Tag Archives: relationships

“Relax” Part Whatever

Thankfully The Flood has abated. Who knew telling 900+ people all about the workings of my Lady Bits would shut the faucet off? Obviously I need to be telling y’all every little thing – maybe shit would start to happen ๐Ÿ™‚

Before we get to my scheduled post, just let me relate one more work-related irritation. On Friday, the server went down at the office. No problem – I saved my drawings to my hard drive. When the problem hadn’t been fixed by 11:30 and my work was done, I left. I saw The Boss’ truck parked in front of the office on Sunday but didn’t have time to stop by to tell him the latest drawings were on my hard drive because I had somewhere more interesting to be. I don’t keep his cell phone number in my phone, so I didn’t bother to call, either. WTF he was doing at the office on a Sunday defies all logic anyway.

So I came in to work this morning and went immediately into his office (before the weekly staff/planning meeting I am no longer invited to) to ask if he’d changed the drawings and to explain the situation. Turns out he HAD made changes to the drawings and appeared a bit irritated that I hadn’t let him know I’d saved the files on my hard drive. BUT the architect changed his floor plan (again – surprise!) necessitating a bunch of changes that voided all the work I’d done on Friday. Of course, The Boss asked me what I’d done on Friday (your redlines, duh!) and was not happy about the situation, but in the end no harm, no foul.

No biggie, right? Well…no, it’s just fine with me to get paid to do the exact same work over and over again, but the $ doesn’t make up for the irritation and frustration my job makes me feel. I gotta get something more stimulating going on or I will lose my mind.

Ahem. Okay. Where was I? Oh, yes. The Thing I haven’t written about at all. For awhile there was A Boy. No, that’s not a misnomer – he turned out to be nothing more than a lying little child. No, he’s not the cause of any of my stress (which is considerably diminished thanks to getting it all out there on the blog) but now he’s gone I have a little less.

Let me explain. We met online. He seemed normal enough, a bit quirky, but in a good way. He gave off none of the Red Flag vibes I’m hyper aware of. I figured, why not have a fling? We’re all adults here and I can do what I want, right? So long as we’re both on the same page it’s all good, right?

He lives 90 minutes North of me, so I drove to see him. I never invited him to see me because Towanda is a Penis-Free Zone (until now, what with The Kid living there and all, but it’s different, right?) and I didn’t want to go there anyway.

I introduced myself to him as Sofia and somehow I neglected to tell him my real name until it became awkward to do so. He was a bit shocked, but by that time he’d been telling me little white lies for awhile and I refused to be upset by it. Even his mother said, “that boy was born with a Tall Tale on his lips!” And therein lies the reason I’m no longer seeing him – he’s a compulsive liar. About everything. Oh, it’s not all malicious, but we had agreed early on to be honest with each other, and I had been. Maybe even a little bit mean if he asked for my opinion.

Anyway. It was fun. Then it wasn’t. I was done in January after we went to Las Vegas to stay at one of his timeshares. I’d never been and he talked like we were going to have a great five days. It would be an adventure! I paid $250 for Sabu to go to Sleep-Away Camp and drove up to his place. When I arrived he was in bed. He had “thrown out [his] back” and needed to go to the chiropractor before we left for the airport. Fine. I drove. He was obviously in pain. I offered to cancel the trip but he insisted that he would be fine once his back was fixed – this had happened before.

We got to the chiropractor’s office. He did not have an appointment but they take walk-ins. The receptionist asked to see his insurance card. He claimed to have forgotten his wallet (I had seen him put it in his pocket) and told her he would call her with the info as soon as he got home. He also lied about where he worked (he was laid off at the time) and gave some other false info. Uh-huh. The Doc took him into another building and I got creeped out by the looks I was getting in the waiting room so I went to wait by the car. I kept an eye out so I could tell him I wasn’t in the waiting room when he came out and when he saw me, he came directly to the car and did not check back in with the receptionist. Since the info he gave her was false, he just got himself a free chiropractor appointment. I was livid, but he was in pain and pain can make people do odd things.

So. The trip should have been cancelled, but we went and he basically slept the whole time. When he was awake, he was a dick to everyone we encountered. We had a war over the thermostat in the room (he wanted it cranked all the way up with the tub filled with boiling hot water – it was like a sauna and I couldn’t breathe) he refused to go out for food but we did to the “Party Weekend” dinner and show* and he dragged me on the rides at the top of the Stratosphere (just to laugh at me, I’m convinced) but otherwise he was asleep. He hadn’t packed any clean clothes or underwear (who does that?!?) It was just awful. I understand he was not feeling well, but he should have cancelled the trip instead of being such a dick. He should have gone to a doctor like I asked, but he’s a grown man, right? I couldn’t force him to seek treatment so I kept my mouth shut.

Anyway. I didn’t hear much from him the following week and went up to see how he was feeling on the following Saturday. He was not awake. At 11:00 in the morning. He knew I was coming and he couldn’t be bothered to be awake? I figured he must be really ill and set off the house alarm so he’d be forced to get up. Long story about the alarm. He stumbled out, let me in and apologized about the mess. I won’t even go there. He was obviously drugged to the gills. He couldn’t stay awake and refused to go to the emergency room. He said all he needed was sleep. The house was a wreck and I was pissed, so I left. Sad texts from him later so I lied and said that he told me to leave. I told him to text me when he was feeling better and that, I thought, was that.

The following week I get a text from him saying that he’s in hospital and has been for five days. WTF? He didn’t seem that bad off when I saw him last. Or is this another lie to get sympathy? You see, the stories he told should have been verifiable online (they were that big) and they were not, so I questioned everything he’d ever said. I asked what hospital, etc. and called to make sure he was indeed there. He was. Well, crap. Now I felt bad. I promised to go up the next weekend and see him.

The next weekend arrived and I drove up. He was in the ICU – his bowels had quit working and they’d done emergency surgery the night before. I met his step-dad and got the whole sad story. I thought maybe having a near-death experience would change him. He said he felt like he was getting a second chance and that he wanted to be a better person, etc. etc. etc. So I visited regularly during his hospital stay and even drove three hours (each way) to visit him at his parent’s house. They are nice people, but not really my kind of people. I felt obligated, though.

He was finally cleared to go home and take care of himself and I went to see him. He was asleep when I got there. He slept most of the time I was there but I spent the night because it was too late to drive home (I don’t like driving in the dark for any long distance.) Next weekend, wash, rinse, repeat. I suffered through one more weekend so I could use his power tools to make a pair of sawhorses. Hey, I’m no dummy and he owed me, dammit!

He was cleared to start work and took a job for a “friend” who has an old house that needed some plumbing repairs. The Boy is a bit of a Jack-of-all-Trades and could not yet resume full time work. He told me that this guy, Jerry, has a 1920’s shower that needed a new faucet-gizmo. He gave The Boy $150 and instructions to order it from a specialty restoration company. The Boy went on eBay and found “the same part” for one third the price and pocketed the money. He was bragging when he told this story.

I was aghast. I said, “you’re cheating this guy and it’s gonna come back to bite you on the ass…”

“No, it won’t! I do this stuff all the time! If people are stupid enough to pay stupid-high prices when they could shop eBay, they deserve to lose their money.” He was proud of himself!

I was all done feeling bad for The Boy at this point, but curious to see how this little farce would play out, so I found reasons not to visit the next few weeks but stayed in touch via text. And then the lies came home to roost.

Via text –

Him: Once again I made a mistake and misread a person.

Me: What’s up?

Him: The guy I’m working for refused to pay me. Since it’s under the table I have no license, bond, insurance. I’m not the leg breaking kind of guy so he gets off scott free. I should have known better.

Me: Are you telling me the whole story? Surely there’s more to it than that?

Him: Nope. Everything was fine yesterday and now today he won’t pay me.

Me: Did he give a reason?

Him: No. He just kept saying ‘get off my property, you’re trespassing’ over and over again.

Me: Ah! Is this the plumbing job?

Him: Yes.

Me: Well…you cheated him. You went on eBay and found “the same part” and kept the extra money. Where else did you cut corners?

Him: True. Karma?

Me: Ah…yeah. You fucked this one up all by yourself.

Him: So I can’t play the victim part here, huh?

Me: No, not with me. Surely this has happened to you before?

Him: No. This is the first time.

Me: You’re splitting hairs. You’ve done this sort of shit before and been caught. You’re denying it to make yourself look good and I don’t buy it.

Him: True. Guess I need to get my head on straight…

And nothing else for a couple of days. Then I get a text saying he wants to tell me something but he can’t do it via text. It’s a phone conversation. Fine. Whatevs. I didn’t care and was still fuming over him thinking I’m gonna give him sympathy about his little cheating scam.

He scheduled the call three evenings in a row but failed to call at the appointed time. Always had an excuse via text. I really didn’t care.

Finally he called, late, but he did call. He started in about “misjudging people” and how something else had happend and OMG life is so hard, blah, blah, blah, again and I just lost it.

“I don’t even care about that,” I said. “I need to go back to the plumbing job. We need to talk about that.”

He was plainly not prepared to shower me with lies about that. “Uh…okay…”

I repeated the story as I knew it. “Is that right?” I asked.

“Well, yes, but you make it sound so bad…I don’t even know what to say here…”

“Right. That whole mess is a deal-breaker for me. I don’t have people in my life who think it’s okay to cheat people that way. Good bye.” And I hung up.

He didn’t even have the wits to apologize. For anything. It was fun for awhile, but damn am I glad I’m still single!

There were many more instances that should have ended it for me, but I was curious to see where he would go when I started to call him on his bullshit. I mean, honesty was our bargain in the beginning and I kept to my part no matter what, which felt really great, I have to say, but he couldn’t tell the truth about anything, even stupid stuff that doesn’t matter. I refuse to have that kind of crap in my life. Unless it’s related by blood, apparently, because The Kid is still on my couch.

So I gave The Kid his ultimatum on Thursday evening when I was sure he was sober. August 3 is his move-out date unless he’s working and paying me $200 per month rent. Six months is long enough for anyone to find some kind of paying work if they apply themselves and I’m soooo done with this Mom Gig. I told him I would drive him back to The Big City and drop him off or he could just walk out the door but he would no longer be welcome to live with me. He hid his panic pretty well and I haven’t mentioned it since. If he thinks I’ve forgotten he’ll get a very rude awakening come August 3 when I show him the door. Let’s see if this lights a fire under his ass ๐Ÿ™‚

*Jeff Dunham. Fantastic!


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Has it really been two years?

Today marks my two year narc-free anniversary! At 11:45 AM on January 20, 2013 I drove away from the narcโ€™s house with the last of the stuff I couldnโ€™t live without. I was an emotional mess but determined to escape that asshole and live the life I’d always wanted for myself.

For those who are new, read last year’s synopsis here to get caught up. Ready? Okay.

I went NC with the narc about a year ago, changing my phone number and deleting my internet presence completely so he couldn’t stalk me. Oh, I hadn’t been communicating with him for months before that, but the occasional email still came through to irritate me all over again. Life has been so much more peaceful now that all communication has been cut off.

I look back and hardly believe that was my life. It’s inconceivable to me now that I allowed one person to control my every thought, my every movement. It’s almost like a bad dream, life has changed so much.

Sabu, Revy and I are still living in a 30′ travel trailer and I recommend this lifestyle to anyone who doesn’t think they can escape their abusive relationship because of financial issues or pets – I could not afford an apartment that would accept a 50-pound dog on wages from a part-time minimum wage job, but I could easily afford to buy a travel trailer and pay space rent in a nice RV park which enabled me to have my own private space and keep my dog. If I don’t like my neighbors, I simply hire a Dude with a truck and he will drag my home wherever I may want to go. I have the option of buying or renting my own truck and traveling until the land meets the sea whenever the whim may strike. I am not tied down by a rental contract or mortgage. I don’t have to do yard work or keep up with the neighbors and their new toys and gadgets. I am a modern-day gypsy who has chosen to stay in one place for awhile.

I have a great job that I love in an office full of truly Nice People. I don’t feel any stress over money and feel in control of my life in a way that I never would have believed possible. I have full autonomy. I have full say over the menu, thermostat, TV remotes, social events and ALL of the bed and blankets. I go where I want to go, see who I want to see and never even think of the consequences that used to be meted out if I stepped away from his line. Every day is a blessing and joy.

Back in July I posted that I no longer heard his voice in my head and what a relief it was. It took 1.5 years to drive his voice out of my head! If you haven’t been in an abusive relationship you have no idea how deeply the monsters sink their claws into your soul. This was a Big Deal and I quietly celebrated for a couple of weeks before deciding to step out of my comfort zone and put myself out there online as “single and looking.” I know, right? I haven’t talked about that here because if it turns out to be a disaster, well, this blogging thing is supposed to be all about the successes, right?

In some ways it’s gone well, in others it’s been the disappointment I thought it would be. There are a lot of freaks out there looking for NSA kinky sex and if that’s what I was looking for I’d have my pick of any number of Slimy Dudes, but that’s not really my thing. I’ve been told I want too much from a man. I have to shrug and think to myself, “yeah, it’s totally unreasonable to narrow my choices to men who are gainfully employed, own their own car, live in their own space (ie not with Mom,) don’t drink excessively, don’t use drugs, don’t have a huge pile of debt, aren’t already otherwise involved in relationships, don’t have small children at home (sorry if that sounds selfish, but I’m all done being Mommy, thankyouverymuch!) don’t need a Mommy or fixing in some other way and who can write and spell with something close to English grammar conventions.” I won’t be a doormat, slave, maid, cook or gardener with no return on my investment and I state that right up front. Ya ain’t gonna get free labor from me ๐Ÿ™‚

I’ll admit it: I’m gonna be picky because I can. I am perfectly happy with my single life. It’s working for me. But I also want to know if I could “do” a relationship the way I hear it can be done. You know, where two people of opposite sex are great friends who get along and like some of the same things and respect each other. It’s just not the same with girlfriends and dammit I want it all!

Anyway. This is not the place to talk about all that stuff. Let’s just say that I’m still single, still enjoying my life and looking forward to another fantastic year.

I’ve been away from blogging for awhile because I haven’t had anything to say. Life with the narc seems so far away when I’m going about my day-to-day business as to seem irrelevant to who I am now. I’m not sure where I want this blog to go now. Suggestions? What do y’all want to hear about?

To all of you in abusive relationships: there is a light at the end of the tunnel. Be brave. Throw off your shackles and walk into the light. Itโ€™s hard. It sucks. Itโ€™s scary. But itโ€™s worth every hardship to live a life free of abuse.

Thank you all for joining me on this journey ๐Ÿ™‚




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Feminism Isn’t Hard

There has been so much riot mongering in the press lately about gender issues that I’ve gone on a news blackout. One absurd story after another that does nothing more than get both sides of every issue ranting at each other and I’ve had enough. I have no doubt it’s a great diversionary tactic. Anyone know what’s happening over seas? How many soldiers died today in a senseless war that’s not at all about oil (wink, wink)? How many states passed legislation limiting the birth control options of women? I could go on and on, but, hey! Football!

This guy breaks it down in easy to understand terms. Especially at 2:23-ish. Srsly folks, get a grip!

If I end up talking with someone about sexist issues, I prefer to use the term “non-sexist” instead of “feminist” because saying the word “feminist” has such a violent reaction from people on both sides of the issue. If a woman has short hair and declares herself a feminist she will likely be called a lesbian. How does that even make sense? Has everyone gone crazy? I know The Golden Rule is hopelessly old-fashioned, so how about we adhere to Wheaton’s Law? Wouldn’t the world be a better place?

I can’t even write coherently about this subject today because of all the freaking out by people who would know better if they just closed their mouths and thought about it for one second. If you’re a “friend” of mine on social media and suddenly you find yourself dropped from my news feed, yes, it was done on purpose. Quit yer bullshit people bashing!


Posted by on October 2, 2014 in Battle of the Sexes, Crazy, Rants, right?


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Here we are again at the second most commercial American Holiday. For those of you not aware, this is the red hearts holiday, as opposed to the red and white candy cane one.

I’ve always had a problem with V-day. It’s so fake. So contrived. So commercial. So fucking stupid. Even as a kid, I resented having to give everyone in class a cheap little card when mostly I hated them all. Oh, Miss Sofie had no use for the imbeciles she was forced to spend time with every day. If she could have stooped so low as to use curse words, she would have sounded like a sailor describing the wild animals in class.

But this isn’t about childhood trauma. This post is all about that most “romantic” of days – Valentine’s Day.

God I hate the hypocrisy of V-day. Last year was the first V-day in 25 years that I “celebrated” as a single woman. The liberation was as sweet as the darkest fudge brownie, rolling across the palate like a fine Merlot, scenting the air with the fine fragrance of a hot lavender bubble bath.

And then the narc started in with his bullshit. I did my best to ignore it, celebrating Galentine’s Day with Awana instead, but the narc was persistent. When I failed to respond to his offers of love, he got mad. And then I got mad. I quit being civil and started telling him what I really thought of him. I had to explain to people why I wasn’t broken up over the ending of my relationship because everyone thought I was nuts for not being miserable to be spending V-day alone.

Ha! You know, I can’t recall a happy V-day. A box of chocolates (cheap, stale chocolates, usually) and/or an impersonal card do not a happy day make. It’s like the men in my life felt obligated to get these things for me but there was never any sincerity behind their actions. It was so obvious to me at the time, but I ignored my gut and thanked them. What a chump I was!

I could go on and on about how if two people love each other, every day should be romantic and loving, but fuck that shit. Being single rocks! I have everything I need with none of the obligations and pleasing another person to contend with. It’s all about ME now and I’m still loving it.

I don’t miss having someone to cuddle on this “most romantic” of days because I know there won’t be any obligatory sex on the agenda either.

I don’t miss being chastised for my lack of romance or abysmal gift-giving skills.

I sure don’t miss being told “it would take eight of you to keep me entertained.

Fuck all that shit. I’m sorry for you singletons out there who are unhappy about your relationship state – I can’t relate, but I do want everyone to be happy ๐Ÿ™‚

On this day, go forth and love the one you’re with, even if it’s just you…

And quit being influenced by the media hype over this stupid day – it’s all bullshit designed to make you feel Less Than whatever the current trend is.


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One Year Ago Part Four

A year ago I was posting about how I hate curry (one of the top posts on this here blog, strangely enough) and pissed off at the narc’s efforts to pry every penny he could out of my bleeding corpse.

I was fighting the narc’s indoctrination, the voice in my head that dictated my every move based on what would or would not please the narc on any given day. He was making preparations to go work on his boat, leaving me alone for a few days and I had planned my escape. I was tied in knots, anxious not about my escape plan, but about how he would react and the possible consequences.

That Thursday, Awana and I traveled over to The Valley and found my home and had her hauled back to The Coast where I set about making modifications and moving in. The narc was due to be back some time between Sunday and Wednesday, but I knew it would be sooner because he was always hoping to catch me doing something he didn’t approve of, and that was pretty much everything.

Everything that could be fit into Awana’s van and my car was moved out of the narc’s house on January 20, 2013 and of course the narc had to try to make a scene when he came home to find my Fuck You note, but I handled it okay and was able to spend my first night in my very own space with not too much stress. I didn’t die or have a heart attack or have to explain a nasty public scene or any of the other horrible things the narc had trained me to worry about.

So much has happened in the past year, and all of it has been good. Or at least a Learning Experience ๐Ÿ™‚ No catastrophes, I’m not living under a bridge or starving or in some kind of danger as the narc told me would happen if I ever didn’t have him to “carry” me through life. I have a good job, a warm place to live where everything is just the way I like it, I eat what I want, watch TV, spin & knit, go to the dog park, anything I want to do, any time I want to do it. I can talk on the phone with anyone I choose to with no interrogation afterwards. If a friend invites me out to do something I can go with no worries about narc consequences. I can visit friends and family at any time, even staying overnight with no worries that I’ll have to pay a price when I get home. No one is forcing me to eat or do anything that makes me unhappy. No one is laying guilt trips on me or beating me with words or denying me basic comforts like heat in the Winter. No one is beating my dog or threatening me.

I woke up today (again) with an indescribable feeling of unreality. As I looked around the dim room (it was not even 0630, damn you, Revy!) it felt like a dream and I was afraid I would soon wake and find myself back in that narc-made hell. But, no! This is my life now and it is fabulous! Can’t say that enough!

There was a Big Storm on Saturday, making travel unpleasant so Awana came over on Sunday to stay for a couple of nights. We went thrift shopping, out to eat, watched part of Dexter Season 6 (LOVE me some Dexter!) cooked, and generally amused ourselves doing what we like to do. And you know what? I can do it again today, or tomorrow, or next week. It might not sound like much to those of you have never lived in the shadow of a narc or similarly disordered person, but just being able to cook a meal of my choosing at a time of my choosing, letting the dog lick up the drips, listening to my choice of program on the radio, it’s all still a bit unreal and feels like an amazing luxury.

On Monday I deleted the old email account and changed every name and login for every account I’ve accumulated over the past 10+ years. My old ID is gone from the internetz.

Life is good!


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More Facebook Irritations

Last night I was cruising around on the internet when I got a photo message on Facebook. It was a pic of the guy (let’s call him Dave ’cause that’s his name) who started the whole FB kerfluffle with the narc. It was a selfie in the bathroom mirror in his underwear with shaving cream all over his face like Santa. Whatever. He’d posted that shot to his wall to show off how he’s getting back in shape.

The conversation went like this (my thoughts at the time in bold):

Uh, huh. You already sent me this one.

I did ??I was going through some photos !!

Yeah, send me something new. Like a shot of him and his daughter skydiving – he’s got some amazing photos of that.

Ya I’m sure I’d make ya blush !!! Lol

I don’t blush so easily these days. Totally rolling my eyes, thinking it would be another “getting in shape” shot because he’s been posting a lot of them lately.

[Insert dick shot here. His hand is also in the shot, with wedding ring in full view]

Oh good !! Remember me !! Lol it’s all good : ) I’m real open with my sexuality !!

“Open with your sexuality?” Um…yeah. Like all boys, you just like to show off your dick. This after much eye rolling and head shaking. WTF a dick shot has to do with “sexuality” I don’t know. It does show that he’s still 13 years old and still not familiar with the dictionary, which I’ve always suspected. Thankfully I dodged that bullet or I would have been bored silly within a year.

True !! Haha .. It’s fun !

Sigh. Boys! I was starting to get irritated at this point. I mean, when did he think I invited him to send me dick pics? Never crossed my mind and I never suggested I would like to see it again. We haven’t seen each other in 25 years or more. Why would he think it’s appropriate? Because I’m in his Old Girlfriend Club? Am I supposed to reciprocate? WTF is he thinking? Besides the obvious.

Yep !! Nap time !! Yay .. Long day of snowboarding

Hope you had fun. Should you really be sending dick pics to a woman who is not your wife? I mean, you can see your wedding ring right there…I really doubt his wife knows about him sending pics to me and I doubt she would approve if she did and now I’m getting really pissed off for her sake.

We have a open relationship it’s not so complicated .. We are very open !

Uh-huh. I’ve heard that one before. Whatever, Dude. Even if it were true, I gave no indication that I wanted to get involved with him so it’s quite a stretch to be sending me this particular pic. Men that I know lie. A lot. I, however, do not, and I would not be a part of an “open relationship” with a married couple. Ewww. And yuck. And who the fuck does he think I am?

What ever !! Too funny ! It’s all good !! Just having fun ! Well now I feel stupid for just sharing with ya ! Probly burn in hell right ! Lol have a great night : ) going to bed !!

Wow !! Nothing ?? I logged out and went to bed, my brow furrowed in irritation, both that he sent such a pic and that I was so affected by it.

Sorry. Logged out to do something else. Trying to spend less time online this year

If you knew what I’ve been through the last 10 years you would not have sent that particular pic. Long story. Just don’t, okay? I am so done with cheating, lying assholes and that he had the nerve to send me an unsolicited dick pic really has me steamed.

Wow I feel like a dick .. Hope things get better for u..

Life is great now, but you broke my winning streak of being a penis-free zone for a year… Srsly. I had just 12 days left! I guess it counts that I haven’t seen one in real life, but dammit!

My first reaction was to send a scathing note back, but he’s an ignorant redneck and he probably thinks shit like this really is funny, so I temperedย  my response and refrained from giving him a lecture about his treatment of women as objects, starting with his disrespect of his wife. He wouldn’t get it and I don’t have that kind of time.

Am I wrong thinking that shit like his is precisely what’s wrong with the world today? Why would he think I’m up for games of this kind? I realize that I’m totally Un-Cool for not playing along, but I don’t want to play along! It’s not funny. At all. It’s demeaning. He could have sent a shot of his smiling face and we could have talked about anything under the sun (although his interests are pretty narrow to judge by his FB wall) but he decided to make a sexual overture instead, leaving me feeling squicky. Yes, squicky is a word and it means exactly what it sounds like.

Am I wearing a sign that declares to men that I’m available? Do I send out some sort of signal that I’m in desperate need of a penis, so please send me dick pics so I can change my status to “taken” once again and make all of humanity feel safe? Why do men (and some women, I know) feel entitled to assault others in this way? Why do we feel like they’ll think we’re assholes for not playing along? Sure feels like emotional battery to me and that’s probably why this little exchange affected me enough to write an entire blog post about it.

Gaaahhhhhhh!!!!! The fucking entitlement complex of some men!


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And another thing…

I hear “happy” couples say that a good relationship takes “a lot of work.” WTF does that even mean? I don’t believe that a good relationship should “take a lot of work.” That’s just dumb. It implies that they aren’t compatible and never were.

IMHO (and take this with a cup of salt, considering my record) if two people are truly compatible and love and respect each other, there shouldn’t be anything other than trivial disagreements to deal with and we all have those with pretty much every person we come into extended contact with all our lives.

I hear things like, “he always does xyz and he knows I hate it!”

I ask, “did he always do xyz?”

“Well…yes…but I thought he’d stop for me!”

Or, “she’s so hung up on abc and refuses to change her mind to my point of view!”

“Uh…did she always feel strongly about abc?”

“Yes! But she’s wrong and she’s just being immature and bull-headed about changing her mind!”

Right. So s/he did or felt strongly about something From.The.Beginning. and you’re just now catching on? WTF were you thinking?

It’s the stupidest thing about relationships: thinking that you have the right to change someone else. They are how they are. You either love them and deal with the little things you don’t particularly like, or you call it off before it goes beyond dating. That’s what dating is for, for the love of all that’s holy!

I guess that’s what “settling” is all about, but why live the rest of your life in misery when there’s someone out there who will love you for your comic book/cat/yarn/old DVD collection? Someone who loves it when you laugh so hard you snort? Someone who plays mandolin to your banjo? Someone who understands your baggage – they don’t have to agree to do anything but be sympathetic and not stomp up and down on your Hot Buttons just to fuck with you. I really don’t think it’s too much to ask for. Anything else is just frosting on the cake.

People seem to expect that their new mate will just quietly conform to whatever preconceived notions they have (spoken or not) as soon as the ink is dry on the marriage certificate and that’s where the problems start.

I have to ask – why bother? If you’re not compatible, it’s never going to work and you’re setting yourself up for a lot of pain.

Oh, wait! We get into bad relationships for a variety of reasons and we stay for an even wider variety of reasons, one of which I would like to address right now: outside pressure. Whether from family (“when am I going to have some grandbabies?” “Your sister/brother/cousin has been married for ages and now it’s your turn!” “You don’t want to die an Old Maid, do you?”) friends (“we’re all paired off now and you just don’t fit in with us any more”) or some other group that makes it their business to dictate how you will live your life, they all suck.

“We just want you to be happy!” they exclaim.

“But I don’t want to be married,” you declare. Or, “I’m just not ready to settle down yet.”

Not.Good.Enough. for them. Sigh. Where was I going with this?

Ah! Stop! Just stop telling single people that they will never be happy until they are paired off! It’s not necessarily true and it’s not even any of your business, so butt out! There is nothing wrong with being single. Not a damned thing. Really. The world won’t end because some people choose not to share their life with another person. It doesn’t concern you. Move on. Mind your own business. Stop preaching that happiness comes only to couples.

Let me live my pathetic, empty, lonely life without your commentary and I will refrain from telling you how I do exactly what I want to do every single day. I won’t mention that I ate the last of the ice cream and didn’t have to worry about someone else getting upset about it. Or how I sleep diagonally on the bed every night and I hog all of the pillows and blankets because they are Mine, All Mine! Or that I go where I want, do what I want, watch what I want, read what I want and make all of the decisions in my life (big and small) with no input from anyone else. Every single thing is just the way I like it and there’s no one to complain about any part of it. My life is pretty much perfect, but I won’t disabuse you of your notions.

Unless you’d like to make a break for freedom, too… ๐Ÿ™‚


We like things just the way they are. Go bother someone else!



Posted by on September 23, 2013 in Happy, I totally Rock!, Relationships


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Love Advice

Yesterday one of my IRL FB friends posted this picture to my wall along with the accompanying blurb –

Les & Helen

Les and Helen were born on the same day. When they met as teenagers they eloped because their parents disapproved. After 75 years of wedded bliss they died just one day apart, aged 94…..’She didn’t want to see him die, and he didn’t want to live without her.’….How many Likes for this true love between this couple?โ™ฅโ™ฅ!!!!

Sigh. I can’t tell you how annoyed I am every time I see another one of these stupid memes. So few of my IRL “friends” post anything of any real value on their FB pages. WTF are they doing all day? Now, I’m just as guilty of not posting much, or sharing clever, witty or inspirational things that other people write, but you will never see a “like this or you are a horrible person” memes on my wall.

Anyway. She accompanied this meme with the following:

An example of some stories that are happy ones. Being with the wrong person is defiantly hell, but finding the right one makes life worth living. I hope you do not give up on love.

Before you go, “Aw, that’s sweet! She must be so happy in her married life that she just can’t bear to see you all alone and miserable…” the person who sent this to me is someone I’ve written about here before. A little recap: P’s husband is an abusive asshole and probably a narcissist. He behaves like a child and corrects her behavior in public. The little time that I spent in company with the two of them was very uncomfortable as he was watching her every move and she had her jaw clenched and her eyes downcast.

So what is the message she’s trying to send to me? Does she think that she has anything to offer about relationships when her own is an oozing pile of crap? Really?

My reply:

I knew from a young age that I did not want to go through life two-by-two. I saw, even then, the inequalities and understood the trap that is marriage. Three times I gave in to pressure to join my life to a man who promised to be my Prince Charming. Three times I did everything I could think of to do (including looking the other way when they committed Deal Breakers – you really have no idea what I have put up with) to make our life what he had promised it could be. Three times I have had to uproot myself (twice my son, too) and make a new life because those men were assholes who only wanted to take everything they could from me, to use me until I was empty. I don’t believe in love at first sight. I don’t believe in happily ever after. I am content, very happy in fact, to live with my dog and my cat alone with only our needs to take care of. There’s just too damn much Happy, Happy, Happy ’round here to find room for a man! Kudos to you if you’ve found your Bliss – I don’t intend to discount your own happiness – but your path is not MY path and never will be.

In her defense, she really doesn’t know what I went through with the narc* so she can’t have a full understanding of why I might not be eager to jump back on the Couples Bandwagon. She did back off, though:

Happy your way is definitely what counts. I can fall into the desire to see people happy as I define it no matter how often I learn that it’s not valid. I have good intent thou. I hope the happy good life stays.

She’s not happy. Everything about her screams at how unhappy she is. What does she hope to accomplish with her bullshit wishes for me?

I just don’t understand some people…

* Taking El Guapo’s position and no longer capitalizing ๐Ÿ™‚


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Is this really my life?

Thank you all for your thoughtful comments on my last post – you confirmed what I already knew and my decision has been made. But first, let me describe to you my Wednesday.

I got up, walked the dog and went to work. I was invited to join The Guys for lunch today – a “time to talk outside the office,” I was told. I accepted without a thought because my lunch time is my own and I won’t have to explain to anyone where/why/what was said. There is no Narc to report back to. I will not be grilled about it for hours later tonight and I can say whatever I want without first running it through the Narc Filter for approval.

After work I went over to a friend’s house where I shared a meal with her, her husband, three kids and one of their friends who was spending the night. We talked, we laughed, we played fiddles! At no time did I feel the need to censor myself (no cuss words while the kids were at table, but that goes without saying, right?) or embarrass myself backpedaling because the Narc would hear about something I said and chastise me later. I did not worry about the time or what I would have to do to “make it up to” the Narc when I got home. I felt at home and at ease. These people are easy to like, very casual and their home is open to everyone who stops by. I felt truly blessed to be a part of so simple a thing as an evening meal and some (not at all good) music. She’s learning the fiddle, I haven’t practiced in weeks, we don’t know any of the same songs, but we had fun and stopped before her husband’s ears started to bleed ๐Ÿ™‚

Sabu and I headed back to Towanda where I returned a missed call to Awana. We talked and laughed for over an hour and it was wonderful! I didn’t have to lower my voice for fear the Narc was listening and would question me later. I did not censor myself in any way and it felt like a subversive act.

For those of you who have never been in an abusive relationship, this sounds crazy, right? I mean, I’m 44 years old and I can’t have dinner with friends? Can’t have a phone conversation without thinking about every word? Come on! This is 2013, not 1513, right?

Last year about this time I wrote a post about gifts and their consequences. I am very happy to say that only a year later my life is so much better. I’m having trouble believing it’s real.

Today I blocked the Narc from my e-mail account. I can’t block his calls to my cell phone because my carrier (StraightTalk) does not offer that service, so I set “his” ringtone to “none.” He is blocked from my FB account. I took him off the live feed of my other blogs (he was only on there because he insisted he had be) and will block his IP address ASAP. He does not know about this blog, nor do any people that we both know.

It means leaving the rabbits behind, and I truly regret that, but in the end it’s them or me. He will give them away (if he hasn’t already) or take care of them (he’s perfectly capable and it would give him something to bitch to other people about) and they will live out their lives just fine. I will not be paying his cell phone bill on Sunday – he can figure out that he’s out of time, or not, for himself. I already told him months ago that he is welcome to use, sell or give away any of the things I left behind. There are a few things I would have liked to save, but I’m over it now.

I am done. Really. Finally. I don’t owe him any explanations or discussion. I owe him nothing. He showed me just how evil a person can be and that’s a hard lesson I did not learn quickly. He gave me the impetus to start a journey of self discovery that I am truly relishing. His abuse got me off my ass and moving forward. Because he abused me in so many ways, my natural empathy has been re-awakened and I hope to be able to do some good in this world for those who suffer as I suffered. He taught me that every kind thing I did for him would be turned against me. He showed me how a person can lie and lie and lie and not feel a thing.

I have officially gone No Contact.

So, that’s that. I don’t know how much more I’ll write about him and our relationship here. When does it become “beating a dead horse?”


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A Favor

Got a message on my phone from M telling me that Snowball needed some grooming attention and he was on his way to work and wondered if I could find some time to go out and see to her. No problem. I tried to call him later but had to leave a voicemail as he didn’t pick up.

Huh. We have been missing each other’s calls for a week or so, but I am not unhappy about that at all.

This morning I picked up after he left a message that sounded like he had a problem or wanted to tell me something – he was vague. Could it be that he’s found someone else? Oh, please let it be him letting me down easy! Please, please, please!

Nope. He needs a ride to the bus stop so he can catch the shuttle to the Valley and then on to Olympia where he will be picking up a new (used) car. He asked me if I would be willing to give him a ride. Oh, it’s at o’dark-thirty. Yeah, okay, I can do that if it will get him off my back for another week.

I told him not to expect any witty conversation or scintillating banter at that hour and that’s when he hit me with his idea of a plan. He thinks that I should come over tonight and spend the night with him. Then we could get up early and take him to the bus stop.

Ah, hell no! He asked me why. I told him that I am not a booty call and I just don’t want to sleep with him. Or have sex with him. That led to a conversation about what sex means to a man and what it means to a woman.

He (said that he) sees that sex is an expression of love and a way to heal problems in a relationship.

I told him that is bullshit. I said, “you have obviously forgotten all the times you berated me all day and then wanted sex that night because you ‘felt great’ after having ‘cleared the air’ about your grievances (which were all bullshit, by the way.) You spent the entire day making me feel two inches tall and then wanted sex as a reward. Let me tell you how it is for a woman – sex is the reward for fixing the problems in a relationship, and if you feel romantic after tearing me down all day, that’s sick and I don’t have to live with that attitude any more.”

Long, silent pause. “I don’t want to think that I forced you to have sex with me after treating you badly…”

“Uh, yes, you did. Repeatedly. Often.”

He pretended to be ashamed and confused and asked me why I went along with his demands.

“Because you berated me for not wanting sex. Because you told me there was something wrong with me if I didn’t feel as good as you after a day of tearing me down. Because you raged and accused me of having affairs. Because you are a dick and I felt I had no choice.” And on and on. Pretty sure he regretted asking that one ๐Ÿ™‚

Quick change of subject back to his favorite: himself. Blah, blah, blah.

Whatever. Gotta go to work. He said that he learns something new every time he talks to me now.

I said, “yeah, I’m a great teacher if you bother to listen.”

Sigh. It’s amusing to hear him squirm as he tries to figure out what will bring me back. Every time I talk to him I feel stronger, knowing that leaving him was the best decision I could have made, and I rejoice that I’m finally free. His posturing and lies are nothing to me now and he gets more pathetic with every attempt to portray himself as a Good Man. I enjoy shooting him down, I admit and if that makes you respect me any less, well, I can take it ๐Ÿ™‚


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