Signed, Sealed, Delivered...

We finally all agree on terms and conditions for a separation agreement. By "we," I mean me, my ex, and his attorney. I swear to blog 90% of the delay in this divorce has been HER, and what she "thinks" is "reasonable" for us. Um, yeah, "us." Anyway.

Got the final version yesterday morning. For a moment I felt panicked. This is IT, you know. It passed quickly, I signed the papers and talked to my secretary about notarizing them. Notarized, scanned, and emailed to my ex's attorney within minutes.

Suddenly, everything looked different to me. I opened my cell phone, which has a picture of the beach on Kiawah Island as the wallpaper. That trip stands out in my mind because I was attracted to someone else at the time and my marriage was tot.ally coll.apsing around me, and I had no idea how to stop it. I knew the other person wasn't the answer, yet my attempts to warn my husband of the dangerous and harmful direction the relationship was going were seemingly falling on deaf ears. I went with Tiny Panther, and spent a lot of time hanging out by myself and thinking. Coming the conclusion, ultimately, that this might not work, and we both might be happier away from one another. Realizing that it was highly likely he was just as miserable as I was.

When I looked at that picture today, it looked different. Suddenly I saw the marshy grasses and the sunset and the sand and the dunes and the ocean and the wet sand abutting the ocean for what they are, which is an incredibly beautiful and undisturbed part of the eastern seaboard. For the first time, that beach that I spent so many hours walking along wasn't cloudy and gloomy because of the sadness that tinged that trip for me - it was just the weather that day. That's all. That picture no longer held the symbolism or the reminders for me that it did just a few hours before.

The opportunities are limitless. Yes, I am sad that this didn't work out, but in retrospect, am somewhat shocked we held it together as long as we did.

It's a strange feeling to have nothing I am obligated to but myself. I haven't experienced that in almost eight years. It's a liberated feeling, for sure. There's so much potential all of a sudden...not that there wasn't potential in my marriage, but it's a different kind of potential, you know? GTIAGO could work out...that guy in the aviators I just passed coming into my office building could work out, LOL. I could move back to a ski town...I'm actually meeting with a former boss in Steamboat this weekend, though not (specifically) for that purpose. I could join the fucking Peace Corps! Start teaching yoga! Okay, you know what I mean. I don't have this weight anymore, of "not knowing" what might happen with the divorce. Now I just don't know what will happen with my life. Oddly, that's comforting.

I sat at my desk after I emailed the docs to my ex's attorney and wondered what I would do now. I thought about the refund I should be getting soon on my retainer from MY attorney, and all of the things I could do with it. I thought about the upcoming weekend and what perfect timing it is. I wondered if I am being a soulless bitch for keeping a (mostly) positive attitude throughout this process. I did have red hair when I was a kid...soulless gingerkid and all.

Then I decided, you are going to totally remember this day. You are going to totally remember the first person you texted after you signed (GTIAGO) and that you were chatting online with Leather when you received the email, signed the docs, and sent them back. You are going to remember telling her how nervous you were, and asking her to come to your office and hold your hand (joking!), and the someecard she sent you immediately afterwards about getting a wart removed from your ass that made you laugh so hard. How do you want to remember this day? Do you want to remember sitting at your desk, with your hands shaking? Or do you want to do something nice for yourself?

Hedonist that I am, I decided to take myself out to a nice lunch. I sent one final chat to Leather saying I was headed to Marlowe's and to text me if she wanted to meet up. I put some LMFAO on my iPod and put on my fake Coach sunglasses that GTIAGO bought me, and I made this beautiful day my bitch. I bopped down 16th to Marlowe's and ordered a sangria. Leather met me there a few minutes later, and we sat and talked and reveled in the sunshine and the men in suits.

And then I walked over to Victoria's Secret and dropped way too much cash on some lingerie and a tank top and a nightgown that I don't really need, but I want...ohhhhh, there's so many things I just want right now...

I have a feeling it's going to be a great weekend. If I can just slog through the next 26 hours...

No Laughing Matter

We've gotten to where we can joke about things, sort of. Divorce is not a common topic to discuss with your new boyfriend because it's awkward and all.

Yet it still keeps popping up because it consumes so much of your time (revising settlement agreements, anyone?) and thought processes. Even when the emotional wounds have scarred over for the most part, there's just the simple matter of logistics. And planning. And crossing your fingers and hoping like hell you don't actually have to go to court. And the reality of the fact that I am, technically, still married. And many of our mutual friends are totally and completely aware of that fact. And not everyone is thrilled that we are dating under these circumstances.

We were sitting on his bed, talking about where to go for dinner and our plans for the weekend. Big plans, closing weekend at a faraway ski resort plans, first "real" weekend trip together plans. I mentioned that hey, my divorce might actually be final, and not that we planned the trip for that reason (no, that would be my procrastination in using my one-day pass at this particular resort) but why not pop some champagne or something, if it happened? To new beginnings and three day weekends and fresh powder and seemingly endless patience. Why not?

Laughing, he tells me that I've been saying that for a while now, and he's beginning to wonder if I am ever really getting divorced. This was definitely not one of those joking-but-not-joking things, either, because as some of you know, this has pretty much been the fastest and easiest divorce in the history of the universe.

I tell him (again, kidding) that I'm not really getting divorced. That we're really having an affair, that I'm leading him on, that in my free time, I hang out with my husband.

"I knew it!" He says. "The one night a week you aren't with me, you are still married, aren't you!"

"Totally." I say.

And we both laugh.

And then, he stops laughing.

He takes my hand, very seriously, and looks me right in the eyes.

"This will never happen to you again." he says.

My smile vanishes and I am confused. Did I hear that right? "What?" I ask him.

He never looks away from me, never lets go of my hand. "You will never have to go through this again."

Out of seemingly nowhere, my eyes fill with tears.

I squeeze his hand, but look away. "I hope not." The tears disappear as quickly as they came and I smile at him. A little.

He smiles back. "Trust me, it won't."

And I hope, hope, hope that he's right.

Regardless of how "he" works out, regardless of what happens this weekend, how the trip goes, whether my divorce is final, if I have to go to court...for that moment, he made me see so much potential in this situation.

Isn't it weird, the people you meet and the things they say? It always blows my mind when someone says exactly what you want to hear, what you need to hear before you lose your fucking mind.

Why Facebook Can Bite Me

Okay, so, my settlement agreement seems like it is getting better, the yeast infection is gone, and the snow has (mostly) melted. Onward!

I blogged some on my old blog about how annoying facebook is for dating. Here is the FB story to end all FB stories.

So, GTIAGO was banging some 22-year-old for the last year, pretty much right up until he met me. The story *I* got (because we all know there are multiple versions of every story, right?) was that they had been "friends" for four years and then randomly started having sex about a year ago. He said she was a total pill popper/partier and they never dated, but would just hook up on occasion. He also said they had an "agreement" that if either of them met someone and started dating them, their little "arrangement" would immediately end.

Ha. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. I mean, I've done exactly what I just described. It's been a while, but I've definitely done it. Not for a freaking year, but then again, I have a short attention span. Anyway.

Cue to January, he meets me and we start hanging out a lot. We weren't serious then, I mean, I was totally dating someone else at the time. Several someone elses. So I didn't really worry too much about you know, whatever he had going on. At the end of January or so we decided we were only going to date each other, blah blah.

Then the phone calls started. At 4:00 am. And in my experience, you aren't calling at 4:00 am because you want to borrow a cup of sugar. Also in my experience, you aren't still awake and ready to go at 4:00 am without some chemical assistance.

And the texting! Ohhhhhh, the texting. You can only hear a text tone and watch someone look at their phone and laugh so many times before you have to ask, WTF is going on? And that's exactly what I did. He explained the situation to me and said he had just stopped calling her or answering her calls when we started hanging out. Um, a month ago. So she's still calling you because...obviously she's a psycho. But aside from that, you need to grow a pair and just call the biatch up and tell her you have a motherfucking girlfriend. Right?

So, he does. He calls her up, tells her he has a girlfriend, she can't call any more. She says okay. Then she texts him a few more times here and there (a random Friday night, also on St. Patrick's day) to see if he is going out to the bars. There was also one that said "you never come out anymore, you're so lame since you got a girlfriend." Classy.

Anyway, there were only a few texts from her and he didn't respond to any of them, so I'm still like, whatever. I figure eventually girls like that will just make an ass out of themselves and/or get over it and move on to pimp themselves out to someone else.

I was wrong. Next thing I know, she's friending him on facebook. Okay, whatever. I did have a momentary meltdown when that happened, but mostly kept my cool. I mean, I'm friends with guys I've banged on facebook. It happens. (And is a good reason NOT to friend people you date). So what? They're FB friends. I'm not in junior high. I'm not going to be neurotic about that.

Then shit starts showing up in my feed. First it's a comment on a picture he has up of this time that his car got booted. Her comment was lame, obviously she was there when the boot was put on, they were together, whatever, it was a freaking year ago, who gives a shit. I really wish I didn't even know this girl existed, but I'm still trying to be cool about this and all. I just really hate junior high drama bullshit.

The next comment she made was on a picture he had taken of her when she was getting up off a couch. In a minidress that showed most of both ass cheeks. That was so low cut in the back you could see most of her leopard-print bra. Think about that one. Getting. Up. Off. Of. A. Couch. In. A. Miniskirt. And the comment was definitely a subtle "hey remember how we banged" reference.

I don't want this shit in my feed. And on top of that, she's calling him (twice!) and texting him (twice!) at 4 in the morning on Saturday night. Get a clue, bitch.

I broke it down like this - dude, I have some serious baggage and I am not bringing ANY drama to your life, so keep yours out of mine. Deal with your shit. Obviously she didn't get the memo re: you're dating someone now, and obviously she didn't really mean it when she agreed to end your little thing when/if you started dating someone. Call her up and tell her you are in an actual serious relationship and she can't call you anymore, period. And while you're at it, please delete any skanky ass pictures of her you have up on your page. And don't call me until that shit's done.

So, he called her. She agreed not to make any more drunken coked-out 4 am phone calls, and he deleted his entire facebook account.

Priceless. And (hopefully) the final reason why facebook can bite me. I say final because I am hoping like hell I don't have to deal with anymore facebook drama now.

I am way too old for this. Really.

Nice...

My boss talked to me about my January billing (um, it was really bad) and was really nice about it, but I am trying to bust my ass lately, hence the lack of blogging.

It's blizzarding outside. No, really. I got a shitty settlement agreement this week that I will not be signing anytime soon.

I was on three different antibiotics back in January when I was on the verge of Darth Vader death, and have had a stupid yeast infection ever since. I think it's gone, and it reappears. I took advantage of the fact that I am working from home today to go to the doctor about it for the fourth time, only to find out it's DIFLUCAN-RESISTANT YEAST! WTF. I didn't even know there was such a thing. At least I didn't pick up chlamydia or something from GTIAGO.

Things with him are going well, we even had a semi-serious "where-is-this-going-want-to-have-my-babies" talk the other day. Random. But it went well. We're still both trying to be chill and just see what happens.

I have to sign my shitty settlement agreement before I can even think about that kind of thing, anyway. Right?

Getting By

One of the funny things about getting divorced is how clear it was, to everyone around you, that it was happening. Despite your best efforts to keep shit on the DL, it seems to me now that most of my friends have come forward to tell me they saw it coming from miles away. That I disappeared off the face of the earth for 3-6 months, depending on which friend you were (i.e. long-distance acquaintances got the axe first...then couple friends...then my BFF's....and finally, even my family stopped getting their phone calls and emails returned), that we weren't invited to certain events because the tension was just too palpable when we attended functions together.

The most telling sign of all, to me, came the other day when I was looking for a phone number in my call log to my cell phone. Now, those of you that know me know I am TIED to my phone. It's my planner, my way to check my email and facebook when I am out and about, my way to feed my texting addiction. I plan probably 90% of my life via texting. As I was scrolling through the call log, I noticed something odd. Under "received calls" there is a huge gap between November 13th and December 29th. I didn't "receive" a single cell phone call during that time period.

Now, we all KNOW that doesn't mean that no one called me. And it doesn't mean I didn't call anyone, either. What it means is that I didn't pick up my phone one single time when it rang for over a month. Just. Too. Much. Effort.

I look back on November and December and see myself about as tightly strung as I have ever been in my life. And I tend to be a slightly high-strung person. I look back and see myself, arms out to my sides, holding redropes and legal pads and gallons of coffee and wine and random singular cigarettes, in my skinny jeans that were falling off my hips at the time, grinning and tense on a never-ending tightrope. And if you look up close, the grin is really me gritting my teeth. I couldn't even look at what was on either side of me, or I'd drop the whole fucking mess. I didn't even KNOW at the time I was on that tightrope, ready to fall at any second. I think my dog is down below running around somewhere, and my dad (who I talked to the other day for the first time since December!) and um, maybe something like self-interest.

The interesting thing is that I don't feel regret for missing out on that time...I mean, I have always kind of looked at life as you know, you've gotta do what you gotta do to keep your shit together. One of the few nonjudgmental things I took away from a dysfunctional family environment, I guess. Because that's what I saw.

Instead, I feel excitement for say, a month from now. Because I can look back on November and December and palpably feel how much things have changed. How much calmer I am, how much more I am getting done at work, how much more involved I am in the lives of my friends and family. How much more positive my attitude is and how much more open I am to possibility.

And I wonder what I will think when I look back on now. You know, later. Because sometimes NOW seems so amazing I can't really imagine that it can get just a ton better. Then I think, but NOW is better than THEN, so it's still possible.

This weekend was amazing and so much fun. I will post details later but I basically did nothing demanding or trying whatsoever. Friday I worked kind of late then went over to GTIAGO's house and we went out to dinner, then chilled at his house with some friends. He and his brother are hosting this mondo annual theme party thing this next weekend (there's teams and competitions and they actually hire "beer girls" for this thing) so there were a ton of people around planning/talking about that. Boys! So silly. Saturday we literally spent all day in downtown Denver partaking in the St. Patrick's day parade and after-festivities...bar hopping, eating and drinking way too much, and finally getting on the bus back to Boulder at 10. Sunday we vegged, went out to breakfast, then went to dinner at GTIAGO's parents house with his brother and HIS um, girl that he's dating or something. I dunno, she lives in another state and they aren't exclusive or anything but she's here for a week. It's kind of odd.

Like I said, deets later. But super chill weekend for me. How was yours?

Yet Another Reason For Me To Boycott Arby's

Okay, so I was super slammed on Wednesday night and my options for dinner were Arby's or Taco Bell. Since I got my divorce papers at Arby's, I try to avoid it if at all possible, but if it's that or Taco Bell - I'm def going with Arby's!

It WAS the Arby's right across from CU, so I have to cut it a little slack...but so I pull up and the convo goes like this:

Arby's stoner clerk: Would you like a combo meal today?
Me: No thank you, I just want a small beef and cheddar sandwich
ASC: What size?
Me: Um, small?
ASC: Would you like fries and a drink with that? (um, wouldn't that be a combo meal?)
Me: Nope, I just want the sandwich.
ASC: Would you like anything else with that?
Me: No, JUST THE SANDWICH, thanks.
ASC: Pull up to the window and I will give you your total.

I pull up.

ASC: That will be $3.24
Me: (handing him four ones) hold on a sec, I totally have four cents...(hand him the four cents, turn to fiddle with my iPod. I turn back around and he is staring at me, mouth open) Um, what?
ASC: Did you have change?
Me: Yeah, I just gave you four cents.
ASC: (looks confusedly at his hand holding the four pennies, shakes his head) Oh yeah! You did. Be right back.

He comes back and gives me my sandwich. I ask for Arby's sauce. I pull forward and open the bag and it's the wrong fucking sandwich. I figured it was a lost cause at this point and ate it anyway.

Then I had softball, which again made me realize I am way too old for this...

Then I went home and soaked in a hot bath and went to bed. Woke up yesterday morning unable to swallow and sweating. Went to doctor for the fourth time in the last four months (WTF?!) and was told it was viral, so no antibiotics, but I needed oral steroids to bring down the swelling in my tonsils or else they can interfere with breathing. Lovely. It's only a matter of time before I start beefing up, you know, between this and the round of steroids I just finished taking for asthma...FUUUUUCK. I am literally never sick and feel like I have been sick constantly since the papers were filed.

There is good news though...I will hopefully have a settlement agreement in my hands next week, and the St. Patrick's Day parade (which is ALWAYS a good time) is here tomorrow in Denver...and if I feel up to it, I'll be hitting Beaver Creek again on Sunday.

Have a great weekend! I promise to catch up on reading/writing blogs this weekend!

The One Time I Will Look at Pessimism as a Postive Thing

I just had an ephiphany of sorts.

So, lately as I have been hanging out with GTIAGO more, and we aren't seeing other people, it's kind of freaking me out. I mean, even though we SAY we are trying to keep it cool and casual and not get too involved, at least until the divorce is over and I really *can,* it's obviously trending in a somewhat serious direction. Not like, moving-in-together-serious, you know, just more than casually dating.

I've been getting really nervous and uncomfortable about it, mainly because it's just such bad timing. And I feel like I am kind of a freak right now. I mean, I normally am a totally trusting and non-jealous-type person. Really. I mean, I honestly never worried about my ex cheating on me. And not because he's not super good-looking and charming and all that jazz, just because I kind of think, if someone IS going to cheat on you, what are you going to do about it? Or at least, that's how I used to think. I mean, if you find out someone is cheating, you dump their ass. Yes, it might hurt, but whatever. I kind of just think that any gain you might get from being so "on guard" and suspicious all the time is more than negated by the stress and strain and drama that kind of attitude creates in a relationship, not to mention the erosion of the other person's trust in you that occurs when you don't trust them.

Did that even make sense?

Lately I don't feel like a trusting type of person, at all. It sucks. I feel like I just need to be constantly suspicious of every little thing, so I can "catch" it if the relationship is going to go south, and bail before it gets too painful. Sad. And I know it's sad. I also know that if I don't get a grip on it, it can really fuck some stuff up. I mean, I've seen other people destroy their own relationships via such tactics, even though they were incredibly happy with the person they were with. And that's not what I want to do.

Anyway, I've been kind of worrying the concept over in my head lately, thinking about it a lot. I definitely have moments where I think, maybe I should just end this before it gets too complicated. Because I really think at this point we could still easily go our separate ways. Yes, it would sting a little, but not like it does when you are four, six, twelve months down the road, you know?

Then there's that little voice that tells me if I don't at least see what this situation has to offer, I will kick myself for the rest of my life! Dammit. Make the voices stop. Or at least agree on something...

I talked to GTIAGO about it a little last night. Basically he feels weirded out that I don't seem to really trust him, even though he's done nothing the slightest bit untrustworthy. We've had similar convos before and in the past I just always let him think I was a jealous type of person, because it seemed easier at the time than explaining all my bullshit drama and baggage. Last night I finally just broke it down for him - I just had a bad breakup and feel kind of silly for putting myself in a situation where I could have another one. And the more I hang with him, the more I like him - and the scarier that prospect becomes. So it's not him, it's me, and the timing of the situation, and all this baggage, blah blah blah.

I was talking to my BFF/roommate Tiny Panther this morning about it, we were just chatting about how hard it can be to let your guard down again after you have had a "traumatic" relationship experience. I mentioned that it's just a scary concept that in any romantic relationship, you are essentially either going to end up married (or at least commitedly partnered in some way) or break up. And there's a good chance the breakup is going to suck.

Then I realized that even if you get married, it might suck. I mean, I'm not saying my marriage sucked - there were definitely good times. But I, of all people, should know that just because something "works out," and results in some kind of long-term commitment, doesn't mean it's not going to go bad at some point.

From that perspective, it seems like I am equally likely to get screwed either way. So I may as well take the road that's the most enjoyable, right? Which is definitely continuing to hang with him and see what develops, rather than pulling out early in the interest of overactive self-preservation urges.

I realize that just sounded a little pessimistic and negative, but in a weird way, it totally helped me feel better about the situation, LOL.

One of Those Days

Yesterday was just one of those days. I was bored with my project at work and realizing it was going to take a lot more time than I initially thought. Another attorney that I desperately need information from was not returning my phone calls, and GTIAGO hadn't texted me yet to make plans like he does on 99% of Tuesdays since we started dating. Then my ex's attorney's secretary calls me to clear dates for mediation.

Um, we agreed over a month ago that we weren't going to do mediation. That she was going to draft a settlement agreement, run it by him, and then send it to me so we could get settlement negotiations started. WTF has she been doing for the last month? And furthermore, since when is it appropriate to call someone up and ask for dates for mediation without at least notifying them that, um, you've decided to mediate? She wouldn't do that to another attorney...and she shoudln't do it to me, just because I am representing myself right now, either. I was feeling pretty frustrated with the situation until I called my ex and he said he had no idea what was going on either. Then I just felt sorry for him. I mean, as annoyed as I was, HE'S HER CLIENT. He is paying her to do this for him. That just blows.

So, I was all excited to potentially have this wrapped up by the end of March, which is the earliest a judge can enter a divorce decree under the statute. Or at the latest by mid-April, when we have a court date set that neither of us are particularly interested in showing up for. March is looking highly unlikely at this point, unless she can pull something together and get it to me mid-next week. Given her past abilities to do stuff in a timely fashion, or even to know what the hell is going on in her own case, I'm not holding my breath.

I want this done. I want this done so I can get on with my life. Yes, I know it's going to suck to see that piece of paper that once and for all tells me it's over, but I want my life back. I want my name back. I want that piece of paper that finally tells me my old self is back, that I can call GTIAGO my "boyfriend" and sign my maiden name to stuff and not have to worry any more about whether I should still be putting forth effort to "fix" everything that went wrong in my marriage.

And I was pissed that someone I don't even know, let alone like, is able to make this so much harder for me and for my ex, too. Fucking attorneys.

Major sarcasm there, obviously.

GTIAGO finally texts me and we make dinner plans. I'm so stoked to be done with my day, sitting on the bus, knowing I am going to go jogging and then spend the evening with pleasant company.

Then my landlord calls. She has an official complaint from the HOA about my dog barking during the day while I am at work. Great. I tell her I will replace the batteries in his bark collar and try to keep him inside on days I know I will be leaving work for sure at 5. I don't know what else to do. I know he's just bored since my ex took our other dog.

I was so relieved to see GTIAGO and just be able to talk to him and know we were going to cook an amazing dinner and have a great night. As I am telling him, you know, I am glad to see him, today was rough, just ONE OF THOSE DAYS, you know...I pull my wallet out of my purse. It's upside down and all of my shit - change, business cards, stamps, a pic of ME AND MY EX - falls out onto the coffee table.

At that point, he looked at me very seriously and said, "just one of those days, huh?" And all I could do was laugh. Seriously? I mean, could one more thing please just irk me?

I'm sure it didn't help that I was majorly PMSing. I'm going back on birth control starting, um, yesterday, so hopefully that will help.

Gah.

Crazy

I've always been a little fascinated by women's reaction to the word "crazy." Mainly because I say it a lot, i.e., "that's soooooo crazy" or "you're crazy, girl." There's a lot of baggage associated with that word for a lot of people. Don't believe me? Make it part of your general vocabulary and stand back as women will react to a seemingly innocuous comment by turning red and saying something along the lines of, "what? Me? Did you just call ME crazy? How is that crazy?"

Some are more defensive than others. And I have a theory about it, that I posted on my old blog at one point. Basically that guys are hardwired to tell women they are crazy anytime we call them out for some bullshit. You see your guy at the club with some blonde rubbing all over his ass? (Yes, this really happened to me.) If you call him out, and he's a douche like the guy was that did that to me, I guarantee you he will say something like, "you're crazy, that girl was just a friend." Um. Okay.

I'm not trying to say all guys are manipulative jerks, here, just that I kind of consider the "crazy" line to be a generic, all-encompassing fallback for guys who don't want to deal with the realities and emotions of being in a committed relationship. When the woman's expectations differ from the man's, often the woman gets labeled as the crazy one for desiring what would otherwise be totally normal behavior on the part of someone you call your "boyfriend."

And some girls have been told this enough that they are sensitive and overreactive about the word itself, as I mentioned in the first paragraph. One thing I will say for my ex, he never really pulled the crazy card. Even when I was acting, well, somewhat crazy, say during trial preparation. But I do remember him mentioning that HIS ex was one of the sensitive ones...so much so that when he would teasingly sing "Crazy Mary" by Big Head Todd to her, she would react to it.

Which finally brings me to my point. Gah I am such a rambler. So Sunday night, GTIAGO and Tiny Panther and her boyfriend and I cooked dinner together, right, and just chilled at the house. Tiny Panther was in the shower, her boyfriend was upstairs, and GTIAGO were just sitting for a minute in the kitchen, talking. I had gotten all of our ingredients out and we had just poured some drinks. I was telling some random story and at the end, he said, "you're so crazy," then quickly backtracked, "I mean, you're not REALLY crazy, I was just saying like, the story was crazy...I definitely don't think you're crazy, just so you know."

In my mind, I was thinking the following: "wow, he's definitely experienced the girl who's defensive about the word crazy, huh?!" Amused, I said something along the lines of, "well, that's good, I mean, if you really thought I was legitimately crazy, that might be a problem for us."

Then I sat for a minute, thinking, but would it be? I mean, if he was serious, like, he really just told me he thought I was being crazy about something, would it matter? What would I do? Would I change my reaction, however crazy it may have been? Probably not. I would probably just take that as a sign that I should move on down the road and find a guy who didn't think I was crazy. And isn't that like, the number one mistake we make in partnering up? Instead of seeing the little signs along the way that scream to us that we're not compatible, and moving on to someone we might actually BE compatible with, do we instead hope the other person will see things OUR way? Will someday change and "get" us and we'll live happily ever after?

Or was that just me, LOL? Personally, I think THAT is the craziest thing...the mindset that somehow, someone else will be "it" for us, and that if they really care about us and love us, things will work out. Sometimes they just won't. And I have a waaaaaaay different attitude about compatibility and relationships now than I did even just six months ago. You would have thought I would have learned my lesson from the blonde ass-rubber (haha, ass rubber) but it appears it took me about five years more to figure it out. So, that's my deep thought for the day.

Totally off-topic, but how cute is it that GTIAGO texted me about 10:30 last night "kisses, gangsta!" Ohmifreakingah. I'm pretty sure it's cute guy speak for "thinking of you, goodnight," or something.

Stalker

Okay, so this totally blows.

I just started a new blog and now I have to end it already. I have a stalker. Evidently my former username is the #1 search term directing *someone* to some of YOUR blogs. So, that, to me, means that this same person (whoever could it be?!) probably is running searches for YOUR NAMES (i.e. my lovely and talented readers who leave comments!) in order to locate my next blog. Um, this one. And he'll probably continue to run searches on YOUR names to find ANY blog I create for a while, until he finds something better to occupy his time. So, once again, I'm not going to be posting for a while, and maybe at some point I will start another blog, and email you all to let me know the scoop.

Crazy how this isn't really that different than the time my mom found my journal and read it and asked me about the things in it, forcing me to stop writing from ages 16 to 28. I hope YOU, stalker, are happy. This is my only creative outlet and for the second time in my life it's been ruined for me. Thanks. Thanks a lot. Now I'll be forced to turn my angst inward and start carving my arms or something.

Okay, sorry, that was out of line and totally inappropriate. But I'm fucking pissed. And suddenly aware of how fucked up my life is. Fuckity fuck fuck fucking FUCK.

I've Finally Discovered My Bitterness

I've been wondering when the bitterness sets in. You know, that angry, irrational part of divorce that makes women turn into men-bashers and/or depressed and pathetic homebodies? I saw my mom go through it. I've seen other (usually older) women go through it. Pissed that they can't live in their own homes anymore, that they have to sell their cars, that they are stuck with the kids most of the time, that the men their age want 20-year-olds.

I've been lucky. I still have the house (of course, it's a rental), I still have my car, he's not asking for any money from me, we don't have kids, and so far, the actual divorce process has been pretty smooth and amicable. I've been out with two 26-year-olds, a 31-year-old, and a 37-year-old, and they were all super chill skater-type dudes that were easy to date and deal with. I joined match.com for a free trial and got so inundated with email that I got overwhelmed and didn't respond to any, canceling my trial two weeks into it.

Everyone kept telling me my time was coming, that at some point the shiny newness of being so suddenly unencumbered would wear off, and I would realize that divorce sucks.

But most of the time, the lack of the previously-almost-constant tension and stress that surrounded my home life was enough to keep me going. The feeling that I was finally free to be myself, and not constantly trying to meet some unattainable and unknown "standard," kept other, potentially more negative feelings at bay, or at least overruled them when they came up.

But I have found something that completely, totally, and I have to say, irrationally, pisses me off.

Talk of weddings and babies.

I am unfortunately at the age where a lot of my friends are getting married and/or having their first/second kids. I'm going to be honest and say every time I see a facebook status message or a blog post about ordering flowers, picking bridesmaid dresses, finding out the sex of the fetus, or how so-and-so finally went pee pee on the potty, I want to vomit.

I know it's incredibly selfish of me. I know also that I should be celebrating the milestones of my friends and family, that children are precious, weddings are sacred, and all that other bullshit.

I actually went through my facebook roster the other day and deleted a bunch of people that were not close friends who regularly post status messages about their babies. I am soooo going to hell. I just can't take it. Having kids was one of the things that I wanted out of my marriage, that I was hoping and planning for in the near future, and that I feel was unfairly taken away from me without anyone asking me what I thought about it.

It's interesting to me that this is the thing that bothers me the most, so far. I wasn't particularly in a hurry to have kids when I was married. I kept thinking, we will do it when the time seems right. And it never did. Which is part of the reason we are no longer together. But as I've started to date again, and seriously think about my future, the concept of my future kind of scares the shit out of me.

For example, I am not sure that I want to get married again. Ever. Before I got married the first time, I trended towards "it's an archaic and no-longer-necessary legal institution that was created to control women, and I want no part of it." I'm not sure what biological switch flipped when I met my first husband, but it was tangible. And overnight change, literally. I changed my name and everything! Ohmigah. Who was that girl? The issue of the name change was one of our worst fights, and in retrospect, one of the many times a chunk of my soul went missing and I should have said, "sayonara."

But even more difficult for me to face is the prospect of being an old mom. I'm 29 now, and while I know the conventional wisdom is that I have a good 5-6 years before I have to "worry," the fact of the matter is I don't want to be an old mom. I wanted my first kid by 30 at the latest. Of course, there were a lot of things that I wanted to be different by 30.

Then there's the looming concept of having to have, um, a father for the nonexistent kid. I was recently dating a really nice, really hot, really successful software dude that loved to snowboard and had great taste in music, movies, etc. He took me on crazy-expensive dinners and called and texted me regularly. On our third date, he mentioned that he NEVER wanted to get married or have kids, and it was an instant turnoff. Never? Really?!

And as much as I really like the current person I am seeing, who knows if that will work out long term, you know? Realistically, how likely is it that you will end up in a real relationship with the first person you had any "real" interest in after your divorce? I think to myself, even assuming this guy and I were to go on to become something "real," most people date for what, 2-3 years before getting married or doing something as crazy as having a kid...which puts me at 32, 33 before I can even consider it. And again, that's assuming I only date this dude and don't end up going through you know, the breakup, nursing my broken heart, spending time alone for a while, complaining to my friends about the lack of decent men, meeting guys that seem cool but two months later AREN'T, joining match.com again, hiding my profile again, and then maybe, maybe, maybe finally meeting someone else...and starting all over. Not to mention how many, many people get a year or two into a relationship, or even to the "will we or won't we stage..." only to discover some as-yet-unknown yet dealbreaking aspect of the other's personality....yikes.

This is where I usually start to feel a little panicky and/or ill, a) because I can't believe I just thought that far ahead about someone I am dating, ew, and b) I am imaginining myself pregnant at my 40th birthday party, bloated and sober while my friends dance on tables and frolic in the grotto pool. Wait, what?! Um, yeah.

So there you go. I found the thing that I'm bitter about. That I'm angry about. Someone took my sperm donor without asking me first.

I know, logically, that it's highly likely I will go on to meet someone else, someone better suited for me and better suited for um, actually living with me and being my partner and a father to my nonexistent kids. I've read the statistics that most people (I want to say it's in the 70's, percentage-wise) actually remarry within 2-3 years of a divorce! That seems crazy to me - of course, right now, the concept of marriage seems crazy to me. And, honestly, I don't think marriage is a prerequisite for childbearing. I never have.

Besides, I guess if it doesn't happen, I'll just travel a lot. Get some fake boobs. Spend a lot of time at the gym. And continue to hit on 26-year-olds. It's working for me so far.