A blonde suspects that her boyfriend is cheating on her, so she goes out and buys a gun. She goes to his apartment that same day, with the gun in hand.
Sure enough, when she opens the door, she finds her boyfriend in the arms of a redhead. She points the gun at her boyfriend and stares him down for a moment.
Then, suddenly, she's overcome with grief, so she puts the gun up to the side her head. The redhead yells, "Wait! Don't do it..."
The blonde yells back, "Shut up! You're next!"
Boonie looks like a man does who might have to get married if you take his picture...
Annabelle looks like a woman does who might have to get married if you take her picture....
So, over the weekend I charted my hero's journey for my children's story, and began developing the main characters, throwing them out to Brian who loved them and had his own suggestions. Since I want this story to appeal to boys, especially boys who have difficulty reading, his input is invaluable.
This reminds me of when I was his age and my mother would make Raggady Ann and Andy dolls. My mother, the incredible seamstress that she is, would create these magnificent Raggady Ann and Andy dolls for me and for gifts for all my cousins. No matter how many I had, every time she would work on one, I would find myself wanting it, even though it was to go to a cousin across the states. My mother would finish a leg, and I would carry around and love just the leg, then she would finish an arm, and I would do the same.
When the doll was complete, I would have conversations with him or her, naming them and explaining that I had to let it go. My mother said it was the most amazing guilt put on a parent by a small child. (See...I was good even then). I helped choose the fabrics and the hair color - always just the right shade of red, so naturally I wanted them. They were a part of me, like a younger sibling. On the day they were to be packed for shipping, I would gather my collection of rag dolls about my tea table and throw a tea "going away" party, which would have my mother providing the cookies.
When Brian began to give me feed back on my story I thought of the days I walked around loving the rag dolls. He wanted to read every word of the story, poking his head through my arm and asking "What did you write"?
At the end of the day Brian knocked over my coffee on all my notes, so now I have coffee stains throughout. I wanted to yell, but did not - he felt bad. Hey, the thoughts are permanently in my head, doesn't matter at this stage how they come out....coffee stained and all.
But I did joke, "Is this a sign not to do this"? (We catholics talk out loud to saints, and I always chat with Saint Jude).
The answer I hear back is "No, it's just a sign you have a kid...".
C
It is predicted that tonight's weather will get down into the 20's here in Northern California and we should cover plants and be prepared for freezing. Right now, the sun shines brightly, with a slight cold breeze. My thyroid condition keeps my body temperature below normal, so I am always cooler than the rest in a room. This type of weather chills me to my cells and depresses me as the third pair of socks on my feet although create a thick layer of cushion, does not keep me warm.
Often, I am forced to take hot showers to bring my body temperature up so that I can feel the actual temperature in a room. I am often shocked at how warm I have the house, but my body temperature does not heat up to match it. This is one of the areas guys I have dated just don't understand when I tell them I am cold. They look at me like it is typical for a woman to have this complaint, and shrug it off as if putting on a sweater or pulling on a blanket fixes it, when it rarely does.
I am puzzled by their lack of compassion and understanding that having a low body temperature and being cold isn't pleasant, and can be exhausting. A fast running metabolism is warm and high energy, so what do they think is happening if I am cold? I have yet to meet a man that is kind and helpful when I say that I am cold. What is it with men when they hear a woman say that she is cold?
This is the main reason that I love warm places, especially the tropics. I love being warm all the time. My dream is to live someplace warm, near the ocean, where I can have my windows open and the smell of flowers fill the room. People often think California is warm. This part of Northern California is not warm. In fact, those of us that grew up here laugh at the people who buy air conditioners, as we have no more than maybe 13 "hot" days a year. We are foggy and windy a great portion of the time, and our summer doesn't begin until late July and lasts to mid-October.
So, I have logs for a fire, and shortly will go out and cover my plants for tonight, but for this winter I have started to write the children's story that has been rattling around in my head for so many years now. It will be my winter project to distract me from the cold. It also means from time to time I may not be writing as much here, depending on how well I can balance it all with work and Brian.
I will still occasionally need to get my ramblings out of my head so that I can get to my story plot, so I will come here and unload those thoughts, just like today when the cold was beginning to bug me. My nose and ears are ice cold right now.
I wonder if I was a dog in my past life...
Enjoy your Saturday.
Until next time-
C
Brian asked if I would have Thanksgiving this year, since he pointed out that I have never had Thanksgiving - one that he could remember. In the past, it was always at my mom's or my sister-in-laws, but my stepfather died when Brian was 4 and my brother and sister-in-law split up over a year ago thus changing the long held tradition.
I was once considered the queen of dinner parties and after my divorce I somehow managed to completely stop having them. This year we were invited to two other Thanksgiving parties and I was looking forward to drinking other peoples wine and eating wonderful food I didn't have to clean up. But Brian insisted, "I want you to have Thanksgiving - please". So I thought about it for about half a second and said, "Sure, why not".
Dinner parties are work - jaysus.
In my second year of college I decided to change my major from journalism to god I don't know what I want to be so I'll try anything degree plan. Part of this new college plan was a string of gourmet cooking classes - culinary arts. I loved it. It was so different than the boiled Irish cooking I was used to at home. I thought broccoli was khaki colored.
Thus I learned the techniques of gourmet chefs and broccoli is actually green.
It is amazing the things we do for the people we love, especially our children. They are a calculating bunch though. Once I said yes Brian hit me with his list of dinner guests, which besides his best friend, included my x husband and my x mother-in-law. As mothers we learn to breathe deeply before we speak sometimes. I thought about all this kid has been through and all that he has accomplished and figured what the hell. So again I said yes, and invited my x husband and his mom. I told my mom that she had better come and bring lots of wine.
And because I am out of practice, I decided to do it up right with table decorations, silver and fine china. I cleaned our place until it sparkled, moved furniture around and prepared some of my old signature foods. Brian was a big help and loved every minute of it.
As I sat at the end of the table looking down where Brian sat between his dad and his best friend I could see that he was twisting in his skin with happiness. Everyone at the dinner party was there for Brian.
Today the dining table sits in the middle of the room, the decorations moved about, half melted candlesticks and used tea cups at one end. The kitchen has stacked plates and cups, used wine glasses and dirty linens, ready for me to finish cleaning and the china to be stored. They are the remnants of well-enjoyed dinner party.
Many of the divorced will tell you that we must live completely separate lives in order for our children to adjust. I am never one to do what everyone else says I should. In Brian's case, he doesn't ever remember his father and I together - he was two years old when we separated. I have asked Brian if he would like to have his father and I together and he looks at me like I am nuts. I know this kid well enough to also ask, "Then do you want me all to yourself at our place and your dad all to yourself at his place"? "Yeah" is always his answer. He likes us individually there for him, and together in presence only on special occasions.
Do I enjoy hanging out with my x husband? No, I don't frankly, but Brian loves his dad and growing up I was not forced to choose between my mother and my father and I don't want Brian to feel like he has to choose between us. I think the cruelest thing we can do to a child is try and force them to love or not love another adult that we want or don't want in our lives.
So I had a dinner party and made my son happy, how difficult was that? And I enjoyed cooking for a large group and experimenting with some different flavors. The food was a success, the Turkey perfect and everyone laughed and had a great time. I proved to myself that I can still entertain and put a perfect three course meal on the table.
Brian's best friend's family didn't have a Thanksgiving ... I don't try and guess where their money goes or why this boy seems to go without ... he is just my son's best friend and that makes him family. My parents welcomed myfriends like family, hell my mother takes on all my girlfriends like they are daughters, so I naturally take on my sons friends.
I loved the look on this boys face as he looked over the table and the china, with the food and the idea of a bunch of people sitting together over a table and enjoying a fine dinner. I am certain he will remember it a life time. He stayed for a sleepover and the boys slept in the pull-out bed in front of the fire with Polar Express on TV. They ate ice cream at 11pm, at which point I had to go collapse into bed.
There isn't a man in that bed, and it is probably a good thing. No complications, no egos, just my soft pillows and my comfy mattress where I drift off to sleep in complete peace for having done the right thing for my son and his little friend.
Until next time-
C
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The utterly impractical, never predictable,
Sometimes irascible, quite inexplicable, Irish.
Strange blend of shyness, pride and conceit,
And stubborn refusal to bow in defeat.
She's spoiling and ready to argue and fight,
Yet the smile of a child fills her soul with delight.
Her eyes are the quickest to well up with tears,
Yet her strength is the strongest to banish your fears.
Her hate is as fierce as her devotion is grand,
And there is no middle ground on which she will stand.
She is wild and she's gentle, she's good and she's bad.
She is proud and she's humble, she's happy and sad.
She is in love with the ocean, the earth and the skies;
She is enamored with beauty wherever it lies.
She is victor and victim, a star who's not dead,
But mostly she's Irish - a special redhead.
She speaks, " Cead Mile Failte" to friend and to rover
It means you are always welcome -A thousand times over
Said with love and compassion, that's the Irish you see
Wherever you come from, whomsoever you be.
Happy Thanksgiving, "Cead Mile Failte". ;-)
Slan agat,
C
Finally, there are the Type 2's ... ones who get married and don't know how to tell you at first ...then tell you when you least expect it, like an asteroid falling from the sky out of nowhere. Which is fine, I mean, when is it a good time to say, "I am now married"? The issue I have is when that statement is followed with:
"But that won't change things between us, right"?
In my own life, my Mr. Type 2 cannot be blamed for the marriage bomb. We had more of a dance than a relationship, and often he would frustrate me and I would stop speaking to him for long periods of time.
Brilliantly funny like Mark and someone who I can be myself with, I would miss him when we would stop speaking and inevitably contact him to say just that. I do not believe in pride when it comes to matters of the heart. When my father died in front of me I realized at the young age of 18 that life is terribly short and there is no time like the present to tell people that you love them, regardless of how they might feel about you.
I can honestly say that if I died tomorrow everyone I know would say that I loved him or her deeply - without a doubt. I don't wait for the right moment to tell people that they matter. Everyone needs to matter to someone and the greatest gift we can give is to let the people we care about know. Some handle it well; others worry if there is strings - it isn't really love if there are strings...
I do remember when my Type 2 told me he had married in the year and a half we went without speaking. It felt like an arrow pierced my heart, shot from 5 feet away with all the might of Paul Bunyan. It is the type of shock where your soul drops out your backside to the floor like your shadow.
This kind of situation makes me think of that scene in When Harry Met Sally where Meg Ryan calls Billy Chrystal sobbing because her prior boyfriend is getting married. She isn't crying because she wants him, she is crying because it isn't her, she wasn't married and had no prospects in the near future. This is such a great "girl" moment in the movie.
When Mr. Type 2 and I finished our phone conversation, I called my friend Ebet and cried on the phone. There was never a future with Mr. Type 2 - he lived too far away, I no longer traveled, we had our children to think of, his culture, and other issues, but I cried anyway. I cried because it wasn't me, he didn't love me, he didn't want me and some lucky woman out there was living my dream life... or was she?
Life is funny, after adjusting to the idea that the two most incredible men I had ever clicked with are now married I went on with my dating life. The heart heals and I began to enjoy my Mr. Type 2 as a good friend. His instant messages are wickedly funny, his phone calls and conversations always lift my spirits.
Because of the distance between us I never had to worry about seeing him and having old feelings resurface, until he recently dropped another bomb. "I will be in Silicon Valley for business on a regular basis" he typed. [GULP] Suddenly my Type 2 man will be in my backyard AND he wants to have dinner. [GULP GULP] I don't think there is enough wine in Napa to get me through an evening safely. I'd end up naked in his bed, as my heart would takeover my head and all good judgment would fall with our clothing. Then, I would be back loving someone who can't give me the life I want because someone else already occupies that place. I suck at settling for less from a man. It brings out the worst kind of princess in me. I do not like being in second place.
So I have not had dinner with him...yet. My dearest friend KB has offered to chaparone the evening <laugh> she is so cute and very protective of me. She likes Mr. Type 2 and wants me to see him, but I just can't bring myself to sit across a table and hear his wonderful laugh, see his beautiful face. "Better to feel pain yesterday than today" I always say. To visit him would put me back to the day where my soul fell out my back and landed on the floor. No matter how many ways you slice our relationship pie, it still is covered with the sweet cream of his marriage and I would taste it with every bite. I am sure it would belch up.
It is difficult to resist all the Types of people who are caught in their own marriage dance and looking for another life. The real problem is that they don't know what they want, they may never know what they want and being around them too much can damage your heart. None are bad people, hell I have been one and never intended to hurt the people I did date when I was rolling through being Type 3 and 4 in my own life towards men..
Being on the receiving end though sure changes the view and I have no desire to ever be one of these Types ever again. I am clear about what I want out of life, and refuse to settle for anything less. I am tested all the time and I walk away, better to save my heart for another day.
Until next time-
C
As Thanksgiving approaches, the most interesting situation unfolded before my eyes. My x husband told me today that over the weekend he and his latest girlfriend broke up...she broke up with him. I am not surprised, and not for the reasons you might think.
She is a Type 3 - Married looking for that stepping stone person.
Yes my friends, all these types come in women form too. I, myself have been a couple of them. After meeting Katie, and liking her (as my x husband does have great taste in women) I was shocked to find out she had recently kicked her husband out for cheating and had yet to file for divorce -- OH OH. She is still married as far as I was concerned, and my x was about to become stepping stone man.
I met Patrick at this same place in his life. I was still hung up on Mark, so dating him while he was exiting his marriage seemed harmless enough. I myself, after two years of fighting with my x, needed to put the finishing touches on my own legal papers and finish my divorce. One could say we were both still married, even though I had been legally separated for over two years when Patrick rode his motorcycle into my world.
Without going into a lot ofboring detail, we tried a relationship for 9 months and only the first three months rocked - the rest was just one long 7 month break-up. However, we both did finalize our divorces while together. There is so much bad about the whole thing it would bore us all to tears to even give it print time here. Besides, he is a jerk.
Sometimes my life lessons are learned the hard way, I dated Mark (the one who threw up his toes in my bathroom - not Mr. Big) who had just left his marriage; there was Oscar, who late into the game confessed that he and his wife had never even filed, they just lived apart; and Bill who was like Oscar... living apart - no filings. Married. Married. Married. Married. All type 3's or 4's, one Type just a little ahead of the other. Typical Type 3's want you there as they leave; Type 4's have left, but are in the process and just want a warm body.
The problem with being the stepping stone person is both these types will always leave you, or you will grow tired of dealing with their divorce and leave them. Either way, it is still another form of MARRIED and life is too short to spend with the walking wounded. Not only that, do we not have the right to be considered for who we are, not who we are not? I deserve to be loved for the fun, warm loving person that I am, and comparing me to an x just doesn't give me my fair chance.
So there I was getting ready to write this entry when my x husband tells me Katie wants to date other people. I really don't want to know this much about his life, but found it ironic that she became exactly what I have seen in men. It is sad, because I actually think Katie is perfect for my x husband and he is perfect for her, but because of timing it won't happen. My x won't get his fair chance.
Timing is the other problem of Type 3's and 4's, your relationship could be a perfect match, but they won't see it because of the ball and chain around thir heart. Kinda sad really.
I say avoid being a stepping stone person and save your stones for your own garden.
Until next type-
C
My next Mr. Type was...
Mr. Type 5... Mr. living with a girlfriend, but dating.
Again, in the beginning I did not know (by the way Type 5's are all over the Internet as well. With the convenience of a computer, shopping for women is just a click of the fingers. So, women everywhere (and men too) be aware of your significant other's time spent on the computer...it may say more about your relationship than you realize).
I would type this guy's name here with my story, but people who might read this know him and I really do not want to cause him any pain, because in the end, his life caught up with him and has turned out exactly as it should.
When I dated him, I figured we would just be friends and was still pretty hung up on Mark. When the relationship moved forward, he discussed his live-in girlfriend and really, I did not care. Sometimes the game I play is more about testing the man's feelings for me and not whether I want him around, cooking me dinner or meeting my mom. I am incredibly competitive; often with me it is the classic case of wanting to be number one, but not necessarily wanting the guy permanently.
News flash men: if you are not meeting my family - (especially my mom) I AM NOT INTERESTED IN SOMETHING SERIOUS. But I do enjoy making you uncomfortable while I see exactly what you think of me. Because here is the deal, "Players" are uncomfortable with a certain string of questions from women. Nice guys answer serious questions without much thought, "Players" on the other hand, freak out and are more than happy to let Mr. Asshole out of the bag when they feel they are backed into a corner. There is no real corner; it is guilt and true intension rising to the service. Once I see this, I enjoy a good hang up of the phone or a shove out the door and get on with the living of my life.
There really isn't much of a story here, these are the guys we meet along the path and no one wants a guy who cheats on a girlfriend. Because here is the deal: those of us that were married and had to go through a divorce had to use a butter knife to cut off our left arm to save the rest of our body. Yes, that is what divorce is all about.
I better understand unhappy married people because of what is involved in tearing your life apart to put it back together, the complication and heartache of tearing a home in two. The heartache and devastation can be almost unbearable. This is by far more understandable than a guy who lives with a woman and has no kids. Give me a break. Exactly how hard is it to leave the situation? It is the classic case of a guy who is looking for the perfect woman because he lacks any of the qualities in himself - the poor girl who is forced to live with him. Somehow this type of guy actually believes Hollywood is real.
In the end, this guy and his girlfriend broke up after he cheated for god knows how long or with how many. She went on to marry and have children and he is still looking for Mrs. Perfect. I now feel sorry for him as he approaches 50 with not much but a house to show for it.
There have been other guys with live-in girlfriends (on the Internet) who have tried to get me to meet them, one right here in Santa Rosa who tried telling me he is loan officer by day and bakes bread for Safeway in Bennett Valley by night. The hilarious part of this story is the fact that this guy was stupidly clueless as to how many people I know in this town so I asked around. Turns out he was lying, but I did not doubt the girlfriend was real. The truly horrific side of the story is that his live-in girlfriend has a child that is not his, and he claimed he wasn't sure he wanted the relationship because she was older and couldn't have kids.
Holy shit, these guys really do exist.
All I thought about was her child, that wonderful open-eyed wonder who probably liked and looked up to him. I took great pleasure in giving him Irish hell, and shudder that the girlfriend he lived with could be any of us. EW.
Another is a guy who lives with his girlfriend in Chico, who never sees his own kids, but is more than happy to play around on the Internet and look for someone to occupy his wandering mind. He is applying around to be a cop, and could even be one by now ... and you wonder why I don't like cops...? Give me a Fireman any day...oi. He is just one more example of this type of guy, and they piss me off more than married men. It is just such a cowardly way to live.
They make me look forward to the day I am 70 and they are long lost into the world of putting their teeth in a bubbling glass by the bed and having a doctor feel their prostate on a regular basis.
The next type I dated was Type 3.
Until next type-
C
FEMALE (MY) PRAYER:
Before I lay me down to sleep,
I pray for a man, who's not a creep,
One who's classy, smart and strong
One who loves to listen long,
One who thinks before he speaks,
One who'll call, not wait for weeks.
I pray he's gainfully employed, when I spend his cash, won't be annoyed.
Pulls out my chair and opens my door,
Massages my back and begs to do more.
Oh! Send me a man who'll make love to my mind,
Knows how to answer,"How big is my behind?"
I pray that this man will love me to no end, and always be my very best friend. AMEN.
MALE (HIS PROBABLE) PRAYER:
I pray for a deaf-mute nymphomaniac with huge boobs who owns a liquor store and a boat.
This doesn't rhyme and I don't give a damn.
A whatever men.
Check out this female writer's blog, funny stuff: http://www.dooce.com/
A redhead went to the police station with her next-door neighbor to report that her husband was missing. The policeman asked for a description. She said, "He's 45 years old, 6 foot 4, has dark eyes, dark wavy hair, an athletic build, weighs 185 pounds, is soft-spoken, and is good to the children."
The next-door neighbor protested, "Wait a minute! Your husband is 5 foot 3, green eyed, hairy all over, 350 pounds, has a big mouth, and is mean to your children."
The redhead replied, "Yes, but who wants HIM back?"
We had our first Parent Teacher conference of this school year. It was the best report card Brian has ever had. I think Paige (Brian's teacher) expected more feedback from my x husband and myself, but we were in such a state of (thrill) shock we couldn't speak. Brian got his first straight A ever - in Math and it looks as if the specialized auditory processing treatment is bringing up his reading and writing scores. He scored high in Science and Social Studies too.
It is interesting when we get what we pray for. I prayed, searched, argued and fought to get Brian the help he so desperately needed - FIVE LONG years of it. And BOOM, in a day ... we arrived. Now, I have to turn and look at my own life. I have set aside so much while working my ass off trying to get Brian moving forward in school. He is taking off with it and the confidence he is feeling is amazing to witness. I am loving it.
So now I should be hiking and working on getting well every day...r i g h t. What is it about us mothers that we can focus so clearly on our children and rescue them, and yet find it difficult to "do" for ourselves? It has been a long time since I have thought of myself ... I am not even sure where to begin.
Yes, I have maintained the blog and started writing again...
Geesh...what in the hell am I going to be like when he graduates from whatever and moves out of the house? Am I becomming my mother? (The thought sends me screaming from the room).
C
Married Men is a subject I have yet to discuss... Personally, I have encountered 5 types of MARRIED men during these past 7 single years. I file them into the following:
Type 1: Married, but do not want you to know they are married and attempt to completely conceal any traces of another life. They steadfastly deny they are married until you produce hard evidence proving beyond a doubt that you know. Technically: ... MARRIED.
Type 2: Married, and don't tell you at first, then tell you and hope you will over-look it. Technically: ... MARRIED.
Type 3: Married and wanting someone for a stepping mat while they go from married to divorce. Technically: ... MARRIED.
Type 4: Married, but moved out of the house, live elsewhere and call themselves divorced, but never file any paperwork (the wife doesn't either). Technically: ... MARRIED.
Type 5: Almost Married, meaning he lives with a girlfriend, but still wants to date other women without girlfriend knowing. Technically: ... MARRIED (close enough).
So ... which types have I dated and why? I am afraid to say all of the above. There is a naivete' experienced when coming out of marriage, where we think everyone is just like us, but more to the truth is everyone is different and come with their own set of issues. Like the animals in the wild, we must protect our hearts from predators like the animals protect their young. Not those predators are necessarily all bad, in the wild they must eat and seek out the weak or unprotected to survive.
The same is probably true of the types above; in their world they are trying to survive. The safest place is to not put us in the paths of these types, but sometimes through a great deal of illusion, mostly on their part and some on our part, we are sucked in and caught in their web.
I became friends with Type 1 (Married but doesn't want you to know) online just as my own marriage was ending. I do not remember how he discovered me online, but he is one of the most brilliantly hilarious men I have ever known, who also truly understands my humor. He is the person I fell in love instant messaging with for hours at a time. We would chat for hours accross the computer, laughing and laughing at the witty repartee bouncing back and forth between us like a great tennis volley. I forgot what it was like to laugh this way and loved every minute of it.
We were friends online for over a year and I dated other people while trying to figure out who I was again. He never said he was married, at some point I asked and he said he was not. His humor helped tremendously through the adjustment to single parenthood and allowed me to forget my troubles for brief periods. Little did I realize he was also getting me to write again. Our Instant Messages would have made a great two person stage play of "He Said, She Said".
I would cleverly take and twist around what he would type and toss it back at him with a click of an Enter key, then he would respond in kind. We wrote about every subject imaginable, except sex. I was wary of this instant message medium and did not want the subject matter to focus on sex. Once a woman allows a guy to cross that line then the giddy period of conversation disappears and only steamy pillow talk remains. The guy does not want to return to the former, his fantasy now moves into high gear.
His name is Mark and he lives in Southern California. He was to become my first official Mr. Big. He owns his own company and travels the country in his own plane, and the world first class on an airplane conducting big business as he goes. I was yet to travel for business, so I ate up his every word, wanting desperately to visit other worlds beyond the California State Line. Through his description of his business world by reading his mind via the power of the written Instant Message exchange I was able to transform myself into the head of a CEO type and try on that life in my head.
Part of the intoxication of this online experience was in being the object of intellectual sexuality where a man found my intelligent mind brilliant, alluring, entertaining and thrillingly funny. To be the object of desire for my quick-witted mind, rather than the size of my breasts, butt or thighs was new and foreign to me. It is really how it should be, because in the end it is the ability to communicate which saves a relationship - not his great long legs or her beautiful breasts.
It would be a rainy winter night when Mark would fly his plane to Sonoma County for our first date. It had been almost two years of online chatting, and my dating mishaps. He asked me to pick a five star restaurant to take me to dinner and I enjoyed the pleasure of researching just the right place and settled on the Mixx, an old Santa Rosa tradition.
I liked him instantly and he felt the same. This would mark the beginning of great Cinderella-like dates where he would sweep in, take me out and return me to my little home, back to my regular life. I loved our time together, always full of laughter and interesting stories. I love a man who can tell a great story. Mark is also the type of man who wanted to open my eyes to other worlds, the world of business travel, great restaurants and the mind of a very successful entrepreneur.
This went on for some time until I began to question why he was not bringing me more into his world and began questioning why we always spoke on the cell phone - not from a home phone. I started pushing him about being married, which he kept insisting he was not, until one evening I reached into his raincoat, pulled out his checkbook and looked at the names on the checks. There, right before my eyes was a woman's name (below his) just like a wife's should be when printed on a check. Upon confronting him, he finally was forced to confess and suddenly he went from a man with one child to a man of three. The one child I knew of was from his first marriage and the new two now from his second.
I was shocked, but not surprised as when 2 + 2 keeps adding up to 6, we know our instincts are trying to wave safety flags in front of us "WARNING WARNING - DANGER AHEAD" which we often discount for our own reasons. I tried to take in his reasons and requests to continue on, but (for me) everything had changed. Not because he was married (yes this was a problem and against my beliefs), but because he lied so directly, so completely to me about it for such a long time. He denied me the opportunity to approach the situation with all the information and make decisions based upon all the facts. In his selfishness he robbed me of the chance to be fully myself, our friendship now a lie - I was involved in something I had promised myself I never would find myself in.
We drifted apart and I began traveling for my own work, taking me places and providing me with experiences that he once furnished. I lightly cried from time to time, because the intellectual stimulation he provided was gone, and despite his character flaw he is a terrifically funny man whom was great to be around. Some people light up the space they occupy with their personality, and he shined as bright as a floodlight. I had known him for some time and the larger than life space that he once occupied was gone from my life.
And I swore this would not happen again ...any married man ...
Until I met type 5.
This story will continue ... until next time-
C
Now... my Writer's Digest says I should write everyday. Gee, sex everyday would be nice too, but I don't know how realistic the former or much less the latter is. Brian came home from school sick and I am beginning to think my fatigue just might be a bug. Everything stops when mom gets sick (HA). Here I am at my x husband's office putting the finishing touches on his monthly client newsletter, while he gets to hang out with Brian at his Condo watching old western movies on TV.
I did say I wanted to be paid to write - correct?
My eyes feel like Marty Feldmen's (Igor - Young Frankenstein), my throat is starting to advise me not to talk (some of my x's might say this is a good thing) and I just want to put my head down on this pile of newsletters and snore. This could be why sex is out of the question - I am painting the most appealing picture of myself here. These are the times I get down on my knees and thank the God's of Tranquility there is no man to gohome to. I don't have to deal with his libido.
(or his socks on the living room floor...his brown racing stripe tidy whities on the bathroom floor ... his opinion on what I should eat that will make me feel better ... the loud sounds of something electronic, be it the computer, his power tools or something on his TV ... the constant "Honey do you know where [fill in the blank] is?" question ... or his 'reading' in the bathroom when I need to desperately get in it).
But there is the flip side to this...there is?
Yes, there is. If I could have a peaceful, mature loving man who throws a blanket over me so I might sleep, distracts Brian with a game of Clue or Chess, and does the dishes without complaint while I sleep to get well, I might even give into his libido. I have seen the grand couples; fussing over each other in their homes, at ballgames, in restaurants so I know restorative love is out there.
Yet, many of my married friends want my life. My life as a struggling single mom in a tiny garden place with an old cat that drools, a dog that dances and a boy who makes me laugh. They want my worries, my fears, and my mistakes because in living them, they feel it is a life lived 'by my own leave' - an independent life.
Yeh, I guess...
But I don't think they do. It is easier to look out instead of in when searching for answers, and often, once we are married the reasons we married the person laying next to us in bed is wrapped up in who we were at the time we pushed for the commitment. In my own marriage I was dealing with the fact that, even though 30 years old, I was not mature enough for marriage. I was looking for something outside of myself to make me happy. I thought 'happy' was wrapped up in a home, marriage and a baby.
My x offered the brass ring: he wanted the same, but if I looked closer I would have seen my own immaturity reflected back in him. Water always rises to its own level. Once married, someone had to be the adult, and that person became me and I resented him for it. Thus the married couplegames began, the one where we loose little pieces of ourselves as we try and bend into this marriage mold without training, and still looking to that other person to make us happy.
What I have learned over the years since my divorce is the best kind of relationships are the ones that develop when we are creating a great life, when we have a plan - a passion. The other person comes along during this time, is caught up in our love of creating a certain life, and is swept up into it with their own passion for their own life. It is really a 1 + 1 = 2 scenario, rather than a -1 + -1 + -n (n being all the garbage) trying to equal 2 and the math just doesn't add up.
So for me, I have yet to create my dream life. I know what I want, I have an idea on how to get there, but need the energy and a solution to my thyroid so I can go out and grab it. I don't want to repeat what I did in my marriage, choose someone who is going to give me a life. It never works, and I don't want someone else dictating that life.
I see in some of my girlfriends that they are stuck, lost after having the kids - being married, acquiring that dream and now looking for what to do next. Becoming single would certainly change their lives, but it will not help in the long term, unless the marriage is a personally degrading experience, and involves too much personal sacrifice.
Some of my friends are caught up in trying to find themselves within marriages that involve stepchildren they love, where the spouse brought them into the relationship. Beside the fact that I think there is a special place in heaven for such step-parents, it makes the waters even more muddied as my friends try and set priorities that are interwoven with young children who are not their own.
It's rather like Alice Through the Looking Glass, we are facinated by what we see in the mirror (the person we love) and want to step through to the other side. Once there, we explore their world and it looks a lot like the Mad Hatter's tea party and we want to find our way back 'home' to our Chesher cat. Sometimes the craziness works together like a great novel and other times it is all about pain and suffering.
Whatever the story, we have to find our own life's purpose, our dream and quit looking in that mirror.
Until next time-
C
I haven't forgotten the blog; it has just been a full couple of days with Brian. My fatigue is back with a vengeance, party due to over-exertion (lack of proper rest) with a trip to KB's for a sleepover for Brian with her stepson Andrew. But really I think it has been creeping up on me for a week. So back to the drawing board. Arghhhhhhh!
Funny how pets still need food and water and boys need food and love. No rest for mothers.
C
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If you are a mom, have you ever noticed that once you have had a baby hanging on, it seems you become a human magnet for life? Why is it when (as mothers) we show up everyone wants a piece of us like slices of homemade pie set out to be devoured by the masses?
Brian decided he wanted to come to our house tonight, so with it I get all his homework, the dog, dogfood, and a trip by the school. It seems that Brian has left his health book at school...suddenly the reason he wants to be with me is clear. His father would kill him and say "NO!!", I on the other hand say, "Let's go by the school and see if we can find the janitor".
So with a dog on my lap, a truck full of school stuff and pet crap I am off to Brian's school. Could the dog just give me some breathing room? We locate the janitor and manage to get Brian's health book and proceed home. Suddenly my quiet, by myself single parent night has turned itself upside down.
I now must go to go to the grocery store because nothing is defrosted for dinner. You see, when Brian isn't home I just have a light snack. Again, the dog is crowding over the steering wheel as I turn into the grocery store parking lot, and Brian has a childs agena - grocery store means SHOPPING.
I grab a few things and say no to 4 out of 5 items that Brian pitches and we are in the truck heading home. Brian is chatting nonstop and I nod like I am listening, but really I am doing the parent thing where my mind is a million miles away and I am just saying "Ah huh".
We reach the house, and I park - Brian races for the door leaving everything behind. The dog is in a dead race with him. I grab the grocery bags and head for the door. This is when the cat appears and decides to glue herself to my feet. Now I ask you, how does moving under my feet help me feed the cat faster? I am stepping over the cat and yelling for Brian to get his school crap from the truck, when the dog gets jealous that the cat seems to have all my feet attention and starts blocking my way. Brian races by me to the truck, grabs his books and meets me at the front door.
Now I have a 10 year old boy in front of me, a cat under my feet and a dog at my knees. Can I just scream now? Then my son says, "MOM!! HURRY UP!" Suddenly I realize that I am surrounded by flies in the shape of a boy and his pets and everyone is buzzing about on me. Where did my peaceful night off go??
I reach through Brian and manage to open the door and suddenly my popularity diminishes as both Boy and pets race into the kitchen, leaving me standing in the doorway. It is amazing how quickly they all loose interest in me once dinner is being prepared and food appears.
Come clean up, my son becomes invisible and homework is his sudden top priority. I can see the future in that when it comes time for kitchen clean-up, he will become the man who has something important to fix in the garage. I invision his wife in the kitchen surrounded by animals ...
OIY.
C
As I peruse my recent writings on this blog I realize I haven’t mentioned how Brian’s football playoffs are going – or went.
‘Went’ would be the operative word. In the end Brian's team went down in glory and played their hearts out. I never knew a bunch of 9-11 year old boys could play at something with so much heart. I was amazed at their level of commitment and comradery. In the final game Brian’s team was down 18-0 at the end of the 2nd quarter, and it looked like they were being outplayed at every position. Silent boy faces left the field for halftime, looking as if their dreams for a playoff position were gone like the end of summer.
Then a funny thing happened.
Brian’s team wouldn’t give up. They came back in the 3rd quarter and the next thing I know Brian’s team scores two touchdowns and is down 18-12 and have turned the game around. Typical parents that we are, we begin to lose our voices as it looks like the kids have a chance to pull a "Joe Montana". (Joe Montana was the 3rd quarter quarterback).
In the end it came down to three attempted Hail Mary's in the last seconds of the game. Everyone was on their feet wanting this group of kids to win, but as fate and fortunes go, it was not in the cards, as the 10 year old quarterback over-threw his final Hail Mary pass in the last second of the game by about a foot.
Then, the most amazing thing happened, the boys did not explode in tears. They got in line to congratulate the other team who was jubilant at their win. They shook hands and walked back to be with Coach Hal who gathered his team in for one last talk. I walked down from the bleachers wondering how Brian would be and what would I say.
I was proud of how hard they played and their dignity. I contemplated how I would explain to Brian that their behavior meant more to me than if they had won. A guy friend once told me that the loosing creates more of a man than the winning, and while walking the walk to greet Brian I understood too well what he meant. But now, with my son’s heart broken, what will I say?
I walked all the way to the gate at the field this time and noticed my x husband stayed back at the stands. I was not about to let Brian walk that long walk alone after his first big loss. At first sight he looked ok, but as he approached I could see the tears rolling down his cheeks. It was all I could do to hold back my own, so I sucked in a fair amount of wind (these are the toughest times as a parent). Sometimes certain types of pain is good for our children to feel, and we can’t fix it – it is a part of life.
He buried his face in my chest and I kissed the top of his head. All I said was “Brian I am so proud of you, that was the best football game I have ever watched”. Now, my son knows I worked for the bank that sponsored Joe Montana in the 80’s and my parents had seats on the 50-yard line 22 rows up to the 49’rs for more years than I can say – in fact my uncle has them now. “Really?” he looks up and I use my thumbs to wipe his tears. “Really really” I answer. He grins, “Can I have a Gatorade?” “You can have two today if you want”, I answer as we pull off his gear.
At this point my x husband walks up, suddenly it dawns on me that he couldn’t face Brian, and once he saw that Brian was ok with me he felt he could approach Brian. My x husband didn’t want to cry. He hugged Brian and then they started the whole pushing and shoving thing that men do when there is too much emotion in the moment. Brian’s giggles flow out and fill the air, breaking the tension. I can see my x husband’s relief that Brian is ok, and I realize that this man really does love his son very much.
Now remember friends, I was not all together behind the decision to let Brian play football at such a young age. Believe it or not, it was my own mother who said, “Brian is a big boy and his father can’t coach this. I think it might be really good for Brian”. Why is my mother always right?
When Brian started football he weighed 116 pounds and when he got his uniform he was 113. He had three weeks to loose 13 pounds and certify at 100 pounds. Oddly, he came to me and said, “Mom I heard you talk about what you did to be so skinny in ballet, how would you loose the weight?” I laughed out loud as I said, “Brian I used to stick my finger down my throat and throw up – that is what dancers do – then we would eat a yogurt or an egg every other day. Do you want your system to be as screwed up as mine is now?” He wrinkled his nose at the thought of throwing up and starving himself. (We all know how honest I am). He understands how long it took to diagnose my thyroid disease and what I have gone through to get well, so he definately is not a fan of the "live by air" diet for anyone.
“But I do know how to ‘get healthy’ and I can show you that”. I went on to tell him that he could live without cookies in his lunch, reduce his lunch to rolled turkey and fruit with water, and drink nothing but water. His breakfast could be eggs and we should switch his dinner to two hours before practice, protein and veggies or green fruit, and then only a light snack like an apple before bed. He looked at me and said, “I can do that”. And so he did.
He had to sit out the first game because he was holding steady at 102 pounds, but the players were allowed 2 pounds a week, as long as he maintained, he could play the following week. He played the following week and was down to 101. It was at this point I found out who my son really is and understand how little we really know people, even those we live with and love.
The coaches told Brian his weight was fine, and I offered him a treat every now and then. Brian refused all treats, even though he didn’t have to certify to that 100 pounds. He was determined to certify at 100lbs and no one could stop him.
It was a sunny day in September when Brian’s team won their first game via shutout. All the boys were excited, but as Brian approached me at theend of the game, I could tell his grin meant something more. “Did you certify today?” I asked. His grin widened, “Yeh, I did” he answered. I thought to myself, ‘wow this kid is determined and stubborn’ – I have no idea where he gets that… When everyone else could weigh 106 pounds, Brian weighed in at 100. Suddenly I realized my little boy is becoming a man, and just what a man he is becomming. He is one determined little man.
I have stayed in Santa Rosa and put my life on hold to keep Brian near his father. This type of childhood experience is exactly what I wanted for Brian. It was what I wished upon a star for so many times during the awful years after the divorce. Boys need their dads, as much as we women in divorce might not like to think so. (Trust me I have hated his father and wanted him gone when he was making my life hell).
We can't change the fact that kids love their parents. It is just plain wrong to attempt to cut a parent out of a child’s life. We all know I don’t take child support because I want Brian to have a good life with his dad. You could argue with me on this subject all you want but in the end it just boils down to does the parent see the kid –F*** the money. I knew the money issue would keep us at war for years while Brian suffered and I wanted the suffering to stop. Besides, who says I cannot take care of myself - and Brian?
However, Brian’s dad paid for all the football costs and took Brian to all the games and practices allowing me to sail in and out as I pleased. He was as committed to Brian as Brian was to football and I saw my x husband grow up (some) from the experience. I think a few people thought us nuts at the games when my x's girlfriend Katie would sit between us, cheering for Brian. But as I often do, I look for the love that is there for Brian and I know that Brian understands that in the world of the screwed up adults, he is number 1 with us...
We adore him.
... and he is my little hero.
C
Male dating mistakes ...
- First, to date a woman coming out of a divorce, who is wet to the mat from leaving her husband or him leaving her, is in no state of mind to be dating - it's pure selfishness on a man's part to date her. To those that date women fresh out the married gate are no better than the vultures that circle the latest dead carcass on the road. I call these men, “grave robbers”; as they are just looking to get laid, aware the woman is in no state to think clearly.
The men I knew during the first 6 months of my separation are a complete blur to me. They contact me from time to time and I think “God, who are you and why did I date you?” Fear takes us to a place where good judgment looks like pond scum and we can’t see clearly our way in front of us. Fear is the sweat of the first 6 months of divorce. The newly divorced need new friends, not new lovers, as appealing as that might seem.
-Then there are the men that pretend you have no children. They are an interesting bunch. I am more a mother than anything, and the best part of me is when I am with Brian, caring for his life with precious precision like a fine seamstress. Cut Brian out and 3/4 of whom I am is gone. A man who ignores that I am a mom first, mayas well hump a rag doll, because who I really am is not there, and I am amazing at disconnecting myself from others without them knowing it. I don't let men meet my son, except a rare few who I trust as friends. But even those realize little about my life and who I really am. I have connected with one man these post-divorce years and dated 54 men, so do the math. I am really good at pretending...
-There are the men who have been in my and Brian's home and think nothing of the things they use up - never pondering that it might be the last of Brian's milk - now I must figure out a trip to the store before Brian comes home. My girlfriends who come over for visits get this, as do I when visiting their homes. We never go to each other’s places without bringing a bag of groceries or something that adds to their life. The first night Elisabet showed up, she had a bottle of wine, cheese, salami, crackers, juice, half and half for morning coffee. Few men ever show up with anything but a smile and a hard-on. Her first thought is to make things easy for me and leave something behind for Brian. She gets it. I call these men, “the soup kitchen”, looking to get, rather than give.
-There are the men who don't clean up after themselves. When a man cooks me dinner in his house I take my dishes to the kitchen and help him clean up. If I had a dollar for every time a man has never bothered to pick up his plate let alone help me clean up at my place, I'd have another house by now. They have left wet towels on the bathroom floor, rings on my furniture from the glasses they left sitting behind half full, their crumpled garbage on a table for me to throw away and empty toilet paper roll. They have left out the toothpaste, peed on the floor next to the toilet and tracked mud on my favorite rug without even so much as an "I'm sorry", No wonder their wives got tired of them. All I see is how much extra work they'd be and I'd rather save my energy for Brian. Their behavior sends a huge message to me that they think little of my belongings, or me. I call these men “mama’s boys”, because obviously they assume it is a woman’s duty to pick up after them, a throwback from the days with their mom.
Humorously, many think they are a great catch and worry that some woman will snatch them up before they have found what they are searching for, which is their youth. They are so busy judging the woman instead of showing compassion and trying to be a true friend. I doubt any of these men ever go to their best guy friend’s house without at least a 6-pack of beer. Maybe the man that comes empty handed is showing that he has nothing to offer...?...
-There are the men that won’t date you in your town or their town and treat you like you are the ‘other woman’. I once dated a guy who was going through a divorce and felt he was a prominent member in the Sonoma community (yawn). He was worried that his x wife would see us out, then cry and create a scene in the town he did business in. (There's that divorce fear sweat thing again). I was fine not going out in Sonoma, as he was the main character in the drama in his head and I wasn't up to challenging the plot. But where this guy really blew it, was in the discounting of my free time. I have first right of refusal in my divorce, meaning if Brian's dad makes plans when he has Brian, I am the first person who gets the choice of having Brian, over some babysitter.
This guy would make plans for dinner and I'd tell my x that I was not available in case he made plans. I'd get dressed, maybe get a new pair of pumps and be ready to go and and this guy would call and say his teenage kids had just shown up at his house and he wanted cook them dinner. I would hear them in the background and bid off. The first time I was nice, but the second time I realized he was a man run by his teenage kids and was sending a clear message that my time meant nothing. He never stopped to think what a single mother might go through to go out on a date. What if I had hired a sitter and prepared Brian? I only date when I don't have Brian, but this guy didn't know it. His kids would use him for dinner, then leave him alone for the night and then he would call to see if I was still available - ARE YOU KIDDING ME?? When he tried to pull it a third time, I told him it was enough and I was done. He got mad; as if I was asking him to chose me over his kids (which I wasn't) and his kids were 20 and 17, so give me a break. I just valued my time more than he valued me. I call these men “ time leaches”, as they use up your time without care or second thought.
-There are also the guys who don’t clean up for a date. There once was a guy that showed up one Saturday evening for a date in his jeep, and had nothing but stale garbage all over the floor of his jeep, including a banana peel. When he opened the jeep door for me, he brushed the passenger seat with hishand, pushing more garbage to the floor. Did he think I never took my own vehicle to the car wash on Saturday mornings and notice the guys getting their vehicles cleaned for date night? My own father cleaned our vehicles every Saturday. This guy was sending a clear message of exactly how important I was in his world and became furious with me when I wouldn't get in the car. HA! I may have to deal with my son's bedroom, cause I love him to death, but I certainly don't have to ride in a grown up version of it on date night. This guy and me get into a fight, I storm in my house and slam the door. I call this kind of guy “pigpen”.
Do men forget that I am someone's daughter; some guys little sister, some man's granddaughter, some men's beloved niece and most importantly a boy's sacred mother? Do they treat their family this way?
I hear that chorus of girlfriends out there yelling "YES"!
-There are the guys that try and date you, but only in your home. It’s funny that they think I won't get that they are just looking for an "f**k buddy". They want to just be able to come over and hang out, use your stuff, have sex and leave. If they do take you out it is to some obscure quick eat to try and get you back near a bed. They have no idea that I have dates where men have flown me in their privateplanes, taught me to steer their sail boat, hiked mountains to the top, taken me to the opera, to plays, to ballets, to concerts, to race tracks, to race pits, driving their race car, riding on their motorcycle, dinners in the city, dinners at the top of buildings, Sharks games, Giants games, 49r games, horseback riding, 4-wheeling, shooting, fishing, house boating, gambling, air shows, movies and much more. Do they really think after seeing the world they are going to keep me hidden in a bedroom? Just because I don’t talk about other men doesn’t mean there aren’t other men. I call these men “dick wanderers”, they wander around with their dicks (Joy prefers the word cock) looking for a place to park it, and nothing more.
-Another type is the ones that always want you to drive to see them, even if they are 5 hours away. Let me see, I should spend gas money, gas, ware and tare on my tires, besides the fact that long drives really bother my hip when my foot is constant to the pedal, to go see the guy. Then I should drive back alone … because he is….?….all that? It is interesting to me the number of men that ask this not thinking that I am self-employed. Cash flow is an issue of the self-employed so we must budget until our billable income comes in. I don’t run a business where cash comes in, so I live from deal to deal, sometimes going a couple of months without income coming in. I also don't use credit cards. It makes me brave or crazy to live this way, but these kind of guys really don’t get it. The only ones that do were raised by single mothers and are blown away when I say I am self-employed. I call the men who want you to drive to them and do all the work, “wanna-be royalty”. They think everyone should be at their beck and call. Oddly, they never stop asking for me to travel to see them, even when I never do. At what point do these guys get it?
But as these stories go, there is always the blessed with the disappointing. When Patrick and I broke up for good (the first boyfriend I had after my divorce), Dan came to the rescue. Dan was a 6'4" handsome young engineer-type who worked in Silicon Valley. Through my divorce, we had become good friends online and he disliked every moment I dated Patrick. Guys are funny when they don't like the guy you are with; they try to subtly make fun of the guy so you will think less of him. Dan was the king of this, and would leave me in stitches online as he made fun of the name Patrick. Hw would always say “How’s Pat?”
When Patrick and I broke up, Dan was serious, "I am coming up to take you out" he said, "You need a date". He wouldn't listen to my "No I am fine(s)" and drove up on his motorcycle the following Saturday morning. I will never forget how sexy he looked pulling off his leather riding suit in my front driveway. He has a beautiful grin of which he smiled and said "Hello gorgeous!" Some guys always know the right thing to say. He then went on to say "I am all yours, let's go do whatever you want to do". I wanted to go to the air show, and we decided to take my car over the motorcycle, the first thing he does is fill my car with gas.
Our conversation was light and fun and he couldn't believe that I love jet aircraft. He paid for us to go to the air show, and little did I know he was an air force brat and knew everything there is to know about jet aircraft. I was in awe as he led me around from jet to jet explaining every detail. The other pilots would chat with him and I would find myself surrounded by tall navy and air force men. This date rocked, and Dan is something else. Every now and then, he would look at me and wink. Some guys just know how to date. We shared a hot pretzel seeing who would back off from our lips first. I was having a great time and he knew it.
We spent all day at the air show and when leaving I figured we were done. "Hey you like movies" he says "let's go to a movie - you pick” We drove to the nearest theatre and stood outside making a selection. I wanted to see the new Bruce Willis movie where he was the walking dead, Dan smiled, paid and in we went to the movie, where I spent a great portion hiding my eyes in his shoulder. Once the movie was over, and I expected our date to be over, Dan says, "Let's go get something to eat before I go home" and he proceeded to take me to dinner.
When we were done and back at my house, Dan kissed me on my cheek and said "Catherine, don't you ever settle for less than this from a man - ever". And off he went on his bike. He would tell me later how hard it was not to carry me into the bedroom and have wild sex, but he knew it would be the wrong thing to do to me. Dan is a guy who gets it. We have remained close through his move to Bali, his timein Europe and his move to the East coast. He is a wonderful man.
He still writes saying that enjoys keeping up with my life through the blog, but would prefer me writing to just him. He'd like something more personal. I understand. It was like having Elisabet here in my home, hanging out, chatting about our lives. The connection is better one on one... more personal. Dan, like Elisabet has always been there for me. They are the type of people that add to ones life, not take from it. They make life easier for those they come in contact with, and are remembered for a lifetime, instead of just a blur.
Sometimes men are a combination of the types listed above and they make the most unpleasant dates. They become the ones I find myself another ride home and think of Dan and his words of advise. In the end I think that they aren’t good enough to ever truly know me and my son. I move on and think about my own hopes and dreams and how I can make them happen in a way that makes Brian happy too. I also must make sure that I raise Brian to be more like Dan ...there needs to be more "Dans'"...
Until next time-
C