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.