Yet Another Break Up Text

I used to think it was like a super power I had to find these douchebags who don’t have enough respect to pick up the phone and have a proper break up, but I’m really starting to think I’m not special, that all men in their 30’s are just assholes. Seriously. After leaving me hanging for hours, I then get the Facebook message, I just don’t think things are going to work between us. Not a phone call, not a conversation, a Facebook message. Seriously? I thought I was dealing with an adult here?

So I replied, with that information would have been nice to have before Friday, and can you please drop my glasses in the mail. That’s it. no fanfare, no Facebook message tears. Because, while I am crying, I will NOT be disrespected like that and then show you that you had the power to hurt me. So a few hours after that…comes this:

Seriously? So while you were telling me not to stop, I was supposed to hear, what, exactly?? You just accused me of forcing myself on you, and of basically being a slut, all in one fell swoop. And you couldn’t talk to me about it, you needed to tell me it wasn’t going to work out before bringing it up in the first place? And all those times I asked you to do things that DIDN’T involve sex…. Like last weekend, when I asked you to come over and I was on the 10th day of the period from hell, I was hurting, and so not feeling sexy, and you decided at the last minute it was too late to come over but you stayed up on the phone with me for 3 more hours…..Or this coming weekend when we were supposed to go bowling with friends, and you definitely couldn’t stay, because my parents will be here (and that’s just weird) But you just blew that too….Or how about when I wanted to go to the movies, but you were conveniently busy until it was too late to do much of anything (except sex)?

All the times I worried, and asked you, if you were just in it for sex…was because sex was the only thing you really responded to. Cute sappy stuff like “The reason your fingers have space between them is so another’s can fill it” went unacknowledged, however a dirty meme got a lightning fast response. And if we’re sleeping in the same bed, then, hell yes, I want that connection, is that really wrong? So, please, tell me why I wasn’t good enough for you? Why I was so low on the respect scale that I warranted a break up message instead of, at the very least, a phone call? How is it that 4 months after we started talking, and two months into dating, that now suddenly we won’t “click”? What is it exactly that makes me so unlovable? Unworthy of respect and good etiquette? Why am I sitting here crying over some guy who couldn’t give me what I deserve? Do I just not deserve it? Are my standards too high? Seriously WHAT IS IT?

The 4 Worst Words

“We need to talk”

I swear they’re the four worst words in the human language. I would imagine they sound just as panic inducing in ANY language; English, Spanish, Portuguese, French, German, Russian, etc. So I spent a very nice night with RH on Friday. Because he was still feeling stuffy, I made homemade chicken soup, while he was at work, and we watched a movie, went to bed. (You don’t really want the details of THAT, but it was fun!) But there were little things; like he never checked his phone around me (I have to admit, that part was nice, and I wouldn’t have thought anything about it, except for when I got those 4 little words, technically 5 words, in this case)

And in the morning, he made me breakfast, and kissed me goodbye, before I left to pick up my little monsters. Then, I didn’t hear anything from him. Until I realized I left my glasses there, and I texted him. His reply: “oops”. My subsequent jokes about my forgetfulness, and saying that maybe I just left them to have an excuse for him to come over, was met with…….”Maybe I’ll drop them off tomorrow” EIGHT HOURS LATER. OK, maybe he was busy. No biggie, not going to worry about it, much.

I saw that reply this morning, and I responded with “That would be really nice”.

And a few hours later, I said I would make dinner and he could sleep over if he wanted….

The reply? “I don’t think I’m going to have time to stop by today”

Me: Ok, everything OK?

Him: What do you mean?

Me: I didn’t mean anything

Him: Everything’s fine

Me: (thumbs up)

Him: (thumbs up)

Me: Goofball

Him:As soon as I get time I need to talk to you, k?

And then the internal panic set in. I mean, aside from the dismissive tone of “when I get time”, I need to talk to you is the same as we need to talk and it’s almost never a good sign. What do you need to tell me? There’s the standard: I’m not happy, this isn’t going anywhere, I’m getting back with my ex, etc. There’s the doomsday: I have an STD, incurable disease, or some other life threatening something or other. And there’s the unlikely: You’re perfect and I want to make this official, what’s your ring size?

So which is it, you ask? I don’t know, because apparently there hasn’t been time to talk to me yet……

I Miss Mayberry

There is a story in my family. It’s a great story, but I have no idea if it’s true. My grandparents met in the midst of WWII, out dancing, at a nightclub in Salt Lake City. My grandfather was shipping out soon, and they had a one night stand. My grandmother got pregnant, and told him one month later, they got married, he shipped out, and eight months or so  later, my uncle was born. The timeline works, but…. no one wants to think their grandparents had a one night stand. Anyways they were happy for almost 50 years until my grandmother passed away. I only ever once saw my grandparents argue. And it wasn’t really an argument. My grandfather swore at me, and grandma was having none of that.

My entire view of relationships was totally Mayberry. My parents have been married almost 40 years, all of my aunts and uncles even longer. I only had 1 friend growing up that had divorced parents, her dad was never around, and her step dad was so awesome, it never occurred to me that being single was an option.

Everyone complains that divorce rates are up, and that no one is in it for the long haul anymore…and that’s true. People are lazy nowadays, and no one wants to work for something great. People expect this magical relationship to be handed to them on a silver platter. Find someone who bends over backwards to make you happy, while you just sit around and do nothing. Because you shouldn’t have to put in any effort. It should be easy. Well, no wonder relationships don’t work. No one is putting in any effort. He thinks putting in effort will make him look “thirsty”, and she thinks putting in effort will make her look “bitchy”. So, no one wins, and everybody is still lonely. Now what?

Oh I know! Let’s turn to online dating. I’m sure to meet someone on there, right? RIGHT! You’ll meet hundreds (literally hundreds) of potential matches, no matter what you’re searching for. Looking for a hook up? No problem, so are lots of people. Looking for a pen pal? We’ve got that too! Looking for someone to marry? Got some of those too! And if we don’t have exactly what you’re looking for, it’s ok, you just need to relax your search criteria (read: standards), and we can find someone for you. And no mater what, we’ll keep sending you emails, reminding you we’re here, just in case that date isn’t perfect. Or, in case you get bored, or whatever. You can always come back, and try again. And again, and again.

The real problem with online dating is the fact that there’s just SO MANY lonely people put there. You don’t have to make a real connection, or put any work or any respect into it because if it all falls apart, there are 100 MORE people, better, hotter, more eager to take that other person’s place. You’ve got a nice rhythm going but he’s not paying enough attention to you? Why would you talk to him about it? If you say something to him about it, he’ll just call you clingy and bitchy, don’t worry about it, here’s 10 more guys who’ll be happy to pay attention to you for the moment. You’ve got an amazing spark but she’s got kids and has a hard time getting time away? Eeek! Who wants that? Why tell her you’d like to spend time with just her, and arrange something? Taking the initiative is just too much work! Just ignore her, and pay attention to the 20 hotties over here with NO kids.

What happened to the “good ‘ol days”, when you’d meet someone at a party, or the store, or a coffee shop, feel a spark, go on a date, and then another, and another, until it blossomed into something special. Now we are all inundated with this obscene amount of prospective “dates”, while on our never ending quest to find something “easy”. It’s a major stroke to your ego to hear your phone ping, and find a message on there from some cutie, who says he’d like to meet you. And then you’re so busy obsessing over the cutie who’d “like” to meet you, that you’re missing out on the cutie who actually took the time to meet you.

In this age of instant gratification; where every time you make a post on FaceBook or Instagram, you wait for that little notification saying someone liked it, or commented, or anything to justify your social media presence. And people are starting to look at relationships that way too. It should be instant (but not too instant). And easy. Just copy and paste from somewhere else, and when you like it, great we can keep going til you realize I’m not going to let you look below the surface. Or til I start “catching feelings” (WTH does that mean anyways?) Then we will go on our merry way, pretending none of this really happened, because it wasn’t a “real” relationship anyways.

*NOTE: This was an unpublished draft I had saved, and I’m publishing it now because I’m too tired to write anything new

My Inner Vixen is a B****

It would appear, sorta, that RH and I are good, I think. Neither of us has messaged much, and neither of us has called…which would be strange; but his new night schedule has us working totally opposite hours, and I don’t leave work til after he starts. But we HAVE messaged, and, as of right now are still on for date night tomorrow. As of right now. So I went to the grocery store, and bought the stuff I need to make dinner tomorrow night. Because, for once, I will be kid free, for a WHOLE NIGHT! Whatever will we do? 😉 (Psst, don’t expect any posts tomorrow night, because, hopefully, I will be GETTIN BUSY!)

I love my kids, more than anything. And every day I am grateful that I made the choice to move us way out here, 2000 miles from almost everyone we know, so that we can have a better life. I really am. But there are the days, the days when my now 12 year old back talks one too many times, or when I’ve not been feeling well for two weeks, and my almost 7 year old decides she’d rather play video games than clean her room (I’m not sure where she found that GameBoy, or how the damn thing even still works, but it almost went into the garbage disposal). On those days my inner vixen wants to wrap them up with duct tape and go dancing.

And it makes my inner vixen nervous, this whole meh communication thing. As a single mom, nights off are few and far between, and so my time on those days is precious. Because odds are I’ve had to bribe a kid, or call in a favor, just to have a few kid free hours with this guy (and even a few to myself, yay! night schedule). And dammit I want it to be worth it. I want to feel wanted, I want him to push me up against the wall and do dirty things to me, because, dammit I’ve earned it. I have earned the right to be ravaged, to feel sexy, to feel like a woman, to scream as loud as I need to, to fall asleep in someones arms and wake up there, on my own schedule (sorta). Does that sound selfish? Probably. But I don’t care.

So when he says “my head is stuffy”, I totally braced for the “I’m cancelling tomorrow”, but it didn’t come. Which makes me think definitely. Which is good, except he’s leaving work early tonight. Which is where the maybe part comes in. But he still hasn’t said it, and that gives me hope, sorta. I’m pretty sure it makes me a bad person to be a little bit upset he doesn’t feel well, but we’ve been planning this night for a week and a half, and while my outer human being says “I hope you feel better soon”,my teeny, tiny, inner vixen is screaming bloody murder, and having a temper tantrum at the thought of having to cancel this date.

I Want You To Want Me

I love that song. It gets stuck in my head every time I hear it. And today, it got stuck in my head, on repeat, like an epiphany of sorts.

So, RH, this guy I’ve been dating. He’s great, really, he is. But he’s got issues (like every other single 30 something on the planet) His ex gf, of 4 years, up and kicked him out, no explanation, nothing. Almost a year ago. And he’s afraid to get hurt again, but he’s not just looking for sex. Well, ok. Reasonable. Mostly. Right?

And yet, today, we were joking about this picture:

And then he pops off with don’t Google that! So, of course, I did. And I sent him the first picture in the Google search. And said, it wasn’t as bad as he made it out to be.To which he wanted to know how I got that angle? When I said, no, that’s not a picture of me, but, at the same time, that angle is not THAT hard to get….(which was followed by some more teasing conversation) then he said, (and I quote)  “Now let’s see that crazy angle you can get on that camera phone, you can do it”

And I did it. I really did it. It scared me. It was like opening up a whole host of major vulnerabilities. I mean, what if there’s visible stretch marks? or a spot I missed shaving, or God forbid, a ingrown hair??? What if I just did this major thing, and I totally get rejected. Which, you might think is a little far fetched, because we’ve been dating for a little while,and he’s seen me naked, but still….

And then, his response to said photograph was this:

Followed by “well, you got the angle right” and “who did you get to take the picture for you? lol” To which, I pointed out, “I took a really personal picture for you, and after the slow clap of death, your response was “well, you got the angle right”” He said he was just following the teasing from before, and I said, first you compliment, THEN you tease…

To which I got ” O forget it. I didn’t ask for the pic. I just commented on the pic you sent though google. night.”  And then, I said he was right, and apologized for overreacting. And then I reread the conversation. And then I thought about it, a lot. And while, he DID ask for said photo, I DID overreact. But, the question is, why?

And then I figured it out. I want what everyone wants. I want to be wanted. I want to feel like this person I’m opening myself up to actually wants me. And I’m not getting that. Because every time I get to feeling good about the whole thing, he reminds me about how much this ex gf hurt him. And how he’s afraid to get hurt, and how he doesn’t want to open himself up to that again.But next day rolls around, and he’s back to normal. *NEWSFLASH* We all have scars. And somewhere, there is always someone who has it worse. I’ve got scars. Lots of em. Worse than some, better than others. But they don’t define everything about me. Are those scars the reason I overreacted? Probably. But is that an excuse? No. Which is why I apologized.  But I don’t know how to maneuver my way around this. I don’t know how to be in a relationship, and yet not be totally in it. Is there a manual I can read somewhere?

And where is the understanding for MY issues? (Like I said, all single 30 somethings have ’em, I’m no exception) I’m ok (not great) with slowly feeling things out, and letting him work through his issues on his own time. But at the same time, I would like SOMETHING to tell me I’m on the right track, that I’m not just being toyed with. A random compliment, the occasional quickie, an “oh baby”, ANY THING that tells me I’m not wasting my time. Because I understand the desire to not want to be hurt again. I have been through my share of douche   bags, and, realistically, I don’t think any one ever sets out intending to get hurt. Because, who’d want that? But, I’d rather be hurt a hundred times and find something worth having, then to let it pass by because I was too afraid of it.

The scariest thing in the world (to me) is to put yourself out there for someone, with no clue how they’re feeling. Well, maybe scariest after spiders…..

I’m An Addict

Hello My Name is Inigo Montoya (you killed my father, prepare to die), and I’m an addict. I’m totally addicted to the soft fuzzies you get from the oxytocin released in your brain after good sex (or even mediocre sex, for that matter). And I find myself chasing the high you get when you feel wanted, desired, needed, or dare I even say it, loved.Unfortunately (or, fortunately) I can’t quite seem to be able to reach that high unless I’m feeling secure in a relationship. Which kinda sucks, cause in between I’m seriously jonesing.

Which leads to some bad choices on my part. This is a serious problem. I’ve dated guys who complain about my sex drive when I’m in a relationship (seriously,  he said it was too high-who says that?!?) But I can’t help it. There’s something stress relieving and happy inducing about it, better than any prescription anti depressant. Is it really terrible to have sex 4 times a day? Apparently. Maybe I should switch to Zoloft….

Because there are days, where I really want my 2.2 kids, and my white picket fence, and a dog and a life partner. I’m not trying to discount my blessings, I have 2 beautiful children, complete with picket fence (well, chain link, but who cares?), and we’re getting a dog later this year….what more could I want?

My very own, built in, Zoloft dispenser, that’s what! Seriously, regular sex makes me a better employee, better person, better mother, better everything. Zoloft in the form of a tall, tattooed, slightly unshaven man…….

Read The Fine Print

What’s the purpose of dating? I mean, way down deep at the core, what’s the point? To find someone, right? Because people are meant to be together. I saw something similar on another blog http://iquitdating.com/2014/10/18/swiping-soulmates-tinder-tumble-six-date-stumble-part-iv/

And as I was reading, a lot of the stuff she said resonated with me. And then I realized it applied to all of my single girlfriends in their 30’s too. We are not dating to “sow our wild oats”, no matter what the world says we should do. We are not “embracing” our femininity by bed hopping, we’ve reached the age and stage where we are looking for stability.  Not for a ring, or any major declaration of commitment even, just someone to talk to, hold hands with, maybe make out sessions. And so we join these dating websites, hoping that we can meet someone who’s looking for the same thing.

But most dating sites are geared towards men. You put up a picture and hope some guy likes it enough to ask you out. You use different pictures, from parties with your margarita, from crazy nights out with your friends, because everyone wants to seem fun. But the reality is at least 29 days of the month, I’m at home, with my kids, cooking dinner, helping with homework, reading a book, taking a bubble bath, or watching netflix. But who wants to see pictures of that?

Except that’s the real me. My head is buried in a book (if I can find the time), or I’m playing with my munchkins, or I’m zoning out on TV. I’m fun (so my friends tell me), but I’m not a partier. So why do we feel the need to put up pictures that aren’t really the real us? What would happen if every woman on a dating site put up a “real” picture of themselves? We’d all get rejected. Because that’s not what men are looking for.

The want the hottest chick they can find. They aren’t actually reading your profile. They are just looking at your picture. I’ve had questions about how big my boobs are, to if I want to meet for drinks, and if I’m really 6’0″. In my profile it says that I’m 6’0″ THREE times. It also says I want a serious relationship, and I don’t drink. Seriously. read the fine print.

But maybe I should have pictures of me vegging on the couch, or playing with my kids, or reading a book. Then they wouldn’t have to read the fine print, and they’d know exactly who they were talking to to begin with…..

We Don’t Swim In Your Toilet……..

….SO  please STOP peeing in the dating pool!

Seriously. So your girlfriend of 4 years left you because she only wanted your money (and you ran out of it)…..9 months ago. I’m very sorry, that sucks. But, as an ADULT, you got over it, and decided to move on. And then you joined a dating site, met some women, complained about being single, swore you weren’t looking for a hookup….and NOW (after you’ve met my kids, and I’ve met yours), you realize you’re just not cut out for a relationship? You have too much emotional baggage for any sort of a relationship? It’s not me, it’s you? Oh, wait, you said you didn’t mean any of that, you were just having a bad day? You’re right, it IS you.

I’ve got shocking news for you, buddy. The dating pool is NOT your personal playground! And a woman’s feelings are not toys you can pick up, play with and set down at your leisure. This is not a testing ground to see if you’re ready to move on. If you still need training wheels, go play with the little kids in the sandbox, and leave the adults alone. If you just want some company for the night, go to a bar, there’s plenty of them around.  But while you’re complaining to me about your “emotional baggage”, you’re still trolling for girls on instagram, and crying “woe is me, I hate the single life” on Facebook…I see it every time my newsfeed opens.

Who does that? Children looking for attention, little boys who want to pretend they are potty trained and secretly pee in the pool. I don’t want to swim in your toilet.

And when I say, “When you have a bad day, you want to check out, when I have a bad day I want to connect, and I’m honestly not sure what to say/do when you check out. Apparently, we have different ways of coping with stress. But, I do like you, and I’d like to see where this is going. I don’t mean that in an “I want to move in together, have babies and get married” sort of way. Its a “I like getting to know you, and I’d like to keep getting to know you”. But I’m getting mixed signals from you, and I don’t know what else to do, but to say something.”

And your response is “Sorry”. Just that. One word. Sorry for what? Sorry we cope with stress differently? Sorry this isn’t working for you? Sorry for sending mixed signals? SORRY FOR WHAT EXACTLY? I shouldn’t have to ask. Sorry is just a word, it’s true meaning is in the actions behind it.

If you’re not ready for a relationship, get out of the dating pool. If it’s me, be man enough to say so, if you’re just playing, grow the fuck up and quit peeing in the pool.

Shut UP Pooh!

Ok, so it’s actually a Christopher Robin quote, but you get the gist, right?

And I will probably regret writing all of this in the morning, but, hey, that’s what margaritas are for.

When I was 20, I was dating my now ex husband and we got pregnant. SCARY! And I certainly didn’t feel brave, or strong, or smart at the time. It took forever to get a doctor appointment, and when I finally did, they made me go get blood drawn every day, for a week. I don’t know about you, but I have these tiny veins. Even giving blood is a chore, they have to use a pediatric needle, so when they couldn’t find a good vein in my arm, they just tapped the veins in my hand. EVERY. DAY. And it hurt. But I didn’t know what they were looking for, or that it wasn’t normal, so I felt scared, and confused, and in pain.

When we finally got to see the doctor, and do an ultrasound, while we were there, with the “magic wand” ultrasound, watching this flickering little jelly bean, and suddenly, I DID feel brave and strong and smart. We could totally do this. Then something on the tech’s face made me pause. And I waited, and waited, and after what seemed like an eternity, the doctor finally pointed out that the flickering wasn’t normal. The baby’s heart was stopping. Often. And while we were watching, and processing what that meant, it stopped altogether, and didn’t start again. I have never felt more helpless, scared and stupid in my entire life. I had no idea what was going on, I couldn’t process the term “Heartbeat stopped”, I was terrified, and heartbroken. So very devastated. I wondered if God was punishing me for having premarital sex. No joke.

They did a DNC because my body didn’t understand what it was supposed to do now. And I lost it. Completely fell apart. And the man I wound up marrying, slept with someone else. And told me it was because I’d gone crazy and he just couldn’t tolerate it, but he stayed with me, because he felt like he should, after all I’d been through, and no one else would be there for me. By then I was so broken, I bought that. And I learned to hide my emotions, way down deep. I learned that sex was a great stress reliever, and I worked hard to prove I wasn’t crazy, and that I was desirable, lovable. And it worked, for a while.

Later, we got married, moved to Europe, and tried to have a baby. But my body wouldn’t cooperate. Didn’t want to get pregnant. Until  right before he left on a LONG deployment. And I mean right before, like 2 days before. And, again, I was terrified. Because, what if it happened again? I would be on my own, with no one forcing me to keep up this facade of normal.  And if I went off the deep end, he wouldn’t love me anymore, no one would. Because I was broken.

I suck at being pregnant. My body hates it. I get morning sickness so bad, I have to take anti nausea meds just to keep down anything. So you can imagine, I was always bright and chipper when he called, and NEVER asleep, or just plain cranky. Who am I kidding? Have you ever thrown up 12 times a day for 5 months straight? I did, for the whole pregnancy. It became part of my daily routine;  wake up, puke, brush teeth, puke, brush again, drive to work, puke in a cup in the car (no place to pull over on the Autobahn), so I’m sure I wasn’t much fun. But when he cheated then, it was because I wasn’t there for him, and he needed me. I was always asleep, or not feeling good, and he needed someone to pay attention to him. And I stayed, because there was the added pressure I was pregnant, and there was nowhere to go. Or so I was told. And I was weak, and scared and stupid, and I thought he was right.

You see the pattern, right? I didn’t. After my DS was born, it became that I wasn’t losing the weight fast enough, that I was lazy, that we weren’t having sex often enough. I didn’t do as much for him as she (pick one) did, I wasn’t as sexy…..but he stayed, for DS, because I was a horrible parent, and because he felt sorry for me, I mean where else was I going to go? Fast forward through another painful miscarriage (seriously, I can’t even type about that one without bawling like a baby), to the affair that damn near killed me.

I knew it. Long before he admitted to it, I knew it. And I acted like a jealous wife, and pushed and pushed and pushed, and he denied, denied, denied. And he moved out. And I said marriage counseling. He agreed, which should have been my first clue. So we get to the counselors office, and he starts telling her MY life story. About how my mom used to  leave my dad for like a week at a time, like often. And how that’s led me to have abandonment issues, and he’s NOT having an affair, but I won’t stop badgering him about it,.. I’m insanely jealous of EVERYONE and he’s just a good guy who loves his wife and DS. And she finally told me that he’s not having an affair, and it’s just MY issues that are creating all the problems in our marriage.  And for a brief second, it was like I woke up. I was suddenly on a mission to prove I WASN’T crazy. And, then I had what I needed. Proof. Cold hard proof, not that he was having an affair, or systematically breaking me down (I didn’t even think of it like that), I had proof that I wasn’t losing my mind. And after I brought it to counseling an heard her tell the ex that what he did was really really wrong (I don’t remember the exact terminology). I realized I should probably get the hell out of this relationship. It was hard, but dammit, I was braver than I believed, stronger than I seemed and smarter than I thought, right? WRONG.

Because then it was my worst fear come true. All those times I was a horrible parent, when I was depressed over the loss of another baby, it affected our DS. And so, he was going to take him away from me, unless I stayed. I wasn’t brave enough, or strong enough, or smart enough to fight over that. I believed him, I really did, I worried that DS would see how miserable I was, that one day he would grow up to be either  a door mat like his mother, or a steam roller, like his father. I worried I wasn’t paying enough attention to him when I went to hide and cry in the bathroom. I worried that .every time he fell down and scraped something, that someone, somewhere, would see what the ex saw, that I wasn’t a fit parent So I went back. And I built an awesome (if I do say so myself) facade of a happy wife and mother.

And a year and another miscarriage later, you could barely tell it registered on my radar. We had sex 3-4 times a week, and I cried myself to sleep most times. I put on makeup and sexy clothes just before he came home, so he wouldn’t ask what I’d been doing all day. I tried making dinner all the time, tried being the perfect wife. And I failed. Miserably. Every time the house wasn’t clean, I heard about it. Dishes left in the sink?  Oh my God, did I expect him to do everything? The baby was crying? What DID I DO? And instead of fighting, or standing up for myself, I worked harder. Until I became a shell of myself. Nothing there but what you see on the surface.

Then I got pregnant, again. And I knew it. The first time I threw up, I knew exactly what was happening. And I took it easy. Super easy. Sweat pants and no sex easy. Even though a part of my brain made the correlation between no sex and him having another affair, my brain also knew, that didn’t really matter to him, it was just an excuse. But I wasn’t brave; I wouldn’t look at the early ultrasounds (and as a high risk pregnancy, there were a lot), and I wasn’t strong, I KNEW another miscarriage would kill me. If I  didn’t hemorrhage, I would probably die of a broken heart. And I wasn’t smart, the only things that mattered were DS and that baby growing inside me. Once I made it past the “safety zone”, I became elated, and filled out that facade I’d been wearing for so long. I seriously thought nothing in the world could go wrong. I got better at ignoring the constant criticism from the ex, nothing could get inside the bubble I’d created. And when DD was born, all was right with the world. (This is MY fairy tale, let me tell it however I want)

Then came another pregnancy, another miscarriage, and another affair. One I couldn’t ignore. She seriously wouldn’t go away, and was intent on popping my bubble. If I tried mentioning (ok nagging, whining and complaining about) her, I was told (again) that I was just being jealous for no reason. Plus she was pretty, and sexy, and her eyes were just amazing, so it’s totally understandable that I was jealous, he’d forgive me. Seriously. Then they left for a deployment. Together. And, yup, I kinda lost my mind, a little. But then, one day, he made mention of the fact that I shouldn’t tell their superiors my suspicions, because he’d already warned them about me. Wait, this is starting to sound familiar, right? Yeah, to me too. And I started to wake up. Slowly. Painfully slowly (according to my close friends).

And one day, while talking to a mutual friend, MF told me there was no way ex was leaving me for this troll (yup, those were his words) because I was beautiful, and sexy and smart. And my brain jolted. Holy crap. Someone thinks I’m beautiful, and smart, and sexy. Someone thinks I’m beautiful and smart and sexy. I kinda walked around in a daze for a few days with that one, repeating it to myself over and over. I hadn’t heard a compliment in so long, I wasn’t even sure what that feeling was anymore, but I liked it. Eventually I remembered, holy shit, I AM smart. Where did I forget that? And someone thinks I’m sexy. Someone I’ve never slept with, someone who has no idea what I looked like before kids. He only knows me, right here, right now, and he thinks I’m beautiful, and sexy and smart. How come my husband doesn’t think that? Oh yeah, because he was distracted by the evil treasure troll. And then DD told me all married men have girlfriends. She was 3. I was horrified. That’s what I was teaching my daughter, that it was ok to be treated this way. And my son? I was teaching him that it was ok to  treat his wife that way? Oh hell, no. There is nothing braver, stronger or smarter than a mamma bear protecting her cubs. Or, maybe it’s just brute force, ignorance and a little bit of luck.

And when TT and the ex got back from their deployment, and I had one foot out the door, he tried (and almost succeeded) in getting me to stay by reminding me how fat, stupid, weak and unlovable I really was. TT went to the gym with him, I didn’t (never mind we had 2 small children, no daycare and they were using the gym at their work) I didn’t finish school (got married, had kids, built a life, the plan was to go back to school after ex finished his school) I had no job (quit working after DD was born, too expensive to have 2 kids in daycare) and no skills, where would I go? These were the things he said to me. And while I felt the sting, now I knew I was strong enough not to be beat down any more. I remembered I had worth, and I was certainly worth more than this. And I packed up my kids and I left the state.

It wasn’t bravery. It was sheer self-preservation. Because if I stayed around him, eventually he would convince me I was stupid and unattractive and unlovable and no one but him would ever want me. It didn’t take strength, it was fueled by fear. Fear that I would go back to being that empty shell. And it wasn’t smart. I didn’t think it through. I left everyone and everything I know to start all over. And I thought I was brave and strong and smart. But I’m terrified, and weak, and stupid, and I said yes. And I feel the tornado coming, and I don’t have a storm cellar to hide in. So Christopher Robin can take his bravery, strength, and intelligence and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine.

It’s Raining Men….

Seriously. It’s raining men in my life right now. And it’s so not a good thing. Where did all these people come from, you ask, and how did they get my number? Well, silly, I invited them into my life, and, I gave them my number, of course.

I’m pretty sure it’s evident (and reasonably well documented) that I suck at dating. But there’s this guy…. Wait, I’m getting ahead of myself. First I should cover all the large raindrops, killer hail, and whatever other crazy weather conditions you want to identify these…. people falling from the sky.

EX: Yep. That one. The one I spent 14 years of my life with, who cheated, was mentally and emotionally abusive (that’s a whole other post), couldn’t pay his full child support (insert random reason here), and just all around put me through hell. Well, apparently, his gf cheated on HIM (surprise, surprise), and NOW he realizes what a HUGE mistake he made (his words, I actually think it was one f the best decisions he’s ever made), and he’s so terribly sorry, and he’s going to move out here, and can he crash on my couch till he gets on his feet (oh, and maybe I’d let him take me on a date or something)?!?!?!  And, you know what I said? I said yes, you can stay on my couch till you get on your feet. Because, it would be good for the kids to see their dad more often, an it would probably be good for me to get a break once in a while. I did say no to the date thing, though…because I’m not totally stupid, and, well, there’s this guy…..(yup, I know what you’re thinking, go ahead and say it) Weather Advisory=Tornado incoming

1stL: When I was 17, I met this guy, this amazing wonderful man, who made me feel all the things you’re supposed to feel with a first love. But, I wanted to get married, raise a family, and he wanted to go home to England, and we parted ways, tucking each other away, like you’re supposed to do with a first love. But 3 years ago, we reconnected, it was amazing, and powerful, and, apparently, not enough. He went on to get married, and now suddenly is possessed with an overwhelming desire to come here and cheat on his wife (I could spend a year writing about the complicated-ness of this whole thing) And while the thought of this guy is tempting (not gonna lie), there’s the whole morality issue with his WIFE! Plus, well, there’s this one guy……Weather Advisory: White Out Blizzard Conditions

CP: The Commitment Phobe. I was dating this guy over the summer, he was nice (sorta), but seriously afraid of the word commitment. Like break out in hives afraid. And he randomly texts me, and suddenly wants to come over…..Tried to tell me it was on his bucket list to hold me while he was sleeping. And when I pointed out that he’d done that, several times, he balked. Because he sleeps with so many women that he can’t keep them straight. This one wouldn’t be tempting even if he were the last man on the planet….Weather Advisory: Mildly Annoying Scattered Showers

NG: The Nice Guy: He’s so in the friend zone. Poor guy. I’ve told him, but he keeps trying. You’ve got to admire his persistence, and he really is a nice guy. There’s just no attraction there. Which may be in part to this guy…..Weather Advisory: Sunshine

QG: Questionable Guy: This guy also keeps trying, but there’s something…just off, about him. I can’t put my finger on it but something made me shy away from actually going out with this guy. He seems nice, but sometimes, I hear something in his voice, like maybe anger issues or something, but I’m trusting my gut and keeping my distance. Also, can’t guarantee it isn’t because I’d rather spend my time with this other guy… Weather Advisory: Scattered Clouds

PAT: This guy is nuts. Just plain nuts. Thankfully he lives far away and I just don’t answer when he calls or reply to is texts. Which come in EVERY. DAMN.DAY. One phone conversation and this guy just got clingy and psycho. Calling every 10 minutes if I didn’t respond fast enough to a text. Not good. And…*ding* goes my phone even as I type this…Weather Advisory: Inclement

RPOF: Random POF guys who’ve suddenly decided that the holidays are over (or something) and have suddenly rediscovered my number. When I was first starting this online dating adventure, I didn’t think too much about giving out my number, now, I know better….They vary in crazy levels. Weather Advisory: Scattered Showers.

RH: Then there’s this guy. Attraction Level: HIGH .The sex? Ah-MAZING. Everything that sex should be, soft, slow, passionate, rough. Simply euphoria inducing. Plus, he’s kinda hot (at least to me) Compatibility Level: HIGH He reads, which is good (for me), we like some of the same stuff, and have different enough tastes in other things to keep it interesting.  Plus, I really like his dog. We’re good with chilling and chatting, talking about everything from sex to kids to pets to appliances and decorating, cuddling watching movies, or TV, we’ve cooked for one another, we play, and laugh, and typically have a good time.  But…. he’s got some issues (don’t they all?) The other day, he was having a shitty day, and sent me all these (please forgive me) emo messages. Now, I try to never read between the lines, especially in something that’s been typed out. Because there’s no fonts for voice inflection or emphasis. So, I asked. What are you saying? To which he replied that he was just having a shitty day. Then he checked out for the rest of the day. Then last night, he asked me to come over, and everything was good. Then today, we’re back to being checked out. And I kinda want to lay it all out on the line, but at the same time, saying things like “Hey,I’m liking this, and I’d like to continue and see where it goes” Tends to get misconstrued as “I want to move in together and have your babies, RIGHT NOW” But, I’m totally getting mixed signals, and I feel lost and completely off balance with this whole situation. And I keep putting off these other guys, and I deleted my POF account, and honestly…this guy…wow, it could be something amazing, like rainbows and sunshine, or it could wind up being the earthquake followed by the tsunami, and the mudslides.