One of my friends recently confided in me that she's into D/s relationships. I had no clue what that meant, so I googled it. Turns out it stands for Dominant/submissive. She's the submissive one in the relationship and calls her Dominant partner 'Master'. Basically, she does everything he says 'behind closed doors'.
At first I thought this was really hot and was a little jealous that her relationships come with cool acronyms. I mean, my relationships are just called 'relationships'...booooring...
I started to wonder if I should try out this D/s thing that all the hip kids are doing nowadays. Thing is, I have way too much of a God complex to be the submissive one...and having to be the Dominant one just seems exhausting and entirely too time consuming. Besides, "Do my laundry you dirty man whore!" would be all I'd likely come up with. So, maybe D/s isn't for me.
I've decided instead to seek out a P/s relationship. It's simple...you Pay all my bills, and I'll occasionally suck your cock.
Anyone?
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
The Boardroom
Judging from the light pounding in my head as I slowly came to, I knew there would be a mild hangover in my immediate future. I lay there quietly with my eyes still shut as the memories of the night before flashed behind my eyelids like an old 50s slideshow. Slowly, ever so slowly, I began to open my eyes and wipe the sleep from their corners.
The first thing I noticed was that the mattress was on the floor. I vaguely remembered that seeming like the perfect solution given the situation that evening. I surveyed the rest of the room...
Large table, lots of chairs, small kitchen...As I continued to look around, a hand found it's way to the small of my back. I glanced over to my bedside companion. With only one eye half-open he smiled at me.
"That really happened, didn't it?" I asked. We both fell into a small fit of giggles. "Where's my phone?"
"It's on the table, Butterfly" he said with that adorable accent.
"Oh God, please tell me I wasn't live tweeting this event." More giggles. I slowly rolled onto the floor, then onto my knees, and finally found my way to my feet. The room looked even more ridiculous from this vantage point.
Having no clue what time it was I turned on my phone. It was nearly one in the afternoon. There was a text from my friend CC: "Well, how was your night?"
I typed slowly as a mischievous grin crept over my face: "I just woke up on the floor of the Westin hotel boardroom next to a naked Australian rockstar...and you?"
CC: "We need to write a book."
<Insert "17 hours earlier" caption here>
I got his text around 8pm Saturday evening. We hadn't seen each other since we met earlier this year at a film festival. His band had just arrived in town and were staying nearby.
-Wait-
I've thought about this blog quite a bit these past few days, and one name keeps popping into my brain. Clarence. I can think of no more poorly suited a name, which is why it seems so utterly perfect.
-OK, Back to the story-
Ahem. "Check Please!"
"You are NOT about to leave to go meet some random guy after having JUST gotten here!" Said my friend 'Red'.
"Damn straight I am," I replied.
"So who is this guy?" Asked Jazz. Pictures always speak louder than words, so I calmly Googled 'Clarence images' on my phone. Three jaws fell to the floor.
After a moment of silence Red asked, "Can we come?"
"The more the merrier!"
We piled into two cars and set off for the Westin. When we walked in, I introduced my friends to the band.
Looking back now, I think I was in a mood that night. Not a good mood, not a bad mood, just...a mood. Maybe 'rowdy' is the best way to describe it. "I'll take a beer and a shot of Patron," I answered. Yup, that kind of mood.
For the next hour we all sat around the table as Red entertained us. (This girl is seriously funny- you haven't lived until you've seen her ask a man 'What do you think of these Triple-Ds?') Finally Red, Jazz, and Moose left and the rest of the band went upstairs to get some rest.
Which left Clarence, me, and a bunch of drunk Englishmen at the bar.
In that fantastic Aussie accent Clarence declared, "You and I are going to take another shot of tequila, and then I'm going to kiss you...on the lips."
"I appreciate you being so specific..."
One thing about rockstars, people will always give them whatever they want...even when they don't ask. Case in point, the bartender continued to serve us well after they closed, and even gave us a bottle of wine before she left. In between make-out sessions we actually had a fantastically interesting conversation.
Clarence informed me that he was sharing a room with his sleeping bandmates, and that the room was located right next to a huge boardroom. "We could go hang out there," he said. I didn't even hesitate. Up we went.
I'll spare you the rest of the details, because while I try to share as much as possible on this blog- some things are best left for my memory, and my memory only.
Let's just say that 'Sex with a hot Australian rockstar in a hotel boardroom' can now be taken off my bucket list. I mean, I'm pretty sure it was never on my bucket list...but it should have been!
Reflecting back days later, I have to say the night surprised me. Not for the obvious reasons, but because of how unabashedly unashamed I am of the entire thing. Clarence and I had a good laugh when I told him that just days before his surprise arrival I had written a blog about rockstars. Oh, how I do love irony.
As I drove home I called CC..."SOOOO?" she asked. "It was crazy, it was fun...I'll never hear from him again," I responded. So much for expectations! He texted that night, and again the following morning: "Good morning Butterfly. xx"
Realistically, do I think I'll ever see Clarence the Rockstar again? Doubtful.
But I guess as long as there are boardrooms, ballrooms, and elevators...there is always that chance.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
You Sir, Are NO Rockstar...
Having worked a bit in the media world when I was younger, I've dated more than my fair share of musicians and 'rockstars'. I even made it into a magazine or two with the caption "Who is this mystery girl with XX?" I just wasn't cool enough for anyone to actually take the time to figure out the answer...
There was one guy in particular who was in a mildly popular boy-band in the late 90s. Let's call him...Wannabe. Wannabe was hot, seriously hot. And he had a British accent...swoon! We spent several days together while they played shows in my town and spent a lot of time 'connecting on a deeper level.' (Those musicians are always so 'deep'!) Being the smart, conservative gal that I was, I asked Wannabe if he had a different girl in every city.
(Try reading this with a British accent if you can.) "Baby! I'm way too fucking busy to be out fucking...you're the only girl I want, I swear!"
I believed him, and knew in my heart of hearts that what he really wanted was for me to drive down to their next tour stop and surprise him backstage (those media badges sure come in handy!). I arrived just in time to meet "Austin", a thin sultry blonde who had her ass in his lap and her lips on his ear... and then I overheard one of his bandmates refer to me as "Dallas". Turns out he wasn't so fucking busy after all...nor was he particularly clever with his girlfriend's nicknames. Ahh Rockstars...they love you when they have you and forget you the second they get back on that bus.
I wised up eventually and stopped dating guys on tour, but I still see that 'Rockstar Mentality' pop up again and again. It's happening this week as a matter of fact...with 'D'.
Last night I was texting back and forth with one of my best guy friends, 'K-Love' (Yes, everyone in my blog gets a nickname). I had a full-on chick moment and told him I hadn't heard from D since he left town earlier this week.
He responded: "If there was a girl who could keep my attention for 11 days, she would have heard from me at least every hour since leaving. I'm sorry."
My tough-girl answer back? "Easy come, easy go."
What followed an eye-opening dialogue and a pretty good glimpse into a few of the biggest differences between men and women when it comes to dating. After reading the conversation to my best friend CC, we decided I should put it in my blog. So, with K-Love's permission, here it goes...
K-Love: "I think the best and hardest thing to do is to try and adopt a 'take it as it comes philosophy'. That's what I did when I wanted my ex-wife to run back to me and say she was sorry...but she never did. It hurt so bad and consumed my thoughts, but I had to force myself to believe that I didn't care if I ever talked to her again. Turns out, she never did come back. But this guy D- he is going to text you. And when he does, you have to act like you didn't even notice he hadn't done so earlier."
Me: "You're right, it's a necessary defense mechanism. Part of me sees all of this as a blessing. I'm so determined to be single for a while, that it would likely freak me out if he was calling or texting all the time. Maybe that's why I felt safe spending time with him...I knew he would do this. The chick in me hoped it would be different, but the brain in me is glad it isn't. Still, my feelings are really hurt."
K-Love: "No matter what people put your emotions through behind closed doors, you have to make them think you're so cool you may or may not have time to deal with their shit. Again, he's going to text or call. So what you need to spend your time worrying about is this...how are you going to handle it when he does? The way I see it, you have 3 options. 1) You can say something like 'Finally!' (not the best choice) 2) You can tell him you've been busy and didn't even notice (thus sweeping it all under the rug). Or 3) you can play my favorite game and not respond for a day or two and when you do, use some blow off comment like, 'Oh yeah, that's cool."
Me: "Grrrr Relationships!!"
K-Love: "You can't look at it like a relationship...to men, it's a game. We all hate games, but the only way to survive them is to play them."
Me: "Why? I know he likes me and vice-versa...no mystery there. So why wouldn't he send a stupid text once in a while? He did say I made him nervous because I'm vulnerable after my break-up and still trying to find myself. Genuine concern or excuse?"
K-Love: "Excuse. Keep in mind, I don't know him...but this is how men think. I do it and I don't even mean to. I jump in with a woman head first and say the most clever and witty things I didn't even know I was capable of coming up with. The women love it, blush, and go crazy for it. Then we end up having sex...as soon as that happens I realize they want a relationship. Which reminds me of all the other women I can hook up with...and when the woman texts me it becomes a burden to come up with excuses as to why I'm 'busy' and can't hang out. I'm probably sounding like a fucking jerk right now but I've been dealing with this exact same scenario this past week. After some time goes by I start thinking about the girl again and the cycle starts over. That's why I don't want a relationship with anyone because I think I'm emotionally ruined. Until I find someone who can break that cycle...I have no business dating. In fact, the last excuse I used was "I'm moving to Houston to help my mom, she's about to lose her house." My mom doesn't even live in Houston! Hah! I'm such a dick. The only woman I have EVER not played these games with was my ex wife...which, I guess, is why I fell so far in love with her."
Me: "Woah. This is eye-opening. I think D is playing the same game he has played with me forever."
K-Love: "It's a guy thing. And I promise every time he sees you it feels new to him. It's in the after stages that the 'games' set in. Like I said, I don't know him. But I know how I felt with my ex-wife. When we first met I would have never gone days without talking to her. It wouldn't have been physically possible for me."
So, there you go. As I see it, a few conclusions can be drawn from this conversation: 1) K-Love is one hell of a good texter. 2) Even when they like you, guys will still play games. 3) You can learn to play them too, learn to ignore them completely, or learn to love your time alone. 4) You'll know when it's 'real', and you won't have to ask your friends for their opinions.
A couple of other things I've learned in my life: There are only two types of unconditional love. That between a parent and their child, and a dog and their owner. All other types are conditional and therefore expendable. Also, the rockstar mentality exists in all of us...
We just have to decide when it's time to quit the band.
There was one guy in particular who was in a mildly popular boy-band in the late 90s. Let's call him...Wannabe. Wannabe was hot, seriously hot. And he had a British accent...swoon! We spent several days together while they played shows in my town and spent a lot of time 'connecting on a deeper level.' (Those musicians are always so 'deep'!) Being the smart, conservative gal that I was, I asked Wannabe if he had a different girl in every city.
(Try reading this with a British accent if you can.) "Baby! I'm way too fucking busy to be out fucking...you're the only girl I want, I swear!"
I believed him, and knew in my heart of hearts that what he really wanted was for me to drive down to their next tour stop and surprise him backstage (those media badges sure come in handy!). I arrived just in time to meet "Austin", a thin sultry blonde who had her ass in his lap and her lips on his ear... and then I overheard one of his bandmates refer to me as "Dallas". Turns out he wasn't so fucking busy after all...nor was he particularly clever with his girlfriend's nicknames. Ahh Rockstars...they love you when they have you and forget you the second they get back on that bus.
I wised up eventually and stopped dating guys on tour, but I still see that 'Rockstar Mentality' pop up again and again. It's happening this week as a matter of fact...with 'D'.
Last night I was texting back and forth with one of my best guy friends, 'K-Love' (Yes, everyone in my blog gets a nickname). I had a full-on chick moment and told him I hadn't heard from D since he left town earlier this week.
He responded: "If there was a girl who could keep my attention for 11 days, she would have heard from me at least every hour since leaving. I'm sorry."
My tough-girl answer back? "Easy come, easy go."
What followed an eye-opening dialogue and a pretty good glimpse into a few of the biggest differences between men and women when it comes to dating. After reading the conversation to my best friend CC, we decided I should put it in my blog. So, with K-Love's permission, here it goes...
K-Love: "I think the best and hardest thing to do is to try and adopt a 'take it as it comes philosophy'. That's what I did when I wanted my ex-wife to run back to me and say she was sorry...but she never did. It hurt so bad and consumed my thoughts, but I had to force myself to believe that I didn't care if I ever talked to her again. Turns out, she never did come back. But this guy D- he is going to text you. And when he does, you have to act like you didn't even notice he hadn't done so earlier."
Me: "You're right, it's a necessary defense mechanism. Part of me sees all of this as a blessing. I'm so determined to be single for a while, that it would likely freak me out if he was calling or texting all the time. Maybe that's why I felt safe spending time with him...I knew he would do this. The chick in me hoped it would be different, but the brain in me is glad it isn't. Still, my feelings are really hurt."
K-Love: "No matter what people put your emotions through behind closed doors, you have to make them think you're so cool you may or may not have time to deal with their shit. Again, he's going to text or call. So what you need to spend your time worrying about is this...how are you going to handle it when he does? The way I see it, you have 3 options. 1) You can say something like 'Finally!' (not the best choice) 2) You can tell him you've been busy and didn't even notice (thus sweeping it all under the rug). Or 3) you can play my favorite game and not respond for a day or two and when you do, use some blow off comment like, 'Oh yeah, that's cool."
Me: "Grrrr Relationships!!"
K-Love: "You can't look at it like a relationship...to men, it's a game. We all hate games, but the only way to survive them is to play them."
Me: "Why? I know he likes me and vice-versa...no mystery there. So why wouldn't he send a stupid text once in a while? He did say I made him nervous because I'm vulnerable after my break-up and still trying to find myself. Genuine concern or excuse?"
K-Love: "Excuse. Keep in mind, I don't know him...but this is how men think. I do it and I don't even mean to. I jump in with a woman head first and say the most clever and witty things I didn't even know I was capable of coming up with. The women love it, blush, and go crazy for it. Then we end up having sex...as soon as that happens I realize they want a relationship. Which reminds me of all the other women I can hook up with...and when the woman texts me it becomes a burden to come up with excuses as to why I'm 'busy' and can't hang out. I'm probably sounding like a fucking jerk right now but I've been dealing with this exact same scenario this past week. After some time goes by I start thinking about the girl again and the cycle starts over. That's why I don't want a relationship with anyone because I think I'm emotionally ruined. Until I find someone who can break that cycle...I have no business dating. In fact, the last excuse I used was "I'm moving to Houston to help my mom, she's about to lose her house." My mom doesn't even live in Houston! Hah! I'm such a dick. The only woman I have EVER not played these games with was my ex wife...which, I guess, is why I fell so far in love with her."
Me: "Woah. This is eye-opening. I think D is playing the same game he has played with me forever."
K-Love: "It's a guy thing. And I promise every time he sees you it feels new to him. It's in the after stages that the 'games' set in. Like I said, I don't know him. But I know how I felt with my ex-wife. When we first met I would have never gone days without talking to her. It wouldn't have been physically possible for me."
So, there you go. As I see it, a few conclusions can be drawn from this conversation: 1) K-Love is one hell of a good texter. 2) Even when they like you, guys will still play games. 3) You can learn to play them too, learn to ignore them completely, or learn to love your time alone. 4) You'll know when it's 'real', and you won't have to ask your friends for their opinions.
A couple of other things I've learned in my life: There are only two types of unconditional love. That between a parent and their child, and a dog and their owner. All other types are conditional and therefore expendable. Also, the rockstar mentality exists in all of us...
We just have to decide when it's time to quit the band.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
A Rich Asshole is Still Just an Asshole...
My Ex-husband is on TV. I know, who cares? I tell you this because it's the number one reason I ghost-write this blog. While he was a very bad husband, he isn't a bad guy. And it isn't my job to publicly 'out' him.
That said, I still hold a wee bit of bitterness over him failing to mention he was planning to turn into a raging asexual narcissist the day we married. So I vent-write. It helps.
The day I left him, he gave me a signed 8x10 glossy.
No, I am not shitting you.
He signed it to 'My Biggest Fan'. A year later he sent me an updated, signed version- just so I could tell people 'I knew him when...'
He was recently hired for a more high profile position that came with a very large paycheck. I know this because he sent me a copy of his contract, you know, since I 'was there in the beginning, I could appreciate just how far he's come.' It was a dickhead thing to do. Especially because he knows I'm a broke actor struggling to make a living.
Motherfucker did make an effort, one time, to 'win' me back. He flew out, took me to dinner, and explained that his 'picture' no longer looked as good as it used to. He had the money, he had the notoriety, he just needed a hot wife (you know, to mask that 'gay' thing?) I politely declined, and somehow managed not to gag when he tried to kiss me...twice.
This morning I received a string of photo texts from him. He wanted me to see our old furniture being moved out of our old house (that I got nothing out of in the divorce BTW) and let me know once again that he has a lot of money and a much bigger house now. Oh yeah, and he also has my cats. I got the dog, he got the cats (his request...say it with me now, "GAAAAY"). My dog died, his cats will live forever I'm sure.
Why do I suddenly feel like God hates me? Anyway, back to those texts...
It was sweet, really. I wished him good luck and took a moment for myself to marinate in the fact that I'm no longer a part of that. What I know without a doubt is that the loneliest day of my single life has yet to be as lonely as the best day of my married life. Period.
I believe in Karma, so I'm choosing to wish him the best in his new big job. Hopefully the same will happen for me someday. If not? Fuckit. This life is still better than that one...
That said, I still hold a wee bit of bitterness over him failing to mention he was planning to turn into a raging asexual narcissist the day we married. So I vent-write. It helps.
The day I left him, he gave me a signed 8x10 glossy.
No, I am not shitting you.
He signed it to 'My Biggest Fan'. A year later he sent me an updated, signed version- just so I could tell people 'I knew him when...'
He was recently hired for a more high profile position that came with a very large paycheck. I know this because he sent me a copy of his contract, you know, since I 'was there in the beginning, I could appreciate just how far he's come.' It was a dickhead thing to do. Especially because he knows I'm a broke actor struggling to make a living.
Motherfucker did make an effort, one time, to 'win' me back. He flew out, took me to dinner, and explained that his 'picture' no longer looked as good as it used to. He had the money, he had the notoriety, he just needed a hot wife (you know, to mask that 'gay' thing?) I politely declined, and somehow managed not to gag when he tried to kiss me...twice.
This morning I received a string of photo texts from him. He wanted me to see our old furniture being moved out of our old house (that I got nothing out of in the divorce BTW) and let me know once again that he has a lot of money and a much bigger house now. Oh yeah, and he also has my cats. I got the dog, he got the cats (his request...say it with me now, "GAAAAY"). My dog died, his cats will live forever I'm sure.
Why do I suddenly feel like God hates me? Anyway, back to those texts...
It was sweet, really. I wished him good luck and took a moment for myself to marinate in the fact that I'm no longer a part of that. What I know without a doubt is that the loneliest day of my single life has yet to be as lonely as the best day of my married life. Period.
I believe in Karma, so I'm choosing to wish him the best in his new big job. Hopefully the same will happen for me someday. If not? Fuckit. This life is still better than that one...
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
D Stands For...
Dipping my big toe into the third week of creating this blog, I'm starting to realize the impact it's having on me. A few people have reached out to tell me they've experienced similar heartbreak, similar eye-opening moments, and similar renewals. Every time I consider myself a demon-riddled island, I'm reminded of the emotional bridges that allow us to connect with one another. I'm just an ordinary girl...navigating an extraordinary life.
I'm trying to figure out, just like you are, what it is I really want.
I've chosen to write this blog anonymously which allows me to explore my heart and head openly and honestly without the risk of hurting anyone. Therefore, the people I write about are each given a nickname.
Today, the person at the forefront of my mind is 'D'.
D came back into my life about the time I wised up and kicked my most recent Ex, 'Ex-B', to the curb. There was extreme hatred between Ex-B and D (on the side of Ex-B), and honestly- he had every right to be jealous. Try as I might, my simmering crush on D hasn't been easily disguised. (Feel free to check out this blog for further background on the Ex-B/D rivalry)
I first met D in my early 20s. He was married, then divorced...and then I was married and divorced. Our lives have intersected like mangled vines you might find running along an old fence...sometimes we hit, sometimes we miss, sometimes we run parallel. For 15 years we've curiously danced around one another wondering if someday we might just connect.
Rough and tough, D has a greater tendency toward being a douche than a darling. This is the guy that when the barista at Starbucks asks, "Can I get you anything else?", the response will be, "Got any blow?" He's a good guy...though you might question it from time to time. Funny as hell. He doesn't do drugs, but he does drink a bit too much...smokes too much...swears too much. He's honest. He says what's on his mind...and somehow it always comes from a place of truly caring. It might hurt, but it isn't meant to. He's complimentary in all the right ways, and I feel more like 'me' around him than anyone else. I like this guy. And while I know he will be a part of my life forever, I'm a bit curious as to the capacity in which that will happen.
Due to recent work travels on both sides, we've spent a lot of time together this month. A lot of time together. After 11 consecutive inseparable days, D left this morning. Trying to be the cool girl, I sent him off with a kiss on the cheek and a 'see ya later'. Then I drove home, walked inside, sat on my couch, and sobbed. Not exactly 'cool'. I'm the over-thinker on a path of self discovery, and these last 11 days have been filled with eye-opening discussion. D thinks I'm vulnerable. He also thinks I hide behind the 'sweet girl mask of goodness' that turns more people off than on. I have a very dark sense of humor and a rather sick view of the world I don't let very many people see. I am kind and prefer to do the 'right' thing, but I'm terrified that if people knew my sassier, darker side they wouldn't like me. And I like being liked. D also told me I talk too much about work. I use it as another shield to keep from talking about 'me'. He says there are so many more interesting aspects of my life that no one ever sees because I obsess over my job.
He's totally right.
D had an impact this week. Looking back, he's had an impact during many pivotal moments in my life. Which got me thinking about the other D's that have affected me...
Divorce- At my age, most of the single people I meet are divorced. And I have yet to meet anyone that isn't at least mildly bitter about it...including myself. My girlfriends tried to set me up with a guy a few weeks ago. He was great...until he started talking about his ex. Holy woman-hating-venom batman!! This guy went off for over an hour...30 minutes of which I spent just trying to get away! Like most, I have issues left over from my married years, but I'm really not that bitter. I see the marriage as my mistake. The red flags were there, I just ignored them. I could spend the rest of my life angry about it, or I could simply learn from it. Thanks to my narcissistic gay ex-husband, I'm smarter, stronger, and way better looking. (Those gay-boys give great make-up tips...and no, I am not joking.)
DNA- I've spent a lot of time this month talking about family. If you read my previous blog, I discovered I had a 45 year old brother last week that had been given up for adoption. Which means I've been looking through old photos, discovering missing links, and reliving my past in bits and pieces. Also, D met my entire family this past week. It wasn't planned- it just kind of 'happened'. And it didn't really go so well. It turns out my 20 year old niece can be a real bitch. She asked D if he had ever had plastic surgery (since he's an actor) and he jokingly went through a list of procedures he had done. She didn't get the joke. So all night he was called 'Botox'...and then 'Cheek Implant'...and then 'Johnny McHollywood'...and it kept going. He did a good job of hanging in there, but I don't think he'll be anxious to spend much time with her ever again.
Dogs- I had a bit too much to drink three nights ago and completely melted down about the dog I lost a month ago. Full. On. Sobbing. Not my most attractive moment. It should have scared the shit out of D...but instead he opened up about the death of his mom many years ago. There we sat...two people crying and connecting. Something we should all do more often. My dog was my child, my family...and holy shit I miss her. But she did give me a gift. Freedom. Now I can travel without notice or move anywhere in the world. No ties. And that is indeed a gift.
Dating- D made a verbal slip a few days ago and said we were dating. He very quickly corrected himself. "You know, whatever this is...I mean, it isn't dating...It's...Don't you just hate labels?" I'm a girl. I love labels. But D did enlighten me on the pitfalls of being a man and dating. Apparently it is quite expensive! He said it would be easy to drop up to $2k a month just courting a girl. Holy shit! For some people that's a salary!! I think dating sucks in general. Which is why I tend to either be alone or in a relationship. I hate playing 'get to know you'. More often than not, I really really don't want to know you. Take for instance the guy I met a couple of weeks ago...super cute, funny, decent conversationalist. Then he asked why I was divorced. I answered that I was pretty sure my ex is gay. His response? "You're a good looking girl...but you know what they say, show me the hottest girl in the room and I'll show you a man who is sick of her shit. Sure he wasn't just sick of your shit?" Are you kidding me? Check please!
Dancing- I love to dance, LOVE to dance. And very, very few of the guys I've dated know how to. Turns out D can dance!! I would have never guessed it. But it made me realize how important this is to me. It's a requirement. You don't have to be great, you just have to be willing.
Detox- I'm not a day-to-day drinker. But when I throw down, I seriously throw down. And for some reason, that happens a lot when D is in town. Now that he's gone, I'm putting myself into detox mode. Detox from alcohol, detox from bad food, detox from fucking off at work, and detox from men. This month has been a lot. I've been through a death, a breakup, the discovery of a new sibling, travel, work, and a lot of looking at my life and figuring out 'what's next?'. Which leads to...
Discovery- I need to take the time to discover who I am. What I want. Where I'm headed. And where I've been. This blog is step one. My original vision was to create a snarky look at my weird life, and yet today I'm not feeling so snarky. More like...introspective and a touch sad. Which I'm sure makes for a shitty read. Oh well, this my cheap ass therapy- so hopefully you'll forgive me.
I need some quiet time. And I have until...
December- D and I have plans to see each other again in December. Like it or not, I'm crazy about this guy (and believe me, there are plenty of people who aren't liking that too much). But I'm scared my vulnerabilities are leading me to look to the possibility of him rather than the possibility of spending time alone. I fully realize I'm in no mental position to think further down the road than what I plan to eat for dinner or watch on TV tonight, so I'm planning to take these next weeks to try and clear my head. Do a lot of thinking and a lot of writing.
One thing's for sure...being human is hard. Being a single girl is hard. Which is why I jump from relationship to relationship. It's easier to meld into the next man and become them than it is to stand on my own and risk exposing me. This is why D really should stand for...
Determination- I am determined to rid myself of demons, doubt, and dependence so I can be more daring and decisive. Alliteration aside...I want to do it right. For once.
And by 'it'...
I mean 'me'.
I'm trying to figure out, just like you are, what it is I really want.
I've chosen to write this blog anonymously which allows me to explore my heart and head openly and honestly without the risk of hurting anyone. Therefore, the people I write about are each given a nickname.
Today, the person at the forefront of my mind is 'D'.
D came back into my life about the time I wised up and kicked my most recent Ex, 'Ex-B', to the curb. There was extreme hatred between Ex-B and D (on the side of Ex-B), and honestly- he had every right to be jealous. Try as I might, my simmering crush on D hasn't been easily disguised. (Feel free to check out this blog for further background on the Ex-B/D rivalry)
I first met D in my early 20s. He was married, then divorced...and then I was married and divorced. Our lives have intersected like mangled vines you might find running along an old fence...sometimes we hit, sometimes we miss, sometimes we run parallel. For 15 years we've curiously danced around one another wondering if someday we might just connect.
Rough and tough, D has a greater tendency toward being a douche than a darling. This is the guy that when the barista at Starbucks asks, "Can I get you anything else?", the response will be, "Got any blow?" He's a good guy...though you might question it from time to time. Funny as hell. He doesn't do drugs, but he does drink a bit too much...smokes too much...swears too much. He's honest. He says what's on his mind...and somehow it always comes from a place of truly caring. It might hurt, but it isn't meant to. He's complimentary in all the right ways, and I feel more like 'me' around him than anyone else. I like this guy. And while I know he will be a part of my life forever, I'm a bit curious as to the capacity in which that will happen.
Due to recent work travels on both sides, we've spent a lot of time together this month. A lot of time together. After 11 consecutive inseparable days, D left this morning. Trying to be the cool girl, I sent him off with a kiss on the cheek and a 'see ya later'. Then I drove home, walked inside, sat on my couch, and sobbed. Not exactly 'cool'. I'm the over-thinker on a path of self discovery, and these last 11 days have been filled with eye-opening discussion. D thinks I'm vulnerable. He also thinks I hide behind the 'sweet girl mask of goodness' that turns more people off than on. I have a very dark sense of humor and a rather sick view of the world I don't let very many people see. I am kind and prefer to do the 'right' thing, but I'm terrified that if people knew my sassier, darker side they wouldn't like me. And I like being liked. D also told me I talk too much about work. I use it as another shield to keep from talking about 'me'. He says there are so many more interesting aspects of my life that no one ever sees because I obsess over my job.
He's totally right.
D had an impact this week. Looking back, he's had an impact during many pivotal moments in my life. Which got me thinking about the other D's that have affected me...
Divorce- At my age, most of the single people I meet are divorced. And I have yet to meet anyone that isn't at least mildly bitter about it...including myself. My girlfriends tried to set me up with a guy a few weeks ago. He was great...until he started talking about his ex. Holy woman-hating-venom batman!! This guy went off for over an hour...30 minutes of which I spent just trying to get away! Like most, I have issues left over from my married years, but I'm really not that bitter. I see the marriage as my mistake. The red flags were there, I just ignored them. I could spend the rest of my life angry about it, or I could simply learn from it. Thanks to my narcissistic gay ex-husband, I'm smarter, stronger, and way better looking. (Those gay-boys give great make-up tips...and no, I am not joking.)
DNA- I've spent a lot of time this month talking about family. If you read my previous blog, I discovered I had a 45 year old brother last week that had been given up for adoption. Which means I've been looking through old photos, discovering missing links, and reliving my past in bits and pieces. Also, D met my entire family this past week. It wasn't planned- it just kind of 'happened'. And it didn't really go so well. It turns out my 20 year old niece can be a real bitch. She asked D if he had ever had plastic surgery (since he's an actor) and he jokingly went through a list of procedures he had done. She didn't get the joke. So all night he was called 'Botox'...and then 'Cheek Implant'...and then 'Johnny McHollywood'...and it kept going. He did a good job of hanging in there, but I don't think he'll be anxious to spend much time with her ever again.
Dogs- I had a bit too much to drink three nights ago and completely melted down about the dog I lost a month ago. Full. On. Sobbing. Not my most attractive moment. It should have scared the shit out of D...but instead he opened up about the death of his mom many years ago. There we sat...two people crying and connecting. Something we should all do more often. My dog was my child, my family...and holy shit I miss her. But she did give me a gift. Freedom. Now I can travel without notice or move anywhere in the world. No ties. And that is indeed a gift.
Dating- D made a verbal slip a few days ago and said we were dating. He very quickly corrected himself. "You know, whatever this is...I mean, it isn't dating...It's...Don't you just hate labels?" I'm a girl. I love labels. But D did enlighten me on the pitfalls of being a man and dating. Apparently it is quite expensive! He said it would be easy to drop up to $2k a month just courting a girl. Holy shit! For some people that's a salary!! I think dating sucks in general. Which is why I tend to either be alone or in a relationship. I hate playing 'get to know you'. More often than not, I really really don't want to know you. Take for instance the guy I met a couple of weeks ago...super cute, funny, decent conversationalist. Then he asked why I was divorced. I answered that I was pretty sure my ex is gay. His response? "You're a good looking girl...but you know what they say, show me the hottest girl in the room and I'll show you a man who is sick of her shit. Sure he wasn't just sick of your shit?" Are you kidding me? Check please!
Dancing- I love to dance, LOVE to dance. And very, very few of the guys I've dated know how to. Turns out D can dance!! I would have never guessed it. But it made me realize how important this is to me. It's a requirement. You don't have to be great, you just have to be willing.
Detox- I'm not a day-to-day drinker. But when I throw down, I seriously throw down. And for some reason, that happens a lot when D is in town. Now that he's gone, I'm putting myself into detox mode. Detox from alcohol, detox from bad food, detox from fucking off at work, and detox from men. This month has been a lot. I've been through a death, a breakup, the discovery of a new sibling, travel, work, and a lot of looking at my life and figuring out 'what's next?'. Which leads to...
Discovery- I need to take the time to discover who I am. What I want. Where I'm headed. And where I've been. This blog is step one. My original vision was to create a snarky look at my weird life, and yet today I'm not feeling so snarky. More like...introspective and a touch sad. Which I'm sure makes for a shitty read. Oh well, this my cheap ass therapy- so hopefully you'll forgive me.
I need some quiet time. And I have until...
December- D and I have plans to see each other again in December. Like it or not, I'm crazy about this guy (and believe me, there are plenty of people who aren't liking that too much). But I'm scared my vulnerabilities are leading me to look to the possibility of him rather than the possibility of spending time alone. I fully realize I'm in no mental position to think further down the road than what I plan to eat for dinner or watch on TV tonight, so I'm planning to take these next weeks to try and clear my head. Do a lot of thinking and a lot of writing.
One thing's for sure...being human is hard. Being a single girl is hard. Which is why I jump from relationship to relationship. It's easier to meld into the next man and become them than it is to stand on my own and risk exposing me. This is why D really should stand for...
Determination- I am determined to rid myself of demons, doubt, and dependence so I can be more daring and decisive. Alliteration aside...I want to do it right. For once.
And by 'it'...
I mean 'me'.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Oh Brother Where Art Thou?
Last night I received a call from a woman who makes a living connecting adopted children to their biological families. She explained to me that at the age of 21, while still in college, my father got his girlfriend pregnant. This was back in the 60's when women rarely gave birth out of wedlock and kept the child, so naturally 'Baby A' was given up for adoption.
It took my brain a solid 30 minutes to register what this woman was telling me.
"You mean I really have a brother...from another mother?"
Yes. I do.
It turns out that my mom was aware that my dad had a random child wandering the Earth- but she had never informed me. Honestly, she hadn't thought about it once in the last 40+ years, so you can't exactly blame her for withholding information.
A bit of history: My father was a con man. No, really. He made a living (if you call it that) by scamming, stealing, embezzling, lying, cheating...you name it, he likely did it. The guy was a gifted speaker and was charming as hell, so he could convince you of almost anything. As a young girl, he often used me in his scams...who can say no to a cute kid? He died when I was in my teens, which more than likely was a good thing.
I immediately called my sister.
Me: "I'm about to drop a bomb on you."
Her: "Oh God...What?!"
Me: "Dad had a kid, we have a brother."
Her: "That's not a bomb...that was a matter of time."
Yup. My dad was a man whore. Which has started a dialogue about how many 'others' there may be...
Alas, last night the woman gave me a phone number to call, and this afternoon I spent 2 hours talking to my big brother.
Wow. I'm still wrapping my mind around the word 'brother'.
'Baby A' is a total hillbilly, he's an aspiring photographer, and he has many of the same random medical things as my sister and I (similar allergies, etc). Oh- and he over-shares and never shuts up. Yup. He's ours!!!
He is planning a trip to meet us face to face in a few weeks.
And I'm happy because maybe, just maybe, my father finally gave us a gift...instead of a grenade.
It took my brain a solid 30 minutes to register what this woman was telling me.
"You mean I really have a brother...from another mother?"
Yes. I do.
It turns out that my mom was aware that my dad had a random child wandering the Earth- but she had never informed me. Honestly, she hadn't thought about it once in the last 40+ years, so you can't exactly blame her for withholding information.
A bit of history: My father was a con man. No, really. He made a living (if you call it that) by scamming, stealing, embezzling, lying, cheating...you name it, he likely did it. The guy was a gifted speaker and was charming as hell, so he could convince you of almost anything. As a young girl, he often used me in his scams...who can say no to a cute kid? He died when I was in my teens, which more than likely was a good thing.
I immediately called my sister.
Me: "I'm about to drop a bomb on you."
Her: "Oh God...What?!"
Me: "Dad had a kid, we have a brother."
Her: "That's not a bomb...that was a matter of time."
Yup. My dad was a man whore. Which has started a dialogue about how many 'others' there may be...
Alas, last night the woman gave me a phone number to call, and this afternoon I spent 2 hours talking to my big brother.
Wow. I'm still wrapping my mind around the word 'brother'.
'Baby A' is a total hillbilly, he's an aspiring photographer, and he has many of the same random medical things as my sister and I (similar allergies, etc). Oh- and he over-shares and never shuts up. Yup. He's ours!!!
He is planning a trip to meet us face to face in a few weeks.
And I'm happy because maybe, just maybe, my father finally gave us a gift...instead of a grenade.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
The Story of the Garbage Man's Happy Wife
I broke up with Ex-B, for the first time, on a Tuesday. (Yes, we broke up more than once over the coarse of a year.) The following Friday my friend D was in town and we went out for a couple of cocktails.
Unbeknownst to me, Ex-B had taken to stalking me that week. Had I known this, I'm not so sure I would have chosen to escort D back to his hotel for one last cocktail, but alas- that's exactly what I did.
It was around midnight when the texts began.
"I know where you are, I know who you are with, and I know what you are doing...you will regret this, I promise!"
On...and on...and on. Clearly Ex-B has an unlimited texting plan.
D and I decided it best at this point for me to stay the night at the hotel. I had visions of finding Ex-B armed, dangerous, and intoxicated waiting for me just outside the front door.
Two thoughts hit me simultaneously when I awoke the following morning. 1) He's gone to my house, used the key I gave him, and done something awful. 2) He's contacted my mother.
Don't ask me how I knew these things, but I did.
I called my mom as I drove home and, sure enough, Ex-B had sent her an email describing in detail what he believed I had been doing throughout the previous evening.
(As a side note: No woman, of any age, should ever have to hear "You need to learn to keep your panties on and your legs shut" come out of their mother's mouth.)
When I pulled into the driveway of my house, I immediately began scouring the property. Either Ex-B was about to pop out from around the corner with a machete and a stink eye...or the place was going to go up in flames the second I opened the door.
And yet...nothing. Not one thing was out of place! No way, this was way too easy. I was halfway through my morning shower when it hit me.
I knew exactly what he had done.
My heart pounding in my chest, a lump of fear lodged deep in my throat...I walked. Ever. So. Slowly. to my bedroom nightstand. Hands shaking, I opened the drawer.
GASP! My worst fear realized, tears sprang to my eyes.
It...was...gone...
That asshole piece of shit threw my vibrator in the dumpster!! Yes, my dear 'pet' rabbit lay dying among week old vegetables and used Q-tips. And that's when I heard the only sound that could make my morning even worse...
The rattle, hum, and click of... the garbage truck.
Since that fateful day, there are two things I've come to believe: 1) A true best friend is someone who, upon hearing of this tragedy, runs right out and buys you a replacement vibrator. And 2) Somewhere in America there is one very happy wife of a garbage man.
Unbeknownst to me, Ex-B had taken to stalking me that week. Had I known this, I'm not so sure I would have chosen to escort D back to his hotel for one last cocktail, but alas- that's exactly what I did.
It was around midnight when the texts began.
"I know where you are, I know who you are with, and I know what you are doing...you will regret this, I promise!"
On...and on...and on. Clearly Ex-B has an unlimited texting plan.
D and I decided it best at this point for me to stay the night at the hotel. I had visions of finding Ex-B armed, dangerous, and intoxicated waiting for me just outside the front door.
Two thoughts hit me simultaneously when I awoke the following morning. 1) He's gone to my house, used the key I gave him, and done something awful. 2) He's contacted my mother.
Don't ask me how I knew these things, but I did.
I called my mom as I drove home and, sure enough, Ex-B had sent her an email describing in detail what he believed I had been doing throughout the previous evening.
(As a side note: No woman, of any age, should ever have to hear "You need to learn to keep your panties on and your legs shut" come out of their mother's mouth.)
When I pulled into the driveway of my house, I immediately began scouring the property. Either Ex-B was about to pop out from around the corner with a machete and a stink eye...or the place was going to go up in flames the second I opened the door.
And yet...nothing. Not one thing was out of place! No way, this was way too easy. I was halfway through my morning shower when it hit me.
I knew exactly what he had done.
My heart pounding in my chest, a lump of fear lodged deep in my throat...I walked. Ever. So. Slowly. to my bedroom nightstand. Hands shaking, I opened the drawer.
GASP! My worst fear realized, tears sprang to my eyes.
It...was...gone...
That asshole piece of shit threw my vibrator in the dumpster!! Yes, my dear 'pet' rabbit lay dying among week old vegetables and used Q-tips. And that's when I heard the only sound that could make my morning even worse...
The rattle, hum, and click of... the garbage truck.
Since that fateful day, there are two things I've come to believe: 1) A true best friend is someone who, upon hearing of this tragedy, runs right out and buys you a replacement vibrator. And 2) Somewhere in America there is one very happy wife of a garbage man.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Only One Thing on my Mind Right Now...
Ya know...I like wearing sexy lacy panties.
But the lace rips too easily. So you end up with a collection of torn sexy lacy panties that make you look like a dirty whore that either:
A) Can't afford replacements
or
B) Just got laid ever so violently
when
C) All you did was your laundry
So in conclusion, not-as-sexy non-lacy panties make much more sense. But then they get labeled 'Granny Panties'.
Gah.
Being a girl is hard.
But the lace rips too easily. So you end up with a collection of torn sexy lacy panties that make you look like a dirty whore that either:
A) Can't afford replacements
or
B) Just got laid ever so violently
when
C) All you did was your laundry
So in conclusion, not-as-sexy non-lacy panties make much more sense. But then they get labeled 'Granny Panties'.
Gah.
Being a girl is hard.
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