Category Archives: bitch

Crazy Psycho Stalker Bitches UNITE

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Twist of fate.  I wrote a post awhile back (FB aka SNWMD (social networking weapon of mass destruction) about what a FBUW I am and this lovely redhead who got irate because I posted, “hey, what’s up?” on her boyfriend’s FB page.  As ridiculous as that response was, I respected it and opted not to post on my friend’s (her boyfriend) page again.

Shortly after that time, I went to the beach with this couple and we had a really nice day.  I was a little leery of Red and her possible insane jealous side, but I was really grateful to get the chance to know her a little.  After all, I’ve been friends with her guy for a super long time and I’d prefer we just get along.  Nothing too friendly occurred, but hey, it was a step in a positive direction.

I respected her “jealousy” and ceased posting anything at all on her man’s page.  I even friended her on FB in a show of complete truce-making spirit.  It’s been almost a year since the FB comment which set her off and I felt things were at a more even keel when I finally again posted something light hearted and innocent on my FB page regarding her boyfriend. I hadn’t seen him in a while and he just recently returned from a trip abroad when I ran into him, literally in passing,  and we shared a brief exchange.

I was walking out the door of my local Cheers-type pub.  He was just coming in and I said, Hey L…now that you’ve travelled the world, you probably don’t think I’m the wittiest girl you know anymore huh?  I say this as I give him a hug and continue on to the parking lot.  He quips back to me, Ahhhhh….don’t fret, Kay, you’re still definitely in my top three wittiest people ever!”

I squeal with delight as I jump in my car, I’m still in!  I’m still in!

It’s playful.  It’s fun.  It’s very brief and even more innocent.  And that is that.

So feeling confident that Red no longer sees me as the threat she did a year ago, I boast on FB about this little compliment, tagging L in said post.  “After flitting about the world a bit, my dear friend L still says I’m still in the top three wittiest people.  Oh how I heart a person who can appreciate my wit!”

I don’t see anything wrong with this post and I actually feel confident Red will click “like” on it and/or make a witty comment about it.  She’s pretty witty herself from what I can tell…beyond the jealousy bit.

What I don’t expect was an outright vicious attack on me right there, in FB public!!  All random and psycho like for the FB world to see, i.e., my friends, family, co-workers, etc, etc.  Geesh, do I underestimate the insanity of Red-Hot jealousy or what?!  Yeah, I do. Ummm…..M is for MORTIFIED!

Red calls me narcissistic and vain and brings up how she feels I exercise no boundaries because I applied sunscreen to her boyfriend’s back that day at the beach!

WHAT?  Is this for freakin’ real?  I’m taken aback, flustered, mortified, and enraged all at once.  Are you kiddin’ me?  I didn’t post anything out of line or inappropriate.  I didn’t say, Dear friends, family, and random co-workers, my friend L thinks I’m the hottest chick in the universe, or the most desirable, or the greatest, or the sexiest kitten ever.  Nope.  Just that I’m witty damnit.  Yeah, just witty.  And hell, not even the wittiest of them all, but just still in the top three.  WTF?!

So Red and I have an (OMG!) little drama fest on FB, posting back and forth about this craziness. I should have merely deleted my post, I know….  Yet, I just felt after her wordy, scathing attack, to delete it was somehow to concede to the truth of her words.  Thus, I did not take the high road and I simply continued to defend my innocent and light-hearted, non-malicious and non-threatening post.

As this embarrassingly continued, I did realize on several occasions, trying to win an argument with a paranoid psycho-crazy jealous chick was not a sane battle at all.  After all, I had reason and sanity on my side.  Whereas she, had paranoia and imagination on hers.  Not a good battle to participate in.  It’s much like taking a knife to a gun slinging show down.  Ya just don’t have all the right ammunition for this particular battle.

Finally, a mutual friend intervenes and reminds us how truly ridiculous this all is and we quiet down.  In addition, Red posts about all kinds of challenges she’s faced while dating my very well liked, sociable, and VERY friendly friend.  And I really feel bad. REALLY bad!  I had no idea that so many women had swarmed my buddy while he dated her.  And suddenly I felt compassion for her craziness and pondered the possibility that, like me at another point in my dating life, she had suffered enough insecurity and challenge in this relationship to possibly bring her to the brink of sanity.  Hell, I’ve been there, crossed into that world of sheer freakin’ madness, and finally returned, albeit forever altered as a human being,  carrying the mental and emotional scars that kind of relationship can create, if we allow them.

And I feel for her situation, her madness, and even her insane level of jealousy.  I see my post from another angle and although I still see it as completely faultless and truly innocent, I suddenly can understand how a mind already damaged from jealousy might see it and overreact.

Finally, L himself responds to this thread.  He comes to my defense about the sunscreen application, but in so doing, he inadvertently shows it as an intentional maneuver on his part.  It seems Red had applied sunscreen to a friend of his one day when  I wasn’t there and L was a bit jealous, so he asked me to apply it to him in front of Red.  I’m sure in an attempt to provoke the jealousy he already knew she had for my relationship with him.  Ughhh!  I’m a pawn in the chess game of their dysfunctional relationship!  And I feel used and dirty!

…And I feel even worse for Red, as this mean trick shows itself fully in the naked light of L’s inadvertent confession.  Poor Red.  No wonder she’s freakin crazy!!  He’s trying to make her that way!!  That rat bastard friend of mine!  As much as I love my friend (and I truly do), being a woman…being a woman who has been on the other end of these maddening games…a woman who always tried to rise above jealousy and jealousy games… I ultimately have to pick the side of the female on this one.  Every time.  Yeah, I have to have the chick’s back on this and call bullshit shenanigans.  Way too many passive aggressive men have instigated this garbage only to calmly sit back and laugh with friends about “some psycho chick”.  Fuck that!  No.  I want NO part of that crap. And I’ll not take being used like that kindly.  Oh HELL no!

I went to bat for Red in a conversation with L and told him in no uncertain terms that I did not approve or appreciate being put into that kind of passive aggressive meanness.  We women have it tough enough being in competition with the world for so many things:  Men, jobs, dating, looks, money, security, weight; God, it’s hard enough to be female in this damned world.  I will not go against a woman in the “make her look like a psycho crazy chick to feed my dull minded limp male ego” game! NUHHHH UHHHHH!

So I had drinks and conversation with L Friday night.  Told him I loved him to pieces but did not appreciate that garbage.  And then I had a three hour heart-to-heart with Red Saturday morning.  I like her.  I feel badly that I was ever put in that position, as I’m the least threat to her ever and that kind of jealousy toward my friends-only friendship with L was just unwarranted and a mean, mean trick.

Strangely enough, I’ve heard from a few people that Red actually is a “whack job” (yes, that’s a quote). And I’m a diehard for the underdog about these things because I still have to give her the benefit of the doubt until she shows her whacked self to me in a situation where I don’t happen to find out it was instigated by another’s sly maneuvers of insecurity.  I also realize these things usually come around to bite me in the ass in a very nasty way, but for the freakin’ jack ass guy who played similar shit-shenanigans on  me a few years back, I just hope at least one person he bragged about me being his psycho stalker (or whatever the hell lying ass phrase he used) might have stopped just for a moment to question before stitching that unfair and untrue label on me:  yeah, that looked kind of crazy, but what in the hell happened just before she responded that way?!  Damnnnn, that dude must have really fucked with that chick’s head….

Right.  So probably not.  It’s doubtful many people stop to ponder that far into things which have little to do with them.  They’re most likely just excited to seize a terrific piece of juicy gossip to make themselves feel superior about their own little miserable worlds.  So, evven though I can’t possibly know if these things ever do really come full circle into karmic justice, but hell, I have to do what I can to see that they do……..for all the “psycho stalker chicks” out there in the world!

This one might be nice...

Now, I just have to come up with the secret handshake for our club.  …Or maybe we can all just get machetes tatooed on our chest.

FB aka SNWMD (social networking weapon of mass destruction)

Saturday night I hit my local little neighborhood tavern for some live music, dancing, and social interaction. Walk in with my friend, S, and her husband. Not too busy here yet, but I’m happy to be among friends. S immediately sees another chick she knows. I don’t know said chick, but after they’re finished with their hello hugs, I smile and say “Hi”, reaching out my hand and introducing myself properly in that oh-look-we-have-a-mutual-friend friendly way. I can’t help but notice mutual friend chick happens to be a beautiful woman with vivid red hair…just gorgeous! Yay Chickie!

Ms. Chickie-poo instantly gives me a look. Eeeek… And I mean a look: a hateful, I wish I could shove you down a 500 foot razor blade slide and land you into a pool of rubbing alcohol kinda look. Whoaaaaa! I’m absolutely thrown…wtf? I don’t even know you lady…what is your problem here? Let me tell ya, it was NOT subtle in any way either. It was bold, blatant, and totally unapologetic. It was so horrendous, the nasty smell of sheer hate instantantly permeated around us; she had a look on her face which even resembled the twisted, painful look one might have were one trapped in an elevator full of horribly offensive gas. It happened so instantaneously and noticeably that even S stepped back a bit in surprise. Yeah…awwwwkwarrd!
I didn’t ask any questions. I’m not 9 anymore; I refuse to deal with these type of senseless things. Weird as hell? Ummm yeah. Do I really give a damn? Nahh. I just accept my fate-of-hate and go have a seat alone several feet away, giving the two their space to catch up, chat, hug, and whatnot. I’m certain I don’t know her at all and therefore, whatever the problem is, it is without a doubt, her problem and has nothing at all to actually do with me.

Few moments later, S comes to sit next to me and says, “wow..that was uncomfortable” Yeah, ya think? What’s her deal?

Apparently, I “know chickie-poo’s boyfriend”. Hmm…I do? Okay….I know lots of people…that could certainly be…but…umm….still, what the hell?

Yeah, it gets better… Not only do I apparently know Ms. Chickie-poo’s loverface, but I (brace yourself here people because all lines of morals, boundaries, and common decency are just about to get crossed, eliminated, skipped over, and possibly destroyed)…

I not only know loverface, but I (deep breath)…..……POSTED ON HIS FACEBOOK WALL!

And you know what? I really did! Yeah, I did this. I posted on her loverface’s wall. Yup, right there for all to see I typed four or five words essentially saying, hello, how are things with ya… RIGHT ON HIS FACEBOOK. I admit to this debauchery. Yes, I am a Facebook Whore. I confess I’m just wicked to the core like that. Mmmhhmm. Call the firing squad, grab the noose, gather the town folk, hold onto your husbands, brothers, computers, hooker stilettos…snatch your loved one’s password and quickly get to the business of friend editing. Go ahead and start embroidering those three scarlet red letters “FBW” too!

Because. I. Am. Guilty. As. Hell. Here.

Yeahhh….and you wanna know something else? I’m not even sorry. I don’t feel guilty. And yeah dammit, I’d do it again. I mean, I WILL do it again. Go ahead, pin those damned letters right on me. There’s no shame in my Facebook game. I post on people’s walls. I do it pretty much every day…sometimes several scandalous times a day even….yeah. And I’ve no intention of stopping. Beware: you (or worse yet your lova’face!) could be next!

So after this little “faux pas” of mine was explained to me via S, Chickie-poo proceeds back over to “chat” with S and me. And wow she was on a mission!  I lost count after like the 17th time she said “my boyfriend”. Umm, you know my boyfriend. Yeah, you posted on my bofriend’s facebook the other day. My boyfriend is over at the —– right now. I’m goin to call my boyfriend and tell him I met you……blah, blah, blah… I mean, she was making it cleeeee-year that she did indeed have a “boyfriend” and that he was, without a doubt, her possession. Okie dokie Chickie-poo! I’m not so big on the labeling thing, so it was pretty clear to me that not only was Ms. Chickie quite insecure, but she and I had some fundamental differences which might get directly in the way of she and I becoming BFF’s anytime soon. Awww…pity…

This lovely little incident came immediately following another FB incident only a day or so earlier in which another innocent FB post got me in “trouble”. I was recently accused of dating a friends’ ex-boyfriend…for the following three reasons: 1. Ran into boyfriend twice in one week (oops! But geesh it IS a small town!); 2. We re-united as FB friends (he didn’t make the cut of my last edit but it was nothing personal); and 3. I posted “great to run into you this weekend!” RIGHT ON HIS FACEBOOK PAGE!

Uh huh.

So my friend then “intelligently” deduced from this cryptic happenstance that we are “dating”. Yeah, this one’s a real Einstein/Sherlock to say the least. Maybe I shouldn’t mention a few key points, but I’m gonna anyway. 1. I’ve known her ex for many years before I knew her at all and didn’t want him then just like I don’t want him now; 2. She is pregnant and engaged to another man; and 3. My reasons for being (gasp!) TWICE in the same place as her ex had zilch to do with her ex man, but just so happened to be because “J” hangs out in the same little local spot…and yes, I WAS there hanging out with J…flirting shamelessly and for the most part totally unaware of any other males around me. Apparently she didn’t get that key part of the local gossip.

And again the irony is overwhelming. There I am, hanging out with Jane’s ex fiancé, really digging him and feeling (almost) guilty about that…at least too guilty to actually tell anyone ( and not even J!) that I’m secretly only there to hang out with J. Her ex coulda been right in my face and I’d not have given him the time of day. I was way preoccupied on both curiously coincidental run-ins with her ex… Too busy flirting with another friends’ ex…GOSH, I have some standards dammit…only one friend’s ex at a time, thank you. Facebook, on the other hand, I have no limits to the comments I might post and no boundaries as to said person’s relationship status. It’s freakin’ Facebook people, a social utility! As long as I’m not posting something like, Baby last night was the greatest!  Come do me again tonight, or some similar sleazy, telling post on your boyfriend’s wall(and trust me, I never would post such a thing – no matter the underlying circumstances!),  then do us all a favor and get over it before you make an ass out of yourself!

But this crazy ass girl with obviously way too much time on her hands is absolutely certain I’m dating her ex! She texts me: Guess you like my leftovers. I’m not stupid. Ohhh well, time to get rid of more backstabbing bitches… that’s secifically her very words!  Yeah, If it wasn’t so pathetic, it would be hysterically funny. No wait, I guess it IS still pretty damned funny!

I feel like a drama magnet! Sometimes I reflect on this kind of seemingly chronic irony and drama which is a sad, but apparently unavoidable, aspect of my life in small town Midwest. Does anyone else get so much bullshit on such a regular basis merely by their existence and/or their presence? I can’t imagine so… Does anyone else instigate this much freakin’ drama without any effort whatsoever? And I mean NO effort. These two men hold zero interest or intrigue for me. In fact, each of them has at several points in our respective long-term platonic friendships made attempts at initiating something beyond friendship, but I was never interested. Not to sound arrogant or anything, but these two particular men, I could have had at any given time in the past ten years or so. Therefore, I’m not these silly little girls’ rival. Girls, girls…I don’t want your men or your ex-men. Sweet, sweet, ignorant, insecure, little darlings, trust me, if I wanted either of them, I would have them already. I am no threat to you, okay?  Bless your little hearts!!

PSA: Everyone can turn loose of their husbands, ex-husbands boyfriends, ex-boyfriends, crushes, and might someday be crushes, your mailmen, your trainers, your brothers, and your kindergarten playground pals from days gone by; you can cease creeping all over my FB page doing amateur investigative work; I’m totally and unequivocally digging only one friend’s ex…and geesh am I digging him…Ohhh my stars!! Updates on that (yeah, my actual moral debauchery) soon to come…:)

And please allow me to offer you two and the other plethora of females out there like you a glorious priceless gift of wisdom which has been handed down for generations in my family.  And please, take notes because it’s highly likely that you’re not of the upper echelon of intellectual beings.

Jealousy is so vastly unattractive that you’d be better off to pack on an extra 100 pounds. And insecurity is like growing a quarter-sized hairy old wart smack dab on the end of your nose. They are senseless, ugly crosses to bear…put them down. I promise you, you’re not avoiding or defeating anything with these two ridiculous relationship- killing, character-telling notions. Let them go!

Homeless by design of the Rat Bastard

11.12.10

“I never want to see you again! If you know what’s good for me, you’ll leave me alone!” These are the words I screamed to someone who once was my hero. I thought he was caring, loving, considerate, and the best dad ever, but as he crumbles my heart with his bare hands, at the same time telling me that “it’s what’s best for me,” and causing tears of lies and betrayal to stain my face, realization finally sinks in; he is not my hero, but instead it’s the person who held me tight, stroking my hair, and telling me that everything was going to be alright, even though we both knew it wouldn’t be. Yes, my hero is indeed that person, and she happens to be my mom. I know, it sounds like a childish thing to say and that maybe by now I should have a more significant person to choose, but in my world, she is the most significant person who will ever walk into my life. (Written by LD for an 8th grade English assignment on “Who’s your hero?”)</em>

For three months we lived there. We trustingly packed every belonging we ever owned or cared about and moved 2,000 miles away from any friend or family member other than him. No, I didn’t have a job when we moved. Apparently, that wasn’t a huge issue to anyone except me…at least not in the beginning. Yet, moving into a very expensive rental house in a nice suburb of the city was beyond uncomfortable for me with no income at the onset. So, as the months passed and I wasn’t finding work, my patience for this situation grew as thin as a balloon stretched beyond its capacity, actually about to the point where if one might simply brush against the damned thing it would POP! Yeah…not a good scenario…

The first week of my daughters’ school, after dropping them off, I was rear-ended by another car. This shook me up, but I blew it off with some deep breathing and soaking in a hot bath for a few evenings afterward. The guy was honest, saying, “You know, I just wasn’t paying attention. I’m really sorry.” No worries, I said as I checked out the damage to my car. It was minimal, so I said, Hey, let’s just forget about it. The distracted, but kind gentleman responded, “Thank you! That’s very nice of you. I’m really sorry.”

Yeah, seriously, no worries…the car was still drivable and that’s what mattered most to me – that I had a car to drive my children to and from school in a still-strange city, and 30 miles back and forth to cheer practice five evenings a week, and a method by which to get to my job (once I found one). No big deal. Accidents happen. How many times have I driven along not paying any attention anyway? Ummm more than I want to admit! Have a great day and take care!

Prior, during, and after this rear-end episode, my ex was being beyond a douche bag. Insulting, belittling, and worst of all entirely apathetic to any of my concerns or worries about our daughters. My youngest was typically crying for at least an hour after every visit with dad. This was particularly bad on cheer practice days when he criticized her no matter how hard she was trying to learn a sport she had just started a few weeks after moving here; several years behind the other girls on the team whom he regularly “compared” her against publicly and privately.   I was so proud of her resolve. He would insult her and she’d come home, cry for a while and then the very next day she would say to me smiling big and confidently, “I’m so excited for cheer tonight Momma…I’m going to try even harder today so Daddy won’t have to yell at me.” This scenario was repeated regularly.

Meanwhile, “Daddy” was constantly reminding me how expensive cheer was for our two girls… and I do mean constantly. I was already losing sleep over even utilizing the standard utilities: saving electricity and gas like a monstrously concerned environmental-freak; afraid to use the pool, afraid to dry our clothes in the dryer, and conserving water like we were ship-wrecked bordering on death by dehydration… Sure, living in a big beautiful home was nice, but not really appropriate under my financial circumstances. I tried to let go of the resentment that we were living under this kind of stress in spite of the fact that the three of us had wanted to stay with the “Daddy” until I found a job and could afford to live independently with the children.

OH yeah and we didn’t live alone…there were the roaches. They made their presence known about a month after we moved in. I brought this up to the Daddy who laughed and called them the “702 bugs”; who also assured me he would talk to his “guy” to see if we could get a better monthly price for pest control than the several places I called for quotes. By the way, roaches really DO multiply faster than rabbits! Within two months of living there, they had taken over our “beautiful” home. My daughters were often too freaked out at bedtime to sleep and we had nightly episodes of them running to me fearful that roaches would crawl over them if they fell asleep. If you could have seen how badly they infested, you’d understand that this wasn’t necessarily an irrational fear of theirs. I slowly became more and more disgusted to even eat in this house, but finances surely didn’t allow us to eat out either. I never mentioned my eating fears to the children. After the third or fourth “rough” night we had with them terrified to go to sleep at night and crying hysterically over roaches EVERY where, I finally called the “’Daddy” again. Ahhhh….It was okay; he just hadn’t yet had time to phone his “guy”. He would, though.

I swear these damned bugs multiplied before our very eyes. This situation escalated at a rate that I could never have imagined in my worst creepy-crawly nightmares. They were in our toilets, our food pantry, our living room, our bathtubs, our patio, our furniture, our clothing… I cannot stress how horrible this became or how quickly it worsened. It broke my heart to feel so helpless to resolve this when it went from an occasional fear to a daily struggle and the only relief my children had was the occasional nights at their dad’s, which of course, was beautifully (and entirely) roach free. In my desperation and after numerous (the number for this is truly embarrassing) calls and texts to the ex; pleading with him to help, I began to imagine scenarios where I would phone all the pest control services and offer up sex in exchange for roach control. Putting aside any pride I might have ever had in me, I contemplated how one goes about offering that kind of thing without the possibility of getting arrested. No, I’m not kidding. These were the thoughts that began to consume my mind.

Sum this all up with the chronically terrifying financial fears of stressing literally every single solitary CENT, not finding any work, and the ugly manipulative insults and/or absolute disregard my children and I were learning was just to be a part of our new lives, now add a second random car accident. Sadly though, this one totaled my car.

This time, dude in an SUV makes a left turn on a two-way street (not at an intersection) right into the driver’s side of my car, as if my car was actually invisible! BAM! He slams directly into me, forming my car into a near 90-degree angle! The car was never to be drivable again. We were literally lucky to have survived the accident.

I had no one to call to drive us home from this accident…not a single soul within a 2,000 mile radius who might come to pick up my children and me…except the “Daddy”. After nine desperate phone calls, six frantic texts (not to mention how many the children must have sent) and over an hour of time passing sitting in a demolished car the “Daddy” finally texts, yes, TEXTS, “is everything ok?” Ummm….NO..it’s NOT… That would be why your children and your ex are blowing up your phone in the middle of the afternoon with calls and texts, you self-consumed idiot.

But yeah, he finally arrived.  I was hysterical at that point and more than a tad irritated at his nonchalance to our desperation. When I hinted at this, he was quick to remind me that I had no right; that I should just be grateful that he even came for us at all; after all, he’s a busy, important man who doesn’t have the time to be dealing with his ex’s little traumatic crises.

And right here is when the true, deep terror of our situation hit me fully. Under his designed choices  and reassurances surrounding our move here, along with my failed attempts to get a job and secure any income of my own, I WE were completely and totally under his tyrannical control and at his mercy, which I stupidly had been under before and that had not turned out pretty by any means.

So, by his grace alone, he drove us directly to a car rental place to rent a car for the duration of the insurance to take over (not my insurance, you silly goose….I had no insurance. I had had to let that lapse almost immediately after moving. The at-fault driver did have insurance thank God!). And now we add in the(up-front) cost of this rental car until the insurance company reimbursed him and the insurance on said rental car which provided me the means to drive my children around at our assumed daily frantic pace and the ability to continue looking for work… to the rest of the story, the stress, the mass discomfort, the verbal and emotional abuse we were enduring, the roaches, the crying bouts of my children over their dad’s chronic public put-downs and the fear of sleeping or eating at our own house.

The straw that broke the camel’s back though,  was when my 11 year-old mentioned that she liked Daddy’s girlfriend okay, but that since we hadn’t lived here for long yet, she really wished she could have some daddy-daughter time just once in a while. Given that this WAS the reason we moved here and this “girlfriend” was only a few weeks into the situation, I did not hesitate to reassure my daughter that it was okay to discuss her feelings and wishes about that with her father; that she had every right to request occasional “Daddy” time minus the girlfriend. I told her I was certain he would want to know that she felt that way, would very much care and would honor and respect her wishes, since they certainly were not at all unreasonable. And strangely, I really believed this. Never imagined it would even cause a hiccup.

Please bear in mind that “Daddy” told us on the way in from the airport at our arrival, how he had been crying in his office earlier that morning because he was so overwhelmed with happiness that his children would finally after all these years be close at hand, close enough to have a regular relationship with on a daily/weekly basis. He had cried so hard he needed a tissue, but didn’t have any and had even “had to” buzz his secretary to bring him some tissue. And secretary was just, “awwwwwww… it’s so beautiful how much you love your children…you must be the greatest dad ever!” I hate to demonstrate my inner cynic at this touching, Hallmark card episode, but I know this man’s theatrics and I was silently disgusted that he was clearly making such a dramatic show about our move. Anything to present himself as the hero-Dad! Anything to make the whole thing all about him…having little, to nothing, to actually do with his children or being a dad. I suppressed those past-influenced thoughts at his story and convinced myself he might have really been being genuine here…after all, he’d been a great dad for 10 years from 2,000 miles away…hadn’t he?

So I encouraged my child to discuss her feelings honestly with her dad, assuring her that he would not be angry and that I knew he would respect her feelings and make some of their limited time together just daddy-daughter time. I told her that I thought he would even feel extra special to know how much time having time with him really did mean to her.

No. Although she’s the overly criticized child, fearful of upsetting her father or disappointing him more than she already did daily by just being her own, wonderful but imperfect of course, self, she braved this conversation! And he didn’t even acknowledge that she had spoken. He ignored her completely although she knew for certain he had heard her speaking. She waited a few days and hesitantly mentioned it again, Daddy, I like (insert name of girlfriend here), but could we see you once in a while just the three of us? Maybe have an hour with you to ourselves? He responded with an adamant and vehement, I’m not breaking up with (insert name of girlfriend here) for you.

My daughter did not understand. She hadn’t asked him to “break up with his girlfriend” at all. She did understand, however, that her wishes not only would not be granted, but that her father had no interest whatsoever in her wishes.

Which, I do understand. After all what I’ve failed to mention here is that this wasn’t just any girlfriend in his long list of failed relationships, this was a rock stars’ ex-girlfriend! I mean, really, of course nurturing that relationship was to come before time with the little girl who gave up all her kindergarten friends, her happy roach-free home, her beloved school, all her other relatives, and her peaceful, happy-go-lucky mother! GOSH…there were priorities here people! Because having your dream job of big power, absolute financial security, an obnoxiously extravagant home, all of your childhood friends and relatives close at hand, you ex-wife under your total control, and (finally!) your two children too, could never be satisfying enough. You have not actually “arrived” in life until you have the ultimate ego-inflating status of dating a “rock stars’ ex-girlfriend”…and that delicate factor of this complicated equation must, without question or hesitation, then be put above all, since without that part of it, you’re still just not totally convinced that you are absolutely and unequivocally THE man.

You all understand, right?

Yeah, me too because here is where I snapped. And I mean snapped. Enough. No more attempting to reason with this man. No more making up flimsy-ass excuses for him that my children weren’t buying anyway. I merely shoved aside 10,000 roaches to sit on my formerly comfy (and sanitary)sofa, phoned up the ex and said, I think it’s best we go back home. This just doesn’t seem to be working out for anyone except you, on any acceptable level. To which he responded by screaming, I don’t care what you do! You have 30 and I repeat THIRTY days to get your ass back there or I’m renting out the Michigan house and I’m not helping you one bit to get back there either. And I’m canceling the rental car immediately so you’d better find a way to pay for a rental car on your own.

And here is what we did (had to do): we left everything we’ve ever owned, packed one small suitcase of clothing each and our cat, and used the insurance money from my totaled car to drive back to Michigan in order to save our home. Even my daughters with all their beautiful things and all our precious life-time mementos chose to give all that up to go home and live in our safe, peaceful house, in our safe peaceful small mid-western neighborhood far away from the “Daddy”.

We drove for three days, making it a fun family adventure. Laughing through our sadness and our fears, giggling as much as possible, and talking about how we still had all that really mattered in life: love, peace, respect, our beloved home, and each other. The rest was just stuff and stuff could be replaced…slowly in time, we’d get more furniture, ipods, televisions, computers, clothing, family pictures, etc, etc, etc… Good God, I have the most amazing children!!

And after three days on the road, we finally reached our destination…HOME, SWEET, SAFE, HOME… to discover another family had already moved into our house.

My next conversation with the ex went something like this (and this is obviously a mere excerpt):

Me: the roaches really were unbearable and disgusting and you didn’t care at all how horrifying and unsanitary that was for us.

Douche Bag: Ask me why I didn’t do anything about the roaches.

Me:(genuinely confused) What?

Douche Bag( a tad louder this time): Ask me why I didn’t do anything about the roaches!

Me: (now confused AND irritated at his tone) Ummm…huh?

Douche Bag( full-fledged yelling now): ASK ME WHY I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING ABOUT THE ROACHES!!

Me: Umm…okay, why didn’t you do anything about the roaches?

Douche Bag: Well, you didn’t seem to mind living with them, so why would *I* care if you did?

Prison matters and obligatory BJ’s

Yeah, I threw it...

 I have a rule never to say, well at least it can’t get any worse.  We’ve all experienced the Universal sense of humor which rolls like an electric current of torturous laughter at our expense through our worlds; the tempting of the fates’ massive ego and uncanny ability to demonstrate, Really?  It can’t huh?  Ohhhh but it  can…..and now that you’ve thrown that gauntlet-of-life-yuk right out there in our path, let us show you… 

For the love of Pete, I know better…or at least I certainly should know better! 

Zeppelin, the “cool dude, single dad, with a great love of (my kinda) music “: 

I am early to the little bar he suggests we meet at.  No, no kudos to me for this lovely effort at punctuality.  I was bored out of my mind and didn’t know where I was going, so I got ready way too early for this date and left with enough time to  get lost for an hour and still be safely on time.  See?  There’s no sense of punctuality in me.  I only have two arrival times: 1. annoyingly early and 2. offensively late.  Thus,  I was annoying early for this one.  He was a forgivable-few minutes late.  Not a bad start. 

I wasn’t overly impressed when he entered the darkened empty sports bar, but I was far from repulsed either.  Zep is a decent average looking guy; a tad shorter than I expected, but not quite to “deal breaker”.  All is good. 

It’s the middle of a Sunday afternoon in an off the strip bar in Vegas, only the staff and Zep and I are there.  That’s kinda cool!   Conversation begins easily and flows at a regular pace.  Within minutes I realize Zep’s a better talker than listener, but this isn’t obnoxious or anything.  I am good at both, so I slip into full listening mode and take it all in.  he orders a shot of Jagermeister and a beer.  

Zeps ex-wife calls it home

Zep is a full-time single dad.  Awwwwwww…He has full custody of his 10-year-old son.  I’m impressed with this.  He explains to me how his ex-wife is in prison for embezzlement to the tune of somewhere around 100k.  I’m delighted that this little boy had a father who not only could stay out of prison, but could actually step up to the plate while his mom does her time.  Zep is appropriately upset about this, but his relief seems even more apparent.  He repeatedly expresses his gratitude that she did this crime after they divorced and while she was re-married to another “loser”.  Otherwise, he realizes how difficult it would have been to prove his lack of involvement.  This is unsettling, but I merely nod, gasp, and mmmmhmmm appropriately and sympathetically, up my listening volume, and turn my talking knob further to the left…  I don’t want to miss any of this good stuff!  He orders another shot of Jagermeister to complement his beer and ease this difficult topic of discussion. 

No worries pal...knock yourself out!

After he discusses the absent mother, the help his parents offer him with daycare, and the ex’s idiot new husband, he asks if I will be offended if he goes out to his car to take a hit.  What?  Is the mob after you and your son?  Aren’t you afraid to go out into an empty parking lot?  Oh you mean hit that illegal drug, marijuana?  Ahhh well, that’s different…  By all means!  I might have been a tad upset with this except, Zep, as he’s walking to the door, throws me this reassurance, “Hey!  Don’t worry…I’m not going to ditch and leave you with my bill!” 

Ahhh….the wave of relief alone could have knocked me over!  After all that was my concern right then.  Although the possibility has never occurred to me prior,  I now  realize how fortunate I am that my date is just going out to his car to smoke pot, not making an attempt to go down in a mob-hit, or ditch me with his food and drink bill!  I must remember this for future dates. 

Zep returns a few moments later.  Orders another shot of Jagermeister and begins telling me how he’s just ended a relationship.  No worries, it’s for the best.  She was an unemployed drunk.  She had nothing to do all day except drink.  It was helpful with things like getting the boy to and from school (ummm..WHAT???!??? ) while he was working and such, but she would just too often start drinking during their lunch meetings.  Too drunk to date, but helpful as a taxi-driver for your child?  Ahhh..okay..well at least your priorities are straight Zep!

On top of that fatal flaw, she didn’t dress appropriately in front of the boy.  They would all go swimming, she would throw on a white t-shirt over her suit after their swims, and then dare to enter the air-conditioned house with his horny 10-year-old boy in the midst!  Geesh..that was just wrong and she should have known better.  Any 10-year-old boy is going to make comments about her breasts under those circumstances and attempt to constantly “wrestle”  with her.  He’s ten, you know?!  Really?   I guess I never would have realized this….   Sorta feeling “icky” about all the 10-year-old-boys I’ve unknowingly turned on, when I really shoulda known better….

He orders another shot of Jagermeister.  Would I like one?   Ummm yeah I actually would to dull the pain of this date   …No thank you.  I have to drive home  NOW ….ummm… in a bit. 

Starting with his possibly over-sexualized 10-year-old son and how the girlfriend was just too sexy for the boy to handle, Zep then starts talking sex; his sex.  How much he likes it; how the wife and the ex girlfriend stopped giving it to him with the frequency which he required; and how after being dumped by his wife, he got out in Vegas a bit and realized how attractive and sexually wanted he really was.  Chicks dig him…he could get it anywhere and here he’d actually been faithful to his relationship, letting her dictate the unsatisfactory sexual pace.  He had been an idiot! 

Umm….do you mind if I run out to my car for another sec, Kay?  No problem Zep…as long as you’re not stiffing me with your bill (wink)(wink) 

Wink-wink

Ahhhh return and  Anther short of Jager please”….you sure you don’t want one?  Yes, please give me 4 to catch up    No, thanks, I really have to get going very soon. 

Now Zep starts to tell me how much he enjoys random blowjobs.  He doesn’t want to have to skip a day of those.  He doesn’t have to, you know?  Plenty of chicks want some of that action…blah, blah, blah… 

Maybe it was the plethora of uncomfortable conversational topics  up till this point, maybe it was the  three-2-in-the-afternoon-Coronas on an empty stomach (I declined any lunch), maybe it wass my well hidden mean streak or my current frustration with games and men in general….?  I really can not know what came over me, but gosh, I suddenly felt torturously audacious and tantalizingly brazen, having already classified this guy into the not gonna date again category, I decide to have a little fun before I leave.  I know…it’s not very nice, but I gotta turn this around and make it interesting somehow, so let the fun begin! 

What? Sometimes bananas aren't in season...

I’m very, VERY sympathetic about the blow job speech. Of course he should not have to live without having those whenever and wherever he wants!  And although I had said very little up till this point, I decide it’s time to tell him a little “about me” before our time is over. 

Zep, it seems you need to find the right girl; the kind of girl who enjoys giving blow jobs…  I don’t understand these other orally selfish women!  Heck, I used to argue with my ex husband because he wouldn’t let me do that

Is this wrong?

enough! Always scared of getting caught at his work or in the restaurant and whatnot.  Geesh! What a freak!  I mean,  sometimes you’re in the car driving to dinner and the mood is just right for that bj-on-the-road, there’s the bye-bye-have-a nice-day-at-work-bj, there’s the QUICK!-the-kids are-in-the-next-room-bj, there’s the dinner’s-on-the-table-but-pretty-please-let-me-blow-you-first-bj, the dessert-bj (duhhh), the foreplay-bj, the post-coital-bj, the can-i-blow-you-while-you-shower-before-work-bj, the I-want-to-tell-you-how-much-I-love-you-but-I-cant-say-the-words-bj, and of course, my favorite of them all, the I-must-worship-your-manhood-daily-bjWhat? Why are these so wrong? 

Maybe it's just an oral fixation I suffer from?

And I become indignant, I mean, gosh, what’s the matter with this Zep?  Sometimes a bj solves everything and it’s just all that is appropriate at that moment.  Is there something wrong with me that I am so compelled to give constant bj’s?  I embellish further in an attempt to gain his sympathy for my previous plight:  Sometimes my ex kinda made me feel weird about this and I might be a little damaged from that. (Sniffle..sniffle) I’m just a girl who likes to give bj’s…so call me Betty and blister my butt, right?  Shoot me and hang me out to dry!  I should be totally free to express myself in this manner whenever I please.  Don’t you agree?  This does not make me trampy or slutty!!  Any normal girl wants to worship her man’s manhood…or at least should want to…GEESH! 

Believe it or not, this confession of mine, leads Zep into discussing my nipples.  In Zep’s defense, no, I’m not wearing a bra and the air conditioning was on high, not that that ever makes a difference.  …And yes, my nipples are much worshipped and could spark the greenest of envy in any Playmate of the month.  Sorry…it just is what it is.  I’m just grateful the horny-10-year-old-boy isn’t around though…how inappropriate!  In fact between my deep reluctance to wear bras except when it’s absolutely unavoidable, my chronically inappropriately sexy and overly eager nipples, and Vegas air conditioning, it’s pretty clear we are not a match. Awwww… the travesty of our sad fate…! 

Ummm…  No I didn’t say that part about the travesty of our fate! Psh…  C’mon?!!? 

Instead, I say, Ummmm, I’m so sorry Zep, but I’m really uncomfortable talking about my nipples with you.  I hardly know you and I think this is an inappropriate topic for first-date conversation. 

Sing it for me, Rob!

Clearly bewildered at my suddenly prudish stance, poor Zep apologizes.  And I said, “No worries. I’m not mad or anything, just setting some healthy boundaries. Anyway, I have to go.  Nice to meet you! Thanks for not ditching me with the bill! 

 …And she’s buyyyyyyinggggg the sta-air-way…..to heaaaaaaven.

Zeppelin, HD1-2, and head-spinning madness

I’ve been enjoying a couple of kinda fun  email exchanges and text-servations this past week, in spite of all that other M-whatnot and whatnot…   

Zep: cool snowboarder/surfer dude, exactly my age who shares a love of Led Zeppelin and classic rock in general with me…  fun, cool conversations…appears attractive in his photos, has a child and seems to understand and share my priorities as well… Good stuff!  We are meeting tomorrow for some drinks and Zeppelin.  I’m actually a bit excited to see what he’s like in person!   

Not so sure about these two dudes...hmm...

HD dudes:  hmm…..?  I am emailing/texting with two HD motorcycle guys. (HD1 and HD2?)  Both seem pretty cool.  I get borderline vibes from one and semi-borderline vibes from the other, but quite honestly, I have to re-check their profiles out to remember which is which, as they are fairly similar and I’ve no plans to meet either yet.  Although the one that seems “better” (for whatever reason?!) has invited me several times on a ride.  I very much want to go soon, but haven’t been able to squeeze that in just yet.   

...back to just mystified...

  Two (or three?) OMGWTF moments:   

  M started texting me Friday night as I was leaving with kids for a festival.  Yada, yada, yada….another lengthy and frequently misunderstood communiqué with M via text (sighhhhhhh…) These are truly getting so redundant and lengthy that I don’t even want to bore anyone by posting them anymore.    

Summary:  M says he’s back home and having drinks at the pub and hopes I have a nice weekend.  I say good for you; wish I could join you.  He says I don’t wish I could because he is too “busy and defensive”…    

WTF?!

(GAWD that makes me mad!  Don’t isolate something and act like it stands in a vacuum void of everything else I took the time and patience to text and/or email!  It makes me feel like I’m wasting every moment even bothering to try to “discuss” something with him…ughh!)   

I reassure him I do wish that because I like him and that I feel confident he knows I do as well, so I’m not going to explain it all again in a freakin’ text.  OMG…   

He explains how all this travelling isn’t his “usual” schedule and how his daughter needs him a lot right now and he does need someone who understands that.   

Umm…okay…I understand that.  To a point….  And then, I merely understand that while I might be able and willing to deal well with those things, when we add the defense mechanisms and “proving” his whereabouts, and not having much time with him (for whatever the reason is), it’s just too much for me and doesn’t balance out in the big picture.   

But dammit… I like him.  Geesh…  Wtf?!     

So…since my car was left in his neck of the woods, I suggested we not have another text (OMG….I can’t/won’t do it anymore…ughh) session and instead I stop over to actually discuss all that can’t be conveyed via a freakin text-servation….  So, I did… and I stayed.  And we laughed and talked and just hung out innocently.  I told him about my Hoover Dam date and the sleeping pills. He was whiney that I’m dating other people while he gives me his every spare moment and hasn’t once seen anyone else since he started seeing me.  Yeah, shut the front door, I said…I do not want to hear it! Blah, blah, blah…   

Yeah..so it's not this...unfortunately!

  And dammit, I like him.  It’s not some hot and heavy passionate thing either, I just like being around him.  I’m almost wishing it was some crazy wild sexual attraction thing…I could understand and deal with that.   In fact, no sex at all has happened in a while….that part is just not really all that intriguing to me(and has created a whole separate phenomenon which I’ll share in another post someday).  Overall, although I like being around him a lot, I’m just not all that interested in the sexual aspect and M’s flirty and suggestive about sex, but doesn’t push it at all either; which I like about being with him too.   This, this whatever-the-hell-this-is, I just freakin do not know wtf is going on?!   

And then I left in the morning with him saying let’s go to a movie this afternoon.  (I said maybe but then later remembered I couldn’t…)  I smile for a while and feel pretty good about the M thing…whatever it is, it does make me smile sometimes!   

And after being home and away from him for a few hours of being away, I have only two chronic and troublesome thoughts:  1. DAYUMM, my ex boyfriends’ new “girlfriend” is one lucky chick…  And I kinda want to hate her for that…  but I just can’t…  sighhhhh…   

And 2.  WTF is M ‘s freakin deal anyway?  More importantly, does it even matter what I decide to do?  It just sort of seems to have a whole life of its own anyway.  Perhaps instead of making any choices, judgments, or decisions at all, I’m just better off to flow with the current, whatever that current is, whenever it flows…?  Hmmm…..   

Ohhhhhhhh myyyyyyyyy  GAWWWDDD, as I was just finishing up typing this post (yesterday afternoon), M texted me some garbage about how he doesn’t know what he wants, but he doesn’t want a relationship right now or to waste my time and he hopes we can be friends!    

Photo via Johnny-Depp.org

...what M looks like in my mind now...truly MAD!

 OMFGOMFGOMFGOMFG    ….is this shit for REAL??? Well, the friends thing has clearly been decided because now this has become a game of epic proportion!  I was shocked and befuddled..WTF??!!  So I text back, ummmm…wow..this is the craziest, most childish game I’ve ever dealt with, I wonder if he has some bi-polar issues and I don’t  bother  with having “friends” who just flip my head around seemingly for the fun of it alone; there’s really no room for game playing in my friend-arena, I do not know WTF he is talking about, and I wish him the best, as this now is just too fucked up across the board.  

 Here is where it gets truly EPIC:  M texts back that he’s offended by this.  (Reiterates yet AGAIN that) he hasn’t been seeing anyone else since he met me, and that he just didn’t want to waste my time, but is sincerely offering me his friendship………  

 Umm….I really, REALLY hesitate to ever call anyone “crazy”.  Anyone who reads my blog knows my feelings about that overly used and mistaken label.  BUT, I really am starting to think it applies here!! M is one crazy fucker! 

  Seriously pal, REALLY?  YOU’RE fucking offended?  You pull all this random weird nonsensical crap and YOU’RE fucking offended??????  Umm, I learned that tactic in Psych 101 my freshman year of college pal.  Yeah, you’re offended…  So, I say, I’m not the one playing stupid games, you’ve no right to be offended in the slightest (you freak..no I didn’t actually call him that but I certainly implied it).  I say I don’t know why he keeps telling me he’s not seeing anyone else when I keep telling him that I AM dating other people.  In fact, I have a date for Sunday even…..but what does that have to do with anything?  WTF are you even talking about here pal?  You’re making zero sense and I’m to the point of not making any more excuses for his sporadic and strange behavioral whims anymore.  It’s. Just. Fucked. Up. And sadly, way too fucked up to carry on as friends now (which for GAWD’S sake is pretty much what we were doing anyway in my opinion…mostly).   

I mean NO KIDDING – WTF IS THIS SHIT ANYWAY?   (No I didn’t text that either, but you know, pretty much in so many words).  M actually texts me back “not to text him ever again”.   

ARE YOU FREAKIN KIDDIN’ ME??!  HE IS TOTALLY FUCKED UP… And I’m so irritated at him by this crazy-ass point, that I text back ANYWAY (merely because he told me not to..and anyway at this point, I truly could just care less wtf this man wants, needs, or thinks about me or anything at all..hehe). I text, “No problem.  Your game.Your rules. You win.”

Bye-byeeeeee! 

But (forcing myself back to the important stuff here), I get to have drinks and Zeppelin with a new guy today!  Let’s just hope he’s even half as cool as he seems! Hell, after this ridiculous effed-up M-crap, as long as he doesn’t suffer from bi-polar schizophrenic disorder, there’s no way he can’t at least be a refreshing change from this amazingly disturbing, fucked-up garbage with M!   

Part II: Or how my state of bliss was interrupted in spite of my BEST efforts…OMG!

 …So having now offered a background into my nature it’s much easier for me to explain why I chose to end my relationship with M – a man I like, I respect, and I enjoy immensely.  Yeah, I’m bummed a little and my curiosity and inquisitive side is definitely nagging at me to investigate further…

And that’s exactly why I know I’ve made the right choice to end it.

It’s complicated to describe and yet so simple at the same time.

I’ve had a few conversations with M, delicately and respectfully attempting to just get enough information to make a reasonable decision about this confusion with him.  It started after the first date he cancelled (and nearly didn’t tell me).  Yeah, I understand things happen.  I also understand the premise behind “he’s just not that into you”.  Truly, I’m naïve, I’m trusting, but I promise I’m really not ignorant.  I see the possibilities.  I probably see far too many actually and I’m willing to entertain any of them  at this point in my M-relationship.  I mean, I’m still getting to know him..anything is possible.  In addition, I’m not emotionally invested, so denial (or preservation of my heart or pride) is just not necessary at this point.  Sure, I’d like to think he likes me and I see many indications that he does, but if not..whatever.

However, the trouble started after this near blow-off when I questioned whether M was liking me or wasn’t so much into me….  Honest and straight forward; totally willing to face and handle whatever his answer was.  Really, I only asked even because I wouldn’t want anyone to feel obligated to me in any way…ughhh..  that’s not a pleasant feeling.  Suffice to say, I was okay with whatever the sitch was here. 

..but M….OMG…M turned into Mr. DEFENSE after this ONE innocent question.  He started sending me pictures “proving” his whereabouts and activities.  Like, a picture of his car dashboard with a text saying, just so you know I really AM driving right now.

WHAT. THE F*$k????  Really?  Are you freakin’ kidding me?  Let me recall where I’ve once doubted your veracity ……..Ummm…..hmmmmmm??

OH WAIT…I haven’t..not once…nope..not a single time.  Well, okay, one time I thought I saw him when he was out of town, but I concluded all on my own that it wasn’t him.  I never asked him about it or thought much about it even after the initial “sighting”.  There just was no reason whatsoever that he would have needed to lie about something so silly…so I admit, I pondered for a bit, determined it wasn’t him, and went on as usual. (By the way, I still believe it wasn’t him too, but merely an uncanny resemblance.)

Therefore, this ridiculous “proving” of his whereabouts and activities has become just plain annoying and inappropriately defensive.  The first few times he did this, I laughed it off, reassured him repeatedly, and just let it go as perhaps a lingering trust issue from his previous marriage filtering down onto his current perspective.  We all carry some issues like this, so I was willing to offer reassurance to let him know I wasn’t questioning him at all, except maybe whether or not he was really “into me”. Which I asked one time only, believed his response,  and let that go too.   Again, I mean, why would he lie about liking me if he doesn’t?  I wasn’t pressuring him or making demands, I was offering him an easy out if this was the case.  Why would I doubt that?

But this other crap, this I really AM here or doing this or that or whatever, just so you know CRAP was really starting to get on my nerves.  Listen pal, I’m not some psycho suspicious, insecure chick interrogating you or even questioning you.  So let it GO already.  No.  M would not let it go and he continued to pull this crap. 

The catch-22 about this, is that the more I received this unrequested and unnecessary “proof”, the more I’ve started to question the things I wasn’t even questioning in the first place!  Reminder:  my only questions about this relationship AT ALL were 1.  Was he struggling to get past his divorce and still having strong feelings for his ex-wife, which might explain his seeming and occasional lack of interest in me from my perspective?  (BTW, I never once actually asked him about that.)  or 2.  Was he just not that  into me?  No crime in that…  He either is or isn’t.  I’m not devastated either way.

So this defensive garbage was just out of the blue and he was pounding me with it regularly all of a sudden. For no reason at all!

Maddening?  Yeah..you bet!  I don’t enjoy feeling like I have to reassure him that I believe him when I’ve not even entertained such questions in the first place!

I went along with this for a few weeks, assuming it was a past issue and after a few reassurance sessions, he’d get past that and stop treating me like some psycho chick. To be totally honest, this whole process alone was making me start to feel mistrust and question his random defensive tactics.  The very thing he was already trying to quell…he was, instead, creating.  And I did not like it one bit.

So yesterday, after thinking it over a little, I just decided this is what I don’t want to get snared into.  This isn’t me.  I don’t know why he’s doing this and I clearly can’t simply ask because then that might actually give him a reason to be defensive and thus, continue this maddening behavior.  I’m not that girl.  I refuse to be.  This situation gave me no other option but to end it.

So I text him that I really feel there’s an imbalance of some sort going on, that it was making me increasingly uncomfortable.  I was sorry he misunderstood me so much to think I mistrusted his every move and word.  That I liked him, but this seemed to just not be working and with his overly defensive actions, I didn’t even feel comfortable trying to get to the bottom of it all or communicate about it openly.  Wish you the best…sorry it didn’t work out…blah, blah blah…

And guess what?  I receive a response message with a picture of him at the Canadian airport and a message saying, It’s 7 AM in Toronto.  I’ve been here since Tuesday.  Drove back from Phx Monday. The finger is pointing at my blue shirt.  Ok, (Kay) I guess it’s getting weird for me now too.

WTF??!!  Are you kidding ME???!??  Now, that’s it.  Truly..that’s just it.  I respond, Listen M, I’m not having yet another lengthy conversation via text.  It’s just silly under the circumstances.  So I’ll email you.

And I email him that I just don’t understand his defensiveness given my lack of questioning OR suspicions, but that it has boxed me in to a place where I feel I can’t ask anything at all and that goes against my nature and makes things seem strange which I otherwise wasn’t even wondering about. SO what I know for a fact is that he’s gone over 95% of the time and our actual communication gets less and less.  Being that my whole point of meeting anyone was to have a person to spend time with in a strange city with all kinds of extra time I’m not accustomed to having, that whatever the reasons were or weren’t behind all this strangeness, the relationship wasn’t meeting my needs on any level…and was quickly getting to the point of frustrating and just flat-out ridiculous given the totally casual nature of the whole thing in the first place.  Period. The end.  Again, I like you and wish you the best in finding whatever it is you’re looking for…So given the facts alone (because I’m not presumptuous by nature), I’m going to chalk this one up to bad timing. Good luck, take care, etc, etc, etc…

And a few minutes later, I receive this text (minus any “proof” photos thank GAWD)” Re: Email:  I’m not going to try to explain as that apparently is defensive…that’s how it looks.  You’re a great woman and I wish you the best. M

OMFG….  Now, I seriously never want to communicate with M EVER again.  The freak is even defensive about BEING DEFENSIVE.  He’s clueless and is clearly having an entire relationship in his own mind that bears zero resemblance to what’s actually even happening, being said OR being THOUGHT.  Yeah, this is the type of shit that makes a calm, peaceful trusting person get PSYCHO.  NONE of it adds up and EVERYTHING I say or explain merely is another accusation I’m NOT EVEN THINKING.    OMG!!!

That’s an effed up situation and my inner peace has been disrupted too often and way too much at this point for what the relationship was actually providing.

Bye-Bye Now.  And good riddance!

Proof that most men can NOT handle a healthy, balanced woman, healthy open communication, or a relationship with casual expectations. 

WTF?!  I am too irritated to even DATE now.  I let this freakin insanity go on way too long beyond my personal comfort zone.  And I am PISSED that I allowed myself to get sucked in to the whole stupid and unnecessary thing.

ARGHHHH UGHHHH ARGHHH.  Stupid men better just steer clear until I process through this utter STUPIDITY and get to the place of blissful relief that I finally just refused to deal with any of it and ended the whole stupid thing.

The *real* problem with SATC

Last night I had to deal with some pretty tough Mom-stuff.  I have the greatest daughters ever, so this isn’t a common theme in my life…thankfully!

My oldest daughter is breathtakingly beautiful, sweet, kind, and intelligent…and she’s also shy and struggling to make friends.  I know at her tender age, having friends means everything.  One would rather have friends at this point in her life than eat or sleep.  It’s absolutely vital to life itself. I get that.  Dealing with this brought me to reflect deeply on the issue of friends and friendship.

In short, the issue is I don’t have any. And if I want to get real down and dirty honest with myself the ugly truth is I never have.

Sure, at any given point in my life (prior to this point, of course), I’ve been surrounded by friends and acquaintances.  My phone book is chock full of names and numbers ranging anywhere from the “chick I met in the bathroom at a bar” and got into a meaningful conversation with all the way to a few (a very few) people I’ve known for fifteen years or more.  I’ve had BFF’s whom I spent every waking moment with.  I’ve even had a few “fatal attraction friendships” where things got ugly when it was time to walk away from that person.  I’ve had co-workers who I went to Happy Hour’s with and discussed everything from what’s for dinner to their extra-marital affair.  I’ve had “activity buddies” who loved the beach or yoga or some other mutually adored pastime.  Other than a few times in my life (now being one of them), I’ve never had a shortage of people to call to hang out with or, more frequently, people who called me daily with their troubles (I’ve always,  ALWAYS been the “counselor” type).  I never minded that, I embraced it actually and felt I was maybe special because so many people trusted me with their important, heart-felt issues and turned to me in their time of need.   Awwwwww…  I even think it encouraged me to believe I  had some close ties with certain people in my life.  After all, they would share their dirtiest, most horrible inner secrets with me…that certainly must  mean we were friends, right?

No.  It meant I’m a friend.  It meant they recognized me as a caring, trustworthy person and felt comfortable turning to me in times of need.  It did not mean- and has never meant- that we were friends.

I get back to this realization anytime I happen upon that fantastical program Sex and the City.  As much as I heart that well-written and entertaining show, I avoid it!  Can you believe it?  And I mean avoid…like I avoid the-adopt-an-Ethiopian-child commercials…you know, the one’s that hurt to watch? I can hardly tolerate watching it (and have certain moments where I literally can NOT tolerate watching it) because it’s an absolute fantasy from my perspective; a fantasy along the lines of Sleeping Beauty or Cinderella.  And here’s the thing, I’m not jealous of their cute clothes, their fun dating adventures, their gorgeous shoes, or their great careers…  I know those things are realistic and totally plausible in this world.  I enjoy that aspect immensely…to ponder the likes of living in a world where I might spend my mortgage payment on the. Most. Fabulous. Pair. Of. Shoes. EVER.    That’s not a pipe-dream; I know that actually happens.

It’s the friendship.  It’s the friendship these women share…  It’s truly akin to believing in Santa Claus for me.  I don’t typically avoid fairy tale type things.  I find them fun actually.  I love watching The Little Mermaid and letting myself get caught up for an hour or so in the far-fetched possibility of that being a reality.  The difference is that fairy tales are out of this world fantastical…they aren’t based on anything that could ever be authentically possible in this world.  And those are beautifully imaginative and refreshing thoughts to entertain for a period of time.  But the friendship:  the lasting, loyal, fun, loving, and practical friendship these women share is something that is theoretically possible.  Hell, it should exist and I imagine it does exist for some, but I have never seen it in real life, much less ever known it myself.  This is what makes this show too painful for me to watch.

As if the writer of that show (as well as the God of Universal timing) knew this excruciating fact,  I then was once cursed to see (of the very few episodes I actually watched through) the episode where Carrie contemplates relationships and soul mates.  Like a train wreck or a fantasy, I could not bring myself to look away or turn it off.  There it was in all its glory, …dumping pounds of salt in my open wounds:

And this made sense to me….but then it has always made sense to me.  Actually, if I had ever written it down as such, I could probably have claimed it was even my idea originally. I just never had that jealousy issue like other girls did.  Boys were boys, the would come and go or stay…whatever…  And I look how I look..take it or leave it…like it or hate it…  After the age of about 12, I never imagined the fairy tale prince sweeping me off my feet and rescuing me from the wicked step-mother or from some other evil force of nature.  Yeah sure, that sounded fun and romantic and all those great things, BUT…. I only dreamed of having close and authentic friends.  Real friends whom I could share life and troubles, happiness and tragedy, good fortune as well as bad…both mine and theirs.  That was what (and who) I hoped to have in my life someday when I got old and decrepit and reflected back on my life:  that would be my lifelong soul mate, not some Prince Charming or any other “prince” of whatever!  Although it was difficult to watch this show about a group of fun, fabulous and lasting friends even before I saw this specific episode, seeing this one just made it that much worse.  I love the show..I hated that show now!

 I’ve had this type of friendship on the one-way street thing, like an unrequited teenage crush…where I naively convinced myself it was real or at least was developing into a real and lasting friendship.  I merely had to “be the friend I wished to have” and surely some like-minded person would see the extraordinary friendship value in me and scoop me up to be friends forever

But wait….I am that friend.  Due to my early life-wisdom and perspectives on male-female relationships, I have always been that friend….and still,  I don’t have an Amanda or Samantha…a Carrie or a Miranda…much less, three or four!  Geesh, I can’t even fathom having one. To me, the concept of having even one genuine female friend is in the realm of the truly fantastical and imaginary

Oh I’ve had a few posers…  in fact, I’ve had at least three, and possibly up to as many as six over my lifetime.    Three females whom I actually felt that strong connection and imagined that it went beyond “friends”, but more like family.  Friends I would not have hesitated to donate a kidney, step in front of a speeding train, give up my job, my home, any money I might have, a man who loved me, men who liked me, whatever it took to preserve and nurture that friendship.  After all, at the end of the day and other than my children, that was the thing that would mean the most to me when all else was lost or gone. Right?  I’d have this beautiful friendship with this other person that stood the test of time and life, jobs and men, fashion changes and geographical moves…everything.  This was my “soul mate”… the only lasting thing in life one might ever have which is truly priceless, precious, and irreplaceable.

No.  Every single one of these friendships turned out to be merely a one-sided friendship of convenience; a relationship that would stay solid for as long as I could give..and give..and give…and one even turned out to be something far more sinister, but  I don’t  talk about that one at all..to anyone…ever…   I don’t even like to think about that one, as the pain from it, even though many years have passed, is still very raw and smacks me in the most tender and persistently innocent part of my soul.

..and here I am, in my late thirties, dealing with my daughter’s struggles with both finding friends in a new city and leaving a slew of BFF’s behind.  I worry about her as a mother will, but I mostly keep my jaded mouth shut and simply listen and try to offer hopeful insights that I had regarding friendship when I was her age.  

…when I realize last night that from elementary years through college the issue always was “jealousy”.  Females really are challenged with the sad and destructive jealousy gene.  So, in those early years, they’re jealous –  of your hair, your clothes, maybe your intelligence or how much money your parents have.  In your later 20’s and 30’s, it turns into more of a man-jealousy thing, like friendships have a competitive edge for all the women in the world who grew up waiting for their Price Charming…and this earlier jealousy thing gets an additional razor’s edge…the fear that any other female might intentionally or otherwise, steal her chance with her Prince  …so then that obstacle is added to the rest of the jealousy box from the earlier years.  And authentic female relationships become even more difficult or impossible. 

Suddenly you’re in your late 30’s and  you think, Hey, cool…maybe it kinda sucks getting older, BUT  now we’re all  wiser; past all the competitive man-stuff, the awkward insecurities, the jealousy issues, and the life fears which  have plagued and prevented friendship up until now… 

 

Except, we are not. The divorce rate and the common theme of infidelity in relationships make some of these things still huge issues for many women even at the time in life when it “shouldn’t” be a thought anymore.  These elements keep the jealousy-thing in place even at this “wise” time when we’re otherwise mostly secure (or at least comfortable) with ourselves and our lives.  Then, you realize that friendships take years to nurture and grow into an authentic depth of affection.  So now, we have ALL the issues from elementary years on through, further complicated by the fact that if you haven’t already been fortunate enough to have at least one friendship which survived all those earlier obstacles and stood strong, you’re now hit with the challenge that women (and people in general) tend to be more jaded and cynical about life and people and far less trusting overall.  Thus, at this age, they’re often now far less likely to even extend that arm of friendship out to another female at all.  I mean we’re not really clubbing anymore and looking for girls to dance with us or going to football games on Friday night and wanting someone fun to sit with at the game.  We’re okay to go shopping by ourselves, go to the gym on our own, maybe even go to the movies or out for a drink by ourselves (GASP!…something we never would have done in our 20’s).

I remember my mother once telling me, “Kay, if you find even one real and solid friendship in your lifetime, you should consider yourself lucky”.   So, as I go through this hardship and heartache with my oldest daughter, I find myself faced with all of these thoughts and realizations as I’m desperately seeking words of consolation and hope to give her.  I certainly can’t borrow these words of wisdom from my mother to hand down to her, in spite of the fact that I fully realize how right-on she was; because I’m still facing the hard fact that I wasn’t one of the “lucky ones”.

Me watching SATC!

…and I’m sure you can find the irony in the situation when after I tucked my tearful and heartbroken daughter in bed last night,  after hours of heart-to heart discussion, I came in my room to see those damned SATC ladies on my television!  Those damned wenches…they really do have everything!

Ugh!