sure I keep my skills fresh, I've decided to start inviting more men over to watch them "get dressed."

(Wink)

Dating after divorce can be a wonderful new beginning, but everyone approaches it differently. Below is a list I came up with to describe various divorced gals dating styles I've observed over the years.

Ladies, you will find that you may fit in to more than one category. Some of you will even transition back and forth between categories at any given time. Let me know if I've missed any. Gentlemen, which of these gals have you dated?

Hopefully this will help you understand better who might be sitting across from you the next time, too.

Damaged Daters You don't trust anyone anymore with your heart. You've been burned. You are not so quick to jump back into another relationship, but you go anyway because you think you are supposed to at least try. Your cynical vibes smell defensive and stink up the room. Wear extra perfume.

I Don't Care Daters You are not interested. You're energy is focused elsewhere. You need time to to find out who you are. You go just because someone's very nice but you really don't care, but you don't let him know you don't care. He doesn't pick up you don't care so he calls you again and you go again..even though you don't care.

I Just Want To Sleep With You and Not Really Talk to You Daters Your hormones are swinging and you're going to try and act the way you think some men act, and just use someone for sex. You want this person to treat you like they care about you, even though you don't really care about them. You are loving the fact that you never expect a call, and call them when they least expect it. Woo Hoo!
Sneaky Daters -You don't really want anyone to know who you are dating or where you are going. You go out of your way to find "out of the way" meeting locations and rely heavily on GPS. You are shady with family and friends who suspect you are 'seeing someone" but have no idea who. This can go on for years.

Yesterday in NYC I was walking briskly along with a businessgal buddy when the oddest thing happened. I hooked a man — literally.

I was carrying a suit bag filled filled with clothes on hangers over my left arm as we yapped our way down the street.

An older gentleman and his wife were walking past us in the opposite direction. They obviously passed too close and somehow my hangars hooked on the husband, and yanked me backwards after him.

I was trying to unhook myself from him but his wife thought I was intentionally molesting him and was pulling him away from me yelling, "He's mine!"

She obviously didn't see the hanger.

Strangely, the same thing had happened just three minutes before with a construction guy as I was crossing the street. That one almost cost me a two by four to the head.

So here's what I discovered: You can literally hook a man on the street.

Now I just have to work on my aim.

This is the story of how last night I landed in that 100,000 degree yoga class I swore I would never go to. How I made it through without waking up to the eyes of a paramedic I will never know.

It was 6 pm. I just got off the train from NYC and was heading to my suburban NYSC gym for a spin class when I got a call from Vi, my gym buddy. Vi said, Joann (her sister and my other gym buddy) wanted to try the 7:30 Bikram yoga instead — that they were having some trial special.

Not the hot yoga? I asked. Yup, that's the one. I had to pull over. This did not sound appealing. I wanted to say no, but I said yes. My high heels were killing me and I needed coffee first, so I stopped at Starbucks. First problem. You never drink coffee before hot yoga. The woman at the desk looked horrified when I walked in with the cup. It raises your heart rate she said.

Now I'm horrified, since this seems like a very bad thing right now. You didn't eat recently, did you? she asked. Well, I did not get the memo on yoga protocol between the train and the class, so yes, I just had a banana shake on the train that was one of the four meals allowed on my Diets4idiots first day.

I now notice that people are practically naked sitting in the hallway and I am already feeling hot. Has anyone ever died in here? I pay, grab my towel, and head to change and some girl yells that I am not allowed to walk in there in heels. We don't want pebbles in our mouths she said. Pebbles in our mouths????? Holy Zen. Second infraction...you need to leave your shoes at the door. Good thing they don't give out yoga tickets.

My girlfriend just emailed me and asked if I had "blog block." Yup guess that's it. A name for my condition. I didn't realize it was an official condition till just now.

You may have noticed the date of my last post. So what — you ask — have I been doing?

Well...everything you could possibly imagine and some stuff you wouldn't even believe.

Lately I have only two speeds — GO and PASS OUT — and I maximize every hour of the day I am blessed with.

Funny, I write all day long in my head but apparently my head and my hands have not been communicating. I assume that would translate into Blocked- Head as opposed to Blockhead which is so unfeminine....

So I am in search of the antidote to Blog Block and I aspire to my next post — shortly.

Debbie

Marriage is wonderful when it works. Everyone is looking for a happily ever after.

But marriage takes energy, and these days average couples are working harder than ever to keep a marriage together, so you can imagine the challenge for a couple in the limelight, like Star Jones and Al Reynolds.

Someone told me they overheard Star on a plane a couple months ago saying that she and her husband had not even been in the same city over the last few months.

Can't blame the airlines for this long a layover.

For reasons only Star and Al know, one or more things along the way changed up their original gameplan for their version of..."happily ever after." I don't think she had that big wedding with the intention of getting divorced...getting a few freebies, maybe.

No one has a wedding with the intention of getting divorced. No one should judge, though people due to human nature cannot help themselves. Like Star said, "The dissolution of a marriage is a difficult time in anyone's life that requires privacy with one's thoughts."

Regardless of who files for divorce, it's painful and awkward for everyone involved.

There will be some other version of "happily ever after" for her and for him.

Though it's hard to imagine at the time, usually events that force change often bring you to a stronger better place — sometimes just a stronger arm — but hey, that also works.

Everyone who goes through divorce has another version of "happily ever after" within their reach.

I will always know when it's Ivana Trump's new wedding anniversary, because I got married on the same day — April 12th. Difference is, I'm no longer married — thus the date no longer applies to me.

But the date does still exist, and every year all the faded, happy wedding day memories rush back and linger for 24hrs, along with a feeling that makes me a little queasy. It's kind of like the feeling you get on the birthday of someone you once loved who is dead. The wedding anniversary that no longer exists. A surreal event that you and your ex remember silently, privately, in separate new worlds on that day every year... Gone... Poof!... except for the wedding photo album which you have stashed away — somewhere.

So, while Ivana was getting married to her scandalously young fourth husband in Palm Beach (gotta love her), I celebrated Her/Our anniversary with my brother's kids at a Japanese restaurant, followed by a big sleepover at my house. My daughter (who was out with her boyfriend) came home late and woke me up off the floor where I fell asleep, discussing the meaning of life with a 9 year-old.

Last night I went to one of the now recurring High School girlfriend gatherings at PF Chang's up in Stamford, Ct.

Remember what they said about Catholic HS girls? Well they were right — only we are much worse now. Only kidding — not really — half-kidding...geez we love to laugh.

Anyway, there's a pretty diverse group: Some married forever, with kids without kids, some divorced, and some have just stayed solo. Oh yeah, and one honorary husband who can't get enough of us. The group grows every time we convince someone through a chain of frenzied emails to locate someone from our past and convince them they are missing out on all the fun.

For years, when I was struggling as a single mom gone awry, I wouldn't show up. Then one day I was glad I did, and the unconditional girlfriend friendship convinced me to do it again and again.

Last night, one of the "lifelong solo" girls, having recently launched Mr. Wrong, announced she bought herself a boat. I suggested we give her a "boat shower". Solo gals get ripped off. They never get the payback benefit of all those bridal and baby showers they've paid into.

So it's done. The "boat shower" is in the works. We're just waiting for her to register at some marine shop so we don't all show up with the same little dinghys.

Hi guys,

I am on the way to Rhode Island. The love for First Wives World and all that we represent continues. We got a call last week from a company which produces features that air on hundreds of TV stations wanting to do a story. So, today is the day and I am on my way.

It's a one day trip and I have five jackets, six hair contraptions, four pairs of shoes, an arsenal of make up, my computer, phone and a plethora of plugs and chargers. This is one of those days it might have been nice to have had a "better half" who might have convinced me I didn't need half this stuff.

But then again, the "better half" might have wanted to come along and drive, and if there's one thing I don't miss it's begging someone to make a pit stop or two... or three... or four...

Love,

Debbie Nigro, First Wives World's Chief Executive Girlfriend