Thanks for the Clarity.

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.

Just give me something to believe....

...'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.

A stroke of inspiration...

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.

The Waiting Game

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.

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.

Timing is Everything.

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.

RetroMama Bear

(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.