Excuse my tiara…

Sweet Baby Jesus… this man will be the death of my single life.

I’ve worked a week straight and I’m happily tired but paying bills left and right, filling up the refrigerator AND!!!! my sweet mama hired someone to build me the garden fence to end all fences. It’s spectacular.

Life is beautiful- and my co-dependent nature has been unleashed. He texts me consistently. He compliments me constantly. He spoils me fucking rotten with genuine goodness.

My lovely daughter has been carving words into rocks all week. My mom loaned her a Dremel, and there are cute little love note rocks all over my house. She’s a crafty little off-shoot of me, and she’s on a mission to carve everything in sight. My dear boyfriend, who I’ve taken to referring to as Superman… showed up with the finest Dremel money can buy… complete with the fine detail extension thingy. He walked in smiling, begging me to not be mad.

S- Don’t be mad. She needs it.

J- Don’t spoil the baby. You don’t have to buy her anything, she’s going to like you just fine, because you’re a really good person. You don’t have to buy her a Dremel.

S- I’m not spoiling her, I’m encouraging her creativity.

The look on her face was priceless. Wide eyes. Silence. She walked over and hugged him.

R- Oh. My. WORD. Thank you… can I open it?

He opens it and sets her up and she’s a carving dynamo- laughing over the variable speed and rejoicing in her endless supply of diamond tips. He’s happy and smiling and kisses me goodbye, telling me… yet again.

S- You’re beautiful when you smile, and if I can make that happen all the time it only benefits me.

Yeah… he’s that guy. The one armed with nice words that he actually means. Finally my penchant for a sweet talker has landed me in heaven instead of hot water. He takes out the trash. He wants to fix my car. He helps the guys building my fence. This man is the best person I’ve ever met.

I had to work again and he offered to hang out with my daughter, but it’s still early on and she’s in carving bliss… so he goes and asks if it’s ok if he comes over a little before I get off work. He has a surprise for me.

I went to work, grinning at my happy reflection and embracing my new-found girlfriendness. I love being attached. I thrive in domestic partnership. I’m happiest when I have someone to care about- and he’s the most worthy man I’ve ever met.

Work is another slice of heaven. Happy customers and co-workers I adore. Compliments from the chef on my efforts as a server. I couldn’t love a job more if I were making six figures. Every day that I go to work, I pinch myself. At the old place I worked, if you needed help or asked for it, it was held against you as a personal failure. My boss was not helpful, regardless of the fact I was earning HIM money. He couldn’t be troubled to pause from texting to get out of your way, let alone help. He loves to stand next to you while you’re putting an order in and question you on all the tables in the room, without knowing if they’re your table or finished or whatever. It was a fucking nightmare. My new boss? Loves to help. They support us all wholeheartedly without question, and offer help whenever it gets busy or we get several tables at once.

I work with a smile on my face because I’m supporting a business that supports me… and what a difference it makes. I’m happy going to work. I don’t dread working with either of my bosses. They want to buy vegetables from me, because they’re smart and want to provide their customers with the best.

The biggest shock? My unemployment was denied from my old job because my SISTER told them I called my manager a cunt.

You know what? She is a cunt. That’s the gospel and they’re all full of shit if they don’t admit to saying and feeling the exact same way. To hear from the lady at unemployment that my SISTER was the one who took food out of a house her niece lives in? Deal breaker. I have nothing for her but contempt- and she can enjoy every suffering second of working with that cunt for the rest of time for all I care. She’s not welcome in our lives, and I can guarantee it’s a huge loss on her part. We’re thriving… while she’s still under the thumb of Miss Cunt Bag. More power to ya, sis- enjoy.

Me? I go to work looking lovely and clean. Dressed in black and surrounded by friends. Working with a group of people who are savvy professionals who know what management is. Blissed out while serving the best food in town. Amen.

I worked a slow shift last night, and counted the seconds until it was over purely because my dear Superman was cooking up some sort of surprise and the curiosity was killing me. I rushed home, excited to sink into the haven of the man I adore.

I drove in and the house was dark… and it was nearly 11 so I figured he may have fallen asleep.

Nope.

I opened the door and walked in to rose petals. I had to laugh a little… and followed the path to my room… where he’d recreated American Beauty on my bed. Thousands of pink petals (my favorite) candles burning everywhere and my sweet Superman… nearly asleep on my bed.

My God in heaven… I was speechless.

He grinned at me, sleepy quiet and happy to see me.

S- It seemed like a good idea but it was kinda cheesy after it was all said and done.

It’s not cheesy… it’s perfect. He’s amazing. I’m walking in from my first week at a new job that I love more than any job I’ve ever had, to the most amazing boyfriend I’ve ever heard of… and best of all?

He’s mine. ♥

I look back over the last month, in losing people I thought were my friends, in losing my closest sister, and a job I loathed working for people who couldn’t give a shit less about firing a single mom for taking dinner home and calling a spade a spade. I look at the douche bags who’ve used me to mop the floor and the stupid boys who would dare to fuck with the wordy princess. Nathan, Thomas… and good old James… I’ve really met my quota, and I’ve really offered my love to the wrong men.

But.

I found my Superman…. and I appreciate him like he deserves. I appreciate how amazing he is because I know what the other side of the coin looks like all too well. It’s one of those good old fashioned love stories… where the nice girl meets the nice guy and they live happily ever after.

Excuse my tiara… but when the perfect man insists you be treated like the princess you always wanted to be?

You smile, thank him graciously… and blow his damn mind with diamonds in your hair.

Forgive my slacking in blog-land… but I’m busy being the happiest I’ve ever been.

Fairytales do come true…

They say “She who laughs, lasts”… hmmm… well all I have to say is I’m downright hysterical.

I found my forever. I know it when he looks at me. He sees me picking up something messy and moves to take it out of my hands. He carries heavy things for me. He pulled my trash can in from the end of the driveway…

He met my mom and my daughter today and they both liked him. Honestly he’s a lot like my ex-husband… as odd as that sounds. I actually told him…

J- You’re really going to get along with my kids’ dad.

R- Huh?

They have similar interests. They’re both rooted in a foundation of integrity. They both love a sweet set of subs and they could bond over paintball wars. They would be friends. My mom loved him. My baby girl got high centered on the mower, he helped her and she gave him the stamp of approval.

He doesn’t have his own children, but he was clearly born in the wrong century, just like me. He’s 6 years younger than me. He’s absolutely every bit of my type down to the letter, while being a true blue Ward Cleaver kinda perfect boyfriend. He opens every door for me, including to the car. He stands when I get up from the table. He walks on the outside of me. He holds my hands at the table. I’m sad my Grandpa didn’t meet him to see that I finally got it right.

I deserve every delicious ounce of this amazing man. Breakfast, lunch & dinner dates… a million laughs and sweet gentlemanly respect.

Anybody can be a hoarder. It takes a real man to be Superman.

He hugs me and I know he would kill anyone who would harm me with his bare hands. He’s silky smooth and shiny bald. He has perfectly manicured nails, a beautiful smile and eyes that sparkle at me. He even blushes sometimes when I grin at him.

I’m so happy I’m getting hit on by strangers.

I stopped at the gas station to get a soda and some change for my work bank and the guy behind the counter stood up a little straighter.

G- Well hello there miss, what can I get for you? Going somewhere fun?

J-Yep, work! Can you break this change for me?

G- Like you’re breakin’ hearts?

Uhh… awkward. He’s hot… but who the hell cares. Not me. I’ve come to the promised land and I have my very own Prince Charming. I left smiling, and flew to work. Walking in, one of the guys smiles at me and says…

T- You have a beautiful smile. Seriously- like you’re lit up from the inside. Thank you for bringing your pretty happy smile to work with you.

It’s because I am lit from the inside out and stupid crazy about the RIGHT guy for a change. OMG. Write it down.

Mid shift as I’m waiting for a table, he comes walking in with his mother. She’s wonderful, he’s smiling and I’m red as a raddish. He grins at me, blushes…

R- You look beautiful, how’s work?

Any man who compliments you in front of his mother is one worth bragging about, but this man is nothing short of worth rambling on and on about… obviously, lol. Watching him visit with his mom is right up there with seeing him holding a newborn baby. He’s a genuine gentleman and treats the women in his presence like they ought to be.

He tipped me $60 and told me to call him if he could help me with the garden the next day. All I could do was grin. He leaves me speechless- which is truly saying something for me.

This new life of mine is full of everything I ever wanted. A new job with a boss that treats me with respect, but also like a friend and she genuinely wants to know our opinions. My new co-workers are nothing short of a team of new girlfriends/sisters. I know now, just how horrible my last job was- and more than anything? What an asshole my old boss was. I’ll never let some pipsqueak chauvinist control my financial stability EVER again and I’m sorely tempted to send them a thank you letter for not wasting another minute of my time helping people who don’t appreciate the backs their business is built on.

Never. Again.

I’ll never date an asshole either, never another douche bag. I’ll never be cheated on again.

I far prefer this fairytale princess gig I’ve got going these days. I like being treated like a lady, both by the man in my life and equally as much by the people I’m working for. Miss Faith, a dear friend of mine and co-worker, smiled at me yesterday and said…

F- You’ve come so far. You’re not apologizing for everything anymore. You aren’t running around trying to accommodate everyone at your expense and you are living the life you want, doing the things you need to change your life for the better and look? It’s obvious, and you are much happier. I’m really proud of you.

True story.

When I stopped trying to keep the world happy and I changed the things in my own life that made me sad?

I woke up to my very own fairytale, complete with my very own Prince Charming.

Make wishes on stars, pray for the things you really want… but most of all? Have faith in yourself and DO SOMETHING about the things that make you miserable. Even baby steps add up, and after a while? You’ll be running miles in the life you always wanted.

Ten inches off the ground

I’m happier than I’ve ever been in my life. A month ago I was scared to death, pissed off and on the damn warpath. Washing my hands of the worst parts of my life and the people that made it harder.

Pausing. Gardening. Breathing.

Finding happiness in being alone. Swimming in solitude and realizing that I like my own company and being alone doesn’t have to equate to being lonely.

Burning a few douche bags & whores at the stake, and deservedly so. I don’t have time in my life for people who don’t give a shit about their character, honor and self respect. If someone doesn’t give a shit about their own personal worth? Why on earth would I? How on earth can anyone?

I’m worth so much more than a vagina hoarder or a Thomas Murray. I don’t like mice… why would I ever try to love one- or worse, think I could change a rodent into a man?

While I have a broad skill base- I don’t have a magic wand, and if I did? I wouldn’t waste it on a douche bag.

I washed the smell of hoarder off my hands and met a brand new girlfriend in the process. We bleached our hands together- and laughed when we realized that ultimately the Karma fairy is a funny woman, because in feeling betrayed you see a whole lot clearer than you do when you’re blinded by charm… or bullshit. We’re a lot alike <shocker, lol> and it’s going to be fun spending time with a new girlfriend.

So she lost a cheating boyfriend, and I lost a friend. The two of them deserve each other and my new girlfriend and I deserve better. It would have been sad if it hadn’t happened. The Karma fairy finally put her foot down and set us both free. Phew. Clever bitch that she is? She gave them the ultimate punishment. Each other. Lol…

But it gets even better. As it does when you’re striving to live your life well and trying to find peace in yourself instead of in any outside force or vice. I forced myself to stop and change everything. New job. Bike rides after dinner. Time spent in the garden and knitting. Getting rid of the excess garbage in my life, including people.

and I finally agreed to a date with my girlfriend’s brother… and was absolutely stunned by the most amazingly thoughtful man I’ve ever met, as a result.

He’s not just a little nice- he’s damn amazing.

I deleted all my internet dating profiles. I closed my little black book and threw it away.

I changed my relationship status on Facebook… and we all know it’s legit once that happens- because it’s damn hard to take that shit back.

He’s a male version of me. He’s thoughtful and offers to help me, compliments me and spoils me rotten with kindness. He calls to ask if I need anything from the grocery store- offers to drop off anything if my daughter needs it while I”m at work. I’m still at work after 11 last night and he offers to come over. I’m exhausted… but I’m also dying to see him. I tell him I have an hour before I’ll be out cold… and he laughs at me and tells me he’s just happy to see me.

I’m falling asleep when he comes in- and I don’t have the energy to fake it. I have on the most ridiculous outfit you’ve ever seen. My pink cupcake sweats, my “I’m on the naughty list” t-shirt and polka dot socks. I’m weary and yawning.

He walks in like the angel he is in my life. He brought another movie for me to watch if I’m exhausted the next day. He climbs on my bed and pulls me into his lap, laying my head on his leg while he massages my back- asking how my first night was.

I’m sleepy rambling about how much I love my new job, my coworkers… and just being treated like an adult in general. A whole different level of respect and actual management with a solid team of people all determined to work together to make it as good as it can be. His hands are running strong soothing paths down my spine. My sore muscles are melting back into squishy goodness as he asks me questions and tells me about his day. He’s easing the stress in my body while being emotionally supportive? I’m counting my lucky stars, and telling him just how thankful for him I am…and I fall asleep.

I woke up this morning, tucked in with a love note, feeling bad about falling asleep on him and thankful that he exists.

I promised myself I wouldn’t date. I climbed out of the pool…

But I’d be a damn fool if I didn’t do my best to be equally as wonderful to him as he is to me.

Life is looking pretty damn spectacular these days.

The Karma Fairy can be pretty damn amazing when she wants to be, and when you deserve it.

Like a hate song…

It’s not very often you get to sing along while you read a hate blog… right?

Let’s just call this a special occasion, celebrating a new contributor who wishes to remain anonymous.

Everyone knows you reap what you sow… but you might as well sing while you’re reaping.

I hate you like a hate song
It’s been said and done every ugly thoughts been already sung and i guess right now here’s another one so your melody will play on and on with the worst of em’ ….
You are ugly like a  douche come alive in reality… a loser, a liar, it’s a miracle…
That you’re still alive today…
…and i want you to know BABY…

Chorus:
I, I hate you like a hate song like a hate song baby…
I .. I hate you like a hate song baby,
I..I hate you like a hate song baby…
and I wish you the worst, worst, worst, worst, worst.
I , I hate you like a hate song baby
I, I hate you like a hate song baby…
I, I hate you like a hate song baby.
and I wish you the worst, worst, worst, worst, worst.

Constantly, boy you played with my heart like a psychopath…
There’s no way to describe your depravity.
You just mess with me. That’s your move?
And it feels like I’ve been rescued. I’ve been set free.
I was hypnotized, by  dishonesty-
You’re despicable, horrible, miserable…
You are.
And I want you to know baby…

…Chorus…

Noone compares, you stand alone- to every douche bag I’ve known.
Music to my heart, that’s what stats are-
A number that climbs on…. and on…

…Chorus…

Oh my… now that THAT is a Disney channel hit I can get behind.

:)

 

Occupied

“Don’t let someone occupy space in your heart or in your head who never deserved a second glance”- ♥

Bottom line? I knew better.

More than that? I was warned.

Worse than anything? He bought the domain name vaginahoarder.com lying next to me with the intention to sell numbered t-shirts and coffee mugs.

That should have been the last time I wasted my pretty green eyes on him…. but it wasn’t.

Call me an idiot, a glutton for punishment or tie it up neatly with a cute little humiliating bow.

It was amazing every time I was standing right in front of him. He’s thoughtful. He’s sweet and charming and you feel like the only thing on his mind… until you drive away and someone pulls in to take your place on sheets still hot from your devotion.

I got a call from a girlfriend this morning. He propositioned her last night. That’s how much my words hit home. She told me because she didn’t want me to hear it from anyone else, and what she said next really made me feel better for the first time.

S- I realized I could take advantage of him for free drinks. I knew I could flirt with him and he’d pay for my whole evening. It just wasn’t worth it because I love you and you’re amazing and he’s absolutely unforgivable.

I got off the phone and laughed. For the first time it really hit me. He’s really that awful. He’s really that worthless and he really cares that little about the sweet women that get caught up in his web.

Speaking of webs… my darling Anthony called to read me The Spider & The Fly. I seriously have the best friends, ever.

“I’m sure you must be weary, dear, with soaring up so high; 
Will you rest upon my little bed?” said the Spider to the Fly. 
“There are pretty curtains drawn around; the sheets are fine and thin, 
And if you like to rest awhile, I’ll snugly tuck you in!” 
Oh no, no,” said the little Fly, “for I’ve often heard it said, 
They never, never wake again, who sleep upon your bed!”

Mary Howitt knew him or at least of the horrible spiders he patterns his life after. So did I, for that matter- because it’s one of my favorite books. I climbed out of bed this morning and went looking for it.  Laughing over the pictures and brimming with my own life coursing through my veins while Anthony read me his favorite highlights and I watched the sun come up.

Like it or not, this arrogant man has occupied a space in my heart that I couldn’t eradicate him from. I’ve tried. I’ve dated, I’ve flown thousands of miles and still thought about him on the shores of paradise island with the man I thought would be my someday husband. I’ve done everything I could think to do, to shake this horrible crush.


The Spider turned around about, and went into his den, 
For well he knew the silly Fly would soon come back again: 
So he wove a subtle web, in a little corner sly, 
And set his table ready, to dine upon the Fly. 
Then he came out to his door again, and merrily did sing, 
“Come hither, hither, pretty Fly, with the pearl and silver wing; 
Your robes are green and purple — there’s a crest upon your head; 
Your eyes are like the diamond bright, but mine are dull as lead!”

So I should thank him, because he did what I couldn’t do. He made me hate him so much I will never look him in the face again.

I wont settle for a hoarder- ever again. I will never take his infidelity personally. I will never contribute another dollar to his existence.

More than that?

I will thrive in his absence. I will blossom in my new life and new job, surrounded by dear friends and a bunch of new ones. I’ll make getting over him look so good it’s cruel.

The difference between him and I is that I care about my character and the effect I have on people around me. I love deeply and treasure the people who respect and return those feelings. I’m not happy with myself when I sink to the level of a douche bag or a friend who would ever consider going near the guy who mopped the floor with me. Twice. I’m working my ass off to be more positive, to fill my life with good things and to be contagiously happy to the people around me. I want to be nicer. I want to steal the nasty words out of the mouths of the people who hate me. That’s my goal and he only drags me further from realizing it.

So I got hurt. So my heart got tossed into the fire, again… that’s not all that went up in flames.

He’s laughed and introduced himself as the hoarder. He’s mocked me to my face. He’s 86′d me for using his name when it’s his own damn fault everyone already knows who he is.

I was raised to write a thank you note when someone has done me a favor, and this is probably the best one anyone has ever done for me.

Dear Hoarder,

Thank you. For all the disappointment and tears I’ve wasted on you. Thank you for showing me, once and for all- that you’re not worth any of it.

Thank you for showing me who my real friends are. Thank you for showing me who isn’t. Thank you for fucking the worst of them.

Thank you for making Thomas Murray look like a nice person… you make my whole Puerto Rican nightmare lapse in good judgement look like a Make-A-Wish trip to Disneyland.

Thank you for 86′ing me from your presence. I’ve been a glutton for punishment and you’ve just saved me from myself. If you meant it as an insult, perhaps you should look in the mirror and take stock of your flawed character. I appreciate it more than a dozen roses- and let’s be honest… if you sent roses to all the women you owe them to, you’d have to sell your car to cover the bill.

Thank you, a million times over and then some. For whatever reason and perhaps it’s my own flawed character rearing her ugly head- I learn lessons the best when they hurt the most. You may have broken my heart, but you made me a fortune in the process. Hoard on, hoarder.

I loved you. I thought you were a really amazing man. Thank you for showing me how wrong I was- and thank you for not falling in love with me. I deserve so much better than you.

You may have disrespected, discounted and underestimated me… but when I insulted you? You bought the domain. I’m just sayin’…

Might I suggest a tattoo? Cause you’re kinda known for being a hoarder now, and that’s got to make hoarding a little difficult. Perhaps you should just run with it, because you clearly have a second set of balls where your soul should be.

Thank you, for showing me just how bad a man can be. Thank you for teaching me what the bottom of the barrel looks like.

Oh and you’re welcome.

Your friends like me, your dog loves me and the women you lie to, read my blog.

Good luck, and thanks again- I’d say I owe you one, but I’d rather leave you with an ironic bit of truth you don’t know about me.

My legal first name is actually Ashley.

Peace out- motherfucker- and really… go buy yourself a chin.

And now dear little children, who may this story read,
To idle, silly flattering words, I pray you ne’er give heed:
Unto an evil counsellor, close heart and ear and eye,
And take a lesson from this tale, of the Spider and the Fly.