If I have a flaw, and I'm not saying that I do but it is within the realm of possibility, it is that I am too naive. And by naive, I don't mean that I am oblivious of the fact that evil exists and that people do bad things. I mean that I simply think that it is all happening with people that don't enter my life. Because of course, all the people in my life are evil-free.
Because I persist with this Pollyanna belief, I frequently give people the benefit of the doubt, sometimes even when they haven't earned it. Actually many times when they haven't earned it. I try very hard to not be judgemental and to remember that people have all kinds of experiences that I am not privy to, so maybe there is a good reason that they are doing something asinine and I just don't know. I used to drive Brad crazy when he would be in the middle of some road rage fit and I would wonder out loud if maybe that driver that just cut us off was really speeding to make it to the hospital to say goodbye to her dying grandmother. Or that it was an expectant dad late to meet his pregnant wife after her water broke. Or something equally out there and unlikely, but possible. It never calmed him down, but I like to think I made my point. (As I write this he is probably driving around somewhere screaming obscenities at little old lady drivers for being in the fast lane - but like I said, I am Pollyanna so let me believe my daydream)
I know that this doesn't at first sound like a huge flaw. And it really isn't a flaw that hurts anyone else in any way. It actually is usually pretty helpful to others. It is actually helpful specifically to the owner of a dark blue Vibe that cut me off last Wednesday (you know who you are....Euclid...Fisher...sparkling bright red Jeep? Ring any bells?) It is also typically beneficial to people that mess with me because I am quick to forgive and don't hold grudges. And then I let the same people mess with me in the same way and then - again - forgive and forget. Can you see how this may not be beneficial for me? Flaw.
But here is the thing. I secretly ( or not so secretly, since I am blogging it all away) love this about myself. I know that it gets me into trouble from time to time. I know that it makes me trust the wrong people and have faith in things that maybe most people would not. I know it is the reason it took me five years to get over this failed marriage and that it may have cost me a great relationship. I am aware that some people think it is naive, and silly, and even stupid. Just because I have this perspective doesn't mean that I am unaware of the flip side of the coin or oblivious to the fact that some people will take advantage. They do. And I know when then do, for the most part. But I can't bring myself to be any other way. At the end of the day, I only have to live with the decisions that I make. The way I look at it I have two choices - I could wallow in the negative and cynical all day, every day and maybe avoid getting hurt...OR... I could dwell in the positive and happy all day, every day and maybe get hurt. I choose option two.
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Monday, December 21, 2009
Kansas
I have John Black on the brain. Partly due to the holidays, but mainly because I saw him the other night. We went out driving, checking out holiday lights and talking. I haven't seen him (other than a totally random what-the-hey moment in Meijers one time) in well over a year. We do talk on the phone or on the great, big, social network giant of Facebook from time to time - so we pretty much keep up on each other's lives, but we haven't been face to face hanging out in a long, long time.
It was great, but a little weird. Like I just got time warped or something. It was late, dark, and as I climbed into his car (the same one he had when we were together) it was seriously like a mini time machine. It was the exact same scene that we had played out hundreds of times before - just with a big chunk of time missing in the middle. I can't even count the numbers of mini-adventures or drives we took in that car - we were a great road trip couple. With the exception of Kansas.
Kansas is by far the funniest car story I have with John Black. It is also the funniest travel story that I have with anyone. John Black has a brother that lives in Denver. About a year or so after we started dating, we decided to road trip out there so that I could meet them and he could see his niece and nephew. It was a great idea! But it was a loooooonng drive - one that we were determined to make in a straight shot, no stopping at a hotel along the way. Now, I am a fantastic road tripper. I am always the girl that scoops out the fun facts, has the driving guides, knows the best spot to stop for food, and I am an unparalleled navigator, even if cannot instantly tell you which is north at any given moment. (Hello people! That is what signs and maps are for!) However, I am not the best driver. I will say that I have gotten much, much better - but at this time in my life I still hated to drive at night or in crappy weather. I also hated to drive if I couldn't sing to the radio at the same time, which didn't please John Black when he was trying to sleep. So naturally we left at six o'clock at night in the rain.
There are two main routes you can use to get there; one northern that goes through Chicago and heads out towards Nebraska or another southern one that goes down to Indianapolis and heads west from there through Missouri. We decided to stick to the northern route because technically it was supposed to be a tad bit shorter. Here is what I remember from the drive there. Sitting in stand still traffic in Chicago among about fifty six gazillion truckers all trying to get through the city into the heartland and trying to decide over and over again if we were in the truck lane or the car lane. Listening to the Counting Crow's Hard Candy CD so many times that I probably was singing it in my sleep. The utter and complete darkness of middle America at night, where there are literally no major (or semi-major even) cities along our path from Chicago to Denver. Also, and this is important, there was a giant, green dinosaur that John Black wanted to climb on and get his picture taken. I begged to keep going because we were about twenty hours into our trip at this point and all I wanted to do was sleep. So we moved on, made it to our destination, and all without any serious issues. One week later - we climb back in the car to head home.
We decided that I would drive first, having learned our lesson on the way there after we both stayed awake in the beginning and I proved to be a bad second wind driver. So together we found our way to the highway junction in Denver, discovered our particular highway number, and John Black curled up in his bucket seat to sleep. I happily drove along, singing, of course. to Counting Crows as quietly as I could - thoughtfully skipping all the high notes so that John Black wouldn't wake up. (Which is a bigger sacrifice for a soprano than I think he appreciated.) I was faithfully following my highway number which was supposed to stay the same for at least the length of a state or two. All was calm until about just before dawn. The sun was just starting to peek up through the corn fields when John Black woke up, yawned and asked how my night shift went. I gave him the good news first - we were making truly excellent time. Then I gave him the bad news - we're in Kansas, Dorothy.
I will give you a quick moment to consult your mental atlas - or go find a physical one if you haven't had geography in many years. Kansas is not on our northern route. Not even one teeny, tinsy tip of Kansas touched our northern route. John Black was understandably confused and pissy. Not the way to start off a day where you are trapped in a car with each other. When we had left Denver, I had on-ramped my happy little self onto the right highway BUT I took the southern ramp, not the northern one. If you have driven around Denver, you understand this is a completely believable accident. There are highways everywhere! But on this morning, John Black was not in an understanding mood. We stopped at several different backwoods gas stations - you know, the kind with two working pumps and a 'convenience' store full of hunting supplies and camo souvenirs? Have I mentioned John Black is the antithesis of Hunting Man? So the grizzly gas station attendants basically laughed at us, shook their heads at John Black's awful luck to be stuck with a woman that did this to him, and told us we might as well keep on trucking on the southern route because we were already parallel to our old route and it would just add a few hours to our trip if we tried to cut across and rejoin the northern highway.
Now I looked at it like we got the unexpected bonus of seeing the sites in about five new states - to this day I love unplanned exploring jaunts. John Black looked at it like he wanted to wring my neck. It ended up taking us almost six hours longer to get home; mainly because we were so exhausted we ended up stopping many more times that on the way out there - we even got all the way to Flint and literally neither one of us could finish the drive so we slept in a truck stop in Flint. Yup. Flint. Truck stop. And we lived to tell the story. It also took us a while because we were completely stymied by the belt loop of Indianapolis. By the time we figured out that the highway circled the city, our sleep deprived brains already let us go around it twice. (In my defense as a navigator, we had no plans to be in Indianapolis, so I had no fun facts or maps.) We also stopped in Missouri at literally the best Pizza Hut in the United States. I think it was so good that we said if we drove again we would go south simply to have that Pizza Hut again, it was that good. Okay, maybe that is a lie, but it seriously was the best cheesy bread we have ever had to this day.
So what lessons did I learn from this adventure? One. Get cheesy bread in Missouri. Two. Bring more CD's. Three. Always get extra navigational tools for the times when you take a wrong turn and end up in Kansas. And Four. If you don't let John Black stop for the crazy, green dinosaur picture on the way to Denver, promise him you'll get it on the way home, and then subsequently miss that state on the way home.....you will hear about it for the rest of your life.
It was great, but a little weird. Like I just got time warped or something. It was late, dark, and as I climbed into his car (the same one he had when we were together) it was seriously like a mini time machine. It was the exact same scene that we had played out hundreds of times before - just with a big chunk of time missing in the middle. I can't even count the numbers of mini-adventures or drives we took in that car - we were a great road trip couple. With the exception of Kansas.
Kansas is by far the funniest car story I have with John Black. It is also the funniest travel story that I have with anyone. John Black has a brother that lives in Denver. About a year or so after we started dating, we decided to road trip out there so that I could meet them and he could see his niece and nephew. It was a great idea! But it was a loooooonng drive - one that we were determined to make in a straight shot, no stopping at a hotel along the way. Now, I am a fantastic road tripper. I am always the girl that scoops out the fun facts, has the driving guides, knows the best spot to stop for food, and I am an unparalleled navigator, even if cannot instantly tell you which is north at any given moment. (Hello people! That is what signs and maps are for!) However, I am not the best driver. I will say that I have gotten much, much better - but at this time in my life I still hated to drive at night or in crappy weather. I also hated to drive if I couldn't sing to the radio at the same time, which didn't please John Black when he was trying to sleep. So naturally we left at six o'clock at night in the rain.
There are two main routes you can use to get there; one northern that goes through Chicago and heads out towards Nebraska or another southern one that goes down to Indianapolis and heads west from there through Missouri. We decided to stick to the northern route because technically it was supposed to be a tad bit shorter. Here is what I remember from the drive there. Sitting in stand still traffic in Chicago among about fifty six gazillion truckers all trying to get through the city into the heartland and trying to decide over and over again if we were in the truck lane or the car lane. Listening to the Counting Crow's Hard Candy CD so many times that I probably was singing it in my sleep. The utter and complete darkness of middle America at night, where there are literally no major (or semi-major even) cities along our path from Chicago to Denver. Also, and this is important, there was a giant, green dinosaur that John Black wanted to climb on and get his picture taken. I begged to keep going because we were about twenty hours into our trip at this point and all I wanted to do was sleep. So we moved on, made it to our destination, and all without any serious issues. One week later - we climb back in the car to head home.
We decided that I would drive first, having learned our lesson on the way there after we both stayed awake in the beginning and I proved to be a bad second wind driver. So together we found our way to the highway junction in Denver, discovered our particular highway number, and John Black curled up in his bucket seat to sleep. I happily drove along, singing, of course. to Counting Crows as quietly as I could - thoughtfully skipping all the high notes so that John Black wouldn't wake up. (Which is a bigger sacrifice for a soprano than I think he appreciated.) I was faithfully following my highway number which was supposed to stay the same for at least the length of a state or two. All was calm until about just before dawn. The sun was just starting to peek up through the corn fields when John Black woke up, yawned and asked how my night shift went. I gave him the good news first - we were making truly excellent time. Then I gave him the bad news - we're in Kansas, Dorothy.
I will give you a quick moment to consult your mental atlas - or go find a physical one if you haven't had geography in many years. Kansas is not on our northern route. Not even one teeny, tinsy tip of Kansas touched our northern route. John Black was understandably confused and pissy. Not the way to start off a day where you are trapped in a car with each other. When we had left Denver, I had on-ramped my happy little self onto the right highway BUT I took the southern ramp, not the northern one. If you have driven around Denver, you understand this is a completely believable accident. There are highways everywhere! But on this morning, John Black was not in an understanding mood. We stopped at several different backwoods gas stations - you know, the kind with two working pumps and a 'convenience' store full of hunting supplies and camo souvenirs? Have I mentioned John Black is the antithesis of Hunting Man? So the grizzly gas station attendants basically laughed at us, shook their heads at John Black's awful luck to be stuck with a woman that did this to him, and told us we might as well keep on trucking on the southern route because we were already parallel to our old route and it would just add a few hours to our trip if we tried to cut across and rejoin the northern highway.
Now I looked at it like we got the unexpected bonus of seeing the sites in about five new states - to this day I love unplanned exploring jaunts. John Black looked at it like he wanted to wring my neck. It ended up taking us almost six hours longer to get home; mainly because we were so exhausted we ended up stopping many more times that on the way out there - we even got all the way to Flint and literally neither one of us could finish the drive so we slept in a truck stop in Flint. Yup. Flint. Truck stop. And we lived to tell the story. It also took us a while because we were completely stymied by the belt loop of Indianapolis. By the time we figured out that the highway circled the city, our sleep deprived brains already let us go around it twice. (In my defense as a navigator, we had no plans to be in Indianapolis, so I had no fun facts or maps.) We also stopped in Missouri at literally the best Pizza Hut in the United States. I think it was so good that we said if we drove again we would go south simply to have that Pizza Hut again, it was that good. Okay, maybe that is a lie, but it seriously was the best cheesy bread we have ever had to this day.
So what lessons did I learn from this adventure? One. Get cheesy bread in Missouri. Two. Bring more CD's. Three. Always get extra navigational tools for the times when you take a wrong turn and end up in Kansas. And Four. If you don't let John Black stop for the crazy, green dinosaur picture on the way to Denver, promise him you'll get it on the way home, and then subsequently miss that state on the way home.....you will hear about it for the rest of your life.
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Inconsistent Blogger...Thy Name is.....Me.
So the holidays are not the best time for my mental clarity. (On a brief side note, the 'C' key on my computer is wacky today, so I apologize in advance for any missing 'C's) Holidays mess with my brain in so many ways that I really should consider taking an extended vacation through the majority of December just for the sake of mental health. Part of this is, of course, divorce related. And some of it is just my personal neurosis being taunted by all the holiday cliches.
The thing about the holidays post divorce that bug me aren't the things that most people would think. I actually sincerely believe that holidays are much, much easier as a single than as a couple. Holidays as a couple, at least in my experience, involve so much compromise that some years I really felt like everyone got what they wanted for Christmas - but Brad and I. We were always on this strict time schedule to make sure that no family members felt neglected that we barely had a minute for ourselves. We, more often than not, exchanged Christmas presents at six in the morning on Christmas Day after our alarm blared us awake so we could make present opening at my mom's for seven, dinner at one, and Busia's house at four. And this was after a Christmas party the night before at his families followed my midnight Mass. No, the things I miss about a married Christmas have nothing to do with actual 'couple time'. Here is what I miss. Being in the middle of a crazy family or work party and looking up to catch his eye over some inside joke. Whether it be a remark that we can't believe someone just said or an accident that almost happened when a young cousin almost undercut an uncle as she ran blindly down the hall in a fit of Christmas glee and sugar. Those moments are the ones that make me feel like I am really divorced. Those moments are sneaky. You don't even see them coming, which makes them dangerous.
My personality also does not lend itself to stable holiday mental health. I am a bit of a control freak - and it seems to be getting worse with age unfortunately. I am sure that a shrink could tell me all about how losing control of my marriage has made me cling for control in the rest of my life - but I will just save myself the three hundred bucks and admit it. I own it. I know it is true. Yet, some days it does still get the better of me. In any situation, I need to be able to know the outcome. I want to have planned out how it is going to work, I want to know all the details of the progression, and I want everyone to unequivocally accept my opinion and direction as all knowing. This does not happen often. During the holidays, this happens even less, if that is possible. There are always five hundred people(maybe a bit of an exaggeration) trying to organize or plan or execute something - and I always just know the very best way to do it if they would just listen! And yes, I know how that sounds, thus why I list it as one of my flaws....I am self aware, but accepting.
I am also a bit over the top. I tend to throw myself into situations head first and then wallow in them. Case in point - Christmas decorations. I have enough decorations to decorate a house twice this size - and last year I dragged them all out, making our home a little snowman shrine. I also brought home a huge, live tree that took up a majority of our living room and shorted out the lights because I insisted on lighting every branch on the tree. The living room became the 'walkway between the front door and the kitchen', not the 'living room' because there was no room for actual living. I follow this same train of thought when it comes to shopping, baking, and Christmas cards. I always want to do the most that I can - which is pretty much impossible and can only lead to guilt fueled ingesting of cut out cookies and fudge. It's an ugly circle. This year I am trying to reduce the stress - I don't even have a tree yet! It remains to be seen how successful I am.
So between the post-divorce psychosis and my control-freak-all-or-nothing personality, I tend to not be at my best for constructing timely, amusing posts. Forgive me, pray for my sanity, and - if I don't make it - eat a tree shaped, bedazzled cut out cookie in my honor.
The thing about the holidays post divorce that bug me aren't the things that most people would think. I actually sincerely believe that holidays are much, much easier as a single than as a couple. Holidays as a couple, at least in my experience, involve so much compromise that some years I really felt like everyone got what they wanted for Christmas - but Brad and I. We were always on this strict time schedule to make sure that no family members felt neglected that we barely had a minute for ourselves. We, more often than not, exchanged Christmas presents at six in the morning on Christmas Day after our alarm blared us awake so we could make present opening at my mom's for seven, dinner at one, and Busia's house at four. And this was after a Christmas party the night before at his families followed my midnight Mass. No, the things I miss about a married Christmas have nothing to do with actual 'couple time'. Here is what I miss. Being in the middle of a crazy family or work party and looking up to catch his eye over some inside joke. Whether it be a remark that we can't believe someone just said or an accident that almost happened when a young cousin almost undercut an uncle as she ran blindly down the hall in a fit of Christmas glee and sugar. Those moments are the ones that make me feel like I am really divorced. Those moments are sneaky. You don't even see them coming, which makes them dangerous.
My personality also does not lend itself to stable holiday mental health. I am a bit of a control freak - and it seems to be getting worse with age unfortunately. I am sure that a shrink could tell me all about how losing control of my marriage has made me cling for control in the rest of my life - but I will just save myself the three hundred bucks and admit it. I own it. I know it is true. Yet, some days it does still get the better of me. In any situation, I need to be able to know the outcome. I want to have planned out how it is going to work, I want to know all the details of the progression, and I want everyone to unequivocally accept my opinion and direction as all knowing. This does not happen often. During the holidays, this happens even less, if that is possible. There are always five hundred people(maybe a bit of an exaggeration) trying to organize or plan or execute something - and I always just know the very best way to do it if they would just listen! And yes, I know how that sounds, thus why I list it as one of my flaws....I am self aware, but accepting.
I am also a bit over the top. I tend to throw myself into situations head first and then wallow in them. Case in point - Christmas decorations. I have enough decorations to decorate a house twice this size - and last year I dragged them all out, making our home a little snowman shrine. I also brought home a huge, live tree that took up a majority of our living room and shorted out the lights because I insisted on lighting every branch on the tree. The living room became the 'walkway between the front door and the kitchen', not the 'living room' because there was no room for actual living. I follow this same train of thought when it comes to shopping, baking, and Christmas cards. I always want to do the most that I can - which is pretty much impossible and can only lead to guilt fueled ingesting of cut out cookies and fudge. It's an ugly circle. This year I am trying to reduce the stress - I don't even have a tree yet! It remains to be seen how successful I am.
So between the post-divorce psychosis and my control-freak-all-or-nothing personality, I tend to not be at my best for constructing timely, amusing posts. Forgive me, pray for my sanity, and - if I don't make it - eat a tree shaped, bedazzled cut out cookie in my honor.
Monday, December 7, 2009
Success Stories (For JAG)
So a comment was made on my last post about how I seem to be dwelling on the failures and mistakes that I have made, when I should be crowing about all my successes. Let me leave you with no doubt - I definitely crow about my successes people. There just seems to be much more humor in the failings - and I am someone that can see the funny, even if it is at my expense. But in the interest of balance, here are my favorite success stories - post Brad.
Buying my Jeep. Now, just to be clear, I am NOT a car girl. I don't like anything to do with it really, and more often than not, I still try to sweet talk my brothers or my dad into changing my oil or my windshield wipers. Also, I have been letting my younger sister Libby 'practice' pumping gas since she was about twelve. Mechanics and I are just not close friends. When Brad and I were together, he always decided on our cars because he was car crazy. The only comment I ever made was that I really like the Jeep Cherokees - but Brad vetoed, and I pretty much forgot about it. Until we split. And he started stealing my brand new Grand Prix from my work and my driveway with the help of these hip, fun (immature, stupid) new friends of his that thought his wife was a real drag. Then I decided why not let him keep it? And the four hundred dollar payment it came with as well. He really didn't think that one through very well. So he ended up with all the car payments on all our vehicles (I admit that I got some joy out of this) and I went out and bought a bright red Jeep Cherokee. Which I still have and love today. I love it so much that when it gets creaky and arthritic, I am just going to buy a new one just like it. Success.
Painting my house. Now even I can admit that taking the house on by myself just so Brad wouldn't move some girl into my old home was mostly error. I have many more fail stories about that than successes. EXCEPT about this. I am a phenomenal painter. Really. My dad is a handy kind of man - and I think that parts of that must be genetic because I really like to paint. Here is the only rule: I need to be painting an actual color. Brad was a huge fan of beige, beige, beige.....we painted our bedroom the softest blue that I think they can make and that was out of his comfort zone. The rest of our house was various colors of tan, paneling, or old lady wallpaper left on from the previous owner - who was, in fact, an old lady. When Brad started fooling around, my sister and I began. We stripped the bathroom wallpaper and rag-rolled lilac on purple everywhere. We replaced the floor and re-finished the countertop. And it didn't stop there. My bedroom went pink with these great billowy, flowery curtain that looked like a rose garden - supremely girly. My kitchen became fire engine red with walnut trim and cupboards. My living room carpet got dragged to the curb so that I could play with the original dark wood floor underneath and then I painted all the walls and old, dark paneling this bright, warm, sunflower yellow. There wasn't a neutral wall left in the entire house and I loved it. It was completely me by the time I was done. Success.
Finding out how to do it all on my own. And here is the secret to this one. I don't really. But I did need to learn how to manage my life when it was only me keeping track of it. Do I still ask for help? Of course! But I don't need a man by my side to make sure that I get it. I have the strongest support system of friends and family that a girl could ask for - and now I am smart enough to ask for help if I am out of my league. Prime example. Yesterday my furnace/boiler (yup I have no idea for sure what is down there - and I'm not ashamed) was acting up and my house was freezing when I woke up. I have no clue why or how to fix it. Before eight in the morning, three people offered up their houses for me to take the babies to for the day. My dad left work to come over and check it out. Another friend called me before lunch to hook me up with a guy who could figure it out for me quickly and with a good deal and offered to call him up for me. My brother got out of work and told me to call him if it didn't work when I got home and he'd come figure it out. On the way home, another friend gave me the name of another good service man who was trustworthy and told me to call him if anything didn't work out and he'd come look at it for me. This is all within the space of about eight hours. I have truly amazing people in my life (Love you all!) and what could have been a huge stressful event became a minor inconvience for the day. A few years ago, this event would have destroyed my whole week - at a minimum. I would have been a basketcase, thinking this was one more example of how my life was broken now without a husband. One more sign that I coudn't do it alone. Looking back, I have such compassion and sympathy for that version of myself - almost like I am looking at just some random person that I wish I could help. It is nice to see how far I am from that place. If I were still with Brad, I would still be that girl. Standing on my own two feet - Success.
Buying my Jeep. Now, just to be clear, I am NOT a car girl. I don't like anything to do with it really, and more often than not, I still try to sweet talk my brothers or my dad into changing my oil or my windshield wipers. Also, I have been letting my younger sister Libby 'practice' pumping gas since she was about twelve. Mechanics and I are just not close friends. When Brad and I were together, he always decided on our cars because he was car crazy. The only comment I ever made was that I really like the Jeep Cherokees - but Brad vetoed, and I pretty much forgot about it. Until we split. And he started stealing my brand new Grand Prix from my work and my driveway with the help of these hip, fun (immature, stupid) new friends of his that thought his wife was a real drag. Then I decided why not let him keep it? And the four hundred dollar payment it came with as well. He really didn't think that one through very well. So he ended up with all the car payments on all our vehicles (I admit that I got some joy out of this) and I went out and bought a bright red Jeep Cherokee. Which I still have and love today. I love it so much that when it gets creaky and arthritic, I am just going to buy a new one just like it. Success.
Painting my house. Now even I can admit that taking the house on by myself just so Brad wouldn't move some girl into my old home was mostly error. I have many more fail stories about that than successes. EXCEPT about this. I am a phenomenal painter. Really. My dad is a handy kind of man - and I think that parts of that must be genetic because I really like to paint. Here is the only rule: I need to be painting an actual color. Brad was a huge fan of beige, beige, beige.....we painted our bedroom the softest blue that I think they can make and that was out of his comfort zone. The rest of our house was various colors of tan, paneling, or old lady wallpaper left on from the previous owner - who was, in fact, an old lady. When Brad started fooling around, my sister and I began. We stripped the bathroom wallpaper and rag-rolled lilac on purple everywhere. We replaced the floor and re-finished the countertop. And it didn't stop there. My bedroom went pink with these great billowy, flowery curtain that looked like a rose garden - supremely girly. My kitchen became fire engine red with walnut trim and cupboards. My living room carpet got dragged to the curb so that I could play with the original dark wood floor underneath and then I painted all the walls and old, dark paneling this bright, warm, sunflower yellow. There wasn't a neutral wall left in the entire house and I loved it. It was completely me by the time I was done. Success.
Finding out how to do it all on my own. And here is the secret to this one. I don't really. But I did need to learn how to manage my life when it was only me keeping track of it. Do I still ask for help? Of course! But I don't need a man by my side to make sure that I get it. I have the strongest support system of friends and family that a girl could ask for - and now I am smart enough to ask for help if I am out of my league. Prime example. Yesterday my furnace/boiler (yup I have no idea for sure what is down there - and I'm not ashamed) was acting up and my house was freezing when I woke up. I have no clue why or how to fix it. Before eight in the morning, three people offered up their houses for me to take the babies to for the day. My dad left work to come over and check it out. Another friend called me before lunch to hook me up with a guy who could figure it out for me quickly and with a good deal and offered to call him up for me. My brother got out of work and told me to call him if it didn't work when I got home and he'd come figure it out. On the way home, another friend gave me the name of another good service man who was trustworthy and told me to call him if anything didn't work out and he'd come look at it for me. This is all within the space of about eight hours. I have truly amazing people in my life (Love you all!) and what could have been a huge stressful event became a minor inconvience for the day. A few years ago, this event would have destroyed my whole week - at a minimum. I would have been a basketcase, thinking this was one more example of how my life was broken now without a husband. One more sign that I coudn't do it alone. Looking back, I have such compassion and sympathy for that version of myself - almost like I am looking at just some random person that I wish I could help. It is nice to see how far I am from that place. If I were still with Brad, I would still be that girl. Standing on my own two feet - Success.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Trial and Error
For me, life after divorce is very much trial and error. There really almost isn't any other way it could be. Because I married Brad so young all of my adult dreams, goals, and ambitions were OUR goals, dreams, and ambitions. I never bothered to create any dreams that didn't include him. (Go ahead and lambaste me all you feminists, but be kind and remember I was young and naive please) When we split, I didn't just lose Brad, but I lost my roadmap of how my life was supposed to unfold, pretty much dumping me in the this alternate Bermuda triangle world that I was completely inept at navigating. As time went on, I learned through trial and error what things worked for just me - not me as half of StephanieAndBrad - but me only. For the first time in pretty much forever, I had to think somewhat selfishly and figure out what worked for me in decisions big and small. Along the way were some pretty funny errors.
Letting my gas tank get perilously low while just expecting some miraculous husband stunt double to come running and fill it - Error.
Continuing to run my checking account like my ex was still paying my bills and the rest was just 'spending money' - Error.
Thinking I am super cool because I can eat dinner at ten o'clock at night if I want now - and then getting sick at two in the morning because I am too old for pretending that I still have the iron stomach of a twenty year old - Error.
Believing that my grass will just stop growing once it gets to a certain height and then stay that way until winter so I don't need to mow it anymore - Error.
Really believing that single men are interested in a tour of my house because they want to see what I've done with the place - Error.
Thinking that once we were split, all the drama with Brad was at least finally over - Error.
Using the strategy of staying in my house all day as a way to make a day never happen - Error.
Throwing out all my dishes in favor of paper plates because it would make life easier and less stressful - Error.
Trusting my feelings and thoughts to people that I only saw when I was drinking or dancing - Error.
Saying exactly what I thought, exactly when I thought it, to any random stranger to emphasize how much better stark honesty is - Error.
Continuing to try new things, forgiving myself for my (many) mistakes, laughing at life and those many mistakes, and believing that life truly unfolds that way that it is meant to be.....I'll get back to you...
Letting my gas tank get perilously low while just expecting some miraculous husband stunt double to come running and fill it - Error.
Continuing to run my checking account like my ex was still paying my bills and the rest was just 'spending money' - Error.
Thinking I am super cool because I can eat dinner at ten o'clock at night if I want now - and then getting sick at two in the morning because I am too old for pretending that I still have the iron stomach of a twenty year old - Error.
Believing that my grass will just stop growing once it gets to a certain height and then stay that way until winter so I don't need to mow it anymore - Error.
Really believing that single men are interested in a tour of my house because they want to see what I've done with the place - Error.
Thinking that once we were split, all the drama with Brad was at least finally over - Error.
Using the strategy of staying in my house all day as a way to make a day never happen - Error.
Throwing out all my dishes in favor of paper plates because it would make life easier and less stressful - Error.
Trusting my feelings and thoughts to people that I only saw when I was drinking or dancing - Error.
Saying exactly what I thought, exactly when I thought it, to any random stranger to emphasize how much better stark honesty is - Error.
Continuing to try new things, forgiving myself for my (many) mistakes, laughing at life and those many mistakes, and believing that life truly unfolds that way that it is meant to be.....I'll get back to you...
Thursday, November 26, 2009
I Am Thankful For....
1. I am thankful that because I am single, I don't have to rush around on Thanksgiving. I spent years trying to negotiate coordinating dinner times, organize what dish to pass where, and jam-pack my turkey day from sun up to sun down. Getting up this morning and vegging in my pjs because I don't have to be anywhere is pretty priceless.
2. I am thankful that I get to do everything my way. I know that sounds awful, but that is probably just because you are being grouchy because you have to compromise something. It's okay. But in my house today....all is quiet, my holiday music is on, my turkey is being cooked the way I want with no interference, my candles are all lit, and life is incredibly peaceful. I want to spend my early afternoon curled up on the sofa with a comfy blanket and a good book - so that is what I am going to do. Happy Thanksgiving to me!
3. I am thankful for holiday television. The parade, the beginnings of holiday festivities, but mostly for Charlie Brown holiday specials. Sitting down to watch cartoons is great for putting life into perspective. And I have a certain fondness for Lucy. With her single mindedness, her domineering and slightly bossy ways....Lucy may remind me, in a teensy way, of myself. Although I would eventually let poor Charlie kick the football. Probably.
4. I am thankful for my Jens...the real one and the pretend one. Especially to the real one for helping me out on a busy holiday (she is one of those balancing family people mentioned in point #1 haha...) with a special shout out to her hubbie who refused to let me cave to pressure from my mother to boil a ham. You guys rock.
5. I am thankful for my puppies, who are both currently cuddled up on the couch up against my legs. Non-dog people will not understand this, but the unconditional love of an animal is a marvelous gift. When I was young and dumb, they were there. When I was married and clueless, they were there. When I was divorced and unhappy, they were there. Now that I am single and happy, they are still there. That is why they get special turkey day treats.
6. I am thankful for my amazing circle of friends. I have so many people that care about me and are part of my life. I am blessed to have all of them there for me on a rough Saturday night - although some of them really should probably reel me in from time to time.
7. I am incredibly thankful to my family. More so than I can explain with words in this blog. Most families are not like mine. I hear stories all the time of siblings that don't talk, parents that write their kids off, and families that rarely see each other. While sometimes it can be crazy to have a sibling or parent in my business all the time (I love you all, but I speak the truth here), that also means that at every down moment in life there is someone there for me. That support and faith and love has truly brought me to the place that I am today. No girl was ever luckier.
2. I am thankful that I get to do everything my way. I know that sounds awful, but that is probably just because you are being grouchy because you have to compromise something. It's okay. But in my house today....all is quiet, my holiday music is on, my turkey is being cooked the way I want with no interference, my candles are all lit, and life is incredibly peaceful. I want to spend my early afternoon curled up on the sofa with a comfy blanket and a good book - so that is what I am going to do. Happy Thanksgiving to me!
3. I am thankful for holiday television. The parade, the beginnings of holiday festivities, but mostly for Charlie Brown holiday specials. Sitting down to watch cartoons is great for putting life into perspective. And I have a certain fondness for Lucy. With her single mindedness, her domineering and slightly bossy ways....Lucy may remind me, in a teensy way, of myself. Although I would eventually let poor Charlie kick the football. Probably.
4. I am thankful for my Jens...the real one and the pretend one. Especially to the real one for helping me out on a busy holiday (she is one of those balancing family people mentioned in point #1 haha...) with a special shout out to her hubbie who refused to let me cave to pressure from my mother to boil a ham. You guys rock.
5. I am thankful for my puppies, who are both currently cuddled up on the couch up against my legs. Non-dog people will not understand this, but the unconditional love of an animal is a marvelous gift. When I was young and dumb, they were there. When I was married and clueless, they were there. When I was divorced and unhappy, they were there. Now that I am single and happy, they are still there. That is why they get special turkey day treats.
6. I am thankful for my amazing circle of friends. I have so many people that care about me and are part of my life. I am blessed to have all of them there for me on a rough Saturday night - although some of them really should probably reel me in from time to time.
7. I am incredibly thankful to my family. More so than I can explain with words in this blog. Most families are not like mine. I hear stories all the time of siblings that don't talk, parents that write their kids off, and families that rarely see each other. While sometimes it can be crazy to have a sibling or parent in my business all the time (I love you all, but I speak the truth here), that also means that at every down moment in life there is someone there for me. That support and faith and love has truly brought me to the place that I am today. No girl was ever luckier.
Monday, November 23, 2009
I Call My Guardian Angel Delilah
I sometimes think that I am really wearing out my guardian angel. All the other angels are floating, singing, and keeping half an eye on their charges. Mine is the one charging around, dripping sweat, and cutting deals with other angels to keep me in one piece. (Which I so appreciate, by the way, Delilah)
Last week was a toughie. ( I wish that I could insert music notes in here and fake sing the "iiiits a tough-ie" television jingle at this point, but I am not tech savvy enough to pull that off.) I mentioned that Brad was on my shit list last week one day - and now he has climbed to the top of the list, picked up all the other candidates and thrown them off the list. He wants the list all to himself apparently. One of the cons of being in touch with an ex is that they really, really know how to push your buttons. Thus why I should remove my buttons from his reach really. Again, lesson learning the hard way....
So, after my buttons were pushed I proceeded to follow standard operating procedure and make a few bad choices. We don't really need to get into those exact choices, I am all about not embarrassing myself further than I already have to this point. Although I will say that pizza really doesn't qualify as a bad choice if you take it ingredient by ingredient. Just saying. And I do wish that over indulging in pepperoni was the worst of my bad choices. Unfortunately.....no. However, let's not dwell on my idiotic moments. I already paid my price for my mild debauchery. (It was roughly eighty bucks and about two hours of time that, sadly, I can never get back.) After a suitable wallowing period, I am moving on...
And here is my moving on song. I have a hard time forgiving myself for my mistakes - which would probably surprise my exes since I do tend to always think I am right. This song is by a Christian group called Point of Grace called 'Heal the Wound'. It just reminds me that we are all only human. We all make our own mistakes, learn our own lessons, and then build on them to become the person we are meant to be.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hy7I5gMEKEQ
.....hmmm, I tried to embed this but, as previously mentioned, tech savvy I am not. You will just have to old-fashioned cut and paste - enjoy!
I used to wish that I could rewrite history
I used to dream that each mistake could be erased
Then I could just pretend
I never knew the me back then
I used to pray that You would take this shame away
Hide all the evidence of who I've been
But it's the memory of
The place You brought me from
That keeps me on my knees
And even though I'm free
Heal the wound but leave the scar
A reminder of how merciful You are
I am broken, torn apart
Take the pieces of this heart
And heal the wound but leave the scar
I have not lived a life that boasts of anything
I don't take pride in what I bring
But I'll build an altar with
The rubble that You've found me in
And every stone will sing
Of what You can redeem
Heal the wound but leave the scar
A reminder of how merciful You are
I am broken, torn apart
Take the pieces of this heart
And heal the wound but leave the scar
Don't let me forget
Everything You've done for me
Don't let me forget
The beauty in the suffering
Heal the wound but leave the scar
A reminder of how merciful You are
I am broken, torn apart
Take the pieces of this heart
And heal the wound but leave the scar
Last week was a toughie. ( I wish that I could insert music notes in here and fake sing the "iiiits a tough-ie" television jingle at this point, but I am not tech savvy enough to pull that off.) I mentioned that Brad was on my shit list last week one day - and now he has climbed to the top of the list, picked up all the other candidates and thrown them off the list. He wants the list all to himself apparently. One of the cons of being in touch with an ex is that they really, really know how to push your buttons. Thus why I should remove my buttons from his reach really. Again, lesson learning the hard way....
So, after my buttons were pushed I proceeded to follow standard operating procedure and make a few bad choices. We don't really need to get into those exact choices, I am all about not embarrassing myself further than I already have to this point. Although I will say that pizza really doesn't qualify as a bad choice if you take it ingredient by ingredient. Just saying. And I do wish that over indulging in pepperoni was the worst of my bad choices. Unfortunately.....no. However, let's not dwell on my idiotic moments. I already paid my price for my mild debauchery. (It was roughly eighty bucks and about two hours of time that, sadly, I can never get back.) After a suitable wallowing period, I am moving on...
And here is my moving on song. I have a hard time forgiving myself for my mistakes - which would probably surprise my exes since I do tend to always think I am right. This song is by a Christian group called Point of Grace called 'Heal the Wound'. It just reminds me that we are all only human. We all make our own mistakes, learn our own lessons, and then build on them to become the person we are meant to be.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hy7I5gMEKEQ
.....hmmm, I tried to embed this but, as previously mentioned, tech savvy I am not. You will just have to old-fashioned cut and paste - enjoy!
I used to wish that I could rewrite history
I used to dream that each mistake could be erased
Then I could just pretend
I never knew the me back then
I used to pray that You would take this shame away
Hide all the evidence of who I've been
But it's the memory of
The place You brought me from
That keeps me on my knees
And even though I'm free
Heal the wound but leave the scar
A reminder of how merciful You are
I am broken, torn apart
Take the pieces of this heart
And heal the wound but leave the scar
I have not lived a life that boasts of anything
I don't take pride in what I bring
But I'll build an altar with
The rubble that You've found me in
And every stone will sing
Of what You can redeem
Heal the wound but leave the scar
A reminder of how merciful You are
I am broken, torn apart
Take the pieces of this heart
And heal the wound but leave the scar
Don't let me forget
Everything You've done for me
Don't let me forget
The beauty in the suffering
Heal the wound but leave the scar
A reminder of how merciful You are
I am broken, torn apart
Take the pieces of this heart
And heal the wound but leave the scar
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
What Girl Doesn't Want An Almost Army Man?
Amusing Online Email of the Week:
"I must say that I am joining the army for a wile so it is not really the best of times to start any kind of relationship but that is my main goal in life to find the one person that I will want to spend the rest of my life with. I am a hopeless romantic looking for my story book ending. I love to be touched as much as I love to touch."
Commentary:
1. W H I L E
2. If it's not a good time....WHY are you emailing me? Hmmm....maybe you explain further in your email....let me keep reading....
3. Ohhhhhh....you love to touch and be touched.....combined with the earlier 'not a good time' comment.....
Obviously this man is just an amateur masseuse looking for a practice partner, right?
"I must say that I am joining the army for a wile so it is not really the best of times to start any kind of relationship but that is my main goal in life to find the one person that I will want to spend the rest of my life with. I am a hopeless romantic looking for my story book ending. I love to be touched as much as I love to touch."
Commentary:
1. W H I L E
2. If it's not a good time....WHY are you emailing me? Hmmm....maybe you explain further in your email....let me keep reading....
3. Ohhhhhh....you love to touch and be touched.....combined with the earlier 'not a good time' comment.....
Obviously this man is just an amateur masseuse looking for a practice partner, right?
Monday, November 16, 2009
The Annulment: Do I or Don't I?
That is the question. For today anyway.
Here's the scoop. This blog will be equal parts funny and contemplative. This blog will not be factual or referenced or anything other than my feelings and opinions on the annulment process and my place in it. No hate mail from anyone because I question Church policies, including my mother. Especially my mother. (Mom, that includes guilt emails as well just in case you are wondering. My mother wields guilt like Thomas Jefferson flourished a quill. Love you Mom!) I have many different thoughts on whether or not I should go forward with the annulment process, so buckle up and get ready.
First, an amusing side story. (You know you love my tangents!) Brad has always opposed us getting an annulment. He just doesn't like the idea of us saying that our marriage wasn't valid. Which I find half sweet, because he doesn't want to pretend it didn't happen - and half hypocritical, because if he wanted it to be so valid and real then maybe he should have thought of that earlier and matched his actions to that sentiment. Back to today. I text messaged Brad to ask if he still would try and thwart my attempt to get an annulment because I have plans to meet with my priest and I just wanted to know where Brad stood, so that I knew the whole picture going into this meeting. In what is a very typical response, I don't get an answer, just a bunch of questions and sass. And he calls me Jen. Now, I knew that eventually he'd find his way here to my all knowing and all telling blog - and I'm ok with that. (Hi Brad! :) ) I am not embellishing anything or telling any lies - I am just telling my side of the story, and he is welcome to read if he likes. Here is what I found funny...he called me Jen to be snide and mean spirited...but I think it's great! Thanks for the compliment! Jen is gorgeous, healthy, sexy, and frankly...awesome! In fact, I think she is way more amazing post-Brad! So Brad dear, feel free to call me Jen whenever you like.
Ok, slightly off track....anyway the end result of my mini-text-a-thon with Brad is that he tries to tell me that if he agrees to not oppose the annulment, we're even. Even?? Really?? And yes, he is serious. He really thinks that by not fighting me on this, that makes up for everything that has happened. Now, I am not going to tell you all of those things that have happened because this blog is not about making Brad look evil. I am just going to tell you that in my book an affair that pretty much tornadoed my life does not equate with not fighting me on being able to remarry in church some day. End result? I tell him to do what he wants and I continue on my evening of endless errand running. You really don't need a partner's cooperation get an annulment, but it might the process a little harder. But hey, I always do things the hard way anyway, right? Gotta keep with a theme....
So there is the amusing portion - now on to the tougher stuff. Here are my reasons FOR getting an annulment:
1. I truly believe that I deserve one. I honestly did everything I could think of to try and make my marriage work. In the end, you need two people trying, and nothing that I could have done was going to change the end result. I should get points for effort though.
2. In an ideal world, the owner of a pair of fantastic shoulders that I meet is going to be Catholic. He may very well want to be married in the Church and I want that to be an option for him.
3. It is important to my parents - which means it will ease their minds and pave the way for my future hunky shoulders husband. Less conflict is always good.
BUT....here are my reasons AGAINST the annulment:
1. It is a very intrusive process. I need to give complete strangers all the inner workings of my failed marriage and our childhoods. This includes details and my feelings about everything, including our sex life. This makes me uncomfortable, to say the least.
2. I do not want to dig back into all the heartbreak of the past. We have been split for over five years, and it took me a long time to deal with all of it. I truly don't want to have to experience and examine all of those emotions over again when I feel like I have finally really made my peace with it all.
3. I don't necessarily agree with the entire idea of annulments. At least not the process the way it is. I have two points on this and then I'll subside. First, the Catholic Church let me get married purely on the basis of a baptismal certificate and a one day Engaged Encounter seminar. That is all I had to do and I was ready for marriage in the eyes of the Church. But to UNmarry I have to basically expose my soul to perfect strangers and await their judgement. It seems to me that this is a little bit unbalanced. My second issue with this is that my relationship with God is highly personal. He knows better than anyone the ways that I tried to twist myself to make my marriage work - and I don't believe that He needs an annulment paper from the tribunal to see what is in my heart. This whole process just feels judgemental to me - which should be the antithesis of Christian living. This is really a sticky issue for me, because I don't want to go through this whole process for the sake of other people's thoughts and beliefs. I need to see how this is going to continue to move me forward, and right now all I see is how it is going to take me back.
So I'm going to tackle it like I tackle everything in life - find more information. Whenever I start any new project, hobby, and travel plan - I research. I know, I am such a nerd. But a book in my hand and facts in my head make me breathe easy. So that is my plan forward....research, research, research....and hopefully find a way forward.
Here's the scoop. This blog will be equal parts funny and contemplative. This blog will not be factual or referenced or anything other than my feelings and opinions on the annulment process and my place in it. No hate mail from anyone because I question Church policies, including my mother. Especially my mother. (Mom, that includes guilt emails as well just in case you are wondering. My mother wields guilt like Thomas Jefferson flourished a quill. Love you Mom!) I have many different thoughts on whether or not I should go forward with the annulment process, so buckle up and get ready.
First, an amusing side story. (You know you love my tangents!) Brad has always opposed us getting an annulment. He just doesn't like the idea of us saying that our marriage wasn't valid. Which I find half sweet, because he doesn't want to pretend it didn't happen - and half hypocritical, because if he wanted it to be so valid and real then maybe he should have thought of that earlier and matched his actions to that sentiment. Back to today. I text messaged Brad to ask if he still would try and thwart my attempt to get an annulment because I have plans to meet with my priest and I just wanted to know where Brad stood, so that I knew the whole picture going into this meeting. In what is a very typical response, I don't get an answer, just a bunch of questions and sass. And he calls me Jen. Now, I knew that eventually he'd find his way here to my all knowing and all telling blog - and I'm ok with that. (Hi Brad! :) ) I am not embellishing anything or telling any lies - I am just telling my side of the story, and he is welcome to read if he likes. Here is what I found funny...he called me Jen to be snide and mean spirited...but I think it's great! Thanks for the compliment! Jen is gorgeous, healthy, sexy, and frankly...awesome! In fact, I think she is way more amazing post-Brad! So Brad dear, feel free to call me Jen whenever you like.
Ok, slightly off track....anyway the end result of my mini-text-a-thon with Brad is that he tries to tell me that if he agrees to not oppose the annulment, we're even. Even?? Really?? And yes, he is serious. He really thinks that by not fighting me on this, that makes up for everything that has happened. Now, I am not going to tell you all of those things that have happened because this blog is not about making Brad look evil. I am just going to tell you that in my book an affair that pretty much tornadoed my life does not equate with not fighting me on being able to remarry in church some day. End result? I tell him to do what he wants and I continue on my evening of endless errand running. You really don't need a partner's cooperation get an annulment, but it might the process a little harder. But hey, I always do things the hard way anyway, right? Gotta keep with a theme....
So there is the amusing portion - now on to the tougher stuff. Here are my reasons FOR getting an annulment:
1. I truly believe that I deserve one. I honestly did everything I could think of to try and make my marriage work. In the end, you need two people trying, and nothing that I could have done was going to change the end result. I should get points for effort though.
2. In an ideal world, the owner of a pair of fantastic shoulders that I meet is going to be Catholic. He may very well want to be married in the Church and I want that to be an option for him.
3. It is important to my parents - which means it will ease their minds and pave the way for my future hunky shoulders husband. Less conflict is always good.
BUT....here are my reasons AGAINST the annulment:
1. It is a very intrusive process. I need to give complete strangers all the inner workings of my failed marriage and our childhoods. This includes details and my feelings about everything, including our sex life. This makes me uncomfortable, to say the least.
2. I do not want to dig back into all the heartbreak of the past. We have been split for over five years, and it took me a long time to deal with all of it. I truly don't want to have to experience and examine all of those emotions over again when I feel like I have finally really made my peace with it all.
3. I don't necessarily agree with the entire idea of annulments. At least not the process the way it is. I have two points on this and then I'll subside. First, the Catholic Church let me get married purely on the basis of a baptismal certificate and a one day Engaged Encounter seminar. That is all I had to do and I was ready for marriage in the eyes of the Church. But to UNmarry I have to basically expose my soul to perfect strangers and await their judgement. It seems to me that this is a little bit unbalanced. My second issue with this is that my relationship with God is highly personal. He knows better than anyone the ways that I tried to twist myself to make my marriage work - and I don't believe that He needs an annulment paper from the tribunal to see what is in my heart. This whole process just feels judgemental to me - which should be the antithesis of Christian living. This is really a sticky issue for me, because I don't want to go through this whole process for the sake of other people's thoughts and beliefs. I need to see how this is going to continue to move me forward, and right now all I see is how it is going to take me back.
So I'm going to tackle it like I tackle everything in life - find more information. Whenever I start any new project, hobby, and travel plan - I research. I know, I am such a nerd. But a book in my hand and facts in my head make me breathe easy. So that is my plan forward....research, research, research....and hopefully find a way forward.
So You Think You Want A Book
First off, I want to sincerely thank all of you that have followed all my crazy tangents and misadventures. My mind travels down funny rabbit holes from time to time and it is nice to know that you all like to travel with me! I have always loved to write and I really appreciate all of you that love to read it. :)
Now, the scolding part. Sign up people! It's just a free Google account and it takes maybe three minutes. I know of at least ten of you that read all my blogs and yet Jennifer is my only follower. (Thank you Jennifer! You are exempt from this chastising) If I can't even get people to sign up to follow my blog, then I am not convinced that I could get people to actually buy a book. Of course, I know Jennifer would buy it, but who would buy the other six copies? As an extra bonus, if you were all signed up then you would no longer be anonymous commenters and I could know who was who. Also, it is hard for me to hold my head up at blogspot with only one follower. The other bloggers are picking on me and calling me names....
So here is the deal. One of my favorite bloggers just got picked up by some type of site that is paying him to write his blog on their site because of all the good traffic and buzz around his blog. He has 79 followers. If I get to 80 followers, then I will start to write a book. I want to be more popular than him, even though he writes a perfectly nice blog - I like to win. (This is a one of those things that I love about myself that is probably really a flaw I should work on) So you have your mission. Find me 79 more followers to join the brave pioneer Jennifer and I will give you a book. Seems like a pretty good deal to me.
Now, the scolding part. Sign up people! It's just a free Google account and it takes maybe three minutes. I know of at least ten of you that read all my blogs and yet Jennifer is my only follower. (Thank you Jennifer! You are exempt from this chastising) If I can't even get people to sign up to follow my blog, then I am not convinced that I could get people to actually buy a book. Of course, I know Jennifer would buy it, but who would buy the other six copies? As an extra bonus, if you were all signed up then you would no longer be anonymous commenters and I could know who was who. Also, it is hard for me to hold my head up at blogspot with only one follower. The other bloggers are picking on me and calling me names....
So here is the deal. One of my favorite bloggers just got picked up by some type of site that is paying him to write his blog on their site because of all the good traffic and buzz around his blog. He has 79 followers. If I get to 80 followers, then I will start to write a book. I want to be more popular than him, even though he writes a perfectly nice blog - I like to win. (This is a one of those things that I love about myself that is probably really a flaw I should work on) So you have your mission. Find me 79 more followers to join the brave pioneer Jennifer and I will give you a book. Seems like a pretty good deal to me.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
The Inappropriate Age Gap
Today I had my first cougar moment. Now, I do believe that I am still too young at thirty to have real cougar moments, but this is definitely as close as I have ever come.
To begin with, there is nothing about young men that I find attractive - so I am shocked that this even happened! If I stop to give a young man a thought, it is usually along the lines of 'awww...aren't you cute?' Kind of like they are overgrown puppies hopped up on testosterone and machismo. Physically, I like my men to be men. Fully filled out, stocky, throw me over their shoulder.....if I were about thirty pounds lighter of course....but you get the point. I want a man with some meat on his bones. With their breakable, skinny limbs, narrow ribcages and cherub faces, younger men just don't do it for me. With that said....
Today was name tag day in church. Every few months or so, at Holy Trinity they have us wear name tags so we can meet some of the people around us. The idea being that you see all these people all the time - why don't you make friends? So to start off Mass, the priest has us turn to our neighbors and introduce each other. I had vaguely registered that a group of younger kids had sat behind us so I turned around to shake hands with this kid who was probably about twenty at the oldest. More likely 18 or 19. Again, my thought was 'hello cute puppy.' Then he introduced himself in a voice that could make serious money working the phones as an phone sex operator. You know what I mean here - the kind of deep, sexy voice that makes your ovaries wake up and dance. The kind of gravelly voice that makes you immediately stop and offer up a prayer of thanksgiving that you are a woman. That kind of voice. How is it possible that this kid had a voice like THAT??? So for the first half of Mass I sat there and wondered if he really wasn't that young, maybe I just initially misjudged his age at first? After all, this happens to me all time - people always think I am younger than I am. (By the way, thank you God for that - I really appreciate it!) Unfortunately, my initial opinion was correct though - young puppy. I just couldn't look at him and think anything else. Maybe I will just have to call him every now and then and let him tell me a bedtime story.....
To begin with, there is nothing about young men that I find attractive - so I am shocked that this even happened! If I stop to give a young man a thought, it is usually along the lines of 'awww...aren't you cute?' Kind of like they are overgrown puppies hopped up on testosterone and machismo. Physically, I like my men to be men. Fully filled out, stocky, throw me over their shoulder.....if I were about thirty pounds lighter of course....but you get the point. I want a man with some meat on his bones. With their breakable, skinny limbs, narrow ribcages and cherub faces, younger men just don't do it for me. With that said....
Today was name tag day in church. Every few months or so, at Holy Trinity they have us wear name tags so we can meet some of the people around us. The idea being that you see all these people all the time - why don't you make friends? So to start off Mass, the priest has us turn to our neighbors and introduce each other. I had vaguely registered that a group of younger kids had sat behind us so I turned around to shake hands with this kid who was probably about twenty at the oldest. More likely 18 or 19. Again, my thought was 'hello cute puppy.' Then he introduced himself in a voice that could make serious money working the phones as an phone sex operator. You know what I mean here - the kind of deep, sexy voice that makes your ovaries wake up and dance. The kind of gravelly voice that makes you immediately stop and offer up a prayer of thanksgiving that you are a woman. That kind of voice. How is it possible that this kid had a voice like THAT??? So for the first half of Mass I sat there and wondered if he really wasn't that young, maybe I just initially misjudged his age at first? After all, this happens to me all time - people always think I am younger than I am. (By the way, thank you God for that - I really appreciate it!) Unfortunately, my initial opinion was correct though - young puppy. I just couldn't look at him and think anything else. Maybe I will just have to call him every now and then and let him tell me a bedtime story.....
Friday, November 13, 2009
Quick Friday Funny Story....
So my BFF Jen (the real one) is always on the lookout for good, upstanding, nice men with good shoulders for me. Today she came over to pick up her son, who was shopping with me, and started telling me all about this great guy that she knows. He has a son that goes to her school and he's a great dad...super sweet guy who got a raw deal....and so forth. Of course my answer was - size up his shoulders and then let me know if you think he'd pass and then we'll go from there.
That isn't the funny part of the story.
The funny part is then she told me his name. And he is someone I already know. Small, small world. For the sake of amusement we are going to call him Henry. And the funniest thing is that I would never have described him the way she did because I already had preconceived ideas of him. Of course, these are opinions that I formed twelve years ago in high school - since that is the last time I've seen or talked to him. I am sure they are no longer valid - I am definitely not the girl I was in high school, so it stands to reason that he isn't either. He is also someone I would never have thought about dating. Not because he's awful or ugly or mean.....it just never crossed my mind that we would have anything in common. He is just someone I knew vaguely from forever ago that found me on Facebook. Funny how all things circle around again.
That isn't the funny part of the story.
The funny part is then she told me his name. And he is someone I already know. Small, small world. For the sake of amusement we are going to call him Henry. And the funniest thing is that I would never have described him the way she did because I already had preconceived ideas of him. Of course, these are opinions that I formed twelve years ago in high school - since that is the last time I've seen or talked to him. I am sure they are no longer valid - I am definitely not the girl I was in high school, so it stands to reason that he isn't either. He is also someone I would never have thought about dating. Not because he's awful or ugly or mean.....it just never crossed my mind that we would have anything in common. He is just someone I knew vaguely from forever ago that found me on Facebook. Funny how all things circle around again.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
The Story of John Black
John Black is the man that I probably should have met in a year or two. Of course, I actually met him roughly six months after Brad and I split and I really don't regret it. It is just that I think any relationship that follows so closely on the heels of a ruined marriage is doomed. And ours was. In so many ways he helped me heal and move on, but it was totally at the expense of our own relationship.
If you ask John Black, he will tell you that I am amazing. He will tell you that our relationship crumbled under the weight of dealing with my family and Brad. Of course, he probably would use different word choices than the ones that I just did. And he's right. My family was a big factor, but while I accepted it, he couldn't. He just couldn't see past the moment to realize their point of view.
When Brad and I split, it didn't just affect me. It affected my family, too. When Brad and I started dating, my siblings were young. My baby sister was only two when we met. In a very real sense, he was like a brother to all of them. Then suddenly not only was he not around, but he had done some truly awful things that they just couldn't believe he had done. It was hard to handle. Adding to that was the realization for my parents that I was going to be divorced - which is no small deal in my family. The whole breakdown of my marriage was so fast that it stunned everyone. In December of 2003 Brad and I were trying to get pregnant. Two months later I find out about his affair. December of 2004 was my first Christmas with John Black, who I had met December 4th. It was a lot to ask my family to process and probably too much for me to handle - in hindsight, of course. In the moment I was just so happy to have found someone when months early I had been terrified I never would. To me, John Black filled in every missing piece that I had. But I wasn't ready. And that is truly why it failed. So Lesson 34 about life after divorce - don't rush into another relationship. You may ruin something that could have been amazing if you would just have waited.
Even though it didn't work out, I have amazing stories about John Black - some of which I will share eventually and some of which I will hug to myself. Here is my very favorite story - one I bet he wouldn't even remember but I always think about this as a turning point in my life. First journey back with me briefly to Brad - when he admitted his affair he told me it was my fault. He told me that he just wasn't attracted to me because he liked petite, short, skinny girls - so he just had to have an affair. That sounds so ridiculous now- I have never been petite or skinny and yet he married me. And I guaranty there was no attraction problem. But back when he was telling me this, I was already so beaten down that I just accepted it. I remember feeling so awful about myself for a long time, thinking that if I had just been skinnier then he wouldn't have cheated. Bullshit, of course, but I wasn't rational.
Fast forward to John Black. We are laying in bed in comfy clothes on a Sunday afternoon watching football. We are cuddled up and he moved his hand to rest on my stomach - of course I immediately tried to move it to some less jiggly part of my body. He asked me what I was up to, so I told him it made me uncomfortable to have him touching my flabby belly. He pulled my shirt up over my stomach and laid both hands on my belly and told me to stop being ridiculous, that he loved my belly because it was part of me and he loved me. I will stop the story there because I am sure you don't need to know the rest, but his complete acceptance of all of me was something I never had with Brad - ever. And that one comment has stayed with me always. And yes, I realize it sounds completely corny, but it is completely representative of my relationship with John Black. Despite all the nonsense and the way we ended up - we both truly accepted each other for who were were, flaws and all. It was a lesson I needed to learn. John Black - you are a good egg.
If you ask John Black, he will tell you that I am amazing. He will tell you that our relationship crumbled under the weight of dealing with my family and Brad. Of course, he probably would use different word choices than the ones that I just did. And he's right. My family was a big factor, but while I accepted it, he couldn't. He just couldn't see past the moment to realize their point of view.
When Brad and I split, it didn't just affect me. It affected my family, too. When Brad and I started dating, my siblings were young. My baby sister was only two when we met. In a very real sense, he was like a brother to all of them. Then suddenly not only was he not around, but he had done some truly awful things that they just couldn't believe he had done. It was hard to handle. Adding to that was the realization for my parents that I was going to be divorced - which is no small deal in my family. The whole breakdown of my marriage was so fast that it stunned everyone. In December of 2003 Brad and I were trying to get pregnant. Two months later I find out about his affair. December of 2004 was my first Christmas with John Black, who I had met December 4th. It was a lot to ask my family to process and probably too much for me to handle - in hindsight, of course. In the moment I was just so happy to have found someone when months early I had been terrified I never would. To me, John Black filled in every missing piece that I had. But I wasn't ready. And that is truly why it failed. So Lesson 34 about life after divorce - don't rush into another relationship. You may ruin something that could have been amazing if you would just have waited.
Even though it didn't work out, I have amazing stories about John Black - some of which I will share eventually and some of which I will hug to myself. Here is my very favorite story - one I bet he wouldn't even remember but I always think about this as a turning point in my life. First journey back with me briefly to Brad - when he admitted his affair he told me it was my fault. He told me that he just wasn't attracted to me because he liked petite, short, skinny girls - so he just had to have an affair. That sounds so ridiculous now- I have never been petite or skinny and yet he married me. And I guaranty there was no attraction problem. But back when he was telling me this, I was already so beaten down that I just accepted it. I remember feeling so awful about myself for a long time, thinking that if I had just been skinnier then he wouldn't have cheated. Bullshit, of course, but I wasn't rational.
Fast forward to John Black. We are laying in bed in comfy clothes on a Sunday afternoon watching football. We are cuddled up and he moved his hand to rest on my stomach - of course I immediately tried to move it to some less jiggly part of my body. He asked me what I was up to, so I told him it made me uncomfortable to have him touching my flabby belly. He pulled my shirt up over my stomach and laid both hands on my belly and told me to stop being ridiculous, that he loved my belly because it was part of me and he loved me. I will stop the story there because I am sure you don't need to know the rest, but his complete acceptance of all of me was something I never had with Brad - ever. And that one comment has stayed with me always. And yes, I realize it sounds completely corny, but it is completely representative of my relationship with John Black. Despite all the nonsense and the way we ended up - we both truly accepted each other for who were were, flaws and all. It was a lesson I needed to learn. John Black - you are a good egg.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
The Loss of the Secret Keeper
So last night I had a big secret. A secret of monumental proportions. A secret that was threatening to explode my brain if I didn't talk to someone as soon as I could get my hands on my cell phone. As soon as I left where I was (which I'm not telling because it's a secret of course) I immediately grabbed my phone to call.......no one.
Being married automatically gives you a person to tell everything to. (I completely just ended that sentence with a preposition, but I have always hated that rule anyway and couldn't come up with a better way to finish it quickly - so deal.) No exceptions. When they say "for better or for worse" that also means "and with all my good gossip and juicy scandals". It is unwritten, understood marriage law. Everyone who has been in a serious relationship knows exactly what I mean here. Brad and I had zero secrets (other than the whole affair of course, small peanuts really) and our end of day recap before bed regularly consisted of swapping stories about people that we heard throughout the day. On a small tangent.....you would think that because I am the woman that I would be the big instigator of this tradition - you would be wrong. Brad gossiped like a little, old, blue-haired lady at the hairdressers. Anyway, anything that was told to either of us was fair game to the other one - without exception. We may not have admitted that to every friend or acquaintance, but that is how it was. And it wasn't just a random habit between Brad and I - my following relationship with notorious John Black had the same deal. We were a team - and as a team we had an obligation to share information. Because I was with Brad for eight years and then on and off with John Black for three more years - this is really the first year I haven't had an official secret keeper.
The hard part about having a secret keeper when single is that secret keepers really can't be just good friends. Especially good married or dating friends. And here's why: They are already some one's secret keeper! They already have allegiance to someone other than you. They are bound to share all good gossip and juicy scandal with that person. (see above) Therefore YOUR secret is now shared material. There is no way around it - that is the code. I can call up one of my sisters or friends and share my dirt BUT they are completely going to turn around and share my dirt with their husband or boyfriend. Which is how it should be, but it makes it hard for a single girl to find a good secret keeper. In the past I have used Brad as a temporary secret keeper, but not only is that probably not very healthy but he is also on my shit list this week - so no big secret for him. I do confess to venting to John Black this morning a bit, but he does have a girlfriend so I can only carry that so far before I feel like I am stepping on toes. So the search is on for a new secret keeper, preferably one with great shoulders. I am thinking of holding auditions.....
Being married automatically gives you a person to tell everything to. (I completely just ended that sentence with a preposition, but I have always hated that rule anyway and couldn't come up with a better way to finish it quickly - so deal.) No exceptions. When they say "for better or for worse" that also means "and with all my good gossip and juicy scandals". It is unwritten, understood marriage law. Everyone who has been in a serious relationship knows exactly what I mean here. Brad and I had zero secrets (other than the whole affair of course, small peanuts really) and our end of day recap before bed regularly consisted of swapping stories about people that we heard throughout the day. On a small tangent.....you would think that because I am the woman that I would be the big instigator of this tradition - you would be wrong. Brad gossiped like a little, old, blue-haired lady at the hairdressers. Anyway, anything that was told to either of us was fair game to the other one - without exception. We may not have admitted that to every friend or acquaintance, but that is how it was. And it wasn't just a random habit between Brad and I - my following relationship with notorious John Black had the same deal. We were a team - and as a team we had an obligation to share information. Because I was with Brad for eight years and then on and off with John Black for three more years - this is really the first year I haven't had an official secret keeper.
The hard part about having a secret keeper when single is that secret keepers really can't be just good friends. Especially good married or dating friends. And here's why: They are already some one's secret keeper! They already have allegiance to someone other than you. They are bound to share all good gossip and juicy scandal with that person. (see above) Therefore YOUR secret is now shared material. There is no way around it - that is the code. I can call up one of my sisters or friends and share my dirt BUT they are completely going to turn around and share my dirt with their husband or boyfriend. Which is how it should be, but it makes it hard for a single girl to find a good secret keeper. In the past I have used Brad as a temporary secret keeper, but not only is that probably not very healthy but he is also on my shit list this week - so no big secret for him. I do confess to venting to John Black this morning a bit, but he does have a girlfriend so I can only carry that so far before I feel like I am stepping on toes. So the search is on for a new secret keeper, preferably one with great shoulders. I am thinking of holding auditions.....
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Pollyanna meets Midland St.
To say that I was unprepared for dating after Brad would be a gross understatement. Every unscrupulous man in the bar that was worth his salt had me pegged as an easy target the minute I stepped into the building. Maybe the minute I stepped out of my car actually. The root of my dating hilarity is all because of this. Half my dating after divorce stories wouldn't even be funny if I were a typical jaded barhopper instead of the starry eyed optimist that I was - and let's be honest - mostly still am.
Here's the background. To begin with, I was the oldest child of an extremely protective household. Other kids in high school had curfews - I didn't go out. I didn't party, I didn't drink, I didn't date. That does sound like my parents locked me in a dungeon, but in reality I was just cocooned from many things that other kids experienced in high school. (Thanks Mom by the way. I DO appreciate it now that I am older and fully intend to torment my own children in exactly the same way one day) BUT....this did not make me a very informed dating diva.
Act Two: I meet Brad my senior year. We fall in passionate teenage love. You know, the kind where you think if you don't see each other every day you will literally die. Simply stop breathing if you can't breathe the same pocket of air. Every teenage cliche? Completely true. We were so silly sometimes. I remember standing in front of my parents house next to his dad's truck one night when he dropped me home. We were crying (oh yeah...brad too...he was a weeper at one point before he went AWOL ) and we were crying because - get this - basketball season was starting. Yup. Because with his practices, we wouldn't be able to see each other every single night and we were worried as to how we would ever make it through. Well, we did survive basketball. Just not waitresses and hormones.(that was slightly snide but it made me giggle a little so I'm leaving it in) So Act Two ends with me falling in love with my first real boyfriend right out of high school.
Fast forward five years and we are dodging rice hand in hand as we run to the limo. Actually, you can't throw rice at weddings anymore, did you know that? Apparently it's bad for the environment. (Isn't it a plant? How can this even be really? ) I just used that first line to paint a typical wedding picture so you knew where I was going. In reality we walked pretty slowly to the stretch expedition that Brad insisted on having because he wanted to use his cane. (yup, cane...complete with top hat AND white gloves....see what a good wife I was?) Anyway...way off tangent here. The point of this is that I married my highschool sweetheart and pretty much avoided the entire dating circuit and barhopping initiations. When everyone else my age was figuring out where their limits were and how to step over them, I was setting up my 401K and making mortgage payments. (Although to be fair, Brad was in charge of that since I am pretty much awful when it comes to managing my money)
Add into this mix the fact that I am, at heart, the kind of person that wants to believe the best about everyone - and you can imagine the experiences that I had when I finally took my first steps on the dating scene. But you don't have to! Because I am going to tell you most of them eventually! Lucky you!
The person that had to have enjoyed these first few weeks the most must have been my sister, Emily. It really must have been somewhat like watching a toddler play in traffic when we first started going out. A toddler that was slugging on Jack, of course, because that's how Polish toddlers roll. I remember my first inkling that this may not be the spot for placing unearned trust. Emily and I had been dancing at Westtown in Bay City - and we had met a handful of men towards the end of the night. Last call came around and these guys kept talking about after parties and I was all for it. Because at this point in time, my only goal was to put off going to sleep until I just fell over exhausted so I could mark one more day off my calender. So I offered up my house and started talking about playing cards....now, I meant play cards. Euchre, smear, go fish... They thought I meant "play cards", so there was understandably some confusion when we all ended up back at my house and the night didn't end the way that they had imagined. To this day I still am not sure if Emily was aware of the misconception all along and just enjoying my Pollyanna outlook and the guys reactions. Needless to say, I learned fairly quickly to be extremely specific in my conversations from that point on.
I would like to say that this was the first and last time that I was naive and trusting of the wrong people, but then I wouldn't have more stories to share later, would I? While my outlook did get me into situations that could have turned out better, that is part of who I am. I wouldn't change it if I could. The difference now is that I acknowledge that there is a way a situation could go bad - but the Pollyanna in me is still rooting for the happier ending.
Here's the background. To begin with, I was the oldest child of an extremely protective household. Other kids in high school had curfews - I didn't go out. I didn't party, I didn't drink, I didn't date. That does sound like my parents locked me in a dungeon, but in reality I was just cocooned from many things that other kids experienced in high school. (Thanks Mom by the way. I DO appreciate it now that I am older and fully intend to torment my own children in exactly the same way one day) BUT....this did not make me a very informed dating diva.
Act Two: I meet Brad my senior year. We fall in passionate teenage love. You know, the kind where you think if you don't see each other every day you will literally die. Simply stop breathing if you can't breathe the same pocket of air. Every teenage cliche? Completely true. We were so silly sometimes. I remember standing in front of my parents house next to his dad's truck one night when he dropped me home. We were crying (oh yeah...brad too...he was a weeper at one point before he went AWOL ) and we were crying because - get this - basketball season was starting. Yup. Because with his practices, we wouldn't be able to see each other every single night and we were worried as to how we would ever make it through. Well, we did survive basketball. Just not waitresses and hormones.(that was slightly snide but it made me giggle a little so I'm leaving it in) So Act Two ends with me falling in love with my first real boyfriend right out of high school.
Fast forward five years and we are dodging rice hand in hand as we run to the limo. Actually, you can't throw rice at weddings anymore, did you know that? Apparently it's bad for the environment. (Isn't it a plant? How can this even be really? ) I just used that first line to paint a typical wedding picture so you knew where I was going. In reality we walked pretty slowly to the stretch expedition that Brad insisted on having because he wanted to use his cane. (yup, cane...complete with top hat AND white gloves....see what a good wife I was?) Anyway...way off tangent here. The point of this is that I married my highschool sweetheart and pretty much avoided the entire dating circuit and barhopping initiations. When everyone else my age was figuring out where their limits were and how to step over them, I was setting up my 401K and making mortgage payments. (Although to be fair, Brad was in charge of that since I am pretty much awful when it comes to managing my money)
Add into this mix the fact that I am, at heart, the kind of person that wants to believe the best about everyone - and you can imagine the experiences that I had when I finally took my first steps on the dating scene. But you don't have to! Because I am going to tell you most of them eventually! Lucky you!
The person that had to have enjoyed these first few weeks the most must have been my sister, Emily. It really must have been somewhat like watching a toddler play in traffic when we first started going out. A toddler that was slugging on Jack, of course, because that's how Polish toddlers roll. I remember my first inkling that this may not be the spot for placing unearned trust. Emily and I had been dancing at Westtown in Bay City - and we had met a handful of men towards the end of the night. Last call came around and these guys kept talking about after parties and I was all for it. Because at this point in time, my only goal was to put off going to sleep until I just fell over exhausted so I could mark one more day off my calender. So I offered up my house and started talking about playing cards....now, I meant play cards. Euchre, smear, go fish... They thought I meant "play cards", so there was understandably some confusion when we all ended up back at my house and the night didn't end the way that they had imagined. To this day I still am not sure if Emily was aware of the misconception all along and just enjoying my Pollyanna outlook and the guys reactions. Needless to say, I learned fairly quickly to be extremely specific in my conversations from that point on.
I would like to say that this was the first and last time that I was naive and trusting of the wrong people, but then I wouldn't have more stories to share later, would I? While my outlook did get me into situations that could have turned out better, that is part of who I am. I wouldn't change it if I could. The difference now is that I acknowledge that there is a way a situation could go bad - but the Pollyanna in me is still rooting for the happier ending.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Can Brad and Jen really ever be friends again?
Is it true? Do we really believe all the gossip about Brad and Jen being secret buddies again behind Angelina's back? (I told you I read all the gossip mags with Jen on the cover) Do we even believe it is true that ex's can be friends? I am uncertain.
Technically, I am friends with my Brad. By 'technically' I mean that it depends on when you ask me. We split almost six years ago now, and in the intervening years we have ignored each other, been best friends, wanted to strangle each other, engaged in some drunken reconnecting....all trying to find a balance in what we are. (Ok, maybe the drunken reconnecting was less about balance and more about familiarity and Jack Daniels...but the rest of it? That is all about balance for sure.)
Funny situations pop up when you are friends with an ex - and by funny, I mean funny to me. Brad usually doesn't find them funny at all. Here is one of my favorite examples. Brad and I separated six years ago but our divorce was just final a few months ago. So to annoy him, when we would hang out and run into people I would introduce myself as his wife. Technically true, but no one in his modern day life even knew he'd been married because Brad is a consummate manipulator of the truth. So he tried to pretend that I didn't exist and in return I would smile, shake the hand of some girl he was interested in, and introduce myself as his wife. See? I find it funny. Brad....not so much.
Another funny situation? Every time Brad and I hang out, we run into a member of his family. It's almost to the point where we are walking into a restaurant and we can make bets on which cousin we will see that night. I am sure that his family for years has probably thought that we were pretending to be getting a divorce and secretly still together. (Except his sister of course, because she gets to hear my rants when he really pisses me off) Now if I am alone, I never run into these same people, only when we are together...life is just funny.
In all honesty, I don't expect that Brad and I will stay friends once either of us finds themselves in serious situation with someone else. I did have a pretty serious boyfriend after we split up and when I was with him (let's call my boyfriend John Black, for reasons only known to him and me) Brad and I were out of contact except for extreme emergencies. And it was good. I was happy and content without the ex-friendship of Brad. Since John Black and I parted ways, my friendship with Brad has started again. But I think it is pretty obvious to both of us that we are just each other's back up buddy. Being friends with someone from your past means that you are constantly reminded of all the things you did wrong then and the kind of person that you were then. (And I don't know about y'all, but I was pretty naive and pretty silly back then. I am way cooler now!) All the things that we had in common before are pretty much gone and our friendship is almost solely fueled by a shared history. Anytime I think that anything is different about him, I am disappointed. In the long run.......yeah, still uncertain. I better call Jen and ask her what we should do.
Technically, I am friends with my Brad. By 'technically' I mean that it depends on when you ask me. We split almost six years ago now, and in the intervening years we have ignored each other, been best friends, wanted to strangle each other, engaged in some drunken reconnecting....all trying to find a balance in what we are. (Ok, maybe the drunken reconnecting was less about balance and more about familiarity and Jack Daniels...but the rest of it? That is all about balance for sure.)
Funny situations pop up when you are friends with an ex - and by funny, I mean funny to me. Brad usually doesn't find them funny at all. Here is one of my favorite examples. Brad and I separated six years ago but our divorce was just final a few months ago. So to annoy him, when we would hang out and run into people I would introduce myself as his wife. Technically true, but no one in his modern day life even knew he'd been married because Brad is a consummate manipulator of the truth. So he tried to pretend that I didn't exist and in return I would smile, shake the hand of some girl he was interested in, and introduce myself as his wife. See? I find it funny. Brad....not so much.
Another funny situation? Every time Brad and I hang out, we run into a member of his family. It's almost to the point where we are walking into a restaurant and we can make bets on which cousin we will see that night. I am sure that his family for years has probably thought that we were pretending to be getting a divorce and secretly still together. (Except his sister of course, because she gets to hear my rants when he really pisses me off) Now if I am alone, I never run into these same people, only when we are together...life is just funny.
In all honesty, I don't expect that Brad and I will stay friends once either of us finds themselves in serious situation with someone else. I did have a pretty serious boyfriend after we split up and when I was with him (let's call my boyfriend John Black, for reasons only known to him and me) Brad and I were out of contact except for extreme emergencies. And it was good. I was happy and content without the ex-friendship of Brad. Since John Black and I parted ways, my friendship with Brad has started again. But I think it is pretty obvious to both of us that we are just each other's back up buddy. Being friends with someone from your past means that you are constantly reminded of all the things you did wrong then and the kind of person that you were then. (And I don't know about y'all, but I was pretty naive and pretty silly back then. I am way cooler now!) All the things that we had in common before are pretty much gone and our friendship is almost solely fueled by a shared history. Anytime I think that anything is different about him, I am disappointed. In the long run.......yeah, still uncertain. I better call Jen and ask her what we should do.
I Don't Like Fish
Photos that men should NOT use on dating sites.....trust me, I'm a woman, these aren't doing you any favors~
Pictures you took of yourself in the mirror in your bathroom with your cell phone. In this day and age, who doesn't have a digital picture of themselves somewhere? Or a good friend to at least take a picture of them in a room other than the one that they pee in? I fear these men. And I don't email them.
Pictures of yourself holding huge fish. I don't know why this is a common picture pose for guys, but it seems to be. Me manly man. Me catch big fish. You likee?? No likee. I am not looking for a man that can provide fresh seafood for my table. I can catch my own fish. ( Actually, this isn't true. I have only ever caught one fish in my entire life. It was a four inch long injured catfish that Emily had just caught and tossed back in - apparently it didn't swim away fast enough. BUT - this is all just a metaphor anyway. And I can catch my own metaphoric fish.)
Pictures of yourself without a shirt on. This includes all flexing shots, shots of you hanging shirtless while cooking (??), and shots of you smiling at your own abs. How many first dates do you go on shirtless? Hi, nice to meet you, how you like my pecs? It just isn't the natural order of things and it has significant creep factor.
Pictures of you hugging on women. I would have thought this one was a no brainer, but apparently not. Unless you are labeling them saying how awesome your sister is - then you give a very specific impression about the kind of guy you are - and I can find that kind of guy at the bar on any night of the week.
***All true pictures that surfaced in my inbox this week. I swear, I can't make this stuff up.
Pictures you took of yourself in the mirror in your bathroom with your cell phone. In this day and age, who doesn't have a digital picture of themselves somewhere? Or a good friend to at least take a picture of them in a room other than the one that they pee in? I fear these men. And I don't email them.
Pictures of yourself holding huge fish. I don't know why this is a common picture pose for guys, but it seems to be. Me manly man. Me catch big fish. You likee?? No likee. I am not looking for a man that can provide fresh seafood for my table. I can catch my own fish. ( Actually, this isn't true. I have only ever caught one fish in my entire life. It was a four inch long injured catfish that Emily had just caught and tossed back in - apparently it didn't swim away fast enough. BUT - this is all just a metaphor anyway. And I can catch my own metaphoric fish.)
Pictures of yourself without a shirt on. This includes all flexing shots, shots of you hanging shirtless while cooking (??), and shots of you smiling at your own abs. How many first dates do you go on shirtless? Hi, nice to meet you, how you like my pecs? It just isn't the natural order of things and it has significant creep factor.
Pictures of you hugging on women. I would have thought this one was a no brainer, but apparently not. Unless you are labeling them saying how awesome your sister is - then you give a very specific impression about the kind of guy you are - and I can find that kind of guy at the bar on any night of the week.
***All true pictures that surfaced in my inbox this week. I swear, I can't make this stuff up.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Online Quickie Postings.....
I haven't talked about myself online for a week! What was I doing all this time if not blabbing about my problems? Many things, including collecting the fodder for this week's bullet list of funny online dating moments.....
- Escanaba Ed I try very hard to not judge men who email me on their profiles alone. I know that not everyone is a great writer (although as previously mentioned, I do subtract points for poor spelling) or knows how to communicate via internet well. So, to do my best to be fair, if a man has the cajones to email me then I usually email back even if my first impression is to turn off the computer. I think after a few emails, people reveal their character enough for me to decide if I should yank the plug on it. With that in mind, I get an email from a man who lives in the UP - a man that did use spell check or is naturally gifted in phonics. I email him back, answering his few questions and asking a few of my own; because that is the way you get to know each other, right? Now, here is the funny part. This guy doesn't answer a single question! He just runs on and on about what his perfect girl is like and how he is a great catch. I debate on whether or not to respond, but decide to go one more round because it's possible that he just didn't remember to review my email I suppose. Nope. He emails me again immediately and doesn't answer any of my second round of questions. It's almost like he isn't even reading my responses, just sending out random emails to me. Needless to say, I didn't answer any more....
- Quick on the Trigger This advice is compiled from many different online men. If you are online dating, take note of their mistake. Don't immediately email responses every time someone sends you an email. I know, rationally, that people are online all the time and it isn't neccessarily an awful thing to get a quick response. At least I know they are interested I suppose. But there were three men this week that were instant responders and no matter what they said, it made me avoid replying anymore. One was actually pretty funny, which I enjoy, but because he replied twice to me within the hour it just makes me think that there is something wrong with him. I may be off base, but my gut says to let this one go, and online dating is all about relying on your instincts. So goodbye Funny Man...hopefully you read this, learn the error of your ways, and avoid setting alarm bells off in your next quest.
- My Embarrassing Story of the Week So on this online sites, they send me five matches a day; people that they think I am very compatible with and should check out. I am not going to go into super detail on this one because, as the headline would indicate, this is embarrassing for me. Basically, these five pop up on your screen and to make them go away you click yes, no, or maybe for your level of interest. Also important to know - the pictures on these are smaller than normal so if its a full body shot of someone then it's hard to see. So one of my matches this week looked familiar, but I wanted to look at the picture closer to see if it was the guy that I thought it was, let's call him Silent Dan. Silent Dan is someone in the fringes of my social circle that is connected through other people and that basically has seen and heard some not great things about me. I don't dislike him, but have always kind of felt that he disapproves of me, although I have been assured that is not the case. Anyway, I digress. The important thing to know here is that Silent Dan and I know each other, but not well enough for me to call him up and tell him about the funny thing I did online today......and the funny thing I did was click on his profile to see better. It doesn't sound so funny until I explain that when I click on the profile, the site automatically marks him as a 'yes' which means they send him an email saying I'm interested in him - romantically. Not my finest moment. However it gave our mutual friend a very hearty chuckle.
- Bad Speller of the Week "i'm vary outgoing and love to just have fun, serouse time is at work or when deamed nessisary not all the time...." I could put more, but I think that would move this item from funny into mean, which is completely not my intention. I don't want to mock their spelling as much as I want to scream at them to take the effort to push the spellcheck button~
Monday, October 19, 2009
Trailblazing....
As the first divorced person in my circle of people, I had to learn all my divorce lessons the hard way. (Which is usually how I learn my lessons anyway - ask my parents) I now consider myself an expert - especially since I have been mired in this experience for five years - so here is the Top Ten list of things I wish someone had told me.
10. You have to empty the lint trap in the dryer - even if it was your husband's job before - or you will likely set your house on fire. Or at a minimum, your dryer will stop drying and start smoking. Also, there is a drip pan under your refridgerator, a water shut off valve in your basement, and a filter in your furnace. Good to know.
9. You don't need 99% of the things that were stored in your garage. Keep the lawn mower, a rake, a shovel, a hammer, and a few screwdrivers and give the rest away. If you can't get the job done with those things, then it's not worth bothering with - all that other junk is just stuff men collect to fill their garages and make themselves feel like Men.
8. Don't stalk your ex. All you do is learn stuff that you don't want to know and that isn't helpful. Also, you waste a bunch of time that you could be using for other important things, like shredding the clothes he left in the closet.
7. Even though it has wheels, the trash can does not propel itself to the curb on trash day. Sadly.
6. Karma will come back around. Repeat that as often as needed until you feel better. Or until your cheating ex gets cheated on by the woman he was cheating with. That will be a great moment for you. I promise.
5. It is incredibly satisfying to throw everything in your house that belongs to your ex out the window onto the ground. Include all his clothes, childhood memories, collectibles, electronics, and anything else that you won't use. To kick the pleasure up a notch, turn the hose on and water it all down. Now, I know you are thinking that only crazy people do this and surely you will regret it one day. Take my word on it - you won't. In fact, five years down the road it will still make you chuckle out loud.
4. One day you feel empowered. The next day you will feel like a failure. The next day you will feel like superwoman. The next day you will feel beaten down. The next day you will feel hopeful. The following day you will lock yourself in the house like a hermit and eat Cocoa Puffs all day. All of these are acceptable. Prepare to feel like a manic depressive for a little while. Hang on and enjoy the ride.
3. Do not, under any circumstance, watch romantic comedies. They unravel all your progress, make your brain turn to mush, and cause you to make many errors in judgement. They also give you many mistaken expectations about the dating world that you are about to enter - but that is a story for a whole other blog.
2. Do not expect to come out of this unscathed. To say that I have regrets from this time period in my life is like saying that there is sand in the Sahara. BUT....forgive yourself, accept that everyone handles problems differently, and keep on truckin'. The people that care about you will understand.
1. Lean on your people. It will keep you from crossing over to the dark side....well, most of the time. Or at least it will give you a friend for company as you play there. ( thanks Emily) Also, in my situation, it meant that I didn't have to cook for a long time. (thanks Mom)
10. You have to empty the lint trap in the dryer - even if it was your husband's job before - or you will likely set your house on fire. Or at a minimum, your dryer will stop drying and start smoking. Also, there is a drip pan under your refridgerator, a water shut off valve in your basement, and a filter in your furnace. Good to know.
9. You don't need 99% of the things that were stored in your garage. Keep the lawn mower, a rake, a shovel, a hammer, and a few screwdrivers and give the rest away. If you can't get the job done with those things, then it's not worth bothering with - all that other junk is just stuff men collect to fill their garages and make themselves feel like Men.
8. Don't stalk your ex. All you do is learn stuff that you don't want to know and that isn't helpful. Also, you waste a bunch of time that you could be using for other important things, like shredding the clothes he left in the closet.
7. Even though it has wheels, the trash can does not propel itself to the curb on trash day. Sadly.
6. Karma will come back around. Repeat that as often as needed until you feel better. Or until your cheating ex gets cheated on by the woman he was cheating with. That will be a great moment for you. I promise.
5. It is incredibly satisfying to throw everything in your house that belongs to your ex out the window onto the ground. Include all his clothes, childhood memories, collectibles, electronics, and anything else that you won't use. To kick the pleasure up a notch, turn the hose on and water it all down. Now, I know you are thinking that only crazy people do this and surely you will regret it one day. Take my word on it - you won't. In fact, five years down the road it will still make you chuckle out loud.
4. One day you feel empowered. The next day you will feel like a failure. The next day you will feel like superwoman. The next day you will feel beaten down. The next day you will feel hopeful. The following day you will lock yourself in the house like a hermit and eat Cocoa Puffs all day. All of these are acceptable. Prepare to feel like a manic depressive for a little while. Hang on and enjoy the ride.
3. Do not, under any circumstance, watch romantic comedies. They unravel all your progress, make your brain turn to mush, and cause you to make many errors in judgement. They also give you many mistaken expectations about the dating world that you are about to enter - but that is a story for a whole other blog.
2. Do not expect to come out of this unscathed. To say that I have regrets from this time period in my life is like saying that there is sand in the Sahara. BUT....forgive yourself, accept that everyone handles problems differently, and keep on truckin'. The people that care about you will understand.
1. Lean on your people. It will keep you from crossing over to the dark side....well, most of the time. Or at least it will give you a friend for company as you play there. ( thanks Emily) Also, in my situation, it meant that I didn't have to cook for a long time. (thanks Mom)
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Pertinent Information...
Welcome to my blog! The place where I get to say anything I want about everything I want without anyone stopping me! Hmmm....the potential for disaster here is huge, isn't it? Actually, I am going to keep these blogs fairly limited to a specific topic - so I am not really going to talk about everything, BUT I reserve the right to, if I want.
Divorce is the single most awful thing that has ever touched my life. I could look at it as a terrible thing, but I really look at it like I've been pretty blessed. Not that divorce really isn't awful, but so many people deal with things that are so much worse than this; disease, death, handicaps, poverty...I could go on and on. The thing is that when you are going through divorce, you can't see that perspective. You are completely mired in yourself and what you are going through. Selfish? Yup. True? Also yup.
I can't write about all those things that are worse than divorce because thankfully I have limited knowledge on those kinds of topics. So instead I will just share my awful, and many times, amusing divorce and post divorce stories; because those are what I do know. Hopefully those of you that like to follow my rambling posts will enjoy and maybe my perspective will help someone else out there realize that there is light at the end of the tunnel. Really.
I don't know exactly what direction this blog will go, but here is what I don't want it to be - a reason for you to sit and shake your head at your computer at how sad this is. Parts of it are sad, but many other parts are funny, introspective, enlightening, and empowering. This part of my life is only one small part. It doesn't define me, it just is one thing that helps shape me. I am blessed with an extraordinary family and fantastic, supportive friends that lift me up much more than this has dragged me down. I have a roof over my head, food in my kitchen, and money in the bank - which is more than the majority of the population, even here in the United States. When the bottom dropped out my world, I had people there to pick me back up - and for that I am very grateful.
Because this blog is going to annoy my ex-husband, and because I think it's fun, I am going to give him an alias. Obviously, those of you that know me fairly decently will know who he is, but at least I'm not throwing his name out there into blogosphere for all the world to see. So from now on, my ex-husband is *Brad. And here's why - (prepare yourself for the first of many mildly amusing sidenotes) My ex-husband cheated on me at approximately the same time that Brad Pitt cheated on Jennifer Aniston. So Jennifer and I are divorce buddies. BFF's, really. Except, of course, she doesn't know. But once their story broke, I clung to it like a drowning sailor because - thankfully - I wasn't going through this alone. I had Jen. I will to this day still buy any gossip mag at the checkout at Meijers that has a Jen story on the cover. A few months ago, there was an online poll about who wore their little black dress better - Jen or Angelina. I voted for Jen 159 times. (I was just too tired to vote once more to make it an even 160.) So to reel in my tangent, in honor of my (in my mind) BFF Jen, we will rename my ex - Brad.
So that is my opening story - the tale of Jen and I. I have many more to come.....strange divorce moments, full out hysterical tales of re-entering the dating world, the story of night Emily and I almost became sailors....and how through it all, my guardian angel was putting in some serious overtime.
Divorce is the single most awful thing that has ever touched my life. I could look at it as a terrible thing, but I really look at it like I've been pretty blessed. Not that divorce really isn't awful, but so many people deal with things that are so much worse than this; disease, death, handicaps, poverty...I could go on and on. The thing is that when you are going through divorce, you can't see that perspective. You are completely mired in yourself and what you are going through. Selfish? Yup. True? Also yup.
I can't write about all those things that are worse than divorce because thankfully I have limited knowledge on those kinds of topics. So instead I will just share my awful, and many times, amusing divorce and post divorce stories; because those are what I do know. Hopefully those of you that like to follow my rambling posts will enjoy and maybe my perspective will help someone else out there realize that there is light at the end of the tunnel. Really.
I don't know exactly what direction this blog will go, but here is what I don't want it to be - a reason for you to sit and shake your head at your computer at how sad this is. Parts of it are sad, but many other parts are funny, introspective, enlightening, and empowering. This part of my life is only one small part. It doesn't define me, it just is one thing that helps shape me. I am blessed with an extraordinary family and fantastic, supportive friends that lift me up much more than this has dragged me down. I have a roof over my head, food in my kitchen, and money in the bank - which is more than the majority of the population, even here in the United States. When the bottom dropped out my world, I had people there to pick me back up - and for that I am very grateful.
Because this blog is going to annoy my ex-husband, and because I think it's fun, I am going to give him an alias. Obviously, those of you that know me fairly decently will know who he is, but at least I'm not throwing his name out there into blogosphere for all the world to see. So from now on, my ex-husband is *Brad. And here's why - (prepare yourself for the first of many mildly amusing sidenotes) My ex-husband cheated on me at approximately the same time that Brad Pitt cheated on Jennifer Aniston. So Jennifer and I are divorce buddies. BFF's, really. Except, of course, she doesn't know. But once their story broke, I clung to it like a drowning sailor because - thankfully - I wasn't going through this alone. I had Jen. I will to this day still buy any gossip mag at the checkout at Meijers that has a Jen story on the cover. A few months ago, there was an online poll about who wore their little black dress better - Jen or Angelina. I voted for Jen 159 times. (I was just too tired to vote once more to make it an even 160.) So to reel in my tangent, in honor of my (in my mind) BFF Jen, we will rename my ex - Brad.
So that is my opening story - the tale of Jen and I. I have many more to come.....strange divorce moments, full out hysterical tales of re-entering the dating world, the story of night Emily and I almost became sailors....and how through it all, my guardian angel was putting in some serious overtime.
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