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.
Friday, March 18, 2011
Thursday, March 17, 2011
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.
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.
Monday, March 7, 2011
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?
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?
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
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 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.
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