Category Archives: Mission FAIL

Superstar vs. I think I feel a headache coming on…

So, things are going fairly well with the Twin.  I’m certainly not madly in love or anything, but I like him.  I’m learning there are some interesting issues when dating an identical twin.  I’m feeling fortunate that although he and his brother are definitely identical, they are easy to tell apart at this point in their lives, although it’s easy to see that this wasn’t always the case, as they ARE absolutely identical.  Twin brother has bad teeth and a moustache honoring the 70’s porn era.

*NOT* my Twin's look...nooo wayyy!!

My guy does NOT have these lovely identifying assets…or you bet your ass he would not be my guy at all!!  Umm…yukkkk!!!

Thus, they actually are quite different for all their crazy doppelganger-ness!  Twin apparently has some serious drug and alcohol issues.  It’s sad to see, but it’s heartwarming to see my guy’s utter devotion to his twin.  And it is definitively utter devotion!  Yeah, I’ve several whacked out stories to tell about that, but said events might require a post all their own…

This post is of a different, more personal nature.  It’s also somewhat embarrassing and delicate…  And of course, these things generate a great deal of reflection on a plethora of thoughts and opinions!

My twin is great:  he is thoughtful, not too smothering, funny at times, has it mostly together with a bit of the unwanted drama included, but that’s mostly tolerable even.  Suffice to say, he’s a pretty great guy overall.  However…  Ummm…how do I put this respectfully and without as much insult as it’s going to imply…. Hmm…..umm…..well…..ok…..ummmm…no way to put it other than just throw it out there, I guess….  It’s just that…he…yeah…he..ummmm…

SUCKS IN BED!

Ahhhhh…what a relief!  I’ve said it.  I got it out!

And, I’m not positive it’s that he really just sucks.  I mean, he was capable of seducing me and creating the desire to actually have sex with him the first time we did.  That’s not an easy task for most guys in my life, I confess. And, that was fun…until we actually did..and then it was rather disappointing, but I just told myself it was early and just the beginning of that aspect of our relationship.  He had plenty of other great qualities to keep me interested in continuing for a while longer to see how it might go.

I also can’t help but wonder if it’s me?  The bottom line is my ex boyfriend was hands down THE most phenomenal lover EVER.  I mean, that guy had the art of seduction down to a freakin’ science.  I could have a blistering migraine, be on my period, not slept in days, be starving, have the freakin’ knock you on your ass flu, and STILL…he could make me want him.  It was honest to God, THAT amazing!!  The clincher to it was in three years of dating, it never got lax or dull either.  Not a bit!  The only possible downfall to how superb sex with my ex was, was that it was a challenge to have a quickie.  You know, when you have 15 minutes to get to work and your man runs his hand across your ass…soooo deliciously that you want him more than you even care about your damned job…all you know is you. Must. Have. Him.  NOW.  But you can’t ration yourself to under 15 minutes because 5 minutes makes you want 10 more and 15 minutes makes you want 30 more and so on and so forth.

Yeah, I thought I’d had some pretty amazing sex in my day…until THIS guy…and I realized every previous “amazing” sexual experience I’d ever had before was mediocre at best.  Hmm…  Words just fall short to describe.  Yeah, I could write a lengthy post on the topic of sex with my ex alone.  After I first had sex with him, I actually felt deeply sorry for all the women in this world who would go their entire life and not know this level of sexual amazement.  No kidding, I felt literally guilty that I got to have sex with him and so many females were going to miss out on it.  Weird maybe,  but absolute fact.  Sex with my ex created a level of soul-joy that I wanted the whole world to know at least once in their lives!!

So, I know from experience that not every guy/sexual experience is going to be to that level of absolute unbelievable ecstasy…and I know the majority simply just aren’t going to ever get anywhere near that kind of skill.  I mean, thank God in heaven my ex wasn’t my first or I’d really have been ruined for life from ever being able to appreciate sex at the average or even above average level!

So, I’m perfectly willing to admit that my opinion of sex with the Twin may sadly be extremely biased.  But what do I do with that?  How do I unlearn the ex and go back to my previous standards?   How in the freakin’ HELL does one do that?!   Ahhhh….fuck!  Is that even possible??!?

If I try really hard  to give Twin a fair rating, he still falls well below average and that makes sex with him, from my perspective at least, HORRIBLE!!

yeah, sadly this *is* MY Twin in one certain aspect...

At least, I think that’s a “fair” rating?  Hell, I may not be capable of being totally fair after Superstar Lover, but I really think Twin is well below average in the sexual prowess department.  Ughhh.

Twin is probably slightly above average size-wise, so that’s not the issue at all. He’s just fast and simple.  Oh so simple…  There’s no crazy OH MY GOD passion or desire for me.  It’s more of an, ok, I guess we haven’t done it in a while, so alright , let’s do it and get it over with while I manufacture more excuses not to for the next week or so.  BAD, huh?  I feel terribly that I do this.  I’ve never been that girl before; thinking up excuses to avoid sex.  I’ve always enjoyed sex…even before my ex.  I really liked sex…. And now I don’t know any more if it’s really just my issue because sex is SO not typically like it was with my ex…OR if it’s just that my tolerance level for humdrum average sex is non-existent now OR if sex with Twin  just truly sucks that bad.

Well, this is really my first attempt at having an actual relationship with anyone since my ex and I split five years ago, which unfortunately also means it’s the first time I’ve attempted an on-going sexual relationship with anyone since the ex either.  And damn, it’s so disappointing!  But he IS a super great guy otherwise…  I love being with him, well, other than that part…

I just don’t know about long term with Twin.  Or hell, ANY one for that matter!

WTF?

Yeah, I stirred the moral gravy pot…and got a little creepy on my shirt…

Very interesting weekend…full of atrocious stupidities, learning experiences, and interesting possibilities of learning experiences to come!

I’ve yet to discuss in depth here contestant #2 in the Who wants to Date a Married Man Show.  The reason for this is primarily that my interest in him is hardly enough to mention.  He is Drunken-Dance(from two years ago)-Guy; I’ve just never had a huge interest in him on any level because …uhhh well, because he just does not hold my interest.  He’s in the basic, semi-attractive category looks-wise and his conversation skills, while they’re not horrible by any means, they are way less than intriguing.  In fact, if I had to compare him to a food, he’d go safely into the simple and bland category of plain white rice or say, whole-wheat bread maybe…but subtract any healthy aspects as he’s married and therefore lacks any health-nutrients whatsoever. If I had to liken him to an activity, it would be something like watching paint dry.  Yeah, he’s that irresistable!

However, he does get five stars for persistence.  I have blown this guy off to the point of rudeness.  I rarely answer his calls at all and I’m only mildly chatty when we do have conversations.  I make no attempt whatsoever to be charming, cute, exciting, or flirty to this man.  I mean ZERO attempts…and he continues to call and proceeds to imply this “thing” between us.  What thing? …as there’s been no “thing” and I’ve demonstrated no interest in creating a “thing” !  Apparently a “thing” in his mind is enough ‘thing” to a “thing” make.  This point leads me to perceive DDG as a self-consumed ass.  No, he’s never been rude or inappropriate directly  but his sheer persistence combined with my obvious lack of interest in him and in having any “thing” with him can only mean one thing: absolute self-consumption.  Self-consumed because he’s oblivious to my lack of interest and “ass” because he’s so persistently and actively looking to cheat on his wife…ummm…yuk!

The last few times he’s asked to see me, if I had plans with friends, then I’d say, Hey I’m going out with some friends later, if you want to meet up, you’re welcome.  He always responds like, I can’t really meet you in groups (really?  Umm…why?  Are you implying we have some secret thing going on or something?).  I simply say, Okay…suit yourself…gotta run…buh-bye.  This annoys me for two reasons.  One:  the thought of sitting somewhere alone with him has loud overtones of an experience akin to counting every grain of sand on the beach.  And two: and once again: there is nothing going on here to “hide”!  Nothing!  Nada!  The only thing to hide here would be his lewd thoughts and depraved intentions!  To imply directly to me that we’re on some secret clandestine journey together which must remain well-hidden from random people whom he doesn’t know and don’t know (or give a damn) about him, is ludicrous to the degree of laughable.  There is nothing going on here pal, aside from your pathetic and futile efforts to get something going on.  Have a hint buddy:  there has to be something to hide before there’s a need to sneak around and stay out of the spotlight…or in this particular case, keep out of random crowds of people in public places.  You’re not Justin Bieber for gawd’s sake – avoiding the paparazzi and possibly horrifying Enquirer headlines.  For the love of white rice…get over yourself already!  Hmph….annoying….!!

On top of which and I reiterate – nothing is going on!  And if he’d use even a smidgeon of thought, intelligence, body language (speech), or intuition, he’d clearly see that NOTHING is in danger of going on either!  Pshh….ridiculous.  Hey schmuck-man, I’ve shown as much interest in you, meeting up with you, or even talking to you as I would a paint-by-number with only one freakin’ number!  Hello??  Is anybody home???

So…one (especially I)  will never know why when he called Friday early evening and asked if I was free to go have a drink, I agreed.  Almost backed out before the conversation even ended though, as he struggled to think of a suitable (i.e. “safe”) place to go.  What’s up pal?  Are you thinking this “meet for a drink” is code for a public make-out-fest?  If you’re as nervous as a whore in church just to sit in a public bar and have a drink with me with 100 other people sitting around sharing the same space as we, then I have to go with, Not a good idea for you to do it fella!

And the fact that you ARE this nervous over NOTHING firmly tells me that you’re not at all interested in any kind of friendship or camaraderie with me…in fact, you’ve not even contemplated that possibility…and ewww..that makes me feel dirty all by itself.

Yeah, I don’t know why I went anyway.  Chalk it up to my informal research of immoral asses like this or listening to Sympathy for the Devil too many times, I dunno.   No.  Hey, you know what?  Actually, we can just chalk this up to my growing fatigue at his persistence in the face of my obvious lack of interest; as in, yeah, okay, let’s get this over with my friend; let’s set the record on this straight once and for all pig-cheater-guy; let’s invite the fat lady to sing already so we can get to the more pertinent (and final) act two of you LOSING MY NUMBER, you LOSER-ASS.  Hell, if you’re going to try to have a cheat-on-your-wife-fest with me, then at least be interesting or for the love of gawd, look up the word finesse in the dictionary.  GAWD..something…anything…to make yourself seem appealing in some way, shape, or form to even have a conversation with, much less a freakin’ extramarital affair!!

Thankfully, he selected a local place where many of my friends frequent.  I know Billy the bartender quite well and yay! he was working.  Cheating pig comes in a few minutes after I, acting  all weird-n-creepy-like, pays for my drink and then says, looking straight ahead and not at me, “We can’t be here.  Someone is here that I didn’t expect.”  Ohhh..really?  Okay… you’d probably better go then.  No, he says, my truck is outside parked on the hill.  Meet me out at my truck, but wait a few minutes after I leave to walk out.

What the FUCK?!  Now, I’m starting to think that this guy is doing this just for the “excitement”, as he’s making up drama where there isn’t any and making things look suspicious where there’s NOTHING. Does he fancy himself as the starring actor in some dramatic movie-of-the-week?  Has he listened to a few too many renditions of “Secret Lovers”?  Hell, I’m questioning even his basic intellectual capacity at this point..  OMG…is he just a literal idiot too?  I’m further annoyed. Because of my extreme level of annoyance, I took a reeeeeaaaaally long time to finish my drink: tiny sip…chit-chat with random lady sitting next to me…tinier sip…chat up Billy-the-cutie for a few minutes…sippy-sip…text a few friends….sippiest sip – which was more like a kitten’s little lap…watch some hockey on the bar television….siiipppp….  Finally, about forty minutes or so later, I get up to head outside and Billy asks, Awww, where ya goin’?  I say to meet up with a friend.  He winks adorably at me and says well you should come back…I’m working all night long.  Awwwww…Billy is irresistibly adorable!

Outside, I look back and forth from my car to the hill, debating if I even wanted to bother with whatever was next in this absurdity.  I went to his truck and jumped in.  I realize given my feelings about this kind of thing mixed up with my lack of interest, this seems truly an odd decision, but it was a great choice after all and I’ll tell you why.

Sitting in his truck, he starts talking of the random anonymous person in the bar who made it uncomfortably unsafe for him.  Awww……so I suggested another totally secluded out of the way bar and he said, “I don’t even know where that is”.  Ummm yeah…exactly you idiot.  Geesh!  Then, he says his wife is out of town and we could just go to his house.  Oh my freakin’ gawd…now that is it.  He was clearly not interested at all in maybe sitting and having a drink and an attempt (however futile for him that might’ve been) at some witty conversation. Now, I had all the answers and info I could possibly ever need about this guy and this situation.  Right along with all those answers came my rare ability to just speak plainly sans my politeness and my don’t-wanna-hurt-anyone’s-feelings-rose colored loquacious crayon.  And my irritation became loud and proud.  If you’re that nervous to just have a drink with me when nothing else has happened between us at ALL, then you shouldn’t be doing  this.  Why are you trying so hard to cheat on your wife anyway?  What’s the matter with you?

He bluntly says, I’ve wanted you since the minute I first saw you.  When I see you somewhere, I can’t pull my eyes away from you.  I think about you too much…all the time really…

WHAT.  THE.  FUCK?!  Are you freakin’ kiddin’ me?!  You’re an utter weirdo?! Psh…no I didn’t say that  utter weirdo part.

So I say, I was willing to have a drink with you and chit-chat, but if your sole endeavor here is to cheat on your wife, I gotta break  it to you, you picked the wrong girl.  I can’t be certain I’d be interested in whatever you’re suggesting even were you single, but I do know for certain that being any part of you cheating on a sacred thing like marriage holds zero interest for me. I’ve been cheated on by a husband before and I will never be that person who takes part in that kind of ugliness or creates that much pain in another human being’s heart.

He nods his head and says he understands.  I start to get out of his truck and he says, I just want you to know you’re beautiful. And whenever I see you anywhere, I’ll be thinking of how much I want you…just know that…

Yeah, you go with that pal…seal that coffin.  Because that little last gift you offered up, just makes me feel wrong and so freakin’ dirty that I now feel like I need to go home and immediately take a shower just to cleanse myself of the pile of disgust you’ve just immersed me in.

No, I didn’t say that part..although I kinda wish I had..  I just hopped out of the truck and walked the few feet to my car, debating whether to go back in and chat with Billy the adorably sweet bartender and drown my disgust in yager bombs and bloody mary’s or go home and scrub myself down head-to-toes with a harsh disinfectant and holy water.

Again, the debate was tough.  I just felt so horrible that I’d even met up with this guy…so disgusted with myself, with him, with the debauchery and casual nature of this kind of thing in general.  Hmm…drown the mind/thoughts in a haze of alcohol… or scrub myself fresh and clean…??

I opted to just go home and take a two hour shower, washing away the entire nasty ass residue that creeper-man had  radiated onto me.  Umm…yuk!

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?

EUREKA?!

Haven’t been on any dates lately, so I’ve not much on that to update….  Have had several lovely offers, but just not feeling it really…

However, I made an interesting discovery today which is both perplexing and somewhat comical to me…we all know how strange my sense of humor is though…hehe 🙂

ahhh geesh...did my kids throw their garbage on the ground?

Cleaning outside around our pool area this morning, I came across this tiny little shiny gold thing…really shiny…like..well, like sparkly gold!  No one has been out there hanging out in weeks so I’m curious of course.  I pick it up…..  Couldn’t really figure out what it was at first….I’m thinking, a candy wrapper from the kids or something…?

No.  that’s not it.  It has a tiny section of writing on it…but I can only make out one full letter…umm….it’s an“M” in black….umm…????  WHAT???  I’m pretty sure it’s…it’s…noooooooo…it’s not possible….ummm…it’s…nooooooo…

WTF??

And I’m aghast!  Truly, ummm….this isn’t possible.  There’s no way….I must be mistaken, after all it has been awhile…

It’s a small corner section of a condom wrapper!!  WTF??!  That can’t be!  No one’s been out there “getting busy” since I moved here three months ago.  And I mean no one!  In addition, it can’t have been out there for very long (before we moved in?) either because I’m out there by myself at least once a day for a few moments and I’m certain I’d have noticed something so shiny and bright that it looked like jewelry if it had been there for any length of time…

Could it have blown from a neighbors’ garbage out on the street…over and above the cement walls dividing our back yards….  Ummm….that seems highly unlikely, bordering on impossible.  So…what in the hell is this…?

You have GOT to be kiddin me...

Umm….seriously, WTF?  So of course I ponder further…. Hmmmmm…. Other than swimming with the Lingerer (months ago), no man has even been out there at all….and NO man since I moved here has been out there in a situation to need a condom!

Wait…

Mr. Nurse was out there checking on how to get my hot tub going since I haven’t used it yet…umm…..  But…I wasn’t even out there with him.  We weren’t making-out out there at all…Ummm……….

OMGOMGOMG!!!! Is it possible that Nurse-man was so certain he was going to get “lucky” that he put on a condom in advance?????

That’s a disturbing thought…truly…extremely disturbing!  However, it does explain my weird “feelings” when Nurse-guy was here….OMG!!!

Ughhh…you have got to be kidding me!!!  And don’t you even think that the irony of the “M” is at all lost on me…hahahahahah…life really does have quite the sense of humor, doesn’t it?

Pregnant pause vs. the awkward silence

..sometimes a good idea...

I’m learning how to be comfortable with silence in conversation.  Traditionally, this goes against my natural chatty instincts, so it’s a work in progress for sure!

I began this lesson with my ex husband years ago.  My daughters and I actually often fondly refer to him as The Pauser.  He is the King of Pauses.  He knows how to utilize the effect a moment of silence can bring to many situations, as an employer, a father, a husband/bf, etc, etc…  He is so effective at this, that he doesn’t ever need to actually say words to make a person doubt themselves or start to worry and get paranoid…  even if the paranoia is about the phone signal (Umm…hello??? Are you still there?) or gets as awkward and disconcerting as frantic paranoia about the underlying thoughts in the conversation (OMG… ummm…WHAT???!  Did I just make an ass out of myself?  Did I just say the most ridiculous thing ever?  Is my foot in my mouth?  Umm….Why isn’t this man saying anything at ALL?).

Over years of dealing with the ex husband and his excessive pausing-business, I’ve realized how truly priceless it is in many situations and I almost envy his confidence and genius to both utilize this simple technique to his advantage and to just pull it off in general.  I mean, he is gooooooood at this!  In difficult or serious conversations, it’s unnerving to say the least.  In everyday casual conversations it’s frustrating and annoying.  But either way, I have to give him fat kudos for being a literal genius at this conversational method of staying one-up (or two or three “up”?) on his conversation partner of any given situation or moment. 

As a result, the man rarely needs to apologize or bother to explain his words (ever!), because he simply chooses them so carefully, it’s almost painful at times to be on the other end of these conversations and his “pauses”.  For the person who has just said something of utter importance (to them), the pauses feel like horrific awkward silences…that dreaded empty space you suddenly feel frantic to fill in to further explain, throw in comedic effect, plead for a response…whatever…anything will do; while to him, this is merely a very effective pregnant pause.  So you can gather how successful mastering this technique can be:  while he’s slowly and silently contemplating his every carefully chosen word, you tend to start babbling ridiculously, filling the space with chatter that offers even more information before he has yet responded at all! It is truly a brilliant conversational tactic in all situations and relationships for him.

I am not this person by nature though.  At all.  I’m a very open and expressive type, much to my frequent dismay in situations when I’ve said too much or said something easily misunderstood (yet again) or any of the bazillion faux pas that can arise from being extraordinarily open, chatty, and honest.  I’m training myself (via so much regular conversation with “the master”) though, to sit quietly through the pregnant pauses, see them for what they are, and not start nervously rambling.

However, I deal with this conversational silence master-mind on such a frequent (and frustrating) basis, that I no longer can adequately decipher the difference between a pregnant  pause and an out-n-out awkward silence.  I can appreciate the value of a moment of silence in a conversation and leave it at that.  I’m a ponder-er type, so pausing to reflect on either what has been said or what you’re about to say is, in theory, always a good idea. Awkward silences on the other hand are still dreadfully uncomfortable for me and I feel a responsibility to fill that space asap either to put the other person at ease (my strong southern breeding) or perhaps merely to put myself at ease…  Either…or…both…and…all of the above!  Thankfully, I’ve not had many cases in my entire life of “awkward silence”.    I’ve a number of natural tools in my conversation toolbox to either avoid this altogether or, at the least, work my way through it quickly and painlessly.  It’s just not something I’ve had to deal with much….for whatever reason…

Umm....soooooo..is it hot enough for ya?

Talking last night for the first time with Gabe, I discovered this phenomenon:  Lots of awkward silences!  How truly odd to experience this with a person whom I can write to with such total ease, at such length, and about so many different things!

Was this a “normal” first-time conversation thing?  Or was this a strange and difficult to decipher possible conversational “issue”?  When you add my chronic dealings with the master mind of intentional pregnant pauses to the mix of experiences with first conversations and dates and meeting new people in general, it’s truly hard for me to tell exactly what’s going on….  I certainly want to honor the prgnant pause types, but still don’t care much for the awkward silences…  Hmm..how to differentiate in these situations?

It was a delightful conversation with gabe for the most part and yet, I kept wondering if maybe I was ridiculous both for what I was saying and/or maybe  how I was saying it.  Yeah, I babble.  I do.  When getting to first know someone, I just don’t hold anything back really.  Well, I try to be in good taste and only discuss appropriate topics of course…  but I don’t carefully ponder my words;  I just talk… about Vegas weather, Vegas energy vibes, my love of peace frog stores, my fascination with the human psyche and the development of the conscience…and I ask questions..where did you grow up, what’s your family like, what are your thoughts and opinions on *this* or on *that* or whatever…and I always try to listen as much as I talk too.

I’m currently of the opinion that it’s often humor which stands smack-dab in the middle to differentiate between preganant pauses and awkward silences.

Ahhhh humor…..  Humor is often so difficult to convey or translate via the written word, yet rarely so difficult in verbal conversation with the added benefits of tone and inflection.  However, I arrive at three possibilities here regarding my conversation with Gabe: 1.  He just doesn’t share my (admittedly odd) sense of humor,  2.  He doesn’t “get” my humor, or 3.  He just doesn’t think anything I’ve said was funny, while I think it’s hysterical.  Or perhaps any combination of the three…?

It is the very definition of awkward when you tell a funny story and a person you don’t know that well anyway just sorta sits there in silence..  Ummm…again, we can blame cell phones for this: Hello?  Are you there?  And when we’ve determined that the signal is fine, then the silence from before and after this determination becomes excruciatingly awkward…  Ohhh…okay, so you heard me but I guess that just wasn’t funny to you…? Ummm… Okay…well…ummm…

But dammit, I'M laughing...or trying to...or was gong to....umm...guess not:-/

Then suddenly it’s no longer nearly as funny to me either….  Hmm……  oooohhhhh-kayyyy then…

This was definitely awkward and happened a few times. Seems that while emailing was a simple thing for Gabe and I, actual conversation was considerably more difficult… Ughh…   

Add to this,  that I shared a personal “experience” with Gabe that perhaps is not a gem of a situation from my distant past, but was merely in theory and therefore not actually any kind of issue past or present.  Not to mention, in my humble opinion it wasn’t some kind of dreaded confession of horror either… nothing all that horrifying overall and merely a conceptual thought at that.  Ohhh gosh, never mind..why am I being so mysterious about this?  It’s really not a big deal!  Here it is:

Once during my senior year in college, while newly married and struggling to catch up on my husband’s (now ex) difficult credit card bills, I contemplated

Yeah, yeah..I thought about it ....once!!

stripping (yeah, as in removing my clothes while dancing and accepting money for said effort) for a few months just to get the money to help pay off those bills which he was behind on when we married.  Yeah, I did

 I actually thought about it enough that I discussed this possibility with my husband.  Of course that idea was tossed out almost before I got the whole thing out of my mouth in a conversation with the husband, but I confess, I did truly and sincerely ponder doing this once.  I was pretty much laughing at this little confessional story…or starting to….  When I get the….DA-DA-DUMMMMMM…

Big fat silence.

Hmm…..ohhhhhhhkayyyyy…

Awwwwkwarrrrddd.

Slim pickins’ around here

What I used to be...

So I had my token woe-is-me rant/whine yesterday.  I realize this becomes harder to me because I’m just hitting that place as a mother where I can’t fix everything that hurts my daughters.  It’s horrible!  So, as well as wishing (like she is/was too) that  I had friends in this life, I found myself listening and longing for those days when there wasn’t a tear she could shed which with a little silly chicken-noodle-dance around the kitchen in our pj’s  or some hugs and kisses couldn’t fix..and the tears would be gone and forgotten like they never even happened.  I was the MommaI could fix anything and everything.  Now, I’m becoming the “Mom”- the powerless to help much at all.  It’s a difficult transition for me and seriously, given my own lifelong issues with friendship, I did not need to go through that just to get in bed with my television tuned into whatever damned station those 4 fabulous soul-mate-chicks were on.  Not right then..geesh!  Anyway, other than the Momma to Mom thing, I’m over it already.   It is what it’s always been.  I can deal.  Hell, I’ve gone through far worse than that issue and come out just fine 😉

So, on to my recent dating emails. Umm…suffice to say WOW!  The pickins’ are a bit slim, yeah..but let me tell you, they are of the highest quality.  Allow me to share and elaborate:

So...I guess you want me to write you, huh?

I received this priceless, informative, and endearing email from a guy with a screen name that begs to be “dominated” (yeah…literally).  Hey, whatever…to each his own; it takes all kinds, right?   At least it demonstrates the flair for creativity that men who enjoy submission must innately have and I did not know that about them. So it’s great to learn new things!  It’s rather long, complicated, and rich in detail, so I’m just going to post it by straight-up copy and paste. 

“  write me back if you want to hang
out sometime write me back if you
want to hang out sometime write me
back if you want to hang out
sometime write me back if you want
to hang out sometime “

 What?  You ask if I’m not concerned about email copyrights or the privacy violation of posting verbatim such a personal email here might be? No, I’m not.  I think under the circumstances, I could just write him back and say, Listen b**ch, I’m posting this email on my blog and you’re just going to say thank you.  I’m certain he’d get immense pleasure from that and it’s clearly the sure-fire way to keep this one’s interest. 

Yeah, I’ll do that right after I share the next fabulous and unique email I received:

Dear (Kay),

I really enjoyed your Profile. 🙂 
It looks like we’re both completely
finished with all the nonsense and are
ready for something special and genuine.
Please reply and we can explore the
possibilities together:

*******************
Steve
(Here he includes every contact info the man might have .  Personal email address, messenger ID, and cell number)

Thank you and all the best.

 Well Wow-ZA!  It seems this guy really “gets me” and is obviously seeking something real and meaningful in the midst of a plethora of online dating b.s.  I’m sure it’s mere coincidence that he bears the name of “Steve”.  With such an insightful and beautiful reach-out to me as this, he could in no way share any commonalities with the Grope-y Groperton-Steve!  This one is a real gem…

However, I think it’s important to mention here that in no place or shape of imagination do I include anything of anything on my page pertaining to “nonsense” of any kind…dating or otherwise.  I mean, I don’t have a shred of anything like that on my page!  My page simply says something along the lines of, 

Hi, I’m Kay!  I’m new to online dating and new to this area, mostly hoping to meet new people and make friends.  If something more comes from that, then fantastic, but I’m perfectly okay if it doesn’t too. Simply meeting new people is a fantastic learning experience and loads of fun!! Life is short and wondrous…I don’t waste time dwelling on negatives.  I enjoy many activities…blah, blah, blah…and so on…

What I imagine Steve *really* represents

Okay…so here’s my Sherlock deduction from “Steve’s” email.  It’s a copy and paste that he sends to anyone and everyone he writes on the site!  This is an easy figure for a few reasons: 1. His email does not pertain to a single thing from my page.  In fact, it borders on the “opposite” of anything I actually say about myself, dating, or life in general! However (2.) I’ve noticed that a great deal of people on that site take up the majority of their page saying things like “sick of the b.s., tired of the games, do NOT respond to me IF  blah, blah, blah…”; i.e. pretty much listing every hurt or disappointment they’ve experienced in life since the age of two and how they DON’T want any more of that.

I happen to know this is a very common theme on there because I weed out possible interests by that alone…   because (and I reiterate a summation of my page here) I “don’t dwell in negativity or focus on what I don’t want in dating or people, but rather what I do like and what I enjoy about life and people…

Here's what I think Steve meant to say

I’d venture though, that this “stock” response sent in masses to attractive photos really grabs the interest of a great deal of women with minimum effort on Steve’s part.  Hell, I feel confident that he didn’t even read my page…  But, I give kudos to Steve for upping his positive responses/ ratio odds by merely limiting his time and effort and focusing on the really important part:  writing to mass volumes of attractive photos, while simultaneously throwing something “sensitive and personal” in them that a majority of jaded-dating women will probably think that he not only actually read their page, but mistakenly also probably think to themselves, “Awwwwww..,Steve really ‘gets it’”!  

More responses + less effort = better odds for insensitive-non-committed-lazy ass Steve!  That’s genius!!   GO STEVE-RACER…GO!

Awwww...did your wife interfere w/your online dating again?

I also made notice of another interesting facet of the online dating thing:  Three or four (yeah, THAT many!) guys who have written me in the past few days, have since deleted their profiles before I even had the chance to read the emails to me.  Wtf?!  I don’t know about you, but that screams, “Most likely MARRIED and got BUSTED” to me…or something along those lines.  How does that time frame even work?  He’s “single and looking..browsing profiles..emailing…lets chat, date, or email” whatever… and then within 48 hours of that, he’s either totally lost interest in dating at all or found someone he really likes…???  What?!  Nahhh…ummmmm…I don’t think so…

OMG…SCARY!!!!!

On my mind, but not my heart

Having gotten some excellent comments on the M-phenomenon from my fave bloggers here, I’ve come back again and again to something.

Four years ago I split from the absolute and only love of my life.  It was horrible, soul breaking, heart wrenching, mind and life altering, painful, confusing..  Every day that I woke up (well, the nights that I even slept, that is) from that point forward, it all felt so wrong and unnatural, like a split from literal reality had occurred.  Had the chronic unshakeable sense that I was in the midst of a nightmare which couldn’t possibly be actually happening, but that I could not wake from.  Horrifying on a level which I never even could have imagined was possible prior in my life..even after two divorces…it was dreadful to say the least…

B was for Barely there...

Anyway, I met a guy, “B” maybe a year or so after this “split”.  B was handsome, funny, super nice…and he asked me out.  Well as “over” as things were with the ex, we were still very much “carrying on” in many different ways, neither really letting go, but not together per se either….  So I declined this great guy’s date request.   Strangely enough, I suddenly kept seeing this guy everywhere.  Every time I was out with friends..there he was.  The grocery store..OMG he’s here too!  On lunch with co-workers…B, too, was having lunch there!  It became stranger and stranger… and was extraordinarily coincidental.  Finally, I just decided that all signs pointed to the fact that I should at least try to go out with him a few times.

For three months, it went well.  We had a great time.  He was truly fabulous.  I even lessened my time spent with the ex (and ceased sexual activity with the ex mostly) because I felt I owed a real effort to this guy and of course, owed him an attempt at fidelity as well.  I didn’t really embrace this time away from the ex though – in my heart and in all other ways, that was really where I wanted to be.  I was more making an effort to force that lingering non-relationship-relationship to cease rather than actually trying in this new relationship with B. 

So after about three months of doing “this” (whatever “this” was), he and I were at dinner one evening at my most favorite restaurant.  He seemed a little distant, but nothing too blatant, so I just avoided it.  I’m not nosey by nature and I really believe in respecting people’s privacy.  Plus, I really didn’t want to have one of those “what are you thinking/feeling” conversations because the ugly truth was, I had no desire to share with B what my real feelings were…being that they were not even really there..but constantly with the ex…no matter how hard I was trying to force that to stop and make my feelings for him subside.  For these two reasons, I never mentioned his being more quiet than usual and the evening went okay, all in all.

How I felt with B

The following day, he called me at work asking to talk.  I felt really nervous about this because although I wasn’t being outright deceitful to him, I really could not(and had NO desire to) share my sincere feelings with this guy..you know….they were definitely 110% with the ex and it tore my heart in two to have to keep blowing the ex off, just to be “honest” …err…straight with this guy I was seeing.  And more ugly truth here was that my plan wasn’t even working.  The ex wasn’t listening anyway and regularly “rejecting” my ex was merely getting more and more painfully impossible, not easier as I had hoped.  So, needless to say, I was not looking forward to this “talk”.  In fact, the thought alone made me downright nauseated.

So we talk on the phone during my lunch…  And he says, Kay, I really like you and I suppose there’s really no reason to stop seeing you, but I can’t shake the feeling that you’re just going through the motions of this…Sure, you’re with me and that’s nice and all, but it just seems like you’re just not really with me.  And I just want to know from you if I should bother keeping on with this.

I was stunned.  I could not say anything.  I mean literally, I could not even respond.  After a few moments of silence, he even said, Hello?  Are you still there?

I finally choked out,  I really have to go.  Promise I’ll call you later though. And I hung up the phone without letting him agree.

How could I argue this? He was so dead-on, it was scary.  So, I knew I either had to admit this (the very thing I’d been “hiding” from him from the start) or pretty much just lie straight out and deny it.  I respected him; I even really liked him.  I didn’t want to do either.  Really, all I wanted was to just be back with my ex and thus, solve the whole damned issue across the board.

…of course, I called him back later and admitted that he was right, apologized profusely, and told him I understood totally if he felt it best to stop seeing me.  He did.  It ended right then.  I liked him – I really did, but other than some guilt over letting it go on for three months, I really never skipped a beat.  In fact, my “ex” and I went to the movies and had crazy wild OH MY GAWD it’s BEEN TOO EFFIN’ LONG sex that very night…

And all felt right and balanced in the world again (as effed up as THAT truth is!), so even my guilt didn’t last as long as it probably should have…

After much reflection, this past event keeps popping up again and again in my mind.  I wonder if this is not maybe something similar to what’s going on with M now?  …only maybe this time, it’s both of us feeling this “half in” way a little…or maybe even more him this time and only a bit is coming from me?

I know my heart’s not fully in any of  this (M, dating, sex, whatever…), but my mind is in it some…  And maybe M just has a similar struggle…  What even happens when you put two mostly absent people into one relationship together?  A disconnected connection.