Leap Year Day

I didn’t expect to win the lottery, or have anything spectacular happen today.  I just cared about making it to work in time for a scheduled conference call with the company who hosts our website armed with enough cognitive ability to ask coherent questions because we are planning on updating our site.  Designing it will be placed in my hands.  I wanted to be on my game.

But as I drove to work and flipped the radio stations, I wanted a boring, average, and normal day.  And I was determined to get it.  On the shoulder of the freeway, I saw a woman in a car whose back-end was completely caved in just sitting in her car.  It almost looked like she was frozen in a panic.  Stunned.  I imagined what could be going through her mind.  Insurance, money, fear, hyperventilation. Leap Day wasn’t so kind to her.  She’ll remember this day forever I bet.

Work at the office today was a breath of fresh air away from the quiet of my living room and couch.  Laughing, joking, interesting stories, a challenging discussion of issues  dominated our staff meeting.  I thought.  Yep, I’m so ok.  This is fine.  A nice normal day.

When I got home after my long drive, my son and his girlfriend were in the backyard singing.  Working on a song which was a mash-up of Poison and Wine’s Civil Wars and Glen Hansard’s Falling Slowly.  It was beautiful, I listened for a while.  My daughter was upstairs working on homework.  Everything was as it should be.  My dog Lucy in my lap.

I left a chat conversation with a friend to run to the grocery store.  My favorite checker Dave re-opened his station just so I could go through.  He’s a nice older man who always greets me with a smile and asks me how I am.  We chat about nothing in particular and then he says have a great day and I smile.  But as I walk out of the store today I felt to cry instead.  But I don’t.  I tell the girl scouts that I don’t want to buy any of their cookies (and that is the truth) and drive home with all the makings for homemade tacos.

The clock tells me I have only an hour to make dinner if I want to get to church on time, so I go at warp speed.  Rice, meat, cut up veggies, grate cheese, fry the shells (that is a must with these tacos).  And I inhale five (yes you heard right), ask the kids to pick up after dinner, and I grab my keys, and head for church.  Can’t seem to convince the kids to go to the midweek study these days.

I walk in as the first song ends and the pastor leading worship tells everyone to say hello to a neighbor.  I’m fairly new but not that new.  I’ve purposefully kept my distance although I attend almost every service they have.  I obligatorily turn to the lady sitting in front of me, smile and shake her hand.  I think her name was Lynette.  There is a man sitting with his daughter about six chairs over, I just wave to him and sit down.  All around me there are about 40 people walking across aisles and stopping along the way to hug almost every person in between.  Some are in deep conversation.  It’s as if the teacher in a classroom gave a talking pass for 3 minutes to a group of third graders.  They were almost giddy to socialize.  And I sat there just watching them.

I bring up my feet and crisscrossed them under my legs and get out my notebook and my Bible and willed the love in the room to wind down so I could learn.  I almost rolled my eyes at it and thought – stop with the smiles and the hugs already.  I’m not interested.  I just want this day to be over.  Like so many days.  I just want to get through it.

The message was strong as always.  I learned a lot and about 3/4 of the way in the pastor shared his story quite comically about how it was he came to faith in Jesus.  I’ve heard many testimonies in my life.  I used to work for a church where I was like Barbra Walters interviewing people and their life stories.  I’ve heard amazing ones.  His was not amazing.  It was typical…like my day.  Only that his story resulted in something extraordinary.  A changed life.  And no matter how normal the story, that outcome does always fascinate me.  The changed life of a true believer in Jesus is not typical.  I’ve found it to be rare.

It got me thinking about my life and my testimony and if I were asked what would I say.  On one hand it has been more boring than most. If I emphasized one story line over another it would even seem pious and devout.  But I’ve always prided myself in saying that no matter what was done to me or what I did to others I never gave up on my faith.  I never threw my hands in the air as if to say, “I tried it, and it’s too hard, I’m done.”  I’ve eventually, sometimes after tantrums, turned back to the Lord and looked to Him for direction.

That is until recently.  And I didn’t even realize it until today.  This day that thankfully will not repeat itself again for four more years.  There is one thing I’ve been so angry at God for that I would not even admit it to myself.  Even as I sit here I find it hard to put into words.  And it’s this.  If Jesus is the head of the church and men are to love their wives as Christ loves the church, why have I never experienced that kind of love from a man?  Why do they cheat, lie, and coerce? And these are men who say they love Jesus!  These are men who profess to being Christian.

When Martin lied to me and then berated me over email something broke in my soul.  Because I started saying to myself that Christian men could not be trusted.  Men who call themselves Christian must be the worst kind of people on the planet because they say they’re one thing but don’t live up to the ideals or values.

And I realized, maybe I thought that about all Christians.  And maybe that is why I had so little interest in getting to know my new congregants.

Don’t get me wrong.  I love the Word of God.  I love Jesus.  But get those Christians away from me.  Because they lie. Really?  How unchristian of me.  How true that statement is though.

I stood for the last song and only listened and stared straight ahead.  As soon as I was safe in my car with my door closed the sobbing began.  I could feel a weight and urgency and was so paranoid that someone saw that I was upset and might actually reach out to me that I turned on my car and pulled out of the parking lot before anyone had even left the church.

How could I think these things?  I’ve worked in Christian ministry along side GOOD people for 12 years.  I know the people I know.  I know their wives and their husbands.  I know they are real people but also true believers.  How could I have swung so far against them all?  Because whatever was promised and given to them was not given to me?  Was this jealousy?  Was it an excuse for my own wrong choices?

If I couldn’t trust Christian men, maybe I could trust men who were not Christian?  At least with them, I  have a different set of expectations?  I would not expect them to want to obey Christ.  I would expect them to do and think like the world.  And then I realized, it’s not just Christians I hate.  They get more disdain because they’re supposed to know better.  But it’s all of humanity.

I have major trust issues.

So I sat in my car in the garage wondering how I would rectify this dilemma I’m now facing.  Loving God but wanting nothing to do with His people.  Or any people.

And I remembered the day I ran out of church after my dad died in tears because everyone was worshiping God and I felt disconnected with that joy.  I was sad and I wanted to be sad.  I was angry but even more I was hurt and I wanted to shield myself from any further hurt.  I didn’t blame my dad’s death on people though.  But what my ex did and what Martin did to me was their doing.  They were men I trusted.

It wasn’t an act of God that hurt me, it was them.  I could protect myself from them.  Keep all pain out.  Cause when I let them in…it’s no good for me.  I get hurt.  Keep all men out.  Just keep them the hell away from me.

I was right Mercenary Guy chose not to be my friend.  In fact he deleted his Facebook account and then called me names.  Then he apologized.  But still…

So this Leap Year day I have discovered I’ve once again put myself into my box and locked it tight.  I really gave it all with  Martin.  I gave him everything I was.  Lock, stock, and barrel and he shot me with my own gun at point-blank range.

Tonight I am emotionally exhausted.  I know I’m incapable of the kind of hope I’ve given to so many through my writing here on this blog.  If I don’t believe it I can’t write it.  Tonight I’m the one who feels like Humpty Dumpty.  So broken.  Realizing I’m so far from the healing I thought I had accomplished.  That should be accomplished by my faith that I’m apparently lacking in that up til tonight I had convinced myself was so strong.

Maybe by next February 29th I will be done with this current tantrum and have things in the right perspective.  I’ll figure out how to reconcile my love for Jesus and my disdain for humanity.  The way I feel tonight, it will take at least that long.

Humpty Dumpty

Sometimes things happen in my life and I think…why me?  Who else does this kind of stuff happen to?  It usually involves me getting into situations that are comical, or poignant, or magical, but never horrifying (that is the only appropriate word.)

I met a guy about a month ago who said yes to the Marines and then to paid security work in Iraq.  He said yes and then he lived something that was horrifying.  Years later he is still dealing with the effects of it all.  The horror of war changes people.  And I will hopefully never know, even remotely, how horrifying it truly is.  But he does.

And then what?  What is next for a soul that sees what no human should see?  What is next for a soul who carries the burden of guilt for being alive when others are dead?  I have no idea.  It’s Humpty Dumpty trying to put back together what has been shattered.  All the king’s horses and all the king’s men, Couldn’t put Humpty together again.  And that brings me to tears.

I read a book today.  It was a book about Mercenary Guy.  In part anyway.  I read and I read and I cried and I thought, “What a life.”

I felt proud of him.  So proud.  I felt compassion.  I wished that I could make it all better for him too.  The part of me who thinks people are good, screamed and cried.  The book said that he had demons haunting him.  I know this to be true.

I also know that no human can make those demons vanish.  Nothing carnal either.  Because revenge breeds more revenge.  Bitterness breeds more bitterness.  He has a hole in his heart that needs to be filled with something.  It sucks the joy out of his life.  It brings on tears.  It leaves him empty.

All of us have holes to fill.  All of us.  But what are we filling those holes with?  Busyness, and work for some.  Sex and relationships for others.  Drugs or alcohol.  Hate and bitterness?  God?

If we are so cracked up that the very king’s horses and soldiers who are supposed to rescue us can’t …where are we?  Left broken?  Forever?

I know in my heart I can’t, by sure will, or determination, or human love, be enough to fill that hole he has.  So all I can do is pray.  And not that trite stupid, placating type of prayer.  My prayer for him will be the same as my prayer for Martin.  For restoration.  For healing.  For a miracle that only God can manage. And I will pray it every day.

Only God can put Humpty Dumpty back together again.  Cause he is a hopeless case otherwise.  We all are.  He will chase what will satisfy the hurt and the pain for the moment but it won’t last.  It will always let him down.  But God won’t.  God on His terms.  God not Christianity.  Not a group of people who go to church.  Not a set of rules that church comes up with to follow.  The redemptive love that comes only from sacrifice of life itself is what will heal those cracks in his shell.  It is only Jesus.

I’m humbled tonight.  I’m sad.  And I’m forever indebted to the service of men like him who gave so much, some their very lives, for me.

Not a Match

It’s that darn sock analogy I keep thinking of in my head tonight.  Those lonely socks looking for their match.  Mercenary Guy was a good guy but he was not a match for me.  He was lonely.  I was certainly lonely but as our interactions played out there was a tension.  He naturally would think one way and I would naturally think another.  And I could chalk it all up to at least we had some fun and laughs and got some adult human interaction for a while.  But  that would be treating it too cavalier.  He bared his soul to me and he reached out.  I’m the one who said no.  It was too much too soon.  Maybe I really am not ready.

I told myself and I wrote in the last blog that I was not going to push myself to be braver than I felt comfortable.  And I gave it shot.  But I had to be true to myself first.  So I’m sure he’s mad at me right now.  Hopefully he will be able to see that I saved him from worse heartache had it gone on longer.  But it still sucks to hurt.  It sucks to be lonely. Four dates.

So now I feel like the rest of the planet.  Have some dates and think maybe but not every one is going to fit.  So you have to be a grown up and move on.

Even though I know I’ve done the right thing…since October…sometimes I miss my happy façade of a life with you-know-who.  Someday it won’t hurt so deep. But I know it still does and I’m just pushing it down.

The kids and I were at a local burger place tonight for dinner.  A song started playing and I started unconsciously shaking my head no.  My daughter saw and asked why I was doing that.  I don’t know where it came from.  I just started to ball.  One of those hiccup cries where it all comes out so fast you can’t stop it in time.  And I just said, “It makes me think of his stupid bald head bopping up and down like a Muppet.  He loved this song.”  Stupid.

My daughter pulled my head into her chest and told me she was sorry.  I sucked it up and we kept eating.

I’m not getting soft again.  I feel stupid sometimes for thinking he could be replaced though and I feel stupid for still loving him after everything he did.

I just couldn’t give this guy my heart nor should I cause it was all wrong.  I see that clearly now.  And I confirmed something  more and that is that this dating thing is really kind of a scary place to live.  I knew I wouldn’t like it and I don’t.

Lessons from Gidget

A few months back,  I watched this movie again and I marveled at the character of Gidget.  She is so full of fun and life and just simply does what she thinks is right and says what she thinks is right. She’s brave but in reality, doesn’t know the first thing about the world.  But somehow instead of the world gobbling her up, she seems to invade it with her outlook and enthusiasm.  And as I watched that movie, I thought to myself, “Man, that is how I used to be.  In high school, I was unstoppable.  I thought I could do anything and if I wanted to try, I did.  I was up to take on the world and smiled as I did it.

My ex was so much the opposite of me that I learned to reign myself in.  As I tried to be polite, and proper, and fit the mold of wife, mother,  and Christian, I reigned myself in even more.  It became who I was.  And I forgot about the Gidget I was and even started to see her traits as a negative, because every time I did anything that felt like me, it didn’t seem to go over well at home.

And when my ex left my spirit was broken.  After trying for years to be who he wanted me to be, I had also lost the me I was long ago.  Everything in my life came crashing down.  The weight was almost unbearable.  My ultimate life was a sham.

I had lived trying to do what the needlepoint said on Francine’s wall.  “To be a real woman is to bring out the best in a man.”  I tried and I failed.  Not that I wanted to fix anyone, but instead to be some kind of inspiration for them to be all they are.  What I’m really talking about is being a perfect complement to a man.  Where my personality is neither too strong, or too weak and we work together to make each other solid,  filling in each others gaps.

I’m learning to look for different things in a man.  Assertiveness, not aggression and not passivity.  Decisiveness, not opinionated beyond reason, or mr. go-with-the-flow. I’m finding, these two things are very important for me to find in a man, because if he doesn’t have them, I will tip the balance my way.  In the past, I’ve played it safe, in a sense.   I’ve always said I’ve wanted a strong man but then chosen men who end up being weak.

And maybe in this particular time period in my life I’m learning to be the old me again.  Not in every sense of the word.  Not a mid-life crisis where I want to regain my lost youth.  But in my sense of adventure.  In my ability to be the core me who I was before I was rejected.  Before I felt like a failure.  Before I thought I had done everything wrong.  I started to believe I was there with you-know who.  But his words said in anger and spite brought me back to that feeling of being not good enough.  I’ve battled that feeling most of my life.  I fight against that feeling every single day.

So with Mercenary Guy,  I’ve just been allowing myself to be all of me.  Not the reigned in me.  There is give and there is take.  We are talking a lot at these early stages about what we like and don’t like.  Everything’s on the table.   I am seeing some things that make me feel uncomfortable and I tell him, and what’s so different, is he’s listening and sometimes says, “Okay, I understand.”  And other times he says, “Well that’s how I am, so we’ll be different in that way.”   He laughs, he smiles, he says what he thinks.  It’s a little disarming.  Without knowing it at the time, I’m realizing now that I’ve always had the control of past relationships.  It just happened by default.  And it’s definitely not happening by default this time.

Maybe he will be a good complement to me?  Oh did you hear that!  I’ve gone and say that word again…Maybe. You know what that means.  That stupid magic love pill is starting to have its effect on me.  As Gidget would say, “I feel like I’ve been hit over the head with a sledgehammer.”

Part of me feels like she did sitting on the couch with the Kahuna at the beach house as he closes all the blinds.  I’m a  little timid wondering if  I can handle this man who is all man.  What will happen when I give him control?  When we share it?  It’s a whole new ballgame. But the Kahuna was no more going to take advantage of Gidget than she tried to suck him in.  Her mistake was not being true to herself.  And I can’t make that mistake.  I can’t be brave beyond myself.  That is not good for me so I won’t be.  But in the end she got to him.  He started to believe there was more to this world than only what he’d known.  That life and love could be richer.  His mask came off.

Maybe I’ll be a good complement to Mercenary Guy too?  Who I’m going to have to rename soon because he is much more than that.

We are having an effect on one another.  In a positive way.  And that is a good thing.  And good enough reason to keep moving forward being true to who we are.

Things Are Not Always What They Seem

When my ex was in high school, his mom was walking home from the market one day and was followed home by a pit bull. It was a stray. She tried shoeing it away but instead of taking off after she got into the house, the dog planted itself on the porch. Eventually, she let the dog in. They made flyers and got many phone calls from people claiming the dog as their own. But there was something very different about this pit bull. Her name was Sam. And she was gold in color and had gold eyes. She didn’t have the coloring of a typical pit bull, or the stereotypical personality. Call after call, described the wrong dog and eventually the calls stopped and the dog became the very best one they ever had. Sam was the sweetest, friendliest, and smartest dog who could also bite your face off if she wanted to. She had the instincts of a killer but the heart of a lover. Most people walking home with a strange, stray pit bull close behind would have called animal control. But they gave her a chance. And what they found out was she was not what she seemed. She was everything a pit bull could be. Strong, powerful, and dangerous. But her heart was full of love.

I remember when I started dating my ex, Sam would get riled up and her hair would stand on end, and she’d growl this amazingly loud and scary bark. My own instincts told me to curl myself into a ball of protection. But my ex learned that he could play with her, and lunge at her, and she was safe. Always was. She never lashed out at her family. Strangers who approached the house, or gave her reason to be wary were definitely in danger. She could kill if she wanted to. But we were always safe with her and perhaps even safer because of her.

Sometimes people aren’t what they seem either. Sometimes they can appear like this great family man who has lived a boring, quiet life and is absolutely harmless, and yet he can turn out to be someone who has the capacity to lie over and over and then be hurtful on purpose. And sometimes a man can look hard, and cold, and scary on the outside but be a gentle soul.

Mercenary Guy has proven to be a surprise at every turn. No doubt he has seen his share of brutality and violence. He has played a part in scenes I can only imagine because I won’t even let myself watch those kinds of movies. When he rolls up his sleeves he made a comment about his tattoos and I challenged him and said, “I thought you didn’t regret those”. But he was thinking that maybe they would make a difference to me. Maybe I would put him in a box, because of his job and the way he looked.

Of course I did. When he first asked me out to the movies I just didn’t think I was his ‘type’. To which he replied, “What do you think my type is?”

But the question I was asking myself was, “What is my type?” I knew the answer. Not him. Not a man’s man. Not someone who’d I’d expect to find at Hooters picking up the first girls with big boobs.

But so far he is crushing all the stereotypes. He is protective for sure. He is aware in a way no other man I’ve hung out with has been. Of the surrounding and the people. It’s interesting to watch him watch everything. He has this hard front that breaks down very quickly. And before he knows it he is snickering like he did back in high school. He remembers the boy he used to be, who was shy and only went on dates if the girl asked him. And a smile comes to his face that lights up the room.

In just a few hours we are laughing and he says, “Do you think if we had been interested in each other in high school we would have hung out?” And I said, “Nope.” And he said, “Yeah that’s what I thought.” We were sitting in a fast food restaurant scarfing down french fries after a walk on the beach. I leaned over and he kissed me. I thought, “It’s a good thing this isn’t high school.”

He is nothing like what I expected. It’s nice to have surprises. It’s nice to have the first kiss be perfection. Perfection. It’s nice to have this rough and tumble guy who has had life come screaming at him have the willingness to be vulnerable.

I think I’m going to give him a chance. No, I know I am. And I know for a fact I’m going to enjoy myself getting to know him. Instead of coiling up, I’m grabbing ahold and seeing that not only will he not hurt me, but I just might be safer with him than anyone. I’m not going to keep him waiting out on the porch for very long.

He is working a 16 hour shift tomorrow, so he went to bed early tonight. And before he fell asleep he was deliriously talking of love. He and I are both smitten. Captivated. And smitten. And falling in love is kind of like that. Once it gets rolling it’s hard to stop. Like deciding once you get going on the sled that you really don’t want to go down the snowy hill. You can dig your heels in and scrape the snow with your fingertips. But once that sled gets momentum there is no stopping it. By sheer force it will have its way.

He is on his way out of the country for a job soon. No more sled, no more snow.

I mentioned to him in chat that I was a music nerd. That I even liked disco and Barry White. On our way home from the beach he reached for his CD case and that all familiar baritone started playing. I looked at him and smiled, he smiled back and said, “I own two CDs.” I was floored. Just the night before as I lay in bed wondering what this night would be like. I consciously thought, and even thought to write about it in this blog but regrettably didn’t, “If he breaks out some Barry White…I will know that this is not just a date.”

I guess things are not always what they seem. Sometimes life can surprise you. Even shock you. And sometimes, life keeps getting better.

My Story

I’ve been thinking about writing a lot lately.  It means so much to me to be able to put my thoughts and feelings down and processed.  It’s a great outlet for a lonely person who has lots to say.  It’s crazy great to be able to read it back and realize that I have a gift that I’ve given to myself.  The ability to go back and read what I thought and felt, and remember with better accuracy what happened is pretty great.  Yes, it is also painful.  But it has also helped me so much through the years.

When I’m alone with nothing to do I start typing and am often surprised at what comes out.  But ultimately it is very simply my story.  Not a historical account, not a fictional novel, and not really written for or to anyone but me.

I have had a great week.  My life has been full.  Right now my house is full with visitors from out-of-town hitting Disneyland all week while their kids are off school. Three kids and two adults and sleeping bags all over the place.  They thanked me for allowing them to invade my home and I told them the entire evening I would have spent alone on the couch if it weren’t for them so I appreciated it as much as they did.  And that is the truth.

I managed to squeeze in a run last night while I waited for their arrival.  My son was at a senior citizen prom literally dancing with old ladies.  My daughter was playing for the pep band at a basketball game.  And I was making plans for a date tonight.  A real one.  And I’m excited.

Mercenary guy is headed out on another mission soon and will be gone for months.  I’ve gotten to know him through lots of talking and he’s funny and sweet and not as scary as you might think although what he does is very scary.  It’s only a date and it will be a nice change and it’s making me smile and it’s part of my story, so I’m telling it.

It’s my improvised life.  The ups, the downs and all the in betweens taking me places, giving me joys and heartache both.  What I do know, is I’m better for all of it.

A Bad Boy?

They say, the definition of crazy is repeating the same behaviors and actions you already know don’t work.  The same could be said about dating the same type of people you already know aren’t a good fit.  For example: sweet, sensitive guys who show their vulnerability early are the kind of guys I typically fall for.  They have their heart on their sleeve and appear so genuine.  In my experience, personally, I have found that men with these traits also want to please and they will do that in various ways.  Sometimes they buy their women things to make them happy.  Others tell things to their women to make them happy even if whatever they are saying is not true.  It’s kind of the equivalent to running up major debt buying purses and perfume and flowers you can’t afford.  Still other men who aim to please have a servant’s heart and just do things for their women…whatever they ask.

I’ve known all three types.  The Giver, The Talker, The Servant.  Even though their expression comes out in different ways, the motivation is the same.  They just want people to be happy and they’ll sacrifice and do anything to get a smile.

Been there done that with my ex, and others.  I don’t want a lop-sided relationship like that ever again.  Where you think you’ve met your prince charming who seems so great.  He lets you watch what you want on TV, he picks restaurants you like, he brings you things you like without you even having to ask for them.  You say thank you.  You say wow I didn’t expect this.  But after years of it.  You begin to expect it because that is just how he is.

You try being the giver but there really is only room for one because givers feel uncomfortable receiving.  And so it goes.

If I know this happens…I need to look for signs and mannerisms that are different than what I have described in a potential boyfriend.  Someone who may be a little rough around the edges.  Mature and thoughtful but more balanced.  Someone who doesn’t make it ALL about you but about him too.  Someone not SO nice. Maybe nice is not the right word…I mean, not so accommodating.  I don’t want someone to cater to me emotionally, physically, spiritually, or materialistically.  I want someone who will say, “Not that show…not tonight…come on let’s watch my show baby and I’ll make it up to you later ”  I want give and take.  I want someone to consider me without being inconsiderate to himself.  It’s hard to explain and there is a line between what I’m describing and a selfish jerk.  I don’t want that either.

H.S. Guy definitely did not fit my past mold.  He had a life and he carved out space for me in it but where a giver would have a candle lit meal waiting somewhere with my favorite flowers and beautiful music.  He moved some dishes off the counter that I hopped up onto to rest and drink my water while he looked through coupons for the local Thai place.  Believe it or not the fact that he just wanted to eat with me was enough and refreshingly spontaneous.

I don’t know what man I will let in next.  I’m kind of excited to find out.  I met one who I thought..maybe…but maybe turned into maybe down the road if he is ever single.  Yeah I can’t do that again.

There is one new guy who has my eye.  From a distance.  But he is different.  Really different.  Supremely different from other men I’ve been interested in.  My initial reaction was to dismiss him outright because of how many surface differences there were between us.  Me and the kids call him Mercenary Guy.  He and I went to high school together but didn’t know each other at all.  Now he’s a hired gun.  He works in security, some of it very high-profile.  He’s been to Iraq, Afghanistan, he’s on his way to Liberia.  He’s got tattoos.  Just doesn’t seem my type at all.  Out of the blue he asked me to the movies.  I said no.  I was watching and waiting.  So I said no.

But now, it’s a whole new ballgame.  My son thinks he’s a bad a$$ and said as much.  He said, “Mom he is living Call of Duty you have to say yes.”  haha.  All I can say is he definitely marches to his own drummer.  And yet he seems to be willing to wait and be patient.  He says my eyes draw him in….I think he’s liked every picture I have on Facebook,  which seems to be my problem with men.  They like me too much. But he, in taking no for an answer, shows that he respects me, which is more than I can say for others.  He’s polite, and yet he seems to be all man.  Which is kind of sexy.  Oh boy…

He’s not a bad guy but he could definitely classify as a bad boy.  He skipped his graduation to go surfing.  He hung out at Bible studies when he was a kid for the free food.  He joined the Marines and did his duty and some of it was not pretty.  He’s seen a lot.  If I’m Gidget he’s the Big Kahuna.  Only this Gidget is all grown up.

So who knows –  I might say yes.  Eventually.  I’ll keep talking to him at least.  Already, he has told me, I will have to sit down and watch all six Star Wars movies one at a time and that is a must.  In reply, I have told him, I will agree to those terms if he watches six of my favorite chick flicks.  We have a tentative deal…that is if I end up saying yes to a first date.  But something tells me, this is how it’s supposed to go.  Both people kindly, playfully even, but definitely asserting themselves.

So this might get interesting….

Over and Out

The transformation that has taken place in my heart and my head in the past three or four days has left me speechless.  Utterly.  Let’s just say I’m the kind of person you want if you’ve been charged with a crime on your jury.  I tend to give people the benefit of the doubt much longer than most people.  But even I have my limits.

It’s a sorry end to the optimism I held onto, the hope I held onto and the dream that will never be.  But it’s a victory for me and my dignity.

Sometimes things become very clear when you step back and watch.  Watch someone panic instead of trust.  It’s sad really.

After a four-month deliberation, the verdict is in for me.  No more watching and waiting.  This girl is done.

I asked for some space.  I did what I said I’d do.  He promised not to email me until the 16th.  But he went crazy and then got mean because I wasn’t answering him.  And then he assumed I was with another man and started sending me images that were supposed to make me jealous, and movies.  And then the attacks started again about how he was the only person who would ever truly love me and my entire family betrayed me. How people love me on Facebook and my blog because they don’t really know me.  But he does and he loves me but no one else will because I was a bad wife, a bad mother and a hypocrite of a Christian.

When I have shared what has happened with my closest friends and then show them the emails, their mouth literally hangs open and then all they can say is…”This is bad.”

It’s kind of like how the Matterhorn ride at Disneyland rattles my brain so much it hurts.  And even though the ride puts a guy’s legs wrapped around you and gives you the opportunity to lean back for a snuggle on your neck…the snuggle isn’t worth the pain.  It hurts too much to ride anymore.  I won’t ever go on it again.  The last few times I’ve been to Disneyland I thought maybe it was just how I sat, or how I felt that day and thought maybe it would be different.  But it’s the same every time. It just plain ol’ hurts too much.

I just want it to be over.  It is over.  I have gone soft for the last time. I promise.  This is it.

His last email was telling me he had spoken to a woman from Liverpool for 4 hours and they hit it off.  I don’t know why I had to know this.  I was glad.  I’ve been telling him for months to try to date and it would help him get over me. I just thought the email was mean.  Lots of it was mean.

I was wrong about him.  Really wrong.  Amazingly wrong.  I was sad for a long time about it.  But I’m good now.  Moving on.

Men Are Frogs

Warning to readers:  Dismal emotional content including pessimism, angst, and general consternation.  Read at your own risk.  Tomorrow will be a better day…And no offense to frogs.

I’ve spent some time reading old posts (again)  and I thought…how naive.  How silly and even juvenile I was to believe AGAIN what I had determined at the end of my marriage that ONLY crazy people believed.  That love could conquer all and that marriage was worth the pain risked.

Falling in love is like a magic spell. It makes people stupid.  It makes them believe.  While I enjoyed the fairytale adventure it is never what I craved.  No.  What I craved was a normal, trusting, comfortable, mutually satisfying, loving relationship.  Not the roller coaster we got.

Did it make for a good story?  You’re darn tootin’.  But it’s tired me out.  Yeah, I wish I could snap my fingers and get that awesome hug or kiss.  I want to wake up next to someone (who preferably doesn’t snore) without all the crap that comes with it (and by that I mean the lying kind of crap not the regular everyday crap cause I know that is real life.)

But I got on that roller coaster and I said, “I’m in.”  I knew the risks. I could potentially get very hurt.  And I was hurt.  Big surprise.

I wanted to feel the elation.  I wanted to squeal with joy.  I didn’t want to think about getting vomit splattered all over my face from the person in front of me puking their guts out.

What in the world would posses me to get back on that ride after that?  Any ride for that matter?  Why would I give my heart away again?  Ever?  Who wants puke on their face?

People lie.  People are no good.  They are selfish.  You can’t count on them.  It’s not worth it.  Period.

Am I in a bad mood?  I guess I am.  I know this doesn’t sound like me.  I know it.

Am I still ferociously mad at Martin?  Yes I am.  And this is me,  kicking and screaming trying to stay away from him when all he ever says is please, I love you, I’m sorry and shows me everything he is doing to make it right.  I’m not moving an inch.  I’m watching and waiting just like I said.  But it goes against my natural inclination and I hate that about me.  I hate that I am watching at all, and that I still care, or that even 1/2 % of me thinks maybe…like I thought maybe at the beginning of the relationship.  I was stupid to think maybe….

Sometimes I think it’s just better being friends with people – men.  Don’t mess it up with kissing.  Friends stay.  Love interests don’t.  Like a friend said to me the other day, men are frogs, they jump from lily pad to lily pad because they don’t wanna get wet. It’s the princesses who don’t mind getting wet.  It’s true sometimes.  Men leave.  Women pick up the mess.

UGH I still have such a broken heart.  All I can do is run.  Literally and figuratively.  That is the only thing that helps me lately.  I pray and I read my Bible, and I go to church, and that sustains me like my skeleton holds me up.  But the running keeps my fingers and toes from going numb with cold from lack of blood which makes me feel dead.  Pounding each step makes me feel like there is something I can do other than feel sad.

This princess wants to hang up her tiara.  No more princess parts for me please.  No more lily pads, no more frogs who think I should be on a pedestal – who can’t resist me.

And you know the funny thing…the stupid, idiotic, horrible thing….is I’m staying away from him in part, because I know in my heart he needs me to be out of his life  in order to “get better” and stronger.  And once he heals, his magic spell will be broken too, and he will realize how stupid he was for turning his whole life upside down for me.  He will come to his senses.  And jump to another lily pad far away from me for good this time.

He’s not there yet.  He’s still sending me pledges and trying to explain his panic and his regret.  I knew it was too good to be true.  I knew no one was that on fire to do something so huge and not have doubts.  He just didn’t discuss them with me.  He discussed them with other people.  And therein was his ultimate choice.  All I was – was a prize to him.  I wasn’t a person.  I was the princess he wanted as perfect as he could keep me.  As soon as I started looking like a normal person – one with flaws, stinking of the same thing we all do – he jumped.  As soon as it looked like he might get wet cause the river got too rocky, or scary – he jumped.  Cause men are frogs and that’s what they do.

I haven’t met one who isn’t yet.  And I’m beginning to think I never will.

A Thankless Job?

I’ve gotten used to being a single mom.  It’s been three years.  I’m used to their dad’s participation in their lives being a nightly 5 minute phone call and a weekly dinner that sometimes includes shopping for the occasional thing they need and sometimes when their schedule allows dad’s house two weekends a month.  Yes he does a little more than that, but I’m the one making sure they have food in their stomachs every day, and a  roof over their heads.  I’m the one sitting through two-hour band booster meetings on a hard plastic chair listening to the president drone on and on about everything under the sun –  twice.  I appreciate the dedication but nothing could be more boring.

I’m the one who gets the tears and fists clenched in frustration when I bring up the tender topic of my daughter’s math grade that got downgraded for participation points after too many excused absences which is not supposed to happen as retribution from core teachers against kids in band.  I learn things when I go to booster meetings…

I’m the one who gets the rude comments from my son when I interrupt his (insert leisure activity here) to do a task for me.  It can vary from playing Call of Duty, to watching Kyle XY, or playing his piano or guitar.  Tonight it was because he was on the phone.  I’m still working on manners, I have three more months before he turns 18.

I know I get the blessings too of being up front and personal with both my teenage kids.  It is something I would not trade for the world, so consider this pure venting on my part.  I miss having a partner to help me with all of this.  My ex lives too far away to help at a moments notice.  Thankfully he has contributed appropriately financially so far.  But I fear he will lose his job again in this economy.  It scares me, but I don’t think about it because I’ve learned it doesn’t help to worry about things you can’t control.

I knew it would be a thankless job all those years ago when I saw the plus sign after peeing on the stick.  In fact I cried, overwhelmed at the thought.  I knew it when I quit my job so I could dedicate myself more to my family’s needs and prided myself on play dates, home cooked meals, and homemade crafts that actually taught them something.  I knew it when my husband walked out the door with his clothes on hangers never to return.

I knew I had no option but to be there for my kids and give them sometimes hard messages but ones they needed nonetheless.  And I will be willing to do that forever.  But also to hold them when they need a good cry as they have done for me a few times in recent years.

When I get to feeling like this I need to remember that I have something priceless with my children.  Trust.  And many parents of teenage kids cannot say that.  I need to remember I have fun with them and laugh more than cry.

As I type this my son is jamming on his guitar and every few minutes yells out, “Give me a chord mama!”  And I yell, “Gmaj7″ back.  And then he serenades me with something amazingly beautiful.

As thankless as it is, I’m so sorry that this season of my life is almost over.  He graduates in three months.  My daughter the very next year.  Both will be in some form of college and then beyond to live hopefully happy and full lives.  I feel woefully inadequate to help them through those decisions but we will muddle through.

I know all the sacrifices will be worth it to see them jump up and down with that diploma and walk down the aisle.  But even more I know it will all be worth it when they call me, come over, and integrate me in their adult lives  not because they have to but because they want to.  That is my goal.  To stay close.

But tonight I’m a little on the weary side.  But I know it won’t be a thankless job in the end.

And of course as I’m done typing this entry he is in the kitchen telling me he ran the dishwasher while I was out and is asking if he should put away the leftover corn that was left on the stove.  Ok, maybe I should just be counting my blessings instead of feeling sorry for myself.  Of course I should.  Of course.

It is true with parenting as it is with anything else.  The hardest of tasks are usually the most rewarding. And sometimes you don’t realize it until it’s over.  Thankfully that is not me tonight.