Day 22: Describe 7 things you’re awful at.

  1. I’m awful at picking a man that won’t lie to me, cheat on me, steal from me or break my heart. I’ve elevated it to an art form and have ruled them out entirely as a result. Heterosexual men are basic creatures. Much like that lump of a human they hand you when you have a baby, you only need to feed, water and love it for things to be agreeable, right? Wrong. I have an innate ability to pick the absolute worst asshole in the room. Eyes closed, heart open… I lose every damn time.
  2. Thinning root vegetables. Seriously.. someone should take my carrot seeds away. There’s honestly no point in me even planting them because I can’t grow them for shit and who needs 4000 pencil sized baby carrots? Nobody.
  3. Kitchener stitch. It’s some sort of modern day needlework witchcraft. I avoid knitting socks for precisely this reason. I loathe not being able to do something though, so I’ll figure it out eventually or die trying.
  4. Seeing the forest for the trees. I see the potential in everyone- and never stop to consider that some people are self motivated and not looking out for me or my best interests. Some folks are just users and I work overtime to see the goodness a little too much. Some of those frogs aren’t princes. Some of those warty little things are just dirty ass reptiles.
  5. Brownies. I can’t bake brownies to save my life. I don’t know why. I’ve given up trying and just buy them. I’m bitter about it though because I’m a damn domestic goddess and hate that I can’t do something.
  6. Sleep. I am the worst insomniac. I am regularly awake between the hours of 1-5 AM and generally give up and get up by 5:30. I’m painfully tired and all things considered could probably use a week of rest, straight. I won’t get it and it won’t stop me from lying awake all night again tonight… so feel free to give me any suggestions you may have.
  7. I’m awful at shaking this Incredicock nightmare. Hearing one thing and seeing another is the worst form of torture and I was crazy to think that touching him again was a good idea. It wasn’t. You can only be casual about someone you don’t care about… just as you can’t make a ho a housewife, it’s absolutely impossible to make a fuckbuddy out of the guy you’re in love with and I should have learned that painful lesson the first time with him.

I wish I had more of my shit together, but fairy godmothers aren’t real and it involves a shit load of work and time to change these things. I’m still determined, still working hard to be better, do more, live positively and strive for happiness.

I have promises to keep. And miles to go before I sleep… -Robert Frost


Day 12: Describe your most embarrassing moment.

I dug around through my blog trash in hopes I hadn’t deleted the original post about this most mortifying moment, but alas… 2010 was quite a year and there’s A LOT of shit to wade through.

So…

Oy…

Once upon a time, I was writing daily, pissing off the locals and slinging beer at a brew pub. I was single, sassy and my daily rants were going viral on the regular. I went to work one night and settled in for the long haul. I looked up to see my past walk through the door, smiling.

The very first boy I ever had a crush on, in the 5th grade.

Oh my. The joys of living in a small town.

He doesn’t seem to have aged with the exception of having become a man since grade school. He’s masculine, pretty as hell and a wholesome guy.

Him and a friend sit down at the bar and look up for the first time, causing me to blush uncontrollably.

Fun Fact: I am actually terribly shy, which was awfully inconvenient when it came to being a server.

I walked over to say hello and saw his buddy furiously arguing with him.

Buddy- Dude, no. NO. Anyone but her.

Crush- Her.

I’m confused, but get them something to drink and eat, and wave as they leave me a huge tip and walk out the door. My friend comes running back and invites me to have a beer with them after work. I agree.

When I walked into the bar, I could see his friends eyes get wide. I was starting to get offended, or at least overthink why this guy was so opposed to me.

Me- Hey did I offend you or something?

Buddy- No, I read your blog. No offense, but I have to warn my buddy before he ends up there.

Me- Oh my…

I walked away, which is usually my response when someone (other than my best friend) says something to me in passing about it. He sent my crush over with a beer, like a modern-day peace offering. We danced, laughed and drank the night away until he ended up in a cab on his way to my house.

We were making out in my bed when he stopped, sat up and said…

Crush- I can’t do this. I love my wife.

I freaked out at the mention of a wife. Cried, kicked him out, you name it. Absolute panic and horror, at 3 in the morning when I’m not at my best anyway. He left and I went to bed, alone and glad to be.

Twenty minutes later, I was jolted awake by a knock on the door. I got up, put a robe on and peeked through the curtain. It was my crush… and his wife. I opened the door.

W- Can we come in? He said you were upset and I wanted to explain.

I was so fucking stunned I didn’t know what to do.

W- I want him to sleep with someone else. I told him to. I’m ok with it.

He looked as horrified as I hoped my face also conveyed on my behalf.

We have never spoken since, and I hope I’m never more embarrassed than I was that night, because I wanted the earth to open up and swallow me whole.

I am not about that swinger life. What’s mine is mine and I’ll break your hands if you touch it. If I want to share something, I will offer…but just like my panties and sex toys; some things are non-negotiable.

Call me old fashioned, but if I go to the trouble of marrying a man, it’s because I don’t want to share him with ANYONE.


Day 6: What are the 5 things that make you most happy right now?

It’s a shit day in the grand scheme of things. I wish this prompt came at a time I were feeling grateful, happy or hopeful. I sent an honest text and prompted another verbal slaughter from the man that was lodged in my heart for far longer than he deserved. Wiping tears away, I forwarded them to my Fancy and she said it best.

F- Ouch.

So forgive me while my bleeding heart drips on the keys as I type. I’m not happy and it’s incredibly hard to wipe the grief off today.

What makes me happy?

  1. My Fancy Best Girl. I regularly refer to her as my red headed security blanket and when I count my blessings I count her a dozen times, then a dozen more. This has been the hardest year and when my whole world tilts on its axis and I’m drowning, she reminds me who I am and why there’s not a soul in the world worth sacrificing that for.
  2. Exercise. This one will forever shock me, but I have finally found the magic behind sweating to the point of nausea. I like the sting of sore muscles that are getting stronger and if you can’t sleep, nothing knocks your miserable ass out like a few miles on the elliptical machine. CrossFit was too expensive and I had to quit, but it’s only inspired me to workout more at home. Misery loves sweat, trust me.
  3. Books. I stopped reading for myself when the Dumpling was born and it’s only in the last 6 months that I’ve picked them back up again. I’m too busy for a vacation and my personal life has been nothing short of prison, so Harry Potter it is. I forgot how much peace you can find when you escape in a few hundred well-worn  pages.
  4. Music. Yeah… some of it’s crippling and the tears running down my cheeks say this may not actually be one that should make the list right now, but even when you’re crying you’re at least feeling SOMETHING. Numb is worse than sad and there’s definitely no shortage of sadness motivating my playlist. I love showtunes, Top 40 and 90’s love songs, but Etta James is saving my soul these days.
  5. Mr. Dick Appointment. Bless his smoking hot heart, sometimes what you really need is a hot youngster to fuck the devastation and memories right out of you. He’s like an animated sex toy at my beck and call. I adore my vibrator but it can’t rip my clothes off and pull my hair. I sent him a text the other night, letting him know I was leaving the door unlocked and going to bed. I was tired, inspired and hopeful. My alarm clock will forever disappoint me after that. Lord have mercy… he reminds me exactly why I’m single and worth so much more than feeling sad. I wish I could clone him and hand him out.

What makes me happy, changes regularly. What makes me sad, has been the same damn man for too long. My children keep me going, my family sustains me and this list of favorites keeps me smiling when I’m more inclined to cry.

 


Day 1: 20 random facts about me.

  1. I spend more on yarn than makeup. Always will. While I realize that I should probably care more about learning how to make myself pretty.. I just don’t care AT ALL. I’d rather be ugly, with mittens.
  2. I apologize for everything. It makes one of my sisters yell at me… and you should hear her flip out when I apologize to her for her being mad at me for apologizing. Oof… I can’t help it. I’m still learning to like myself. (Sorry).
  3. I can’t wear mismatched socks. I don’t understand those of you who can.
  4. I don’t eat eggs because I had a violent stepfather who forced me to eat them until I vomited. He had a monumental effect on my life because I’m so careful not to inflict the same life long suffering on my children or those that are in my life. Don’t like it? Don’t eat it. I will cut a bitch defending your right not to.
  5. With a Catholic foundation I built for myself and Mormon roots that run deep into the heart of Utah… I am an atheist. I would love to believe in God, Jesus and all their friends… but I’m pragmatic and have suffered enormous trauma. Two things that make faith a whole lot less available. I have a serious weakness for a faithful man though. I don’t know exactly why, other than the sight of a man on his knees in prayer makes mine buckle. Go figure.
  6. Thread count is my religion. Call me shallow AFTER you sleep on some 1000 thread count Egyptian cotton. I dare you.
  7. I can’t love a man who hates tomatoes.
  8. Same goes for men who love Android phones. I hate them and I want to see those three dots from the man I adore. I’m an apple girl, through and through.
  9. Brewers yeast on your popcorn is not optional if you’re eating it at my house. It’s NOT called nutritional yeast, either. I’ve eaten it since I was born and this whole “nutritional” trend annoys me. I will re-label any jar that refers to it incorrectly.
  10. I quit CrossFit and I’m heartbroken over it. Between the $334 a month (for an hour a week) it costs and missing work, I was going bankrupt trying to be healthier. I’m really proud of myself for transitioning my workouts to home and determined to stick to my goals, even if I have to light a fire under my own ass. It cost me $1200 to lose 10 pounds and I gained them all right back as soon as I started eating again. Live, learn and lift.
  11. My best friend is my therapist. I owe her my life and all the good things in it.
  12. I believe in love, marriage and building a life with someone. That has taken a decade and is still painful for me to admit. I fell in love for the first time in my adult life last year and it destroyed me a whole lot. I didn’t like who it turned me into and I spent a year working on my character so that I didn’t deliver the same thing to some poor unsuspecting man.
  13. I’m happy. I work really hard at it.
  14. I sincerely regret getting a puppy… but I know it will all work out in the long run. Commitment is challenging for me and adding more stress to my life was perhaps not the best idea I’ve ever had, but she’s such a big part of what helps me breathe instead of scream, laugh instead of cry and cling to that last tiny shred of faith I have.
  15. I’m afraid of a lot. This year is bringing a lot of ENORMOUS change and I’m learning to just have faith and keep walking forward. Where we land doesn’t matter as long as we are together when we get there, right?
  16. It’s 4:11 AM and I got up at 2 AM to write. I’ve lost my ability to sleep again. Virtually anything that disturbs my sense of peace and tranquility results in me being exhausted. Yay for undereye concealer.
  17. My son hasn’t spoken to me in 10 years. My mother and one sister have a relationship with him and that precludes me from really loving either of them as much as I’d like to. I’m just being honest and fallible. I don’t think I’ll ever hear from him again. I was a damn idiot 10 years ago and I don’t blame him for bailing. I would’ve too if I could have.
  18. I’m stupid dramatic when it comes to my feelings… of which I have too many.
  19. I can drive anything, learned to fly a plane when I was 16 and use Google to fix or do anything I haven’t learned yet. I am incapable of asking for help until the whole dumpster is on fire.
  20. At 43, I’m still absolutely fucking things up left and right, but I come from a place of peace and reliability now, where I used to have such a chip on my shoulder and expect so much more from the universe than I was ever promised or “owed.” I don’t hitch my wagon to anything… I carry it myself.

Did I really agree to this? 🙂

 


Left on Read

ghosting

I don’t mean to… honestly I don’t. I read the messages when they chirp in. I just don’t remember to respond for a while… or ever. The first sign of stalking, the first inappropriate comment or out of context proposition, or after receiving an unsolicited dick pick… I ghost them all.

I don’t mean to be rude, but if I’m already feeling disrespected or annoyed, I’m done talking. That whole “Good morning, Gorgeous” crap they do now is not my favorite, either. After four days of receiving that text, what is there to say?

D- Good morning, Gorgeous.

J- Awwww, thanks.

D- Good morning, Sunshine.

J- Awww you too.

D- Good morning, Beautiful.

J- Thank you! Happy Tuesday.

D- Good morning, Pretty girl.

No.

Not just no. Fuck off with that. It’s annoying, generic and I can’t help but wonder how many other ladies are on these “Good morning” texter’s list. There’s also something unnerving about always being referred to by your physical appearance. I have some damn ugly mornings and I’m so much more than a pretty face. Now if he said “Good morning, you bad ass knitter. I’d have something to say. That guy is getting a date.

It’s difficult to navigate boy feelings when asking them to stop doing something other girls have encouraged. Some of you must love these early greetings? I can’t understand why, but to each her own. The last guy I was seeing was a constant fixture in my phone. Morning, noon and night, I was on the receiving end of a hurricane of compliments. The first three days were great… and then it got weird. If I didn’t respond within a half hour, he was worried I was mad and it became a discussion.

WTAF.

Texting is my preferred form of communication, but it can be a full time job with a boyfriend, or even worse if you’re dating several people at once. They have nicknames but I can never keep them straight and frankly the onslaught of digital love notes leaves me dry and angry. The quickest way to get ghosted is to inundate me with attention, novel length messages and phone calls.

I should spell that out from the beginning… and I’ve tried… but men listen as well as women do when we don’t want to. After a week of hearing those messages rapid firing into my phone, I set him to silent, a tiny moon pops up by his nickname and I forget he exists. This is why I don’t date locally… because running into them at the grocery store after you ghost them is AWKWARD. I smile at everyone, so when I’m caught mid-grin by the realization that the man glaring back at me is the weirdo I ghosted after a horrible date, I’m mortified.

Ghosting isn’t nice… but it works, dammit. Some of them reappear after a few months of silence, but that little moon is forever. The Heathen sent me 19 text messages yesterday and I’m sorry- but what do you think is going to happen when you harass someone with your interest?

Fess up… do you tell them you aren’t interested? Or do you vanish into the ether like me??