Smile if any of this makes you think of me, because you are missed.
Looking into your eyes and just smiling.
Holding your hand.
Being hugged.
Hearing my son's laugh. (And in a month my daughters too).
Impromptu bottles of wine and tarot readings.
Starlite Happy Hour, on a Thursday after work, with Elvis dip and mozzarella sticks.
Sudden calls, of "I'm in town! What are you doing?"
Going to opening night of a movie we've all been anxious to see.
The Incarnations of Immortality-You know who you are.
Movie night! With connections of actors, directors, writers quiz.
Oscar Night! With check list to see who guessed the most correctly.
Power watching a new TV series with friends.
Running into you at the craziest places and still smiling at each other.
Making Love. Not sex.
Rock concerts with you.
Amusement parks, both sober and stoned.
Gaming with the Incarnations.
Gaming with my kids.
Long drives rocking out to tunes, both sober and stoned.
Trivia night.
Pat concerts.
The shed.
Holding Court at Yesterdaze, never sober.
Singing at Top Shots on a Tuesday.
Oktoberfest in La Crosse.
Meeting someone new and feeling that click of recognition.
The mountains, fires and long talks.
The ocean, and long walks.
Making proper sized bon fires. Meaning dangerously huge.
My parents advice and love.
Sunset over Pikes Peak.
Sunset at the top of Griffith Park Observatory.
Sunset at the bluffs in La Crosse.
Looking forward to a new book in a series I have not read before.
Being able to eat anything I want and not gain weight.
My body before kids.
Time to do everything. Youth has time, Age has none.
Sunday, May 31, 2015
Sunday, May 24, 2015
A Line Drawn
This week has been a lot of thoughtful, honest, and much needed communication between me and Mr. H. I know, I know. You’re thinking….STOP…..RUN. Well, so is he, so, you have company. But the thing is, I try. And I can’t. He tries too. And he can’t. So the line drawn will remain until a time when he is able to be with me. Until then we concentrate on a long and honest friendship. Which is a lot better than the rest of the A-Team got.
I just can’t abandon a friend that has been through so much with me, and I with him. Someone who deeply cares about my life and I about his. I promised myself years ago that I would stop if it became too painful. And moments have come when I almost did, but I could never sever the link completely and neither could he.
My mom used to say there was a fine line between love and hate. And lately I’ve been using that line as a jumprope, hopping back and forth between loving him and hating him for his decisions on his life. That is absurd of me, but its all related to ego. So once I swallow that down, I find what is left is the love, and love is the only thing worth fighting for. It’s so hard to find. Lust, easy. Even attraction is a daily occurrence in a city this large. But finding someone that I share so much with, so easily. And I’m not just talking about my day, but very private things. Emotions and situations that I can’t talk about, but I can write about. Sometimes they appear here in this blog, and sometimes this blog has been my only outlet.
So the line drawn stays and I stay single, not waiting, just watching. Watching to see who comes down my street. Being open minded. Taking a chance, and putting myself out there, but secretly hoping it will be him.
cheers
I just can’t abandon a friend that has been through so much with me, and I with him. Someone who deeply cares about my life and I about his. I promised myself years ago that I would stop if it became too painful. And moments have come when I almost did, but I could never sever the link completely and neither could he.
My mom used to say there was a fine line between love and hate. And lately I’ve been using that line as a jumprope, hopping back and forth between loving him and hating him for his decisions on his life. That is absurd of me, but its all related to ego. So once I swallow that down, I find what is left is the love, and love is the only thing worth fighting for. It’s so hard to find. Lust, easy. Even attraction is a daily occurrence in a city this large. But finding someone that I share so much with, so easily. And I’m not just talking about my day, but very private things. Emotions and situations that I can’t talk about, but I can write about. Sometimes they appear here in this blog, and sometimes this blog has been my only outlet.
So the line drawn stays and I stay single, not waiting, just watching. Watching to see who comes down my street. Being open minded. Taking a chance, and putting myself out there, but secretly hoping it will be him.
cheers
Sunday, May 17, 2015
What’s The Difference Between a Hooker and a Mistress?
So the wool covering my eyes has been lifted in regards to Mr. Hopeful. My fantasy, my rose colored glasses, are smashed. For real, I actually broke them, accidentally in my back pack, but I consider it a sign. The silver tongued (and boy I’m gonna miss that tongue) devil, the visions he created in my mind of a possible future. A future I longed for, are done. I ended them. I didn’t think it would ever happen, but I’ve started to believe what he’s been saying all along. I deserve better. Im angry at him for his words of ‘what if’ and ‘you never know’ and ‘I love you’, setting my writers imagination on overdrive.
I’ve been up late, tossing and turning, and making voo doo dolls. It helps. I have a lot of personal items of his, which is all one really needs for casting. Actually my sense of humor is not gone and that’s a really good sign. I was told my humor and my intelligence are what is saving me.
What’s the difference between a hooker and a mistress?
I’ll tell you later. You can read this far and it stops you from thinking for yourself. It’s an easy answer and one I’m fully prepared to hide for you in this paragraph. A hooker can retire, and mistress gets retired. Oh Snap! See what I did there? I’m my own worst enemy. Yes, I let him make me a mistress and as fun as it often was, it was the worst mistake of my life and I have no one but myself to blame.
Wait.
No.
Thats not true.
I can blame him for trying. For coming to me only when he was angry at her. That’s not a broken marriage, believe me I know. I never cheated on my second husband because I was angry at him. I cheated on him because I fell in love with someone else; and if I could fall in love with someone else, I knew our marriage was over. You see, Mr. H. said he loved me, and in my experience, meant he didn’t love her. But that’s not true, for if he didn’t love her, he’d leave here. Period. I can blame him for the excuses he gave himself so he could live with himself. And so he could look into the eyes of his wife and children. I can blame his hopeful visions of a possible future with me, the fantasies we both got pulled into too quickly and too wholeheartedly. The fantasies I really still want to believe in. Strong. I have to be strong. For us both.
I can also blame the fact I was broken when we met. He doesn’t either see this or believe it. You see abused children grow up to be broken adults, if they grow up. I was one of the lucky ones, I didn’t die or kill myself. I grew up. I repressed what I like to call the year of rapes. Because there was more than one and more than one rapist. One a family member, (thankfully not either parent) the other my mom’s boyfriend, at the time. At a much earlier time than this, I was 12, I was also was played with by a babysitter. (I was 5 then). And people wonder why a hot, intelligent, and funny woman like me is single and stayed single for most of her kids life, and had her mom be a live in nanny. Well….now you know. Wasn’t going to let anything like that happen to MY kids. Or anyone else’s, while we are on the subject of kids. I can blame those men. Because they broke me at a young age. Coached into silence, coached into believing I was a naughty girl, or I asked for it. Growing up believing being forced was normal. Believing chaos and abuse was happiness. Experiencing most men are cheating monsters. Not all but lets say 90%. My experience, my opinion. And remember, it comes from a broken person left alone to men herself. Actually like dying, we all die alone and the mending must be done alone as well. So that’s not meant to sound like pity. None of this is, but I’m sure some of you will read it that way. Unfortunate. It is meant to help those like me. Those who survived but have had a bit of a rough time finding anyone to be with, to share their lives with. Anyone to understand. My therapist said it would be a long time before I trusted men again since I stopped repressing. WOW what a year 2013 was. So full of triggers and repressed memories coming back. I cried a lot and it was all for me. And very necessary for the healing to start. And I know I’m almost through it. Maybe in another year or five I’ll be closer to the woman I thought I was. Know I can be.
You see, I wanted a man to prove to me I wasn’t naughty. I was worth being adored and loved, and no matter how much I pushed them away they wouldn’t give up on me. They’d realize I was wounded and the walls were up for survival. Of course I didn’t know for many years the reason why I was so angry and distrustful was because of the rapes. You see, I’d repressed the worst of it. And thought I was just stronger than the average woman (or man) that goes through this. And maybe in some ways I was. I am. but in others….the ways that sabotaged my relationships, the men I loved…I wasn’t. And one in particular, this one I just let go, I really thought he got me. But alas he also only saw a bitter, untrusting and manipulative woman he believes used him just for sex. But how could he have loved me when what he saw was so unattractive? He must be broken too.
Its another sign of how broken I am. I want to still be friends. An unbroken woman would have been gone at the beginning and never fell for any of this. Or would have been gone years ago. I was strong once. I was also called a bitch for being strong. But you know what, when I was a bitch, I made better life choices.
So here’s to being a survivor bitch. Happily making voo doo dolls, and looking up How Not To Date Your Ex, or On Being A Mistress. Hey, now there’s a snappy little title, I’m never going to find it. Looks like I have some writing to do.
I’ve been up late, tossing and turning, and making voo doo dolls. It helps. I have a lot of personal items of his, which is all one really needs for casting. Actually my sense of humor is not gone and that’s a really good sign. I was told my humor and my intelligence are what is saving me.
What’s the difference between a hooker and a mistress?
I’ll tell you later. You can read this far and it stops you from thinking for yourself. It’s an easy answer and one I’m fully prepared to hide for you in this paragraph. A hooker can retire, and mistress gets retired. Oh Snap! See what I did there? I’m my own worst enemy. Yes, I let him make me a mistress and as fun as it often was, it was the worst mistake of my life and I have no one but myself to blame.
Wait.
No.
Thats not true.
I can blame him for trying. For coming to me only when he was angry at her. That’s not a broken marriage, believe me I know. I never cheated on my second husband because I was angry at him. I cheated on him because I fell in love with someone else; and if I could fall in love with someone else, I knew our marriage was over. You see, Mr. H. said he loved me, and in my experience, meant he didn’t love her. But that’s not true, for if he didn’t love her, he’d leave here. Period. I can blame him for the excuses he gave himself so he could live with himself. And so he could look into the eyes of his wife and children. I can blame his hopeful visions of a possible future with me, the fantasies we both got pulled into too quickly and too wholeheartedly. The fantasies I really still want to believe in. Strong. I have to be strong. For us both.
I can also blame the fact I was broken when we met. He doesn’t either see this or believe it. You see abused children grow up to be broken adults, if they grow up. I was one of the lucky ones, I didn’t die or kill myself. I grew up. I repressed what I like to call the year of rapes. Because there was more than one and more than one rapist. One a family member, (thankfully not either parent) the other my mom’s boyfriend, at the time. At a much earlier time than this, I was 12, I was also was played with by a babysitter. (I was 5 then). And people wonder why a hot, intelligent, and funny woman like me is single and stayed single for most of her kids life, and had her mom be a live in nanny. Well….now you know. Wasn’t going to let anything like that happen to MY kids. Or anyone else’s, while we are on the subject of kids. I can blame those men. Because they broke me at a young age. Coached into silence, coached into believing I was a naughty girl, or I asked for it. Growing up believing being forced was normal. Believing chaos and abuse was happiness. Experiencing most men are cheating monsters. Not all but lets say 90%. My experience, my opinion. And remember, it comes from a broken person left alone to men herself. Actually like dying, we all die alone and the mending must be done alone as well. So that’s not meant to sound like pity. None of this is, but I’m sure some of you will read it that way. Unfortunate. It is meant to help those like me. Those who survived but have had a bit of a rough time finding anyone to be with, to share their lives with. Anyone to understand. My therapist said it would be a long time before I trusted men again since I stopped repressing. WOW what a year 2013 was. So full of triggers and repressed memories coming back. I cried a lot and it was all for me. And very necessary for the healing to start. And I know I’m almost through it. Maybe in another year or five I’ll be closer to the woman I thought I was. Know I can be.
You see, I wanted a man to prove to me I wasn’t naughty. I was worth being adored and loved, and no matter how much I pushed them away they wouldn’t give up on me. They’d realize I was wounded and the walls were up for survival. Of course I didn’t know for many years the reason why I was so angry and distrustful was because of the rapes. You see, I’d repressed the worst of it. And thought I was just stronger than the average woman (or man) that goes through this. And maybe in some ways I was. I am. but in others….the ways that sabotaged my relationships, the men I loved…I wasn’t. And one in particular, this one I just let go, I really thought he got me. But alas he also only saw a bitter, untrusting and manipulative woman he believes used him just for sex. But how could he have loved me when what he saw was so unattractive? He must be broken too.
Its another sign of how broken I am. I want to still be friends. An unbroken woman would have been gone at the beginning and never fell for any of this. Or would have been gone years ago. I was strong once. I was also called a bitch for being strong. But you know what, when I was a bitch, I made better life choices.
So here’s to being a survivor bitch. Happily making voo doo dolls, and looking up How Not To Date Your Ex, or On Being A Mistress. Hey, now there’s a snappy little title, I’m never going to find it. Looks like I have some writing to do.
Sunday, May 10, 2015
Is This How Stalking Starts?
So, last week I had my date. The one I knew I would not be calling again. (see last weeks blog if you are out of touch). And I didn’t hear from him after the standard three day rule for men, so I was in the clear. Or so I thought.
But no. I get a text at 9:30 pm asking me “Hey…what happened to you? ?” And my first thought was DAMN! Where’s that app to erase your phone number from someone else’s phone. And my second thought was ‘It was up to ME to call?’ And my third thought was ‘Trying to avoid this conversation.’ Knowing I couldn’t say any of those things I said the standard answer, “Just been busy. How are you?” this was at 10:42 pm when I remembered he’d texted and I had ignored. I had been deep in a chat with The Poet In My Heart when he texted and I was not going to cut her loose for a guy. Especially this guy. Then I set my do not disturb and went to sleep in preparation for Mother’s Day celebrations today.
I woke up this morning to his response from 11:51 pm “Just working…hanging out.” The man is in his 50’s and he sounds like a junior in high school. I’m hoping I won’t respond. I hate it when I’m left hanging by someone I care about, just as much as I hate the excuse , ‘been busy’ when it’s used on me. It lets me know my place in the priorities of any person using it. And I felt ashamed of myself that I used it on him instead of telling him the truth. I just don’t think we are compatible and I don’t want to waste his time or money. After all he did say, on our first date, he was looking for a girlfriend….he had enough friends. And I’m not interested in him so, hopefully, if I respond I’ll tell him the truth. Although how bad is it to do on a text? I’m used to hearing it in person. Of course back then we didn’t have cell phones that could text. Nor were they inexpensive for everyone. Only the super rich had them and they were huge in comparison.
So I’m trying to compose the best way to tell this guy if he’s serious about not needing any new friends, then I guess we are done, because I don’t like him. I just hope he doesn’t ask why I don’t think we are compatible. I don’t want to hurt his feelings and just because I don’t think like him doesn’t mean he won’t meet someone that does. Perhaps thats what I should lead with if he asks.
Now I know why I got married all those times. I hate dating. Marriage is so much easier.
Cheers
And Happy Mother’s Day!
But no. I get a text at 9:30 pm asking me “Hey…what happened to you? ?” And my first thought was DAMN! Where’s that app to erase your phone number from someone else’s phone. And my second thought was ‘It was up to ME to call?’ And my third thought was ‘Trying to avoid this conversation.’ Knowing I couldn’t say any of those things I said the standard answer, “Just been busy. How are you?” this was at 10:42 pm when I remembered he’d texted and I had ignored. I had been deep in a chat with The Poet In My Heart when he texted and I was not going to cut her loose for a guy. Especially this guy. Then I set my do not disturb and went to sleep in preparation for Mother’s Day celebrations today.
I woke up this morning to his response from 11:51 pm “Just working…hanging out.” The man is in his 50’s and he sounds like a junior in high school. I’m hoping I won’t respond. I hate it when I’m left hanging by someone I care about, just as much as I hate the excuse , ‘been busy’ when it’s used on me. It lets me know my place in the priorities of any person using it. And I felt ashamed of myself that I used it on him instead of telling him the truth. I just don’t think we are compatible and I don’t want to waste his time or money. After all he did say, on our first date, he was looking for a girlfriend….he had enough friends. And I’m not interested in him so, hopefully, if I respond I’ll tell him the truth. Although how bad is it to do on a text? I’m used to hearing it in person. Of course back then we didn’t have cell phones that could text. Nor were they inexpensive for everyone. Only the super rich had them and they were huge in comparison.
So I’m trying to compose the best way to tell this guy if he’s serious about not needing any new friends, then I guess we are done, because I don’t like him. I just hope he doesn’t ask why I don’t think we are compatible. I don’t want to hurt his feelings and just because I don’t think like him doesn’t mean he won’t meet someone that does. Perhaps thats what I should lead with if he asks.
Now I know why I got married all those times. I hate dating. Marriage is so much easier.
Cheers
And Happy Mother’s Day!
Sunday, May 3, 2015
The Good, The Bad and the Ugly
It’s been a very interesting week. Full of good news, and bad news and ugly news, but still a great week. First the great news: I’m cancer free! You never know how worried you are about something until you stop worrying. Waiting for the appointment for the biopsy and the test results has been a long two months. And I didn’t even realized how worried I was until she said, “Nope, your fine.” That very evening I went to Starbucks and the nice young man behind the counter gave me my coffee and treat for FREE! The next day another young man gave me my tea at David’s Tea’s for FREE. All for just being honest when they asked how I was doing. How am I doing? I’m still doing the happy dance. And the celebration continues today with First Daughter at Navy Pier.
The bad news is I was hoping to see a couple of friends this spring and summer and it looks like the summer one has fallen through, and I was so hopeful. But the spring one might still happen, maybe by summer, but we’ve put it off a lot and I’m trying to stay hopeful.
Now to the ugly news, to help celebrate I finally said yes to the man that’s been trying to get me to go out on a date with him. We had two, and while the first one of an hour and a half at coffee at that Starbucks, was ok, and that may have been because I was in such a stellar mood. The next night when he took me to a movie and dinner I was more than bored with his conversation. I was offended. More than once. What is it about my generation? I’m not homophobic, or conservative, or raciest. But he sure had his moments when he was. And it sucks because I expect more from the Me Generation. After all we were the generation that Aids became and explosive epidemic. Killing off celebrities in front of our eyes, many, many celebrities and unknowns alike. And we watched the quilts grow and the lists grow and the parades grow. And said good bye to family and friends alike. And realized that this horrible illness wasn’t being taken seriously or treated with the speed that it should have been given, until married, straight women started being the most infected. They called it the gay cancer, and we were appalled. I can’t believe that the topic of gay rights is still being argued over thirty years later. And he was especially rude in the homophobic category, and I can’t have that again. Mr. Charisma had that, and some more of his traits. Like the very opinionated views on life. But at least with Mr. Charisma there was some intellect to back up his statements, some science, even if it was skewed to his thinking, like most of his opinions. Unfortunately for this new contender, he didn’t have the smarts to back up any of his opinions, and that is a huge turn off for me. I may not have dated or married the greek god image, but I can say that while looks aren’t always the most important thing to me, a sexy brain is. And this guy, even when he tried to be funny or flirty was offensive to me. So I’m not calling him again, unless its to be a friend. Although with so little in common I’d have to be pretty lonely to call him. And I’m not. I have many friends, all long distance, but still, they are there. And I can visit.
So I’m looking forward to more great celebration with First Daughter and a day of sunshine, rides, cool shops, and great food. And perhaps a nice view of the city, lake and some sailors.
Cheers.
The bad news is I was hoping to see a couple of friends this spring and summer and it looks like the summer one has fallen through, and I was so hopeful. But the spring one might still happen, maybe by summer, but we’ve put it off a lot and I’m trying to stay hopeful.
Now to the ugly news, to help celebrate I finally said yes to the man that’s been trying to get me to go out on a date with him. We had two, and while the first one of an hour and a half at coffee at that Starbucks, was ok, and that may have been because I was in such a stellar mood. The next night when he took me to a movie and dinner I was more than bored with his conversation. I was offended. More than once. What is it about my generation? I’m not homophobic, or conservative, or raciest. But he sure had his moments when he was. And it sucks because I expect more from the Me Generation. After all we were the generation that Aids became and explosive epidemic. Killing off celebrities in front of our eyes, many, many celebrities and unknowns alike. And we watched the quilts grow and the lists grow and the parades grow. And said good bye to family and friends alike. And realized that this horrible illness wasn’t being taken seriously or treated with the speed that it should have been given, until married, straight women started being the most infected. They called it the gay cancer, and we were appalled. I can’t believe that the topic of gay rights is still being argued over thirty years later. And he was especially rude in the homophobic category, and I can’t have that again. Mr. Charisma had that, and some more of his traits. Like the very opinionated views on life. But at least with Mr. Charisma there was some intellect to back up his statements, some science, even if it was skewed to his thinking, like most of his opinions. Unfortunately for this new contender, he didn’t have the smarts to back up any of his opinions, and that is a huge turn off for me. I may not have dated or married the greek god image, but I can say that while looks aren’t always the most important thing to me, a sexy brain is. And this guy, even when he tried to be funny or flirty was offensive to me. So I’m not calling him again, unless its to be a friend. Although with so little in common I’d have to be pretty lonely to call him. And I’m not. I have many friends, all long distance, but still, they are there. And I can visit.
So I’m looking forward to more great celebration with First Daughter and a day of sunshine, rides, cool shops, and great food. And perhaps a nice view of the city, lake and some sailors.
Cheers.
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