i am dumb

Well, fuck me, but I am a stoopid woman.  This is going to be hard to explain, but for those willing to do the math, Man-Friend and another person I blog about are the same person.  I can’t be more specific than that, and I can’t say it outloud because he could lose his job over it.  I think it’ll be evident who it is in a second, but anyway, without the information that they’re the same person, this story will make no sense.

Okay, so Man-Friend was over last night.  He brought over Army of 2 and played it on X-Box Live with this other guy that he plays with a lot.  Sounds like fun for me, right?  Actually it was because they’re just so damn funny with the stuff they say and do, so I was thoroughly entertained.  Afterwards, we made a Taco Bell run (I cannot believe I ate Taco Bell at midnight, but it turned out okay when I weighed this morning) and watched a little tv before going to bed.

This morning, we did our thing and then we were talking.  Somehow, and God help me, I can’t for the life of me remember how it happened, we got on the subject of feelings.  Oops.  See, the thing is, we weren’t supposed to have those.  Remember when I first brought Man-Friend onto my blog?  I wasn’t sure what to call him since he was only going to be kind of a fuck buddy (hey, first clue that I am dumb!).  Man-Friend was suggested and I took it because it sounds so much nicer.  The point is, I’m a girl, and I ended up with feelings.  Dumbass.  It’s not like I wasn’t warned.  My sister, Anjelica, and even M-F himself warned me.  We talked about it the night we discussed our Pros and Cons lists – one of his cons was he was worried that I might get “crazy attached”.  That sounds so fucking arrogant, but I guess if you’re not looking to get attached, you might worry about the other person attaching.

Wait, I just remembered how it happened.  He keeps telling me I could do better and that I’m slumming with him and all that kind of shit.  Or that I could meet a doctor and end up with him and all sorts of crap like that.  I keep saying nah.  Finally I was like, “Look, you keep trying to give me outs, and so we’re going to play a math game and see if you can figure out what this adds up to.  I don’t want this imaginary doctor.  I don’t think I’m slumming.  I don’t think I’ll get bored with you (this is another one he says).  What do you think all that means?”  Duh.  I still had to spell it out as in, “I did the thing I wasn’t supposed to do.  I got attached.  I like you, not fake doctor guy.”  Well, duh on me, he already knew that.

So then we got on the topic of him.  He said, regarding himself and anything relationshippy, “I’m an ass.  I told you I’m an ass.”  Oh, he also said he was sorry.  I told him, “I just don’t understand how you can be the way you are with me (meaning all cuddly and hand-holdy and having fun and texting me all the time and all that shit) and then not be at all attached.  How do you do that?”  He refused to answer, saying that it would only dig his grave deeper.  Then later he said that he never said that he wasn’t attached.  So what the fuck do I do with that?  You’re either attached or not, and I personally think that if you are and the other person is too, you might have something to work with.  Maybe that’s just me though???

And here’s where we get to the merging of M-F and this other person.  On Monday, he had asked me if he made me happy, and I said yes, except for the leaving part since he leaves town to move back home in ten days.  I can hear the lightbulbs snapping on right now.  I asked him if I made him happy, and he said yes, except for the part where I don’t cook, heh.  So this morning, I asked him why he asked me that question.  He didn’t want to answer at first, but he finally did, saying, “I wanted to see if I was more to you than another notch in your bedpost.  And for the record, you’re more than a notch to me.”  That sounds all well and good, but then we got on the subject of his feelings.  I was like, “I’m more than a notch, and you admit to being at least a little attached.  So why can’t you admit that you might just like me a little teeny tiny bit?”  And he proceeded to cover his face with pillows.  Fucking ridiculous.  Then he said he was emotionally repressed and that he would understand if I didn’t want him to come over anymore.  Oh yeah, and earlier he had said that his plan was to make me hate him before he left so that it wouldn’t be so hard on me.  Apparently, everyone who knows about us keeps telling him how hard it’s going to be on me when he leaves.  Duh, of course it’s going to suck!  Pissing me off isn’t going to make it hurt less – it’s just going to piss me off.  I didn’t say anything at first to the whole “I’ll understand if you don’t want me to come over anymore” comment because at that point, I was so upset that I felt like I needed to think about it.

So I thought for about five minutes while he convinced me I needed to hurry up and get ready to go skate.  And here’s what my fuck-tard self came up with:  He’s not telling me anything I didn’t already know or that I wasn’t warned about.  It’s just outloud, that’s the only difference.  So I walked over to him and gave him a hug and told him it was okay, and that I still wanted him to come over.  And he said NOTHING.  *screaming inside!!!*  So I go, “Does that mean ‘no’?” And he said, “I didn’t say that.”  Exactly, but you didn’t say anything at all.  What the fuck?  So then he took my hand and we went downstairs so he could get his game and hard-drive, and then I walked him out.  He gave me a kiss and a hug.

So yeah, I’m fucking confused.  I know that he, on some level, cares about me.  I know that he is, to some degree, attached.  I know that he can’t say it.  I don’t know what to do.  Oh also, he normally texts me a lot on nights that he’s not here, and I haven’t heard a word.  I’m afraid to text him and get ignored or worse, so my phone is off limits at the moment.  The thing is, I always knew how this would end up when I found out he was moving.  He was never going to do a long-distance thing with me.  It’s just not practical, and I’m not sure I would want to do that either.  But what the shit is this?  Damn it, I hate this.  I hate not knowing what I should do.  I hate not hearing from him (dude, you’d think the least he could do is text “R u ok?” – he does that after a bad day on the ice, and this morning was way worse than that!).  I hate not knowing what he’s really thinking.  He has just confused the utter fuck out of me.

Now, on the more hopeful side of me, I know people get hurt like this all the time, and I know we recover.  I’m 38 years old and have yet to have a successful relationship, but some part of me is willing to keep trying.  I wish this one would give me a chance, but if not, I’m not going to drop out of love-life stuff.  It might take me a while because I really like him.  God, the real suck of it all is that he’d get along so well with my family.  FUCK!!!  And now I need to cry again.  Shit shit shit.

Okay, I’m fine now.  I hope this post made some sort of sense (and if not, welcome to my world!).  I’m super-confused and upset, so I know I got stuff out of order and whatnot.  I just hope it’s readable.  

UPDATE:  I know y’all are waiting with baited breath for updates on all this bullshit, but twenty minutes after I posted this, he started texting me.  What to do, what to do?


So last night D asked me why I had gotten divorced.  It’s been a while, and I had to think about it because there were about eleventy billion reasons and not all of them were good ones.  Some of them make me kind of ashamed of myself and I’m embarrassed to admit them.  Some are too private – some even too private for me to admit to myself, if that makes any sense.  Some of them make you go, “Well, duh, you should’ve been divorced about ten years before you were!”

I almost broke up with Ex before we even got married.  We were in Chicago for the wedding of one of his best friends, and Ex spent the entire weekend fucked up beyond belief.  Clearly drinking in general doesn’t bother me.  Drinking excessively on occasion is fine too.  He wasn’t an occasional heavy drinker.  He was an always heavy drinker.  Like so heavy that a few times he didn’t wake up to pee and I got hit in the back with it.  Uh gross, that’ll wake you right up.  Anyway, back to Chicago … he was totally blotto, and I didn’t know any of these people, and he kept leaving me alone.  I’m painfully shy, so I wasn’t happy with that whole situation.  Plus, I was pregnant, so I couldn’t just join in all the drunken revelry.  That may have contributed to my being so sensitive about the whole damn thing.  At one point, he went off with this chick he’d gone to high school with, and they were gone forever.  They came back holding hands – to clarify, they were coming back holding hands, and I ran into them.  Um, uncomfortable doesn’t even begin to describe how that felt.  He swore up and down that nothing had happened, and really I didn’t care if anything had.  What I cared about was that he left his pregnant, shy girlfriend alone but was perfectly content to go off for over an hour with stupid high school girl.  That’s not cool.

I ended up going to bed alone that night, and he stayed out with his friends.  The next morning, the first thing he did (and I seriously mean first thing – he was still in bed) was reach over for his flask and start drinking again.  You know, hair of the dog and all that.  Ick.  I was like, “Motherfucker, is that how this day is going to start?”  Needless to say, it was another bad day. 

The next morning we left Chicago, and the whole plane ride home I was thinking, “I’m going to have to break up with him.  He treats me with absolutely no regard, and I’m not going to live like this.”  Thirty seconds would go by, and then I’d think, “But fuck, I’m five months pregnant.”  When we got home, I went to bed even though it was only like two in the afternoon, and I think it was about three days before I spoke to him again.  I’m not sure if he noticed!  But I knew I was too chicken to leave, that I was going to marry him anyway, and that no good would come of it.

I stayed for nearly eleven years because I’m stoopid like that.  It wasn’t all bad, but the bad stuff was things like I never had help with anything – like I was responsible for all the house stuff, making appointments, cleaning, laundry, etc etc.  If something needed to be done, I did it even when we were both working, and even when I was working and he was in school for like only twelve hours a week and had time to help (which was why it was funny, for me anyway, to watch his house stuff completely fall apart after I left – it was like, see, do you finally know all the crap I did for you???).  It was a lack of help to the point of he’d leave socks on the floor in the living room and not bother to grab them and put them in the hamper at some point.  I could leave them there for weeks, vacuuming around them, and they weren’t going to move unless I moved them.  That’ll wear on you after a while.  I couldn’t stand to eat in the same room as him because watching him eat made me nauseous.  I couldn’t stand for him to touch me.  He quite literally made my skin crawl.  He would say, “I love you”, and I would say, “Uh-hunh”.  And yet somehow, when I finally grew a set and said, “I’m done, I’m outta here,” he was surprised.  Completely clueless.  He later said he had been unhappy too.  That’s fine.

But the main reasons were that I didn’t love him and I wasn’t attracted to him.  It wasn’t fixable, and I never should’ve married him in the first place.  You have to wonder if I learned anything from it, and I think I did.  I know not to get married again unless I actually want to marry the dude.  That’s a good lesson.  I know not to get married to someone who pees on me.  Kind of duh, but true.  I know not to get married unless it’s going to be an actual partnership.  That’s why I think it’s really important to live with someone before you marry him – though I did live with Ex.  I just ignored all the signs.  So I know not to ignore signs.  I know I don’t want to get remarried anytime soon!  If I do it again, I want it to be right and I am not ready for that just yet.

I’m so dumb that I thought if I weren’t registered to vote in the new county that I live in, that I wouldn’t get called for jury duty.  Nope.  They do it by driver’s license here too.  Fuckers.

I’m getting out of it though.  I called my mom and was like, “I’m walking in that room and professing my life-long zealous hatred of cops.  They’re over-grown, out of control hall monitors, and I think they suck and everything they say is a big fat freaking lie.”

She goes, “Oh, you don’t have to do that.  You’re my primary caretaker.”

Ooohhh, that’s right.  She’s a transplant patient undergoing a face lift on the tenth, so I’m out of commission for the county.  Sorry suckas!  Don’t worry, she said that a) they won’t question it, and b) if they do, we can get proof.

I guess we’ll have to wait until the next time they call me for me to go on my cop rant.

So I had my first group lesson in ballroom on Monday.  It was … interesting.  They lined us up with the women on one side and the men on the other, and the women rotated through the men so that everyone danced with everyone else.  We had No-Bones-Guy who was like dancing with marshmallow goo.  I could sqoosh right through his frame.  Next was Sweaty-Palms-Guy.  No explanation necessary there, but ick!  There were two guys who counted outloud.  I can kind of understand that because when I’m working on an ice dance alone, I do count outloud.  When I’m with my coach though, there is no counting outloud.  So I vote that when you dance with someone, you count inside your head.  There was also Bore-Your-Eyes-Through-the-Back-of-My-Skull-Guy.  He freaked me out.  I thought I was feeling a little violated until I go to the last one who was Hi-I’m-Wearing-a-Gallon-of-Cologne-and-I’m-Going-to-Stare-at-Your-Boobs-the-WHOLE-Time-Guy.  Ack ack ack!  I was like, “Hey, Fella, eyes up here!”  But I didn’t have the balls to say anything to him.  It was horrible!  Now if I’m being generous, I might say it wasn’t entirely his fault that he stared at my boobs because that’s about where he came to on me (and, hello, I’m only like 5’4″ or so!).  However, he did occassionally pop his head up and look at me with this total Lester the Molester grin.  Then sure enough, those eyes would drift back to my boobs.  Gaggers.  And these people expect me to come back for more group lessons.  *shudders at the thought*

In other news, I was right about D not doing anything about that whole situation from last Thursday.  Everything is back to normal.  Though I have to say it’s kind of like normal with a twist.  Sunday was not at all normal.  See, I really realized what I had done what with the ass-grabbing and all, and I could NOT look him in the eye.  I could barely say “hi”.  So I spent the entire practice avoiding talking to him or being within 50 feet of him.  Can anyone say “awkward”???  Gak, it was just awful!  I think in the entire practice we exchanged four sentences.  Once it was over, I hung around for about thirty seconds so as to not give the impression that I was fleeing the scene, but that’s precisely what I did.  Monday was another very professional lesson.  I had my new skates on for the first time, so we were spending the whole time doing things to get a feel for the boots and blades, so we were quite occupied.  Tuesday he was teaching my friend Stephanie, so we talked just a bit when they were taking a break and then again when he was leaving, but it was all about my skates.  Tuesday night there was a little bit of sexually charged texting going on (it was about the cartoon chickitas painted on the bottom of my skates and very silly).  I’m glad we had that though because today was much more normal with comments about me arse sticking out all over the place.  He didn’t say things like, “Your rear end is in the wrong position”.  It was more like, “Get your ass down” and some goofy joke about my ass sticking out.  So that was good – much more relaxed.  I met him and J at the batting cages tonight and all was very normal.  I’m glad about that.  I don’t know – it’s so weird.  Normal but still weird.  I kind of hate it when someone knows that I’ve had thoughts about them.  But then again, if they don’t know, then they don’t know it’s okay for them to ask you out or whatever.  However, in this case, since he’s never going to ask me out, it’s just the big suck that he knows.  On the other hand, I know that he’s talked to people about this as well, so maybe he’s embarrassed too.  Or maybe, and I’m going out on a limb here, maybe I’m overanalyzing this and I need to get over my bad self and find my 42-year-old triathlete that I want.  Urgh!!!  But yeah, my final analysis of the whole thing is that he’s never going to do anything, and I’m not willing to put myself on the line like that, so I’m not going to do anything either.  Therefore, nothing will happen.  Okay!  I hope I’m done talking about this.  It’s really stupid!

So I woke up this morning and went downstairs to let the dog out of his crate (he sleeps in it, isn’t he good?  You may want to wait to answer that) and let him outside.  As soon as I opened my bedroom door, I knew something was very, very wrong.  Mmm-hmm, stench.  I got to the kitchen, and there was Magnus in his crate of poo.  Every surface, every toy, his bed, his blanket, and the dog himself was covered in liqui-poo.  He had an assplosion of biblical proportions.  Not only was all that other stuff covered, but the poo had spilled outside the crate and was on my kitchen floor.  I believe I’ve mentioned before how I feel about kitchen cleanliness – yeah, mine needs to be washed in kerosene now.

 Anyway, I got the dog outside and went about cleaning the crate.  A smart person would’ve said, “Hey, I ought to take this crate outside and go after it with a hose.”  Well, you know what?  I hadn’t had caffeine yet, so I thought, “Hey, I just have to get on my hands and knees with a trash bag, dog bath wipes, dog accident spray, and paper towels.”  I’m very sorry for all the trees I unnecessarily used up on dog poo today.  I feel really bad about that.  It had to be at least a zillion.  I am so dumb!  Yeah, so rather than using a hose for five minutes, I was on the floor for almost an hour and I single-handedly destroyed half a rain-forest.  I’m going to hell.

Meanwhile, the dog is launching himself at the back door which is one of those doors that’s like ninety percent glass.  I was pretty sure I was going to have a dead dog by the end of the morning.  KABLAM!!!  Sit and pant.  Back up.  Launch.  KABLAM!!!  It was pretty disconcerting.  Um, oh yeah, he was also barking and crying.  This was apparently just too much for me because I ended up in a heap on the floor with my paper towels and dog accident spray, trying to clean poo out of the tile grout, crying hysterically and hyperventillating.  Me, hysterical over poo.  I have a kid.  I have cleaned up some disgusting bodily fluids (freshly puked parmesan is a smell that ought to be reserved for people like, gosh, I can’t think of anyone rotten enough.  Oh, OJ Simpson.  Okay).  I have never, ever cried like a two year old over cleaning up gross stuff.  You just do it and get on with your day.  Nope, not today.  I just couldn’t deal with this first thing in the morning.  It was a lot of shit.  Really, a lot!

The crate was finally cleaned to my satisfaction (for now – I think this weekend it’s going outside for a good general bath), and it was on to the toys and bed and blanket.  Anything that could be washed has been through the washer five times on hot.  So put me down for hellacious enviromental behavior in the category of water-and-energy-wastage too.  Fuck!  I hate it when I have to be bad like that.  Magnus’s bed was a loss.  There was just no way to clean it.  He was about twenty pounds too heavy for it, but he’s a Lab and therefore thinks he weighs seven, so he was still using it.  He doesn’t like his big-boy bed so much.

Okay, so the reason he had so much poo was his tummy is still upset from being boarded.  He seems fine now – he has lots of energy and his appetite is fine, but holy crap, has he ever got the farts!  Ack.  Gaggers.  I just wish he would’ve cried or barked or something so I would’ve known he needed to go outside before the whole incident.  Actually, I’m assuming he didn’t because I’m a light sleeper, and I feel like I would’ve heard it.  We’ve never had this situation before though.  Maybe he just didn’t know what to do.  Poor puppy!  Eeewww, maybe he did cry and I didn’t hear it and I’m the worst dog-mommy ever.  Oh, I hope not!!!

In other news, I got the call that my new skates have arrived in town (I texted my coach with this “Oh my gosh guess what jamie called and my skates are here and my fitting is saturday and i’m all excited and squeeeee!”).  As you may ascertain, I’m quite thrilled about this.  Seriously, when Jamie called and told me, I about fell off my seat.  And I was driving (*lectures self for talking and driving* but self answers back with “I was at a stoplight!”), so falling off my seat was really impressive.  I didn’t expect them for at least another month.  I must have been first in line when the Harlick people got back from vacation.  My order went in the day before they left.  So yeah, I’m a spazz.  I’m a little nervous too though.  I’ve never had dance blades before or a dance heel lift, so my weight will be distributed differently.  I’ve been such a mess all summer though that, you know, what the hell?  Why not get all the messy ugly stuff out of the way now?  I just hope I don’t make too much of an ass out of myself. 

Oh, and I almost forgot – I have my first ballroom lesson on Tuesday, yay!  It’s at Arthur Murray, so I wonder if they’ll have those funny little feet diagrams.  I’m such a dork that I would love that.

Note to WordPress again:  Spellcheck is not working though it did for one minute sometime last week.  Plz halp!!!

So you know that digital camera I just bought?  Utterly useless.  I just went on vacation and didn’t take one single picture while there.  I guess I’m out of the habit!

Stuff I can’t find:

1. My water.  I’ve misplaced it.  Once upon a time, I drank Diet Big Red constantly.  I used to lose those all the time too.  So the water isn’t special or anything.  I think it’s upstairs, and since I’m doing this right now, I don’t want to go up there and look for it.

2. The drill.  This is also reason number two of why I don’t want to go upstairs right now.  I have an unfinished project in my bathroom which is where I’m pretty sure I left the water and I don’t want to look at the unfinished-ness.  It’s not even started-ness.  I opened the box that the towel hanger is in, realized I needed a drill, and quit since I don’t know where it is.  “Garage” isn’t good enough.  I don’t want to dig.  I think that means I don’t really want to do the project today either.

Wait, I know where the water is!  It’s on my nightstand.  Mystery solved.  Nancy Drew would be … unimpressed.

3. My sister.  See, Anjelica went into labor last night, and Kim is my pipeline of information.  I can’t find her, hence I have no information.  In fact, since I didn’t check my middle of night emails (no, I don’t really ever do that), I didn’t know that Anjelica had gone into labor until late this afternoon because I was busy all day with the dentist and skating.

4. My right outside edge.  It comes and goes.  Perhaps it’ll come back tomorrow.  That is frustrating!  It was working very well last week though.

So that’s what I have lost for today.

Here’s the dentist story: I broke my nightguard last week.  I split the thing right down the middle of the left side.  Now, I don’t know if anyone but me was like, “wow, that is some awesome grinding and clenching you’re doing”, but I thought it was pretty amazing.  I had ground a bunch of holes into that side, and I guess they weakened it to the point that it just cracked.  Anyway, last Thursday I went to the dentist to get molds made for the new guard, but they called me on Friday to say one of the molds was distorted and we had to redo it.  Since I was in Austin on Friday, it had to wait until today.  In the meantime, I’m destroying my teeth all over again.  I woke myself up in the middle of the night when I ground really hard and my jaw slipped.  The sound was horrific.  Needless to say, I hope they can make this thing really fast.  Oh, it’s a new kind so it’s not supposed to break.  It’s made of a softer material than my old one which was some kind of acrylic or something.  Supposedly, it’s more comfortable as well, but the old one wasn’t uncomfortable so that’s not much of an issue.

Austin was fun.  All the plans we made were shot down by the weather though.  I bought a bathing suit so we could go to the Springs with the dogs, but it ended up being 34 degrees with sleet.  Not exactly tanning weather.  It’s weird, the last three times I went down there, it has rained most of the time I was there.  I control the weather.  Hunh.  Who knew?  Well, if that were true, I’d make it rain here more and then we wouldn’t be in a drought with sprinkler restrictions.  We’re only allowed to water once a week, and only during certain times.

The only problem with Austin was that we ate so much.  I am hugely bloated today, urgh!  So this is a major diet week.  Well, it’s supposed to be.  I have been in the Easter candy today.  The fact that I’ve allowed Easter candy in the house probably shows what a lousy dieter I am.  This is how bad it is:  I have five boxes of Hot Tamales in the secret candy drawer (uh, no wonder I need to lose weight!).  Oh yeah, they’re not wee boxes either.  They’re the big movie size that you get at Target.  Hmmm, I don’t want to put two and two together, but there it is … 

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