I wasn’t sure if I should tell S. that her creepy-ass live-in was back on match.com.
I talked to her a few times at work today; she mentioned they were going to Ohio this weekend. I thought, well, everything seems okay; will she be pissed at me and think I’m trying to thwart her happiness?
Later on in the afternoon, she came back over to my cube to complain that she didn’t really want to go to Ohio. Then she said the magic words — she was looking for a reason to end it. So, I told her. I explained that, on a whim, I went to the site to see if Mark’s profile was back up then decided to look up creepy.
She asked me to check again. The MF was online then.
So she called her ex, to see if he could take their son this weekend, as she didn’t want him around to witness the carnage. Then she called the BF, to come get her — yes, come get her, because the lame-ass loser doesn’t have a car! — without telling him why.
While she was waiting, she came over yet again and said she felt relieved. I could tell a difference in her face. But she also looked so sad. She asked, “Do you think I’ll ever want to date again?” All I could do was give her a hug.
She said she thinks he’s been lying to her all along — duh — and it sounds like, based on her brother-in-law’s background check, the loser even may have been lying about his age. No driver’s licenses showed up in the two states he last lived in; actually, one one license showed up, in California, and while the month and day of birth were the same as the loser’s, the year was off by five. S. is 46. This guy said he was 49. What would five more years have mattered?
I told her I’d check in with her tomorrow. She was there for me after my break-up with Mark. Despite our snits, she’s a good friend.
On to the next topic … I thought some more today, mostly while zoning out on the exercise bike this a.m. — two times a week, I have to do something other than walk — and fuck Scott. Fuck Scott and fuck his money. I’m keeping it.
No, not one of mine lol. Remember this guy? Things have been going south with him and my friend S; I haven’t heard all of the details yet, but sS told me today her sister is very suspcious of him and he’s upset that she hasn’t stood up for him. I asked S if her sister had reason to be suspicious, and the reply was one that women everywhere should be familiar with: A sigh, followed by “I don’t know …”
Out of curiosity, I went to match.com tonight and first looked up Mark’s profile (no longer listed) then typed in S’s bf’s user name. His ad had been down before — but now it’s back up! What a dick.
Guess he’s looking for the next one. Poor S. It’s so difficult to watch a friend make bad decisions — esp. b/c this relationship has affected her work life too. I may be a train wreck sometimes, but that doesn’t mean I want other people to be too …
In other news, I saw my therapist today for the first time in about five weeks. I was recapping my weekend — complete with the parents, Scott and Ryan — and she was floored when I mentioned the $100 for lingerie. First, she was just creeped out. Then I could tell, throughout the hour, she was thinking about that, as she kept bringing it up. To her, the cash offering was an insult to me and my worth as a person; that Scott and I didn’t have a level of intimacy in our relationship commensurate with the purchasing of lingerie; and the entire act was disconnected and devoid of any emotion, other than perhaps lust.
She thinks I should return the money.
I protested, saying it was his damn idea and he shouldn’t have given me the $$ if he had been thinking about breaking up with me.
She countered that it’s not about the money at all; that by reducing my value to a dollar amount, he demonstrated a lack of respect for me; and that someone — ie me — needs to tell him that was he did was inappropriate and unacceptable.
I protested still, first complaining that I’m tired of being the one to teach lessons, and then repeating my earlier claim that it was his damn idea, and besides, he makes more money than me so I should get to keep his damn money.
But I see her point.
I was uncomfortable from the get-go with the idea, and talked myself into feeling okay about it because it seemed naughty and fun. But I didn’t want my first time with someone new to be naughty; yes, I like my sex fun and frisky and more than missionary, but once the element of cash was introduced, well, it’s just weird.
But I’m still not sold on the idea. It doesn’t matter, however, what his intentions were — it still was a misguided and inappropriate action for the stage we were at. I always have tried to be open and accepting, but I think I’m too open and accepting sometimes. If a guy weirds me out, then he’s gone — there are too many others out there to put up with a guy’s creepy sexual proclivities.
I know most of y’all will think that I should just keep the money and the lingerie and shoes. But looking back on all of the money he spent on our dates, I feel like he was just purchasing an escort to watch him jack off — and I feel sad for me and for him. Yes, I’m a hell of a date — I’m fun, I’m smart, I’m funny, I’m cute — but I can’t be bought, and certainly not for $100.
The “say my name, bitch!” shoes …
With a can of soda as a reference …
The shoes I bought with part of the $100 from Scott arrived today.
I will have to post a photo. They must be seen to be believed.
I had to sit down to put them on, as the five-inch heel was much too high for me to use as a balance test. Once my tootsies were wedged in, I stood. Oddly, my left foot felt fine while my right felt like it was about to break in half. Okay, no walking. I did like how much taller I looked in the mirror, though. I had to sit back down to take the damn things off.
I can only imagine the calamity that will ensue when I actually wear these shoes. My best bet will be to put the shoes on while lying down and stay that way. I doubt my companion will have many objections to that plan.
More e-mails all day from Ryan plus a few text messages received while at the second job. I am not sure what my next move with him will be, as I can’t use sex as a bargaining chip lol. He has pointed out more than once as of late that his roommate — Melinda — is only a roommate. He also has pointed out that moi has “cast a spell” on him. Any ideas to seduce him emotionally? God help me, gang, I do like the guy.
Did you see “Cold Case” tonight? Holy shit, that was some good TV. I usually watch the show, and it’s always all right, but I was transfixed tonight. I felt like a dork, sucked in by the show, but this one was great. Plus they played one of my favorite songs, “Hallelujah,” at the end (not sure who the singer was. Not my beloved Jeff Buckley.)
Okay, so both Some Girl and Gidget tagged me …
Six Things About Me That Are Weird
1. I cried like a baby each time “NYPD Blue” lost one of its male leads. David Caruso was the worst, followed by Ricky Schroeder and Jimmy Smits. Sharon Lawrence gets an honorable mention; the phrase “take care of the baby” still makes me tear up.
2. I have never smoked anything. Ever. I can’t even operate a lighter.
3. I teach my pets to answer to alternate names, even my cats. Mr.Man answers to Joe, too. Reggie answers to Doodle, Bug or Bug-Bug. My dog, Oliver, who lives with his dad, also answered to Poochie and Poochielicious.
4. I am terrified of grasshoppers.
5. I sleep with a fan on to keep the room cool, but then I turn on my heated mattress pad because I’m cold.
6. I have never watched “The Lion King.” Can’t bring myself to do it. No good reason, it just seems to irritate me.
Okay, Watchdog, Carmen and Izzy, you’ve been tagged!
I ditched the parents this afternoon — said I wanted to take a nap — and sent a text message to Ryan. He was at the Lowe’s near my house, abandoned his cart of mulch and came on over. (He said he actually had to abandon his cart as he had a visible erection. Hee hee.)
I told Ryan last night that things with the “other guy” were over. I also told him about the $100-cash-for-lingerie deal. He thought it was weird but seemed excited he would benefit.
This morning I went through my post-break-up thought process, which always is, “I need to stop dating and I need to stop seeing Ryan.” I’m glad I didn’t follow through with that, as this afternoon was a sheer delight. Sigh.
He’s going to be umpiring some softball games starting next month, and mentioned me coming to see him. I told him he’d have to have me over to watch playoff hockey on his big-ass TV and he readily agreed. He also talked about taking me out to dinner, mainly to wear the Scott-purchased lingerie.
As always, we’ll see if any of this pans out.
But, he definitely made me ask, “Scott who?”
I was reading my post from yesterday and realized I outed myself as “Catherine.”
Yes, shockingly, Monique is my nom de plume. Last July when I started this blog, I didn’t want anyone I knew to read it. Now I don’t give a rat’s ass.
So the Monique is staying, but if you’re nice, you can call me Catherine. ; )
Gidget has a little more than a day left as my renter … pay her a visit!
She’s a nice antidote to my whiny-ass mood.
Stop by and see what she is up to!
In response to my phone call, I receieved this text message from Scott: “I need to end this. For whatever reason, I thought I was ready to have this element back in my life. Needless to say, I’m a long way from that. Catherine, I’m sorry. You deserved much better than this. I’m not nearly the person I had hoped to be.”
Well, hell if I ain’t heard that one before.
So I sent him an e-mail in response, saying his desire for me to be more open with him struck me as ironic, as I knew he was holding back. Emotionally, I knew he still had a lot of guilt over ending his enagement. At the end I was honest; it may come across as guilt trippy, but it’s true — I really wanted this to work.
Son of a bitch.
Actually, I am sure that it can and that it will.
My parents and brother are in town. Last night was fine. Today, I drove 90 minutes to the southern part of the state to this fun area that I like. They hated it. My dad sat in the car. My brother barely said 10 words. My mom complained it was hot.
We were there 30 minutes.
I drove 90 minutes back home.
So I had plenty of time to think, and thought, fuck this shit with Scott.
So I called him when I got home.
He was in the car. I pretty much put it out there, and he said, “No, it’s fine.” Then changed the fucking subject to a thunderstorm we had last night. I kept changing the subject back. I finally said, “If you want to end this, it’s fine — just answer one way or the other.”
He said he didn’t want to talk about it in the car and he’d call me back.
What the fuck ever.
Cross him off the fucking list.
Now I have my family to deal with. All I wanted was for us to have a nice day and instead, it was a disaster.
Nice.
Later:
It’s been nearly two hours since I posted this and I haven’t heard from my family or Scott. I actually missed my ex today. He always knew how to deal with my parents and reassure me that I was doing the best that I could. It’s not Scott so much that bothers me — just another example that I should trust my intuition — but I am 31 years old, I have spent more than two years in counseling and still, I am trying to create a family relationship I know is unrealistic. I just really thought today could be a nice day. Instead, it’s 5:45 p.m., I’m at home, they’re at the hotel, and I wouldn’t be suprised if they didn’t even call tonight. What hurts the most is that I try to make the best of it when I’m visiting them. Why couldn’t they have bucked up and at least enjoyed the fucking ride?
I can’t remember the last time I felt so alone.
In an ironic twist, the lingerie I ordered with Scott’s money arrived yesterday. It’s cute. I guess I’ll wear it for Ryan.
I think asking Scott to have dinner with me and my brother really weirded him out. I only asked him because the restaurant was so close to his apartment. I’m hoping I do hear from him at some point, because I’d like to know what changed. Something definitely did, for both of us. Damn it.
