And So They Met

How She Met Her Father, Part 4.  See Part 1, Part 2, & Part 3.

Two months had passed since her graduation.  Against all expectation, he had actually shown up.  Late – sneaking in a side door once the ceremony had already begun – and empty handed, but he was there.  Afterwards, waiting out back of the school near the parking lot, sending in his youngest child, her half brother, to get her.  Awkward side hugs, awkward small talk as if they had known each other from years ago.  Since then, her sisters requested visits more often, explaining “Daddy wants to see you, and he’ll meet you at our house.”  Sometimes he was there already, clutching a beer.  Sometimes they would call him once or twice, then have to pick him up from whatever friend’s house where he had started drinking.  Sometimes, though not often, he would already be too drunk to make it at all.

A Name Changer

It happened. A day I thought I would never see, a day I thought I would never have, a day that until within the last year I never thought I would want.

Boyfriend was acting very strange lately. I was catching whispers between him and his friends upon entering rooms, immediately followed by failed attempts to appear normal and quick “nothing” responses when I casually ask what’s up. He became secretive with his cell phone, constantly texting away and even putting a pass code lock on it. In my usual fashion, I went straight to paranoia. Here it is, that bomb I’ve waiting for that is going to destroy this whole world I’ve been living in the last year and a half.  I don’t question that he loves me. I don’t think for a second that he would hurt me. But I still always have that little voice in my head screaming all my worst fears and all my past experiences.  In his usual fashion, he read my mind and squashed my concerns by casually tells me about putting passcode on his phone after leaving it unattended at work and coming back to find someone had been messing with it, as well as the conversations he has been having with his family about my Christmas gifts, since I’m apparently very difficult to shop for.

Saturday Nights

She checked herself in the rear-view mirror.  Smooth down the stubborn twist of her fine brown hairline at her right temple.  Touch up her cranberry lipstick.  Make sure her bra straps are hidden from view underneath the silky fabric of her dress.  It was a new dress she’d never worn before and with her shiny black heels, she felt confident and attractive.  The sidewalk to the restaurant would be her own personal runway.  She grabbed her matching black clutch from the passenger seat before sliding out and making her way to the door.

The restaurant was crowded, typical for a Saturday night.  The young hostess smiled warmly at her.  “Just one, or are you meeting someone here?”

“Just me,” she replied.  “I’ll just take a seat at the bar, if that’s okay.”  The hostess nodded and she made her way to the right wall of the building where the long, dark wood stretched before glass shelves with bright lights illuminating all the different spirits.  She put her clutch on the bar and popped herself up into one of the elevated leather stools.

“Drink? Menu?”

She raised her eyes to the face of the bartender in time to see his own gaze shift quickly from her low cut neckline to her face.  Her cheeks felt warm from the attention, but her intent with this dress was obviously on point.  “Just a vodka tonic, thank you.”

New Year, Old Me

Another year gone.  This anniversary.  That anniversary.  Another birthday passed.  Cycle of holidays.  The end of one era.  Sadness and failure.  Acceptance and moving forward.  New friends.  The start of a new era.

I ruined someone’s life in this year we’ve just left.  Not carelessly, not permanently, but for a short time, I know it felt to them that I did.  I didn’t mean it.  I did everything I could to avoid it.  But 2 years of denying the inevitable and thinking it was easier to make myself miserable than to have someone else be unhappy at my expense took a toll on me.

It was hard.  I felt like I didn’t even know who I was anymore.  I had played this character for so long, I couldn’t remember what or who was buried under the mask of false acceptance.  I was broke.  I was alone. But it was my decision that had me there.

Sometimes, A Funk Will Happen

I’ve been in a funk for a few days. I’m blaming it on the fact that I have ovaries who hate me, but in reality, I just do this sometimes regardless of PMS. I haven’t figured out why. It’s like the little voice in the back of my head mocking everything I do and reminding me of all my doubts and fears with a PowerPoint presentation and pen light just takes over control of my whole brain.

It makes me second guess everything. Everything I do, everything anyone around does. It makes me paranoid of secret motives and lies. I can rationalize throughout the barrage of endless negativity, telling myself I’m being, for lack of a better description, borderline insane. I think that’s the worst part. I know as I’m going through this whole process that most of what’s going on in my head is unfounded and illogical, but it doesn’t actually stop it from happening. Truth be told, I’ve yet to find anything that can stop it.

The second worst part is having to try to explain it away to people around me. “Lets play it off as PMS. Lets just say it was a long day and work was tough or I’m just exhausted. I promise it’s not anything you’ve done.” But how do you explain to someone who doesn’t go through something similar that every now and then, your mind loses control a bit? That once in a while, you somehow turn on yourself? I also have yet to find a successful way around or through that.

When “Broken” Turns to “Damaged” & How I’m Turning Back

The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong in the broken places. –Ernest Hemingway

Love is impossible.  For some, it is impossible to find.  Others, impossible to keep.  And others still, impossible to forget.  Then there are those like myself.  Those few that find it impossible to feel.  This final group, the one in which I fall, are all liars.  Jaded minds with broken hearts that dispute the reality of love.  I will be the first to admit this.  Love was felt once upon a time, or the idea of love that looked so promising, only to be ripped away, leaving this carcass behind that questions and preaches disbelief of all things romantic.  The trouble with this is not that we put on false faces of disbelief.  The real problem is that after a while, we don’t even realize that it was false to begin with.  That little spark deep in our guts gets permanently extinguished after so long of being snuffed out.  That becomes the accepted reality for us: we are incapable of love – or better yet – of being loved.

Dating In The New World

I received my divorce papers back in the mail today – mostly completed.  A small part of me feels that this tiny little oversight of a missed signature was done intentionally to draw out the process even longer, but I will continue to remain cool and collected.  At least I did finally get the majority of it back completed after months of waiting.  But my focus in this post will not be on the childish antics of an ex.  Upon making the decision to go through with a divorce, I knew things needed to change.  Not just in my living arrangements or marital status, but in myself.  I needed to put myself out there and start taking risks.  No more standing on the sidelines watching other people chase happiness and fun, I needed to be running with the bulls myself!  But there was one little hitch…I’m completely lame.

On memories, beginnings, lonliness, and no plans: This is not the end.

I need to be painfully honest.  Not with someone else – with myself.  I’ve tried to avoid it, because even though I already know what I need to say to myself I know it is still going to feel different once it is said.  I’ve sat down handfuls of times in an attempt to write.  To write a post, to write on a story already started, to write literally anything, and I ended up staring at my computer screen for endless minutes before getting frustrated and closing it all out.  I know it’s because my head is clouded with all these unspoken things, these things that I’ve been trying desperately to un-think.  But the truth is, these things are there.  Whether I allow myself to think about it, whether I fight in an attempt to not have to face the facts, they are there and they always will be.  So here I sit, pecking away at my keyboard because I know I need to man up and do it already.

February Blog Challenge – Days 18-28

I know, I know.  It isn’t even February anymore.  However, I have legitimate reasons for being so far behind.  I am a great daughter and have been caring for my mother while she recovered from surgery.  Granted, that’s just since the end of last week, and before that I have no excuse.  Anyways, I’m going to do my best to just finish a damn month here.  🙂

Nugget #4: Hey, Leno, Lookie Here

True story: one of my dearest and oldest friends finally found her Prince Charming.

Match made in Heaven -> got serious fast -> he popped the question -> she planned a beautiful intimate wedding on his parents wooded property -> I planned a pretty kick-ass bachelorette party for her -> wedding went great -> happily ever after

Why is this unusual or funny?  My dear friend’s maiden name: Little.  Her husband’s surname: Wiener.

Welcome to the Little-Wiener wedding.  If only she had decided to make this legal…

Dress hanger from the bridal shop

Then again, Mrs. Wiener is still funny enough on it’s own.