My colleague S. sent me a txt today that the former flame did not show up at her event, despite his registration. She was disappointed because, as she said, she wanted to “mess with him.” Sigh. S. wasn’t around to see the misery that the former flame and I caused each other. Now it’s (kinda) funny to tell the story of how I was such a girl that I made a man question his sexuality. Three years ago, not so much. If I had to guess, he’s locked me away in a very remote place in his heart and mind and doesn’t dust off that memory all that often. So, all in all, I’m glad he didn’t show because the last thing I want is to reignite the Monique-former flame hoo-ha.

So K. was nice enough to name me as one of five bloggers who make her think. She’s super fabulous so that’s quite a compliment. I need to think about my list …

I got up an hour early today to go to this motivational seminar downtown. After being stuck in traffic for damn near 90 minutes, inching our way around the stadium, Chris and I said, fuck it, and headed back to the office. Of course, I had a project that required a lot of focus and I was pretty much brain dead by 4 p.m. So I went to Walmart and then came home.

The end.

I used to be quite the little craftster. Cross-stitch was my thing. I haven’t done it in a few years. I don’t know why I quit, I used to do it all the time. Tonight I found two pieces that I did but never framed. It may surprise you to know that I used to be a Sunday school teacher. The church that I still hold membership in is affiliated with the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ). It’s a liberal denomination, one that allows you to have a variety of opinions on different subjects. I was very involved and also good friends with the pastor. But, with the divorce, I left. It is a small church and my ex’s grandparents still go there. In fact, he “asked” for the church although he rarely goes. I’ve only been to church a handful of times in the past 3 years, mainly because, living in the bible belt, it is difficult to find a congregation or even a denomination that I can agree with. For example, one requirement I have is that women have equal opportunity for leadership positions. Of course, “tolerance” is a huge issue with me. I’m not going to sit in church and hear how someone I love is going to burn in hell because of who he loves.

Anyway. I’m thinking about finishing off this cross-stitch and giving it to a coworker as an anniversary present. She and her husband are devout Christians. I really admire her dedication to her beliefs, because she lives them. And she is one of the only conservative Christians I have ever met who is open and accepting of others.

So here’s my little masterpiece. I was really proud when I saw it tonight. It’s good. I need to get back into creative things. I have to create and express … I just do.

This post got me thinking about love letters. It has been a good while since I have written anything more than a flirtatious note, but I have written a few love letters in my day. I’m quite good at them — I have a flair for the dramatic and my general state of reticence when it comes to expressing emotions makes my words all the more powerful. When I read the post at Black Hearts Inc., it made me think of a book, “Inappropriate Men” by Stacey Ballis. I read the book about 3 years ago and checked it out from the library tonight. I chose the book based on the title, as at the time, I found myself in the middle of a sticky situation. In fact, while I lay reading the book on the beach, one part of the sticky situation commented on the appropriateness of the title, adding that I seemed to have a few inappropriate men in my life.

This book is about a poetry professor who makes some bad decisions when it comes to relationships. The book is quirky and a bit sad, not over-the-top, brimming with happiness as many books of the chick lit genre are. There are poems throughout the book, and while I am not a big poetry fan, save for the work of ee cummings, there was one poem in particular that spoke to me, and I know I stole part of it for a letter. I can’t quite find the line that I stole, because I did so while I was drunk and scrambling to write the letter in a fit of emotion, but this part of the poem spoke to me then and speaks to me now:

“… and I cannot believe that
after all of my self-protective maneuvering
all the pains I took to keep myself from being too open
too free
too available for you
you still managed to slide under my radar
cast your spell
become water to slip through the cracks

and just when I begin to own it
allow myself to believe it
to want it with all of the longing at my disposal
you make of yourself a thin smoke
and disappear

… I will not let you convince me
of our impossibility
I will but lie in the stoic night
and let the knowledge of what is good and right with us
keep me contented
even if you will not possess it
not acknowledge it
it doesn’t make it untrue”

The man I gave the rambling letter to wrote me one of his own. I threw it out long ago, after it became clear that his silence was not going to break any time soon.

It seems to take a lot for most men to put words to paper, maybe that’s why I value letters so much. Even a simple “I miss you” can be lovely. I’m hoping the gentlemen at Black Hearts Inc. can inspire more men to take that leap …

I check my stats daily. Ok, more than, usually. Just to see where my visitors are coming from, what crazy search terms people have used, etc. Today, I looked at my stats and saw that someone who came from Ruined Music just happened to be from the same city as the man I wrote about. Of course, I have no way of knowing if it’s him, but he would recognize himself in the story. And the last two posts he read on my site were about my ex-husband — which does not surprise me in the least. So, John, if it’s you, hey punkin’, it’s been a long time. For good reason.

Sometimes the universe works as it should.

Today, I had the former flame’s MySpace page up to show another co-worker. As we were laughing at him, my task bar started flashing orange with a new IM … from my ex-husband. What timing! It was like he knew that I was talking about the former flame. (I had to set my ex straight for the 8,000th time in October that no, the FF and I did not have sex. We didn’t even kiss! Because I was the only girl he had liked in 10 years. Sigh.)

The exchange with my ex went as follows:

Him — Did you have a good new year’s?

Me (15 minutes later) — Yep, how was yours?

Him — It was good. Sucks to be at work. Ha.

Me (35 minutes later) — No doubt!

And …. that was it. No drama, no tales of his drunken debauchery to piss me off, nothing. If the rest of my year goes this smoothly, I will be a happy girl.

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.

You can find just about anyone on MySpace.

I was e-mailing my brother earlier when I got the wild idea to look up the former flame.

Now, let me remind you. The former flame is the jackass that told me he had convinced himself he was gay until he met me, yadda yadda yadda. I won’t go into that train wreck, you can read about it in the archives. Anyway.

I was delusional, that’s the only thing I can come up. I was seriously hot for this guy 2+ years ago and now … gah. My mouth fell open at how awful he looks. And his photos? Him and his sister. No boyfriend. No men at all, actually. He doesn’t even say that he’s gay, just “single.” Tragic even now. I did have the naive hope that my “it’s ok to be you” speech would have actually had some impact. Or, more specifically, the way his lies temporarily ruined his life and mine, and caused him to find another job, would have actually had some impact.

Apparently not.

Our story is the one I’ll write a book about someday. No one has ever brought out both the best and the worst in me like he did, and someday I’ll be ready to put it all into words. Just not yet …

Edited to add: Here’s the best post to explain the former flame and our insanity.

Isn’t it funny how hearing a song can bring back memories? Just recently, I was listening to a song (by the Goo Goo Dolls, for pete’s sake) and one line jumped out at me. My stomach flip-flopped, and I remembered that someone no longer in my life said the same words to me: Take what you need. Afterwards, I could only laugh at my visceral reaction to the song.

Anyway. My point is that today I heard a God-awful, sappy song and it instantly took me back nearly 20 years. Remember “Somewhere Out There” by James Ingram and Linda Ronstadt? Of course I was reminded of a boy. His name was Jason, just like every third boy back then. Our last names were close alphabetically, and we were in the same homeroom in seventh grade. We also had science together that year and maybe a few other classes. He was sooo cute and he liked me, too. He’d take my books, my pencils, all that annoying shit that 12 and 13 year old boys do.

I wasn’t the type of girl that “went” with boys, most likely because I didn’t get asked. But Jason and I talked all the time and, from what I remember, our science teacher separated our seats more than once, but we’d just talk across the room.

Once we got to high school, he started smoking and hanging out with the “burnouts,” as we called them back then, while I was off doing newspaper and debate-related things. I don’t remember ever really seeing him. My neighbor was a year younger and also ran with the burnouts. He came over one day after school, dying to tell me that Jason had asked about me. My neighbor was baffled, wondering how Jason and I knew each other, as I was totally a goody two shoes. My neighbor, under the guise of being helpful — but he was in the middle of one of his crushes on me, as we both kinda liked each other for years — told Jason, “Monique would never be interested in a guy like you!”

Alas. I’d like to say the neighbor wasn’t right, but he was. I was 15 or 16, I was snobby and too concerned with what everyone else thought.

But back to the song. At first I couldn’t remember why that horrid song reminded me so strongly of Jason. Then I remembered that we danced together to that song at a 7th grade dance. He was tall. It was nice. I’m sure I was terribly giddy and embarrassed. It’s nice to have a memory of an adolescent crush that is still sweet and fresh.

Since we’re talking about me, the title actually should say “Dumb Dumb da Dumb.”

Eight years ago, on July 18, 1998, I got married. Fitting that it’s going to be the hottest day of the year here, as it was 120 degrees the day I got married in Vegas, I guess marking my descent into hell. (Okay, that’s a bit melodramatic, but whatever.)

I nearly was sick. I felt like I was going to pass out. The Elvis impersonator mistook my brother — my 16-year-old brother! — for the groom. Yet, still, I went through with it. Why? Because I didn’t know how to go about ending things when we already lived together, he had moved to a new state to be with me, because because because.

Last year, I felt ambivalent about the anniversary. I think I scheduled a spa appointment to make myself feel better. This year, though, I didn’t even remember the significance of the date until this afternoon.

I have been told that I’m at my best when I’m truly myself, when I stop thinking and just am. I don’t know if I’ll ever marry again, although I suspect I will — I believe too much in happy endings not to try — but the next candidate for love o’ my life will be a man who can take me for who I am, half-assed hockey interest, liberal rants, indecision, made-up words, insatiable sexual appetite (I threw that one in there for the male readers, to see if you’re awake lol), obsessive blogging habits, overprotective cats and all.

Wow. I don’t think I’d date myself. ; ) Of course I would — I’m too interested in myself not to! Ha. Anyway, raise your glass with me and toast to Miss Monique’s reclaiming of July 18 as … just another day in the life.

P.S. Not my real wedding dress lol. Mine cost $120 on sale from Lord and Taylor. All wedding photos were thrown in le trash or are at my parents’ house. Although I was exceedingly cute in my pixie haircut …

I was clicking on links on different blogs, just to read sites I hadn’t been to before. I somehow stumbled across this young woman’s blog, about her husband’s struggle with cancer. He died. He was only 24. It was heart-wrenching to read, I was in tears.

When I turned 24, I had been married for three months and was completely miserable. Why didn’t I listen to myself? Why didn’t I trust myself? Why didn’t I wait so long to get out? And why did I act so fucking civil — his drunken, offhand txt message about “past mistakes” wounded me more than I care to admit. It was so unnecessarily hurtful and surprising and it made me feel worse that I still spend an occasional evening curled up with my box of tissues, crying for reasons I don’t even fully understand, with no one to replace him like I’ve been replaced.
Oh hell, that’s enough whining. It’s been two years since I left Josh and the others aren’t worth moping over. Sometimes I forget people actually read this shit.

More-upbeat Monique will return in the morning.