The irony? I sobbed in my car the first time I heard this song.
 Your Summer Anthem is Best Of You by the Foo Fighters I’ve got another confession my friend While you may seem bright on the outside, your insides have a distinct angst flavor. |
∗ Posted by Monique on 07.10.2005
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I haven’t been listening to much music lately. I mean, it seems like I’ve always got a CD in or my iTunes on, but I keep playing the same songs over and over again. I used to be so into music — I used to know what was new, what was now, what was going to be great. Now I’m lazy. My favorite radio station is one that is so corporate that there aren’t even and DJs. And I’m not really ashamed. I know I should support independent radio — but how can I when, oh my god, Jack FM is playing a Prince song I loved when I was 13?! (My sarcasm is only mild, because I’m pretty serious.)
One band I loved, loved, loved was Blue Rodeo. I spread the word far and wide, this band was so good. They’re still around but as far as I’m concerned, they peaked with the oh-so-brilliant Five Days in July CD from about 1993. The song “Five Days in May” is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever heard.
They met in a hurricane
Standing in the shelter out of the rain
She tucked a note into his hand
Later on they took his car
Drove on down where the beaches are
He wrote her name in the sand
Never even let go of her hand
Somehow they stayed that way
For those 5 days in May
Made all the stars around them shine
Funny how you can look in vain
Living on nerves and such sweet pain
A loneliness that cuts so fine
To find the face you’ve seen a thousand times
Sometimes the world begins
To set you up on your feet again
It wipes the tears from your eyes
How will you ever know
The way that circumstances go
Always gonna hit you by surprise
I know my part
You were there
In everything I’ve done
You are the one
Looking back it’s hard to tell
Why they stood while others fell
All I know is one cloudy day
They both just ran away
Rain on the windshield heading south
She loved the lines around his mouth
Sometimes the world begins
To set you up on your feet again
It wipes the tears from your eyes
How will you ever know
The way that circumstances go
Always gonna hit you by surprise
I know my part
You were there
In everything I’ve done
You are the one
I think what has always drawn me to this song is the idea of finding your “one.” I’ve never been a believer in the “soul mate” concept, the idea that there is just one person out there for you. But maybe that’s because I haven’t met mine.
At this point in my life, however, I wouldn’t know a “soul mate” if it bit me in the ass. For the first few years of my relationship with my ex, I was amazed because everything was so “easy.” We never fought. So what if we didn’t have a ton of sex — we were married. When I embarked upon an ill-fated, half-assed emotional “affair” with a bisexual/gay man with whom I had more passion than I did with my husband, well, that’s when I knew my life was pretty fucked up.
I’m learning there is good drama and bad drama … and I have had more than my share of bad drama for a while.
I’m ready for a man to say, “You were there in everything I’ve done. You are the one.”
∗ Posted by Monique on 07.09.2005
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My first post-divorce fling is over. Finally. I think. Okay, I should say that I’ve ended things with MJCF (”my job comes first”) at least three times in the past six months, but I’ve always fallen for his charms. Each time, however, my patience wore a little more thin.
What did it for me, this time, was his explanation for standing me up, again: When he makes plans with his friends, it’s “maybe” they’ll get together for dinner or “maybe” they’ll play poker. (Apparently sleeping with me fell into this category of things he’d “maybe” like to do.) Then he has the nerve to not even apologize, except to say, “Sorry I screwed things up.” Not “sorry I didn’t call.” Not “sorry I didn’t e-mail.” Not “sorry I forgot in the span of three hours that I said I would come over.” When I asked him why, if he knew it would irritate me if he didn’t show up, he didn’t show up? He said, “I guess I am just weird like that.” No, asshole, it means you are just an asshole like that.
You know why I put up with so much of his lame-ass crap? Because the sex was so good. Or because the sex with my ex was so bad. In either case, for a girl who has always been lacking in confidence when it comes to appearance and desirability, it was fun to be wanted. But when I started feeling like a whore who wasn’t even getting paid — oh, how can I forget about the cup of gas-station coffee and the movie ticket he paid for? — I knew it was time that my dignity won out over my desires.
To be honest (and why shouldn’t I be?), here’s the real reason I let things go on so long: Because I truly could not believe that someone I was intimate with could have such little regard for me as a person. I didn’t really make excuses for him — hell, he has my cell, my personal e-mail, my work e-mail, my yahoo messenger name; I knew he could reach me if he wanted to — but in a way, I did. I attributed more goodness and decency to him that he deserved.
You know what bothered me most of all about MJCF? He never even told me I was pretty. Once, I even told him that smart women want to be told they’re beautiful and beautiful women want to be told they’re smart. (If I had a lipstick for every time I’ve been called “smart,” my apartment would look like Sephora.) He didn’t even take the bait. He told me that if a woman were smart, she should know that she was worth more than sex to a man. Apparently, that “man” MJCF was speaking of was not himself. It’s not even that I wanted to date him — I guess after sleeping with him for so long it just seemed like we should. But that’s always been my problem … torn between what I want and what I “should.”
So I know MJCF isn’t the only lay in the sea, but damn, the ocean seems pretty far away from the midwest …
∗ Posted by Monique on 07.06.2005
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It’s not that I’ve never liked to work hard. It’s just that I’m, well, a little bit on the lazy side. There are some people who can’t stand to sit still if there’s laundry to be done or the bathtub could stand be to scrubbed. Not me. There’s nothing better than a lazy day spent on the couch with a good book or a trashy Lifetime movie.
Needless to say, starting a second job was quite the shock to my system. Well, not quite as big of a shock as realizing that I needed a second job. My lifestyle over the past few months has been a bit more fabulous than my budget allowed. My rent ain’t cheap, I drive an SUV, I ate lunch out on a fairly regular basis, I see a therapist weekly (the sliding scale definitely does not slide in my favor), I bought new clothes, etc. etc. etc. And I wondered why my savings account was basically gone and my paycheck didn’t stretch as far as it need to.
When I was married, the ex made a good income, roughly twice mine with bonuses (financial rewards for the long hours that hastened the end of the relationship). Material goods partially soothed the emptiness I felt and I really didn’t deny myself much. It was what I “deserved” for putting up with his crap.
I never learned to live within my means … so for the past week I’ve been working my “real” job from 7:30 to 4:30, then driving 35 minutes or so the part-time job and working there from 5:30 to 10:30 p.m. I get home around 11, read the mail, feed my cats (who hate me, I swear), wash my face and fall into bed. Because the project I’m working on is ending, weekend work was “optional” (i.e. encouraged) so I put in five hours on Saturday and another seven today. Between the two jobs, I worked 70 hours last week. 70! No wonder I slept 14 hours Saturday night.
This is only a temporary gig but will start up again at the end of September. As crazy as the hours are, it’s satisfying to be so busy — and I would much rather do this than (horror) ask my parents for money. (For starters, I can’t imagine explaining my frivolity to my dad, who drives his cars for 7-10 years each.) I’m guessing my check for the two weeks’ work will be around $450, which, on top of my regular salary ain’t bad.
So, this week, I’ll be waiting for the night to fall … because then I can finally sleep.
∗ Posted by Monique on 07.04.2005
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Water brings me peace. 
∗ Posted by Monique on 07.03.2005
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So this is my first Independence Day weekend since my divorce. Yeah, I know, the fourth of July isn’t really on the list of holidays on which on wants to be a part of a couple, but this is the weekend that my ex moved out of our house in 2004. Granted, I wanted the divorce and the things he’s done (or hasn’t done) since have cemented that decision for me, but it’s just that — and I know how lame this sounds — I never expected being single to be this difficult.
The ex never wanted to go out or do much of anything — aside from work — so I didn’t have many friends to lean on. I have developed some great friendships over the past year, but it’s hard not having a partner, someone I can count on to go to a concert or movie with, or just bum around on a Friday night. My entire family is in another state — and they have visited me exactly zero times in the past year, while I’ve gone to see them at least six. That hurts.
I hibernated for about six months, a bottle of shiraz my weekend companion. Then, near the end of 2004, I felt like it was time to rejoin the world. So what’s the first thing I try to do? What every single person does — get laid. Of course, not having been single in nearly 10 years, I had no idea what to do or where to go, so I turned to the internet, at the suggestion of a couple friends. I created a saucy screen name and in short order “met” this guy (let’s call him … MJCF or “my job comes first”) who lived not too far from me. After a month of flirtation, we hooked up — and my one-night-stand turned into, shit, six months of drama. Good Lord, I didn’t think it had been that long. Six months of “just” sex = ? You tell me.
Writing about MJCF isn’t helping my feelings of loneliness and confusion. I need a drink.
∗ Posted by Monique on 07.03.2005
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