Scarlet oh Scarlet

I've neglected you guys, I'm sorry.  The past few weeks have left me in a bit of a rut I suppose.  No no no, the love life is wonderful, I have no complaints.  Work is also going well.  I know you were all worried. 

The issue is when you go through an emotional divorce you set very standards for the people you are closest to.  You think that because you have endured your own personal hell the people closest to you will honor your new code of ethics.  And when someone breaks the code, you crash.  And then you start to think, "if I stop setting high expectations for people I love than I won't get hurt, again." 

I have an extremely close friend, we will call her Scarlet.  I would do anything for Scarlet, even hide a body during an murder, because that's what friends do.  In return, I just ask for some respect.  And when I say respect, I just mean holding the relationship close to her heart and considering my feelings as I do hers.  Simple enough, right? 

Well, Scarlet has recently joined the Big D club, and I'm not referring to boobs or penises, I'm referring to Divorce.  It's a club no one wants to join, yet so many people are coming aboard. 

What makes this world so wonderful is all the different types of people.  Scarlet and I both handled our recent divorces quite differently.  When I first realized my marriage was ending I went into mourning, and decided to chop all my hair off and get a god awful bob type hair cut.  Rule #1 NEVER cut your hair after your spouse cheats on you.  You will be left with some strange mushroom hairstyle and become even more depressed.  If you must get your anger out do NOT take it out on your hair, have a glass of wine and THINK first.  Scarlet on the other hand threw herself into her work and sort of vanished.  Or so I thought.

For those of you who have not experienced divorce, it's like mourning a death.  It's tough, there is no right or wrong way to go through this.  I took a step back from Scarlet and let her do her thing.  Because if I was to judge anything I'd be a hyprocrite. 

And then it happened.  I came home from work last week to discover Scarlet moved out the evening before and in with someone else.  Not only is Scarlet on of the closest people in the world to me, she's pratically a neighbor.  For the first time in months I cried.  I cried because I was hurt and hate to admit this I felt alone.  I'm really not a crier, it's a waste of bodily fluids.  But this just hurt.  Why would someone that you've been close to your entire life just pick up, move and not tell you?  Someone who you deliberately moved near because they wanted you there and vice versa?  Someone who you have always made a priority during your difficult times, someone who you have truly shown unconditional love to.  I understand life goes on, and my hurt is in Scarlet moving like a thief in the night and not telling me.  It's mind boggling. 

And so begins the next chapter in my life.  Finding a way to forgive and be happy for Scarlet, and truly living "alone" and finding my own path. 

Damn you blow up duckie

Last night as I was getting ready to count sheep, I turned on HBO.  They were playing clips of Pee-Wee's Playhouse.  Instantly, it caught my attention.  Pee-Wee had a striking resemblance to my ex, Peter Pan.  I regret to inform everyone, but I had sex with Pee-Wee Herman.  OH MY GOD. 

Instantly I began remembering the numerous embarrassing things Peter-Pan did during our "relationship" and could not help but think thank you Divorce Goggles, thank you for making me blind enough to look past his cheapness, his stupidness and his shortness.  Are those even words?  Regardless, WHAT WAS I THINKING?!?!

As I've said many times, hanging out with Peter Pan was exhausting, he would jam pack a "date" with visits to every Tom, Dick and Harry.  It was flat out annoying.  Which brings me to one particular date.  Because Peter was exceptionally cheap we rarely did anything that involved spending money.  This particular time, I had purchased Yankees tickets for Peter's birthday.  I must have been high when I did this, because this guy never even brought me gas station flowers, let alone take me to a Yankee Game.  But, I brought very expensive Yankee tickets.  It was, the hottest day of the summer.  So hot my thighs were sweating.  When Peter came to pick me up he informed me that after the game we were going to his friends 30th surprise party.  After the game???  Was he joking???  But instead of saying something I agreed.  We sat for the ENTIRE game, I sweat off about 20 pounds, and after the game we FIRST had to meet his other friends at the Mad Hatter in New York City for ONE friggin drink.  I was so sweaty I brought a tank top in the gift shop, washed my sweaty pits in the bathroom sink like a homeless lady and tried my best to freshen up.  Again, I must have been high. 

We arrived at the Mad Hatter, but his "friends" were not there.  Since we were only allowed to share a hot dog at the stadium due to the super expensive stadium food, we also had a quick bite at the Mad Hatter.  At this point, I would have rather gone home to sleep off the heat exhaustion.  Instead, we headed to the surprise party in Holmdel. 

When we arrived the surprise party was in full mode.  After all it was already 11PM!  The girls were either in the pool, or had freshly applied make up and were wearing cute little sundresses.  I looked like I should have been skimming the crud off the pool with the pool boys and clearing the garbage from the bathrooms.  This my friends was a not so fresh moment for me.  I had no bathing suit and was wearing jean shorts that looked like I peed myself and a grimy tank top with a baseball hat.  Hello ugly girl.  Peter Pan was wearing his token old man Docker shorts and an ugly Tommy Bahama shirt.  Of course by this point in the party everyone was drunk, and they kept trying to get us to swim either in our birthday suits or fully clothed.  I was doing neither.  These people were just as nuts as Peter Pan.

And then it happened.  As I was taking a sip of my Mojito to shake my heat exhaustion off, I saw what is forever embedded in my brain.  Peter Pan in the pool fully clothed sitting in a child size floating duck yelling "Honey look at me, I'm in a duckie."  I wanted to drown him.  The fact that he could fit in that stupid duck is embarrassing enough, the fact that he was floating in it well speaks for itself.  And that is when my divorce goggles were ripped off my face.  Seeing a "grown" fully clothed man floating in a blow up duck is a major reality check.  And I personally do not want any man that I am involved with doing anything with a blow up duckie, ever.

Seems like a lifetime ago

As I had my nose to the grindestone today at work I stumbled upon pictures that were saved on my computer.  They were from my married days, Lucifer, me and his family on my deck in our home in Howell.  I wanted a home more than anything, I wanted to host holidays, parties.  I wanted the white picket fence, with the children and the dog running in the yard.  I was too immature to realize I was with the wrong man to have all these wonderful gifts in life.  I looked into my eyes and I saw how unhappy I was.  Immediately, I was taken back to a very dark time in my life.

This particular photo was taken in July 2008.  We were hosting a big barbeque with his family.  My parents only lived 15 minutes away, and I wanted to invite them as well.  When I told Lucifer I was going to invite my parents he snapped.  He called me selfish, a bitch, inconsiderate.  I couldn't understand what his problem was, and instead of defending myself I just agreed to not invite my parents.  I cooked like it was the last supper, and I did it with major guilt.  I can remember quietly crying as I was preparing for what was suppose to be a fun event. 

When things like this happened, I would question Lucifer's faithfulness quietly to myself.  But I never dreamed it would happen to me.  I mean my parents have a wonderful marriage, I went to church on Sunday's, I never stepped on the sidewalk cracks, that would never happen to ME.  Never.  I was wrong. 

The morning of our party Lucifer's sister called me to see if there was anything I needed.  I always liked his sister, despite Lucifer's disapproval of how she chose to live her life.  I asked her if she was bringing her boyfriend and she was thrilled that I invited her latest loser of a boyfriend.  After all, this guy was dating Lucifer's sister, was around our neices and I felt it was important to have the ex con come to our event.  I really thought I was doing the right thing.  When I hung up and told Lucifer I invited his sister's boyfriend, Lucifer snapped.  He begain throwing things, and screaming.  He then glared and me and told me to enjoy "my party" and left.  That's right, he left me to have a party with HIS family.  Instead of me standing up for myself and leaving as well.  I just stood there and cried.  I felt trapped.  I was married to the devil himself and I believed I was stuck for eternity in hell.

Lucifer was big on mind games.  He returned about an hour or so later and acted like nothing was wrong.  I on the other hand, had a major knot in my stomach and felt ill.  Living on eggshells can be exhausting.  Looking back at this photo today made me smile.  It made me appreciate of where I am now, and made me thankful that Lucifer is now someone else's problem. 

We all make mistakes in life, the important thing is we learn from them and build a solid foundation.  Occassionally I have the urge to randomly text Lucifer and tell him to fuck off.  Sometimes I do, I feel when a spouse cheats on you, you are allowed to do this until you are fully healed.  I lost that urge for the random fuck you texts in South Beach.  When I wasn't working, I was spending my time with a really great guy.  I don't know what the future holds, but I know right now I'm content and I'm happy.  Two emotions that I haven't felt in a very long time.

STOP!

I would like to ask all my wonderful, amazing friends to stop getting engaged and having babies while I start rebuilding my life.  Is that selfish?  Ok, alittle I guess, but for the first time in forever I'm feeling out of sorts.  I'm in a good place, I'm happy, but I feel like I'm "falling behind."  All the crazy "what if" questions have been creeping in my head.  Life isn't a race, enjoy it a YOUR pace.  I guess, but there are times where it gets overwhelming when you feel like you are constantly being punished for making the biggest mistake of your life, marrying Lucifer.

Once Lucifer admitted to cheating the marriage was never the same.  It died, he was shut down emotionally before, and this was just the icing on the cake.  He would fall asleep every night with facing the TV with his feet where the pillows were, so yeah his feet were in my face.  There was no romance, because the thought of him touching me made me sick to my stomach.  I tried to forgive, but the anger and the hurt was just too much, it was overwhelming.  We tried marriage counseling, but I believe with my whole heart that Lucifer was never truly sorry for cheating, he was sorry for getting caught.  To me, his infidelity was earth shattering, and left me feeling like a total failure.  I had a very difficult time wrapping my brain around why someone would do such a thing. 

Even after his infidelity, Lucifer wanted to have children, and I thank God I was never that dumb.  I knew a baby was not the answer to fix this broken relationship.  So we got a dog.  A cute, little 7 pound Boston Terrier, Diesel.  I had my reservations about getting a dog at first, because I knew in my heart that my marriage was ending.  But once I laid eyes on Diesel I fell in love.  Instantly, this little puppy became like a child to me.  He slept in his crate for about 3 nights and then slept next to me, in the middle of Lucifer and I.  I started taking Diesel everyplace I went, buying him clothes, toys, I spent more money on this new little guy than on my house, Lucifer, anyone else. 

Lucifer was either "working" or sleeping on the floor downstairs watching Sports Center.  I quickly began to throw myself into my new obsessions:  Diesel and working out.  The days turned to months.  Lucifer and I were growing apart and I was too afraid to truly see this and move on.  I was only 33 years old and felt like Mrs. Roper.  Why you ask?  Well, we never had sex, ever.  We never did anything together, and we fought all the time.  The only difference is that Mr. Roper loved Mrs. Roper.

I lived in a dead relationship for too long.  And now I am finally healing from that.  Letting my guard down, and truly trusting someone is extremely difficult.  Even peeing with the bathroom door unlocked and cracked is difficult when I'm with NL!  I have my work cut out for me, but after careful consideration I'm slowly letting the walls come down with NL.  Please continue to cross all body parts.

On a side note, and to end this - I had girls night on Friday.  I ended the evening sick as a dog and annoyed, because for the first time in a very long time I realized I would have rather been with NL, than on my knees puking my guts up.  Am I growing up, or is this something else?

Joan of Arc

Peter Pan used to ALWAYS compare himself to Charlie Sheen, although I never saw the resemblance.  Charlie Sheen is a wacko, but Peter Pan is well just a gay nerd to be blunt.  Let's rewind to last year at this time.

I wanted to break up with Peter Pan more than anything.  Just the sound of his voice made me cringe.  But I had a dilemma, his father was terminally ill and after watching my own father battle cancer I didn't have the heart to kick Peter to the curb during such a dark time.  So instead I became my own personal martyr and stayed with Peter Pan.  As the days turned to weeks, just the sound of Peter's voice disgusted me.  I really tried to take one for the team, but Peter Pan had such a case of Napoleon Syndrome it was extremely difficult. 

When you are in love with someone you want to spend every waking moment with that person, regardless of what is going on.  I was never in love with Peter Pan, I was filling a void to be quite honest.  This epiphany came to me one evening after spin class while I was sitting on my couch covered in my sweat.  Peter Pan had just called and informed he he wanted to "stop by."  I can remember saying, "WHY."  Just like that, WHY.  The thought of having to take a shower because Peter Pan wanted to see me annoyed me.  I had no desire to see him, as a matter of a fact I was starting to hope he would lose my phone number.  But his dad was gravely ill, and I needed to be nicer.  So after Peter Pan telling me he needed to see me, I dragged my ass up the stairs, washed my armpits in the sink and took a bath in my Victoria Secret spray.  Classy, but I could have cared less. At this point, even Diesel thought Peter Pan was douche bag. 

About an hour later I heard my front door open.  Ugh my stomach began to hurt.  It was Peter Pan with Shop Rite bags.  WTF.  11:30 PM and this idiot was bringing his groceries to my house?  He started showing me all his bargains.  I started to realize just how cheap this guy was and it disgusted me.  The last thing I remember him saying was how the Shop Rite loaf of bread is just as good as Wonder and it was on sale for 89 cents.  He then started making himself an open face turkey sandwich with his bargains.  My God I hated this little man. 

Let me repeat myself, when you are truly in love you want to be with that person during most if not all of your free time.  If the opportunity arose to be with my friends and a bottle of vodka I was in, and not once did I ever give Peter Pan a heads up.  I partied like a rock star and came and went as I pleased, never giving a single thought to Peter Pan.  Looking back, I truly believe I was just too afraid to be alone so I kept Peter Pan on the back, back burner.

My friends and I had planned a big 80's night party.  I planned my outfit right down to the pink hair, I couldn't wait.  Since this was the thick of tax season, it was not uncommon for the entire day to pass and me to only hear from Peter Pan late in the evening.  The night of our 80's party, I can vividly remember sitting at my kitchen table with my girlfriends pretty much complaining how Peter Pan was a cheap ass and how I needed to figure out what I was going to do.  And then I checked Facebook.  In my newsfeed I saw an update from Peter Pan that his father had passed.  I was floored.  First, I think it's competely tacky to "announce" the death of a beloved parent on Facebook just seconds after such a tremendous loss, second I was extremely hurt that Peter Pan never picked up the phone to tell me.  Despite that fact that I was partying like a rock star, I do have a heart and would have been there for him during such a dark time.  What 39 year old man posts on FACEBOOK that a parent has passed and doesn't pick up the damn phone to tell his "girlfriend?"  I became so angry that I shut my phone off and began to drink the night away.

The next morning I woke up still in my florescent pink leggings, my Run DMC shirt and teased pink hair reeking of cherry vodka.  It was a good night, well from what I can remember.  As I reviewed the events of the night before, I started questioning if what I read on Facebook was accurate?  Was that a vodka hallucination???  So I logged on, and there it was clear as day.  Peter Pan had already begun thanking everyone for their condolences.  Still no phone call to me, and now it was just awkward for me to call him.  Not only did I party like a rock star the night before, I had a killer hangover and my hair was pink.  So getting in my car and consoling him was totally out of the question.  Besides, there was no way I was going to throw myself at any man, especially one who actions made it pretty clear he did not want me there.  Instead, I walked Diesel, grabbed a can of Pringles and went back to bed to watch Lifetime.  Because that's what you do when your boyfriends father passes away.  Right????

About an hour later my phone rang and it was Peter Pan.  Before I even said hello, he mumbled, "so I guess you heard the news."  This is when I felt like a giant asshole, so I lied.  I said, "oh what news."  For anyone that knows me, you know what a shitty liar I am.  He then informed me of his father's passing, and my Italian guilt really started to do a number on me.  So I lied some more.  I was livid Peter Pan didn't call me sooner, but I didn't have the heart to tell him I was drinking like a fish the night before and breakdancing in my living room.  I mean WHO does that?  And I'm not just referring to the breakdancing.

My friends and I knew I needed to recycle Peter Pan, but this was not a great time.  So during the next couple days I cleaned myself up nicely and stood by Peter Pan's side, the best I could.  As I began to sober up my disgust turned to hate.  This guy needed some serious intervention, and I wasn't looking to mold anyone, espically a 39 year old "man" who had zero relationship experience.  If I wanted a project I would head to my local Michael's craft store and take up candy making.  I have no interest in molding any of my boyfriends.  I'm looking to date a man, and I will not settle for anything less.

I realized I wanted to be in a normal relationship, one where you are exploding with happiness when you see your significant other.  One where your significant other actually buys you a Christmas and Valentines Day gift, even if it's just a plant.  But one where they remember you.  A relationship where if a crisis happens in his life you find out from HIM and not his Facebook status.  A relationship where you are so attracted to this man that just looking at his picture gives you chills.  I had none of this, I was cheating myself out of someone awesome by staying with Peter Pan.  So, I did the only thing I knew how to do.  I stayed with Peter Pan and dilluted myself.  I buriend my head in the sand and pretended everything was ok and "normal."  All for my fear of being alone, all when I already was alone.

Thankfully, I have wonderful girlfriends, so while I wasted my entire summer "dating" Peter Pan, I spent the majority of my summer with my girlfriends.  I don't know if I can ever repay some of these amazing woman for being there for me during my divorce and the months after, I don't even know if these women truly know how they all became my rock during this time.  Looking back, Peter Pan was never a real "boyfriend" he was just a friend, with on a rare occassion, benefits.  I could have handled his father's death differently, I could have been alittle more mature, but going throiugh a divorce is like going through your own death.  It's going through the death of a marriage.  And I had no business dating during this time.  I was not ready mentally.  You live and learn.

I'm baaack

First let me apologize for my hiatus.  My trip to South Beach was work then play, so I was insanely busy.  I barley had time to pee let alone blog.  But, I'm back and have lots of new and improved stuff for everyone. 

Let's begin with South Beach.  Once my work was complete, I had a whole weekend with my new love.  We started our week with him giving me gorgeous roses for Valentines Day and ended the week with him buying me a stunning dress and some other clothing items. Just between us, he could have came back to the room with a pack of gum and I would have been thrilled.  The fact that he went out on a shopping mission in Miami just for me made me ridiculously happy, it is perhaps the cutest thing a man has ever done for me. Coming out of the marriage from hell, and then dating Peter Pan/the world's cheapest guy I was in bliss.  While I am not a materialistic person, everyone likes to be courted by a handsome man.  And when that handsome man, is what appears to be a really nice guy that's genuine well that is a bonus.

I've been dating "him" for the past 5 months, and I've been beyond cautious.  After being together for an entire week, I have decided to finally let my guard down.  And for someone like me, this is not an easy task.  The fear of getting hurt again is huge, but the fear of never finding the true Mr. Right is even bigger.  For the first time EVER, I spent an entire week with another man and not ONCE did I think of my ex husband, etc.  It was the greatest feeling ever.  We would go out and truly enjoy one another's company, I wasn't worried about anything but that moment.  This is a major milestone for me.

I can tell you that after spending this week in South Beach with new love aka NL, I came home ready to start a new chapter in my life.  After spending an entire marriage building walls and living in fear, I'm finally ready to take a stab at being "normal"  I have no idea what God has in store for me, I can only hope and pray that at the end of this road is happiness.

Tomorrow, I promise will be the long anticipated blog on Lucifer and his infidelity. 

To Trust of Not to Trust

After you've had your significant other cheat on you multiple times, you find it difficult to trust again.  Compound that by your rebound Peter Pan cheating, or you finding evidence that leads you believe that he cheated and well you have quite the dilemma.  Those of you that know me well, know I spend quite a bit of my free time in the gym.  My reason?  A good workout gets the "crazy" thoughts out of my head, and keeps the self esteem in check.

Looking back on last year, I think I should have conquered my fear of being alone and ditched Peter Pan immediately after his Christmas incident.  But I didn't, why you ask?  Because I was afraid of really being alone.  I was still in college when I met Lucifer, and for better or worse I spent 13 year of my life with him. So despite what a jerkoff he was to me, he was there.  It's not easy going from always having an anchor there, to having no one there.  And fear my friends, is what can be our worst enemy.  Many of my girlfriends told me I was making a big mistake by wasting my time with Peter Pan, but I of course did not listen.  The only person I could have compared Peter Pan to was Lucifer, so in the beginning I thought he was Mr. Wonderful.  I was blinded by what were nice enough qualities and didn't set the bar high enough. 

Eventually my eyes were opened and I recycled Peter Pan.  And I think for the first time in a very long time, God said to himself, "Let me show Lisa what a real man is like"  I think, because next week will be four whole months with a really great guy.  We even leave next Tuesday for South Beach, the first half will be work for me, the second will be play for us.  We will be together for 5 nights, 6 days.  Whoa.  And I'm nervous, that the awesomeness will fade away, or he will go mad just like the others.  I guess after 6 days together I will be able to really tell.  Oh boy.  Cross everything for me next week.

Now onto Peter Pan and Lucifer, I stalked them through Facebook today.  This was big time stalking, mainly because Peter Pan deleted me, so I had to log on through a friends account.  and Lucifer blocked me so again I had to use a friends account.  I'm not crazy people!  I was curious!  We all get curious!  Right?

You're probably wondering WHY is she stalking these man children all these months later.  Again, I was just curious.  Normal right?  And what do I see???  Desiree wrote on Peter Pan's wall.  And Lucifer is flirting with yet another 18 year old.  A leopard never loses his spots, or a freak never loses his creepy behavior.  My point in this is, ladies and gentlemen ALWAYS trust your gut.  Don't waste your precious time on anyone who doesn't give you Diva status ALL the time. 

Tomorrow I promise we will discuss when I discovered Lucifer was cheating on me the second time.  I just needed a breather from all that toxicity.  I also wanted the opportunity to brag how excited I am to go away with a normal guy.  Or someone who I hope is normal.

Operation Rescue Kitchen Chair

The next 3 weeks are going to be pretty hectic for me, we have a major work event coming up, and I'm swamped.  That being said, it makes me want to reflect on what an Assclown Peter Pan was. 

Peter Pan was a CPA and acted like he was the only CPA in the entire world.  It was a bit over the top, and ridiculous.  And the funny thing this guy would play the violin on how he was pushing 40 and still single.  I've heard of the phrase "tax widows" but this guy never had a girlfriend long enough to make someone a widow, and let's not forget his cheapness.  He was single because he was either gay or petrified of commitment.  All these months later, and I'm still annoyed at what a coward he was during the breakup, and I'm annoyed with myself for not listening to my friends and kicking his scrawny ass to the curb after the lack of Christmas present incident.

Peter Pan and I "dated" for several months, and I use the word "dated" lightly because he was pretty much non existent during tax season.  When tax season finished he was with his boyfriends pretty much every weekend.  Don't get me wrong, when I moved he took the entire day and helped me but looking back I could have and should have paid professional movers to do that.  I am looking for a companion not a little bitch.  Harsh words, but true.

Once I finally moved from my house of horrors in Howellbama it was like I was coming back to life.  I was able to really put my marriage behind me and move forward.  I realized how much I wanted a real boyfriend in my life.  And I started to realize Peter Pan was not boyfriend, and certainly not husband material.  Putting aside the fact that I looked like an Amazon Woman next to Peter Pan, we really didn't share any common interests. So after wasting the entire summer "dating" a man child who I lacked any spark with, it came time to either shit or get off the pot.  The relationship was pretty much dead, he would come over once in a blue moon and show more affection to Diesel.  Now I love my dog, but come on. 

It was a Saturday in September and I didn't hear from Peter Pan ALL DAY.  Call me what you want, but when I'm dating someone and especially after several months I expect a good morning call or text, some sort of verbal communication and even a good night call of text.  If I'm going to be exclusive with you I deserve that.  Well the entire day passed by, so when my friend Sammy asked me to go out with her I was thrilled.  We had a great time, I drank too much vodka, and I had the brilliant idea to drunk text Peter Pan.  Drunk texting when you are feeling unloved is NEVER a good idea.  The next thing I remember I'm home, in the bathroom drunk texting Peter Pan some more, followed by drunk dials.  When I woke up the next morning from my drunken escapade I remember rereading the texts and seeing "I can't come over I'm in Seaside with friends"  And then I knew, Peter Pan was with someone else.

That Sunday passed all day again without a call from Peter Pan.  The final nail in Peter Pan's Gary Coleman sized casket was when I logged onto Facebook that evening and saw pictures posted of him and his beat up "friend" Desiree.  See, I went to the same high school as Desiree, she was a bit older than me, but I knew of her.  She was trash then, and is even bigger trash now.  She has two teenage boys but you would never know this by browsing her Facebook page.  She looks like she's been dragged around the block quite a few times, and is always posting about her ridiculous drunken escapades.  While I enjoy a good frosty beverage, if you're a mother that comes first.  The saying "a picture is worth a thousand words" is true.  After surviving an entire marriage with a compulsive liar, there was nothing Peter Pan could say to change my mind.  The relationship needed to be tossed into the recycle bin and I needed to find a man, not a man child.

One problem, Peter Pan had my clicker to get into my neighborhood and he had my kitchen chair.  Yes you are reading this right my kitchen chair.  Why you ask?  Well because Peter Pan knew everything and you can add carpenter to the list.  Unfortunately, Peter Pan also had a nasty case of Napoleon Syndrome and when he realized I finally saw the light he began acting like an even bigger man child.  And this my friends is when "Operation Rescue Kitchen Chair" began.

Had I not owned a rather expensive kitchen set I could have cared less, but I WANTED MY CHAIR BACK. Peter Pan was totally non- responsive to my phone calls and text messages to get my chair and clicker back.  I began feeling like I was regressing back into high school.  It was ridiculous.  I can remember sending him this email basically telling him "I WANT MY CHAIR BACK NOW!!!"  No response.  And being a women, the more he ignored, the more determined I became to get my chair and clicker back.

After a crazy night out with the girls and drinking way too much vodka, I awoke the next morning with my face on the living room floor, Diesel snuggled next to me and Tostitos in my hair.  Don't ask, I have no idea.  As I was dragging my limp body to the bedroom my doorbell rang and it was my sister and our friend Monika.  My sister always enjoys telling me when I look like death and could not let this opportunity pass her by.  As she started pointing out the Tostitos in my hair, we all noticed a coffee mug on my front step.  At first we thought that perhaps in my drunken stupor I made myself some tea.  But I hate tea, and as we examined the mug closer, we saw my clicker inside the mug.  No note just one of my coffee mugs that was filthy with the clicker inside.  Can we saw COWARD?  And can we say WHERE WAS MY CHAIR?

Well this enraged me even more.  Grow a set of balls and man up.  People break up all the time, why hold a kitchen chair hostage!  I sent yet another text, even my sister texted him.  Nothing. Until two solid weeks passed and I received a text message, "Leaving for vacation, your chair is secured on my front patio."   

Since Peter Pan lived in the ghetto with his gaymate, I immediately called my sister to take the ride.  We hopped in the car and drove as fast as we could because to make matters worse a storm was approaching and there was no way I was going to let my wood chair get ruined.  And we all knew cheap-o would never replace my chair.  Peter Pan was no where in sight when we arrived, but I could have sworn I saw him in his car in the distance. This was becoming like a mini Lifetime movie.  We saw my chair, "secure on his patio", tossed it in the back of the car and drove off.  I had a strong urge to clean out my purse and throw all my tampons on his front lawn, but that would be childish.  So we just drove off, laughing the entire ride home.

When we arrived home we became overcome by the giggles, because well, this was just stupid.  And then it happened.  I don't know if you have a sister, but there is an unwritten rule.  A sister can say whatever she wants about her sister, but DO NOT cross her sister.  And my sister was mad.  I watched her transform into Medusa before my eyes.  With a crazed look she was texting something to someone.  When she clicked send she just smiled and said "Done."

She texted Peter Pan, "You never were a man, never will be.  Now do yourself and everyone around you a favor an come out of the closet."  At that moment Peter Pan deleted me from BBM, blocked me from Facebook and we never spoke again.  I guess the saying the truth hurts hold some weight.  And that my friends is why I refer to this pushing 40 year old "man" as Peter Pan. 

Oh and if you're wondering my chair is proudly on display in my new place ; )

Happy Birthday Baby

I'm in a very good place right now.  I have successfully short sold my house of horrors in Howellbama, yeah short sold it.  I have successfully sold everything and anything related to my marriage, paid off an entire credit card bill with the cash and brought myself a very nice Coach bag with the leftover money.  I'm dating a amazing guy, my family is blessed with good health, I have wonderful friends and despite a bad day here and there I have a great job.  But occasionally I have "one of those days" this past Friday was one of them.  Instead of the Midas Touch, I had the Assclown Touch.  Nothing was going my way.  Despite all good intentions, everything and I mean EVERYTHING was a disaster.  And then it dawned on me, this weekend was Lucifer's birthday.  Even when I was married to Lucifer his birthday weekend was a series of mini disasters, it's like a black cloud followed him.

I was hosting a "Wine Swapping Party" this past Saturday evening.  Basically this is a like a cookie swap only for lushes.  One of my best ideas ever, and even better that I was hosting this gala the weekend of Lucifer's birthday.  I really don't sit and think about Lucifer at all these days, only when I realize I'm living in a cave or when I have the occasional biological clock meltdown.  You know, when you realize ALL of your friends either already have children or are getting pregnant and nursing, and you realize that you are only nursing vodka on a Saturday night.  And when I have one of those meltdowns I realize how much of my life I wasted with an assclown.  And I get pissed off. 

My girls and I had a fun evening of wine, laughing and snacks.  And then I decided to open my big mouth.  In my wine haze I thought it would be "really fun" if my sister got my cake topper from her garage and if we smashed it, in the street of course.  Since we were all drunk it was the most logical thing to do.  My sister is going through her own marital issues so we had a room of  angry (some not all), drunk women who had a case of the giggles.  Never a good combination. 

When Maryann (my sister) & Kristen returned from the walk next door I was ready, with the mallet in my hand.  I think that's what it's called, you know the "hammers" you use to tenderize your meats.  All 5 of us put our jackets on and navigated our way through the ice and snow to find the most perfect spot to smash the infamous cake topper.  Despite how intoxicated we all were, we were extremely careful to not do it where A) Diesel walks B) cars could get glass in their tires and my personal favorite C) the most perfect spot so the neighbors wouldn't think we were crazy.  Maryann did the honors, mainly because she's much better at these things.

Well, when the mallet hit the topper we remained with a bride and a headless one legged groom.  At that moment, this was better than hitting mega millions.  We quickly grabbed our busted cake topper pieces and ran back into the house.  After decorating him, I then turned into the devil herself and remembered how much I despise Lucifer.  I think at that moment I became the "Divorced Devil" I took a picture of the busted, headless one legged groom, stuck him in my wine glass that reads, "I got rid of my husband because the dog was allergic" and then typed, "Happy Birthday fucker, hope your childbride gives you AIDES" Yes people you are reading that correct, I wrote AIDES.  I never said I was a superstar speller when I drink.  And then I clicked SEND.  When I told the girls what I did we all giggled like schoolgirls.  Until my sister actually READ the text and realized it looked like a retarded person wrote it.  I had this sudden urge to send Lucifer ANOTHER text that said "Correction, i meant HIV" I even had it all typed, but realized that would just be insane.  Because everything else is perfectly normal.

I know you are all thinking, did Lucifer answer her?  No he did not, I'm really not sure what sort of response one would have to a text like that.  I can tell you I woke up still laughing this morning, because despite the spelling error, despite the fact that some men and women might be frightened by this behavior, I'm able to laugh, and laughter is the best medicine.

Divorce Goggles

I find it mind blowing that in my adult life I still have "snow days" - don't get me wrong, I appreciate them, but  have learned I work harder on these "snow days" then on regular days.  NJ had yet another big snow and ice storm, and at 8AM the boyfriend and I were outside cleaning off our cars (well he was I held the scraper and pointed), by 9AM I was inside getting ready for our 10:30AM delayed opening, then by 10:15AM I discovered the office was closed.  So I spent my entire afternoon working from our very slow server with Diesel my Boston Terrier snuggled on my lap.  Blogging about Lucifer can be draining so I think I'd like to discuss Divorce Goggles.  I hope no one minds me jumping off subject today.

I filed for divorce summer of 2009.  Later we will discuss the event (as IF Angel Eyes wasn't enough) that pushed me to file, but for now I want to talk "Divorce Goggles."  Divorce Goggles are what everyone develops immediately following a divorce, similar to Beer Goggles, only there no frosty beverages involved.  You are so emotionally spent from the events leading up to and the divorce itself that your radar is not fully operating and you settle to get your mind off the events going on in your life.  In my case
Divorce Goggles = Peter Pan.

I met Peter Pan by accident, I was NOT looking to meet someone.  He was a nice guy, but certainly NOT my type.  He was almost 40, had a male roommate, lacked any solid relationship experience, and knew alot of nothing.  His family and friends would constantly tell me what a "nice" guy he was.  It became annoying.  Show me, don't tell me.  He was cheap beyond belief, in all the months we dated I didn't get one lousy bunch of flowers, no Christmas gift, nothing people!.  He was helpful, but let's be honest I'm looking for a man to court me, not to be my bitch and run my errands.  Now for the good stuff.

For all his bad qualities, he was a nice guy, just not boyfriend material, certainly not husband material and NOT my type.  I like a man that if the house is getting robbed he isn't going to hide under my skirt.  I like a man that if I borrow his shirt it looks like a dress on me not a belly shirt.  I like a man that if I'm spending the night at his home I don't have to whisper so we don't wake his 40 something male roommate with the world's largest lego collection.  I think I made my point.

Peter Pan would often brag about all the women he dated, often referring to his many women as "different flavors of ice cream" and I would think to myself if you're ice cream than you are the Wal-Mart brand cheap-o.  I soon began to realize this bragging was his insecurity coming out.   I often wonder if Peter Pan ever had a normal relationship with a woman beyond two solid months.  He certainly didn't act like it.  See Lucifer was an asshole, but didn't hide it, Peter Pan was a wolf in baby sheep clothing.

The problem with Divorce Goggles is when you have them on, anyone that tries to remove them instantly annoys you.  Occasionally, I would catch Peter Pan doing something embarrassing, but then I would put my goggles back on.  I can vividly remember when I was at Applebys with  my friend Jenna and Peter Pan decided to "surprise" me and meet us there.  We had just gotten out of spin class and looked well we looked gross, well I did anyway.  Clue that I could care less was that it I was out in public looking homeless and made no effort to put any deodorant on after a spin class.  Now if my current boyfriend was going to surprise me I would be ecstatic, showered and primped. 

Anyway, I can remember sitting by the bar looking like my trailer was parked out back and watching Peter Pan enter Applebys.  Instantly I felt my stomach turning.  Why you ask?  Prior to this Peter Pan had accepted his very very very large Stepfather's inspector gadget winter coat.  More proof that he was just cheap.  This coat was ridiculously large on him, it looked more like a cape and I HATED when he insisted on wearing it.   I'm sorry but when you're single in your late 30's, supposedly make good money and have a freaking roommate BUY YOURSELF A COAT THAT FITS.  Well we saw Peter Pan entering the restaurant, I made a point of ordering a stronger Pomegranate Martini, it's all about numbing yourself.  When he got to the table all I heard was noise coming out of his mouth.  Why?  Because when he took his cape off he was wearing a freaking sweater his mother MADE him.  And it looked like it.  What made this worse was when he removed the sweater there as a label that said:  knitted with love by MOM.  I don't drop the f bomb much but seriously WHAT THE FUCK.  What grown ass man wears his stepfathers coat followed by a sweater his mom knit?  There is nothing cute about a grown man wearing a mama's special sweater.  NOTHING!

Now onto an even bigger problem, my friend Jenna is one of those friends that if we just look at each other the wrong way we can laugh for hours.  This was a disaster waiting to happen.  I avoided eye contact with her at all costs.  I also wasn't ready to admit she was right, I needed to face my fear of being alone and recycle Peter Pan ASAP.

I could babble about Peter Pan for hours, but I don't want bore you.  Tomorrow we will pick up on Lucifer and eventually I will tell you about my pretty funny break up with Peter Pan that involved my sister and I sending random notes for my kitchen chair.

To Catch a Predator

During the car ride I poured my guts out to Jen and explained the situation.  See up until this point no one knew anything or so I thought.  I was becoming a fantastic actress – I probably could have grabbed a part on a nice lifetime movie.  When we got to Starbucks I wasn’t sure if I was going the throw my guts up or get diarrhea.  I was that nervous.  I brought myself the mother of all coffees and waited.  When a 5’2 Asian girl came up to me I was confused.  She looked about 15 and strongly resembled the girl who did my nails. WTF!  When she said it was HER, I was stunned.  I was expecting a supermodel to walk in, not a child bride, and certainly not one that was banged up.  I became totally numb.  Instantly she started sobbing to me how she was so sorry.  I just let her speak.  I was mesmerized at how hideous she was.  What was Lucifer thinking?  All I could hear her saying was, “it was just blow jobs in the back of the parking lot” and "Lucifer said you were really mean, I wanted to help him."  I was disgusted, repulsed and embarrassed.  But I offered to buy her a coffee because I’m Italian and we like to feed people.  This meeting lasted about an hour and a half.  Poor Jen just sat there stunned.  This girl was a mere 17 years old, she was a cashier at K-Mart.  She had just graduated high school, I actually felt sorry for her.  She handed me her diary and showed me her cell phone because apparently Lucifer was “harassing” her.  I saw hundreds of texts from him, some coming in as we spoke.  It amazes me that I didn’t throw up all over the table at that moment.  But somehow I remained calm and when her phone rang, and it was Lucifer I picked up.  After Lucifer recovered from his confusion he realized this was it.  I told him I wanted him out and I was disgusted. 

What I did next is even more mind blowing to me.  I had my sister in law meet me, meet Angel Eyes as Lucifer referred to her as and after meeting HER, I went to my mother in laws alone.  For some strange reason I felt obligated to let his family know I was ending this sham of a marriage.  Despite the fact that his family was a walking episode of Intervention, I liked his mom.  And I loved his little nieces.  I was there to watch each of those girls come into the world, I didn’t want to just leave.  Till this day I still miss those girls.  When I walked into his mom’s house I was pretty sure I was going to snap, throw up or shit my pants.  Neither of that happened. I sat on the couch, my sister in law hugged me and my older niece came up to me and just said “Aunt Lisa I really miss you where have you been.  I can count to 10 in Spanish now wanna see” I held back my water works and listened and watched.  My other niece kept running back and forth with her newest stuff animals giggling.  I did NOT want these kids to have to hear the conversation with his mom, they had enough to deal with in their own lives.  When the kids finally left the room I sat and spoke with my mother in law.  I told her I wanted Lucifer out, how could I share a bed with a man who has cheated and cheated with a minor?  Yuck.  My mind was made up, Lucifer needed to get out tonight.

I went home to find Lucifer watching Lost just sitting there.  NO bags packed, just sitting there.  I was too tired to fight, I wanted to cry for gods sake and I couldn’t.  He begged me to let him say, promised marriage counseling, everything.  I said fine and Lucifer slept on the couch.  I went upstairs to bed and finally had my sob fest, you know the kind that you cry so hard you throw up until there is nothing left in your body.  It helped, but I still hated Lucifer. 

The next month or so is a total blur to me. I found a marriage counselor, we went once a week, Lucifer slept on the couch, I never slept.  The only time Lucifer and I ever spoke was at therapy and I would cry and yell at him, often calling him a predator  He disgusted me, I hated looking at him, I was embarrassed of what he had done.

Tomorrow we will talk about what it's like being married to someone who makes your stomach turn and why anyone would do that.  Once again, I hope I didn't put anyone to sleep.  I'm done for the night ; )

Wake up and smell the cheater!

It took several months for me to recognize all the red flags and realize Lucifer was cheating on me.  And while I really want this blog to be more current, the more I write the more I need to tell you.  Prior to getting married I remember thinking, "what kind of a stupid woman would stay with a man that cheats on her!  Marriage is forever but get some self respect!  A cheater is always a cheater."  Well I soon became that stupid, fearful woman. 

Christmas 2007 came and went, but I was showered with gifts.  Coach bags, perfumes that smelled like Raid, even a nice pan so I could make him turkey.  What a guy!  Immediately after Christmas Lucifer informed me that we should buy a house – with nothing down.  And we would use ALL of our savings – well MY savings to renovate this house.  I of course thought this meant things were better and totally agreed.  I mean WHY deal with the situation when I could get myself neck deep in even more shit?  So we began house hunting and soon found what I thought was going to be my American Dream.  A house that was falling to the ground in Howellbama.  This wasn’t Middletown anymore, but it was what I thought was my very own house.  How exciting.  The house was far from livable – I mean the previous owner was nice enough to even leave his pubic hair in the bathroom and his porn behind the fridge.  What a deal!  For an entire month we well I had construction workers in the home and I was peeling wallpaper and everything else.  Lucifer was always “working” many times until 1 AM because according to him this K-Mart was a hot spot.  People were robbing them blind.  I’m sure Mr. K-Mart was very happy to have such a diligent worker!

I reached my breaking point one night when I was tearing up the carpet on the stairs and I realized I spent more quality time with our Russian handyman Peter than my own husband.  I had a total emotional meltdown while watching American Idol with Peter.  Peter was scraping our popcorn ceilings down and would come at night to do this.  I have no idea why, he just came at night and worked cheap.  I would buy Peter chicken soup from the Pizza Place down the street because apparently Russians like chicken soup from Pizza Places and we would chat about America and how nice it is.  Finally one night Peter says to me “you’re so beautiful but always alone.  Your husband he doctor?”  And then it hit me like a ton of bricks.  My soon to be ex husband was NOT saving the world from crime.

The next day as I was changing our address over on all the bills, I came across to the Verizon bill.  When I logged onto the site I noticed a spot where you could view all numbers that were called, texted, etc.  That little voice in my head was whispering “take a look stupid” so I of course did.  I noticed hundreds of text messages to a number I did not recognize.  I clicked to dig deeper, and saw that this number was getting texts as late as 1AM.  My stomach began to turn.  I counted over 600 texts to this number all times of the day, but the majority at night.  I realized who ever this person was Lucifer was texting them while I was sleeping next to him.  It was right then that I experienced my first ever panic attack/freak out.  I began to sweat like I had just run the NYC marathon and felt like I was going to throw my guts up.  I was at work on my lunch hour in my office, so I tried to act as normal as possible.  I closed my office door and just sat at my desk staring at my monitor.  I had to think of a plan.  So I did what any logical woman would have done, I called the number.  A girl who sound like she was 13 answered with what sounded like Britney Spears blaring in the background.  I hung up on her and called one of what I thought was our very good friends.  Till this day I have no idea WHY I did this, but I did.  For some reason I was afraid to tell Lucifer what I found so I regressed to my high school years.  When his friend who we will call Mini Man answered the phone I instantly babbled what happened and he assured me that Lucifer would never cheat and I was just stressed about buying a new home.  I think I must have been in shock because I accepted this ridiculous answer, hung up and went back to work.  Duh I know. 

About 3 more months passed and Lucifer was becoming even more rude and disrespectful towards me.  At this point even Helen Keller would know he was clearly doing something wrong.  I went back to the Verizon site and saw that he was texting this number so much our last month’s cell phone bill was $500.  Holy shit. 

So this time I picked up the phone and called the number.  She answered and I said, “this is Lucifer’s wife who the hell are you and why are you texting my husband so much”  What happened here is just really strange.  We began to chat and she agreed to meet me, at Starbucks in East Brunswick none the less.  I needed someone to come with me because I could barley walk at this point, me legs felt like jelly and my brain was all mushy.  I called my friend Jen and asked her to come with me.  I knew if I asked my sister there would have been a murder, Jen was a safer bet.

While I'd love to write more on my coffee date with "Angel Eyez" that's what Lucifer referred to our little Filipino as.  I'm going to call it quits for tonight.  I really hope I didn't put everyone to sleep, I'm trying to keep these posts shorter, but once you get going you just can't stop. ; ) 

Liar, Liar

I’m not going to go into dirty details, but I think it’s important that I briefly go into this part of my life.  Because looking back it has really made me who I am now – it has made me a stronger, better person.  And that is not a load of crap, it’s the truth.  

It was December 2007 and I had a new job in Freehold.  I loved this new job.  The annual holiday party was coming up, and being a typical woman I was eagerly anticipating the opportunity to get all sexed up and enjoy a night out.  My ex on the other hand had the personality of a gnat and was throwing excuses at me left and right.  I remember telling him, “this is a new job, I need you there.  Please it’s one night, I’m begging you”  Well remember he worked at K-Mart so he was quite the busy man.  I remember the night before the holiday party he came home in a mood.  I avoided him like the plaque because I knew if we fought he would not go to the party with me.  It was unavoidable, his sister was dating a guy who was just out of prison and my ex wanted them to come over.  This guy was a creeper beyond words and I didn’t want him over. Between the tear drop tattoo on his face, the scar across his face and the fact that he smelled like he rolled around in shit I wasn't too eager to bond with this low life.  Lucifer often referred to me as a Middletown spoiled brat, and perhaps I was.  But I think this time I was totally right.

Well the fight was a big one and  of course it ended with “and now you go to the party alone”  I did just that I went to the party alone, put what I thought was my best game face on, told my new boss my husband had a stomach flu and tried to make the best of a bad situation.  When I got home from the party my ex was on his cell phone whispering.  I remember him jumping when I walked in the room and saying “what are you doing here”  At that point I knew something was not right.  But I did what most women do, I buried my head in the sand and prayed I was being paranoid.  I mean it was Christmas, who wants to find out their husband is screwing the 17 year old Filipino cashier at Kmart.  That certainly isn’t a nice Christmas surprise! 

It took me several months to put all the pieces together and realize my husband was getting blow jobs in the   parking lot of K-Mart by a 17 year old Filipino girl who had braces.  But eventually I figured it out.  I can understand why that woman in Texas ran her husband over upon discovering his infidelity.  I wanted to do the same, but my fear of God and knowing I'd look awful in an orange jumpsuit made me think twice.  I'm much too vain to be put in jail, and I'm quite certain they don't thread eyebrows there or sell Coach.  I'd also have a uni brow by the time I was released, not a good look on me.

I think I'll dedicate my entire blog tomorrow night to when I met Lucifer's child bride and when I took her out for coffee.  I also think that as dark as that moment was for me, the Lisa that I am now started to develop.  My divorce attorney has told me I'm "rare" meaning I'm one of the very few women who had the balls to call "the other woman" or as I refer to her as "the other child" and meet her.  Meet her, buy her coffee, take a photo with her and get a copy of her diary with every disgusting detail of what she did to Lucifer.  My life was becoming a Lifetime Movie and I was the main character.  Lucky me.

Hell on Earth

I didn't divorce Lucifer because he was mentally ill, although looking back I should have left because of that too.  I divorced Lucifer because he cheated multiple times and was verbally abusive towards me.  Lucifer was slowly killing me and I knew if I didn't find the courage to leave him eventually I would be nothing.  But the thought of divorce was extremely scary for me.  What would everyone think, what would I do, where would I go, was I worthy of a real man every loving me?  All stupid questions, but they kept me up at night.

After well over a year out of work, Lucifer finally retired on disability.  He, well I found him a security job at Sears Holdings aka Kmart.  I didn’t care what Lucifer's job was because it was a job and he was finally paying some bills around the house.  And at that point I thought I still loved him.  He could have dressed up like the Easter Bunny and I would have been happy. I just wanted a NORMAL marriage.  I wanted to have a companion, someone to come home to and laugh with.  Not this lazy piece of shit who was getting meaner by the day.  Oops that wasn’t nice.  Anyway, after him working at K-Mart for about 3 months he became an even bigger asshole. 

I was only married about a year and it was not uncommon for me to attend weddings, parties, company functions alone.  It was wearing me down emotionally but he claimed he had to work.  I mean K-Mart security is very demanding, isn’t it?  I started feeling like the most unattractive woman on the planet.  I can remember laying in bed crying myself to sleep and Lucifer would be out cold next to me clutching his cell phone. When I would question him he would say he needed to have his phone with him at all times in case K-Mart was robbed.  I wonder if Obama sleeps with his cell phone between him and Michelle?  Hum?

You never want to think your spouse is lying to you.  And you never want to think your spouse would cheat on you.  So for the next year of my marriage, I buried my head in the sand and believed Lucifer's outrageous lies.  My brain knew he was full of shit, but my heart was not ready to get shattered, yet.

Tomorrow we will talk about when I knew Lucifer was cheating, what I did and how I got myself a copy of her diary to give my divorce attorney.  In the meantime I will leave you with a photo of what I should have done!

Surrounded By Assclowns

This post was suppose to be another entry about my saga of a marriage.  But I decided I'd like to jump to the present for today.  I'm blessed to have an amazing support system -my friends, and my family however I do not think my family truly understands what divorce is and means. And that frustrates me and leaves me baffled.  Anyone who knows me knows how hard I fought to save my marriage, I always believed when you marry someone it is forever. My divorce was for survival, there came a point where the abuse needed to stop and I needed to put myself first. 

When I finally decided to file for divorce I met someone else.  I was not actively looking to meet someone, it was a compete accident.  We did not date until after I filed my papers. At the time I thought he was a great guy.  I looked past the fact that he was a very little man (literally), pushing 40 with a male roommate or as my friends called it a "gaymate", and was cheap beyond belief.  I had severe Divorce Goggles and this guy who we will refer to as Peter Pan was my rebound.  Peter Pan knew everything, and I mean everything.  No matter what you were doing he'd rocked that or so he said.  In the beginning I thought that was wonderful, towards the end of the relationship it was just annoying.  Right down to ice cream, Peter Pan knew all you needed to know about it, even the proper way to scoop it to not make "doggy tracks" whatever the fuck that meant.  

Anywho, Peter and I broke up back in September  We will revisit Peter in future blogs.  Merely for the sake of amusement because the break up was downright hilarious.  And his cheapness was pretty funny too, I should have broke up with Peter when he handed me an empty Christmas card that said "Merry Christmas honey!  Christmas just popped up this year.  I'm going to buy us Jersey Boy tickets in April"   You fucking cheap bastard, call me materialistic but I don't want my gift in APRIL unless you're taking me to an island and I don't mean Staten Island.  Well he never brought the tickets, and last time I checked Jesus was born on December 25th for the past few decades.  Peter was just a major cheap-o.

After I kicked Peter to the curb, my sister was kind enough to solicit me on match.com where I met my current boyfriend.  I was very hesitant to put myself online for dating.  It felt awkward to me.  I mean you sit and browse all these photos of men and think, I wonder if you're the one I might see naked.  I didn't like it, but after being on match for about a day this guy emailed me with two words, "pretty smile." We had our first date a few days later, and I'm happy to say I'm off the online dating world. 

We are dating almost 4 months, and because I really like this guy I have no mean nicknames for him, yet.  I will not blog about him out of respect for our relationship, and out of fear of jinxing a good thing.  All I will say is I like this guy, a lot.  Cross your fingers he doesn't go crazy, cheat with underage girls multiple times, start mooing at me or get a gaymate.  If he doesn't do any of the above I will be a very happy girl.

I think I've babbled enough for tonight.  Tomorrow we will talk about Lucifer's meltdown and his taste for underage cashiers at K-Mart. 

I will leave you with a pic a friend sent me.  Assclown, a great term one I used to use regularly for Lucifer. 

The Honeymoon is Over

The honeymoon came and went – we returned back to NJ – I was a nice golden bronze and he looked like a giant blister that just popped.  We had about 5 months of a decent marriage and then he snapped.  Literally snapped. 

I remember the exact day.  It was a rainy Saturday and I was watching the Pope's wake on TV.   Lucifer was working (he worked in law enforcement).  My phone rang and it was the emergency room on the other end.  At that very moment it was like the entire world came to a screeching halt.  See, when you're married to someone who works in this type of work you know the ER isn't exactly calling to say your beloved husband was taken from work in an ambulance for a paper cut.  All I was told was my husband arrived about an hour ago and was in the process of getting examined.  Immediately, I called my mother in law.  After some hustle and bustle, myself, my mother in law, her current flavor of the month boyfriend, my sister in law and her 2 children all piled into the car.  Talk about a cluster fuck.  But this was his family and who was I to tell all 5 of them to stay home.   

After driving for what seemed an eternity I remember running into the ER, asking where my husband was.  As the nurse was escorting me to his room I immediately recognized his work boots peeking out from the curtain .  I quietly prayed that he wasn't shanked at work.  See, just loving someone who works in law enforcement can be emotionally draining at times.  Everyday they go to work and come home safe is a blessing. 

After months of tests, the doctors claimed he had full fledged post traumatic disorder and some anger management issues, although I have no idea what the PTSD was from.  I will be haunted for the rest of my life wondering what happened to him at work that night he was admitted.  For the next 12 months we would visit the ER at least weekly because he was convinced he was having a heart attack. 

In the beginning I was the supportive wife, but after your 100^th trip to the ER, you pretty much know this person is one step short of being in a straight jacket.  But I was the loving wife, standing by his side, holding his hand.  I did alot of crying and praying back then, I thought God wasn't listening to me, I didn't understand why He was allowing this to happen to me. Looking back, God was listening to me, I just wasn't listening to HIM. 

It came to the point where Lucifer was unable to even leave the house let alone go to work. Eventually, the state put him out on disability.  Very long story short my ex never returned to his job – he retired on a mental disability and I was 29 years old married to a loony bird.   He became an anchor that was weighing me down.  He was angry at the world and was very insecure. He stopped talking to all of his friends, would let days, weeks, months pass without talking to his family.  He avoided my family like the plague, and would get angry when I would go visit them.  And for me this was the most difficult part, I am very close to my family.  The smallest things would set him off.  I felt like I was constantly walking on egg shells.  I remember walking to the fridge for food and he’d moo at me.  I have never been “fat” a day in my life, so you do the math here.  He critiqued everything I did, everything I said.  He was verbally abusive and just a flat out asshole. 

I should have left then, but I had convinced myself that all couples have ups and downs and “true love” can get you through anything.  I was dumb.  I should have left then.

Here it goes...

First let me begin by saying this “blog” is in no way shape or form a pity diary.  Pity is pathetic and I don't do pity. See that picture of me?  That's my Divorce Party.  See that top I'm wearing?  That's the top from my wedding gown.  Thank goodness for my amazing friends, they are always there to pick me up. Now that we have covered that let's begin this blog.

This is written by popular demand, with the hopes that some other lovesick emotionally abused female will have the courage to do what I did. Run as far away as possible from her mentally deraigned husband.  No really, run Forrest run.

My sense of humor developed over time, at first it was like a shield for me.  See my ex husband who we will refer to as Lucifer was not my match.  We were what people call polar opposites.  I come from a loving, close knit Italian family, he came from well a family.  While I know his family loved him, they had more problems than a mathbook.  I was a college grad, he was not.  I could go on but I won't.  I married against my parents wishes, against my friends advice.  We dated for several years, yes years before we married. 

Looking back, Lucifer was never overly nice and I'm not really sure WHAT exactly I was thinking.  Sure he gave me expensive gifts and flowers on the expected occasions, but he was not the one for me.  I knew on my honeymoon I made a giant mistake.  I can remember sitting on the balcony to our suite in Aruba wanting to pull a Scott Peterson and toss his ass in the ocean.  Why you ask? My ex is the only person I know that can be in paradise with a hot piece of ass (ME!) and be miserable.  He managed to get burnt to the point that he had a strong resemblance to a lobster and spent an entire day bolted in the room watching catroons.  On my freaking honeymoon.  I was of course annoyed so I left him in the room and drank on the beach with other honeymooners while Lucifer was upstairs icing his burnt body.  I remember watching the newly married happy couples hugging and kissing in the pool wanting to vomit.  I busted my ass for months in the gym for this stupid honeymoon and I was alone in my bikini in paradise.   I decided to make the most of this week of torture with lurch, so while he was upstairs doing god knows what I became good friends with my friends vodka and the other various mixed drinks that the bartender would serve up to me. 

I’m pretty sure those drinks were all pity drinks for the new bride who sat at the bar alone in her itty bitty bikini.  Regardless, they were good, and being the person I am I can honestly say I made the best of it and actually had fun.  Alone.  On my honeymoon.  Lol.  I should have contacted my lawyer then.  But I didn’t because I’m a good  calthoic Italian girl who made a “lifetime commitment”. 

I'm not going to write endless entries on Lucifer, I just want to write enough for everyone to understand how I got to be so damn funny, and why I am who I am.  While I refer to my ex as Lucifer, I have to admit that's not really fair.  It does take two to tango, and I need to thank him for making me grow up and realize what I do not want in a man.  My sister says I'm "bitter" I say no, just afraid of making the same mistake again and getting hurt again.   Despite how accomplished I feel now, divorce is an emotional rollar coaster - one that I never want to have to ride again.  It's like grieving a death of someone that you loathe, but at times you feel the most horrible pain in the pit of your stomach.  And just when you think you have recovered you see something, smell something, remember something and you are experiencing that gut wrenching feeling again.  It sucks.  But somehow you survive, and come out stronger than before and an even better package for the next person. 

I will post more tomorrow on the events leading to my divorce and then we'll discuss dating after divorce or the first year divorce goggles.  Kinda like beer goggles only worse.  Thank goodness I have passed that phase in my life.