I'm back from my self-imposed hiatus. Thanks to all of you who so patiently and kindly bombarded my inbox with hate email, especially those who called me lazy and forgetful. Those were a true joy to read. :-)
Anyway, the last few days have been, ummm, interesting. So much so that I experienced a minor health misfunction, as indicated in the above title. Well, okay, my head didn't actually explode...but I'm sure some sort of internal damage was done.
Here's a run-down of the things I have experienced in the last five days: Two friends (scratch that...one friend, one soon-to-be mortal enemy) conducting a righteous public dispute, learning that a new friend of mine is actively involved with "extra-curricular" activities, being harrassed by my son's assistant baseball coach, having my first "misunderstanding" and subsequent first conflict resolution exercise with hot new guy, and the Ex announcing his plans to co-habitat with me during the 4th of July holiday.
First off, last Thursday, I had a phone conversation with New Guy that quickly turned into something reminiscent of a botched science experiment. He was very short with me on the phone which turned me into Miss Paranoid, further influencing his weirdness. During the conversation, he also told me he wasn't free on Friday due to kid commitments, and we made plans to try to get together on Saturday. He would call. Then we hung up. Then I spent the next hour frantically worrying about the phone call. So I called him back. (SIDEBAR: I know, I know. This was probably NOT a good move. But it will all work out for the better - read on.) We talked and this time it was better, but still something was off. That's when my ulcer formed...
Friday, I took the day off work to take the kids to the pool. I made plans to go with Kelly and subsequently rounded up all the kids, a couple bottles of sunscreen, 72 juice boxes and whatever non-melting snacks I could rummage together. We piled in the car and headed to the pool. Kelly was to come later. Meanwhile, my other friend, Kathleen, was already there. Before getting too far into this story, I must mention that Kelly & Kathleen recently had a huge blow-up during which they called each other names and insulted each other in ways only two women could manage. I'm sure you understand. Anyway, I went over and sat with Kathleen at the edge of the pool. A short while later, Kelly arrived and made her way over to us. She sat down on the other side of me and casually began to make small talk. Until Kathleen turned and completely ripped her head off. I'm pretty sure I'm not exaggerating that, either. She kept at her, despite the fact that Kelly was trying to smooth over the situation, saying she was quite over it and that nothing was wrong. So, naturally, Kathleen proceeded to call her a liar, and continued on her rampage. That's about when Kelly decided she'd had enough, promptly told her as much, and calmly walked away from the situation. Leaving me there alone. And that's when my spleen ruptured...
Nonetheless, Friday night I took my ulcer and ruptured spleen to a local bar with my new friend, P. She is a stay-at-home mom with two kids and a life spent driving her SUV to the fitness club before spending the rest of the afternoon lounging beside her swimming pool. She is tons of fun to talk to and she's very cute. Which is mainly why I was shocked when she told me about her extra-marital affairs. And, oh, did she ever go into detail. She told me who she targets, how she finds them, what she does to get them, what they like to "do," and so on. And I'm pretty sure she was trying to hook me into going along for the ride. Which didn't happen - especially since the Assistant Baseball Coach/Stalker invaded our little get-together. This guy has been calling my cell phone for the last several days, asking what my plans are and when and where the next get-together might be. And even though I told him Friday afternoon that I was NOT comfortable with him being there, he showed up anyway. And drank lots of beer... And told us stories about his unhappy marriage... And totally hit on P... And then left after she politely told him "No, thank you." Ugh. That's when my appendix burst...
So onto Saturday. I took the kids to the pool again so I wouldn't have to worry about New Guy as much. I still worried about it, of course, but making sure two young children didn't drown required just enough mental focus to keep my mind off the other situation. I made the mistake of taking along the latest issue of Cosmo for reading material. In case you don't know this already, it's not a good idea to read Cosmo when you are having guy problems. Which is how I ended up eating Cheese Nachos, Ice Cream, and a slice of Pepperoni Pizza from the concession stand. And guess what? He didn't call. So four hours and four pounds of food later, we went home. At 5:30 p.m., I launched into full panic mode. And then, at 5:45 p.m., he called. And we had THE BEST conversation. Whew! No big whoop. All is good. He was busy with a friend's birthday, and I earned crucial potential-girlfriend bonus points by urging him to go out with his friends. I would be okay, I don't mind that stuff, I was just glad to talk to him, etc. So he promised to call me during the night, and followed through. Very cool.
But during this conversation, the real deal about Thursday came out. His sister had called him immedately before me and freaked him out about something she thought I said. And that's when the seizures started. But we had an actual discussion about it and talked it all the way through. This is the part I refer to as the Conflict Resolution Exercise. And it cleared the air, set us back on track, and ended with him being his usual sweet, romantic self. Ahhhhhhhh.
The rest of the weekend was good, except when Ex called to inform me that he would be coming to visit the kids and staying at my house over the 4th of July holiday. Then my head exploded... I am currently on a campaign to either have his car break down or figure out a way to vaporize myself before that happens.
So, see why I have been on hiatus? I needed some time to decompress. I'm sorry for taking so long to update you on the situations at hand. But see what you got in return? The Longest Blog Entry Ever Written (this thing could probably win awards).
If anybody has any advice on fixing the above-mentioned health problems, or knows of a way for me to accomplish that whole vaporizing thing, please let me know. Until next time...
JB - I know you're reading this, so hurry up that Disney vacation of yours and come home. I'm sure by now the kids have had enough fun. P.S. Hope the VS delivery went as planned...
20.6.07
Mustang Allie
Okay, today I am living in a very happy place...anxiously awaiting both my next phone call and our Friday night date. I've been thinking a lot about kissing him again, but just so you don't get the wrong impression, there are tons of other things I enjoy about him besides his making out abilities. For instance, he is quite possibly the sweetest, most sincere and open man I've ever encountered. He's tons of fun and affectionate and funny. And as I've now reached the limit on the barf-o-meter, I will stop ennumerating his many wonderful qualities.
And instead I'll move on to what I've done with my day thus far. As usual, I got up this morning and managed to get myself ready for work while at the same time wrestling two young children into getting dressed and begging them to brush their teeth by use of minor veiled threats and punishments. That was fun.
Ever since I've been at work, I have accomplished about 47 minutes of actual "work," while also managing to talk on the phone, conduct small talk with co-workers, and drink 5.3 cups of coffee.
I also was invited to lunch with two (male) co-workers and my boss. Good news is I got to ride in his brand-new, super-hot, Mustang GT Convertible. And I got shotgun because I was a girl. And had the longest legs. So we went to a local, very popular, greasy-spoon, at which there is a minimum 98% male dining population at any given time. My boss warned me right before we went inside that he felt the need to apologize in advance that this would be a "sausage factory." Quaint.
If only he were joking. As soon as we stepped inside the door, it was like Godzilla himself had crashed through the entrance and was staring down each diner, looking for his next victim. No - it was more like being Pamela Anderson and walking along the solitary confinement corridor at the state prison. Something more like that. Now, mind you, the "waitresses" at this joint take orders and deliver food dressed merely in tighty-tight t-shirts and daisy dukes. No kidding. Again, quaint. But the diners are still not accustomed to a girl eating at this establishment. And, frankly, they don't like it.
But it's all good. I can handle it. No problem. We laughed as we counted three times as the number of times a dirty old man, er um, fellow patron, touched the small of my back to move me out of the way. Yeah. Quaint. This is better than Frickers, y'all.
So we finally sit down and order our food. We have a great old time discussing which of the waitresses have "real" boobs versus "fake" boobs, and the pluses and minuses to attending strip clubs. So I try to participate in all of this guy talk. Not as easy as you might expect. I point out that the chicks they are surveying are far less attractive and considerably more skanky than their wives. The rebuttal to which is simply that guys like skanky and trashy and are willing to settle for a little less attractive to get it -- once. So this, people, is an insight into the depths of the male brain. Guess where it is located on the male human anatomy??? And right about this time, it sucks to be a girl. (Probably about as much as it sucked for my boss to try to weasel his way out of most of this conversation)
So finally we leave. I make a joking comment about how, "Hey,"I get to drive back." To which the keys are tossed my way!!! Oh yeah. I got to totally drive the new car. And I was totally allowed to floor it at green lights and accelerate fast at all corners. I was even encouraged to drive 75 mph in a 50 mph zone, just to get the engine roaring. The other two guys had to sit in the back seat. Quite possibly because their legs are shorter than mine. But what can I say??? It's great to be a girl!
And instead I'll move on to what I've done with my day thus far. As usual, I got up this morning and managed to get myself ready for work while at the same time wrestling two young children into getting dressed and begging them to brush their teeth by use of minor veiled threats and punishments. That was fun.
Ever since I've been at work, I have accomplished about 47 minutes of actual "work," while also managing to talk on the phone, conduct small talk with co-workers, and drink 5.3 cups of coffee.
I also was invited to lunch with two (male) co-workers and my boss. Good news is I got to ride in his brand-new, super-hot, Mustang GT Convertible. And I got shotgun because I was a girl. And had the longest legs. So we went to a local, very popular, greasy-spoon, at which there is a minimum 98% male dining population at any given time. My boss warned me right before we went inside that he felt the need to apologize in advance that this would be a "sausage factory." Quaint.
If only he were joking. As soon as we stepped inside the door, it was like Godzilla himself had crashed through the entrance and was staring down each diner, looking for his next victim. No - it was more like being Pamela Anderson and walking along the solitary confinement corridor at the state prison. Something more like that. Now, mind you, the "waitresses" at this joint take orders and deliver food dressed merely in tighty-tight t-shirts and daisy dukes. No kidding. Again, quaint. But the diners are still not accustomed to a girl eating at this establishment. And, frankly, they don't like it.
But it's all good. I can handle it. No problem. We laughed as we counted three times as the number of times a dirty old man, er um, fellow patron, touched the small of my back to move me out of the way. Yeah. Quaint. This is better than Frickers, y'all.
So we finally sit down and order our food. We have a great old time discussing which of the waitresses have "real" boobs versus "fake" boobs, and the pluses and minuses to attending strip clubs. So I try to participate in all of this guy talk. Not as easy as you might expect. I point out that the chicks they are surveying are far less attractive and considerably more skanky than their wives. The rebuttal to which is simply that guys like skanky and trashy and are willing to settle for a little less attractive to get it -- once. So this, people, is an insight into the depths of the male brain. Guess where it is located on the male human anatomy??? And right about this time, it sucks to be a girl. (Probably about as much as it sucked for my boss to try to weasel his way out of most of this conversation)
So finally we leave. I make a joking comment about how, "Hey,"I get to drive back." To which the keys are tossed my way!!! Oh yeah. I got to totally drive the new car. And I was totally allowed to floor it at green lights and accelerate fast at all corners. I was even encouraged to drive 75 mph in a 50 mph zone, just to get the engine roaring. The other two guys had to sit in the back seat. Quite possibly because their legs are shorter than mine. But what can I say??? It's great to be a girl!
19.6.07
Hello, I'm a Schizo
First of all, I got the phone call. And it was great. Turns out all that panicking was for nothing.
But just so you know...if panicking about it publicly and cementing that panic in the midst of cyberspace somehow helped my situation along, I am going to be doing a lotta that in the future.
So we had this really awesome conversation. And made some plans for the weekend (YAY!).
Let's just let this serve as a lesson on how not to overreact when you don't know the whole story. And not to let your emotions take over your sanity. And how to love it when a hot guy has and USES your number!!! Yippee!!!
P.S. I love the telephone!!!
But just so you know...if panicking about it publicly and cementing that panic in the midst of cyberspace somehow helped my situation along, I am going to be doing a lotta that in the future.
So we had this really awesome conversation. And made some plans for the weekend (YAY!).
Let's just let this serve as a lesson on how not to overreact when you don't know the whole story. And not to let your emotions take over your sanity. And how to love it when a hot guy has and USES your number!!! Yippee!!!
P.S. I love the telephone!!!
Advice from the Underbelly
Okay, people are reading this and are feeling very compelled to let me know their opinion on what my next actions should be. But they are so passionate about this that all of them have called/emailed me to give me my instructions. And all of them have said that I need to call and set the record straight.
What?!?!?!?!?!?!? OMG! Are you guys serious here? Geezus.
I'm kinda thinking that the whole "let it be" approach might be better for now. This is because I hate confrontation and because I am, well, a wimp.
Maybe if you ask me tomorrow, I might have a different song to sing.
What?!?!?!?!?!?!? OMG! Are you guys serious here? Geezus.
I'm kinda thinking that the whole "let it be" approach might be better for now. This is because I hate confrontation and because I am, well, a wimp.
Maybe if you ask me tomorrow, I might have a different song to sing.
Paging Mr. Bell...Mr. Alexander Graham Bell!
Who the Hell invented the telephone anyway? Without a doubt, at the time of its invention, this device was a real object of wonderment. It wowed the public the world over and opened new avenues of communication never before thought possible. I mean, think of the things you can do with the telephone. Personally, I have used it to save myself from making dinner (by ordering a pizza), check on the whereabouts of my children, dial 911, conduct long-distance relationships, and orchestrate cab rides home when our designated driver plan bit the dust, just to name a few. But right about now, I would really like to have a few words with Mr. Alexander Graham Bell. The telephone has become my nemesis.
Here's the problem...
You recall that I went on this great date on Friday. He was wonderful and we had a super good time, including some nice PDA and making out. As we parted ways, I was invited to call him Sunday night when I got back into town after making the trek down to see my dad for Father's Day.
So after getting home Sunday at 4:30 p.m., I took care of a few household things that needed to be done and putzed around the house until about 7 p.m. - the time I had deemed appropriate for making this all-important phone call. Need I mention that I really wanted to call him at least once every hour since I last saw him?
Yeah, anyway, the clock struck 7 p.m., and I called. He did not answer. I didn't leave a message. Since I called his cell, I knew he either saw it was me or would see that he missed my call. It was Father's Day, after all, and I could come up with a dozen or so reasons why he couldn't talk at the time. So I began looking forward to his return call. Which never came.
So I called him yesterday at about 10:30 a.m. (the time he usually calls me - thinking this was most likely a good time for him to talk). He answered (yay!) and we had a fairly awesome conversation. He was excited I called and explained the previous night's phone melee. No big deal. So we talked for a little while - until he had to go because he was actually in a client meeting when he took my call (yay! again). Said he would call me later on that day so we could have some more time to talk, and re-emphasized that he was really glad I called. Ahhhhh - I love the telephone. It allows me to hear his voice and converse with him even though I can't see him.
If only the glory had lasted a little longer. Because he didn't call me back. Didn't. Call. Me. Back. I suppose there are reasons why this is okay. I know people are busy. I know he was at work. I also mentioned that it was my oldest child's birthday yesterday and that we had a baseball game. So, okay. I get it. But this is starting to remind me of the, oh I dunno, the approximately four million times in high school when a guy was supposed to call and Didn't. Call. Me. Back.
And thus, I hate the telephone and completely rue the day of its creation.
So the question of the day is: At what point is it okay to launch into full panic mode? Because I think I'm almost there.
Here's the problem...
You recall that I went on this great date on Friday. He was wonderful and we had a super good time, including some nice PDA and making out. As we parted ways, I was invited to call him Sunday night when I got back into town after making the trek down to see my dad for Father's Day.
So after getting home Sunday at 4:30 p.m., I took care of a few household things that needed to be done and putzed around the house until about 7 p.m. - the time I had deemed appropriate for making this all-important phone call. Need I mention that I really wanted to call him at least once every hour since I last saw him?
Yeah, anyway, the clock struck 7 p.m., and I called. He did not answer. I didn't leave a message. Since I called his cell, I knew he either saw it was me or would see that he missed my call. It was Father's Day, after all, and I could come up with a dozen or so reasons why he couldn't talk at the time. So I began looking forward to his return call. Which never came.
So I called him yesterday at about 10:30 a.m. (the time he usually calls me - thinking this was most likely a good time for him to talk). He answered (yay!) and we had a fairly awesome conversation. He was excited I called and explained the previous night's phone melee. No big deal. So we talked for a little while - until he had to go because he was actually in a client meeting when he took my call (yay! again). Said he would call me later on that day so we could have some more time to talk, and re-emphasized that he was really glad I called. Ahhhhh - I love the telephone. It allows me to hear his voice and converse with him even though I can't see him.
If only the glory had lasted a little longer. Because he didn't call me back. Didn't. Call. Me. Back. I suppose there are reasons why this is okay. I know people are busy. I know he was at work. I also mentioned that it was my oldest child's birthday yesterday and that we had a baseball game. So, okay. I get it. But this is starting to remind me of the, oh I dunno, the approximately four million times in high school when a guy was supposed to call and Didn't. Call. Me. Back.
And thus, I hate the telephone and completely rue the day of its creation.
So the question of the day is: At what point is it okay to launch into full panic mode? Because I think I'm almost there.
18.6.07
First Date
Okay, I know it's been quite a while since my last post, and a lot of things have happened. The Ex moved out June 2. When he left he took with him all of his clothes, a few of our memories and most of my confidence. But a funny thing happened after that. I slowly, surely got it back. It took a little while and a lot of Kleenex, but I have survived on my own for a few weeks now and I have officially declared myself O-K!
Don't ask me how it happened. I haven't analyzed the situation yet. It just did. It started out with the small victories...like mowing my own grass (for the third time ever in my whole life!), and running the house by myself, and not dying (yes, there were times when I thought for sure that was an absolute possibility).
But I didn't die. I survived. And now, I am moving forward.
As part of my moving forward, I had my first date. Does anyone else out there hear the word "date" and think of The Cleavers or some silly high school thing? And it was a total set-up. Like we both knew it and everything. It was kind of a relative of a friend whose sister-in-law who is my friend and also a neighbor thing. I know it's corny. But, hey, it works for me!
Now, this was NOT a blind date. I met him last weekend at a casual, pre-planned, totally staged get-together in which the sole purpose was to see if we liked each other and thought each other attractive enough to be seen together in public. Needless to say, that was not a problem. But what was surprising was how much I actually loved talking to this guy. (I know - what a geezer thing to say - I sound like my mother!) And there was something about him that made me really want to kiss him (?!?!?!?) And he's a talker, which if you haven't guessed, I love! I talked to him a couple times during the next week and then made plans for the real date last Friday.
So Friday rolled around and I went through the 2-hour ritual that is getting showered, dressed, primped, scented, shaved, etc., and then drove over to our meeting place. As I sat there waiting for him (he called and said he would be about 10 minutes late - did you catch the most important part of that sentence??? He called...), I got increasingly more nervous with each passing minute. Thought about puking, but decided it was better to hold that in. Good thing I did, too, because once I took one look at him, I was very relaxed. And happy. And wanting to kiss him again.
Our date was wonderful! As is this guy! Dinner, a walk along the water, hand-holding, a movie, sexual tension, some making out. Ahhhhh.
But let's back up a step to that sexual tension thing I mentioned. We had a whole lotta that going on. It was both totally unexpected and intense. But I held it together and for that, I am proud. We decided that it was most likely not a good idea to do that on our first date. So we are actively letting that tension grow, and build, and well, possibly eat us alive before we see each other again. Hopefully that last part doesn't happen. But just to be safe, I think we should work on seeing each other again soon!
Don't ask me how it happened. I haven't analyzed the situation yet. It just did. It started out with the small victories...like mowing my own grass (for the third time ever in my whole life!), and running the house by myself, and not dying (yes, there were times when I thought for sure that was an absolute possibility).
But I didn't die. I survived. And now, I am moving forward.
As part of my moving forward, I had my first date. Does anyone else out there hear the word "date" and think of The Cleavers or some silly high school thing? And it was a total set-up. Like we both knew it and everything. It was kind of a relative of a friend whose sister-in-law who is my friend and also a neighbor thing. I know it's corny. But, hey, it works for me!
Now, this was NOT a blind date. I met him last weekend at a casual, pre-planned, totally staged get-together in which the sole purpose was to see if we liked each other and thought each other attractive enough to be seen together in public. Needless to say, that was not a problem. But what was surprising was how much I actually loved talking to this guy. (I know - what a geezer thing to say - I sound like my mother!) And there was something about him that made me really want to kiss him (?!?!?!?) And he's a talker, which if you haven't guessed, I love! I talked to him a couple times during the next week and then made plans for the real date last Friday.
So Friday rolled around and I went through the 2-hour ritual that is getting showered, dressed, primped, scented, shaved, etc., and then drove over to our meeting place. As I sat there waiting for him (he called and said he would be about 10 minutes late - did you catch the most important part of that sentence??? He called...), I got increasingly more nervous with each passing minute. Thought about puking, but decided it was better to hold that in. Good thing I did, too, because once I took one look at him, I was very relaxed. And happy. And wanting to kiss him again.
Our date was wonderful! As is this guy! Dinner, a walk along the water, hand-holding, a movie, sexual tension, some making out. Ahhhhh.
But let's back up a step to that sexual tension thing I mentioned. We had a whole lotta that going on. It was both totally unexpected and intense. But I held it together and for that, I am proud. We decided that it was most likely not a good idea to do that on our first date. So we are actively letting that tension grow, and build, and well, possibly eat us alive before we see each other again. Hopefully that last part doesn't happen. But just to be safe, I think we should work on seeing each other again soon!
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