Aiding and In-Bedding

The limit of my friendship with Sparrow apparently knows no bounds. Last night, I received a text message from her reading: "Can I come over and have sex in one of your spare bedrooms?" 

And of course my reply was: "Ummm... sure." After all, what are friends for, if not to lend an area in which to gratify fornication needs?? 

As I mentioned in a previous post, Sparrow might be getting back together with her estranged husband. Last week, they humped like bunny rabbits out in the wooded area of a nearby park. Seeing it was raining yesterday, I couldn't allow a repeat of such an event.

She had asked me after her rendezvous in the park if it was wrong seeing he had a girlfriend. I thought about it for a moment and decided she had the girlfriend outranked, seeing technically he was still her husband. 

"Well, it's not like they're married or anything," I replied. 

So the two star-struck lovers slipped away into one of my bedrooms last night and made love for twenty-two remarkably silent minutes. It's not like I was outside the door listening or anything.  


I gave them a round of applause as they shuffled down the stairs and into my living room, both looking like two embarrassed teenagers. 


My applause cut short however, when I noticed Sparrow carrying a helmet and a baseball mitt under her arm. I raised a pointed eyebrow in her direction. 

She followed my gaze and then snickered and opened her mouth to offer an explanation. I put my hands up, stopping her in mid-sentence.  


"Sparrow, I really don't think I want to know." 


"Good, because I was about to tell you that some things are best left up to the imagination," she retorted. 

Before she left, she dug into her pockets and left .87 cents on my dining room table. 

"For the rental," she explained with a wink, and left with her lover in tow.

Now the only question I'm left with is: Do I have to report that on my taxes and if so, how? 

My Date With A Married Man

I think maybe I should change my blog name from Reality Challenged to Just Plain Naïve. I cannot believe I actually thought last night’s “date” with a married man was strictly platonic. I agreed to be his plus one at a company party because his wife was unable to attend. This guy, let’s call him Depot, and I have known each other a long time and I honestly thought any attraction he may have had toward me decades ago was long forgotten like his wedding vows

The night started out on a really good note. I got there and ordered a Shirley Temple, still honoring my resolution to distance myself from alcohol. Of course, when I did this, Depot’s head spun around so quickly I thought his neck might snap. I explained that I was trying to cut back on my alcohol in-take. His reaction to this news was somewhere between shock and dismay, so I made sure to order a second one just to drive the point home.

I struck up a very stimulating conversation with one of his co-workers about literature and the history of World War II, and soon we were fast friends. Within an hour, I had charmed everyone else at the table and I was feeling quite proud of myself.

As the night progressed, the restaurant began to get stuffy and Depot suggested we get some air. We took a short stroll around downtown and made polite conversation of our own. As we neared the restaurant he asked if being there with him made me feel uncomfortable.

“Why would I feel uncomfortable?” I asked. “You and I are just friends, and you’re married so I would never think of this as being anything other than strictly platonic.”

“You don’t know anything about my marriage, do you?” he replied coyly. 

“I thought you were happily married and devoted to your wife and child,” I answered feeling the blood rise under my collar.

“It’s more like a business arrangement,” he told me. “I married her so she could get her green card.”

“Oh really?” I had to pause to collect myself. “Because I thought you told me that you loved her.”

“I do, but she doesn’t accept my other children and that was a deal breaker for me,” he answered.

“So why are you still married to her?”

“Her green card hasn’t been finalized yet,” he answered. “But we have an open marriage.”

“So you’re sleeping with other women?”

“Yes.”

 I might be naive, but I know bullshit when I hear it.

“Well, I’m not here to judge you but I just can’t understand that.”

“People do it all the time,” he replied.

“I know. I know all too well how often people do it and I know what it feels like to be on the receiving end of infidelity. Call me old fashioned, but to me, marriage means something. I would never fool around with a married man because I know how hurt the person that is sitting at home with your child will be when she finds out you’re banging other women. I just could never be a part of something that cruel.”

“You’re right,” he said. “You don’t understand. In a couple of months, when her green card is secured, we’ll probably be divorced.”

Really? Is this what cheaters say to get laid?

“I think we should go inside now,” I said and turned on one heel.

Once inside, I put on my charming façade and bade all my new friends farewell and good night. Depot insisted on walking me to my car.

“I’m sorry I upset you,” he said.

“Like I said before, I’m not here to judge you but I don’t understand and I don’t agree with your views on marriage,” I answered. “So I guess we’ll just have to agree to disagree on this subject.”

“Well if you ever change your mind and you need a pick-me-up, I’m just a phone call away,” he said as he closed my car door.

Really?? I watched him walk away and for a moment, just a moment, I wondered what it would feel like to run him over with my car.

Please, I really want to believe that all men are not cheating jerks, but last night really made me lose faith in fidelity and ever-lasting love.  

How to Not Drown: Avoid Stimulants

It’s four in the afternoon and my date for tonight has already informed me via text that he is drunk. It’s not actually a date, as in the romantic type. (I’ve sorta given up on those - more on that later) I just agreed to be a friend’s plus one for his company party tonight. His wife can’t make it and he didn’t want to go alone.

However, now that I have fair warning that my “date” is going to be tanked, I might just consider backing out of the whole deal. Who goes to their company party shit-faced anyways?? Granted, he does work for Home Depot so I’m sure the standards are pretty low as far as company parties go, but still. 

Aw, what the hell do I care? It’s Saturday night and I have no plans, so what the heck. I figure it will prove to be entertaining at the very least. I’m sorta in one of my anti-alcohol phases, so the allure of free drinks is moot. However, watching other drunk people make fools of themselves? Yeah, I’m just about always up for that.

So what is going on with me, you might ask, to make me decide to give up booze and men - especially when the two seem to compliment each other so well in my life?? (that was meant to sound sarcastic)

Truth is, I don’t know. The best way I can describe it is, I’m detoxifying on a very broad level. I’m tired of being reliant on other things to make me happy. I’m looking for that kind of happiness that doesn’t come from a great bottle of wine or a roll between the sheets.

Quite frankly, all the men I’ve dated over the last several months have left me feeling disappointed. And all the wine I’ve drank has felt me feeling just as empty as the bottles in the recycling bucket.

My best friend is considering going back to her husband and as hard as I’m trying to be supportive of whatever decisions she makes, I’m also feeling a little sad by that news. She was supposed to be my partner in a life of lonely destitute. Together, we were going to find new love again and rock the singles scene. Now it might be just me.

She asked if I ever thought about getting back together with Minute Man. Of course, I think about it. I think about all the things I would need to be different and how those things are never going to happen and then I think to myself; why the hell are you even thinking that? He’s probably banging one of his bitches right now and you’re actually thinking of getting back together with him??!! (I guess I’m still a little bitter, but at least I still have my wits about me!)

I got asked to go sailing by a very prominent bachelor a few weeks ago. He was good looking, charming and apparently owns his own sailboat, but I politely declined. I told him I wasn’t looking to date anyone right now. He promised to ask again when the boat was in the water. Meh, we’ll see…

I realized recently that when Minute Man left, it was a lot like getting thrown overboard. Once you hit the water, you’re not thinking: Ah crap! Why did he throw me overboard?!! That really hurt my feelings!! I’m feeling sad and angry about this. What did I do to make him want to ditch me like that??

No, when you’re in the water, the only thing you’re thinking is: Swim! Swim! Paddle! Paddle!! Where’s the land?? Am I going to make it??

Now that I realize I’m going to make it, I’m starting to process some of the feelings I didn’t have the time or energy to comprehend. Right now, I’m learning that people don’t drown by getting thrown into the rapids. They drown by not getting out. 

Shrek: Just Another Ogre

I have sad news for my Bloggie Union. It seems that our dear, dear Shrek, whom we all had such high hopes for, just didn’t measure up to the Dreamer Challenge and was consequently… executed.  

I’m going to have to credit the reasons behind this recent transaction mostly to my instincts. Shrek started out with flying colors. He took me out to fancy restaurants, he texted me every day from the road when he was on tour, he said sweet things that made me smile, but in the end he came up short in one very fundamental department: communication.   

Things started going south almost as soon as he returned from tour. He came over the very night he arrived back in town, which I liked. However as the night unfolded and conversation ensued I began to notice one very disheartening element to our dialog. I told him once or twice that I was fond of him and he made no effort to reciprocate back to me that he was feeling the same. Hmmm… Strike One.  

Then as we chatted over breakfast the next morning and I tried talking to him about a problem I was having at work and how it made me feel, he seemed genuinely uninterested. I also tried talking to him about how I was feeling regarding a situation with a good friend of mine and was also stone walled. It was becoming abundantly clear to me that he was emotionally unavailable... or this cat is clueless. Ahhh…. Strike Two.  

Also when he left, he made no attempt to make future plans. I thought this a bit strange but I figured he just got back into town and probably had a lot on his mind - and maybe it was just a slight oversight on his part. Days went by and although he continued to text me (and texts only because apparently he has something against picking up the phone and having a live conversation) he still made no effort to suggest he wanted to see me again. With each passing day that he didbn't ask to see me I became more and more vague and distant with my communication with him. Finally, finally, I get this text from him: 

"You've been quiet. Is everything ok?"  

At this point I think it's safe to say clueless.  

I  took this opportunity to tell him how I was feeling. (Although we all know how that was going to end)  

My reply: "Well to be honest, I was being quiet because I was feeling like you weren't as interested in me as I originally thought you might have been. I'm not sure if you were aware this was the vibe you were sending or not?"  

Now I admit, I'm just as guilty for not placing an actual phone call, but I'm of the old fashioned school of thought where it is proper to wait for the guy to make the first move. But wouldn't you think that if there was any time to pick up the GD phone and call me it was right then?? Wouldn't ya??  But no. Instead I get this: 

"Sorry that wasn't my intention. I've been in daddy mode since I got back. How was your day?"  

Wha... wait... WHAT??  

Somehow I was able to formulate this response:  

"I understand about daddy mode, but what I'm having a hard time understanding is why you haven't called or asked to see me again."  

Then he comes through with this shining gem:  

"When can I see you again?"  

REALLY??? What the hell is wrong with you?? STRIKE 3!! And you all know what that means... 

My reply: "Well to be upfront, I thought when you didn't attempt to make future plans with me, you didn't want to see me again. So I made other plans with other people."  

I got another shining gem in return.  

"Oh, well that's unfortunate."  

Now some of you may feel I was a bit rash in my decision, but my instincts were telling me this guy wasn't really interested in getting to know me personally, as much as he was interested in getting to know me physically - and I have a real problem with that. Hence, I did what any upstanding classy gal would do; I dumped him via text message. 

So our tale comes to an end and we learn that this guy was no heroic Shrek after all. No, instead it turns out, he was just another ogre.

Where Creidt is Due....

Giving credit where credit is due,  isn't always an easy thing to do. So often, it’s easier to point the finger than it is to raise your hands in applause. That’s why I would like to take a moment to rise to the challenge of recognizing a good deed by a man that more often than not took the brunt of my finger pointing. It's the man we all love to hate, yes Minute Man himself. However, even Minute Man is capable of a few shining acts of kindness. And maybe the motive of this post is purely self serving. Maybe all I really wish to accomplish here is to prove to myself that I am not a finger pointing bitch - all of the time. However, there is a part of me that knows better. Part of me argues that the upstanding thing to do is to reveal the quality of integrity that Minute Man does hold when presented with the opportunity. After all, those of you that have been following me for a while know that I rarely hesitate to point out his less redeeming qualities.  

I was thinking about something today that definitely left me raising an internal eyebrow. It occurred to me that my divorce from Minute Man was quite civil and peaceful as far as divorces are concerned. In fact, I would have to say, we did divorce a hell of a lot better than we ever did marriage.  

To exemplify that point, I am about to share the account of what transpired over Easter weekend. My family lives far away and I work in the tourism industry, which pretty much demands my attendance on all major holidays. So I figured Easter Sunday was going to be just like any other Sunday on the calendar this year. I was wrong. (Savor those three words. You won’t see them appear in this blog ever again.)  

Saturday, Minute Man called and asked me if I wanted to go see Hunger Games. (Awesome movie by the way!) I actually had been dying to see it and my day was wide open, so I figured, what the heck and agreed to go. I have to confess, I was a little surprised that he not only showed up but was also on time. Surely, this was not the Minute Man I knew. But whatever, I was pleased, so I just went with it.  

The first showing we had come to see was sold out. So we decided to buy tickets for the next showing forty minutes later – which was already almost sold out. We decided we had better stake claim on our seats right away.  

As we waited, we chatted, and he cracked a joke about the first time we saw a movie together. He recalled how we had collided in the aisle when I made an abrupt stop, which resulted in him wearing his nacho cheese and my popcorn in somewhat of a tarred and feathered fashion. The thing is though, none of it felt weird or tense. It really sorta just felt like two old friends hanging out – discounting the couple of times I checked him out when he wasn’t looking. Friends, or not, the man is fine, and I’m only human, so stop judging me!!  

When the movie was over he gave me a brief hug and we parted ways. Like I said, it was cool. It was a nice little reprieve before heading into a war zone the next day at work.  

And a war zone it was. Food was flying, linens were destroyed, frantic mania took over the kitchen and it was all I could do to press linens fast enough to keep up with the rotating tables in the dining room. I came home after a ten hour shift feeling exhausted and a little depressed having watched all the happy families come and go only to return to a cold empty house on my own.   

Waiting for me on my doorstep was a brightly colored Easter basket with a big chocolate bunny sitting in a nest of chocolate eggs. There was no note and no card. It appeared that the Easter Bunny himself had paid me a visit. Once the more cynical part of my mind wrestled down the magic and wonder of my childhood disillusions, I decided to make a short list of people that may have left the basket on my doorstep. After all, mother always told me not to take candy from strangers.   

I  made three phone calls before I came up empty handed and started to wonder if maybe Minute Man had left the basket. He never acknowledged Easter when we were married so I didn't think it was him and Shrek is an atheist (more about this later) so he never made it onto the list at all. However, I was faced with two options: It was either Minute Man or somebody was trying to poison me! After debating for a moment on inviting the loud mouthed screaming children from across the street to come sample the candy for me, I decided to ask Minute Man whether on not he had left anything on my doorstep. He didn't exactly confess, but he didn't deny it either. Therefore he was guilty by omission!! I'm pretty sure I would be pro at being a spy.  

The thing is, it was a completely unexpected and random act of kindness from an even more unexpected source and I have to give credit where credit is due.

Executing Shrek

Over-thinking a situation, that’s what we women are so good at! It’s been four days since my romantic rendezvous with Shrek and although he does continue to text me daily, he still has not asked to see me again. What the heck?  

So I turned the attention of my scrutiny off from him and onto myself. Was there something I did? Something I said? Oh wait… yup. There was something I may have said…

It was just after “the morning after” and I rolled out of his arms and stared at the ceiling as the images of a vivid dream I had the night before came rushing back into my mind. In retrospect, it was probably one of those dreams that I should have kept to myself.

In my dream, Shrek and I had discovered a condemned hotel, still plush with all the furnishing, but eerily vacant. We decided to hide away in one of the rooms where we could continue our love making undetected.

It soon became apparent to me that there was a ghost in our hotel room. I began communicating with the ghost via written messages on the wall. A message from the ghost read: “It is time for you to leave”

I shared this information with Shrek and we both agreed we should heed the warning and we hastily left the hotel.

Outside, the building was surrounded by police. As we rounded the corner of the building, they took Shrek into custody and scheduled him for… um… execution. I was also detained and forced to go to church.

By the time I finished telling my dream to Shrek, he was already reaching for his clothes.

“That started off as a really great dream, but I have some issues with the ending,” he said. “I can’t believe you’re already trying to find ways to kill me off!”

“What!” I cried. “That’s silly! What about me?? I had to go to church!!”

“Yeah, and I had to get DEAD!” he replied.

I guess he sorta had a point.

Note to Self: Never share your dreams of executing your lover with your lover. It will not go over as well as you might have expected.

The thing is, maybe a small part of me did feel like we were condemned and committing a crime worthy of repenting. Maybe there is still a ghost in the bedroom – and maybe, just maybe, my salvation waits around the next corner.   

  

"Oh! My Vagina!!"

It’s been seven months since the demise of my marriage to Minute Man and I’m just now starting to open myself up enough to entertain the idea of entering into a relationship with somebody.

Sure I’ve gone out on dates, but nothing serious until maybe now, or maybe not now. I’m getting some mixed signals from Shrek who I have been seeing for the last couple months. Granted, he was on tour (he’s a roadie) for the last month. The last night he was home, I gave him a sending off I was sure he would not soon forget - if you know what I mean. While he was gone he sent me texts every night after the show to let me know he was thinking of me. How sweet!!

Minute Man also worked nights in the entertainment scene, but I didn’t get regular texts from him. I can see now, if I had, I would have been a lot less insecure in our marriage. However, that is neither here nor there - just a little Light Bulb Moment I wanted to share.

Upon Shrek’s return he drove straight to my house where I gave him another “show stopping” performance. We spent the night together and shared similar activities the next morning as well. In short, there was a lot of sex. I mean, just A LOT of sex. I had so much sex that the following night when I went out for drinks with my girlfriend, I cried out “Oh my vagina!!” inside my head every time I sat down because I was so sore. Actually, there was one time after several glasses of wine, where I accidentally said it out loud. (Let me tell you, a remark like that certainly generates quite the response from the people within earshot.) But I digress, I am getting too far off track.

The next morning after our seventeenth round of love making, we decided we were both in need of nourishment and went out for breakfast. That is one of my favorite things to do. (Other than having disgusting amounts of sex of course, but I‘ve already made that abundantly clear, haven‘t I?)

So in my head, I was thinking everything was going exceptionally well and not just because of the amazing sex (albeit that had a lot to do with it) but because I actually sorta like this guy too.Admittedly, I was also thinking...

However, he dropped me off after breakfast proclaiming that he really needed to get home and vacuum. WHAT? So I’m like um okay, whatever. I’m sure your vacuum isn‘t going to suck any of the places I am willing to, but all the more power to you. Go home and vacuum.

After all, he had been away for a month and he probably just really want to enjoy being in the comfort of his own home.

And really folks, I would have been cool with that, had he not made one fatal mistake. He didn’t make plans to see me again. He said he would be in touch - and well he has, but he still hasn’t asked to see me again.

Then I got to over-analyzing, as you know us women are so gosh darn good at, all the other little things he did or didn’t do that could mean that he’s just not that into me.

I’m not the materialistic type. I’m really, really not, but I know this guy makes sick amounts of money and he did just spend a month (in which I refused several dating opportunities) touring the U.S. and parts of Canada. So would flowers or something have been too much to ask for after a month of waiting patiently for his return? I think not.

Also, he clearly had at least two very good opportunities to tell me that he really liked me, which he chose not to take. Then! I realized that he didn’t ask me many questions about myself the entire time we spent together. 

Then I got to over-analyzing some more, and I realized he didn’t even tell me how hot I looked before ripping my clothes off. And I assure you all, I looked smoking hot.

But he did tell me I was beautiful once I had all my clothes off, so meh, we’ll consider that one a close save.

However, in his defense, he may have been just so blinded by my intense love making skills that he couldn’t possibility have been expected to think of anything else. Yeah, you know what? That’s probably it!!