All of my sleep over the past three weeks seems to have caught up to me, as it is 2:30 a.m. and I’m awake. To be honest, I’m kinda sick of my bedroom. I’ve spent a lot of time in here lately! Maybe the Cymbalta finally is working, maybe it’s the hour of cardio every day, I don’t know. But at least today I felt more like me than I have in quite some time. And along with that feeling is another feeling that it is time to clean house. Not literally, ’cause y’all know that I hate to do that. But metaphorically or whatever shit you want to call it.
My passive-aggressive post the other day with the stats was directed at Ryan. Yes, Ryan aka BoyToy. I know, I have sworn off of him how many times? But maybe it’s the Cymbalta, maybe it’s the cardio, maybe it’s me starting to lose weight, but what I have known all along is staring me in the face: He. Is. A. Dumbass. It doesn’t matter how much fun we had together, how good the sex was, whatever. He. Is. A. Dumbass. I’m tired of being in the shadows. I’m tired of him only wanting to be with me on his terms. I’m tired of his excuses. I’m tired of his inconvenient memory. And I’m really fucking tired of his fucking Penn State clothing, which seems to be the only fucking clothing that he owns.
*Claps hands, opens palms*
I’m out.
So what led me to this point, finally? About two weeks ago, I e-mailed him and asked him what he was doing on the 21st. I received an offer for super-cheap Pacers tickets. He said he probably wasn’t doing anything but his friend Steve bought tickets for either that game or the one that following Sunday, and he would check with Steve. And … that was that. No, “I can’t go.” No, “I don’t want to go.” No nothing. And the ass was even signed into Yahoo Messenger on the night of the 21st so he was even home! It was at that moment that I thought, Monique, what the fuck are you doing? You are letting this guy treat you like shit. And for what? A few orgasms? Please.
Consider this step three, after joining Weight Watchers and committing to working out, in my “Be Good to Monique” plan for 2007. ‘Cause any man who doesn’t want to be with me both in public and in the bedroom ain’t being good to Monique.
from the book signing I went to the other night …
Me, Shelly and Jill Conner Brown, the Sweet Potato Queen
Me with Kyle, the number 1 Spud Stud
P.S. How fabulous is my coat? I LOVE IT!!!!
This must be former flame week. I submitted a piece to Ruined Music a while ago, and it was posted today. It’s about me, the former flame and his CDs of love. It makes me sad to read it, but glad that part of my life is in the past.
There’s a truth in your eyes sayin’ you’ll never leave me
“When You Say Nothing at All” by Alison Krauss
by Monique
I got married young, at twenty-three. By the time I met John I had been married for five years and with my husband for nearly eight years. John and I worked together, although we lived in different states. We spoke on the phone occasionally, but we kept our conversations strictly professional. For some reason he made me nervous, even though we hadn’t met. There was just something about his voice that got to me.
About two months after we started working together, we met. We were on the same flight and I walked over to his seat to introduce myself. I had seen his photo and thought he was attractive, but I wasn’t prepared for my reaction to him. We shook hands. Time stood still. Our hands stayed entwined for much longer than was necessary. We were both speechless. I swear, I felt sparks when we touched. I told him I would find him after we landed and I went back to my seat. As I fastened my seat belt, I noticed the diamond in my engagement ring sparkling in the dim light. I felt guilty.
Over the next few months John and I talked more and more. He began calling me daily; sometimes we’d talk for an hour at a time. He traveled a lot, and sent me gifts from the road – CDs, cards, silly little things he’d pick up at the dollar store. My co-workers figured it out even before I did. I thought he was just being nice. They knew he wasn’t. It wasn’t until he started to call me in the evenings that I knew something was happening.
The first CD he sent me was by Prince. My husband was incensed. I remember him saying, “You don’t send a girl that kind of music. That’s music you listen to when you fuck!†I laughed it off. Not surprisingly, my husband and I were growing more distant. I loved John’s attentions. Still, I never wanted it to become serious, although I did have a sense that it would all end badly – mainly because I knew there was something John wasn’t telling me. He never spoke about his personal life, and I knew he had to have one. He was young, good-looking, and successful. I had my suspicions, but I was afraid to ask.
That summer John and I wound up in Miami together for work. We were tentative around each other at first, and then I think we both thought, the hell with it, something has to happen. So one evening, after many martinis, we sat alone and talked about “us.†He told me that he had convinced himself that he was gay until he met me. That the way he felt about me, he hadn’t felt about anyone, man or woman, in years. That he thought he couldn’t feel that way again. He had told people about me, even people who knew he was gay – told them that he had met a girl, Monique, and she was so pretty and smart and funny.
The conversation went on for hours; I wish I could remember it all. In the end we acknowledged that we had feelings for each other – he swore he was attracted to me not only emotionally and intellectually, but physically – but what could we do? I was married, and he told me he was in a relationship, although he wouldn’t say a word about his boyfriend. The rest of the week was a blur: I knew things would never be the same between us, and I almost wished we hadn’t acknowledged our feelings.
When I returned from the trip, my husband confronted me about John as soon as I walked in the door. I told him that John liked me and I liked him, but he was gay and we were going to be friends. My husband said he didn’t think we could. It was a horrible fight. I finally told my husband what I had known for months – that I wanted a divorce.
John called me a few days later to see how I was. I told him about the divorce, that I was relieved but scared. John was leaving on vacation – with his boyfriend, though he still wouldn’t tell me anything about him – but said he had a CD to send me that should make me feel better. When I received his CD I looked at the track list and burst into tears. They were love songs – not songs you send someone who is just your friend, and definitely not songs you send to someone who is divorcing her husband. The first song was “When You Say Nothing At All†by Alison Krauss. I remember I nearly drove my car off of the road listening to the lyrics: “It’s amazing how you can speak right to my heart / Without saying a word, you can light up the dark / Try as I may I could never explain / What I hear when you don’t say a thing.â€
My relationship with John deteriorated over the next few months. Whenever we talked he asked me about my husband: Have you filed for divorce yet? Have you put your house on the market? How often do you see him? Even when he called on my thirtieth birthday, he kept taking the conversation back to my husband. Have you talked to him? What did he get you? Are you going to see him? And then, when I talked to my husband he only wanted to ask about John. It was exhausting. John and I had one last lunch together, and when he still wouldn’t tell me about his partner – no name, nothing – I knew we couldn’t be friends. I believe who we love does not define our worth as people, but John was so firmly convinced that he’d lose all his friends if he were openly gay, and well, I couldn’t support that. I told him he could use me as a “cover†if he felt he needed to, but I didn’t want to know about it.
I wrote him a long letter after that lunch and I never got a reply. It’s been over two years since we last spoke. I hear of him occasionally, and when I see a man with short black hair and olive skin, sometimes I think it’s him. I still can’t listen to that Alison Krauss song without my chest tightening. I saw her in concert last summer and when she sang “When You Say Nothing at All,†a friend held my hand until the song ended. It didn’t help.
January 2006
Rang in the new year with my surprisingly not-impotent-for-once boyfriend, Mark. I was pissed b/c his cable wasn’t hooked up yet and I couldn’t watch Dick Clark. He met my friends, then broke up with me a week later. I vented publicly and then cried. All in all, not a good month.
February 2006
Still smarting from the break-up, I didn’t eat for a week and then developed a sinus infection. Oh yeah, I was on a roll. But my brother and NYC Watchdog both threatened to kick Mark’s ass, so that was nice. I got the second inkling that my therapist may be a whack job. One of my good friends started dating a con man. That was bad.
March 2006
I started going out with Scott, a guy who I originally thought was “too nice” for me. Ha. We got off to a slow start but things went ok. For a few weeks at least. But before it all fell apart, he did call me out on not making myself vulnerable emotionally. I tried to make a joke of it, ha. Eh, kind of a slow month.
April 2006
In one of my most popular posts, I recounted the tragic tale of Pastor Carl, he of the smallest wee wee ever. Then Scott gave me $100 to buy lingerie. That was kinda weird. The relationship ended before he had a chance to see the garter belt and 5″ heels I bought with his cash. Oh well. The con man saga continued. I had an awkward run-in with Ryan and his father. Then I got pissed off and gave Ryan my blog address.
May 2006
So Ryan made his way through my blog archives. That was mildly horrifying for me. I declared my intent to have a great ass. Ryan dared to come over to my apartment wearing sandals and socks. The photo still makes me shudder. I attended my first wedding since getting divorced and decided the thought of remarriage made me feel ill. I fixed my own smoke detector, disclosed my struggles with depression, took an HIV test, nearly broke both my legs in a bathing incident, compiled the obligatory 100 things about me list, and ran into someone from my former life as a Sunday School teacher. Busy month.
June 2006
I started out the month by breaking up with my therapist. Crazy biatch. What I was looking for in a relationship started to become more clear, but then went right ahead and had some good sex anyway. (But a week later, I was pissed off at the lucky gent again.) I had a few run-ins with my ex-husband, first about taxes and then about some lame-ass text messages he and his then-gf sent me. In more fun, I had to ask my parents for money. My second job provided me with some entertainment, my co-worker taught me a new phrase, plus I learned what a corn-hole toss is.
July 2006
On the 3rd, I celebrated a very special day — my one year blogiversary spectacular. I received a drunken txt from a coworker, an e-mail from my ex-bf Mark pimping his latest community theatah project and a lot of sympathy for yet another night spent moping over my ex. I found out that I wasn’t pregnant, mocked the new use of my childhood bedroom, and nearly was charged $300 for shipping from IKEA. I mourned the marriage of my favorite WT crush, Kid Rock and won a contest on one of my favorite sites. Eh, the humidity must have slowed me down in July … Oh wait, I did have my first (and only, I think) protected post. And so few of you took the opportunity to read it. Sigh.
August 2006
I started out the month by complaining about how few people asked for the password to my first protected post. Ryan and I discussed porn and Kriss Kross. I cried over “The Life Aquatic,” the last movie my ex and I saw together; I canceled a date and felt kinda bad about it; I nearly died walking 5 miles; and I bemoaned my lack of anonymity. My ex showed up at my tanning salon and then saw him again (or so I thought). I came down with tonsillitis, finally went back to work and then went back to the doctor for a shot in the ass. I started feeling better, but then had an allergic reaction on the same day I had to give a major presentation. Obviously feeling better, I was in the middle of an intimate encounter when my cat intruded. That was awkward. My hairstylist cautioned me against sex while on antibiotics while my friend walked in on her ex-husband jacking off.
September 2006
Once again, I thought about leaving this site, or at least taking a little break. I had blue toenails, went floating to relax, had to deal with seeing my ex at yet another work event, and started seeing lots of people from my past. I went to a play and saw one more person. Crazy. Then, a jackass from the past resurfaced, I wrote a few haiku and I wondered if I qualified as “quirkyalone.” Reggie lost his brush-brush, my therapist called - again, and someone tried to break into my apartment. Good times.
October 2006
I got a new job plus made a date with my ex-husband. I learned numerology, went on the date with my ex and then talked about the experience some more. I reposted the reason why I love NYC Watchdog, as well as lyrics to a really good song that fits my mood a lot. My birthday was celebrated with balloons, lots of balloons, and a party. Ryan and I stopped seeing each other. Again. I talked to a drag queen, learned a new song, got very drunk and went dancing, then got mad at myself and realized I was a bitch. In a bad way.
November 2006
I started out the month with a business trip to Atlanta. Then, my mom gave me crap, but what else is new? I attended a class called “controlling your clutter, which, fyi, hasn’t worked yet. My ex called to tell me he was promoted, again and my brother e-mailed me a very wise message about not getting involved again with the ex. I found an old post that resonated with me and answered one of the dumbest questions ever at work. Despite being “too busy” to go out, my ex continued to do stupid shit, like send more lame-ass text messages. I had a date and it was a dud. Ryan showed up again, my parents discussed Xzibit, I went to Vegas and won some cash.
December 2006
I supported Global Orgasm Day and recorded first-ever audio post. I discovered I am a Tantric Master, trotted out my first high school column, posted my phone number, and wrote about my continued feeling of … blah. More crap from the ex, I confronted an ex-boyfriend, and bought myself a sweet-ass coffee maker. My brother gave me an awesome Steve Seagal clip to put up for Christmas then my dad gave us really weird Christmas presents. Finally, NYC Watchdog said some really nice things about me. I’m no. 2 on his list, yo.
That I just drive off in my car
But you can travel on ten thousand miles and still stay where you are.” — Harry Chapin
Tonight, I’m surfing around, looking at different things, and came across a site about teaching English abroad. And, of course, it sounds like a wonderful idea. But, I know leaving the country won’t solve my current state of … discontent.
So what will?
I am not one to make new year’s resolutions — the pressure is too much and I will fail to spite myself — but Watchdog has me thinking about the year that is right around the corner. I’ve decided 2007 is going to be about me, and making me happy. Not in a hedonistic, I’m gonna date and get laid type way (although, who am I kidding? I SO would!), but in a I’m gonna pay attention to me way. I’ve found a volunteer group I am going to join next month — they offer opportunities to do things like usher at plays and sporting events. That way I can meet new people and do more things on my own.
I also am going to pay more attention to my spirituality. Now, the Bible Belt is not the place for people like me. My first weeding technique for a church is to look at their leadership for the name of at least one woman. I am still amazed at how many churches have all-male leadership. I wasn’t raised in any particular faith and have always been more of a seeker anyway. My good friend attends a more nontraditional church, and I’ve attended services there a few times. I like it. It’s not like I do anything on Sunday mornings other than drink coffee, read the paper and watch HGTV.
And I’m going to start being more responsible when it comes to my finances so I can follow some crazy dream, like going abroad to teach English when I’m 40, and I’m going to start being more thankful for what I do have, instead of what thinking about what I gave up materially a few years ago when I divorced.
And btw if you’ve never listened to a Harry Chapin song other than “Cats in the Cradle,” you should. Genius. “W.O.L.D.,” “Mr. Tanner” and “A Better Place to Be” are three good ones to start with.
I’ll be damned if the words don’t say it all.
I may hate myself in the morning …
Listen here.Â
One year ago today I started my blog. At that time, I thought that an online journal would be easier than keeping up with my paper one, and had no idea that so many people would be interested in my little life.
I feel like something special is warranted to mark the occasion, and I’ve started drinking in hopes of helping the inspiration move along. It’s not yet working.
I thought about making a list of all that’s changed in my life over the past year, but I really can’t. It’s not like anything is drastically different, but I’m different, thanks to a lot of hard work, money spent on therapy, and a year’s worth of life experiences.
Thank you to each of you who have left me comments over the past year; the thoughts you’ve shared have been invaluable in helping me gain perspective. I’d like to give special thanks to NYC Watchdog, my first blogging buddy (and it’s his birthday today too!), Izzy, Some Girl and Mr. Fabulous, for all of your virtual assistance over the year.
And now, here’s a photo, of Monique, the way I was before blogging corrupted me … LOL
My phone rang this morning at 5:15 a.m. 5:15 a.m.! It was my ex-husband. I ignored the call.
No message.
Irritated, I sent him a text. “Why did you just call?”
What follows is the text-message exchange that ensued:
Ex: “Sorry. My girlfriend and I were just talking about past mistakes.”
Me: “Nice. Like me? Or your phone sex calls?
Ex: “Called u on accident. But girlfriend understands past. Thanks 4 bringing it up. Tell John I said hi.”
Me: “Oh snap. Not. It’s cute that you tell me you have a girlfriend every chance you get. Newsflash: I left you.”
Phone rings. It’s the ex. I ignore the call.
Ex: I assume this message is to show he does indeed have a lady with him. “Newsflash he is my man, but he acciendtly (sic) called u.”
Me: “Oh my God, this is so lame. I don’t want your man and I haven’t wanted your man for quite some time, hence the reason he IS your man. I’m sure you’re a lovely replacement for me.”
Ex: “Good night.”
Oh my God. First the asshole fucking calls me on my ONE morning to sleep in. Then he tries to start some childish smackdown with me — hello, want me much still???? — and gives up when he remembers that (a) I’m smarter and (b) more clever than he. And what’s with the girlfriend? “He is my man”??? Who the fuck cares??? If I had a man in bed with me now, the topic of conversation would not be my ex-husband nor would I pull out my cell phone to display his entry in my cell phone’s address book. All it fucking says is, “Josh - cell.” Wooo, big excitement there.
In my experience, the only reason you tell an ex that you have someone else … is because you want them to know you have someone else. It has been two years — seriously, like this week — since we broke up. It has been two years since we had sex for the last, crappy, I-better-fake-it-so-it’s-over time.
All I want to say to the ex is: Let it go, punkin. It’s been two years. Let it go.
As I’ve mentioned before, I’ve seen a therapist on and off for a little over two years. I first went to her in the depths of my misery, knowing I wanted, I needed to leave my marriage, but still not sure how. I continued seeing her for support during the divorce process and while I adjusted to being single and dating again. There have been times I’ve wanted to stop seeing her, but I felt like the reason I wanted to stop was because I was avoiding an issue that I needed to deal with. I don’t feel like that anymore. It’s just time. For the past several weeks, I’ve felt like I’ve been talking about the same things over and over again, and that isn’t a good use of my time (or money, frankly). I want to take the summer off and not think so damn much.
I felt oddly conflicted yesterday during our wrap-up session, maybe because I’m so used to her being in my life. I got emotional, which surprised me. We talked about how I’ve changed over the past two years; she commented that I’ve “softened,” in both my appearance and demeanor.
Talking to her yesterday, I was reminded of something that Mark repeatedly said to me while we were dating. He told me that he thought that it was impossible to hide anything if you were naked. If you were vulnerable physically, then you were also vulnerable emotionally. It struck me that every single time he said that to me, he was naked and I was usually clothed, at least I was never naked. Remembering that got me to thinking about him and why that relationship ended. It wasn’t working, it wasn’t going to work, we didn’t even have that much in common, but the ending always seemed so false to me. I still sometimes wondered what happened over the course of a week or so for the relationship to go from “eh there’s still some good here” to a total disaster, but I don’t care enough to call him up and ask him!
Anyway, as I told my therapist yesterday, I’ve been feeling self-centered lately and I like it. I don’t want to meet anyone, I don’t want to go out on another first date, I don’t want to deal with someone else’s crap. I think Mark and Scott wore me out this year, and the thought of meeting yet another emotionally stunted, arrogant jackass makes my stomach turn. Plus, there’s the worry of running into a guy with (a) Pastor Carl’s small dick, (b) Mark’s unimpressive technique or (c) Scott’s over-the-top freakiness (I still can’t get over him wanting to fuck me while I wore my wedding dress. Regardless of the fact that he wouldn’t fuck me, that was one of the most distasteful and disrespectful propositions I’ve received.)
Given all that, I am much better off as I am: Alone.
I stole this from Some Girl.
- I’m 31.
- I was born in Michigan.
- I now live in Indiana.
- My astrological sign is Libra.
- I have two cats.
- I graduated from Michigan State University.
- My BA is in Communication.
- I was accepted at a local school for another BA.
- But I haven’t registered for classes yet.
- I work for a large company.
- You’ve heard of it.
- I’m a registered Democrat.
- I think Bill Clinton is cute.
- I’m very opinionated.
- Especially about politics.
- I used to teach Sunday school.
- But I haven’t gone to church regularly in almost two years.
- My first crush was on the Fonz.
- I haven’t had a crush in a while.
- I hate hot weather.
- My dream job would be a travel agent.
- I cry at least once a week.
- I’m right-handed.
- My toenails are painted in Lighten Up, You’re Two Pence by OPI.
- I like to think of myself as rebellious, but I’m really not.
- I have never smoked a cigarette.
- Or done drugs.
- I can drink a bottle of wine easily.
- But I haven’t done that in a while.
- My favorite movie is “Moonstruck.”
- I feel hopeful when I watch it.
- I haven’t had a date in six weeks.
- That really doesn’t bother me.
- I subscribe to “Star” magazine.
- Actually my subscription ran out in April, but they keep sending me issues.
- I’m not going to pay for them!
- My car has leopard-print seat covers.
- I also have leopard shoes.
- I come across as sweet and nice, so the leopard serves as contrast.
- I have been in love once.
- It didn’t last.
- I told him I wanted out.
- My divorce was final in Feb. 2005.
- Sometimes I wear my engagement ring on my right hand when I’m at home. I like it.
- But I only got the “upgrade” because I was furious with me ex.
- I found out he spent a LOT of money on phone-sex calls.
- The main reason for the divorce, btw.
- I lost my virginity at 20 to my ex-husband.
- He never wanted sex as much as I did, so I stopped asking eventually.
- I had sex with someone else six weeks before the divorce was final. Is that cheating?
- I have been in therapy for two years.
- My last session is this week. I’m breaking up with her.
- I still am scared of making a commitment.
- And I’m not too keen on opening up either.
- I am a news junkie.
- Some days I don’t even turn on my TV.
- I like Harlequin “Blaze” books.
- I buy them through the mail.
- I’m too embarassed to buy them at the store.
- I have a website of erotic stories and poems.
- No, you can’t have the URL lol.
- I swear too much.
- It’s lazy.
- I gave it up for Lent one year but that didn’t last.
- My pastor even made fun of me.
- Then, as “punishment,” he made me read a passage from the Bible as part of the Maundy Thursday service.
- I had to say “cock” seven times.
- The pastor and my then-husband stood at the back of the church and laughed at me.
- Some old ladies at the church thought I was having an affair with the pastor.
- I really was just going to him for counseling.
- Well, I was counseling him too.
- And no, that’s not a euphemism lol.
- I can’t look skanky, even when I try really really hard.
- I have a pair of 5″ black heels.
- Of course I can’t walk in them.
- I haven’t worn them to bed yet though.
- I’d have sex every day if I could.
- But maybe that’s because I’m single.
- I like to be the center of attention.
- But I’m usually embarassed when I am.
- I think I’m pretty funny.
- I like to make up words and sayings.
- When my last bf and I would be kissing, I never could remember his name — but not because he was such a good kisser –
- I would have to run through a list of three or four names in my head before I got to his.
- I should have known that was a bad sign!
- My favorite song ever is “In Your Eyes” by Peter Gabriel.
- I also really really like “Night Moves” by Bob Seger.
- And “Slow” by Kylie Minogue.
- I collect items with sunflowers on them.
- One of my friends painted me a sunflower.
- My collection started with a sunflower my grandmother painted after my grandfather died.
- It’s a sad painting, but I like it because the emotion is real.
- For my birthday, I am going to get a small shamrock tattooed on my foot.
- I am Irish.
- Even if I marry again, I will keep my last name.
- Unless I marry someone with an Irish name — then I’d consider changing it to his.
- My first wedding was very small, in Las Vegas.
- I’ve considered whether my next husband should be a first-time groom. Would we get more gifts that way??
- My blog title comes from a song called “Running for Home” by Matthew Good.
- I listen to that song while I stretch after I work out.
