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Too good to be true…or simply a blessed gift of sorts?

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Sooooo after all my dating endeavors and life upheavals since the beginning of this little project, it all comes down to the tried and true.  I met a wonderful man with absolutely zero assistance of any  dating sites.

To be totally honest, I really couldn’t blame the dating sites themselves, as I didn’t devote much time or effort into that aspect.  On an effort scale of 1-10 (10 being a great deal of effort), I’d give myself a solid 4 and even that rating would need to fluctuate between a 0 and 4, with 4 being the most effort I put into it at all.

However, I have come to this conclusion (fair or otherwise) in regard to online dating sites: the majority of men I met fell into one of four categories.  1: desperately seeking casual or kinky sex.  2: desperately seeking period (needy clingers).  3:  Just plain odd, weird, or borderline scary. And 4: any combination of the previous three.

Perhaps if I’d put in more effort or taken the experience more seriously, I’d have had better results, but really the whole thing was more of a way to meet people and experience the concept of just randomly dating in itself (which I’ve not done much of in my life prior).

I’d definitely do it all over again, though.  I had so many laughs and learning experiences that it was well worth it – disappointments and all. Hmmmm…well, after reflecting on that for a moment here, I believe most of the truly fun  part of the whole experience was in blogging and discussing it with the terrific people I came to know via this blog; without being able to laugh and share with you all, I really think it would have been mostly just weird and disappointing.  It’s you people here who made it an absolute blast…and nothing that creates that much laughter and/or compassionate support through life’s knocks outside of dating, could ever be regretted!

And so I move on to the amazing guy I met…  After going months without even looking at or checking on my dating sites and not even thinking about dating, true to the timelessly tried and true old adage, when you stop looking, it finds you.  And R certainly found me!  At around noon on a random Saturday, horribly hung-over, wearing not a stitch of makeup and carelessly thrown on clothes to go to retrieve my debit card from the site of the criminal partying and reconnecting with some dear, dear friends the evening before, I order a bloody mary to assist with my recovery attempt.  I sat on the patio, sipping my drink with a friend and making casual conversation with a group of people doing the very same and reminiscing about the fun shenanigans the prior evening.

Not able to finish my healing concoction, I returned inside to tab out at last.  Being only noon-ish, there were only 3 people sitting inside the pub.  Two were old regulars and one was a very handsome face I’d not seen before, looking fresh and outdoorsy from an early walk on the beach just down the street and not at all like he was nursing a painful hang-over! I was feeling embarrassed for this handsome guy to hear me tabbing out from the evening before, so I made a casual joking remark to him about doing the “debit card walk of shame” since he was looking at me and was within ear shot of my conversation with the bartender.  Naturally having no thought whatsoever that in my haphazard appearance would he ever find me remotely attractive nor think much of me at all except maybe that I might in fact be a party girl/alcoholic type. Yet somehow my boldness (sheerly from my embarrassment) led to a little chat, which led to an exchange of numbers and then a date for later that night.

Guy was in town from Atlanta, GA visiting his family for the weekend and had gone earlier to enjoy the beach he missed so much, and deciding to stop by this little lakeside pub for a beer on his way home.  His gentle, yet masculine, voice and soft southern accent very distinctly reminded me of my dad who passed away suddenly in March.  This surprising element (being in Michigan) put me at total ease.  His handsome looks and southern gentleman charm of course added interest and intrigue to the whole exchange.

We went that evening on one of the best dates I’ve ever had in my entire life (no kidding!!).  We talked and laughed so much the time flew by.  It felt as though he was an old friend or boyfriend from years earlier and we had all these years to catch up on life’s happenings and only one evening in which to do so since he was returning to Atlanta the next afternoon.

When he finally dropped me off back at home, I had a long, detailed conversation about my night with my roommate.  We both decided he was definitely too good to be true and had to be either married or hiding some kind of criminal past.  Guys like this just don’t exist anymore!

In addition, with the extreme unlikelihood of our ever crossing paths and the so random and atypical circumstances of our chance meeting, there was this undeniably strong and uncanny feeling that somehow my dad had sent him to me.  This guy not only does the exact same type of work as my dad had done and got his training for said work in the military just as my dad had, but his every characteristic was precisely the type of man my dad always hoped I would meet, as well as encompassed the qualities of my dad which I respect and admire with all my heart (even the whole southern gentleman thing, which is my dad to a “T”).  To add to this coincidence, it turned out that his mother who had passed away a few years earlier, actually worked at my place of employment all her life, doing the exact same job as I!  It all seemed way too coincidental to really be random at all.

I was smitten (albeit nervous because of the whole too good to be true aspect) and fortunately enough, he was equally as smitten with me.

We’ve been doing the long distance thing which is not so easy.  However, he works for a major airline and flies free, so we have nearly every weekend together, so it could be far more difficult otherwise.  After a great deal of tragic family events, I’ve taken a temporary leave of absence from my job and come to stay with him in Atlanta to get away from all the stress and pain which lingers heavily in Michigan; to find healing and hopefully a sense of peace again in a place which feels safe and healthy.

Of course, we’re still getting to know each other more with every passing day and he’s certainly not perfect (thankfully, as I’m certainly not either…hahah), but he’s definitely handsome and kind; charming and manly; intelligent, interesting, funny, and has excellent standards, morals and ethics.

We are taking a cruise through the Virgin Islands at the end of this month.  I’m so excited!  Only time will tell what will happen next and meanwhile, I’m slowly but surely falling head over heels in love!

Soul searching…and spinning…

I couldn’t keep my discretion to myself.  I told Twin what happened with my old friend.  Twin was clearly hurt and quietly upset, but handled it well.  I almost thought maybe I hadn’t needed to even tell him, such was his quiet demeanor.  He asked a few basic questions, Was that Thursday when I couldn’t reach you?  Was that pack of cigarettes I asked you about his?

All of which I answered honestly:  Yes, yes, yes….  I’m so sorry.  I really feel horrible.  I’m sick to my stomach.  You deserve much better. So on and so on.

And Twin kept saying, we don’t have to talk about this right now.  I would respond, I’ll lose my nerve if we don’t.  I just feel so dirty and ashamed.

I felt even more like trash when I texted my friend and told him how guilty I felt for what had happened and that I’d felt my boyfriend deserved to know.  And my friend responded, WHAT?!!!   I wasn’t aware you were still dating him.  You didn’t mention it so I assumed you weren’t seeing him anymore or I never would have gone so far. I was hoping to keep seeing you, I just wanted to take it slow because there are kids involved. I really like being with you, sexually and otherwise.  I always have.

I just responded it wasn’t his fault, I was sorry and that I really had some soul searching to do.

OMG….I just suck.  Now, I’ve hurt two people!  And I never intended to hurt anyone!!

The next day Twin asked if we could talk again.  He came over and was so kind and understanding.  So much so, I  just felt worse and worse.  He asked if it was a test; was I testing him?  Did I have feelings for this guy?

I don’t know, Twin.  I’ve been friends with him so long, of course I have feelings for him, but I have no clue exactly what they are.  I mean, I have feelings for you too.  I really care so much about you and I don’t understand how this happened.

Twin talked about how he was scared of his feelings for me after all that his ex-wife had done.  He talked of being in love with me and how difficult it was for him to have such strong feelings. He asked if maybe this was his fault because he wasn’t excessively demonstrative of his feelings for me.

NO!  That’s not it, Twin.  You’re wonderful to me!  And I didn’t want to hear any of this. I just didn’t know the appropriate response.

Then Twin wants to make out…or more… or whatever!  AHHH GEESH! NO, NO, NO!!  WTF?!  This seriously annoys me and my guilt just quadruples at my annoyance.  Ughhhh….I can’t escape this disastrous mess!

Twin and I fall asleep on my sofa.  I’m restless though and have weird dreams and I awake around 4 AM to him trying to kiss me again….OMFG….NOOOOOOOO!

I make excuses and grab my phone.  There’s a text message from late the evening before after I had fallen asleep.  It’s my friend and he has simply texted, I think you and I should be together!  Or at least give it a try.

Whoaaaaaaaaa….my head starts spinning…reeling even!  And Twin is right next to me, so I close the text and toss the phone aside, trying to mask my serious shock and mass confusion.

I really need Twin to leave.  My thoughts, my emotions were swirling around so fast I felt like the world was turning so fast.

I knew there has always been a huge chemistry between my friend and I, from the moment we were introduced, there was electricity.  We had gone on a few dates years ago even after we first met, but I was still carrying on with my ex-boyfriend (THE ex….the absolute one and only love of my life), so I was emotionally unavailable to the extreme.  Thus, it never went anywhere, except to create some friction between friend and I for a while.

And since then, I’ve just never thought of dating friend.  Yeah, the attraction is undeniable and perhaps I should have realized that once my vastly resilient bond to THE ex-boyfriend loosened, that this might happen.  I just wasn’t thinking…..obviously.  I mean clearly NOT thinking AT ALL.

GAWDDDD, what a mess I’ve made!

Crazy Psycho Stalker Bitches UNITE

Running search engine terms stats in previous 24 hours:

M:  119

Nude midgets: 2 (and seriously, wtf does my blog have about THAT?)

Twizzlers: 1

Oh yeah...they're out there!

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.

Beyond cookies, odd coincidence or Fleetwood Mac

Fleetwood Mac “Rhiannon”

Mr. P is now to be referred to as Mr. C.  for Cookies.  I don’t know for sure what it is that felt off, but something did.

It started shortly after our first meeting when we became FB friends.  A day or so later, I receive an early morning text saying, ” I was looking through your FB pictures and I see you know Mary.  Mary is my oldest and dearest friend!”  I was not excitedone bit to learn we shared this mutual friend and I’ll tell you why.

It’s a pretty far out(as in crazy) story so I’ll try to cut it down to the most basic details in the interest of brevity.  I met Mary via another friend I was fairly close with; let’s call her Sybil.  Sybil and I were close friends/acquaintances for years.  Sybil was that crisis friend many of us know.  I’d go months and never hear from her and suddenly she’d pop up when her life was a mess…and her life was pretty much always a mess  or in between major “catastrophes”.  Always.  Sybil, however, took the “typical “crisis friend” to a whole new level all her own!

I may never understand why I was born with a savior complex: always feeling obligated to prove my loyalty, my love, my friendship, etc, etc.  I have learned the hard way though that this very trait seems to attract people like Sybil, people who border on the sociopathically self-centered side of character, pathological narcissists who merely collect people whom are naïve and/or stupid enough to fall for their chronic bullshit, repeated self-created dramas, and victim syndromes.

Sybil was one of my classic and most extreme cases of this.  She is, without a doubt, a pathological liar and a fairly high functioning drug addict.  Every one is merely a resource of some type to this woman. And she’s good!  She’s charming and cute, quite convincing, and very effective  at her game.  I also strongly suspect that she has Münchausen syndrome and/or  Munchausen by proxy syndrome, (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/M%C3%BCnchausen_syndrome ) as she or one of her three children is always at death’s door.  Although it’s hard for me to discern whether the symptoms she has of this rare disorder are actually from a mental illness itself or simply due to her extreme case of prescription drug addiction.  When you or one of your children is always suffering some extreme malady of sorts, typically you have access to painkillers either in your name or your children’s.  I’ve a sneaking hunch this aspect, as well as the attention received, is her biggest motivating force.

I fell for this game for years and often donated my own prescriptions to her various causes.  I’m not often willing or interested to take prescription strength pail relievers, so I’m an ideal “friend” for Sybil to have around at various dry spots in her addiction as well as a caring friend who goes above and beyond in most areas of friendship.

Toward the end of my 10 year friendship with Sybil, I met her friend Mary who had just returned from living in Alaska.  This was around the same time that Sybil had married a nurse she’d just met weeks earlier, allegedly this convenience marriage was only in order for Sybil to get health insurance (after all, she and her children are always seriously ill!).  A few months into this marriage, Sybil shows up at my house telling me how her husband was up on felony charges for prescription drug fraud.  Not only this, but he was cheating on her with his ex-wife!  And not only those two horrifying things, but she strongly suspected he was trying to kill her.  No, not figuratively, I mean literally, as in murder her!  There were stories of him hooking her up to IV’s in her sleep and preparing food for her that knocked her out for days while he sexually assaulted her.  Oh the stories got more horrifying and dangerous by the  day!

As crazy as this sounds in the telling and crazier yet that I’d fall for this, I did.  I invited Sybil and her three children to live with my family.  After all, this man was trying to kill her and he allegedly treated her children rather poorly as well.  And quite honestly, this wasn’t totally selfless, as I had recently been downsized by my non-profit employer and really needed a roommate anyway.  Sybil not only made very good money, but also collected a great deal of child support and would be a great person to split my household bills with.

Except, after paying for her move, buying her gas to get to work every day, supplying food for all four of them, as well as my own family and not receiving a penny of help for any of these expenses or others, Sybil still did not have any money.  Sadly(for Sybil), I could not afford to support us all for long on my meager unemployment  checks . In addition, after a few months of living together,  major cracks in her stories began to appear; to the extent that my daughters (who adored her and her children!) even began questioning Sybil’s stories and her character in general.  So when the “murderous” ex husband began coming around and after her 5 cats were destroying my beloved home, and I was totally running out of money for food and the mortgage, there was civil unrest in this household to say the least.  Shortly after I suggested she go back to her husband to work things out (they’d been “dating” since she moved in) , I discovered that Sybil had told him that I had charged her $3,000 per month plus expenses to live with me for two months!  In spite of the fact that I had asked her to contribute $500 a month and help with groceries…and never received a dime of that request.

Suffice to say, after the damage done to my home, the amount of money supporting her family cost me while she was banking mega bucks as I struggled to pay for our basic needs, and the damage done to the friendship by her chronic and hurtful lies to my children and me, this ordeal did not end well.  At all.  In addition, I came to the painful realization, that I had been duped on many levels for years by this woman!

Not a pretty story by which to know Mary, a mutual acquaintance of Mr. C’s, who I’ve not seen or spoken to since the crashing end to my friendship with Sybil.  I can only imagine the stories Mary’s been told by this sociopath!  I only know the horrifying stories I was told over the years of the various abuse Sybil always claimed she had suffered at any one of her friends’ or boyfriends’ hands through the years I’d known her.  Thus, I’m certain I’m now one of those sympathy “stories” for Sybil to tell future resources as well and I can’t imagine Mary has not heard this.

So, it was disheartening to say the least to find out my mutual friend with Mr. C was from this terrible ordeal.  And although it worried and bothered me, what do you say?  I mean really, what do you even begin to tell a relative stranger you’ve met about this kind of insane ordeal?

So of course, I didn’t tell him.  I said nothing except that Mary was a super great girl (and she is!).  I did notice Mr. C seemed far less interested in me after that little text.  He didn’t text as often as he had been previously and when he did, it wasn’t charming or funny, but more brief and to the point.  I tried to tell myself this was all in my head..that it was mere paranoia from that awful ordeal. Maybe Mary already knew what Sybil was really like and wouldn’t buy into any stories she’d heard anyway or maybe the few times she actually met me, she’d gotten a good enough sense of me as a person to at least have some doubts as to the veracity of any outlandish Sybil stories?  Or maybe even, Sybil had developed a conscience after she abused my friendship, my finances, and my home so much and she hadn’t told Mary any crazy lies about me trying to “kill her” or something so absurd like she tended to tell about the other people in her life? Haha… fat chance!

Anyway, back to Mr. C.  So, this seemed an unfavorable coincidence, but we still kept our cookie making date.  We made cookies and watched a movie.  Mr. C didn’t seem as chatty or fun as he had on our first date.  He got more talkative after my oldest and her friend came home while we were baking.  He seemed to enjoy talking to them far more than he did me.

Which brings me to another super odd coincidence:  On our first date, Mr. C had told me of a close female friend of his who was a single mom with four children.  Her (unforgettable) name was Rhiannon and they were the best of friends.  In fact, he often babysat for her children and had a close relationship with them.  Adorably endearing, right?  So, I didn’t forget this story he had shared.  Funny thing though, when my daughter came home around 9 PM with her schoolmate, Annie, Mr. C says to Annie, “you look so familiar, what’s your mom’s name?”   Annie answers, “Rhiannon” which was followed by an awkward silence.

Yeah.  Weird.  Still haven’t figured that one out.

I just wasn’t getting the sense that Mr. C was at all really into me, but I was still trying to keep it as fun as I could.  After the movie, the kids went to their room and he and I started a second movie.  I was surprised he wanted to stay for this, but okay, cool. Maybe I was reading him wrong…

We both fell asleep during the second movie.  We woke up thirsty around 3 AM.  I got us each some water and then he kissed me.  I was not expecting this after the “off” sense I was getting from him!  It was a nice kiss though…and we continued kissing for a while, progressing to more passionate kisses. This went on innocently enough til about 5 AM. I really kept expecting him to volunteer to leave…any minute….I mean this was fun, but gosh… two hours of making out at 3 AM is enough already.  I’m thinking to myself, this is just weird.  I really didn’t get the feeling all week or all night that he’s much into me, so what is this about?  And why doesn’t he leave??  I’m wondering this right around this time Mr. C goes for under the jeans, under the thong.  Hmmmm… was just NOT so sure how I was feeling about that.

Don’t get me wrong.  I’m not necessarily against sex on the second date or whenever really.  I’m more of a go with the moment if it feels right type of gal, whenever the moment feels right.  I see no need to put a specific time frame on when it’s right to do whatever.  It just is when it is…whenever that is.  Thus, as attracted as I felt to Mr. C and as much as I enjoyed making out with him.  All in all, after the past week of sudden quiet-ness and the odd disconnected sense throughout the evening, in all my confusion, I was sure of one thing, this time was not the right time to progress to anything under my jeans, much less under my thong!  Nope.  Not the right  moment. AT ALL!

And shortly after that maneuver, I told Mr. C it probably was time for him to leave.  There was a great deal of good-bye kissing too.  It was fun!  After he was gone, I just didn’t know what to think of everything.  Usually I get a clear sense of this kind of thing, but I really had no clue what the heck was going on, had gone on, or would go on from here.  One thing for certain though, his perfection in my mind was marred.  Not in a bad way really, just in that the odd sense I got from him really just created more questions than mystery and combined with his under the thong maneuver in the midst of it which really spoke volumes in my mind as to Mr C’s overall purpose.

I have not heard a word from Mr C since he left around 6 AM Sunday morning.  So, I’m guessing my initial sense of his “less than interested” stance must have been fairly accurate after all.

Ahhhhh…is everyone’s life so very strange?

Uhh Cupid, we have a problem!

So, I have issues.. yeah, issues… Luggage, baggage, psychological and emotional idiosyncracies… Ummm…whatever you wanna call ‘em. In fact, I’m pretty sure I have my fair share, your fair share, and a bit more for extra measure!
And I could go into detail about these, psychoanalyze why, who, what, and how they came about but really, does any of that matter? Well, other than making for a truly unbelievable (yeah unbelievable as in lierally, “I do not believe that’s true!”) story/post/biography, no, it just doesn’t matter. It is what it is. And at least, I’m aware I have major issues, so I hope I’m at least a tad ahead of the typical idiot idiosyncratic schmuck who is riddled with them and genuinely isn’t in touch with their own reality that something just isn’t quite “right”… That’s a bonus for me, right?
I’ve wanted to write for a while now of this great “thing” I have going with “J”… because it really is just great! Truly… However, while dealing with K’s suicide, I just haven’t been able to sit down and write. It’s as though I couldn’t bring myself to discuss trivial life matters with this blaring tragedy sitting on my heart…
But, I realize I can’t post for the next ten years on that… well, I could, yet no matter how fitting that seems to be in some ways…it’s just not and I must move on with writing of my original mission of this blog.
Dating.
I’ve been dating “J” and it’s terrific! In so many ways, he’s exactly what I wanted to find: a cool, fun, attractive, and interesting guy to hang out with/date, minus any pressure, stress or major drama… BINGO! I’ve found it! It just might be that I have, in fact, nailed some jello to the wall!
We’ve been having a fabulous time. He’s a valuable and amazing gem of a guy and he adores me… Awwwwwwwww…. No really, it’s quite precious and I consider myself a pretty luck chick to have snatched (and kept) his attention and adoration thus far.
We have long random discussions about world issues, life matters, and trivial ridiculous-like stuff. We have sex, we snuggle, and we play. We go to movies, rent movies, play games with friends. We are active and sometimes lazy. We have fun and then we are serious at times… It’s just a  super cool thing we have going on here and I really enjoy it, him, the relationship, etc, etc, etc… Yeah, it’s pretty much exactly what I had hoped to find when I began this journey/mission! Even the whole he-was-engaged-to-my-friend thing just hasn’t been a huge negative issue. We’ve told her and she seems okay with it. So, aside from some all too expected gossip from other obviously bored locals, there just hasn’t been any problems…at all. It’s been utterly terrific!

J is adorably nerdy like the character in "Juno"...what's not to love??

So….why in the hell would I want to complicate it? Ruin it? Drama-fy it? WHY??
Okay, the answer is I don’t. I don’t want to…I really, truly don’t…. but…..but…. omg… I swear I could complicate a game of freakin’ tic-tac-toe to the point of annoyance! WTF is my deal?? I can write a million posts picking on the guys in the dating pool out there, but the truth…the ugly down-n-dirty truth… is I’m not THAT much different than they when my idiosyncratic issues and frustrating-as-fuck-flaws come into the mix! Truth is, I’m a great chick with a lot of really kick ass stuff to offer a relationship, but I’m fucked… Yeah, at the nitty gritty of it all, I’m probably a bigger pain in the ass freak of nature than any of the weirdo’s I’ve written about here.
I’m so contradictory and I just can’t ever decipher if it’s the situation itself or if it’s really just me…
You know, I’m casually strutting toward the goal… I’m almost there..I can see it.. Hell, it’s so freakin’ close I can feel it; success, satisfaction, happiness….it’s there… just three more steps and it’s mine…. I can just skip along these last few feet….and skipping is so fun…
Do I throw the obstacles down on purpose? Or do I just forget the baggage that sits all around me in my excitement and then when I trip over them, I look around like “Did you just see that row of extra-large suitcases come at me outta nowhere?!” BAM! WTF?!
Because all I know is that I’m skipping along…grateful, happy, satisfied…and suddenly I trip…I trip from outta the blue, for seemingly no reason at all! I just hit this weird place, this ridiculous wall, this treacherous bump, this whacked out spot where the crazy-good amazingly beautiful planetary alignment from heaven that feels like beautiful fate falling into place just suddenly – without sense or warning… twists, turns, and flips…my thoughts, emotions, sanity get all jumbled up and I forget. I forget what I wanted, why I wanted it, and start to question if I ever even really wanted it at all…
Yeah….issues….yup…I got an abundance of ‘em…. Ohhhhh FUCK!!!
The problem here is that in the process of getting to know “J” better, I’ve also had the opportunity to get to know his friend “Jack” better… I won’t try to deny that I found Jack enormously attractive from the moment I met him. It just didn’t really matter that much because I already knew “J” and really liked what I knew. I wasn’t going to be deterred or lured away from my path to “J”. I wasn’t even interested in being deterred or lured. And then, it seems that most of my non-alone time with “J” also happens to typically include Jack. This is fabulous! Jack is F-U-N… So, I get to hang with the terrific J AND I get to hang with the fun, funny, HOT Jack…. Yeah, I’ve been lovin’ it!
And somewhere in the past few months of this, a week or so ago, I suddenly realized that I look forward to this shared time with Jack more than I care to admit. To the extent that when we are all in a group, J almost gets on my nerves….
It’s not quite that simple though because I still like J a lot, even in the midst of this mild near-annoyance thing. J is just so blasted likeable!!!! Yeah, he’s cute and sweetly adorable, kind and helpful, caring and smart. He’s definitely a total nerd…and I LOVE that!
Love it, love it, LOVE it…right up until the moment he’s held up in the light directly against Jack. Jack isn’t cute or handsome… Jack is freakin’ SEXY. Jack is the sensual “dark soul” with the sensitive side he thinks he hides so well, but actually it just gives me the urge to tempt him into bringing it out. He’s that bad ass, sarcastic, funny, tough as nails guy…mysteriously quiet, but an expert conversationalist when he chooses. And I don’t know exactly why, but we talk so easily to one another and I. Love. It!

...and Jack exhibits more of this kind of appeal....umm...OMFG!!

So, ummm…yeah, I secretly really look forward to these little spontaneous communiqués and I admit, it kinda nagged at me a bit how much I truly have begun enjoying this. That guilty feeling hits me every time “J” asks, do you mind if Jack joins us? Uhhh…nooooo…I don’t mind at all. In fact, please? Could he? Pretty please??
Okay, so I’ve been dealing with this (I think) effectively. I’ve started trying to pay ALL my attention to J in these situations and limit my attention to Jack. I’ve been focusing my thoughts during those times at all the incredibly wonderful and endearing traits of J and how much I adore him. This has worked…sorta…mostly…. Well, I was at least convincing myself it was.
…Until this past Monday. Monday, in a strange and unusual turn of events, Jack was called to my place of work for a civic duty…not something at all avoidable or by choice…totally and simply and absolutely just by chance. In fact, J had told me this was coming up and I casually blew it off. But I didn’t really…I took serious note of this information and deliberately took an off-the-typical-mark lunch hour, conscientiously and deliberately attempting to avoid any possibility of running into Jack sans J. Okay, I have this so under control here.
So, on Monday I take a very late lunch and while attempting to leave my office area, a very chatty co-worker engages me in idle chat. And she’s chatting…and chatting..and chatting… seems her husband had been called in for this civic duty as well and she’s just going on an on…and on…and on… Bless her heart! Finally, my stomach growls so loudly, I snatch the opportunity to say, Gosh, I really gotta go…I’m starving! And she lets me walk away..finally!
I’m coming down the hall, feeling so proud of how I’ve avoided getting myself into any wonderfully uncomfortable situations and as I round the bend by the elevators, my peripheral vision catches a familiar face stepping out of the elevator to my left.  A familiar sexy face with that adorable mischievous grin and that mysterious “dark” look all about him…
Yeah, it’s Jack. And what are the odds???? Seriously..wtf?!
So, I can’t politely (or with any explainable reason!) avoid this now. What am I supposed to say? Sorry Jack, I know we hang out together at least four nights a week and I date your friend, and we have become the best of friends in the process, buttttttt, I’m secretly so attracted to you that I would feel guilty having lunch with you or being in your presence without J…. Seriously, how could I say that? And how could I explain avoiding him? I so suck at coming up with on-the-spot excuses/fibs too…umm..what the hell do I DO now??
And so… yeah, Jack and Kay go have lunch together. A lovely lunch during which I desperately attempted to disguise my nervous secret with babbling silly chatter and laughed so hard at one point that I spewed lettuce toward his face. I can only say I’m really, REALLY fortunate Jack doesn’t know me much better or I’m pretty sure he’d have totally been on to the fact that something was up with me. I can only pray he didn’t though.
Anyway, it was a blast having lunch with Jack! I was flustered and attracted, and trying terribly hard to force myself out of any sense of attraction to this guy…and finally it was over. I thank him for a fun lunch and we say good bye. Me, hoping and praying that my attraction to him wasn’t blaring between the lines of my desperation to not feel or acknowledge, even inadvertently, this fucked up attraction.
I breathed a bit easier as I walked away from him. Phew…spending an hour “alone” with him and not blurting out my big secret was amazingly more difficult than I even had anticipated. Breathe….but it was over. I did it!! Yayy!! Breathe… Commence to my office and on with ignoring this unwanted, unplanned, unexpected, and unfortunate attraction to Jack..Get it back in freakin’ perspective…breathe…breathe…
No. It did not help! I could not get this man off my mind for the next six hours!!! As if it hadn’t already been a chronic challenge to keep my thoughts of him in appropriate perspective before our innocent little lunch, I was so light headed and distracted with thoughts of him now that I made more stupid mistakes in the next few hours at work than I have in all the weeks I have been there total……… because I had Jack on the brain… and sadly, I have ever since…just can’t seem to shake it…UGHH!
Eeeeeeeeeeek…OMG…what now?

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?