There is no such thing as TMI...

BitterSweet Victory.

2010-11-28T22:21:00.001-08:00

I did it.

I woke the kidlet in the next room to share the news.

He was pretty out of it.

I remember how last year, I met CJ for dinner to celebrate.

Tonight, I guess I'll go to bed.

'Night.

Thanks for the Clarity.

2010-11-25T09:42:00.000-08:00

Damn, a lot has happened in the last year.

A year ago, I was a scared single mama. Taking the kidlet on a road trip, just the two of us. We made amazing memories during that long weekend. I agonized over whether to contact Leon, and remember how I decided to just do it. Hell, I'd just stood on the edge of a canyon with no railing. I could text a man I cared about to let him know I was thinking about him. I wished him well and he responded.

And I came home a different person. Braver. I remember racing home to see CF, who called me out on stuff, and got me out of my comfort zone. What we decided that night did not end up happening. But not because I wasn't brave enough. Because he wasn't.

And less than five months later, the kidlet and I flew to another state where I navigated a wonderful trip for him. On my own. And I wasn't scared and it was amazing. And a few months after that, I did it again.

I've got this.

I had avoided watching Private Practice for the last three weeks. I didn't think I could handle watching the Charlotte/rape storyline.

But yesterday, I went to therapy. And we talked about the assault. And we talked about how scared I've been. And we talked about how I need to remember not to let my anger at LI get pushed off onto the husband or to Eric. And how I should be responsive, not reactive. It's a little easier said than done. Because I can't control how other people act.

But last night, I decided to go ahead and watch the episodes I had been avoiding.

And, sure, it was awful. And, yeah, I looked away during the brutal scenes.

But what really struck me was how they focused on the reactions of those closest to her. And how they navigated the minefield of emotion around her.

And I found myself realizing that maybe... Just maybe... Eric isn't quite the asshole I think he is.

That maybe he simply did not know how to deal with what happened. And the flipping out I did freaked him out. So, he ran away instead of facing it head-on.

Am I excusing his whole "it's okay for me to cheat on my girlfriend and make you feel insignificant" act? No.

But maybe he was grieving too. Because if he ever did love me (and I really would like to think that he did at one time. I spent a significant period of time with the man) maybe it was really hard for him to deal with what had happened. Then again, maybe he didn't really realize what happened. I did downplay it quite a bit that night.

But last night, watching that show... I sat on this couch, beneath the red blanket, and I shivered. Just like I did that night. With Eric on the other end of the couch. He had to have known that something inside of me had shifted.

But for whatever tough act I'd put up that night, Eric was the one who knew me best. He was the one who pointed out the vulnerability inside of me. And he was the one who had sworn never to hurt me.

And then there's the husband. Maybe the reason why he wouldn't hold my hand the other night after dinner or when we went to coffee is that he's scared. He actually does know what happened. Maybe, just maybe, he deserves a little bit of grace because maybe, just maybe, he's scared to touch me because he's scared of scaring me the way he does know that I was scared that night.

And the girls who know and have not contacted me since? Maybe I can offer them some grace now, too. Because they don't know how much it hurts to share something so awful and then have them disappear. And they don't know that Eric did the same thing to me, so that makes their disappearance hurt that much more.

For whatever reason, people are who they are. And they don't get the answers when they don't ask the questions. And I can learn to be okay with that... Eventually.

Two years ago, TF and CB included me with their family. And I remember checking my phone for some kind of acknowledgement that HRT was thinking of me. (I really need to stop having major breakups in November! (Yes, even the husband and I broke up over Thanksgiving. Three years ago. LOL)

But this morning, I did that silly note about books on fb. And some of those titles were highlighted, thanks to people who are no longer in my world.

So, I sent a little Light and Love their way, and I'm moving on.

I'll get through this day. Even though I know where I'm not wanted. I'm grateful to know that I was wanted in many other places today.

And I'm going to forgive those who didn't want me today. Because they know not what they do. They're not wired that way.

And, hell, I'm even going to forgive the ones who didn't want me today that DO know what they do. Because I want to be THAT girl.

I'm going to be good to ME today.

And I'm so fucking grateful for the Thanksgivings past that brought me to where I am today. I DO have a lot to be thankful for, even if it doesn't look like it from the outside.

Scars heal. And they DO fade. I'm walking proof of that.

I have a wonderful child who loves me and I had an amazing day with him yesterday. And when I do see him again, I'll be so glad.

I have a plan for today.

I have my BGPs. I have technology. I have an awesome job. I have amazing friends. I am loved. Maybe not by one man who wants to love me and be with me, but I am surrounded by love. I do know this.

And I'm finally learning to be alone. And it doesn't totally suck. It's got its perks, too.

Happiest of Thanksgivings to you, the few who bother to read this drivel. Live and Breathe Gratitude.

Reason/Season Crap.

2010-11-24T09:11:00.000-08:00

So, apparently, I have this reputation.

For being the girl who cuts people out of her world.

And that's, supposedly, scary to those who love me.

Case brought up to me many times in recent months:

Ari.

Look, Ari and I are fine. I emailed her on her birthday. I'm over it. She's not. This is no longer MY decision.

All I needed was time away from someone who was being deliberately cruel to me. Should I not have that right? Should I not be allowed to decide when someone is being poisonous to me and to eliminate that from my world?

Eric asked me early on if I tended to "break up" with friends.

And, yes. I have. I like closure, what can I say? ::shrug::

I wonder what it says about the person I used to be that I chose people to be a part of my world that would prove unworthy. Why did I have these people around me in the first place?

And I'm not breaking up with everyone who pisses me off lately. I'm just re-drawing boundaries. My inner circle does seem to be shrinking a bit. And I'm okay with that right now. I'm also trying to spread myself around a little bit. Pulling others into my inner circle so I don't completely overwhelm those closest to me with my pain and grief. I don't want to be the girl that nobody wants to talk to because I'm such a pain in the ass these days. I know I'm not my usual barrel of laughs right now.

Eric told me more than once when we argued that he was afraid that he would piss me off and that I would cut him out of my world... Like I had with Ari.

But let's remember that Ari didn't just piss me off. Ari hurt me deeply. And she compounded that hurt by flaunting it in my face. She showed no sensitivity whatsoever to my pain. She allowed me no time to wrap my mind around that new reality before she was throwing it in my face. And Eric was the one who pointed out what she was doing! And I actually defended her!

And then there's Eric.

And I'm, supposedly, the bitch who drove him away and cut him out of my world.

But that's not exactly what happened.

Yes, I diminished contact out of respect for my husband. And I think that most should agree that that was the right decision.

But when it came time to be friends? Eric was the one who had no boundaries. Eric was the one who walked out of Cara's house to talk to me for 45 minutes, and in that conversation he told me he was still attracted to me. I was the one who told him not to say that to me. How could he know if he was still attracted to me? He had not seen me in three months. I was the one who told him he was not being very loyal to his girlfriend.

I was being the good guy. Trying to be respectful of the relationship he had jumped into five minutes after we had broken up.

But then everything else happened. He was the one who said he wanted to kiss me. He was the one who told me he loved me. He was the one who told me that he had missed me.

I didn't say any of those things back to him at that time.

And then when he decided to compound his bad decisions by asking me to be an accomplice?

Why am I the bad guy for saying I did not think I could be his friend if he expected me to be a part of that lie?

And then... The guy who told me that he never wanted to piss me off so that I would cut him out of my world? He's the one who cut me out of his.

I'm tired of taking the blame on this one.

He's the one who cheated. He's the one who lied. And he's the one who cut me out of his world.

And I'm sitting here, feeling like I have to defend myself for not being friends with him anymore.

And then last night... When the husband told me about a phone call he had received. And all of that awful HRT stuff came back to him. And Cinderella's evil little plan to "tell him the truth", but anonymously? Ugh.

But then I started to think again... This really does smack of HRT. Jeez, I make bad decisions when it comes to love.

I thought Eric was different than HRT.

I finally came to realize that HRT was a sick, sick man. And he deliberately hurt me because that made him feel better about everything that was happening in his world.

But HRT felt helpless when his wife had left him. So, he decided to take it out on the next girl. And that turned out to be me.

And, I suppose that's what Eric was all about, too.

I wouldn't have believed it about him, though. So, now I get to just try. To believe that he was as cruel as HRT.

He's cut me out as effectively as HRT did.

But, oh... Eric... Who was so sad when his ex didn't acknowledge his birthday. And even I did.

Tomorrow's Thanksgiving.

I can't help hoping he will show me some kind of kindness. Some acknowledgement that I do exist. Some acknowledgement that we were supposed to have been together on that day. Just us. Halfway around the world.

I know that he won't. On some level, I do know that he won't.

But I still can't help hoping.

The way that Eric left things with me? So unfinished. So unfair.

And you're probably reading this, going, "You deserve it, RetroMama. Karma's a bitch. You did it to Ari."

Sometimes it sucks to be so misunderstood.

Until last night, the husband did not even know whether or not I even had somewhere to be tomorrow. It never even occurred to him to invite me to share tomorrow with him and our son.

And he expects a fucking medal because he had fun at dinner the other night? And he took me out for coffee? (No, he asked me and drove to coffee. LOL.)

The husband and I are really good friends. I find myself being able to process out what LI did and the aftermath with him. Which is strange.

I'm grateful for that friendship.

But I know that is all it is. And he'll get there. Eventually.

And in the meantime... Fuck, I could really use some sleep. Eesh.

Passing Out = Chickening Out. (and vice versa)

2010-11-21T10:58:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was a pretty good day, actually.

Then came the night.

I had been texting with CJ before leaving for dinner. ("CJ?" you ask as you frantically go back in the blog about a year to figure out who I'm talking about. "Really? CJ?")

It actually makes sense. It's November. He was rather pivotal last November.

Anyway.

Went to dinner with the husband. Had a nice meal, we talked the whole time. I got a little drunk.

And nothing happened.

He actually drove to the front gate and asked if he could drop me off there.

"You're not even going to walk me in?"

He walked me in. Came in, sat down for a few minutes and then left. I think he hugged me goodbye and said he'd talk to me later.

O...Kay.

And then I found the texts CJ had sent while I had been out.

And I explained that I was drunk.

And then the texts got pretty flirty. Nothing over-the-top, but flirty, for sure.

The last one I saw was where he said, "I definitely wouldn't turn down the offer to keep warm. :)"

And I stared at it for awhile, turned the phone to silent and tiptoed over to the other side of the room to put it on the charger. Where it stayed for the rest of the night.

I may be lonely, but I am fucking terrified. Even of a guy who has proved on more than one occasion that he wouldn't try to have sex with me.

But somehow, I've found a shred of self-respect throughout all of this. How on earth is that possible? Am I really respecting myself enough to not let myself be used again? And to not use other people for whatever comfort I can glean from them?

Or am I just too scared?

Whatever it is, it resulted in a decent night of sleep. (Thank you, Cadillac margarita and Nyquil!)

And today... I've been playing around and caffeinating... Not really getting done what I should, but I'm enjoying my own company right now.

And something just hit me like a ton of bricks.

Eric's gonna pull an HRT on me.

That apology isn't ever going to come, is it?

I know the answer.

It's not.

The only difference is that one day, I will run into him. And hopefully it is far enough in the future to where my wounds will have healed into scars that have faded.

And if I could heal from what HRT did?

Eventually, I'll heal from these hurts, too.

Eventually. Even though the ones who did this won't ever be brave enough to try to help me do it.

Wait. That's not true. LI actually apologized. So did CJ.

Huh.

Emotional Sense.

2010-11-20T11:51:00.001-08:00

I did not sleep as well as I had hoped last night. But that's okay.

Because when I finally decided to look at my phone this morning, I found this gem:

"The fact is that until you process all the emotions of (fill in the blank), anger will serve the many cover-up functions that nature designed it to. Even irrational anger makes emotional sense. And no one ever said "emotional sense" makes sense."

I can fill in the blank with what LI did.

And that means that everything that came after makes emotional sense.

And that means the horrible conversations I've been having with Eric in my head are... Dare I say it? Normal??!!??

A friend and I were chatting a few days ago. And I said that Eric will probably get to a point where he wants to apologize. She said I should not give him that satisfaction. Why offer him forgiveness if I've already forgiven him in my head?

And I admitted that I haven't forgiven Eric yet. And if he were to come apologize to me, I would let him because, dammit, I deserve that.

The day will come when I get past that need. But right now, I do feel like I would be better off if he came to me and admitted, "Yeah, I fucked up. I never should have touched you that night because it hurt you. And I'm sorry for hurting you."

I mean, shit. LI apologized for what he did. Told me he regrets it. (Does that mean I'm letting him off the hook? Nope.)

But Eric? Who is running around like he's the injured party? He has not apologized. Not to me, anyway.

I'm sure he apologized to Cara. I'm sure he threw me under the bus again. They're probably off snuggling together drinking hot chocolate, staying in during this storm. Hell, they've probably got all the kids together for a movie marathon. All cozy and happy because Eric told her that the crazy chick is out of their lives. He probably told her I lied about the whole thing.

But deep down, he knows I told the truth. And deep down, he knows that he deserves for me to be angry with him. Rational or not, he pretended to be my friend. He told me he loved me. He lied. And if he ever did love me (which I'm coming to the realization that he probably never did), he will come to regret that. Especially if he told me the truth while we sat here that night. When he thanked me. If he really meant that? He'll come to WANT to apologize to me.

And right now? I would let him. Because I fucking deserve that. I deserve for him to acknowledge that he hurt me.

I acknowledged I hurt him. Because that's the kind of chick I am.

But I'm going to continue to wrap myself in this blanket of anger for awhile. Even thought I can acknowledge that it's growing thinner each day.

And one day, I'll wake up and realize I'm not angry anymore. In the last 36 hours, the hatred has dissipated a bit. I'm more focused on what I can actually control.

I'm focusing on that text from this morning. And the email I got from a former student. These people believe in ME.

And I'm going to be worthy of that.

Taking Care of Me.

2010-11-19T20:49:00.000-08:00

I've been trying to be good to myself.

Going to bed early. Eating well. (Well, when it occurs to me.) Talking to those who are a comfort. Using my words. Telling my story. Working out.

There are those who tell me I'll just be victimized all over again. And it wouldn't do any good. LI is going to get away with it. Let it go.

And there are those who tell me that even without the physical evidence, I still have a case. I still have a right to be heard. I didn't do anything wrong.

I told my therapist everything. Yes, everything. And we laughed when I swore to him that I'm right-handed.

And then the couples therapy. That was actually pretty productive. The guy did tell us that it doesn't really seem like we should get back together. And then the husband acted like it mattered. And I told him about LI. And he was actually pretty nice about it.

And then I worked out with Pete Jones. And it was awesome. And I realized that he can never break up with his girlfriend. Because he's the only man I trust right now. And he's been so great to me. Helping me work out frustrations. Helping me focus on being healthy. Telling me that LI was a fucking asshole. Telling me that no matter what happened since, that he hoped Eric would step up and testify about how messed up I was when LI left. Because that would be the right thing to do.

And I'm being patient. And not impulsive.

And three days later, I spoke to a lawyer.

And I'm still just so stunned and grateful for the conversation we had tonight. He is the first person I went into detail with. And he let me cry. And he told me over and over again that it's not my fault. He asked me detailed questions. He told me what my options are. He was really, really good to me. I'm incredibly grateful for the kindness this stranger showed me this evening.

This week has been a rather difficult one. But I'm trying really hard to be good to myself. I haven't written much. I need to catch up. I've got a bunch of middle-schoolers counting on me. I need a good night of sleep tonight. I haven't really gotten one since LI walked through my door a month ago.

So, I'm offering myself the gift of sleep.

I'm not going to think about whether or not Eric would step up to tell the authorities about how I sat on this couch that night, huddled under a blanket, shivering uncontrollably. Or if he would continue to pretend I don't exist and just let me continue to suffer without justice.

I'm not going to think about the people with whom I work who are not quite as dedicated as I am to these amazing kids.

I'm not going to think about how I could have been on a transatlantic flight tonight.

I'm not going to think about the fact that my husband actually asked me out on a date for tomorrow evening.

I'm not going to think about any of that.

I'm just going to stretch the muscles that Pete Jones pushed twice this week and think about the book cover that a former student drew for me. And the poem that some girl I don't even know wrote for me because she loves the book I wrote last year and she believes that I've inspired her to "read and do right choices"...

I'm going to think about how snuggly my boy was tonight and how well he's doing in school.

I'm going to think about how I may be getting rid of this couch sooner than I had even thought possible.

I'm going to think about the girls who hugged me and yelled at me and loved me on Sunday.

I'm going to breathe.

And I'm going to be.

And I'm going to rest.

And that's all for today.

PSA.

2010-11-14T18:18:00.000-08:00

Ladies,

If you are ever sexually assaulted, do exactly the opposite of what you want to do.

Number One: Do NOT take a shower.

Number Two: Do NOT wash your clothes.

Number Three: Do NOT throw out your clothes.

Number Four: Do NOT take the trash down to the dumpster. You know the trash. The trash with the evidence. Such as that shirt. Or the semen on the paper towel from where it was wiped off of your body.

Number Five: Do NOT turn to your ex-boyfriend to comfort you.

Number Six: Do NOT delete the phone numbers of your attacker.

Sure, you might have avoided the trip to the police station. You might have managed to avoid the horrific things they would put you through in order to make their case. But that means that four weeks later, when you're ready to press charges, you've got nothing. Even when it would have been a federal offense, what with the crossing of state lines with the intent to commit sexual assault and all.

Because, at the end of the day, it all boils down to a "he-said, she-said" kind of a situation.

And now, when I finally get angry at the guy who deserves it? It's too late. He's all back in his own bed, all comfy, with the wife and kids nearby, an upstanding member of the community, and I'm stuck with nothing. Well, not nothing. I've got scars. And he'll do it again to someone else.

Fuck that.

But now that I've found my balls, it's too late.

Oh, and for the love of all things holy, do NOT turn to that ex-boyfriend who wants to be "friends".

Because he will just use you, too. But he'll tell you he loves you, so in your head, it makes it okay. Because you feel loved and safe. And you can pretend what happened earlier didn't happen.

Oh, but the ex-boyfriend will fuck you over even worse than the guy who assaulted you. Because he'll tell you days later, "Oh, that was a mistake. You actually DON'T matter."

At least the guy who attacked you never told you you were special. And you remember that maybe it was a little bit your fault because your hackles were up, but you still let him in the door. (And that's what the cops would tell you, too. Ugh.)

But that ex-boyfriend. Who used you and then pretended to be your friend, and then watched you fall apart... And then decided he wanted nothing to do with you as you spun out of control... Which, of course, made you even crazier.

And then you did that incredibly stupid thing. That thing that made you feel better for that night. That thing you never understood. Until it happened to you.

And then you suddenly felt guilty for telling his girlfriend.

Because a few people told you you had no right to do that.

Um, he GAVE me that right when he was with me that night. If he did not want me to tell her, he shouldn't have touched me.

Fuck, he should have picked me up and taken me to the police station, himself, that night.

But, he didn't.

And then he couldn't understand why I was upset. And that upset me further. And that led to all kinds of bad behavior.

And, then... I fucking apologized to him.

WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT ABOUT?!???

Even back when he was saying he wanted to be my friend, he never did apologize for hurting me that way.

Fucking Eric. Out of every human being on the planet, I NEVER would have believed that about him.

But then he decided to absolve himself of all responsibility by dragging TF into it.

And then... Even knowing how incredibly out-of-control I was... He told me to please stop emailing him.

Wow.

It's a really good thing I'm NOT suicidal.

Kid's got some balls of his own for thinking THAT was an appropriate thing to say to me on that day.

And I know... With every fiber of my being, I KNOW that he will come to regret his part in hurting me. He's not there, yet. But he will be.

And, by then... It will be TOO LATE.

Because I think I found my balls in my hometown.

Everybody's telling me, "Oh, be glad Eric told you that you guys shouldn't talk." "Now, you can be done with that drama and focus on YOU."

Um, fuck that.

I should have been the one to say that to him.

And I would have... Eventually.

But for him to kick my crutch out from under me? And for him to tell himself, "I did nothing wrong. RetroMama should not have talked to Cara."

What drove me to do that, Eric?

And what drove me to do everything that came after that?

Sure, I made the decision to do the stupid shit. But you d0 NOT get to tell yourself you're blameless in this. If you hadn't touched me that night, I would have had nothing to TELL Cara.

So, FUCK YOU.

And while I'm on this note...

FUCK YOU, LI, for what you did. FUCK YOU for coming into my home and touching me the way you did. Even after I told you it wasn't okay. Especially then. And especially for finishing it the way you did. And then for apologizing to me the moment it was over. And saying you'd "make it up to" me.

FUCK YOU. The only way to "make it up to" me is for you to fucking own up to what you did. To your wife, to your kids, and to your entire fucking town. Oh, and to pay for my fucking therapy. I would have rather have watched you get arrested and hauled off to prison, but since that option's out, I'll have to hope for public humiliation instead. I want you to feel as ugly and dirty as you made me feel.

And since I'm slinging blame tonight, I've got a word or two for the husband, too:

None of this would have happened if you had done something. Anything. But the sitting and doing nothing? My letting you do that is what got me to that place on that night.

If you had told me that you wanted to be with me, LI never would have been here that night. If you had given me a fucking HUG once in awhile, LI never would have been here that night. Or if you had told me we were done, I highly doubt LI would have been here that night, either.

Yes, much of this goes back to decisions I made a long time ago.

But I'm still just a girl who wants to love and to be loved.

And I was so fucking desperate for that that I trusted the WRONG person.

And then compounded that by trusting the WRONGER person. (Shut up. I get to make up words.)

So, here's the new plan:

1. Therapy.

2. Not do the stupid shit anymore. Cold-turkey. Done. Clean for three days.

3. Get out of this fucking "marriage". Officially. For real.

4. Read a book.

5. Write a book.

6. Be with my kid.

7. Take any hugs I can get. As long as I follow my gut on it.

8. Sleep.

9. Exercise.

10. Get rid of that fucking Euro.

11. Name names.

Ripping off the Bandage

2010-11-11T23:42:00.000-08:00

Eric was my bandage.

When Eric came to me the night I had been assaulted, he applied a balm to my wounds. And wrapped them up tightly.

And I clung to that. I clung to him.

And when he told me that he wanted to be committed to Cara, that being with me had been a mistake, it hurt so much more because he took himself away from me. He took the only person who knew what had happened to me that night.

And now when it's nighttime, that's when I'm all alone. And that's when it hurts so much all over again.

Bits and pieces I had managed to block out are flooding back to me...

I can see LI here. In my space. I can remember how I pushed him away, how I told him to stop, how I told him to slow down, to stop. And I remember how I just lay here so still afterward, just needing him to leave. And I hear myself telling him "it's okay" as he apologized over and over again. Because I knew that if I told him it wasn't okay that he would not leave. And I needed him to get on that plane. I needed him to fly far, far away. I don't think the door was even closed behind him when I clapped my hand to my mouth and tried to stifle my sobs.

And I just keep seeing that over and over again.

And I remember how I felt when Eric put his arms around me an hour later... And it felt so good to be held. And it was so lovely to be able to just hug him and smell him. And I felt safe.

And then everything got all fucked up.

And with Eric gone, I can't cover up what happened that night anymore. The bandage doesn't stick anymore.

And I don't want to remember that. I only want to remember what happened afterward. And I'm trying, but that's all ruined now.

And I'm hurting so badly that I lashed out at the one person who I could have talked to. And I broke it.

And I wanted to. Because he was the one who made me feel better, and then he took himself away. And now I get to deal with this double pain of betrayal.

And tonight... When I spoke to a friend... And I said that I'm going to have to have these tough conversations in the very near future. And I said out loud that I don't think I could ever tell the husband that I had been sexually assaulted. Because I'm afraid that he would blame me. "Why did you even invite him over that night?"

And Eric never blamed me. Told me that, no, LI had no respect for me to do what he did. But he never blamed me.

And now? When I find myself crying for hours each night? I find myself being able to answer questions that I had never asked out loud. Scary questions. Questions that I never asked because I did not want to hear the answers. But now I ask myself the questions and I find myself able to answer them because I know the answers for myself.

It's not a pretty place I'm in right now.

And I know it's gonna get a hell of a lot worse before it gets better.

But I know that I'm sorry. I am sorry I hurt Eric the way that I did. But I know it's too soon to tell him so.

So, for now, I'll keep going through the motions. Trying to infuse my days with enough gratitude to get me through the nights. Trying not to think about the answers I now know. Trying to get my strength up for what's coming.

Because this RetroMama shell looks like the same lady. She's just not one to return phone calls like the one she got tonight. From a guy she met awhile ago. One who'd intrigued her at the time.

She's not interested in talking to any man right now.

Of course, she's thinking she's not interested in talking to any man EVER.

She's just a little bit too broken right now.

Letter to Eric.

2010-11-10T17:27:00.000-08:00

Dear Eric,

I'm sad now.

In that last angry email you sent me, you reminded me that you and I had enjoyed each other. And that you wanted to focus on that.

And we really had.

So, why did you tell Cara that you and I were "incompatible for dating"?

That wasn't true.

You and I were totally compatible for dating. We totally enjoyed each other's company. We laughed together, cried together. We talked for hours on end.

We took trips together. Wonderful ones. We enjoyed traveling together. We were good at that. We flew to faraway destinations and then took road trips from there. Just the other day, I was remembering how you held the door for me after we had played in the snow. And you leaned in to kiss me. And it was so sweet.

And we could talk about politics and religion and relationships and the dorkiest shit imaginable. All the way through two states and back.

And then we took that ride over the falls, something that terrified each of us. But we took that risk. Together. And then that walk over that bridge. Together.

We weren't compatible?

Fuck you for saying that. Ever. Sure, we argued. Because we were passionate about each other. But for you to dismiss our relationship like that? When even as recently as two days ago, you were still reminding me that I was the one who broke up with you???!!!

You betrayed me long before I told Cara the truth. You lied about me. You lied about our love for each other. Or maybe you didn't lie to her. Maybe you lied to me. Maybe you were lying to me as we drove down that highway, watching the deer hopping alongside the road. Maybe you were lying to me when we held hands in that cab in my favorite City.

I can't believe we've come to a place where you can minimize everything that we shared. And you were doing it long before I spoke to her.

Fuck you, you self-serving jerk.

And I'm sitting here, crying, because you decided to give me the big "fuck you" by blocking me on Facebook? You wanted to hurt me? Congratulations, you've done it. Again.

I guess this is what happens when you get too involved with a rebound.

I should have known this was going to end this way. I guess I did know that night when you first told me you were dating her.

That's why I asked for the journal back.

Not because I wanted it. But because I didn't want YOU to have it. Because even then, I didn't trust you with it. I knew the day would come when you would share our words with someone else.

I destroyed it. I destroyed it before I even saw you again.

And then everything else happened. And I realized that I still love you. That I'm still in love with you.

And I allowed myself to let you use me. And I allowed myself to get caught up in your games. And your shades of gray.

Dammit, Eric. I trusted you. And now I'm second-guessing everything you EVER said to me.

I owe you a huge "thank you".

Thank you for reminding me that anybody who says "I'm the most honest person out there. I never lie. I'm completely forthcoming" is probably hiding something.

Cara was stunned. She trusted you, too.

But her shock made me realize that maybe I really didn't know you as well as I had thought. Or maybe you really were completely honest with me, but since that blew up in your face, you decided not to trust her as much as you had trusted me.

Eric, I'm sorry I hurt you when I broke up with you. I really, truly am. I loved you. I trusted you. I was so happy to anticipate going to Europe with you. I actually let my guard down and thought we could have a future together. I wanted to let you keep your promise to kiss me under the Eiffel Tower.

You were the only man I really considered that way.

And I got scared. And I wanted my family back. And I felt like I couldn't move forward with you until I had actually finished my marriage. For real. It was a very confusing time for me. Surely you can understand that.

And today, I told V about where that marriage is going. And, again, she was not surprised.

I was, apparently, the last to know.

Except for you. I think that since you loved me so much, you couldn't imagine why my husband would not jump at the chance to get back together with me. Because you would have.

But, he didn't. And he wouldn't.

And I would not have known that if I had not broken up with you.

And, deep down inside, you know that. You do know that.

But I am sad to know that you minimized what we shared to the next woman. It makes sense. Hell, it would have been nicer for me if you had minimized stuff for my benefit. ::shrug::

But then we got to this place...

This place where you are probably seeing red.

I'm not sorry I did what I did, Eric. You should have been the one to tell Cara. And you can tell yourself all you want to that you would have told her, but I think that you knew you never would have. Especially since you chose to be with her again after what you and I shared.

And, I don't know where you are with her. I don't know if you have managed to talk your way back into her heart and into her bed. It wouldn't surprise me. Hell, you spin for a living. And one thing she said to me kind of set off alarm bells in my mind. Made me think that she just might be weak enough to take you back.

Well, I hope that if you guys make it through this that you end up being happy together. And at least you can move forward without secrets and lies between you.

I know you want to hurt me. I know you think I told Cara to hurt you.

That's not why I did it, though. At least, that wasn't the primary reason.

I told her because she deserved to know. And you had knowledge that she absolutely deserved to know. I stand by that. One hundred percent. (It was what I told her the next day. She said she would add it to her list of questions for you. Please tell me you are not so naive that you honestly did not think you should have told her that one thing from the first day.)

I am sorry that I hurt you when I broke up with you.

And I'm sorry if it hurts you to know what happened to the journal. (I kept it from you because I didn't want to hurt you then. I'm admitting it now because I'm angry and you did something to deliberately hurt me, so I'm doing the same back to you. Immature, sure. But I'm mad, too.)

But, Eric. I loved you. And to realize that with such clarity and then to find out that you lied about me and to me? So soon after realizing I would have to grieve for our relationship? When I'm realizing that I am choosing to live without Love? Without Affection? Two gifts that you gave me so freely?

I'm aching here. I'm missing who I used to be when I was with you. I'm missing the man that I thought you were.

You did the wrong thing. And I took that choice away from you because you made the wrong choice. But your mistake wasn't in being with me that night. Your mistake was lying about it. Your mistake was deciding that Cara was more important than I was.

Grownups hurt each other. Grownups make mistakes. But grownups don't go running out and getting completely enmeshed in the next relationship just because they're lonely.

Yes, I broke up with you. Yes, you were lonely, so you went out and found someone new. As you've repeated so often in recent weeks, "We each did what we had to do."

But you know, deep down inside, that if you had only waited... You and I could have had a chance. And you know that you miss me. And you know that you love me. And you know that the love you have for me is not "not that way anymore".

You do know that.

And you can hate me all you want to because it's easier than hating yourself.

But you know, deep down, that you're the one that fucked up. And you can pretend all you want to that you're just upset because you lost Cara (if you even did).

But she did NOT matter to you like you're pretending she does.

You miss being a family. And THAT is why you decided to become one so quickly with her.

You KNOW that you did the wrong thing there. You KNOW that my rules are in place for a reason. And you hate me because I actually follow my rules. And you hate me because you know that I am right. And you know you fucked up.

So, go ahead and blame me all you want. Go ahead and destroy everything I ever gave you. Go ahead and tell everybody that I'm a fucking bitch for telling your girlfriend something I had no right to say.

And, you're right. That was your job. And you failed.

And you hate me because I was the best friend you ever had. I was the one who knew you better than anybody else in your world, including your "best friend", who's known you for years.

But when you're tired of hating me, take a good look in the mirror, Eric.

I would have been that friend. Even if we were never lovers again.

Thank you for turning out to be such a coward. Thank you for serving to remind me to go with my instincts. Because my instincts were spot-on about you. That first time we met, you made it so clear that you didn't really respect me.

And then I dated you for the next five months.

Oh, my god.

What the fuck was I thinking?

Eric, I am sorry you got hurt. I am. Because I did love you.

But I needed to burn our bridge. Because I probably would have ended up getting back together with you down the line. I always said that you and I would work out in ten years.

But maybe now that I've done this thing, you'll still hate me in ten years. And that will keep us from making a huge mistake.

I'm going to learn not to discount what you and I did share when we were in love. Because we were. And we were good together. We boosted each other up and we challenged each other to test our own limits. We shared some amazing memories together.

Thank you again, for being there for me that night when LI did what he did to me. Thank you for holding me and making me feel safe. Thank you for making me smile and for helping me to sleep.

You'll be glad to know that I'm really having trouble with the whole LI thing now. I've scheduled an extra therapy session to help me deal with it. Since you hate me so much, you'll be glad to know that I'm pretty devastated by all of this. Throw in the whole victimization thing, and I'm just a bundle of fucked-up nerves. I'm sure that'll make you feel better.

So, congratulations, Eric. Your goal was to hurt me, and you have succeeded.

I'm not going to hate you, though. Sure, I'm really sad right now. And I wish I could talk to someone that I considered one of my best friends.

And, hey, if you're wasting a bunch of energy on hating me, at least you're thinking about me, right?

I'm going to keep loving you, though. And I'm going to remember that you're not quite the perfect man for me that I thought you were. And I'm going to remember that, yes, we really were "incompatible for dating". But I'm going to remember that there was a time when we weren't. When we were really good together.

Reason, Season, Lifetime, Eric.

I've been walking around with a Euro in my pocket.

Light and Love,

RetroMama

Playing "The Other Woman". Or NOT.

2010-11-08T18:20:00.000-08:00

I lost my virginity a few months shy of my 17th birthday.

It was a pretty good experience as far as first sexual experiences go. I was in love. I knew the guy loved me. We had already done pretty much everything else, so the actual act of intercourse was a simple progression.

I'm grateful for that.

Of course, once my parents found out that we were having sex (or rather, suspecting!), they put the fear of God (or rather, the fear of JAIL) into the poor guy. He had turned 18, and they threatened statutory rape charges.

The kid was so glad they did not make him stop dating me, but he was terrified of having sex with me again until I was 18.

So, there were other things. I was fine with it most of the time. But there were times when I wasn't fine with it. And times that he forced me.

I didn't even break up with him for that.

I remember the afternoon when we did break up. And I went to work that night. And after work, I went out with a guy I had become friends with through work.

And that young man kissed me that night.

And I remember going to school the next morning, anticipating seeing my friends. I was desperate to tell them that I had broken up with Alex, but that another boy had kissed me.

Of course, a girl at my school had committed suicide the night before, so my boy drama took a backseat to that.

Within a few weeks, however, I was messing around with the new boy fairly regularly. Not having sex, but pretty damn close. We did go out. He actually offered me a ring fairly early on. I refused.

It wasn't long before my friends found out I was dating the new boy. And a particular group of friends knew him. Because he was the long-time boyfriend of a girl in their youth group. The guy was practically engaged. But getting naked with me on a fairly regular basis.

Ew. I ended things pretty quickly at that. I had too much respect for myself to be the other woman.

Then I got involved with the next guy. He would end up being the fiancee. It was while I was dating him that I began to have flashbacks of what had occurred with the first boyfriend. It was the fiancee that used the word "rape" for the first time.

A year later, I would run into that first boyfriend. And I would use the word "rape" to his face. And he would look me in the eye and apologize for what he had done.

Of course, the fiancee felt pretty good about himself. He would never rape me. He would spend the rest of his life with a scar on his right hand when that fist connected with the first boyfriend's teeth.

Of course, that fist would end up connecting with my face a year later.

But I didn't even break up with him right away for that.

I had gone off to college during that time.

And once I broke off the "engagement", I went a little wild. I kissed a lot of boys. None of them respected me. None had a reason to.

Many of them had girlfriends. And I simply did not care. Because if they had a girlfriend, they would not get close enough to me to break my heart or my spirit.

Sex was my shield. Sex was my weapon.

I finally calmed down enough to date a boy who would never rape me. Or hit me. But he would let me know in other ways that I wasn't quite good enough. And I let him.

I went through a few more phases of being the other woman because it was safer.

And then I met the husband.

And he treated me like gold. For many years.

Until he didn't.

And when we were breaking up, I fell into that thing with the soulmate. Ah, the soulmate.
The man who turned me inside out, woke me up, and got me out of that marriage I needed to leave. That soulmate.

He was no longer living with his girlfriend, but they were still speaking. I guess, in a way, I was the other woman for him. And because I was still, technically, married, he kept me a secret. Nobody knew that he loved me.

And when we broke up, he waited about five minutes before inviting a new woman into his bed.

But a few weeks later, he saw me. And I knew that he had been seeing someone new. But when he invited me to stay, I was pretty powerless to resist. He still had that hold on me.

And he did not kick me out the next day, bless his heart.

But I never did see him again.

I did hear from him for awhile. Especially when things were not going well with the woman that he would end up marrying.

Yep. He married her. And she has no idea that I even existed.

And I let that happen.

Because he and I were done. I would never see him again. We would stay in touch periodically for awhile. But I have not contacted him in over a year. And I have not heard from him in about that long. As far as I know, they're happy. He was not committed to her at the time we last made love, but once he did, he did.

Did I feel a little used? Nah. I got what I wanted that night. Was I sad that he would not be in my world for a longer period of time? Sure.

But thanks to Richard from Texas, I let that go.

When I mentioned him to TF the other day, she reminded me, "But you never thought you had a future with him." And she was right. I always knew that the soulmate and I were finite.

But I did feel a little icky about being the other woman. Which is a major reason why I never saw him again.

And through a lot of therapy, I've come to realize that I have some pretty serious issues when it comes to men. I won't go into all of that here.

However, you probably need to know that RetroMama has not always had this self-esteem that she holds dear now. She really let men use her as she used men in turn. She chose men who were "committed" to other women because it kept them from getting close enough to break her heart. Because she was sick of being raped. She didn't want to be hit. She didn't want someone to tell her that she really wasn't pretty enough, or smart enough, or good enough.

So, she chose other women's men.

But those days have been over for a long time. She does not choose other women's men. She's not that fucked up little girl who had been used and abused. She would rather be alone that with someone who will never be hers. (Clarity? Yes. But we'll save THAT for another blog for another day.)

Eric was the man who really made me realize that I deserve to be treated well. Eric respected me. Eric loved me. Eric made me realize that it's okay not to settle. That I am pretty enough. And I am smart enough. And I am good enough.

But then...

That night... When LI came over here and took something from me. I told him to stop. I told him to slow down. I told him to leave.

And he did not.

He did not "rape" me in the technical sense. But as TF validated for me, he did rape me in an emotional sense. He did something after I told him to stop.

I took the same shower I would have taken if he had raped me. I washed and washed and I made the water hotter than I could stand. I washed my clothes twice and still ended up throwing out the tee-shirt I had worn that night.

And Eric came to me that night and made me feel safe. He touched me with love and affection and gentleness.

But he had a girlfriend. Oh, but that didn't really matter because he was going to break up with her anyway.

So, when Eric touched me that night, I did not feel guilty.

For days, I did not feel guilty.

But then he threw me under the bus. And he not only did not break up with his girlfriend, but he told her that I had told him I still loved him.

Um, I would never have said that to another woman's man if he had not told me that, repeatedly, in the previous days.

But then he did not break up with her.

And he did not tell her what he had done with me. And what he had said to me. He only told her what I said.

Great. Now, she hates me.

And I stuck up for her that night when he told me he had booked that trip. I told him that he was leading her on. And that he wasn't being fair to her if he only told her half the story.

But that day... When he told her what I had said, but not what he had said?

Something broke in me.

Because Eric... Darling, wonderful, loving, amazing Eric... Eric made me into the "other woman".

And I can't condone that and I can't respect that.

And I was fucking pissed off that he did that.

Because he was the last person on the planet that I believed would ever disrespect me that way.

So, I told him we couldn't be friends.

But he fought for me.

And I thought I could forgive him. As long as he did not make me a party to his dishonesty. If we were to be friends, I would have to be friends with Cara, too. And I could not be friends with Cara if he did not tell her the truth.

So, he asked for a "break". "Let's take November. You write your novel, let me get through my stuff. Then we'll be friends."

I assumed that he meant he would have told Cara the truth. Because that was my condition. Not an ultimatum. Just a condition.

And as the days passed and we weren't talking, I realized that there was no reason to wait and have a conversation in December if he had not told her the truth.

And, surely, he would know by now.

So, I emailed him and asked him. He'd said it was okay to email if we needed to. I needed to. So, I did.

And he ignored me.

Until today. Finally. After I actually had started worrying about whether or not something awful had befallen him or his family.

And after dragging it out all fucking day long, he finally answered me in a one-word email.

"No."

Well, there's my answer.

I'm done with Eric. And while I did call him, hoping for a decent good-bye this time, he chose not to answer my call except for when he had a kid with him. Knowing I would not pressure him to speak in front of his kid.

So, I may have left him a voicemail. One in which I told him I'm so damned disappointed. That I had expected so much more from him. That he had always treated me with respect. And that I'm having trouble wrapping my mind around this. But that I hoped he would choose to be happy. That it would be worth it. I said that stuff at the end.

Huh. He must not have listened to that part. Because he described it as a "diatribe" in his last email. Which he sent about two hours after that voicemail.

Um, okay.

He opened with how furious he is with me.

Yeah. I think he's going to be even more furious with me by the time this night is over.

Because, you see, I realized something that I never realized before. Back when I was in college, I liked being the other woman. It made me feel powerful. Sexy.

But now? Now I feel dirty. (Which really sucks. Because last night when I was so upset, I found myself thinking about LI and what he did. And I can't focus on how Eric made me feel better. So, now I actually get to deal with that whole act.)

And I realized that I really feel a sense of solidarity with Cara.

And I said in one of those emails over the weekend, that this isn't about him telling her to hurt her. If he broke up with her with our secret intact, that would be okay. I'm just really not okay with allowing this woman to fall further in love with him when he has already betrayed her.

She's a single mom, for crying out loud.

And I would hope that if I'm ever in a relationship again (which is REEEEEEEEAAAAALY doubtful at this point!), that if that man made love to another, I would hope that someone would be brave enough to tell me.

Cara seems like a really nice lady.

She's a little pissed off, though, and confused. And says that Eric's got some 'splainin' to do.

But, yeah. I did tell her. And I apologized for my part in this, and I told her that she does not have to worry about me ever having sex with her boyfriend again. That I had told him two weeks ago to tell her what had happened, and that he had, apparently, decided against it.

So, yeah.

Eric's gonna hate me now.

But you know what?

I'm actually feeling totally okay with that.

Eric said in that email he sent me a couple of hours ago that I can think of him whatever I want. That he knows who he is.

Yeah, well. So do I.

And now, so does Cara. Just as she should.

Courage Amidst Cowardice

2010-11-06T10:22:00.000-07:00

Clarity.

Several days ago, Eric emailed me. Told me that we should take some time off and then let's work towards navigating a friendship. Because he still wants that. And, man... I do, too. Big-time. There's been a gaping hole in my world since I shoved him so unceremoniously out of it.

But I realize that I have a deal-breaker condition.

And if he already knows that he cannot or will not do this one thing, then let's just call it all off now.

I have been living with the assumption that he has already done that one thing. My sister-cousin insists that he has not and that he will never.

Ah, rose-colored glasses, how you deceive me...

I thought that perhaps I should wait the period of time that he had requested before asking the question.

But that seems silly. Why postpone grief? If we are not going to be able to be friends, why not know that now so I can start moving past it? Or, if we are, then sure, allow me this knowledge so that I have something to hold onto in the meantime. Something to help me keep that hope alive.

I waited a day before sending the email asking the question.

And he has not responded.

Which means I have my answer.

And I'm so angry and sad that he is not brave enough to even tell me. When I asked, point-blank. And said, "don't spare my feelings. Just tell me the truth."

It's just words. Say them.

And then I think back to that last therapy appointment with the husband. When we stood on that sidewalk, both of us, apparently, thinking the same thing. "I want to kiss you."

And I stood my ground. And I was going to take that enormous risk.

And he pulled away from me, turned his back on me, and walked away.

I've done some really scary shit in my world.

I've traveled many miles, across bridges with no hand rails. I've used note cards to tell someone I love him. I decided to be with Eric even though I knew that the possibility was very real that I could end up with a broken heart. I left my husband. I asked him to give us another chance.

But a recent Daily Om entry was something about how the decisions you regret are the ones when you did not risk. Regret comes from not trying.

And these men that I have loved. These men that I DO love.

They are not as brave as I am. And they are unwilling to try. Which means that the day will come when they are the ones with the regrets. Because one word could have changed everything. One kiss could have changed everything.

Fuck cowardice.

Yesterday, I ran into a gal who has been that "right person at the right time" for me in the last several months. She has said the scary stuff at moments when I was, apparently, open to it. And she presented risks to me that I chose to take. I put that ring on my wedding finger because I had mentioned to her my hopes. And she suggested that risk. Which, as we all know, blew up in my face. But I'm so glad I took it. I'm so glad I tried. I'm grateful for the pain I am in now because at least I know.

And, yesterday... When she asked me how things were going... I told her about how things have been progressing (or not) with the husband. And I said, "I broke up with a wonderful man who loved me in order to try... And now it's too late for us..."

And she said this to me: There is someone even more wonderful out there.

That had not actually occurred to me in the last few months. I've been imagining being alone so much that I have not even imagined that, perhaps, there is someone out there who will be that wonderful man who eats sushi, drinks wine, brings me flowers, takes me traveling, calls, emails, etc....

But this man will actually be over his grief in his past relationships. And this man will be brave enough to stand up for ME when faced with a decision in which he has to choose. And this man will be someone to whom I will, eventually, want to introduce my son. And he will love my kid as much as I do. And this man will choose ME. And he will be brave enough to take the risks to say so.

So. Universe. I'm upping the ante. I have added to my list of Requirements. Read it, and understand that it's just a minimum list of Requirements.

THIS OR BETTER!!!!!!!!!!!!!

That said, I'm still gonna grieve this latest bit of clarity about Eric. And I've got a long road ahead of me when it comes to the grieving over the husband. And I'm not going to sit here and say that I'm all zen about it. That letter to "Cara" is still saved. I'm not saying that if I continue to get silence from Eric that I won't go all psychotic bitch on him. (What? I'm nothing if not honest here!)

I'll get to that "Oh, I wish him Light and Love" place. But even though I've had to come to this conclusion without his help, that doesn't mean that I'm ready to forgive him yet. I will.

But I'm not there yet.

As TF reminded me last weekend... This was the first guy I actually imagined a future with. And I know I broke his heart. (Or at least, that's the story some like to tell me. I think they hope it makes me feel better. Like I mattered at some point, at least, even though I don't anymore.)

But I broke my own, too.

But I remember how Nat told me that it's only when the heart cracks that we can let the Light in.

So, I'm letting the Light in.

But when I'm ready... I'm going to stick with the "THIS OR BETTER" mantra.

Because it's braver not to settle.

Not like the two cowards I have loved.

Just give me something to believe....

2010-11-02T20:47:00.000-07:00

...'Cause I am living just to breathe.

What a fucking craptastic day.

I was nearly in tears half a dozen times when I realized just what a disservice I had done to my students by trying out this new schedule just to prove a point to someone who will never look at herself and realize what a horrible teacher she really is. If I wasn't so enraged, I would have been flattered by all of the wonderful things my students said about me. But all I could think was that they deserve so much from every teacher with whom they work.

And the plans I had for tonight... Didn't exactly happen. Since it's the last night before the husband goes on his trip, I thought, for sure, we would go for coffee...

I thought wrong.

I told him to drop me off at home so I could get some writing done. He was too distracted to have a conversation with me anyway. Why bother?

But I did ask him: While you're gone, are you working under the assumption that we're still working on things?

He didn't even hesitate when he said "yes".

Fuck.

"And when you come back, you see us as working on things because you want to get back together?"

And for the first time since this all began, he said, "Yes."

Is he fucking kidding me?!?

And then TF played DA with me. And I so wasn't in the mood for it.

No, I'm not putting off telling him what is really happening because I care what people think of me. (Shit, if I cared what people thought of me, I wouldn't write what I do here. Haha.) I truly believe that allowing him to come to his own conclusions (either on his own or with the therapist pointing it out) is what will be best for our family, over all. And while it's hard to put off my real life while he's trying to figure this shit out, hell... I've been putting off my real life for three years. What's another few weeks?

::shrug::

But when he called to say he would pick me up instead of me driving over to meet him to pick up our son?

I pulled up the fucking BGPs, lemme tell ya.

And I got in his truck and said: You know how you said that you think you're coming back and we're going to work on stuff? Well, I don't believe you. I have no reason to believe you. You have given me nothing to hold onto while you're gone. I have no reason to think that you will be thinking about me. I have nothing to look forward to when you get back. I'm waiting for you to change. And you're 40 years old. That's not fair of me to ask you to change. And I don't think it's a matter of desire. I think you do WANT to change. But I really think it's a matter of capability. I don't think you're capable of change.

And he didn't really answer me. When I asked him if he had anything to say, he said, "I don't know what you want."

I said, "I want something to hold onto."

He said that he worries about how this trip will affect us, since it's been such an issue in the last couple of months. I said, "I'm not worried. Honestly? I don't even care at this point." And that was the truth.

And then he tried to say something about how he doesn't want his one big trip to be an issue, especially since I've made it clear that I plan to travel, too.

Moments later, I made this point: I would be inviting you on any trip I take in the future. You will never invite me on this trip.

And then there was the usual family dinner. And it was great. And we all had fun together.

And then we got to my apartment. And the kidlet clung to his dad because he's going to miss him. But he was pretty calm about leaving him.

And then as I got out, he said, "I'll call you."

And then he grabbed my hand.

And kissed it.

And I closed the door, slung my arm around the kidlet's shoulders and walked away. I didn't look back.

It's been awhile....

2010-11-01T20:36:00.000-07:00

...since I've posted a blog under the influence.

I kind of forgot to eat dinner and then I had a glass of wine. And there was so little left in the bottle, I decided I had to finish that, too.

And drunken blogging has to be better than drunken noveling, right?

I so appreciate my TF.

Sure, we got in a huge fight a couple of weeks ago. Complete with crying and hurt feelings.

And apologies.

Huh. Grownups can own up to when they fuck up. And apologize. And a fight doesn't necessarily mean a breakup.

And I opened with, "I'm fragile today. Please no yelling."

And there was no yelling. Oh, no. She even expressed pride in me when I admitted some really painful shit.

And she's the only person on this entire planet who is still kind of rooting for Eric. Or rather, maybe not Eric, but the person she knows I am when I am with him.

I risked everything when I broke up with him.

And it has pretty much blown up in my face.

I don't know if the husband even realizes where this is going to end. And even though I said more than a week ago, I know how it will end, I'm still the stupid girl that hopes I am wrong. And it's not because of Eric.

But when TF was so proud of me for admitting how I really feel? And it seemed too late already?

But I am being me. The "in your face" kind of gal I am. Because at the heart of it all, I know his heart. Just as I know the husband's heart. It seems like the only heart I am denying is my own.

And Eric's been in this thing with another woman. I know he doesn't love her like he loves me. But he's mad at me. I hurt him. I get that.

And for a day, I've been hoping. Because when I got that email from him this morning... For the first time, I let myself believe that maybe we would end up being friends.

Because from the first day we ever spoke... I knew I should be friends with him.

But as I'm writing this book.... And really looking at my characters... They are young and they are flawed.

And we're not young. But we're flawed... But there are some flaws that we can live with...

And others that we can't.... And when push comes to shove... Eric chose to throw me under the bus....

It's not only that he put someone else's feelings before mine. That was his right. He owes nothing to the woman who, supposedly, broke his heart.

But that day... When he had a choice to make... When he chose to tell only half of the truth... He told the half that would make him look like a saint and cast me in the role of sinner.

And we all know that RetroMama's pretty quick to admit she's a sinner.

And I would, happily, willingly, jump on a grenade for someone I love.

But there's a difference between jumping on a grenade and being pushed under a bus.

And he did it because he chose to put another first. Someone he had already betrayed. As though betraying me would make that betrayal better.

But he did betray me that day.

And I want so badly to forgive.

But I don't know if I can forget. Because I can't help but wonder if that one choice was the choice that revealed his true character.

And there are a thousand other things I should be focusing on. But this one thing...

I know the day will come when he will realize I was right. And I know the day will come when he will regret trespassing on MY heart and not hers. But I don't know if it will be too late by then.

I need more rocks.

2010-10-26T20:18:00.000-07:00

I have had the clarity.

I know what's coming. I have been feeling okay, but I think I was numb.

It's hitting me now.

And everybody thinks I'm so kickass and I can do this by myself. And I know I can. And I know I should. And... Well... I know I will.

But sometimes boys are fucking stupid. (except for the two reading this, of course!)

And I don't think its completely out of line for me to wish I had a fucking handrail.

Grief is a Domino.

2010-10-24T08:56:00.001-07:00

Yesterday was a tough day. I knew it would be. But I didn't know just how bad it would be.

I made plans to do something good, something hard, first thing in the morning. And I did it. Ten miles in the rain. And it was good. And it was hard. And there were moments when I found myself laughing. And others when I found myself sobbing.

There I was, thinking I was grieving one thing, and then it turned out I was grieving a whole lot more. It's almost like a domino effect. I start crying about one thing, then realize I've got something else to cry about, which, of course, leads to something entirely different to cry about.

I didn't make as big a deal about yesterday as I have in years past. I kind of wanted to go it alone. I kind of wanted to just... Be.

But the night before, I was overcome with certainty: I would hear from Eric. Because he knew what the day would be and he would care enough to contact me. I was also just as certain that I wouldn't hear from the husband.

While I was running, I found myself really reflecting upon what the therapist said last week. And the assignment we have to complete before our next session. And I realized that what he's doing is helping us see compatibility. Because that's what premarital counseling is about, right? Making a decision about whether or not you SHOULD get married. Whether or not it would last.

And it hit me that I know what those lists will show. That other than our son, we really don't have all that much in common. And while differences can really add to a relationship, they can only do that if both parties are willing to learn from the other.

And that's not really true in our case.

On Thursday, the husband and I had made tentative plans to meet for coffee in the morning before I went to work. And it didn't work out. He gave me all the reasons why it wasn't his fault, and said that he was really bummed about it, but I realized that there was one thing he could have done to ensure he was able to follow through with me, and he didn't do that one thing. It didn't even occur to him.

Because his family of origin is more important than the one he chose to create with me.

I remember how up until about 8 years ago, the husband always kissed the back of my hand when he was saying goodbye to me. He's the only one who ever made that gesture. And I loved it. And I missed it. And, yes, I mentioned it a few times in the last several years, and sometimes he would pull that out, but rarely. It no longer occurred to him.

And as I ran, I remembered how on Thursday night, when Eric picked me up for dinner, he got out of the car to greet me and open my door. The husband used to do that all the time. And he hasn't in years.

Sure, a lot of that is woo-ing. And some romantic gestures get swept away when real life steps in. But I'm willing to bet money that Eric still held doors for his wife even 20 years into their relationship. He's that kind of a man.

And now you're thinking, "What the fuck? She went to dinner with Eric?"

It was as friends. His new girlfriend doesn't eat sushi. I do. We went for sushi. As friends. And as friends, he opened up to me and I got pissed off at him. And that was good, right? Haha.

But then Saturday came. And he did contact me. And that was kind. And so many friends contacted me.

But what I really needed was a hug. A good one. One that would allow me to just let go. I needed to cry.

And nobody was around to do that for me.

Including the husband. Who is a mile away.

I called him to figure out the transition. Sure, he asked how my run went. But he didn't ask me how I was feeling. Or if I needed anything. So, we made our arrangements and I went to sob it out in the shower.

And then he changed the transition plan on me.

And when they arrived, he walked into my apartment without touching me. He played with the kidlet for quite awhile before leaving. Only then did he hug me, and quickly invited the kidlet in for a "family hug".

Yes, family is so important to me. Important enough for me to try to get past the pain of everything that came before and try to put our family back together.

But I am not a woman who can live the rest of her life with a man who simply doesn't believe it's important to show his wife that she matters to him.

And I know that in a long-term relationship, there's an ebb and flow to affection. I do understand that.

But I'm basically asking him to want to spend time with me.

And no matter what I do or say or think, I can't get him to change how he feels about what "family" means.

Shit, I remember when I scored us free tickets to a concert ten years ago. And we were so excited about going on a date. Dinner, drinks, the concert. It would be amazing. Between the time we'd planned the date and the concert, we got a puppy.

And as the concert got closer, he was no longer willing to go to dinner. Just the concert. He didn't want to leave the puppy for that long.

I should have known then that dating his wife wasn't going to be important forever.

And I know I'm not supposed to compare, but it's impossible, so here goes:

Eric was still dating his wife at the end. And I'm willing to bet that when they went out with their friends a month after she left him that he was still opening doors for her. In fact, I know that he was planning a weekend getaway for a week or so after she dropped her bombshell. He fucked up in a lot of ways in that relationship, but dating his wife was not one of them.

And I know plenty of men who have been married for years who make it a point to spend time with their wives. So, I don't think I'm being unreasonable when I'm insisting upon this.

And, yes, part of what I'm feeling now is that I know Eric is taking his girlfriend on a trip. A trip he'd asked me to go on. A trip that we won't take.

And I can't even comfort myself with the knowledge that I'll still take it. Because if I get back together with my husband, I won't take that trip. Sure, I'll take it with my son at some point. Or maybe with friends.

But I'll never get to stand in that city with a man who loves me.

And I don't know if I can commit to that.

Guts.

2010-10-19T20:56:00.000-07:00

The kidlet loves the scene in Ramona where she yells "Guts" because it's the worst word she can think of to say.

When referring to me, most people refer to "guts" as "balls". In some circles, they might call it "sass", "spunk", "chutzpah".

But your guts is where you sense stuff.

And while I'm very much on the "five steps forward and three steps back" path, one thing I'd thought I'd gotten better about was listening to my instincts. Following my gut.

Did I mention I bought myself a ring? It's an Endorphin Warrior ring. There's a word stamped on it. FEARLESS. But it's customized. So, the letters aren't totally straight. And when I chose it, I didn't read it as FEARLESS, meaning without fear. I read it as... FEAR LESS. And to me, that means being afraid, but not allowing that fear to rule me.

It seemed fitting to me, especially as I embarked on this "trying to reconcile with my husband" journey. Because I'm actually terrified. He says he's afraid that we'll get back together and in a year, I'll decide it's not what I want and I'll leave. I'm afraid that he'll do the work to get us back together, but that once I'm back, he'll stop putting in that effort. Which, of course, WOULD cause me to leave. And I can't do that to my child. I won't. So, yeah. I'm scared. But that fear won't stop me from giving this all I've got.

And last week... With the disconnectedness... I'd come straight home one night when I was feeling restless. Because I knew that I could find some trouble. But I chose not to. And I was okay.

I've been following my instincts at work. And, holy wow, has it been effective! The teacher with whom I share students says that one class is the worst she's ever had. And while they are challenging, sure, I've followed my gut and am reaching these kids. Today, one of the tougher boys said, "Yes!" all excited when I told him we would be practicing integer subtraction. Who does that? This kid. Because I reached him. And maybe I'm unconventional in some of my methods, but they're trusting me and they're learning with me. It works in our room.

And then this weekend... My instincts screamed at me to cancel my plans. When he got lost on his way to my house, something told me to call it off. But I didn't. And it ended very, very badly. I didn't follow my instincts, and I found myself in a horrible position, angry at myself for allowing myself to be there, disgusted, but ironwilled in my resolve to ensure I never speak to him again. Thankful that he lives many, many miles away.

And while I was initially confused when Eric followed his instincts and emailed me over the weekend, I became very grateful for that later. Because if he hadn't, I wouldn't have turned to him that night. And just being able to finally talk to him made me feel safe enough to sleep that night. And I was finally left with a sense of peace about him. No longer angry. No longer torn up over it. Just grateful, grateful, grateful.

Four months ago, as I was scrolling through my cell phone, I came across a number I hadn't used in five years. I glanced at the calendar and realized it was Rae's birthday. I'd skipped the last four, but something told me to send a text. So, I did. She had been my closest friend for 7 years, and it had a beautiful friendship. She was there to help out when my mom died, she was there the day my son was born. But as seasons change, so did our friendship. And about five years ago, Rae and I were done. There were a couple of emails breaking up, and we only saw each other once after that. But that day, something told me that while I was wishing her a happy birthday in my heart, I should actually tell her this time. And two weeks later, she responded, saying we should get together for lunch sometime. A few weeks after that, we did.

Not long after that, the kidlet asked me if I would ever be friends with Ari again. He was happily reading with a stuffed animal she'd given him on his lap. And I smiled when I made the connection that I had thought I would never see Rae again, but that when we did, we were happy to see each other and fill each other in on our lives. We related to one another as grownups, and while we have not made the effort to repeat the gesture, I know it's simply because we are both adults with very full lives. But we both know that if'/when we do see each other again, we will hug and be glad. So, I told him that I didn't know if I would be friends with Ari again. A month earlier, I might have said, "no", but this time, I said, "I don't know." But at that time, I knew with certainty that I held no ill will toward her at all. I've, apparently, forgiven Ari.

Time really does heal.

I woke up this morning with a smile on my face. For the second day in a row. I'm not beating myself up over the bad decision I made on Sunday. I've been sending so much Light and Love that it's truly been coming back to me in strange, yet beautiful, ways.

I remember when CoffeeLady reminded me that if someone was popping into my consciousness that there was a reason for it. And that I should follow my instincts. And I'm learning to go with my guts and not second-guess what someone's reaction will be. Because I learned a long time ago that I can't control the behavior of others. I can only control how I react to those behaviors. And I'm learning to remember that I can't control others' reactions to me.

But if my intentions are true, and my heart is pure, going with my instincts will never be wrong. And if it blows up in my face, well, I'll grieve it and move on... Eventually. Haha.

Wait. I said it would never be wrong. And I don't actually want to delete that and re-write it. Because I want to make the distinction, that yes, my instincts might be wrong, but I won't allow myself to regret them if I acted in a way that was true to who I am.

So, when Ari's birthday rolled around and I found myself thinking of her with joy in my heart, remembering some wonderful experiences we shared, I did not stop myself from letting her know. And if she chooses to take that in any way other than how I meant it, then that's really her choice. Because I felt truly free when I sent it.

And that joy stayed with me and touched those around me. And I sent a different message to someone else... Someone who responded in a way that had me surprised, and so damned grateful. I felt understood. And I was given words that I want to keep. Words that I hope I'll be allowed to "steal" for my next novel. Because they are poetry.

And then we went to the new therapist. And the dude is OLD. And deaf. And the husband and I had to act as translators for each other a few times when he spoke.

But, holy shit.

Did he nail our situation on the head in the first 45 minutes?

He said his job in the first session is usually to determine whether or not he's doing marital counseling or divorce counseling. He said that with us, though, it's pre-marital counseling. Because, sure, we're married, but on paper only. He drew a diagram that illustrated our lack of a union. And it made so much sense I cried when I saw it. He said that even when we lived together, we were both single parents. And he put a time frame on our situation. One with which the husband didn't quite agree. But the moment he said it, I was hit over the head with the proverbial clarity stick.

And it made me realize that everything that has happened since was inevitable.

Granted, my methods may have been faulty. I'll admit that. But I will regret none of it. Because there are gifts that have come from all of the pain.

And it all comes back to trusting my guts. Because two months ago, my instincts told me to issue an ultimatum. I'd never issued an ultimatum before in my life. And it was hard and it was scary. But it was also RIGHT.

So, maybe this week is about instincts and guts and going with it. But it's also, apparently, about forgiveness. And not just forgiveness of others. I think I'm going to forgive myself today.

Cleaning House.

2010-10-15T17:41:00.000-07:00

I'm de-cluttering. Big-time.

From May: "I like grownup dating. I like doing my own thing, seeing [someone] when I can. Because I can truly appreciate those moments when we're together... I like my realities, meeting [someone] for 5 minutes at the coffee shop, sitting quietly together... Marriage is finding those moments within "real life" to connect... I love [getting away], but I love my life here too... We deserve those special moments outside of reality, but we deserve to appreciate the ones while we're in it."

From July: "...continue to plan for the future while we take it one day at a time."

I had an amazing day today at work. Utterly amazing. Wonderful. Fantastic.

But as the weekend approaches, I find myself thinking about my husband.

And how the thing I probably loved most about Eric is that I never wondered if he was thinking about me. Because he truly made an effort to show me that he was always thinking about me. With the emails, phone calls, visits, surprises left on my doorstep, etc.

I haven't seen my husband in three days. We've spoken briefly, but not about anything of consequence. And this afternoon on my way home, I found myself pondering the situation with him. I feel incredibly disconnected from him. I called him out on Tuesday (kindly, don't worry!) about his lack of courtesy over the weekend when I was so sick. (He'd promised to call and stop by and did neither, and then said, "You could have called me." Argh. On a thousand levels, argh!) We did have a decent conversation that evening, but I guess I just feel like maybe he's just going through the motions right now. Going to therapy and spending time together as a family, but not really trying to make an effort with me on a more intimate level. Maybe I'm just feeling this way because of Eric's unexpected return (brief! And not in person!) to my world.

But this morning, I found an incredible deal for a getaway. And I sent the information to a friend who would probably jump at the chance to share it with his wife. I didn't even mention it to my husband. And then I deleted the information.

It's like I'm not very hopeful anymore about us.

I'm hoping this is just a mood. I'll be seeing him in 20 minutes, and he did call me an hour ago to check and make sure we were still on for tonight.

And I look around my apartment and I don't want him here on a more permanent basis. And then I find myself wondering if I would miss my life here if/when we move back in together. Obviously, the joys of being with my son every night would far outweigh any missing of this life I could possibly do. And I want to take some of this life with me when I do go back.

But I'm scared. Because I feel these glimmers inside of myself. I know that I could very easily fall in love with him again. And that is something I know from experience is hard to get over. Well, over...Ish.

All it would take is the smallest bit of effort on his part.

So, I'm going to be grateful for him NOT taking that step with me right now. Because I'm afraid that with the smallest bit from him that I would be all in.

And I need more. I deserve more.

It's going to be an interesting weekend.

And then it was done.

2010-10-11T22:01:00.000-07:00

It was the flu talking.

I'm over it.

Onward and upward, Groceries.

Pity? Party of One?

2010-10-09T18:08:00.000-07:00

OMG, I am throwing a huge one right now.

I'm sick. I've been sick for days. And not, like, pop two Day-Quil and make it through sick. Like, sleep for 16 hours straight sick. Wake up and do a couple of things and go back to sleep sick.

I haven't been this sick in a long time.

And, of course, being sick makes me think stupid things. And do stupid things.

After last weekend, I felt like I owed Eric a conversation. I'm not proud of how I ended things with him. Over the phone? Never giving him a chance to say goodbye? That was somewhat (okay, extraordinarily!) bitchy of me. Not who I wanted to be. But I'd decided upon my goal, and I needed to go after that. And not look back.

Enter flu. Which gives me too much time to look back.

When Eric blew me off last weekend, I thought, "Well, whatever. I tried. If he can't take five minutes for me to explain, then he'll discover what I did and be hurt, but that's not my fault. I would have talked to him. I wanted to try to do the kind thing."

He couldn't talk because he was getting divorced. Like, for real.

But then... He called again. And I'd just popped some Nyquil and was downing my hot toddy, heavy on the whiskey. I opened with, "I shouldn't be talking to you. I'm on Nyquil AND whiskey..."

So, Eric has a girlfriend. They've been together for several weeks already. Guess he didn't really mean it when he said it would take a long time to get over me. Went on to tell me that she's a single mom with two young kids. Must be his "type". Ugh. I hate being a "type". Went on to tell me that he took her and a friend to my coffee shop. Which explains why the owner was all sympathetic at me last weekend. "But it wasn't like a DATE. I just met them for coffee. I didn't hug her or anything in there!" Is he really that thick? Does he REALLY think that the incredibly astute owner of the coffee shop isn't going to put 2 and 2 together? When the only people he's ever been there with before were his kids or me? OMG.

And there was DM, telling me that Eric and 23 could have this little "We can't get over RetroMama" club. Right. Eric's obviously over me. Which is what I wanted, I guess.

But I guess it's somewhat of a shock. Especially when he made it out to be such a big deal for him to tell me he loved me since that wasn't something he took lightly. Guess maybe he took it lighter than I'd thought.

At least I found all of this out the night after the Husband and I had a fairly good evening together. Oh, did I mention we may have fired our therapist? I don't know what was wrong with her, but we walked out of her office mid-sentence the other night. It was brutal.

And all I could think was that we were finally at a place where we were working on things and now we can't go back to her... Where does that leave us? And that's a scary place to be.

But then the next night, we sat together and relaxed. And he finally hugged me. A really real hug. And he kissed the top of my head. And it felt like it had been so long since I'd been hugged. And it felt so good. And then he texted me when he got home to tell me he'd enjoyed our time together that night. Holy making an effort!!

So, that's where I was when I finally spoke to Eric. For the first time in more than two months. And the day after THAT conversation, Eric emailed me to tell me how much better he felt after our conversation. Well, goody for him. Because I don't. I was finding myself feeling completely unimportant. Like maybe I was lying to myself that whole time. Because I couldn't have meant that much if he got over me so quickly, right?

And he didn't even get why I was so mad about him not telling me his dad was okay. "I thought I wasn't supposed to be talking to you." ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME??? You've been hearing from me every couple of days, checking in on you, and you think you're not allowed to tell me that your dad is alive? What the fuck is that about? Well, I guess I know what that's about. NOF told me when I found out that I wasn't high enough on the priority list to tell. And she was right. Silly me.

And then in my Morning after NyQuil and Whiskey Part II fog, I began obsessing. Eric's now divorced. And he had told a friend months ago that he and I would be engaged the week after his divorce. So, I found myself wondering if he's engaged to his new girlfriend. AND, in further stupidity, I called to ask. (shut up, you two. I'm too weak right now to be able to dodge the many things you're throwing at me right now.) And he laughed at me. Said, "of course, I'm not engaged!" And when I said, "But you told your friend you would be, months ago..." And he doesn't even fucking remember that. Again, hello, Reminder that I Never Really Mattered.

And the Husband was so great the other day. Offered to take the kidlet so that I could just sleep all weekend... I'm a very lucky "single mom" that gets to sleep when she's sick. But when I feel this bad, this lonely, this bored, I can't seem to focus on that.

I find myself focusing on how great Eric was when I was sick earlier this year. Bringing me soup. Snuggling with me.

And the Husband didn't even call until 3 today.

And then Eric texts me with some lame excuse as to why he's not calling me tonight like he'd said he would. So, I texted him back and told him to forget it.

The only reason why I even talked to him was because my defenses were down. But my eyes are open (for the moment. Haha. A little "I sleep a lot these days" humor.) to the truth.

I didn't matter to Eric. I don't matter all that much to the Husband either at the moment. I matter more than I did a week ago, but we're so not there yet.

I need more whiskey and more sleep.

And anybody who wants to tell me that, "Of course, you mattered to Eric at one time" is going to get a huge FUCK YOU from me. So, don't even try it.

I'm not always like this, am I? This is just the flu talking, right? Because I am just so not feeling good right now.

And I'm remembering the first time I got a cold when I was in the dorms in college. And I really missed my mom. And one of my suitemates gave me a little package of kleenex and signed it "from mom".

And maybe this is really what this is all about. Maybe I am just really missing my mom. Or maybe I'm just missing anybody and anything that would take care of me. Because being alone and sick is just not fun. I don't like taking care of myself. I want someone else to do it. I want someone else to WANT to.

Reason, Season, Lifetime. Again.

2010-10-03T10:15:00.000-07:00

I keep forgetting that I can also be a Reason.

I guess I don't give myself enough credit for that. Maybe I'm friends with someone because I'm supposed to connect them to someone else and then I'm supposed to MOVE ON.

But that doesn't stop the hurting.

And it doesn't stop me from feeling stupid when I realize that someone in my world truly does NOT have my best interests at heart. Not that they all should. Because everybody really should be looking out for him/herself. Doing what makes them happy. But I have this expectation that people around me err on the side of kindness.

And I think I'm sick of people choosing to be kinder to someone who, supposedly, doesn't matter. Especially when I'm the one sitting here trying to do the right thing. Trying to err on the side of kindness. Standing up for my friends. Fiercely.

That makes it hurt even more when I realize that all of those things I said in her defense were wrong. Wait. That's not true. She is loyal. Just not to me.

::shrug::

This isn't the first time I've dealt with this. And like before, I'll just change my own boundaries. I don't have to go through a big breakup over this. I just need to change how I behave when I'm around this person. And I certainly need to remind myself not to count on her anymore. 'Cause she certainly doesn't have my back.

I just really hate that I had to pull up the BGPs and do something that I swore two months ago that I wouldn't. Because now someone else gets to get hurt, unnecessarily. But I have to look out for myself and my family and my friends. And I will err on the side of kindness for THEM. And not the one who doesn't really matter that much anymore.

So, this marriage counseling stuff sucks. I pretty much cried for 14 hours after the last session. Not kidding. Barely slept. Woke up crying every time I turned over. Sucked. Hard.

But the very next day, baby steps were taken.

I don't know if my husband and I will end up back together. And I've been asked if this agony will be worth it if we don't.

And the answer is, without a doubt...

YES.

TG reminded me that I have been through a lot without him. Job loss. Deaths of loved ones. Shit, I beat cancer without him.

I know I can survive without him.

And, obviously, if we manage to work things out and learn to be happy together, this excruciating process will all be worth it.

But it will also be worth it if we don't work out.

Because only through this will I know that I really, really, really tried this time.

A stroke of inspiration...

2010-09-25T09:59:00.000-07:00

So, there I was... All knotted and upset at Eric.

And a few days after that post, he emailed me and told me his dad had had a major stroke and was in a coma. And he is so grateful for the lessons I'd taught him about gratitude. Because those lessons are what's getting him through this horrific time.

Wow. I felt like such a bitch.

And then came the dilemma. How do I respond? Because every fiber of my being wants to call him, comfort him, be there for him.

::awkward silence::

TF told me to respond via email. Give him my words. Like I would for any other friend.

But any other friend would be getting phone calls, offers of help. And a friend that lives barely a block away would certainly be getting some kind of care package left on his doorstep.

So, I fought my instincts. Sent the email. And it just didn't feel right. But I gave myself some time. Hoped that unsettled feeling in the pit of my stomach would go away.

But the next day, I saw something at Trader Joe's that I knew he would love. So, I bought it... Left it on his doorstep with an unsigned note.

A day later, I got this amazing email from him. Thanking me. Again, with the gratitude. And I felt better about it.

Of course, a few days later, I wrote again. Sending Light and Love and shit. And it opened up some communication. Just via email. But I know what it's like to watch a parent die. It sucks. And if you haven't been there, there is NO WAY you can possibly understand. How could I fight who I am just because of who he is?

I came to this conclusion: I have to be who I am. If he chooses to misinterpret my empathies, that's really on him. I can't control his reactions. But I can control whether or not I am true to myself.

So, I continued to reach out.

Until the day I got an email where he told me that his dad had made a miraculous recovery. A week after being given last rites, he woke up. But Eric didn't tell me for two days. And that kind of fucking sucks. While he was sending me these amazingly thoughtful emails, surely he could have found 90 seconds somewhere within those 48 hours in which he could have told me that things were looking up. But, no... He strung me along.

And while I'm angry and feel used, I'm still okay with who I was and what I offered throughout the ordeal.

Moving on.

The husband and I went to our first session with the marriage counselor. That was fun. (heavy on the sarcasm) I couldn't stand her. He couldn't either. She certainly didn't seem to like either one of us. But the first thing he said was "I didn't like her, but I'll give her another chance. I'll go again."

The man won't hold my hand when I'm crying because he "doesn't want to get my hopes up". Doesn't want me to read anything into that. But he wants to go back to the therapist. Am I not supposed to read anything into that?

We had a long talk the night after therapy. I swear, I need to invest in Kleenex or something along those lines. I told him what I told myself: Do what feels right to you. If I choose to misinterpret something, that's on me.... He disagreed with that statement. Says I'll end up crying at him later. He's probably right about that. Damn, that guy really does know me. Or rather, he did. I'm a bit different than I was three years ago, that's for sure.

He's asking me for time. And right now, I can give that. I don't know how long I can. But today, I'm okay with that.

The other night, I took the kidlet out to dinner. And as we walked and enjoyed the spectacular scenery of our town, we happened upon a man who was looking at the same sights we were. We shared a nice conversation. He asked me, "So, is it just mom and son? Or Mom, Dad, and Son?"

I looked at my boy and said, "Both?"

The stranger ended up offering his card. And as the kidlet and I walked away, I tossed it in the trash.

Apparently, I'm not open to any other attractive men right now for anything more than conversation.

Trying out this faithful thing, apparently.

100.

2010-09-07T20:32:00.000-07:00

Who knew? I was planning to title this: here we go again. And start with the statement: tapping away at the iPhone. But then I saw that this would be my 100th post. And I had thought I would do something momentous for 100.

But here I am.

I feel like I'm getting back to myself. I saw my trainer today. And we hadn't worked together in awhile. We had tons to catch up on. He asked about Eric and the Ex. And I told him how the Ex has absolutely been making an effort with me. Inviting me to stuff with him and the kidlet. Twice over this weekend.

Of course, I'm all over the map. One minute, I'm all zen. Patient. Allowing him the baby steps that are so huge for him. The next minute, I'm crushed. Telling myself I'm actually finally going to be divorced. And then so damned grateful when he calls me.

And on Sunday, when a close friend was telling me about how the men in her life have declared their love for her and they're willing to do the work to make her happy... It's a heartbreaking choice for her. And yet I'm envious. I don't want to take anything away from someone I love. But here I am, waiting for my husband to say something like that and to mean it... I only want one man to say those things to me. And it's him. And I doubt he ever will. And yet... When I needed help with something this evening, he dropped what he was doing to help me. No questions asked.

And another trusted friend said that I can't expect him to be someone that he hasn't been in a long time. Because maybe he's not that man anymore. This was a half hour after I practically swooned when her brother saved the middle of the cinnamon roll for me. Am I wanting what I can't have? Or are these baby steps truly steps toward all I've ever wanted?

My trainer asked if I'm dating anyone else. And I told him I'm not. He pressed, "no online dating?" nope. Nothing. "I'm still flirting. I'm not dead," I said just as he pressed his hand to my chest to check for a pulse. It felt so great to laugh with him. And to say out loud, "I am a person who needs human touch."

I really just want a hug from him that lasts longer than a few seconds. I want to be held. I want to be able to reach out and hold his hand without wondering if it's okay. I want to know that it IS okay.

And then there's Eric. And I'm so mad at myself for even caring. But he set a goal for himself and he didn't reach it. It was a goal he set because of me.... And typing that sentence made me realize why he failed. He was doing it for me. Not for him. Ugh. But I find myself directing my anger at him. Because I know he's not around to take it. I feel like he wasn't honest. And that was so important to him, supposedly. But he wasn't lying to me. He was lying to himself. And that's simply not my problem anymore.

So, for now, I'll keep doing what I'm doing. Enjoying every minute with my son. Loving every challenge that comes my way. Waiting for the Ex to show me one way or the other what's supposed to happen next. Loving my friends and family with all of me. Laughing at the stupid shit that Ari's pulling. Connecting with my colleagues and my kids.

Once again... Just... Being.

Tapping her foot as her heart breaks.

2010-08-25T19:02:00.000-07:00

Yes, I've been quiet. It's mostly because of Internet issues. But enough of you have asked if I'm okay that I'm tapping away at the iPhone. Just for you. And, okay, for me, too.

I'm still waiting. My husband has yet to tell me in so many words that he wants to try to build a life with me again. And every time I tell myself that a week, two weeks, a month is too long to wait, he says or does something to give me hope again. Take last night's "date", for example. He came over, the kidlet went to bed (thrilled beyond words that his dad AND mom were there!), and we settled in for a movie with wine and snackies.

And then the evening ended. And he told me several times what a great time he had.

And in typical retromama fashion, I found myself wondering after he left... Um, WTF?!? Does this mean he wants to get back together? Are we going to talk tomorrow? Should I not talk to him? Should I call him?

Ugh. And, shut up. This is my husband. Not some random guy.

So, there I was, with every intention of stubbornly avoiding him. And then my gramma gave me permission to not do something that I'd thought I had to do. And the Ex is still my go-to guy. Do I talk to him about it? And is he a factor in my decision?

I know that when he asked me to choose him two years ago, I didn't. I know that devastated him. But even when he asked me, he wasn't truly choosing me. I can see that so clearly. But I am practically begging him to choose me and our family now. And I can't wrap my mind around the fact that he can't see that by not choosing AT ALL, he is making a choice. And it's the wrong one.

But I have to learn to live with that. Again. But for real this time.

The Waiting Game

2010-08-07T12:52:00.000-07:00

He has yet to give me an answer. I went away with the kidlet. Most of the time, I've been able to focus on being with him and just having an amazing time. But then there are moments... When I realize that no matter what he says, something has to change. Because staying married like this has stunted me. I have not been able to move forward because some part of me has remained mired in my marriage.

And, yes. I really do want my marriage to get back to what it could be. But if the answer's not what I'm hoping for? Then I need to learn not to depend on him.

I don't know if I can even trust him to try. To do the work. He says to say yes is the easy answer. Psh. He's so wrong. No is the easy answer. Because then he doesn't have to do the work.

But I couldn't move forward with a wonderful man who was planning to show me the world. I guess I'm still a little fucked up if I wasn't able to accept that.

Guess the joke's on me.

2010-07-28T20:19:00.000-07:00

So, we went on the trip.

Me, the Ex, the kidlet.

Eric was very sweet about sending me off. Brought me a dirty chai the morning I left.

I'd gotten into it with the Ex the evening before we went and I was not exactly looking forward to it.

But then we went.

And it was great.

And we were a family. And the kidlet thrived.

The day I got back, Eric said, "I'm going to tell my boys about you next month. We will have been together for six months by then."

Together? For six months? Does it really count?

"But I don't want to be significant to your kids."

Then there was the kidlet's birthday party. And I found myself looking at the Ex in a very different way.

I cried each night after we got back.

And then sobbed to TF on our way to her brother's bday bash. Finally verbalizing what I had realized.

I want my family back. I want to sleep where my son sleeps every night. I want to be married to him for real. I want to be the one to take care of him. We have this...history together. And that takes a very long time to create. We still have the same inside jokes. The same laughter. He's still my best friend.

And I'm terrified. Because I can't go back and have it be what it was for those last couple of years. But I've changed. Maybe he will have missed me enough to want to be with me again.

Enter therapy. Dr. Tim is not thrilled about me jumping into anything. Which I wouldn't. But he offered to help me find a couples' therapist. And told me to get some sleep before I made any major decisions.

So, I took a nap.

And called Eric that night.

I told him I wanted to put my marriage back together and that I really shouldn't be dating anyone else if I'm really trying.

And then I waited patiently until the next time I saw the Ex.

And we sat in his truck and I told him what had been on my mind.

He was a little bit stunned.

He told me he wants the same thing. But he's scared. Which I can understand. But he loves me. I kind of knew that.

He wouldn't make an impulse decision, but was very affectionate toward me, putting his arm around me, holding my hand. He asked about Eric. I told him that was done. And that, no, I'm not going to Europe with him this fall. I'm ready to start working on us. For real.

So, now... I wait. And hope. But I know what I want. And I know what he wants. Now the only question is how badly he wants it. Because it's going to take a lot of work. But the end result could be so very sweet...

My son deserves this. And so do we.

Musings.

2010-07-17T21:31:00.000-07:00

I went home for a few days. Got to see some dear friends who were in from out-of-state.

Made a small effort to get a group together, and that didn't happen.

And it turned out to be lovely.

I met one gal for coffee. She and I have been friends online and have always had lots to talk about when we've been at group gatherings. But we'd never made the effort to see each other one-on-one. And she sought me out and I was flattered and so glad. She had caught wind of the dramas from a few summers back and said to me, "I don't want to know." And I'd been relieved to reply, "I don't want to tell you!" And I really didn't. By that time, I was kind of over it.

But over coffee, she stared at me and said, "Retromama, you're such a positive person! Why don't those girls like you?" And I said something about too many strong personalities and whatnot, but it wasn't a big deal. Here's someone who actually does hang out with those girls and truly doesn't seem to be in the middle. I can be candid with her, and while she sees flaws in all, she can still navigate friendships with all of us. I admire that about her.

Later, I met another friend, and was thrilled that it was just us two moms and our boys. And we can get to the nitty gritty really easily. And she spoiled my kid and I let her.

I just read a blog that prompted this one. It was written by a friend that I know through an online group. She and I have gone through phases where we're pretty close and other times when we're not. It was usually pretty easy. She's someone I've trusted with some pretty major stuff. She's particularly close to some other close friends, so I know she knows a lot about me.

Something happened several months ago, and I really pulled back from her. Because we weren't that tight at the time, she probably didn't even realize it. But it was a wake-up call for me. Because she showed me where her loyalty was. And it wasn't with me. And that was fine. I was hurt and angry, but didn't confront her about it.

We've had a few interactions since then. And I've hung out with her and we've talked (not about my hurt feelings) and it's okay. While I would never really want to be particularly close to her again, she's still someone I can appreciate having in my world. Just on a different level.

And that's not weird for me.

I've made some major changes in the last year in how I relate to many people in my world. No, not all of them are people with whom I've felt like I had to "break up". Nor have I always felt the need to have a big conversation about the changes. I've just changed my own way of communicating with them.

And I'm discovering that it's okay. I'M okay with it.

I was about to type about how that's strange.

But the strange thing is this: It's not.

It's just... Me.

Meet the Parent.

2010-07-17T21:28:00.000-07:00

Eric did.

And it wasn't a whole "my guy is coming to meet my dad" kind of a thing.

It was just that we all happened to be in the same town and they are two men who would have a lot to talk about.

And they did.

I probably didn't even have to be there.

::shrug::

Timing is Everything.

2010-07-11T16:07:00.001-07:00

A few weeks ago, I'd made plans to meet a couple of the good girls for dinner. We had kept it on the DL because one of them was in town for a few weeks and didn't have time to see everyone. I decided to meet them and then stay at my gramma's for a night before heading to the spa and a little getaway.

I'd planned the getaway a few weeks earlier. Eric was going to be out of town and the Ex and the kidlet were supposed to take a trip during that time. They would be back in time for my niece's birthday party and I wasn't going to be invited, of course.

After the whole new year's debacle and then the experience with the sheriff, I knew that getting the hell out of dodge would be the best for everybody. Most importantly, it would be the best for me.

Of course, the Ex didn't end up taking the kidlet on the trip he'd planned. And there I was, with a pre-paid hotel room. I was going away, anyway.

As I was finishing up my packing, I got a text, asking me if I was going to be getting together with the mean girls that night. Ironically, a couple of them were in town and there was a mini-reunion happening that night. A mini-reunion that the good girls would have known about. And I was so grateful that I already had plans. And while I would have enjoyed seeing a couple of the people who would be at that reunion, I was extremely grateful to be planning a low-key evening with people that would keep it drama-free.

I had the thought-process that perhaps my name would come up at that mini-reunion. And I thought that it would be really sad if these women who hadn't seen each other in a year had nothing more interesting going on in their lives than to talk about me. I haven't asked what happened that night, and I'm pleased with myself about that. I'm pretty beyond that whole crowd.

And the three of us just had a wonderful time. Jenn kept telling me that the Ex still loves me. And while I didn't like hearing it, I knew that I needed to. And we talked about how we do actually judge people, but that a real friend loves you anyway.

I'd been reflecting upon a question that Eric asked me not too long ago... "Retromama, do you have a lot of girlfriends with whom you've had "breakups"?"

And I was somewhat embarrassed to admit that, yes, I have had very close friendships that have ended in some kind of a breakup. Of course, Eric had witnessed the Ari thing. And I found myself contemplating the mean girls and their reasons for being so cruel to me. And it came down to how they had judged me for behaviors that were none of their business. And they decided they no longer loved me because of something I had done that had nothing to do with them. And I really wondered if I had ever done that in any of my past breakups with friends.

And I realized that when I broke up with girlfriends in the past, it wasn't because they had made a choice for themselves with which I didn't agree. It was more because of WHO they were. As in, their aura. Their energies.

Sure, Ari and I broke up because of her betrayal, but she and I were on the outs long before us. She was a person that I couldn't count on or even trust. Hence, the ultimate breakup.

With Rae? Who had been my closest friend when the Ex and I had first gotten married? Sure, she was making decisions about her own life that I didn't agree with. But the breakup came only when those decisions actually affected me and my family. I couldn't keep her negativity around me and my family.

The crap that I pulled that caused the mean girls to break up with me? Shit, they should be grateful for that stuff. Because if I hadn't been running around keeping a few secrets from them, I wouldn't have even been around for all of the amazing experiences we shared. At the end of the day, I was a better friend to them than I would have been during that time.

Which gets me back to my grateful place about the soulmate. I didn't run into him when I was in his town. And I was glad. But I know now that I could have. And I would have been okay. And I reflected upon all of the experiences I had during the time that he was in my world. Not experiences I had with him, but on my own because he encouraged me to get out.

And then there I was, all alone in a hotel room for two days. And I spent an entire glorious day reading... It was lovely. The book was split into chapters that had dates as titles.

And when I got to the date that was my wedding anniversary, I kind of came undone. I was shocked to realize I was crying. And for about thirty seconds, I did the whole, "it was supposed to be forever. Why doesn't he love me?"

Last week, I asked the Ex if he was upset I am planning a trip to Europe with Eric. He said he was happy for me. While pretending to cry. He did say that he was glad for me, though, because he had heard me say a lot that I want to go to Europe.

And it was in that hotel room that I heard Jenn's words in my head, "He still loves you."

And for years, I've been telling myself that he simply doesn't love me ENOUGH.

But then there was that moment of clarity. When I realized that he does absolutely love me. And he loves me enough to let me go. Because he knows what I truly want and what I deserve. And he knows that he cannot give it to me. So, he lets me go and encourages me to live my life. And if someone else will provide for me what he cannot, he's happy for me on some level.

Whoa.

I also came to realize that I'm really happy with where Eric and I are. I don't think I'll ever be married again. And right now, Eric's okay with that. And that makes me glad. I'm truly looking forward to the things we have planned together.

Although, I was somewhat uncomfortable when he told me that he's looking forward to meeting my gramma. Because I still haven't met anybody in his world. Well, except for his sons. But, whatever. My gramma said that it sounds like Eric is more of a match for me than my Ex is.

And then I went shopping, and got into a conversation with the sales gal and called him my boyfriend.

WTF.

But at the end of the day, that's probably what he is. I just can't handle the label. And hopefully he'll continue to be okay with that.

And then I got to hang out with TF and her whole family as I came back to reality last night. And CB said something about it being dangerous for me to be alone with my thoughts for two days.

But, it's not really, anymore. I was really okay. My self-talk is far more positive than it used to be. I'm pretty happy these days.

So, even though it's summer, and there are anniversaries hitting me right and left, I'm actually okay with taking time to reflect and move through it. And I'm moving through it much quicker these days. I'm not the drama-girl that I was three years ago. And I'm not getting drawn into that anymore either. Not being a part of whatever went down last week was a beautiful place for me to be.

IP said to me not too long ago, "You can't have your cake and eat it too."

And I've really thought about that as well. And I decided that I absolutely can. Because I'm doing it. And I'll continue to do so.

Those Three Little Words.

2010-07-01T17:23:00.000-07:00

This afternoon, I got a text from someone who had recently "caught up on" my blog entries. Asked if I was okay with the whole on-again, off-again thing with Eric.

And I realized that I am pretty much totally okay with where he and I are right now.

Although something happened today that gave me pause.

He called me when he had a spare few moments... And as we ended our conversation, he threw out "I love you."

I hesitated. The kidlet was in the next room, and I wasn't sure I wanted to answer any questions. I did answer with "I love you, too," after a moment.

And it's strange.

Because he refused for so many months to say it, stopping himself whenever we got off the phone. And then he said it that one night, but then didn't for several days.

And today.

He just threw it out there. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And now I'm the one that's all uncomfortable.

And I wonder if I'm uncomfortable because of where we, supposedly, are in our relationship? Sure, I'm free to see other people. So is he. But I told him not to tell me if he does. Because I would be horribly jealous.

And yet... The Ex and I are taking the kidlet on a trip together. Just for a few days. And I have yet to mention that to Eric.

Why am I not telling him? I know that I will tell him. I just haven't had the chance. It's not really something I want to throw out in a text. And I have nothing to feel guilty about. I don't think it's guilt that I feel. I keep trying to put myself in his shoes, though. How would I feel if he and his ex were taking a trip together with their kids? I'd like to think I'd be okay with it. But I don't really know. And I can say I'd be fine with it 'til the cows come home, because I am 100% certain that I will never have to worry about that.

Ah, sweet hypocrisy.

I guess I feel like maybe he thinks we're back together. And in my mind, we're not. Sure we're planning a major trip out of the country together. But that doesn't mean I'm his girlfriend. Or rather, I suppose I am his girlfriend. But he's not my boyfriend. Does that make sense?

Hmm... Actually, it does make sense in my head.

So, I'll just keep doing my thing. Not freaking out when I only hear from him sporadically during this time... Going on my own little mini-vacations.

I laughed when I said something about how "It must be summer. I'm barely sleeping in my own bed." And it's not that I'm sleeping in anybody else's. At least not WITH them. I'm just traveling a lot.

And I like that. It keeps me sane... Well, sane-ish.

::grin::

Matters of the Heart.

2010-06-30T14:10:00.001-07:00

(alternate title: Indigestion)

I donated platelets yesterday. It was a tough donation. I did a double. I took Tums several times during the process to battle the tingling. I was proud of myself, though. I was glad I'd put on a few pounds, thanks to the cross-training, so I was eligible for the double.

I was tired when I got home, and really had to go to the bathroom. I felt like I had gas really bad.

And then it moved upward. Not quite into my chest, but certainly not my usual upset tummy. I sat on the toilet wondering if I was having a heart attack.

I didn't make it to the kidlet's practice. I texted The Ex to tell him I wasn't feeling well. He asked about my symptoms and I told him. He recommended Tums. I took a few and spent the next hour on my side.

I got up feeling much better, but completely exhausted.

Eric had left town with his boys, but we'd made a tentative phone date. I texted him to tell him that I had not had a heart attack, but that I wasn't feeling well and would be asleep by the time he was able to call.

He called right away.

And asked why I hadn't called him.

Um, because he's out of town? And he had his kids?

His next question was why I hadn't called an ambulance... Or the Ex.

And I explained that I had called the Ex.

And then I found myself wondering how that would have played out if Eric was still in town. Would I have called him? Would I have been candid with him about my symptoms?

The Ex and I still have this level of honesty with one another. No embarrassment about bodily functions whatsoever. I can talk to him about shit and gas and whatnot with no problems.

So, regarding this... The Ex is still my go-to guy. Add in the fact that he's still my husband, and it's probably not surprising that I would turn to him before I turn to my... What are we calling Eric these days? The guy I am in love with? But the guy who's not my boyfriend?

Ugh.

I'm not going to overanalyze this. Shocking, I know.

I'm just going to be grateful for the fact that I didn't have a heart attack. And that the Ex was able to diagnose the worst heartburn ever via text... Yes, TEXT. Weird, but true.

And I'm on the mend.

And I just booked myself a little spa-getaway. I can't wait.

RetroMama Bear

2010-06-20T19:22:00.000-07:00

(Alternate Title: The Bar Fight)

It's funny how everything makes sense afterward. Events that seemed a little "off" in the moment make total sense in the aftermath. And serve to remind me that everything happens the way it's supposed to.

On Friday afternoon, the Ex called me to tell me that the kidlet's cousins were over and he might not want to go to dinner at our usual Friday hangout. I responded that the kidlet really didn't have a choice since it was my night with him and I wanted to go to the usual Friday hangout. Plus, we had a photo shoot in the morning and I wanted to make sure we got home early and got a good night's sleep. I didn't want the photos to show the bags that had taken up residence under my eyes in the previous days.

I arrived at The Hangout and was not thrilled to find that our usual booth was taken. By three guys. I was hoping they were just about finished and maybe we could move from the booth one family had already chosen since ours was unavailable. That had happened a few weeks earlier and I could totally deal with that. I finally settled into the "other" booth as another family arrived. A few minutes later, the Ex and the kidlet joined us.

Each of our three families have one kid, each. The kidlet played with Lani, who is a year older. In fact, the reason why we've been meeting up at The Hangout for the last five years is because Lani and the kidlet went to school together. The dads met at a parent work day and when we happened to run into them at The Hangout one Friday night, we ended up sitting together. Henry is a super-friendly guy. The Ex calls him my Friday Night Boyfriend. His wife, Darby, has been a tougher nut to crack. It took me a year before I could even accept that she liked me. Or some semblance of liking me, at least. This is a family that has introduced us to other friends and we've all gone camping. (Henry was one of the ones who looked out for me during the New Years' debacle.)

Pedro, Shelly, and their daughter were the ones who'd arrived first on Friday. They were celebrating that their daughter was asking to use the potty. I finally settled in next to Pedro, across from Shelly. I had my back to the usual booth. Shelly kept making faces and I finally asked what was wrong. She said that the men in our booth were really rude and crude. A fourth had joined them and they were using really foul language and talking about things like blow jobs and such... Darby joked that they were wearing wedding bands and so she knew that none of them had actually received a blow job anytime recently.

Another dad, Bob, joined us. His wife and two daughters were elsewhere. A neighbor of Henry's arrived with his daughter somewhere during the evening as well. I put up with some good-natured ribbing over the fact that I was drinking my cherry Cokes, my usual Friday night fare. Now that I drive myself to The Hangout, I rarely drink any alcohol. Every other grownup at our table was drinking beer, except for Shelly, who had a couple of martinis.

After Shelly brought those guys to my attention, I started listening. Even three booths away, it wasn't hard to hear. Their waitress, Taylor, is 19. Henry (while old enough to be her father) has a crush on her. I have always found her a bit annoying, but whatever. I noticed the 4th guy (we'll call him Striped Shirt) talking to her and Taylor stepping away from the table. Turns out, he'd been hitting on her. Asking for a hug. She gave him one, but he kept asking for more and she had refused.

Striped Shirt kept going outside to have conversations on his cell phone and once when he walked back in, our waitress was leaning over our table, and Striped Shirt put on a big show for his friends, pantomiming hitting our waitress on the ass. From where I was sitting, I couldn't tell if he'd actually done it, but since her expression didn't change, I assumed he was just showing off for his friends. I was pretty disgusted by his frat boy behavior, but whatever.

Our table was kind of on alert, though, after another waitress had brought over something to that table. She asked if they needed anything else and Striped Shirt said, loudly, "Yeah, I ordered a hot blonde in a pink shirt". I turned back to Shelly and made a face. Blonde waitress is probably about 16. Maybe 17.

Henry said that he was going to go over there the next time Taylor was there and say "What time will you be home tonight, Taylor?" Either the drunken frat boys would think that was her dad or her boyfriend, but maybe they'd lay off since we were all in the same room.

That was about the time I realized that the kidlet was still wide awake and that I would have to take him home soon. I gave him a 15-minute warning.

As Taylor walked past us, Henry told her what he was planning. She said she appreciated the offer and she would let us know if she needed help. She said that Striped Shirt kept asking for hugs and that she felt uncomfortable, but that his friends had told him to knock it off, so it should be fine. Plus, maybe Striped Shirt had left, since he hadn't been there the last time she'd visited their table. She asked if we needed anything else and with impeccable timing, the Ex said, "Can I have a hug?" The entire table erupted with tension-reducing laughter.

Eventually, Bob's wife and daughters joined us. We had added a table to our booth and were were just having fun. I realized the 15 minutes I'd given the kidlet had long since passed when he climbed up into the empty booth behind me. I was half-turned to look at him and had a clear view of our booth with the drunken frat boys (in their 30s and 40s, I might add) were hanging out.

I saw Taylor step over the bench on which Striped Shirt had been sitting and lean over their table to start clearing away the remains of their Irish Car Bombs and I saw Striped Shirt walk in. Taylor had her back to me and Striped Shirt, and for some reason, I watched him approach. I didn't realize my hackles were already up when I saw him climb over that bench, trapping Taylor between him and the table. He grabbed her and began to thrust his pelvis against her, repeatedly.

I was half-out of the booth and yelled, "Hey! Get your fucking hands off of her!"

The kidlet started cracking up that I'd used "the f-word", and Darby said, "RetroMama, watch your language in front of the kids!"

I was shaking and said, "I'm sorry I used that word, but you didn't see what he did to Taylor!"

Striped Shirt's buddy got up, grabbed Striped Shirt, and told him to apologize. Striped Shirt asked Taylor if he'd made her uncomfortable. When she told him he had, he apologized to her and then turned back to me and yelled, "You don't have to yell at me like that!"

Still pissed off, I said, "Obviously I did if that's what it took to get you to stop and apologize!"

The rest of the incident is something of a blur. Henry was up, so was the Ex. All booths cleared, and there was a whole lot of testosterone in the room. I was still trapped in the booth, which is probably a good thing. I kept one hand on the kidlet, keeping him in the booth behind me. One of the frat boys said something about the parking lot being right outside, but luckily, it didn't come to that. At a lull, the Ex had gone to get the owner and said, "Either Striped Shirt leaves or we don't come back."

Striped Shirt was told to leave.

Taylor came by to thank us, and Darby was still harping on the fact that I'd dropped the f-bomb. I said, "Like I said, I'm sorry the kids heard me use that word, but I am NOT sorry that I stood up for the 19-year-old girl who was being assaulted 10 feet from us."

Darby got her stuff and took her daughter into the other room, and shaking, I asked the Ex to please walk me and the kidlet to my car. It was now a half-hour after I'd thought we would have left.

The Ex told me I'd done nothing wrong and bits of the blur started floating back into my consciousness. He'd claimed me as his wife to the frat boys. And he'd nearly gotten into a fight because of something I'd done.

I was actually pretty touched by that.

I used the incident as a powerful teaching tool for the kidlet. Told him about how it's never okay to touch someone who doesn't want to be touched. And how the right thing to do when you see someone doing something wrong is to speak up. At one point, he said that he wished his dad had actually hit Striped Shirt. I told him that while Striped Shirt had done something very bad, that it's a good thing Daddy hadn't hit anybody. I said, "When grownups start hitting, somebody goes to jail and we don't want Daddy going to jail."

My son came out of that evening proud of his parents. Knowing that his parents are brave enough to stand up for what's right. And that, yes. Every now and then, the f-word has its place.

Not like Lani. Who, apparently, told her mom, "I would have expected a teacher to have more self-control."

Wow. What a legacy Darby is leaving for her daughter. My response to Darby when she relayed that message was that I was just glad that her daughter hadn't witnessed what I had seen. Darby also said that I could have said something but that dropping that word at "first fire" was a bit much. I questioned, "Is it really first fire when Taylor had already told him she was uncomfortable?" Darby never responded to that.

It's been 48 hours since I went all Mama Bear on some drunken asshole who was feeling up a kid I don't even like. But I've reflected upon the situation and talked it out with a few different people.

I've learned a lot since what the Ex and I have now dubbed "the Bar Fight" (even though no punches were ever thrown. Because we are just that dorky)...

The Ex made the point that being a teacher is nearly irrelevant. In fact, as a teacher, I am responsible for keeping kids safe. And in those moments, Taylor was just a kid who was being harassed and she needed help to solve the problem.

Yes, there are a thousand other ways I might have handled it. And maybe it's because I've been sexually assaulted in the past that I went from zero to 100 in less than a second. At the end of the day, Striped Shirt stopped his behavior and he apologized to his victim.

I realized that Darby really doesn't think much of me as a person. For her to continue to harp on one word instead of what brought it on makes me realize that she must not like me very much.

And I realized that I honestly don't care. I think a couple of years ago that might have bothered me. But it really doesn't. Her opinion means very little to me.

I realized that The Ex has still got my back. He stood up for me when safety was at stake, putting himself in harm's way ("There were six of us and three of them. We could have taken them. I would have done it, but I really didn't want to get in a fight. I'm not in my 20s anymore. I didn't really want to take a punch!".) And even after I left, he never threw me under the bus. Never said that I had overreacted. Told me that Taylor told the owner the whole story and didn't downplay at all what Striped Shirt had done.

He even went back to The Hangout on Saturday with his dad and Pedro. Taylor was all smiley and happy to see them. And the owner didn't say a word about the previous night. The Ex thinks that the owner watched the tapes and the film corroborated the stories he'd gotten. When I realized it had been on film, I said, "Ooh, maybe Darby should watch! She can show Lani what a sexual predator looks like!"

The Ex made the point that nothing will change Darby's stance on that night.

I totally don't want to go to The Hangout on Friday. But I will. And I'll hold my head high. I will say nothing about what happened. Unless Darby brings it up. And I will say, "We're just going to have to agree to disagree on this. I've apologized that the kids heard me use that word. I regret nothing else about how I handled that situation."

::whispers:: I don't even regret using that word, though. Because I don't think anything else would have gotten his attention in that moment.

I'm a fucking hero to a 19-year-old girl who learned a valuable lesson that night. She was told by the owner that she needs to tell him right away when someone's harassing her. It's his job to stop that, not hers to deal with it.

And she knows that no harm will come to her when RetroMama's in town.

Grr.

The best laid plans...

2010-06-14T16:12:00.001-07:00

By Friday, Eric and I were talking again. Constant texts and emails throughout the day. I found myself getting lulled back into him... Feeling stupid for all of these breakups and re-defining what we are to one another. I need to learn to keep my mouth shut.

And when we spoke that night, he described to me yet another interaction with his ex-wife. And that was it.

By the next morning, I told him we needed to go cold-turkey. No more talking. No more texts. No more emails. For a couple of days at least. I can't be his best friend. Not when a best friend would be able to listen to him process how he's feeling about her at any given moment. I can't do that and keep my sanity intact. It hurts too much.

I spent the rest of the day kicking ass. Building a bookcase. And on top of it, I placed an item he'd bought for me on the trip we took for my birthday. And I couldn't resist letting him know.

And that night I went out with friends. And got a little tipsy.

And, here's the thing: Not long ago, I shaved my head. For a thousand reasons (999 of them unselfish, shockingly), I drastically changed the way I look. I am very fortunate in that most people seem to agree that I am one of the lucky few who has a nicely shaped head. But still. I have no hair. And then I broke up with my boyfriend. Why, hello, single woman who won't be finding another man anytime soon!

Haha.

But that night, I was strutting. Feeling good about myself. Confident. On a mission to kiss a stranger. Because that would make me feel good.

It didn't happen. I performed a random act of kindness or two before heading home, but I was going home early and I was going home alone.

Some neighbors were hanging out outside as I walked toward my apartment. And the sexy Indian guy asked me what had happened to my hair. And I explained and they all said it was very noble of me. And the Indian guy told me I am beautiful and asked me if I had any plans right then and did I want to go shoot some pool?

I turned him down for a hundred different reasons, but wow, did I feel good about having been asked!?!

And that was about when I was getting pretty horny. (What? I do! And sometimes the vibrator simply won't cut it.) But I didn't want a stranger. I wanted Eric. I mean, I really, really, really wanted Eric.

And I knew he wouldn't have his kids on Sunday. I had plans to meet up with a girlfriend, but I began planning out a wicked little fantasy.

My plan was to go to his place, seduce him, sleep with him in his bed, and leave this morning, knowing I wouldn't see him or talk to him for a few weeks this time. I wanted to leave my mark on him, my scent in his bed... I wanted him to know what he was missing out on by not being able to love me while he still loves her.

Because I actually seem to have the ability to love more than one man at a time. I don't think the love I have for The Ex takes away from the love I have for Eric at all. Although, I suppose the love I have for Eric does temper the love I have for the Ex a bit. Hmm. I hadn't realized that until just now.

Anyway. Eric has told me before that for him, absence makes the heart grow fonder... So, I wanted to make damn sure he had something amazing to remember me by. And then while we were apart, he would realize how much he loves me and he would magically get over his fears and find his way back to me. That's when we would start our happily ever something or other.

Beautiful fantasy, right?

You're either thinking "Wow, she's brilliant." or "Gawd, what a bitch."

I didn't realize what a bitch I was until I was actually sitting next to him. Because, of course, he said I could see him when I asked. And, of course, he would pour me a glass of wine. And, of course, he would not be able to resist kissing me as he had last week.

I had him right where I wanted him.

My intentions were clear. He had no willpower to resist me. And, I will admit that made me feel pretty damn sexy. All was going according to my plan. I was finally able to show off the sexy underthings I'd purchased weeks earlier with him in mind, and things were going beautifully.

And then...

He said the words.

Fuck.

That SO wasn't what this was supposed to be about!

It was supposed to be about sex. (Shut up. Don't act like you've never used sex to get something you want. And I was just making a long-term investment. Shit.)

And he fucking tells me he loves me?!? Out loud for the first time?!? Gawd, why can't he just be a normal guy who just wants to get laid?

Eesh.

Of course, that wasn't enough to shut me down. And we spent a lovely night together. And I laughed about how "nothing screams "walk of shame" louder than heels click, click, clicking up the stairs at 6:30 in the morning..."

So, no. I didn't cut him off completely today. And I ended up telling him all about my evil little plan... Which, shockingly, did not include attempting to coerce him into telling me he loves me. I swear upon anything I could possibly find holy that was not my intention.

And he didn't just tell me once.

But I giggle about how when we spoke on the phone this afternoon, there was that awkward moment as we said goodbye... "Will he say it? Will I?"

Yeah. No. Not ready to throw that out there all casually for quite awhile.

So, once again, Retromama's a gal who pretty much gets what she wants when she goes after it. Although, every now and then she gets far more than she bargained for...

Today, she's grateful for all it turned out to be... But don't ask her where they stand because that's a big fat "I don't know."

She's just taking things as they come... Both literally and figuratively, apparently.

Grief is a pain in your chest.

2010-06-09T20:14:00.000-07:00

So, I broke up with Eric. Like, for real.

And that just fucking sucks.

I go back and forth between overwhelmingly crushed and royally pissed off.

I wish I could crawl into his BlackBerry and take back my last email. When I told him how sad and mad I am. Because I felt better when I was writing it out, but I probably shouldn't have hit "send".

Oops.

I was so strong for almost the whole day, too.

I adore that I have amazing friends who say the hard shit. V's words from last week keep running through my head, "You're feeling this way because you know he's not "the one" and you're settling... That's okay, but that's what it is."

And I can't help but think that he WILL BE the one. But, like, in a year or something.

And I knew that almost from the beginning.

I'm going to try not to beat myself up too much over this one. He brought me much joy for awhile. It just couldn't be sustained in its present state.

Time heals.

I just kinda wish we could fast-forward through the crying bits.

Twelve.

2010-06-06T19:10:00.000-07:00

Twelve years ago, today, I married my best friend.

One year ago, today, I went out and celebrated a day I dubbed the "anti-versary". Dinner and drinks with the girls and then a play. Leon would kiss my shoulder that night and I would ponder that. Which led to what happened next...

Today, The Ex is still probably my best friend. We still laugh together. He still completely understands me. He knows all of my history. (Well, the history prior to the last couple of years. Haha.)

But we're not celebrating this day. And maybe we won't have a 13th. Maybe this will be the year we actually get divorced. Who knows?

And maybe it's just because I'm exhausted and sunburned, but I'm feeling kind of sad about this. I made it through most of today without even thinking about it. But I'm thinking about it now.

::shrug::

Long Weekend...

2010-05-31T19:08:00.001-07:00

Sometimes these long weekends turn out to be too long...

Like this one.

The kidlet and I spent a beautiful day with friends on Saturday. And decided to go on a brittle hunt on Sunday. Since it was a gorgeous day and he hadn't seen his dad, we invited his dad to go with us. So, Sunday ended up being a family day.

Which kind of throws me into all kinds of turmoil all over again. Especially when he speaks cryptically and makes me think that he spent the night with someone two nights earlier.

I hated that it bothered me. I know I'm a total hypocrite. I've made no secret of Eric. The Ex knows I'd spent an amazing weekend away with him just last weekend. But I didn't like those little licks of jealousy that were lapping at my brain.

And we got along so well, and our son just totally thrived in those hours that he got to spend with both of his parents...

It's so confusing sometimes to be such good friends with him. And here he is, being so freaking supportive of this major thing I've undertaken... Something he would not have been during our marriage.

So, then there was the phone call... With me crying... And him saying the words that I've longed to hear for so long... The words that Eric won't say.

It's all very confusing.

Which led to a sleepless night.

So, of course, after a sleepless night, I wasn't quite in the right mood for today.

I had a wonderful time with wonderful friends. And those trusted friends made me realize I needed to make a few changes. Which I tried to do in a kind way.

Unfortunately, however, apparently, you have to bring drama to your world so that you can eliminate it. I just really didn't feel like bringing it today. And I accidentally did.

At least Ari has blocked me. And Andy came riding to her rescue on his white horse. I'm so disappointed in him. That he could actually accuse me of doing this because of him and Ari? Has that guy MET me?!? Ugh. Why on earth would I drag him into the ridiculousness that his girlfriend has created? Why would I have EVER told him that what is happening now between me and Ari started long before he ever entered the picture? Oh, I know. Because I never brought that kind of stuff to him. And had I known he'd been interested in her before they began, I might have told him. But he didn't. So, I didn't. It was too late.

I'm honestly so fucking over them.

Just as I'm so fucking over Cinderella. Why can't she just stay the fuck away from me and from mine? I hate that I have to push people I've cared about away just so that they don't feel like they're stuck in the middle.

But I'll do what I have to do. I need to continue to put my child first. And a happy and drama-free mommy is a far better mommy to him than the one who continues to hear little whispers about her opening her fucking mouth all over again.

I know she's reading this now. So, I'll give her this: GO AWAY!!! Do not EVER let my name cross your lips. AT ALL. You have NO reason to ever speak my name. NONE. And you have nobody to blame but YOU.

I'm just so fucking exhausted. And this is such a huge week. This thing that is coming... That I've been planning for nearly (more than?) a year... It's days away.

And I keep going back and forth on it. And there's no backing out now. Not that there ever was. I'm going through with it. And it's going to be amazing. And scary. And fun. And exciting. And a little bit crazy.

I just need to get my head back in the game. Process everything that has been thrown my way in the last two days...

I just need some Peace. And maybe a hug.

Limbo.

2010-05-19T20:09:00.000-07:00

I need to write so badly it hurts.

But I'm talking about it. And that's good, I suppose.

My work bff stares at me like I'm off my rocker. Wonders why I'm so matter-of-fact about this. She knows I'll be wrecked when it's done. Reminded me that her shoulder will be there when I'm ready to need it.

This evening, the numbness started to wear off a bit. And there's a lump in my throat and my eyes ache with unshed tears...

But I'm walking the walk.

When I say that I love my son the most out of anything, I absolutely mean it. So much so that I'm going to do the hard thing. The thing that will make me unhappy. But it's the right thing. And I will be happy again... Just... Later.

Yes, I'm willing to put my happiness on hold. And I know what I'm risking.

And I'm still getting my priorities in order. And putting off this thing because that's the right thing to do.

Huh. Being patient. Weird.

One Year.

2010-05-08T20:33:00.001-07:00

One year ago this weekend.

The weekend that changed everything.

The night before Mother's Day, I wrote two emails.

One to Cinderella. Asking her to please respect me and stop talking about me. To stop reading my blog. To stop contacting me.

She has respected none of that. My last blog entry was full of lies. I was setting the tone to start making stuff up to draw her out. To force her to admit that our "mutual friend" is named Blogger.

But then I decided that she simply doesn't matter enough.

The other to the one who was about to make what I thought was a huge mistake.

The next morning dawned, and the kidlet and I prepared for Ari's arrival. I would be cooking up breakfast and we would be celebrating together. Two kids in the "We have Dead Jewish Mothers Club".

And there I was all zen and happy to share that special day with her.

And she brought drama to my home.

I remember being glad to see her go.

This year has been different.

This weekend, I truly believe that I have been in a place where I am just glad. Glad to be the mom to the kidlet that I am. Things have been pretty amazing in this last year.

I haven't been dreading tomorrow like I have for the past several years.

Yeah, okay, I don't have a mom anymore, and that's sad, but I'm truly, truly grateful for my son.

Yeah, okay, that last pregnancy ended in a miscarriage and that was pretty traumatic. But I'm truly, truly grateful for my son.

And, yeah, okay. I used to spend Mother's Day with my mother-in-law and my husband's family. And while I did ask the Ex if we could all do lunch together tomorrow, he preferred not to. And that sucks even more when the kidlet asks why he doesn't get to see his grandma tomorrow.

This evening as we walked to the ice cream shop, he said, "I guess Grandma doesn't know the secret." I asked what to which secret he was referring."

"That even though we're not married anymore, we can still love each other and be a family."

That's the secret. The one *I* taught him.

And while it is kinda sad that his grandparents (and aunt and uncle and cousins, I suppose!) don't know that secret, I'm so glad that my little boy DOES.

And I hope that on the eve of this day when we are to celebrate mothers, that maybe... Just maybe... Someone new will learn that secret.

And that even though there are those who will be spending their first Mother's Day thinking about a mom they lost this year, I hope that they can find some joy in it.

Me? I'll be grateful for the day I'll get to spend with that amazing little man.

And I'll be sending some extra Light and Love to those who will need it. Especially my favorite soldier who lost his mom earlier this year. And even to Ari. While I'm glad not to spend time with her tomorrow, I'll never forget how she picked me up off of that dirty sidewalk two years ago. After sitting with me, first.

29.

2010-04-29T17:25:00.000-07:00

Today's been a fairly amazing day.

Tons of attention (mostly even attention I wanted!).

Flowers at work from the beau... Flowers from AVG and a Mrs. Field's cookie with Happy Birthday on it from LR...

Oh, and flowers from an admirer. Shall we call him Phillip? A little awkward, I suppose. Specially since the flowers he sent were the same kind as (but prettier than!) the ones that Eric sent.

::awkward silence::

Ari and I are done, apparently. I can't quite wrap my mind around the fact that she turned out to be an utter bitch. I had thought maybe she was insensitive. Maybe clueless. But cruel? Didn't know she had it in her.

I'm embarrassed that she was ever in my inner circle.

::shrugging that one off::

Not much time to write.

Taking the kidlet to meet some of my nearest and dearest for dinner and dessert. The Ex is coming. Eric's not thrilled about that. He can get over it.

Take another little piece of my heart...

2010-04-18T11:41:00.001-07:00

After such an amazing trip, it was hard to come back to reality.

Eric eased that transition, however, by treating me to an amazing day before I had to go back to work.

We lingered over brunch and then went for a walk. We spent hours in these eclectic little shops in a nearby town. We got to wander around, pausing to touch or kiss each other.

I fell in love with a purse in one of the shops we visited. This purse cost about 5 times what I've ever paid for a purse. (What? Doesn't everybody buy purses at the Fair or at the discount shoe stores?) I asked for Eric's opinion. And walked around the store with the purse over my shoulder. I'd needed a new purse for about two months, but hadn't anticipated buying one that day. I had just gotten back from a rather pricey vacation, and didn't know if I could justify spending that much on that particular day. Eric never gave me his opinion. The fabulous man who worked at the shop told me to go look in the full-length mirror in the next room. That clinched it. The purse would be mine.

Later, when pressed, Eric admitted that he would have told me to hold off on the purse since I'd just gotten back from that trip. I appreciated that he allowed me to make that choice completely independently of him. And I'm proud of my purchase. Even my therapist told me a few days later that it's a "bitchin' purse".

::grin::

I was somewhat out-of-touch with most people while I was away. Eric and I still emailed fairly regularly and managed one late-night phone call. TF and I texted a few times. I updated my facebook several times but didn't respond too regularly to comments and whatnot. Well, until I was with Z. Because that was just entertaining. ;)

Ari texted me several times while I was gone. Said she wanted to see me when I got back. I knew I'd be spending the day with Eric, but I was happy to try to connect for a bit. Her insistence about seeing me so soon made me think she had a present for me. Maybe because when I find a perfect little something for a friend, I have a hard time holding onto it until the next "occasion". In fact, that Sunday, I found a little piece of perfection that I knew NOF needed that day. I called her and we dropped by that night so that I could give it to her.

Silly me.

Ari had something for me. But it was news. And it certainly wasn't a gift.

Perhaps you remember this guy? The "one of the few who could possibly understand what I was feeling made himself available for my sobbing phone call"? Yeah, that guy.

A dear, dear friend of mine. The one who told me I was overdue for being selfish... And how that set me off on the path of doing the first selfish thing I'd ever done... And everything that came after put me here.

There had been a brief interlude in another city when he thought I wanted something to happen with him. And, not wanting to strike a blow to his ego (which is a bit bigger than I'm a fan of), I didn't tell him that he saw signals that weren't there. Because I came to a conclusion a long time ago. This man's friendship means way too much to even attempt anything physical. I have learned the hard way that friendships don't survive kissing and this one means way too much. The one with Leon didn't matter half as much as this one. I was angry after that interlude when he didn't talk to me for nearly two months. And the next time I heard from him was when he was crying over another girl. And I was okay with that. This is a man with whom I can grieve. Like, really and truly grieve. And that's not something I take lightly. This friendship is sacred.

And while I introduced him to HRT and Ari, it was only because they were there. Not because I wanted to share him with either of them. This is a friendship that I have always felt was truly mine. For every major thing that has happened in my world in the last 3 1/2 years, for every pivotal event or revelation, this man has been somehow tied into it.

This man is someone with whom I have shared emotional intimacies. This man has seen me far more naked than if we had ever had sex. He's seen me raw and bleeding. And I've seen the same of him.

Ari's news?

They had begun an online flirtation in the previous five days. And she stood there, trembling before me and Eric, waiting for me to hug her and be as thrilled and giddy as she is.

And I simply couldn't do it.

Because at the moment she told me that they were talking, I felt a piece of me ripped away. The level of intimacy that I once shared with him is gone. He has been sharing intimacies with one of my closer friends. Which means I never will again with him.

I was absolutely devastated.

And when we walked into the olive oil shop for some tasting, Ari stepped out for a few minutes, and I cried to Eric. And he was great. Never asked me if my feelings were anything more than friendship, which I appreciated. He just listened and offered some feedback, all of which was welcomed.

Later, the three of us got something to drink at a table that faced a sidewalk. It took Ari nearly 30 minutes before asking me if I was okay with her news. And I told her I wasn't. It killed me to see her texting him, knowing that they had already discussed me. And how to tell me. And who should tell me.

Ugh.

The following evening, thanks to a well-timed skype session, I gave them my blessing. The fact of the matter is that I do love them both. They do deserve a shot at happiness.

But, yes, I'm grieving. And the only person who seems to truly understand my point of view is, shockingly (or perhaps not so shockingly?), the Ex.

Even Eric says "never say never" and uses US as his example.

But I know this with every fiber of my being... My friendship with him will never be the same. I will never again call him to cry. About anything. That aspect of our friendship is over.

And I must say that in these early days of grieving... Seeing them all over each other's facebook profiles kind of disgusts me. I wish it didn't hurt so badly. But it really, really, really does.

So, I'm embracing this grief. I will move through it in Real Time and I will move on.

But I know there will be times when I will miss our talks. Because they were torn from me with no warning. He tried to placate me with "you know I can keep a secret." But that's so not the point.

And if the truth is told? I'm really kind of pissed off at her. Because I've been in her position. With her, as a matter of fact. And I did not behave the way she has.

I will come to be happy for her. And time will heal these wounds. But they will leave a scar.

I guess he and I were simply a longer Season.

Saying it.

2010-04-05T20:40:00.000-07:00

Remember when I took the kidlet on a trip over Thanksgiving? It was a driving trip out-of-state. And I was pretty terrified going into it. TF had planned the whole thing and then had to back out a few weeks in advance. And I was all freaked out over going on my own.

Yeah.

Tomorrow afternoon, we leave for a trip out-of-state.

And I've planned it. I booked and paid for the plane tickets. I booked a rental car. I secured places to stay with dear friends for most of the nights we'll be gone. I've booked awesome activities for while we're gone.

And, of course, Eric generously offered me hotel points so that we could stay in a hotel on the night we arrive. And, shockingly, I accepted.

I have yet to pack. But I'm getting laundry done, so that's my excuse.

And I'm not scared. I've totally got this.

What a difference a few months makes. And what a difference pulling it off once makes.

I am a completely different person than the one I was at Thanksgiving.

I'm no longer crying over Leon. I've actually gotten to my grateful place about him.

I got to see CJ, hand him a copy of my book and thank him for being so influential during that time. I got to tell him to his face that I deserved better than the way he blew me off. And he looked me in the eye and said, "I know. And I'm so sorry." He explained what was happening in his world at that time (which, of course, had nothing to do with me) and I pretty much brought a ton of stuff to the surface for him. Threw some truths at him that he had yet to see. I was, apparently, his Reason.

And, I went there that night with Eric's blessing. Because Eric is great like that.

Eric read my blog a bit. And then stopped. Probably for the best. But he signed an email "YABE". "Your Assless Boyfriend, Eric." And I totally love that he is so great about it.

It's been hard for me to find time to write. This whole business of falling in love and having a grownup relationship when there are kids and Exes and whatnot involved... It's time-consuming. And it's beautiful and amazing and complicated and frustrating and wonderful.

This man encompasses everything that was on my lists. He kicks more ass in his corner of the world than I do in mine.

He really hears me. And he really sees me. And at 1:00 this morning, when I sobbed in his arms, he told me I was being ridiculous. But at 8:30, over coffee I'd made in the French Press, he admitted that I was absolutely not ridiculous.

We're still in the honeymoon phase. Ish.

Today when he emailed me and accidentally used "your" instead of "you're", I actually let it slide. Minutes later, he emailed me again apologizing and asking if I was going to break up with him. I love that he knows that is so huge to me.

We have different definitions of being "in love". And I'm trying to wrap my mind around that.

By my definition, I love him. I have since days after we first spoke. And even after that horrific first date, I knew I still would love him. That we would be great friends.

But, by my definition, I'm falling in love with him, too. And, by his? He's not there yet. And that's hard. But only sometimes. Because I know how he feels about me. I can see it in his phone calls and texts. In the way he listens and in the way he looks at me. In the way that he touches me. In the way that he won't let me turn away and hide my tears. He kind of sees through my tough chick act. And, shockingly, I'm okay with that.

Secure in the knowledge of what we have, I can go finish the laundry and get to packing for our trip.

I get to see my LLT in the morning. And then we're off. For another kickass trip that I can provide for my son because I left his dad. Who remains one of my very best friends.

Life is good.

Shameless Plug.

2010-03-18T21:38:00.001-07:00

Remember when I said I wrote a book?

It's out.

You can find it on Amazon.com. Just type my name in the Search box.

Eek!

Pretty girls cry and wipe their noses with their sleeves.

2010-03-07T10:05:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was a lovely morning... I blogged about having a beau... I was getting laundry done... Drinking coffee I'd made with my French Press... All was beautiful...

And then I got an email...

I have a PO Box at the UPS store down the street. The great thing about having a PO Box there is that my address looks like a real address. So, UPS will deliver there. And they can sign for stuff for me and I can pick it up at my convenience. I actually got the box way before I moved out of my marital home and started using the address then...

I remember laughing so hard when my gramma told me that Cinderella had told her "RetroMama sent me her new address!" And my gramma looked at her, blankly, thinking, "But she hasn't moved yet..." I had sent her a card or letter or something and it had a return address label. Which translated in her mind to "Ooh, I have inside information". I'm snorting with laughter all over again.

Anyway.

Whenever I get a package or a certified letter, the nice folks at the UPS store scan it to my box and I get an email, telling me that I have something to pick up... And they tell me who it's from. When the kidlet got a package from his grandparents, I remember how conscientious they were about making sure I knew it was a package for him (this was during the whole layoff season last year). The wonderful staff there has become friends to me and to the kidlet... They were there the day I got my RIF notice last year. They were there when I got laid off... And they rejoiced with me when I got my letter of re-hire.

On Friday, I got an email at lunchtime... The package with 5 Proof copies of my novel had arrived. I bounced through the rest of my afternoon, picked up the kidlet, and raced over there.... I told them what was in the box, but the kidlet had decided we would open it together at home... Chris, the nice kid (18? 19?) who works there made sure to tell me that I could open it at home, but I am under strict instructions to bring it back at some point so that they can see it. Of course I agreed.

So, yesterday... I'm having this amazing morning... And I get an email from the UPS store... I assumed that it was to let me know that one more copy of my book had arrived (it was shipped separately)... But then I did a double-take when I saw the sender...

It was the District.

I looked at the calendar... While the deadline for RIFs is still more than a week away, I started to get a little worried...

Still in my pajamas (what? It was only noon... ish.), I transferred laundry over and put away the clothes that had just come out of the dryer... I told myself I would shower and change, go hit the UPS store and then go pick up the kidlet from his dad's...

But this niggling sense of discomfort wouldn't leave....

So, I threw on running clothes and a beanie and left the apartment.

I thought about putting up a status change on FB, asking for some Light and Love, but I felt like I was making a big deal out of nothing... Surely, the District had some other thing they wanted to tell me via Certified letter... Maybe I was getting an award of some sort?

I was shaking by the time I got in my car... And pretty much hyperventilating as I drove over there... I thought about calling Eric, but I only had a few minutes in the car and just wanted to get there. Besides, he had his kids and I didn't want to be the hysterical girlfriend. I mean, we had only really officially established that we were together, like, the night before. I should wait at least a week before I pull that, right?

The parking lot was crowded. Saturdays are grocery shopping days, apparently... I was muttering "fuck!" under my breath as I circled the lot to find a spot. I shakily ran into the store. Chris was in the back. I stopped in my tracks and yelled, "Give me my letter!"

I went to my box and pulled out the sticker that I would need to sign... Oh, and the magazine I'd been waiting for. The one with the short article I had written. Yin and yang, dammit.

Chris brought me the letter and I didn't even look at him as I tore into it. By now, the tears were streaming down my face... My breath came out ragged... The envelope in shreds, I started reading... Tears blurred my vision...

And it wasn't a RIF.

I threw the letter down on the counter and backed away... Poor Chris was staring at me.... I pointed at it, and managed to get "It's not a layoff letter!" out... And then I stood in the middle of the store and sobbed... I dragged my sleeve across my face, trying to dry my tears, trying to keep the snot from running down my face...

Chris stood behind the counter and held his arms out toward me. I flew at him and wrapped my arms around his neck, apologizing for being such a spaz... And he just held me for a minute or two, as I raggedly sobbed into his shoulder.

Poor kid.

To cheer myself, I opened the package with the magazine and let him read it.

And then another customer came in. She looked at me sideways as Chris helped her with her mailing needs... I kept wiping my nose with my sleeve like the pretty girl that I am... I was still having trouble breathing.

I kept apologizing and babbling away... Chris was very sweet and understanding about it. Didn't rush me out or anything. I knew there was no way I could drive yet... It took me about ten minutes to pull it together.

Only then did I leave, with my letter and magazine in my hand... That's when I called Eric. And then updated the FB when I got his voicemail. He called me back a few minutes later and I regaled him with stories of hysterics and tears and snot in the UPS store.

And he laughed at me.

Hence, the blog.

You can thank Eric for this one.

Calling a Spade a Spade.

2010-03-06T12:00:00.001-08:00

So, I have a beau... I don't think I'm comfortable with the word "boyfriend". Although, I am completely okay with being his "girlfriend". I'll probably get used to "boyfriend". ::shrug::

This man is good to me. He's good FOR me. He brought me flowers and Thai food when I was sick. And cupcakes.

He said, last night, that we haven't even been on a real date yet.

And, yet... We're together.

And I told him what D and E said and what my Therapist said about how he should date other women and whatnot. Give himself more time. But this is what it is.

And, again... I'm not going to be afraid of loving... I shall be cautious about how enmeshed we become in one another's lives...

I shall sign another 12-month lease on my place... He told me he's ready to buy something, and I told him that while I would love to help him decorate, I don't want to be any part of the buying process. I don't want to even look at any of his prospects. He needs to do that on his own.

But when he offered me points so that I can stay in a hotel across the country with the kidlet? And followed through with three hotel options? I'll let him do that for me.

He told me he's afraid of hurting me... Because what happens if he realizes in six months that I was right and he should have taken more time? Because he's not over his ex. But I'm not really over mine. (Can anyone ever truly be "over" someone with whom s/he has created children?) Being where I am in my journey, I feel somewhat wise when it comes to this... And he talks it out with me... And I'm becoming a better listener... And it doesn't hurt me to hear him process through it. I'm all zen and shit about it.

I told him I'm not afraid of six months from now. And I'm really not. If it doesn't work out, I'll grieve that. But in the meantime, I will just enjoy this... Learning to love and be loved.

And, no, D... I have not had sex with him... Things got a little hot last night, but no... I'm not ready for that... Shocking, I know.

I giggled as I watched him walk away from my car last night... Thinking to myself, "I have a boyfriend, and he has no ass." But he's adorable. And he's mine. I shall continue to call him Eric. And, perhaps, boyfriend. But, beau, for sure...

Secrets and Lies

2010-03-01T17:30:00.000-08:00

I woke up feeling like shit this morning.

Slept most of the day until it was time for my appointment.

Eric, of course, offered to bring me soup, kleenex, anything I needed. I didn't feel quite ready for him to see me looking like something the cat dragged in, however...

And then I went to get the cancer removed. I got there early, and with the doctor ahead of schedule, I was done right about the time everybody started sending the Light and Love. Hee!

So, I called Eric. And asked if he was working from home and could I come over? I had a couple of things I needed to tell him. And, hell, I had just beat cancer, so I was feeling somewhat kickass. Even though I still looked like shit.

And I sat down and told him the big scary secrets. Like about the scars that HRT left. And that even though I'm becoming this honest person, I haven't always been so.

But I needed to tell him because I see this going somewhere and I wanted him to know now so that he still has a chance to get out if he chooses.

And after I told him the big scary things, he patted the couch next to him and I came over and snuggled up against him. And he told me to just never lie to him. I can agree to that.

And then I left to go hug the kidlet and I checked my phone.

I'd gotten an email in response to a voicemail I'd left last week.

For Leon.

Because last week, it hit me that I was grateful. I was grateful for his presence in my world when he was in it. That he was as good to me that he could have possibly been. He simply didn't have the capacity to be any better to me. But that didn't mean he ever meant to hurt me. And he was the right person to be in my world at that time. I'm grateful that he didn't sleep with me. I'm grateful that I got to learn about dating and stuff with someone who kept me (mostly) safe.

So, on the day that we might have done that thing together (but it would be raining. LMAO.), I picked up the phone and called. And said those things to his voicemail. Told him not to worry about calling me back. But that I just wanted to thank him.

Then I let it go...

And, actually, kind of forgot that I did it. Because it was so not a big deal. I just expressed my gratitude. It was on him how he decided to take it.

And, apparently, he took it well.

And he wrote me an email to tell me so. And it was lovely.

And then I went and hugged my son and texted a few of my girlfriends who knew those truths and understood what a big deal it is that I told Eric.

And I'm just feeling utterly exhausted and completely loved.

So, even sick and unshowered and doctor's office scented, I'm happy.

Lighter.

I told the big scary things and he hasn't run away.

And the Spree feels soothing on my sore throat.

:)

Now I get to choose between Quality and Quality.

2010-02-27T12:42:00.001-08:00

Have you missed me?

I have.

Um, remember this? The list?

I just re-read it.

And, um...

So far, Eric is all of that. I don't know how he is in bed. Not that he didn't offer to let me find out... The first time we met.

Let me backtrack.

I was supposed to flee the state for Valentines Day weekend. And my friend ended up getting sick, so there I was... Alone... For the entire weekend. With no plans. Not a good place for me to be at that time.

It ended up being a lovely weekend. I spoke to Brendan while he was on a long drive... For, like, two hours. He even brought me into the convenience store while he stocked up on candy and water. I told him to get Spree, but that doesn't seem to be found very easily lately.

Anyway.

The next day, something happened that I wasn't clear about... And it turned out the ultrarunner that I'd been interested in last year knew what had happened... And we got to texting... And then I was sitting there reflecting... About how pivotal he was in my world. How he was a part of that Mother's Day weekend last year that changed everything... And I had never thanked him.

So, I did.

And we ended up meeting for dinner. And it was awesome. He promised to call the next day.

But I woke up thinking about Brendan.... Hoping he would call me on his way home. And perhaps we could meet. Because he pretty much has to drive through my town to get home. We texted that morning and he promised to call me on his way home.

And then the ultrarunner didn't call. I didn't expect the ultrarunner to call (nor did I particularly care. Except that I hadn't asked him to call. He simply volunteered when we'd said goodnight the night before). But I did expect Brendan to call.

In the meantime, someone contacted me through the dating website... And I found myself intrigued...

He'd posted what he's looking for in a woman...

What I look for in a woman: cute, funny, smart, sassy, honest, kind, open minded, intellectual curiosity, socially conscious, playful, affectionate, mischievous, down to earth, wine tasting fan, responsible, professional, independent, outdoorsy, reader, fan of the arts, single, good communication skills, movie lover, passionate, sensual, romantic, friend, adventurous, social

Um, hi? Has he been reading my blog?

We wrote back and forth a few times that day. I was totally entertained, but still had my hopes sky-high for Brendan. But then he didn't call.

So, there I was... Valentine's Day. I'd gotten to see my son for maybe an hour or two, but he wasn't with me that night. And I missed him. And then the boy I liked disappointed me. By breaking a promise.

So, when I opened a bottle of Cabernet that night and sat on the couch to feel sorry for myself, the tears came... And that's when the phone rang.

It was Brendan.

I quickly dried my tears and was pleasant on the phone. He wanted to follow through with the phone call he'd promised, but he waited until he got home... Hmmm...

The next day, the emails with the new guy flew fast and furiously... And then Brendan called that night. A spur-of-the-moment thing. And when we hung up, I got an email from the new guy... Asking me if we could talk. He wanted to "match the voice to the prose"... And I was excited to talk to him. I had been very much enjoying his emails. He's clever and funny... Asked me lots of really good questions...

We were on the phone til midnight.

And I liked him. I really liked him.

Which kind of confused me about how I felt about Brendan. I'd been putting in a lot of effort with him. Because he was worth it. I'd been calling him "my future husband, but he doesn't know it yet" for two months. Completely convinced that it was just a matter of time until he decided not to be afraid of our connection and to decide that we would be great.

And then Brendan didn't call the day he said he would. Again. Ugh.

So, then the new guy and I decided we could meet. His travel plans for work changed and could I meet him for lunch near my work? I couldn't, but we ended up meeting at my favorite coffee shop that afternoon.

And after four days of amazing phone calls and emails, we were both pretty excited.

I still spoke to Brendan on the way to work that morning. Didn't mention anything about the new guy (although I think he had stepped up the contact when I did mention I'd been on a date that weekend), but we had a great conversation. Totally connected. Again.

But I was anticipating meeting the new guy that afternoon. My body was humming with tension and excitement.

D talked me down while I was driving there... Told me to breathe and shit. Reminded me that I had been thinking Brendan was "the one" and how could I be so into someone else in such a short period of time?

And I talked it out. About how Brendan is actively working towards something in his work. And I love listening to him talk about it. But he says things about how he wants to be a man of his word. And yet... He hasn't been that with me. How many times does he get to promise he'll call at a particular time or on a particular day and then not and then I blow it off? I don't stand for that in others, why do I with him? Fears shmears. I was on my way to meet someone who absolutely had been showing me that he is interested in me.

And there he was.

And he gave me an amazing gift... Something beautiful and perfect for me.

And I was so completely not attracted to him.

Fuck.

But I stayed. And drank dirty chai. And got to know each other further. Ish.

And then he asked, "Do you want to get out of here?"

And I asked, warily, "And go where?"

"Back to my place," he replied.

"No," I said, shaking my head. "I don't."

We went for a walk instead. And I couldn't find the words to tell this guy that I totally adored him, but was completely not attracted to him and could we just be really good friends?

But I still kissed him. Hoping I would feel something. But I didn't.

Within moments of driving away, he was texting me and emailing me. Apologizing for what he'd asked.

I told him I needed time to process and no, I wouldn't see him before he left town for work. But that I would talk to him when he got back...

We emailed for a couple of days... I called Brendan and asked him to meet me for dirty chai (he'd never tried it) that weekend. And he did.

And, again, we had a great time together. He told me his birthday was coming up the following week. And I called him out on how he tells me he'll call on a particular day and then doesn't. And that it's not okay. And he said he wouldn't do that anymore.

And I knew that the new guy had a date with someone else that night. I found myself wondering how it had gone. And I asked him. Because I wanted to be friends with him, right?

I went to bed and woke up to his response. He'd joked that he'd slept with her. And I didn't like that I felt a twinge of something when I read that. I was grateful that the next thing I read was that he'd been joking. But I was confused that I felt relieved.

Why did I care? I wasn't attracted to him. He can fuck whomever he chooses.

But I really, really liked him. And I must admit that I really, really appreciated that he pretty much really liked me. (He swore he wasn't in love with me. But that he was "smitten".)

And then something shifted. He went away for work. And it was like I was with him on that trip. He emailed often and texted and called me from hundreds of miles away. And he asked the greatest questions... Like about who my best friend is. And why was she my best friend? And I've been brutally honest with him, "Yes, if I had to choose today, I would say that we would be just friends... But I'm open to seeing you again... When we're not so nervous..."

And I love what he does for a living. It's something I admire. And he is really good at it. And I love that I'm never left wondering if he's thinking about me... Because he lets me know. And I have come to realize that I require that from someone I'm dating. I require daily contact. Even if it's just a text or something quick on a busy day. But that's not negotiable.

But I'd found Spree the day after I'd seen Brendan. And I bought it for him for his birthday. And I found a few other bits of perfection that he would totally love.

And on his birthday, I called him on my way to work. I got his voicemail, but left an adorable message.

I realized I was keeping my weekend free, hoping I would see him.

But then the new guy asked if I was around, and I found that I had decided I would see him on Friday night. I would wait til his kids went to bed and go see him. And we would keep it casual, and I would see how I felt about him when I was in his space. I felt like I wanted to be in control. And, I admit that I sensed that he would make himself available if I decided I wanted to see him. I made it very clear that he was not to ask me to have sex with him. Haha.

But then I didn't even hear from Brendan. I finally texted to ask if he'd gotten my voicemail. And he texted me right back and asked if he could call me Friday morning. After crying to TF, I responded adorably that he could (because it would be FRIDAY!! LOL.). She helped me decide that I wouldn't give him the other small gifts I'd purchased. But I could give him the card and the two rolls of Spree. Because that's small and cute.

I woke up Friday morning to an email sent from an airport from the new guy.

And Brendan didn't call.

And I found myself re-reading the Leon blogs. And seeing some major similarities.

So, I decided I would eat the Spree.

Fuck Brendan. I'm done.

And then I saw the new guy.

Eric.

And I was so much more comfortable with him. He served me wine (a zinfandel in a real zinfandel glass) and we just talked... And he told me that he never talks about his work. He just tells people he does government work. But he told me. And I find it utterly fascinating. And he talked about a celebration that is a few months away. And I found myself wanting to be a part of that. And then he told me he wants me to be a part of it. He'd asked me to bring my iPod because he wanted to hear what music I listen to. And I did. (This is pretty rare for me, actually, for some reason...)

And he asked me more questions and I told him about different friends and different relationships... I told him about how I'd been in a band several years ago and how much I miss it... He says I'm like an onion... That he wants to peel back the layers of me and that he is fascinated by the person I am... That there are so many facets to me.

And he's not running away, screaming. He doesn't seem to be intimidated by the gigantic personality that is RetroMama.

And then he told me he wanted to kiss me. And I let him.

And this time, I felt something. It was lovely.

And we just sat and held hands and hugged and talked and it was beautiful.

I got home at 1:30 in the morning... And I ate a red Spree.

Thing2

2010-02-04T19:25:00.000-08:00

"...And I call them Thing One and Thing Two.
These Things will not bite you.
They want to have fun."
Then, out of the box Came Thing Two and Thing One!

I realized a couple of days ago that my skin cancer's back. I thought I might be mistaken, so I didn't say anything. But this morning, I was sure of it. So, I called the dermatologist and made an appointment for next month to have it checked out and removed.

And I'm so not freaking out. It's just a little SomeThing. Way smaller than last time. So, this one is Thing2.

But I found myself wanting to talk about it. And I didn't want anyone who loves me to freak out. Enter CJ. I had an appointment in his town this afternoon so I texted him and asked him if he was willing to meet me... "no awkwardness or expectations. just food." He actually responded that he couldn't tonight, but would love to another time. Was I available next week? I told him I wouldn't be in his town next week. Haha.

The only reason why I wanted to talk to him is that he doesn't exactly matter, you know?

But then I did tell a few friends. And reminded them that I am NOT freaking out. I'm not.

I am getting my zen back. I yoga'ed this morning for a bit before work. And had an awesome day with my kids. Answered my classroom phone and had a colleague say, "You sound so happy!" Yes, this on the day I admit I have cancer again. 'cause that's how I roll.

But then this evening... After a wonderful chat with my dad... Where I filled him in on all things RetroMama. Well, all things regarding dating. He was surprised I wasn't seeing Clark anymore. I didn't go into detail. Haha.

But it just kind of got me thinking... I ran into 23 last night. And he was so sweet. Asked how I was doing. Hugged me. And I realized that this kid totally thinks he's in love with me. And he's pining and shit. And that actually really bothers me. I never meant for that to happen. And last night when I was exhausted after my double-platelet donation, I found myself thinking about him as I drifted off to sleep... And how he probably wanted to stay with me those nights... And I never even allowed myself to consider that.

Then tonight, I was joking with an 18-year-old who works at a place I frequent. I was about to give him my number (we're going to be in the same place at some point this weekend and he wanted to make sure I would be able to find him) when this other customer kind of teased me about giving out my number to an 18-year-old. So I came back with my usual "they have to be old enough to at least sit at the bar with me," and he said I was being "cold". I said, "What? I have no problem with younger as long as they're at least 21. I have to draw the line somewhere." It was all funny and we all went on our way.

But then I came home. And I'm totally PMSing. Which gets me all sad and shit. (And there are no more brownies in the house. WTF was I thinking??!!??)

So, I find myself thinking about 23. (Shut up, you guys. You know who you are.)

And how that first time he came over, I was really struck by his maturity. This kid grew up out of necessity and is really responsible and has a grownup job in a grownup world. And he totally supports his younger siblings. At 23. Shit. I was married, but going to school full-time at his age.

But I wanted him to stop talking because that's not what he was there for, dammit.

And maybe it's because this week is the anniversary of the first time we met (ish). But I find myself remembering all of our interactions that came before. And that I liked him. He wasn't just a toy. But I shut off that other part because that was the deal we struck that day.

And I feel like I have to stick to that. And until yesterday, I thought that all he wanted was sex. But I think there's something more there. But we fucked it up already, right?

Crap.

I should not be allowed technology or to be out of the house at this time of the month. This was always when I broke up with Leon. Okay, I'm totally laughing now.

But my point is that I'm in a slightly vulnerable place right now. I find myself really wanting to make a connection with someone. No, not just anyone.

But tonight? When I spoke to my little boy and I know I have to tell him when I see him tomorrow that it's back (I have mad skillz at not freaking my kid out about stuff like that), I hung up the phone feeling so incredibly lonely.

I just really want a hug.

Why, yes, I am in junior high...

2010-01-30T17:11:00.000-08:00

I've been asked to update.

It's been an absolutely amazing week.

I have been kicking ass and taking names. I wrote an article. The night before the deadline. And it's going to be published. Holy shit.

I wrote a letter to someone I owed an apology and an explanation. And it was well-received. She even apologized to me, too!

I was in the middle of planning a fun night with E and Wendy (and a fun afternoon with D!) when I got a phone call... And it was a dear friend whose mother had just died... And suddenly, I was trying to maneuver a trip halfway across the country with a day's notice. The Ex was totally supportive and such, but it meant a lot of plan changes. No fun night with E and Wendy. I'd have to bail on the brilliant plan we'd hatched for me to win Brendan over. Sub plans, etc.

But I would have done it. Because I'm that kind of friend.

But hearing about his mother's passing brought my own mother's passing back to the surface. And I was in a fragile place when Brendan called me.

I'd been planning to be the awesome chick and there I was, completely spaz-tastic.

Oy.

But he called me later and when I told him about the beautiful way that my friend's mom had died, he told me about how his own mom had been there at her mother's side when she'd died. And he told me how she'd told her it was okay to let go. And that she was there, holding her hand, when she'd taken her last breath.

And tears streamed down my face. I was trying to stifle the sobs because I didn't want him to know I was crying.

And then I said, "I did the same thing for my mom."

I don't think he had known my mom is dead.

::awkward silence::

But it wasn't awkward.

It was amazing.

And we had this great conversation. Brendan likes me. He really likes me. And he gets me. And he appreciates all that is me. In a way that no man I've been close to has been able to.

And then he told me he's dating someone.

Fuck.

They've been seeing each other for a few weeks (which is why he stopped writing to me after the new year).

And I was BUMMED. And, stupidly, I told him that. Shit.

I realized later (thank you, CF!) that I was really crying over the whole dead-mommy thing and not the boy. But still.

I remember how in the past, I've always stepped back when it came to other people's relationships. I gave up a friendship that really mattered to me last summer, remember? I've allowed myself to let go of something because someone else was there first.

But this time it's different.

It's not like they're in a relationship. It's not like he told me he can't see me because he's with her. He told me over and over again how much he wants me in his world. How much he likes me.

And by the time I got to D and E's house, my resolve was back.

All's fair in Love and War, right?

If they're "meant to be", they will be. And if they're not, well then I know I didn't just roll over and let go of something that could really matter.

I didn't hear back from him after an email on Wednesday. And we were still up in the air about whether or not we'd see each other tomorrow.

I planned to email him on Friday so that I would know how much wine I could drink tonight. (It makes sense in my head)

So, there I was at 8:00 in the morning in my classroom yesterday. I had 10 students in my room, hanging out, helping me with a few things. I was frantically trying to put together a bulletin board for the office that I'd been told that morning needed to go up that day.

And then my phone rang.

And I could see from the caller ID that it was Brendan. I couldn't NOT answer it!

He had decided to call me spur-of-the-moment just to tell me that he was thinking about me. He was listening to something in the car on his way to work and it made him think about the gratitude thing I've got going on... So, he decided to call me and tell me that.

It was all I could do not to cry and laugh and jump up and down while I was on the phone with him. One of my students was staring at me and I was totally doing the happy dance.

I attempted to keep my cool while we were still on the phone, but the moment we hung up, I raced up and down the rows of my classroom and laughed and jumped up and down.

And it totally made my entire day. Every one of my students had an awesome day because I was in that great of a mood.

And I got all of my stuff done and then had a great night with my son and our friends and the Ex.

And Brendan did get back to me today about tomorrow. He can't go. Which is fine. I may have a date with someone else I just started talking to... (What? I don't mind being the kettle!!!)

So, I will enjoy a Wine and Secrets night with NOF and V this evening... And I shall sleep in tomorrow... And I'll see Brendan next week. After I go out on a date with someone else.

:D