Part 18……Unoriginal Vampires, Oompa Loompas and Fake US Marshals; Online Dating Debacles Galore!

“I know who you think you are, sorry I’ve turned you on but now I’m kissing you off, your lines are whiskey and cigarettes. They’re not enough to make me forget”-Halestorm

When I first met Lestat I would get gifts from him for Mother’s Day, Christmas, my birthday and even Easter, yes Easter.  And in turn I would bake his birthday cakes and buy him a shirt or something I thought was meaningful, like a pen set and name plaque for his desk.  Then he told me that he knew I didn’t have much money and that I didn’t need to buy him anything.  Before he began to ask me what I wanted as a gift for Christmas or birthday he would just buy me something he thought I’d like.  For the first ten years or so I suspected he thought he was shopping for his wife because I got clothes that only a goddamned short, fat, matronly English teacher would wear, you know sweaters with appliques and shiny crap all over it.  I never once wore them, but I thanked him very lovingly.

As time went on I could see he began to pay attention to my sense of style and taste in fashion, or so I thought.  For the last couple of years of our relationship I began to get things that pertained to my alma mater (UTEP) and my favorite NFL team (Steelers).  And I thought to myself now he’s paying attention to my likes or dislikes.  He gave me jewelry on two occasions one was for Mother’s Day, he gave me a beautiful gold and diamond heart shaped pendant and for the last Christmas we spent together he actually asked me what I wanted and I told him I wanted a Pandora charm bracelet.

But before then I had gotten a lot of NFL and College swag which I loved, until one day as we sat together and he was looking for a picture on his phone of his dog (I don’t remember why).  As he scrolled that’s when I saw it, a picture of Fiona and his kids in front of their house and that’s when I thought to myself this fat bitch is wearing the very same pullover sweatshirt with a big embroidered UTEP in the front only it was a different color.  Then it was confirmed by another picture he scrolled past of her ugly face with the exact same scarf and beanie except hers was bearing the Green Bay Packers logo and mine was from the Steelers.  Now to some this isn’t a big deal, but I believed that I was unique in so many ways so as not to be lumped in with his idiot wife Fiona.  So what did I do?  I went off on his stupid ass!  I told him that it wasn’t killing two birds with one stone, and what the FUCK was he doing buying her shit like that if he didn’t care for her!  Then the motherfucker actually asked me “Is that bad?”  Before I went off on him again I had to think of an ex-boyfriend of mine that he hated (I mean really hated) and that was Kyle the brilliant Military man and physician, he hated him for being successful and handsome oh and younger than me.

I responded with “So if you knew you had something I had given you for Christmas and you found out I had given Kyle the very same thing you’d be okay with it?”  He looked at me with that deer in the headlights look he gave me only when I’ve caught him in an emotional dilemma that he didn’t have an answer for.  He then looked straight at me and then he said “You’d better not give me what you gave him!”  And then I said to him “I rest my case, one) because I’m not as fat as your wife, two) because I have taste and three) I am sophisticated and classy god dammit so don’t ever fucking do that again!” He couldn’t resist, he asked me if I had given him something that I had gotten Kyle in the past.

Of course I didn’t answer him even though I knew I hadn’t and you know why?  Because I was going to let him wonder about it for weeks to come, I knew him well and this would bother him to no end.  Like the splinter underneath the skin.  I’m not that fucking stupid or insensitive but I wanted him to suffer a bit, of course he forgot about the Him/Kyle question but continued to remind him about not buying me and his wife the same fucking types of gifts every chance I got.

After this little “spat” I took all the shit that he’s given me that was exactly like hers and put in the Goodwill donation bin.  Earlier in our relationship I would have never, ever thrown anything he gave me away.  I’m serious when I say this, up until the last five years of our relationship, I had kept each and every rose and the cards that came with the flowers.  I would cut the buds off the stems, let them dry and I had all of them, fifteen years of dried rose buds in a pretty little treasure box.  Along with the cards, one which said “I will allways love you” yes, that is how he spelled always.  They meant something to me, those things were important somehow because they came from him.  But after this insensitive and ever so stupid and thoughtless gesture, I took all of those dried up flowers and cards and set them on fire on my backyard grill.

As I watched all those, once sentimental items go up in flames that is when I began to feel my heart start to harden, become jaded in ways I never thought possible.  I stood there with lighter fluid in hand, as the smoldering flames consumed the handwritten cards, the words written in ink turning the beautiful card into black-brown ash and disappearing into the wind.  That is when those items turned from something special to just a pile of dead flowers and stupid cards with meaningless words.

During the course of our on and off, dysfunctional relationship, I decided to give online dating a try, because of course in the age of social media this is how people met.  It wasn’t being set up by friends, meeting someone at work, going out to bars or restaurants and hoping to find someone worthy of meeting.  But, I did try and turned out to be a complete disaster.  The very first attempt I was contacted by a guy who claimed he was a US Marshal, and of course I didn’t have any reason not to believe him right? Of course not, but something in the pit of my stomach told me that he may have embellished his occupation.  He had a picture posted on his online profile and one couldn’t really see his face because he had a football helmet on.  He claimed he played for a city football league.  So I thought he’s athletic, something Lestat wasn’t, and he was younger than Lestat, but older than I was.  So I’ll call this lying bundle of shit Rick, and when he’d call me I’d get a “private” or “blocked number’ message on my phone.  Hmm second suspicious thing right?  Yep I agree, but I’m going to go on with my story, it gets better.  Anyway Rick managed to ask to meet me and of course I said yes, so we met and all the prick did the entire time was talk about himself.

He scarcely asked me about what I did, where I was from or why I was on an online dating site but I still gave him the benefit of the doubt, even though I shouldn’t have.  After three weeks of him telling me he was a US Marshal and getting blocked calls on my cell I decided to do a little bit of detective work (it helps having friends in law enforcement).  So what I found was that this loser (yes LOSER) was still married, on his way to a second divorce because his current wife was getting back with her ex-husband, and he seemed to have an M.O (modus operandi) in relationships.  This is what he did; he’d stalk out his target, somehow convince them to marry him, then when that relationship began to go south he’d begin looking for another before the current wife/girlfriend kicked him out of their house and usually she was the one with the money……..yeah total LOSER!

With some arduous detective work (and help from some law enforcement buddies) I also managed to find out that he wasn’t a US Marshal (shocker huh?) and that what he really did was he was a maintenance man in a plastics factory on the eastside of town.  AND he also had more than a few child support legal actions against him so basically his entire paycheck was going towards paying child support.  No wonder he chose women with money or with some money at least because he was fucking idiot.  He bragged about his high school years of playing football (sound familiar?) and that he coached a youth football team as well.  I went to go see one of his team’s games, I took my youngest son with me and it was enjoyable until of course he turned out to be a complete and utter fraud.  So after not getting a phone call or text from him for two days I decided to take things into my hands.  The next time he called I decided to tell him that it was a good idea if we didn’t see each other anymore.

About a half an hour later my doorbell rang, and as I looked through the peephole and saw him standing at my front door, dressed in a suit and overcoat and (get this) a badge clipped to his belt.  I was curious so I opened the door, I mean I could have just let him keep ringing my doorbell until he left.  But I wanted to see what this asshole had to say, so I opened the door.  As soon as he saw me he threw a huge smile my way and that’s when I noticed he had a tooth missing from his right side, the first premolar to be exact.  I mean, how could I have missed this, really?  Anyway he was decked out in his Sunday duds and I stood there at the door and he kept smiling and I finally said “Yes?” and he asked if he could come in and I said no.  He asked why and I said to him “do I need to have a reason why?  No I fucking don’t because it’s my house right?”  His smile quickly disappeared.

He cleared his throat and said “I came right over as soon as I got off the plane I came by to ask you in person why you came to this decision” (yeah plane from where asshole, the corner of 1-10 and Yarbrough?)  I was already in my pajamas because it was fucking 8:45 on a Sunday night and I stood there with my arms crossed and carefully thought of my response.  “Well, Rick, if that is your real name, I came to this decision because I don’t like being lied to.  I think that maybe you need to find yourself someone stupid with money as opposed to me, someone smart but broke.”  He looked at me and asked me “What are you talking about? Lying? What?”  I stared at him up and down and then said to him “yeah, lying. I mean what is it that you’re looking for here, a place to move into?  Just so you know, that isn’t going to happen.  Also I want you to know that impersonating an officer is bad, but impersonating a federal agent that’s even worse.”   Finally even the sarcastic smirk was gone from his face because he must have known that I knew the truth about him.

I told him that I had several friends in local and federal law enforcement (it’s true) and that I had asked one of them in federal law enforcement to look him up and then he actively began to panic.  I threw the kitchen towel I had been holding over my left shoulder and told him that I knew he was still married, that he worked at a plastics plant and what he really did for a living, I mean other than impersonating federal agents that is.  I told him if he didn’t get off my front porch I would call the real cops on him and he could explain to them why he was standing there with a fake federal badge clipped to his belt.  Without a word, he quickly turned around and walked to his 2003 Pontiac Grand Prix and got in, and without looking back he drove away.  I could now feel the cold of that crisp November night and thought to myself as I sighed out loud, man can I pick them or what?

Needless to say Rick the fake US Marshal never bothered me again, thank God.  But that was only one in a long string of losers and miscreants that I encountered in my online dating adventures.  I mean I’m not saying that all the guys on there are bad because they’re not, I met a few who were really nice and potential boyfriend material as a matter of fact.  They just didn’t like or weren’t interested in me.   So on to online date #2, he was from Las Cruces, and I was okay with that because I’m going to give a guy a shot at impressing me no matter where he is from and I hoped that they will do the same for me in return.  So the thing about online dating is that people lie, they lie about who they are, what they do and about their physical appearance.  That I why I only looked at profiles that had pictures on them, but let’s face it even those pictures can be doctored or worse they can be years old and that isn’t what they look like anymore.

I get it, we all want to project our best self but what the fuck is going to happen when you finally meet this person face to face and find that you’ve aged, gained weight and lost your hair?  Come the fuck on Bridget (Bridget Jones Diary) follow the light and get back to reality!  So, onto date #2, we began talking and we talked a lot, I mean A LOT!  Like three weeks into our phone relationship (somehow I felt I should have begun to charge him) and although we talked constantly, not once did he mention wanting to meet me.  What I did was I decided to ask him out on a date, and I even offered to drive to Las Cruces and have dinner over there.  He said yes and we set a day and time to meet.  As the day got closer I began to get a bit more excited because I had seen pictures of him online and he sounded like a truly nice guy.  So that Saturday I got all gussied up in my best, picked out a sexy (but not too sexy) outfit, picked the perfect set of high heeled shoes to go with it and carefully applied my makeup.

As I drove 46 miles to Las Cruces he called me to tell me he was excited to meet me and that he was anxiously waiting for me at the restaurant we picked, the Winery in Mesilla NM.  But that it was super packed and maybe we should go to our second choice, an Italian restaurant off the interstate.  I said that was fine and he said he’d be there in about fifteen minutes.  Meanwhile I was already driving into the parking lot and I told him I’d wait outside the restaurant for him.  We hung up the phone and my hands began to sweat, I hadn’t been this nervous in a long time, since I first met and kissed Lestat actually.  He had described what he was driving and as I saw an SUV similar to what he had described my hands began to sweat.  I saw the driver side door open and this kid jumped out and I thought to myself, aww how sweet his son drove him because he’s nervous…….WRONG!

The little kid jumping out of the driver side door of the Chevy Tahoe was him.  He began to walk towards me and I heard him say my name, “Veronica?”  And I looked at him and I got up from the wooden bench I was sitting at and it got worse as I stood.  I towered over this motherfucker by like two entire feet! Okay maybe not two feet but the guy couldn’t have been more than four foot ten, he only came up to just a bit below my shoulders and I’m 5’4!  He had to lean upwards to kiss my cheek and that’s when it sunk in that this date was going to go very bad.  First of all let me explain as to not make myself sound pretentious or narcissistic in anyway, I don’t have anything against short guys.  But with that said, I am very rarely attracted to guys my height because I love tall men.  I think it has to do with my ex-husband who is one inch shorter than I am and that experience was not a happy one.  So maybe it held over from there but I know what I like and what I want.

We went into the Italian restaurant and they sat us in a small table in the very front of the restaurant facing the road passing by the NMSU (the University) and the waitress took our drink order.  He began to talk and I was already mad because yet again I had been lied to, his fucking profile said he was 5’10 and there was no way this Oompa Loompa was five foot ten inches tall.  So even then I told myself I was going to give him a chance because we had talked over the phone for over three weeks and we had a good rapport.  Then we ordered and I had mentioned to him that dinner was on me, but that didn’t mean sending back the dish he didn’t like and ordering something else……TWICE!  He kept complimenting me on how beautiful I was and how pretty my eyes were and shit like that, which lets face it I hadn’t heard in quite a while.  Then after his fourth glass of wine I asked for the check, as I was already annoyed that he had asked for doggie bags for the food he didn’t like.  Then he made the mistake of telling me he was literally going to take the leftover food home to his dog!

As the waitress brought me the check, I decided I was going to see if the motherfucker would attempt to reach for it.  But he didn’t all he did was order another glass of wine and when the waitress came by with the bottle to pour it into his glass I grabbed the check and told her “Please put that on his tab, I’m not paying for that, thanks” and I walked over to the register to pay for dinner and he followed me (carrying the plastic bags with the food he was talking to his fucking dog) and somehow that annoyed me even more.  He asked me if there was something wrong and I said “David, I’m going to go home now and it was nice to meet you, thanks but no thanks” and I walked out of the restaurant with less dignity than I had prior to getting there.  As I walked out towards my car he followed me, running while holding a plastic bag in both hands and yelled “Does this mean I can’t call you?” I turned and looked at him, didn’t say anything and got in my car and left the parking lot as fast as my Ford Fusion could go.

I got into I-10 headed east and in stunned silence I thought to myself I needed to give up online dating all together because I keep attracting nothing but liars who thought that if they lied on their profiles women would actually overlook these things when meeting them in person.  WE WON’T!  You can’t lie about something like body build or how tall you are, that’s only lying to yourself.  As I drove in the darkness of the Organ Mountains my phone rang, it was David.  I mean what the fuck did this dude want?  Not only did I pay for dinner, which he not once offered to pay for, but then I realized that I told the waitress to put the other two entrees he’d ordered and doggie bagged on a ticket for him to pay for along with the last glass of wine, so maybe that was it.  I let it go to voicemail and he called me five times before I put my phone on silent and drove back into El Paso in disappointment and disheartenment.  Stay tuned for part 19….


Part 17…….There’s a Reason Vampires Can’t See Their Own Reflection.

“I’m here to remind you, of the mess you made when you went away.  It’s not fair to deny me of the cross I bear that you gave me” – Alanis Morissette

There’s a reason that vampires can’t see their reflection, especially emotional vampires because everyone around them will see them differently if they can see themselves being assholes.  It’s all an act, a cover up, a facade of the body and soul they don’t know how to be genuine and they are usually cowards to boot.  Being arrested was to say the least, was one of “the” most humiliating experiences I’ve ever had to go through.  It wasn’t the only time that I felt betrayed by the man that claimed loved me, there were several but somehow I overlooked them because I was still convinced he loved me and I loved him.  One day he suggested that we take a “day off” and we’d go to Mesilla or Las Cruces New Mexico to spend the day where he assumed people wouldn’t recognize him.  I mean I wasn’t hiding, okay yes I was but it wasn’t me that would run in a blind panic at the sign of someone he thought might recognize him.  One day he asked me to take the day off and I was already on my way to work, dressed up and everything but nonetheless I said yes.  I mean after all getting to spend the day with the man I loved sounded much better than a day at work, right?  Wrong, that day I agreed because I missed spending time with him and he suggested we go take in a movie.  So we drove to the Northeast to the theaters over there because I mean who the fuck did either of us know over on that side of town?  Mind you El Paso isn’t a big city, it seems everyone knows everyone else or is related to a friend of a friend.  We get to the theater and we pick a movie, he gives me the money to buy popcorn and drinks and says he’s going to the men’s room.

On his way back I see him walking towards me as he passes a couple on their way into the theater.  His eyes widen and a look of panic clouds his face, he walks right past me and out the front doors as I’m smiling and handing him his popcorn.  He just kept walking, and I’m standing there with my hand in the air holding his popcorn container, like a fucking idiot.  No wound is ever so deep or as painful as the one inflicted by the person you love “pretending” not to know you or acknowledging your existence in his life.  He proceeds to call me from his cell outside in the parking lot to tell me he just passed his sons little league coach and that we’re going to have to improvise at getting in to watch the movie.  He tells me he’ll meet me inside the theater, and all the while I’m still wondering what the fuck is happening here?  I walk into the theater and wait and wait until he finally shows up.  It was the middle of the fucking day for god sake, who the fuck was going to recognize him?  I mean his son’s little league coach was probably there with his girlfriend too, I doubt it was his wife.  But he decided to panic and make me less of a person in his life than he already had to that point.  I went into the theater and sat in the highest part in the back waiting for him to come in.  The previews had begun and everyone knows this takes up about half an hour of time before the movie starts.

This little incident gave me a smidge of childhood PTSD from when I was in the 3rd grade and I really had a crush on one of the boys in my class, lets Flashback to 1977, San Elizario Elementary.  Granted I was not a pretty girl in school, how do I know this?  Because almost all the boys in my class thought they’d tell me so. In any case I really like this one boy Jen Borrego, I believe his full name was Genaro.  I’m like Genaro what the fuck?  Anyway this boy I liked, everyone called him Jen not fully realizing that is actually short for Jennifer.  One day one of my cousins showed me a huge stainless steel ball baring that my grandfather had pulled out of a piece of machinery he was dismantling in my uncles junk yard.  At the time, marbles were a big thing and even us girls got into playing you know to impress the boys.  The bigger the marble the better the chance one had of winning.  One day I snuck into my grandfather’s house, to find the “giant” marble, because I knew where my cousin kept his “treasure” box.

It was this old cigar box with all of his most treasured possessions, which for a boy of about ten years old consisted of baseball cards, a bunch of quarters, a blue bandana, a pack of Big League Chew bubble gum, a metal ring with a huge plastic green gem on it and his prized playing marbles that he either won or bought with his allowance.  In there was the big stainless steel bearing he had gotten from my grandfather.  I thought to myself surly if I give this to Jen he’ll actually like me.  So I took it that afternoon and the very next morning I was excited as I walked across the street to school.  My parent’s lived right across from the elementary school so it only took me five minutes to get to the playground where everyone would congregate to have a few rounds of marbles before the bell rang calling us into school.

As I walked towards the playground that morning I felt confident, my hand in the pocket of my purple coat, feeling that round, smooth “marble” against my fingers and holding my book case in my other hand.  I clenched it in the cold November morning and watching my breath in the cool twilight of the playground.  I walked towards the crowd gathered by the merry-go-round and there he was, Jen and it was going to be his turn to play.  Right then the bell rang and a loud collective groan came from everyone knowing we had to run back towards the school.  As everyone gathered their stuff from the side of the merry-go-round I approached Jen and said “Hey Jen., I have something for you” and he looked up at me from tying his shoe as I held out the metal sphere in my hand.

His eyes grew big and his jaw dropped and he said “Wow! That’s great!  Where’d you get it?”  And I told him I had found it, when in reality I had stolen it from my cousin.  He took it and held it and said “You’ll beat everyone with this for sure!”  His eyes not once left the metallic orb as he stared in wonder.  As be began to hand it back to me I said “You can have it” and he stared up at me with his green-brown flecked eyes and freckled face.  He said “For reals I can have it?”  And I said “yes you can have it” and he said “Alright! Thanks” and ran off into the distance with his books under one arm and the stainless steel marble in his hand as he yelled at some of the other boys walking ahead of him.  I felt as if I was walking on clouds of cotton candy as I began my trek towards the door to my classroom.

As I walked I thought to myself, wow he’ll like me now for sure especially if he wins during lunch (what did I know I was eight years old).  We all walked into our classroom and situated ourselves at our assigned desks and our teacher was running late and the all the boys had gathered around Jen as he showed off his newly acquired prize.  I began to walk over towards them and I heard another boy ask him where he had gotten it and he quickly turned around and I stood still waiting for him to acknowledge where he had gotten it.  Then he turned towards me and said “Esta pendeja me lo dio” as he pointed at me, which translates to this fucking idiot gave it to me.  And all the boys turned and in unison began to laugh at me as if to say what an idiot you are to give something like this away.  My ears began to get hot and the embarrassment grew as the laughter seemed to get louder.

Then another boy Javier Castaneda said out loud “pendeja!” as if to certify what Jen had just yelled out, you know in case someone from another class had failed to hear it.   That’s when our teacher walked in and we all sat at our desks, I sat in the back staring at the entire classroom listening to the buzz of the new stainless steel marble that Jen had in his possession, it hung above like a cloud of toxic bullying, humiliating gas.  Our teacher gave us our assignment, I took out my notebook and began my assignment. As I began to write, tears fell and hit the blue lined ruled notebook paper.   I felt like such an idiot especially for thinking that this ugly eight year old would actually find some sort of validation from a boy she thought she could buy affection from with a stainless steel marble she had stolen from her cousin.  Perhaps it was karma for stealing the marble, but at that age I knew nothing of karma all I knew is that it didn’t have to be that cruel.

Back in present day as I recalled that moment from my youth I could feel the tears rolling down my face yet again, waiting outside in my car in the theater parking lot waiting for Lestat to make his way out so we could leave.  I had the very same feeling that day as I did when I was eight, and I will never forget the thought running through my head at the time, which was “Am I ever NOT going to be the ugly idiot that has to wait for a man to show her affection?”  That’s when my cell phone rang and it was Lestat asking if I could pick him up behind the theater, and I was like how the fuck did he wind up there?  I drove around the back and there he was standing by a pile of cardboard boxes looking like a damned crack dealer waiting for his next customer.  That’s when I realized that the crackhead was me, as I drove us back to the eastside in silence as he kept apologizing for what had just transpired.  I didn’t say one word and I dropped him off at his office and drove home to my parent’s house.  It was only one-thirty in the afternoon and I rejected his suggestion to go have lunch so we could talk.

I just felt so drained and emotionally beaten down I didn’t want nor need to have him explain to me why it was that he HAD to make me feel like a stranger.  I mean come the fuck on the motherfucker had just made me feel like I was back in the fucking third grade and he wanted to explain why?  I don’t fucking think so.  But that’s what emotional vampires do, they build you up and then they tear you down again only to want to build you up again.  Prince Charming and Carlos didn’t show up that day either, those motherfuckers.  As I took the long way home I listened to the radio and the song by Rascal Flats came on.  I had one arm on the door of my car and the other on the steering wheel, I leaned up against my hand as I drove listening to this song about a woman who is so special that this guy feels the need to sing about her and how she isn’t a day over fast cars and freedom.  How she doesn’t need makeup because she’s beautiful inside and out.  And just like in the third grade my tears began to fall without my actually crying out loud.  I just couldn’t keep them in while listening to this song wondering if I would ever be this important to one man for them to make me feel like a song.  Okay I know that some of you will say that if I’m so strong why would I need a man to make me feel this way?

Well because we’re all human and we feel the need to connect to one human being in a way that makes us feel loved and special in their eyes.  We all want to be that special song, it doesn’t matter whether you’re a man or a woman we all want to be reminded or remind those in our lives that we’re special that we are a song in their minds.  Every time they hear it, it will remind them of us, all the time.  But this can also work the other way around, when you hate someone so viciously like Alanis Morrissett did when she wrote “You Outta Know.”  That is a brilliant song and she must have loved that dude that dumped her in a deep (and maybe obsessive way) to write something so painful and full of vengeful suggestions.  Much respect to Alanis, she’s mah bitch, I swear if I didn’t know she was Canadian I could have sworn she was Hispanic.

The emotional vampire said to me once that all the songs from the Eagles reminded him of me, and I didn’t quite know how to take that.  I mean yes I wanted to be a song to someone and he definitely was a song to me.  Pretty much the entire soundtrack to the Urban Cowboy movie, don’t ask me why he just was.  There is a difference between being reminded of someone and someone “being” that song.  While we’re on the subject, did I mention that Lestat claimed to not like mushy or lovey-dovey feelings?  Yes, he would tell me that I had flair for writing and expressing myself verbally (we’re not talking about cursing eloquently) and that it was harder for him to express how he felt.  Which in my mind was total bullshit, and why do I say this?  Because he sure as fuck could express himself when we were having sex, and I do mean he could elaborate on how he wanted it, what he fantasied about and what he wanted me to do for him.

So the entire of “I’m not as good as you are expressing my feelings” was total bullshit!  He only did it when he wanted to, and that was during sex.  He also wasn’t very romantic in general, I thought he was with the whole fishing cilantro out of my soup thing.  But that was just being nice I suppose.  Because being affectionate he was good at, but being romantic he lacked a lot of eloquence.  For the first fifteen years of our relationship I’d get flowers for Valentine’s Day, I’d get a dozen roses.  As well for my birthday, but then it stopped, probably because his sister’s flower shop went under and he didn’t have access to flowers anymore.  But I’m not the only one that got flowers, his idiot wife did too.  He justified that he sent her roses for Valentine’s Day because of his kids, some more bullshit to process.

He had a unique place in my life and heart that I had a hard time getting rid of.  Like a fucking splinter stuck there in the palm of your hand or finger.  You know it’s there and you can feel it but you can’t find it to yank it the fuck out so it doesn’t cause you anymore pain, and if you don’t it lingers there just beneath the surface causing all kinds of discomfort.   But apparently I wasn’t considered this way in his mind, I mean let’s talk about how unoriginal this motherfucking emotional vampire really was shall we?  Stay tuned for part 18…..


Part 16…….Vampires aren’t Dating Material, they will Kill you no matter How Much they say they Love you.

“You never thought you’d be alone, this far down the line.  And I know what’s been on your mind. You’re afraid it’s all been wasted time.” – The Eagles, Wasted Time

The seeds of animosity began to germinate and only got bigger as time went by, only I didn’t know exactly what it was, I just knew that something bothered me about him and his proclamation of “love” over the years.  I suppose I was still waiting for him to turn into Prince Charming as I made excuses for the asshole and continued to think he was the great love of my life, which of course wasn’t true.  But nonetheless I believed it then because I was still blinded by love for this man.  Okay so I was stupid but what have I been saying all along, love makes you stupid, but only voracious, emotional draining love does this to you.  I’m sure that healthy, sharing and emotional supportive love isn’t this way but I don’t know what that’s like, I haven’t had the opportunity to know find that out for myself, yet.  I’m only speaking from my experiences.  This is when one begins to realize that love is and should be a two way street.  Some relationships are at times lopsided but relationships like the one I had with Lestat the Emotional Vampire was all give on my part and all take on his.

I rarely got much in return because of the “I never promised you anything” mantra he held steadfast to.  I’m not denying I should have bolted, but I kept wondering why fate kept me there for this long.  I didn’t think I had done anything as bad in this life or any past life (if you believe in that) that warranted the emotional suffering I was going through.  So I will elaborate more on exactly what kind of suffering and emotional self-mutilation I put myself through. At the point when my ex-husband and I separated I suppose he was in a vengeful state of mind because the very next day I moved out of our mobile home in rural El Paso County, Fabens Texas to be exact, and moved back into my parent’s home, he had closed all of our joint bank accounts and left me without a dime.  We had both contributed to the household finances but the asshole decided he was going to make me suffer for the separation we had both been at fault for.  While he did that, I had written checks (remember those?) to pay the utility bills and for food at a local grocery store the weekend prior.

Well those checks bounced (because he closed all our joint accounts and opened new ones under his name) and months went by with those vendors sending notices to me at the address where he still lived.  So what did this mentally immature asshole do?  He threw them in the trash, which in turn meant that I didn’t respond to the hot check notices, which turned into a warrant for my arrest.  I of course was unaware at the time this was happening but it didn’t matter he was going to make me suffer any way he could.  This all happened during the time I had just accepted the job at UTEP, and I was on my way to go and turn in some paperwork at human resources that morning.  I had, at the time a 1994 (manual transmission) two door white Ford Escort hatchback with electric seat belts.  That day for some reason the driver’s side seat belt didn’t go all the way back, and I didn’t think much of it so I left my parents’ house to make the twenty-eight mile drive to UTEP.   From San Eli to Clint the drive is about two and half miles, and that day I passed the Silver Streak/Exxon Mobile gas station, going slower than the speed limit.

As I passed I saw a Clint Deputy police officer, and he was talking to someone outside in the parking lot, smoking a cigarette.  The minute I drove by, the fucker threw his cigarette on the ground and proceeded to get in his car and at that very moment I thought “this motherfucker is going to stop me because my goddamned seat belt!” And sure enough he did, now let me describe what this officer was like.  A tall, skinny/lanky, blonde haired, green eyed twenty something, who was hell bent on doing what he could to make whatever quota he needed to make by way of traffic stops.  If anyone has seen The Andy Griffin show, and you’ve seen Barney Fife, this is what this fucker looked like only younger and dumber (if that’s even possible).  I looked at the red and blue lights flashing in my rear-view mirror and slowly pulled over almost in front of Clint’s teeny tiny police headquarters.  As I put my car in park and reached for the glove compartment for my insurance, license and registration he put his hand on his gun holster and yelled out “Ma’am please keep your hands where I can see them.”  I actually felt a bit confused because did I look like I carried a gun? (Okay yes I might have but I wasn’t).  And I didn’t move, what did this idiot think I was going to do, literally right in front of the fucking police department?

He comes to my driver’s side window and then he say’s “Your insurance and license please ma’am.” I’m sitting there thinking to myself, isn’t that what I was fucking doing?  In any case he then repeated the request and I rolled my eyes and handed him my information.  He then asked what every cop asks “Do you know why I pulled you over?”  I answered with “was it my seatbelt?” Then he lost all credibility and said “Yeah that’s right, wow your smart” and I knew it wasn’t said with sarcasm but sheer surprise at the fact that I knew why I had been pulled over.  I told him that I could explain that and asked if I could get out of my car.

He said “Um, well I guess” and again I refrained from rolling my eyes at Barney and slowly opened the door to my car.  I proceeded to show him and explain what had happened with my electric seat belt, and that I was on my way to get it fixed (of course I lied, this trigger happy, deliverance banjo playing mofo was going to give me a ticket).  He then said to me that I needed to make sure I got it fixed soon and I felt a sigh of relief that went through my entire body and he said I could get back into my car.  He then said he’d be right back because he was going to run my information.  I of course didn’t worry as I knew I didn’t have any outstanding tickets, so I waited patiently in my car.  Lestat called me and I had told him what was going on and he said to call him when I left Barney’s traffic stop.  As I hung up with Lestat, Barney made his way back to my car and he said to me that I had an outstanding warrant for a hot check and I was like what the fuck!?!?!

I didn’t immediately put together the pieces of the puzzle together but it didn’t take me long.  So he said he had to “take me in” and I thought take me in where exactly?  He gave me back my insurance information and asked that I step out of my car as he reached for his handcuffs.  Can you believe that? This motherfucker was going to handcuff me for a hot check warrant!  He asked if I knew anyone that could come and pick up my car so that it wouldn’t be impounded and I said yes.  He said I could call them and then I looked at him and said “It’s going to be hard to call when I have my hands in cuffs.”  He had another cigarette in his mouth and exclaimed “oh, whoops sorry” and I thought this fucking two horse town is in deep shit if they have a guy like this one patrolling the three streets.

I called my dad and he and my mom showed up to take my car back home, while Barney Fife’s twin decided to take me into the police station, which we were parked in front of.  As he walked me in like a goddamned common criminal in cuffs and all, his Chief was there.  He sat me down by the door and he walked into the Chiefs office and began to tell him why I was being arrested.  He also began rambling on about some serial killer that was walking his way down the railroad tracks at that time, Angel Rezendez known as the Railroad Killer and I heard this idiot ask his Chief, “So Chief I mean, this guy is like, you know fair game right?  I can like, draw my weapon at him if I see him?”  I almost laughed at the sound of this Barney Fife motherfucker thinking he could take down a serial killer when he couldn’t tighten the handcuffs I had on enough so that I couldn’t slip my hands out of them to scratch my nose.

His Chief said in an annoyed tone of voice “Yes Paul, he’s fair game but don’t go doing something stupid” which indicated to me that he was known for his stupidity, and I had finally found out his name, Paul.  Then I heard his Chief tell him that he could take me to the Eastside Regional Command Station on Pebble Hills and that he didn’t have to make the trip all the way downtown to the county jail.  Then Paul responded by telling him that he would make the trip all the way to the jail because he wanted to process me the right way.  Again I could hear a loud sigh from his Chief and he told him to do what he wanted but I was being arrested on a hot check warrant not murder.  Not that I hadn’t thought about it, I could have slipped out of my cuffs right there in the waiting area and walked out, no one was watching me while Paul explained his wannabe heroics to his Chief if the Railroad Killer got in his way.  I knew this asshole had bigger aspirations than being small town law enforcement he wanted to be a “real” cop.

As he drove me downtown to the county jail (which was in the middle of downtown El Paso, and entire 19 and a half miles from Clint) all the while I kept slipping my hands out of the badly tighten cuffs to make myself a bit more comfortable.  I mean as comfortable as someone being arrested and being driven to jail can possibly get.  During the drive is when I made the connections as to why I was being arrested and thought to myself that my asshole of an ex-husband was doing what he could to get back at me for whatever reason.  We drove into the parking lot in front of the jail where law enforcement vehicles are, he walked me into the grey, alien like building with small windows.  I had seen this building many times, anyone can see it driving by downtown on I-10 I just never realized I’d actually get to see it from the inside.  Not that I ever wanted to but here I was.  Paul walked me across the street and into the front processing area and as he did, almost all of the jailers, sheriff’s deputies and EPPD that were around began to mock him, almost as if they did this on a regular basis.

One of the jailers shouted out “Hey it’s Paul!  Have you found the Railroad Killer yet Paul?” and proceeded to laugh out loud.  That’s when my embarrassment grew, not only was I being arrested because of my asshole ex-husband but, I was being arrested by someone who was the most inept law enforcement officer in the entire county of El Paso.  It was clear he had mentioned (to anyone that would listen) about wanting to catch the Railroad killer.  I stood there as they took my mug shot (can you believe I have a fucking mug shot? And not even for a serious crime like murder or stealing) and the jailer took my shoelaces and belt away from me.  What did they think I was going to hang myself over a hot check?  I was to say the least frustrated and annoyed at being arrested by Roscoe P. Coltrane but because I overheard an officer with the EPPD tell him he could have taken me to the Pebble Hills Regional Command Center where I would have gotten out sooner.  He said “yeah I could’ve but I wanted to do it right” and the officer shook his head and said underneath his breath “yeah, okay.”  The officer glanced my way and the look on his face was of sympathy and pity, almost as if to say “Hey lady I’m real sorry you’re being arrested by this douche bag.”

I was processed and put into a cell with other women, there were nine of us in a cell that was about fifteen by ten feet.  By the time I was booked in, it was around lunch time and a jailer was pushing a lunch cart and as she got to our cell she handed us each a small carton of milk, an orange and a “bologna” sandwich.  This sandwich consisted of stale hamburger buns and a thick cut piece of bologna (omg I was in prison eating prison food!).  I waited for them to call my name so I could get my phone call.  Finally after about forty-five minutes I heard my last name called and was told I could make two phone calls, and of course like an idiot I chose to call Lestat first.  Lucky for me he answered on the first try and he asked me what happened and where I was at and I told him.  I asked if he could come and get me, because I had money to pay for some of the bail and he responded with “I can’t leave the job site right now, we’re pouring concrete” (sound familiar ya’ll?) I couldn’t believe this, here I was again in desperate need of his help, it was just a fucking ride back home, and he couldn’t leave the job site! It seemed this motherfucker was perpetually pouring concrete, this slab must be as big as the goddamned Hoover Dam!   Stay tuned for part 17……….



Christmases are Different When Your An Adult

“Sons of Bitches, Bumpasses!” – The Old Man, A Christmas Story

As the Holiday’s fast approach and everyone is running around lost in the consumerism of what Christmas has become along with the hustle and bustle of trying to get last minute decorating, baking, wrapping and so on finalized.  It has occurred to me that Christmas, has lost its meaning in more ways than one.  The fervor of shopping begins on literally the day after Thanksgiving and we are off and running, lining up outside malls and stores to fight among others for the most of electronics, clothes, jewelry in order to pay the least.  And in all of this, where is Christ?  Christmas is to celebrate the birth of Christ and the meaning behind his birth has been pushed back (way back) behind buying the latest and greatest of anything.  I am certainly not a religious person, I am a spiritual one which means I don’t necessarily believe that God only hears those that congregate but he hears all of those that have a spiritual connection with a higher power.

Don’t get me wrong I’m not here to preach to anyone, but I have come to realize that Christmas is different when you’re an adult.  These are my beliefs and I am far from imposing them on those that don’t agree with them.  But I know that Christmas was once a holy day in celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ, the one who died for our sins, and because of that, his birthday should not be about ourselves but the spirit of being civil to others no matter how much we disagree with them.  So now my rant as an adult will go on……stay with me here.

First of all YOU are the one now that is spending hundreds if not thousands of dollars on the very latest gadgets or the most up to date games etc.  Then you have to make it spectacular by wrapping it and presenting it to those who the gift will go to. Also we as adults are in charge of the decorating, baking, cooking and entertaining of family and friends and frankly…..I’m tired.  As a child all we had to do was wake up on Christmas morning and undo all that was under the tree and if we got what we asked for we were happy.  If not we would sulk a bit until well until we didn’t sulk.

I’m exhausted emotionally, mentally and financially so this Christmas is going to be less than spectacular and thank God my boys understand.  But for me Christmas has always been a struggle because I have a mother that suffers from depression, is narcissistic and I’m pretty sure she has Munchausen’s as well.  Her narcissistic tendencies have always ruined the Holiday’s, any holiday for me.  Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years have always been about her, what she wanted, what she didn’t get, how she felt and how no one in this world understood her.  She brought in some Christmases with crying, ranting and raving followed by alcohol induced tantrums followed by prozac and sleeping for hours, which to be honest was a nice reprieve.  One year my younger brother and I were awoken by shouting and banging around in the living room.  We walked into find my mother pointing a .22 caliber rifle at my father’s forehead.  In spite of her children’s begging and pleading she didn’t flinch.  That is the day I learned to detest Christmas and I was only eleven years old.  Of course, now she is seventy-five years old and fraile but her demanding tendencies are still there.  Only now after years of counseling I have learned not to give into her tantrums and demands.   I am forced to endure holidays with her and my father, and to be honest I seem like a bad daughter, I don’t want to spend what should be happy times with my sons, with my parents.  In any case, as a child one only had to be around adults until we were told to go out and play or go to sleep.

As an adult we are the gatekeepers of everything, our children (no matter how old) our elderly parents (no matter how mean or disagreeable) and of our homes (no matter how chaotic).  I want to spend one Christmas, just one without having to constantly tell my mother to pipe down because she comments on everyone’s gift after we open them.  Last year we opened gifts and she kept say’s “I want one like that” or “why didn’t you get me that?” or “I want to go on a cruise with you” because my friend mentioned that we should take a holiday cruise one year instead of staying home, we were facetiming.  And she added “I can get someone to take care of your dad” and then I stopped her and said “Your not being invited mom, this isn’t about you. We’re talking about me and my friend.  Why would I want to take a cruise with the person I’m trying to get away from?”  Granted I shouldn’t have said it that way but by this point in the day I was tired of her comments and attitude.

She didn’t talk to me for three weeks, those were three of the most blissful weeks I can remember.  In any case, when you’re a child Christmas is magical and full of whimsey and surprise.  You can’t wait for that day to come and to be able to show everyone what you got as a gift.  Your starry eyed and naïve, your innocent nature hasn’t yet been corrupt by the “adultness” of responsibilities, financial hardships, relationship failures and jaded by family issues.  Yes, indeed Christmases are very different when you’re an adult.  I’m sure that there are many out there who have great holidays with their families, children, neighbors and church families and I’m not trying to take away from that very well-deserved happiness.  I’m speaking strictly for myself.

I’m sure if my childhood hadn’t been mired by the dysfunctional family life I had my view of the entire Holiday season would be different.  But because I am very aware of where I came from and I have tried very hard to break the cycle when it came to my boys.  I tried to make it as normal and drama free as possible.  Of course that only lasts until my mother arrives and then the crazy train to hell stops by to pick us all up for a quick trip to crazy town.   But they know what she’s like and we, for the most part try to dismiss her behavior because my counselor tells me not to acknowledge her tantrums. So yes, Christmas is different when you’re an adult but let me leave you with a very adult thought, in the spirit of the Holidays, act like a kid if for only a moment, jump into the pile of wrapping paper, or the snow (if your lucky enough to have snow), eat as many cookies as you want, watch all the holiday specials and don’t change the channel.  Stay in your pajamas all damned day long, answer the door in them, walk outside and play in your yard in them (but please don’t go to the store in them that’s just unacceptable).  Hug everyone and I do mean everyone that walks in your door, show everyone what you got for Christmas with childish enthusiasm!  Sleep under the tree with (or without if your single or your kids are too grown up) those you love.  Cuddle with your fur babies and put weird sweaters on them to keep them warm and go and talk to the neighbor you hate.  Yes I do have a neighbor I don’t get along with, she has a life size Elf on a Shelf in her front window, and her four grown kids don’t have any children! I mean what the fuck!?!?! Hence the quote from a Christmas Story, lol.

I want to wish everyone a very Merry Christmas and a safe and prosperous New Year.


Part 15………The Beginning of a Slow Death of an Emotional Vampire

“You took my heart, then you took my pride away. I hate myself for loving you”-Joan Jett

I could hear his breathing and then finally with the feeling of annoyance I said “are you just going to sit there and let me listen to your blinker click away or are you going to talk to me?  Because I don’t need to sit here listening to your truck and your constant sighing.”  He said “I suppose not, I’ll talk to you later” and then I hung up the phone without as so much as a goodbye.  I was at the pinnacle of my impatience with him, there was nothing more I saw in him other than a middle aged man I was having an affair with.  I could still hear those words in my head, the phrase that made me realize that he is probably the most selfish man on earth.  The fact that he thinks I’m going to be around for when he or his wife decide to get a divorce, then and only then will he be available to be with me.  Okay, twenty years isn’t exactly forever but at that point in time I would have waited for this asshole.  As I sat there staring out my back door, I began to come to terms with the cold hard reality that, yes I had been played in the worst way possible by the man that I had once considered the great love of my life.  Love fucks us up in more ways than you can imagine.

Your sense of logic is nowhere to be found, we wind up listening to our heart not our brain, we let emotions rather than rationality make crucial decisions for us and then get hit by the boulders that fall off of the cliffs above only to realize that we’ve been dodging the truth all along.  Case in point, I had no social life because he couldn’t go out with me for fear of being seen by someone who knew he was married and knew his wife.  And like an addict I complied in order to keep getting my daily dose of deadly emotional drug.  Being in love with a narcissist and emotional vampire is almost as dangerous as being addicted to any other substance.  Love will fuck you up and make you blind to your emotional vampire’s bad behavior.  You won’t see it clearly until after you’re clean.

An example of Lestat’s bad behavior, well according to the book of Love, which was badly written by the way because it gives you a false sense of reality.  In any case, example number one; back when I had been dating him, I’m going to say about five or six years into our relationship I was on my way to work one morning.  I was driving down I-10 passing Lomaland and traffic was getting pretty thick, so much so that passing Lomaland it was almost at a standstill.  As I approached the Yarbrough exit a kind woman in a small SUV pulled up beside me, she motioned for me to lower my window and she said “Your tire is almost flat, I just thought I’d let you know.”  I thanked her and slowly pulled off I-10, which was no small feat since I was in the middle lane and I had to get to the far right so I could either pull to the shoulder or make my way off of the freeway altogether.  I managed to drive my car onto the McDonalds on the corner of Yarbrough and I-10.  I got down to take a look at my tire, and I was already flat on its rim.  Already late for work I pulled my cell phone out and called the office and left a message with one of the work study’s to let my boss about what was going on.  Then I proceeded to all Lestat as I waited anxiously in my car, he answered and I told him what had happened.  What he said next made my heart drop (I can still feel to this day exactly how I felt at that very moment).  I told him that my front tire was flat, and he responded with “I’m sorry babe I can’t leave the job site right now, we’re pouring concrete, sorry.”

One first needs to understand that when you say you love someone you will help them when they need it, I knew he was at a job site that morning but I didn’t think it was such an imposition for him to leave for maybe half an hour to drive me to work while I figured out what I was going to do with my flat tire.  I couldn’t believe the response to my cry for help, but then again in retrospect it shouldn’t have been because after all the insensitive motherfucker did let me sleep outside on an inflatable mattress in the middle of an El Paso August because he wouldn’t help me with $79 dollars.  And it’s not like I wasn’t going to pay him back.  But that day with the flat tire I couldn’t believe it, yet another time when I needed his help the most, he abandon me because he “had” to be at work.

No, he didn’t “have” to be at work, he was partners with his brother and they were both there but realizing that he was a controlling bastard he couldn’t or should I say wouldn’t let his brother take over for half an hour to go help me.  I told him I had to go because I needed to figure out what I was going to do to try to get to work.  I didn’t let him finish talking to me and hung up the phone besides the asshole was pouring concrete god forbid it dries up on his ass while he’s on the phone.  So I locked up my car leaving it in the parking lot of the McDonald’s and walked up to the Walmart.  I was wearing heels and trying to walk without looking like I was in sheer agony trying to make it up the steep hill, across the parking lot and into the store to the automotive department.  Yet I was in pain by the time I got into the store and I took off my heels (because it was 6:45am and there was really no one there) I looked for a couple of cans of Fix-A-Flat, put my shoes back on and I made my way to the checkout to pay for my purchase.

The guy behind the register was nice enough to ask me if I knew how to use the Fix-A-Flat and although I knew he was being genuine in his inquiry, I felt annoyed at the fact that I might have looked like I might not.  I blew the hair out of my face and said “yes I do, thank you” and took my bad and began to walk back to my car, thank God this time the walk was going downhill.  My feet were already aching and I was sweating like a pig and my hair had already gone flat because I could feel it falling into my face with sweat and aggravation.  Half way between the Walmart and my car I finally took off my heels and walked back the rest of the way with my purse, the Walmart bag and my shoes in my hands, fumbling around like Bridget Jones, awkwardly aware I looked like shit.

I got to my car, opened the door and threw everything in the passenger side and took one can of the Fix-A-Flat and began to inject my tire with some life, something I lacked at that moment.  As I heard the whizzing of the goopy gel flowing from the can into my tire I began to cry out of frustration and anger.  I replayed the conversation I had had with that ingrate and undependable motherfucker, thinking to myself he claims he loves me but he sure as hell doesn’t show it.  I looked down towards my dress and it had black smudge on it, probably from the tire and my pantyhose had torn and were running down my leg and my feet were dirty from walking barefoot from the parking lot of the Walmart to my car.  For a split second I contemplated going back home because of the physical and emotional state I was in, but I didn’t.  I soldiered on and as soon as I saw my tire fully inflated again I made my way to work.  I got to the office and in a futile attempt to try and look decent I spent fifteen minutes in the ladies room trying to undo the chaos that the morning had cruelly thrust upon me.

I managed to clean myself up and go about my day as positively as I could.  I decided (again) that I wasn’t going to answer his calls the rest of the day.  Of course that didn’t happen, he had called after I got to work and asked me if I was okay.  The inner me said “of course I’m not okay you asshole!  I had a horrible morning and you didn’t think I wasn’t important enough to leave for a little while so you could help the woman you claim to love!”  But the outter me said “Yes I’m okay” and he asked me how I got to work and I explained to him what I had done.  Then instead of saying something positive all he could manage was “Fix-A-Flat fucks up the inside of your tire with that green gel, you should have called a tow-truck.”  My hand tightened its grip on the received of my phone, I could feel the sweat accumulate and my fingers felt as though as if I didn’t release it they would go numb.  My inner voice yelled “Because I barely had money to buy the two cans of Fix-A-Flat let alone call a goddamned tow truck!”

I didn’t say anything, I only cleared my throat and sighed loudly, he then said “I’ll be there in a bit to take your car so I can get the tire fixed.”  It didn’t make any difference that he decided he would help me, because at the moment I needed him he wasn’t there for me, like I was whenever he needed me for whatever it was he asked me to do.  I said for him to call me when he was in the parking lot so I could send the work study down with the key’s to my car.  He asked if I wasn’t going to go down and I lied to him and said I had a meeting to attend and couldn’t.  I just didn’t want to have to see his face because I was still angry.  Needless to say he bought me another tire because he said the remedy I used to fix it would ruin my tire in the long run.  I didn’t care, I just wanted to go home that day and forget about the events of that morning.  Stay tuned for part 16……..


Friendships, Learn When To Cut Cord and Walk Away.

I just read an extraordinary post by Bryce Warden about her friendship with a person from her past that shared the same type of dysfunction adolescent trials as a teenager. As I kept reading, enthralled by her tale of kinship with her friend, it made me think of the three ex-friends I use to keep company with.  I hadn’t really thought of them in a long time but after reading this post I had to wonder to myself why are we no longer friends.  Then I remembered, oh yeah because they are emotional sucking vampires just like my ex-married boyfriend.  It may sound harsh to say this but this decision wasn’t made out of haste.  It was made because as my counselor put it, when someone in your life outlives their usefulness in it, cut cord and move on.

Now my reasons for being in counseling are because of the dysfunctional family life I had as a child, but that’s a story for another time.  I have been going to counseling for about five years now but before then I never thought I’d really need it. But it has helped with many issues in my life, including those with Lestat, my mother and those ex-friends of mine.  When you have friendships that were created in childhood one believes that they will remain steadfast throughout your life.  Not so, sometimes it’s best to look out for number one and eliminate the negativity that those friendship bring into your life.  So let me elaborate, I had three best friends from the third grade until my early thirties.  Three girls that I grew up with and ultimately shared many ups and downs with including getting pregnant at fifteen (yes all of us, okay three of us) getting married, having children and helping each other through divorce, illness and new relationships.

We all were married as teenagers and we were all divorced in our twenties, but our friendship seemed to grow stronger as we got older.  We would hang out and along with our kids we grew up together.  Then one day, one of us decided to begin seeing a guy from high school while she was still married.  The rest of us covered for her and I even pretend to be this dude’s girlfriend while making a fool of her husband in the process.  I realize this sounds completely hypocritical but my situation with Lestat was completely different.   This “friend” of mine was bored, she didn’t have a job and was happy being a stay at home mom with three children.  But she did struggle for money and her husband was an over the road truck driver who was apparently addicted to cocaine.  In her despair for companionship and stability she began dating a guy she had dated in high school.  Then her life took a dramatic turn when she became pregnant by this guy who was NOT her husband.

For months she told her husband that the baby was his, and he believed her.  He had no reason to doubt her after all and he was happy….somewhat.   All this time me and my three other friends would ask her what she planned to do?  Her response was to keep letting her husband think he was the father because she had no choice financially.  She didn’t have a job, no higher education and no means of providing for her kids if she did get a divorce.  We all went along with it, but all this shit soon imploded and we were all caught in the middle of the emotional shrapnel that hit her life and ultimately ours.  Her husband found out about her affair, the baby and how we (all of us) covered for her.  I got a late night visit to my parents’ house where I was living at the time because I was newly divorced too, by her husband who was completely drunk calling me all kinds of names.  Yelling at the top of his lungs and causing all kinds of shit at 3:45 in the morning.

My dad called the Sheriff’s department and they arrested him for disorderly conduct and public intoxication.  All the while my friend was going through an “accidental” pregnancy and her soon to be ex-husband had moved out of the house and left her alone, without financial means.  I and my two other friend helped her as much as we could with money, food and at times a car so she could go to her doctor’s appointments.  The house she lived in was a shambles, it wasn’t finished on the inside or out, her walls were only sheet-rock and the floors bare concrete.  Her and her three kids were living without gas and she had her dad connect a propane tank to her house for heat.  Which I’m not sure was quite safe but she had no other options at the time.  In any case I let her borrow my car more than a couple of times so she could go to the doctor or run errands.  I bought her food a couple of times as did my other friend.  One of us was so self-absorbed that she didn’t participate in assisting our friend because she was going to school and supporting her own kids and I understood that, but moral support would have been nice.

Anyway, the friendship mirror began to crack one summer day when we all got together and began talking about all of our situations.  Her with her newborn and the situation with her baby daddy, me with my Lestat, our other friend who was on her second divorce and then the self-absorbed friend with her issues.  I made a comment about how I had talked to one of my co-workers about a “friend” that was going through some serious personal and financial issues (but never mentioned her by name) because my coworkers sister worked for the YWCA and I thought maybe she could help out my friend in any way she could.  We had a good time grilling, having a couple of beers and talking shit about things and people we needed to vent about.  The very next weekend was her birthday, and I will call her Bernice because when I think of a Bernice someone stupid comes to mind, someone that is so dumb she thinks that tuna fish was made from dolphins!  I mean come the fuck on?! (No offense to other Bernice’s out there).

Bernice’s birthday was always the day before Father’s Day, and we had begun to plan on going out to celebrate Bernice and to take her out to distract her from her life and the problems in it.  But the weekend was drawing closer and I hadn’t heard from any of them.  I had called Bernice prior to that weekend hit but she never answered or returned my calls.  I had also called my other two so-called best friends whom I’ll call Samantha and Hilly.  Samantha because she was like Samantha from Sex and the City, she would get drunk and randomly sleep with strangers and every weekend it was a toss-up as to whom she was with.  And Hilly because she was like Hilly, Bryce Dallas Howard’s character in the movie The Help, red hair and all and just as stuck up.  Not one of them, Bernice, Samantha nor Hilly returned any of my calls and later that weekend I found out why.  On the Friday before Bernice’s birthday I had stopped by her house because I was curious and worried that something might be wrong, I mean we were best friends after all.  But she wasn’t home.  Then on Saturday night I was at home and my cell phone rang and it was Samantha, or I thought it was her, it was her cell phone apparently butt dialing, so I answered it and I could hear loud music in the background, people talking and laughing.  I hung up after yelling into it a thousand times “hello” and called her back and I got no answer.

Then it happened again a call and loud noise, laughing and this time I heard talking, they were laughing out loud and ordering drinks.  I hung up and then it came to me, they were out celebrating Bernice’s birthday without me.  Needless to say I was extremely upset and I went to bed that night hurt and wondering why they had chosen to exclude me.  The next day which was Father’s Day I woke up and still had the heaviness of feeling outcast from our best friend group the night before.  As Sunday wore on I received a call from Samantha, I through it was one of our Happy Father’s Day calls because since we were all single mothers raising our children almost entirely on our own, we’d call each other and say Happy Father’s Day to each other every year.  But it wasn’t a Happy Father’s Day call, it was Samantha to tell me why they had gone out without me, and my hurt quickly turned to rage.

She had called me because she had seen that she had three missed calls from me the night before and I explained why.  She then fessed up and told me that they had decided to go out without me because Bernice didn’t want me there.  I was in shock, and then I asked Samantha if Bernice had said why?  She said that Bernice was tired of me talking behind her back and that she just didn’t want to deal with me.  I was like what the fuck is she talking about, then Samantha explained that the day of our cookout I had made the comment about talking to a coworker about Bernice and her “situation” and she got offended.  Clearly the bitch hadn’t heard me say that my coworker’s sister worked at the YWCA and I was inquiring about help for her.  I had told all of them that I didn’t mention Bernice by name and I had only referred to her as a “friend.”  Samantha elaborated that Bernice was tired of me and how I acted superior to her, which floored me to be honest.  These were women that I had been friends with since we were little girls!

Samantha also said that Bernice told her that if they were going to go out and celebrate her birthday I wasn’t invited and the two other bitches just agreed with her, no questions asked.  I got no defense from these assholes whatsoever!  Then Samantha told me that Bernice had her phone that night and she suspected she was calling me on purpose to let me know that they were out celebrating without me.  As I heard Samantha give me a play by play about Bernice and her self-righteous proclamation of what she thought I had done TO her I began to think of everything I had done FOR her. Buying her groceries, giving her what money I could and lending her my car to go to her goddamned doctor’s appointments while she was fucking PREGNANT WITH ANOTHER MANS CHILD!!  Samantha half-heatedly apologized and then I told her I had to go and quickly hung up.  The fire of rage burned well into the night and as I lay in bed thinking of what a fucking ingrate Bernice was and what pussies the other two were for letting her just do what she did and that’s when I decided to cut cord and never look back.

That was in June of 2004, and I hadn’t looked back at that idiot Bernice who believed tuna was made from dolphins (true story she is about as smart as a rock), Samantha whom I’m guessing is probably on her fifth divorce and Hilly whom I know for a fact got herself pregnant (on purpose) by a doctor from Albuquerque for status and money.  Up until about five years ago I felt bitter and somewhat hurt, that is until I began counseling.  My counselor, who is amazing by the way asked me to explain why I would want to have friends who would dismiss me so easily over an alleged accusation without getting both sides of the story.  She said we have friends for reasons that include moral and emotional support and because we have things in common.  In our case it was because we grew up, were teen aged mothers and went through divorce together.  And she said if they no longer contribute positively to my life, in which we would grow and prosper as friends then there is no reason for me to keep them around.  She said friendships, just like relationships can become toxic and dysfunctional and that I had done the right thing buy not communicating with the three of them ever again.  She also made me realize that I had outgrown them in many other ways and that I would have eventually left the group in time.

She made me see that it wasn’t what I had said or how they had dismissed our friendship of almost twenty years, it was about how they would weigh me down in the long run.  In 2010 when I was still working at UTEP and I received an email from Samantha.  It was along rambling message about how she had been thinking about me and how she might have contributed to the demise of our friendship, how she was getting older, thinking about life decisions and shit…blah, blah, blah.  She said she was sorry about how things had turned out and that she wanted to renew our friendship if only by email but that if I choose not too she’d totally understand.   I read the email three times………..then I deleted it and didn’t once think about her, emailing her back or the other two assholes again, that is until I began counseling.  I suppose it was because I still had the thought in the back of my mind that I had something to do with the end of this friendship.  And yes, Samantha did have a huge part in how our friendship died a long agonizing death.  But I had moved on with my life and I wasn’t about to allow her or the other two idiots back into my life.

I was already struggling with shit regarding Lestat and I didn’t need the extra emotional baggage, besides my counselor also told me that when friends like those fade away others enter your life for the right reasons.  And she was right, I had met April, Victoria, Carmen and Virginia whom I met at my new job and turned out to be a wonderful friend to me.  These four women more than made up for the idiot friends from my childhood whom had chosen to kick me to the curb without hesitation.  So when I read Bryce’s blog about her long standing friendship I began to think about what had happened to my particular association with these three women and if I was truly at fault.  And the answer is no, I was not.  All I ever did for Bernice was help her out when she asked for help, and even when she didn’t.  It was her warped perception of what she thought I had done to her that drove her to do and say what she did.   She isn’t exactly the sharpest tool in the shed, in fact using the word “tool” takes on a whole new meaning when I speak of Bernice.  As for the other two ex-friends, they were also at fault for not asking for an explanation of why Bernice felt the way she did rather take her word for it or try to defend me in anyway, leaving me to twist in the wind.  Believing a woman so stupid that she was nicknamed Rose after the character in Golden Girls, only Rose was way smarter than Bernice (remember tuna, dolphin?)

So all of them had a part in the quietus of a friendship that was once so strong because of the sisterly bond that had grown since childhood.  I cut cord and I am a much better person because of the absence of these so called ex-best friends. I have both my Bachelors and Masters (contemplating a PhD, crazy? yes?) a great new job, I’m buying a house and all three of my boys are grown men who are absolutely wonderful sons AND the emotional vampire is no longer a factor in my life.  I have the friends I need, friends who carry baseball bats in their cars and ice picks and bail money in their purse!


Part 14…….Walking through Hellfire………..the Huntress was Born….Artemis the Goddess of Hunters and Wildfires.

“I’ve been waiting for the King of Hearts and still I get the Joker every time” – Sherrie Austin, Lucky In Love

This very real revelation about our time apart seemed to indicate that he didn’t really know how to process this information.  He assumed (narcissistically of course) that I’d sit around and pine away for his mistreatment of me and dismissal of my emotions, and long for the days when I’d wait around for hours for him to make time to be with me.  Kyle was perfect for me and our relationship might have gone further if he hadn’t been relocated to another Army base.  I felt cheated to because the one guy that I found (totally by accident) was the one that got away.  I didn’t use my relationship with him for vengeance (okay I did), only to tell Lestat the truth and to brag a little bit since he was so good at doing that until I realized he was making up a lot of the exploits he claimed to have.

Lestat stayed very quiet and after about fifteen minutes of silence I turned to him and asked if he was alright and he finally spoke and said “Are you telling me the truth about this Kyle guy?”  I said to him “why would I have any reason to make this up?’ That’s when I took out my phone and showed him a picture me and Kyle I took on the back balcony of his Laurel Canyon home with a beautiful backdrop view behind his house which was covered in freshly fallen snow (it rarely snows in El Paso but that December it was like it was meant to be and it was beautiful).   The picture was of me and Kyle, wrapped in a blanket because we had decided to drink our morning coffee sitting out on the balcony of his bedroom.  We’re both smiling and that’s when I noticed that I looked truly happy.  Lestat put on his reading glasses and took the phone from my hand and studied the picture, he stared at it for quite a while and then turned to me and said “You’re not wearing anything underneath the blanket.”

I took the phone and looked at the picture and realized that all we had on was a blanket.  I remembered that we didn’t have anything on underneath.  I explained that I had stayed the night because it had snowed heavily the night before and he didn’t want me driving down the mountain so he insisted I stay.  And stay I did, and I had one of the most romantic nights I’ve ever had, everything was perfect that night and when we woke up the next morning with the canyon covered in newly fallen snow,  he had coffee ready and asked if I’d like to go out and sit on the balcony and enjoy the new snowfall.  I, of course said yes hence the picture we had taken, and that’s when the emotional wooden stake went straight through him.  He then seemed angry and said to me “Then why the fuck didn’t you stay with him?!  I mean it looks like your happy there what happened?”  At that exact moment I felt my fangs grow out a bit more and they felt good. I turned and said to him “You happened that’s what and besides he was relocated to Ft. Campbell Kentucky and I couldn’t move at the time, if I could have believe me I would have left.”  Lestat’s beautiful honey colored eyes turned what seemed like a dark, clear gray and he said “Oh really? You should go because it looks like you would like being married to a white guy!”  I stayed calm, felt my newly full-grown fangs with my tongue and took another sip of my coffee, turned to him and told him “Ugh, fucking grow up will you Lestat, it’s tiring having the same conversation over and over with you.  I’m getting really tired that you think its okay for you to go and fuck around all you want.  But when I find a great guy to date it’s jealousfest on your part and frankly it’s getting old. Besides you never promised me anything remember and you said you’d never fight for me, right?” That was it, that’s when it happened, karma had begun its trek and was gaining steam.  His face changed with the emotional recognition of what I had just said to him.  I had finally found the perfect time to throw everything he had been hammering home in my mind and used it against him.  No it’s not right but it’s called just desserts for everything he ever did to me, and I not once not called him out on it seems to be a good and much deserved reaction to his selfish and narcissistic personality.

Adding salt to the wound (hey, this is about me not him so stop thinking I’m cruel and uncaring alright!) I casually asked him where he was that night, that very night I had stayed with Kyle. He just stared at me (which by the way I hate, at least think of something to say don’t just sit there and stare at me like a deer in the headlights for fucks sake).  His silence told me he knew exactly what I was talking about, I finally answered my own question and I said “That night before the picture was taken, where the fuck were you?  I’ll tell you where you were, you were at the Sun Bowl game with your ugly, fat horse faced wife and your two kids! So don’t you DARE act like I did something wrong because I’m not the one that’s married and I don’t have to answer to you or anyone else and justify what I do and with whom! And how do I know you were there?  Because you’re fucking family posts everything to social media.  Seriously if anyone wanted to burglarize your house they could because your stupid family tells everyone everywhere you guys are at, at every waking moment of the fucking day! That’s how I knew where you were you hypocritical bastard!”

He turned to look at me and the anger was glazing over his now gray eyes and my fangs were growing sharper as the cloud of confrontation in his mind grew.  He got up off the couch and put his cup of coffee on the table, got the keys to his truck and left.  I sat there watching t.v, starting at the scene in Casino, where Robert De Nero’s henchmen are kicking the crap out of James Wood’s character in the parking lot of the diner.  I took another sip of my coffee and smiled.  I felt my fangs had come out in full strength and I imagined myself looking like Kate Beckinsale’s character in Underworld.  Okay I know this is ludacris but we all have these moments, you know we do.  Those movie scene moments that we all imagine ourselves in where we do or say something totally spectacular at the very moment we mean to say them and feel ten feet tall.  With it came an underlying sense of self-determination and I didn’t reach for my phone to call Lestat.  I sat there watching the movie and ten minutes later he called me, and I ignored it then another two minutes later he called again and again and I ignored all four calls.  After the fifth call I answered and as soon as I did he yelled at me asking why I hadn’t answered the first five calls, I sighed and promptly hung up on him without saying a word.

He called back and I again I answered and this time he was quiet and said “Sorry” and I didn’t say anything, I just sat there sipping my coffee.  He then said to me “It just became very real that I could lose you to someone else.  That by the time my wife is ready to divorce my ass you might not be around.”  For a split second I thought, what an arrogant motherfucker really, he actually thinks I’ll be around for when he or his ugly wife decides it’s time for a divorce. Believing I’ll be around waiting with open arms, talk about delusional.  I responded with “well that’s a chance you’re going to have to take because your right, I may not be around and if Kyle had stayed in El Paso I wouldn’t be here with you, he might have been the one.  I’m just doing what you’ve done all these years to me, I’m keeping you around as a backup, you know just in case.”  The silence on the phone was deafening, all I could hear in the background was the traffic around his truck whooshing by as his turn signal clicked away like a stopwatch for the conversation we “weren’t” having…….Stay tuned for part 15


The Christmas Tag

HotShot Headlines tagged me in the Christmas tag 

It’s Christmas Tag everyone!  This is my first time doing this so please excuse me if I don’t know what I’m doing, but here we go.  I want to thank Simon from Planet Simon for tagging me, THANKS SIMON! Also I’ve included the original link to Laura Beth’s blog above as well as the Bright Bookcase who began this Blosgmas Tag.

The Rules

You must thank the person who nominated you.

Link back to the original post (the one on this blog) and use the graphic provided.

Answer the questions given.

Nominate at least 3 people. (or more if your feeling like a nice person  )

Give the nominees 10 questions to answer (or use the ones previously given)


How do you celebrate Christmas? With Alcohol 

Do you have a favorite Christmas carol or hymn? Grandma got Run Over By A Reindeer

Do you like snow? Yes, but I haven’t seen snow in about ten years since I live in far West Texas

What is your favorite contemporary Christmas song? I don’t really have one

What does your Christmas dinner table look like? It has alcohol, lots and lots of alcohol, preferably Peppermint/mocha or chocolate alcohol

What is your favorite Christmas memory? Getting my Huffy Sweet Thunder dirt bike, the only draw back was that it was yellow

If you could take a paid two-week break for Christmas this year, what would you do, and why? I’d go to Delft in the Netherlands, it looks like a great place to be in during the holidays.

Do you have a favorite Christmas book / piece of literature? Little Women

Is there a Christmas movie that you don’t like? All of them, except Scrooged with Bill Murray that one’s my favorite, oh and White Christmas that’s a classic.

Do you have a favorite Christmas special? Nope, unless it has alcohol I don’t bother

My Nominees are….

Bryce Warden

Tom Being Tom




Part 13………Jealousy is the Emotional Vampire’s Weakness.

“She has been through hell, so believe me when I say, fear her when she looks into the fire and smiles” – Unknown

Soon after Lestat began his financial “training” with me, which were nothing but long winded lectures about how I mismanaged my money and how bad my credit score was, I mean literally he’d lecture me about that shit.  I began to think to myself that I need to get my shit together financially so that when we get married, I’ll be financially stable and my credit score would be good enough that it wouldn’t hurt him adversely.  Now, I realize that someone’s financial credit score is important and it may cause some discomfort for some, but it was NOT the center of the universe in our relationship.  Or at least I thought it wasn’t, then after yet another argument about how he thought I mismanaged my money he made a comment that sent me into a fireball rage.  He said to me “How can you actually expect me to marry someone whose credit score is this bad?  I mean that is the kiss of death for someone like me!”  I thought someone like him?  Who the fuck did this asshole think he was Alan Greenspan?  Being Miyagied was maybe more cruel in my eyes because when he would still talk about getting married he would reference how he was so good at taking care of his credit score and how his wife didn’t and it affected him negatively in his business life.  That’s when I told him maybe he should teach her that lesson and not me.

But after our fight about my credit score I yelled at him “Then why don’t you go and fuck your credit score instead because I’m outta here mofo.”  I stormed out of his office that day hell bent on proving him wrong.  And yes, my credit score was shit because of my carelessness and my ex-husband (he and his new girlfriend/wife did everything in their power to fuck up my life while we were getting a divorce, but that’s an entire different story altogether) I own how and why my credit was shit and will for the rest of my life.  It took me a long time to get financially healthy and responsible and I will NEVER go through that again.  Even though the method I chose to get my finances together may have been the kiss of death for some people, it helped me more than anyone will ever know.  I was forced to file for Chapter 13 bankruptcy, not one of the proudest moments in my life but I learned a very hard, cold lesson because of it.  This happened during the time I was with that half-wit Waldo and when I reconciled with Lestat he was not pleased that I filed for bankruptcy which sparked another argument.  But I fought that battle by telling him that I did what I had to do, and no one had gotten me into this mess but myself and I would get myself out.  And I also mentioned that if he mentioned my finances and their negative state again, I would slap the taste out of his mouth.

I felt determined to prove myself worthy of his impending (albeit delusional) marriage proposal.  But his lessons came at a price, for him I mean, for me it was an epiphany.  The aversion that was beginning to build would one day come to a head.  But being Miyagied was probably the best thing that could have happened to me to be honest. I mean the best thing for me, the worst thing for Lestat because I needed him less and less as time went by, not that he helped me financially.  Maybe he unwittingly did this because he didn’t want me to be dependent on anyone to do everything for me (not that I would) like that useless wife of his.  Maybe he did this so that I would be prepared for when I would eventually leave, not that he thought I was going to.

Now I know he believed I would stay his mistress forever and he would have been happy with that because he’s a selfish self-centered vampire and add to that narcissistically confident as well.   In the movies when a couple decides to break it off, it’s always because one of the parties does so.  It’s not necessarily mutual, like in the Notebook (yes another movie reference) it was always Allie that walked away from Noah for whatever reason.  This movie too perpetuated that “love lasts forever” myth, and I’m not saying it doesn’t exist for some people.  It just doesn’t for about 85% of people, with divorce rates hitting an all-time high it’s hard to imagine that kind of love being real.

Of course it was definitely true for Lestat and Fiona because for the better part of their thirty year marriage, I was with him for twenty of those (imagine that?).  He had a mistress for twenty years and yes his idiot wife had no clue and like I mentioned before it was probably that she didn’t care enough about him to sense that something was going on behind her back.  Or, she really is that stupid I mean I saw and heard it for myself so we’ll go with that.  But he refused to leave even after both of his kids left high school and went off to college.  Our arguments about this became increasingly cruel and the emotional stabs became deeper and deeper.  He said to me one day during a fight we were having about this “So what?  When we come back from dropping my daughter off you want me to turn around and tell my wife, oh by the way I’m divorcing you and I’m moving out?”

I looked at him and said “uh yeah pretty much!  I mean you’ve made me wait this long, why I am I the only one paying the price for this?  Make her suffer some why not?”  Well that fight ended with me walking out and leaving yet again.  I also mentioned that if he remembered he told me that he had moved back to “raise” their kids together, not work on their broken marriage because that is why they had separated in the first place.  I guess that idea dissipated during the course of the getting back for the sake of the kids and turned into working on their marriage.  Somewhere during all of this I was the one that got lost in the shuffle of lives and emotions and became his dirty little secret.  Which I didn’t like but I endured because I was convinced that I was in love with him (yes still….).

The Vampire’s Weakness, JEALOUSY 

At the tail end of my twenty year affair with Lestat I had evolved into someone he hardly recognized, his words not mine.  Because he actually wanted me to stay exactly like who I was when we first met.  First of all, I was twenty-nine years old and naïve and I listened to everything he said, EVERYTHING.   His manipulation was a lot stronger when I was younger but as I grew older, wiser and more educated his emotional grip became weaker and weaker.  The ideas he once dictated as law were now met with rebuttals and inquiries about why he believed these ideas to be true.  But that was evident by the “Don’t buy a Car without the Person you’re buying it for” input conversation.

We rarely saw eye to eye on anything anymore, because we had agreed on everything for the most part prior to this stage in our relationship.  When we first met I was enamored by his very presence.  I saw him, well like a devastatingly handsome vampire, black cape and all, with his killer dimples and vampiric smile, rough hands and his worldly knowledge.  That image began to fade as I got older and he got older as well and more tiresome in his ideas and philosophies.  I knew that my evolution was not only eminent but it had happened when I or he wasn’t looking.  I had gone from a girl in her late twenties to an educated woman with knowledge and experience and able to think for myself in every aspect of my life.  I learned lessons and at first most of the time failing, falling, skinning my knees then getting back up again and making it to the end of the line of each struggle.  He, on the other hand had stayed exactly where he was when we first met.  He was no longer thirty-six, pulling off wearing tight Wranglers, button-downs and cowboy boots with his beautifully wavy muddy brown hair.  Now he was fifty-four, still wearing Wranglers only now his man muffin-top hung over the top of his pants with his short-sleeve button downs and the same old cowboy boots.  Oh and somehow, somewhere he lost his great ass and charming grip over me.

In his case personal evolution was being fought back by this vampire who refused to change and/or adapt with the world around him and still dressed like he did in high school.  Any attempt to try and update his ideas, thinking and fashion sense were stifled by his refusal as well as his mantra “this is who I am and if you don’t like it, too bad.”  He remained stuck in 1999 which was when we first met, and although the world was vastly different, his vampiric nature remained the same.  He had begun going through his midlife crisis when he was forty-eight and bought himself a brand new Black Chevy Corvette, this thing was beautiful and it drove like a dream.  High gloss black paint, red and black leather interior with heated seats and Bluetooth capabilities.  I mean if a vampire was going to have a car this was it.  When he brought it by my house I was in awe of this wonderful piece of American made muscle (did I mention that this car cost about half of what he could have given me for a house?  Or that his monthly payment was about as much as a mortgage payment?)

A couple of weeks later I was driving to work and passed a white Corvette about the same make and model as Lestat’s, and inside was a middle aged man with slicked back salt and pepper hair balding on top and a pony tail down the back, Ray Ban sunglasses and he turned to me and smiled.  I was not impressed, and that’s when I realized that the only men who drive these cars are the only ones that can afford them, middle aged, mid-life crisis, balding, aging, fat men who believe the car they’re in is going to make them look younger and more attractive to younger women.  My assessment might be off but just to be fair, I saw a charcoal gray Corvette on the road two weeks after and the woman that was driving it was also older, bleach blonde hair wearing sunglasses and the wrinkles in her face and her batwing arms were flapping in the wind (she had a sun roof).  I’ve made my point, one rarely sees a young attractive man or woman in a nice expensive sports car.  And if you do, it probably belongs to their parents.

Lestat became increasingly insecure and would constantly ask me if I still loved him, which at the time I did.  I realized that we were reversing roles and although I hadn’t become as cruel as he was to me, I was becoming indifferent to him, his needs and wants.  This is when he began to tell me he’d slept with different women of all ages during many of the times we were apart.  Why he thought he needed to tell me instead of keeping it to himself became evident as time went on.  At first I believed him and the jealousy I thought I had buried deep down in the depths of indifference would come bubbling up again.  His attempts at trying to make me jealous worked in the beginning that is, but then a wise friend of mine, whom we’ll call Carmen said to me, “Are you serious, you actually think he can go out and pick up a young, beautiful twenty-five year old to go and fuck her? He’s only telling you that because he has to. The only way that is even possible is if he was able to drive his Corvette into the bar and sit there until a younger woman noticed him and even then it would be a gold-digging money hungry younger woman who thinks they can get anything they want out of men like him.  And you know he’s not about to become anyone’s fucking sugar daddy when he can’t even give you money for food or help you with rent. Snap out of it, he’s lying to you so he can make himself feel and look good.”

Carmen rarely had moments of clarity but when she did they were awesome! And she was right, it might have happened but not as often as he said it did and that is when I saw him for the sad, middle aged emotional vampire that he really was.  Nevertheless I allowed him to keep telling me this, don’t ask me why.  I just did but I didn’t feel the overbearing jealousy or anger when he did and that is what I think bothered him the most.  Once when we got back together he began to tell me yet another story about his sexual exploits and I let him finish.  We were at my house one Saturday morning watching a movie and I didn’t say anything or react, then he made the mistake of asking me what I had done during our time apart.  And I turned to him while taking a sip of my coffee and said “Yeah, pretty much the same” and then he looked at me and said “The same?  What do you mean?”  And I knew I had him, I had baited him and he took it and I had him dangling on my emotional deep sea fishing rod.

I said, I met someone too and yes I slept with him (well because we dated for almost three months) and as much as he tried NOT to ask he couldn’t help himself.  He asked me to elaborate (something I didn’t do when he told me about this fictional sexual encounters while we were apart).  I just sat there and calmly told him about this man (actually a Major in the Army, and a doctor no less) that I had met at work and he had asked me out.  Not only did he ask me out he (we’ll call him Kyle) invited me over to his house because he was going to cook me dinner.  He was stunned silent and whether or not he believed me (I suspect he did) didn’t matter.  I had him, and the curiosity he was emanating my way was fucking killing him, I could feel it.  He asked me how I had met him I told him, he was an audiologist at William Beaumont Army Medical Center and he went he gave a lecture at the university where I worked and we began talking and one thing lead to another and he asked me out.

Then Lestat the middle aged vampire asked me more about him so I decided to take the emotional wooden stake and pull a Van Helsing and stick it right through his cold dark heart.  I told him that Kyle was a Major in the Army and he was a physician, he was divorced, had two kids and lived on Sharondale Drive on the mountains off of Stanton on the west side, those are million dollar houses we’re talking about (I thought I’d throw that in there).  He looked down at his cup of coffee as if trying to find a safety net in the dark creamy brew swirling in his cup.  He stayed quiet, then as I had the emotional wooden stake three quarters of the way in he asked me how old he was.  Now before I go on I need to make one thing clear, I have never been attracted to younger men.  I have always been a sucker for older, more refined men. But that doesn’t mean I actually found any, also I have always found myself attracted to white guys as well.  Kyle, he was not only younger than me, he was an accomplished officer in the Army with a prestigious medical career.  So as I sat there watching the movie Casino for the fourteenth hundred time, without looking over at him I said “Kyle? Oh, he’s seven years younger than I am.”  And the emotional wooden stake began to sink through to his bleeding heart.  Stay tuned for part 14….…


LinkedIn Private Mode Stalking

Let’s get serious for a minute here, in social media there should be safeguards for those that use it.  But I prefer to think of LinkedIn as a professional portal to connect to like minded professionals NOT as a different type of “social” media, although it can be “sociable” in a professional manner.  This comes about because I might be getting stalked by Waldo.  Anyone who’s read my blog and the dating misadventures I’ve had know who this person is.  This is only an assumption, but my point being that I have a LinkedIn account and it tells me someone is viewing my profile in “Private Mode.”  What I want to know is why does LinkedIn have a private mode since this isn’t technically a “social” media page?  I get this “One LinkedIn Member viewed your Profile in Private Mode” notification and this is infuriating!  This isn’t Facebook, Instagram or Snapchat, it’s a professional page that should stay professional.

No one should post selfies of themselves at their desk trying on a new lipstick (yes it has happened) or sexy poses that will absolutely make you look completely unprofessional not to mention ridiculous.  Your profile picture should remain professional and so should your content.  I get email notifications that I have appeared in searches which is actually a good thing if I’m being scouted for a potentially higher paying job.  But when I click on it and see that someone has viewed my profile in “private mode” it makes me think to myself, what the HELL does this person have to hide unless it’s someone I detest then, yes you should hide because I will tell you to stop stalking me!

This is why I suspect that it’s Waldo, that boorish (and boring) pain in the ass that has asked a couple of former co-workers that still work at the other university with him, about me.  I deserve better protection from LinkedIn because it’s the account I actually use.  I don’t have a Facebook, Instagram, Twitter or Snapchat account for several reasons, but the biggest reason is being stalked by stupid people that make even stupider (spell check says that’s a word) comments about you, your life or your interests.  The world is negative enough as it is, I don’t need people living their negative lives vicariously through my social media.  LinkedIn is the only “socializing” I do for professional purposes and then I get this notification every week that someone who doesn’t want me to know who they are or why they are viewing my professional profile in private mode.

I believe that LinkedIn should remove this feature from their page, if its work related then you shouldn’t have to hide for any reason.  But I do have to say that I like that they give their users the ability to block another user from being able to view their profile.  Because sometimes you need that type of protection.  But then again that is what is prompting people like Waldo to go into Private Mode on my ass because I’ve blocked him and several others from my connections to keep them out of my work life.   If Waldo knew how I really felt about him he’d break down and cry in the fetal position in his basement office.  I think he’d be in shock to find exactly how much I can’t stand him, like run you over in the parking lot type of hate.  I think this would go very, very bad for him, more so than it would for me I’m just sayin’.  This is the Huntress915 over and out!


Holiday Flavors that Suck…..

I just read an article about the things wrong with the holidays, and to be honest it was pretty insightful.  Which brings me to what is probably THE most annoying holiday thing ever.  Pumpkin Spice.  I mean WTF is it with Pumpkin spiced everything?  I don’t understand this fascination with pumpkin flavored, scented or colored anything.  As I sat at a stop light on my way to work this morning and thought to myself, what next what else could pumpkin spice permiate to ruin the holidays?  Then I looked up and saw it, Martin Tire on the corner of Lee Trevino and Rojas is offering a pumpkin spiced oil change……only in El Paso (okay it was kinda funny).  I couldn’t take a picture because as I reached for my phone the light turned green.  Now I realize this was done in jest, because even though I don’t like pumpkin spice I do appreciate a great sense of humor.

But really what is so special about pumpkin spice flavoring that we are practically creating an entire holiday season around it.  Never mind the pesky little thing about Christmas and Jesus (yes that was sarcasm) I mean did one of the three wise men being the baby Jesus a pumpkin spice latte or was it pumpkin spice instead of frankincense that was given? I for one HATE pumpkin spiced anything, I don’t even eat pumpkin pie at Thanksgiving and along with cilantro wouldn’t care to taste it again as long as I live.  But in defense of pumpkin itself, I love the different types of pumpkins that offer us so much. Like butternut, acorn, winter and my favorite spaghetti squash, those I can deal with even love.

But this entire Pumpkin Spice crap, we have so many other flavors to celebrate the holiday season without getting all batshit crazy about Pumpkin Spice.  I for one nominate PEPPERMINT MOCHA EVERYTHING!  I would rather drink a peppermint mocha latte than anything pumpkin spiced.  I’m sure pumpkin really isn’t spiced and if it were maybe it would be better if marketing departments everywhere could be convinced to sell chocolate, rum and sugar cookie flavors, now that maybe I’d try.   Now if I could only get those guys at Martin Tire to offer a Peppermint Mocha oil change……This is the Huntress915 over and out.


Part 12………Lessons Learned from the Karate Kid and Mr. Miyagi.

“The biggest coward of a man is to awaken the love of a woman without the intention of loving her” – Bob Marley

During the twenty years of my relationship with Lestat, I felt as though I was sleepwalking through that period of my life, not realizing that twenty years does go by faster than anyone believes.  But the somnambulism crisis I found myself in seemed to also keep Sharlene from being able to communicate with me, but she eventually found a way and I began to wake up to realize that I needed to find an emotional wooden stake to try to scare Lestat the vampire or kill him off all together.  I had gone through many transformations during my time with him, some bad but most good because of the fact that I had graduated from college with my bachelor’s degree, moved to higher paying job at a different university and had begun my Master’s program.  This is when I realized that good things actually happen to me when he’s absent from my life, and it only took me eighteen years to figure it out!  Yes that was sarcasm and yes I am sarcastic in case no one noticed.

But as I recall many of the emotional distresses I had gone through because of him I began to write down to sort of gauge the ups and downs of my life.  If it was a scatter plot graph it would look like a bloody gangster movie scene, dots or in his case splatters of blood throughout my life but the calm, quiet and productive times were even and steady.  During this time I began to listen to Sharlene and told my heart to shut the fuck up for once because we were going to listen to my brain and let her present her life plan to us (imagine my heart duck taped and immobile from any communication whatsoever).  One day while I was alone at home I began to go through my Netfix and found the movie The Bridges of Madison County, I had seen this movie years before but had forgotten most of the plot. So I hunkered down for a rainy Saturday afternoon with my snacks and a movie.

I watched in amazement at the plot and how the characters relationship developed and how beautiful Meryl Streep and handsome Clint Eastwood came off even playing characters in middle age.  Then the fucking waterworks began, I couldn’t stop crying because, one I had realized that I am NOW MIDDLE AGE!  And two, that Clint Eastwood’s character’s name was Robert in the movie (Lestat’s real name) and that I had no chance of survival while in the grasp of the emotional vampire I was convinced I was still in love with.  Actually, he had turned into the Vampire character in the movie Van Helsing played by Richard Roxburgh.  A handsome mysterious man but when he turned into a vampire he became hideously cruel and vengeful, and that is how I saw Lestat; evolving especially because by this time both his kids had graduated high school and wouldn’t you know it?  He was still living at home with Fiona, remember the woman he said he didn’t love but moved back home with to raise their kids together?

During our lifetime together I had had many theories about what I thought love to be.  I thought that it was eternal and that true love lasts forever, breaking the bonds of death and time.  Then I came to see it as voracious, taking and destroying everything in its path like a hurricane or wildfire.  I also once held that true love will surpass even human existence and other lifetimes, once hearing a song from a campy 1970’s movie called The Phantom of the Paradise, which was really corny but the soundtrack is fucking awesome.  Paul Williams wrote and performed most of the songs but one song in particular called Old Souls which was sung by an actress named Jessica Harper, this song hit that one emotional level that made me believe that true love surpasses this and other lifetimes.

One line in the song says “Our paths have crossed and parted this love affair was started long, long ago.  This love survives the ages in its story lives are pages” now tell me that isn’t good shit?  Because it is, and I believed this was what I had with Lestat the vampire and I wanted so much to believe it was true but of course it is total bullshit.  Love like this may exist but it didn’t for me, not with Lestat because that motherfucker had married his soul mate and was living the life he chose with his 2.5 kids the ranch style house and his emotionally warped, misguided and simple-minded wife.  Meanwhile I was standing on the outside looking in at what I thought I wanted and had somehow convinced myself I only wanted it with him.

This Prince Charming idea was also perpetuated in other ways, not just by what our parents tell us, it is literally every fuckin where!  In movies, particularly romantic movies you see the guy meets girl, guy falls in love with girl, girl loves guy, they get married (and here’s the mythic bullshit) they live happily ever after.  Well ever after isn’t always happy or ever after for that matter if it were then divorce wouldn’t existed.  But again to those who will always find something to say about this situation regarding how a cheater will always be a cheater well, that’s true he will, I will not dispute that.  Case in point, some of the times he and I were apart he also went out and dated (you heard that right, being married AND having an ex-girlfriend he still dated, fucking asshole motherfucker) and he didn’t just date.  No, he hunted close to home, he went out and had affairs with his wife’s friends and co-workers!

Even stooping so low as to fuck around with her best friend, a stupid woman who believes in aliens, conspiracy theories and that immunizations cause all kinds of childhood diseases and autism.  Way to go there Bob, you picked a winner with that one.  And still I took him back, but to be fair I didn’t find out he’d been sleeping with his wives friends until after we got back together.  No it doesn’t make it right but if you haven’t been listening, I WAS IN LOVE AND WASN’T THINKING STRAIGHT!!!  So during one of our heated arguments about him having to go home early because she was “bitching about him working all the time” the argument went in another direction the fact that he had fucked around with four of her “friends.”  Let’s get one thing straight here, she must have rotten friends because if they were charmed by him (remember I had, but by this point I had been in a relationship with him going on twenty years so I’m exempt from this) and didn’t think twice about having sex with him and it not bother them that this was their friends husband, she should have shot those friends. Why am I exempt?  Because I wasn’t friends with the bitch nor did I know her and didn’t want to.  I didn’t have friends that stupid.

Those aren’t friends, real, true friends are like the ones I have.  They would have told me that he was skulking around trying to get them into bed.  How do I know this?  Because it happened and both of the friends he tried to “seduce” told me about it.  I was dating Waldo at the time so I didn’t care too much but they did tell me.  BOTH of them did, hey I never claimed that I had a lot of friends but the very small circle I do have, are not only great friends but they have my back, just like I have theirs!  April and my other friend whom we’ll call Victoria both called to tell me that he was trying very hard to get laid and Victoria had run into him at his favorite bar.  She said he plied her and the friends she was with that night with drinks and food, then when she said she was leaving he followed her out to her car and tried to kiss her.  She told him that she was my friend and that it didn’t matter that I was with someone else, she wasn’t going to lose my friendship over a one night stand and that she knew he was married and he should go home to his wife, but not before she slapped him.

Victoria then called me to tell me what he had tried to do, and I told her that I appreciated her friendship and even if I wasn’t dating him she did the right thing.  April did the same, she told me he went to the bar where she worked and after buying her drinks (because apparently a bartender can drink on the job, huh, I wish my job was like that) and when she took her break made his move on her, and she not only told him to fuck off but she slapped him too.  Way to go April! So then she called me that night to tell me what had happened and I told her the same thing I told Victoria, and I went to sleep assured that my friends were true and devoted.  But that brings me back to my point about Fiona’s friends and how really lousy they are at being her “friends.”  Pan back to our argument (you know pan, like in the movies?) I told him he was the lowest of the low if he thought it was okay to fuck around with his stupid wife’s friends.

I reminded him that my friends didn’t allow it and then I repeated a line from another of my favorite movies, Moonstruck, where Olympia Dukakis tells John Mahoney while their eating dinner at Il Grand Ticino together, she say’s “don’t shit where you eat.”  Which makes TOTAL sense, and a mantra that I’ve stuck to since the realization of what that line meant.  Lestat looked at me and it seemed that he didn’t quite understand what I meant, so I had to explain it to him.  Telling him that fucking around with his wife’s friends was a disaster waiting to happened because in a moment of weakness or guilt they could just tell her what he did.  Not that it would make any difference because after twenty years of her husband having an affair and she still hadn’t found out, I mean how smart can this broad be, really?

But it was the principle of the thing, if you’re going to fuck around do it with women that don’t hang around or work with your wife.  Even thieves have some sort of code of ethics right?  If they didn’t then the line honor among thieves wouldn’t exist, which Wikipedia explains as even criminals can possess some sort of form of honor, justice or moral code (Wikipedia, 2018).  So why can’t an adulterer adhere to the same concept, don’t fuck your wife’s friends or it’s going to come back and bite you in the ass!  By this point in my life I began to wake up from the fog that was the Relational Stockholm syndrome, because I had learned to do things on my own I became self-sufficient and independent.  All those years of wishing, wanting and waiting for Lestat to jump into action to help me or hell even compensate me for everything I’d done and gone through for him (which was a lot, and not just boyfriend/girlfriend type shit either) being his part time secretary, his confidant, his best friend, his advisor, his psychologist and even a pseudo wife without all the perks (for me that is).  It was clear that he had Miyagied me and he didn’t even realize that he was doing it.  For the record neither did I, but you get the picture.  MIYAGIED, you know from the movie the Karate Kid (I told you I watched a lot of movies) when Mr. Miyagi tells Daniel that he has to paint the fence, clean the yard, wax on, wax off his old truck…..ring a bell?

The wax-on, wax-off in this case was all those financial lessons that Lesat thought I needed to learn, how to do things on my own like replace the mini-blinds in my rental home, to be able to patch a hole in the wall and budget my money so I didn’t have to live paycheck to paycheck and have my utilities turned off.  The motherfucker had Miyagied me and I began to realize that maybe what I had felt the last five years of this relationship with Lestat the Emotional Sucking Vampire wasn’t love, but instead I was used to his presence and both our lives went on in this very dysfunctional manner.  For twenty years we went through so much with each other, parent’s dying (his not mine) children growing up, accomplishments, setbacks, health issues, and ultimately growing together and growing apart.  And even though, still no real commitment from him what so ever.

The fucker owned (owns) a construction company, I think after everything he put me through the very least (I mean very, very least) he could have done was bought me or build me a house?  Yes, I realize that sounds very selfish and self-serving, but after twenty years of trying to break away from him, and him coming back and leaving again.  I think that all the emotional anguish and indecision, with the resources he had, it would have been pocket change for him.  I am not a gold digger, I am not self-serving (if that were the case I would have found someone else that would provide me with material things a long time ago) I was not with him for his money or status or any other reason than for the pure (okay maybe not pure) love I felt for this very selfish and narcissistic man.  I fell in love with the wrong guy, he was extremely good looking (meh, he lost his charm and looks when he decided to let himself go, yes I know that sounds chauvinistic but if men can think this way, why can’t women? Just sayin’) smart, successful and very business savvy.  I fell in love with him because he was everything every man I had met previously was not.  Of course that changed when he decided to go back to the wife he had sworn to me he would divorce and he became a coward because of his indecisive nature and sheer bullshit personality.   But on my end, my education and self-awareness was beginning to take hold thanks to the Karate Kid and the fact that I was beginning to tire of Lestat the middle-aged emotional vampire and the “Same Old Song and Dance” (Aerosmith).  There was also this nagging feeling that I had about him, but I really couldn’t put my finger on it per-say.  But I finally figured out I was outgrowing him, his ideas, opinions and especially his sense of sexual adventurism.  Stay tuned for part 13…..


Part 11…….The Vampire Returnith……AGAIN

“Be careful what you do to a good woman, because you will have to deal with the bitch you create” – Unknown

Remember when Lestat said if I took him back he was going to change?  Yeah, that never happened, but then again looking back now I should have known it wouldn’t because he got what he wanted, he got me back and got to stay married.  So why should he live up to what he had said?  The thing is I never made him, he also constantly told me that he never promised me anything, and he sure as hell lived up to that, the not promising me anything I mean.  What did happen was that I kept evolving into a more headstrong independent woman, who was beginning to need him or should I say want him less and less.  But I wasn’t ready to leave him just yet, no I had to put myself through more heartache and vampirically emotional bloodletting by Lestat the married vampire.  He kept draining my emotions and his strength grew with every puncture of my self-esteem and self-confidence, it’s what a vampire does, they drain you little by little trying to turn you, or kill you.  I mean if you let them kill you that is.

There is no justifying behavior like Lestat’s because he had gotten his way for as long as I can remember, and before I met him that’s for sure.  When we think of being in love we think it’s like in the movies.  We find “the” one and then we begin a relationship, we “fall” in love and then one of two things happens, they fall in love as well or we fall in love alone.  When you fall in love alone it’s the most devastating type of love.  Because the one’s we love don’t and will not love us back no matter how hard we try or what we do to try and convince them of how much we love them.  We continue to think love is what Hollywood wants us to think is it, or how a song can express just how much “love” is good and eventually we all experience this.  But love isn’t like the movies or what we hear on the radio.  Everyone and I do mean EVERYONE wants to be that movie or song to the person there in love with.  Just like I wanted to be Meg Ryan in “You’ve Got Mail” to Lestat’s Tom Hanks or to be “the” song to him.  Like a beautiful song by the group Shenandoah called “I Want to Be Loved Like That.”  In my mind it is (maybe was) the epitome of what I wanted Lestat to feel about me, because I sure as hell felt this about him.  The first two verses of that song go….

Natalie Wood gave her heart to James Dean

High school rebel and a beauty queen

Standing together in an angry world

One boy fighting for one girl

I want to be loved like that

I want to be loved like that

A promise, you can’t take back

If you’re gonna love me

I want to be loved like that

Of course I’ve never been loved like that, and even though as I mentioned before I did love Lestat like that, he always told me he didn’t know how to express himself to me the way I did to him.  But of course I know that’s a lie because he can, he just won’t and maybe it’s because he has never loved me “like that.”   Which would make me question why he’d always, and I do mean ALWAYS come looking for me after every single breakup.  I always walked away and he always came back.  The longest relationship rehab went on for almost a year, can you believe that?  I was away from him for ten entire months, I ignored him passing by on my way to work.  I had blocked him from my phone but because he had cell phones for his construction company he’d use those at times to send me texts.  I walked away all the time and he always came back.  I have yet to figure this out if he said he loved me but yet tortured me to no end, and I’d leave and he would almost always beg to let him back into my life.  I think that everyone deserves to be loved that way.  A love so strong that it can push both of you through anything because love is what kept you from going insane and gave you the strength to hold on, not just for yourself but for each other.  The closest I’ve come to that kind of feeling (besides Lestat) was when a new bakery opened up near my house. It’s called Nothing Bundt Cakes and I fell in love with their white chocolate raspberry Bundt, true story.

As a result of the day to day routine in my dysfunctional relationship with Lestat I grew to get use to certain things about him.  For instance when he had to be home by a certain time, or he couldn’t see me on certain days, and for a while I tolerated this routine.  Okay I wasn’t okay with it, it was frustrating and annoying as hell but again, I believed that Lestat the Vampire would turn into Prince Charming, that guy I had been waiting for all my life.  I didn’t voice my discontent, I mean I didn’t voice it very often.  Alright that’s a lie I told him toward the tail end of our relationship that it was pissing me off that he wasn’t making up his mind.  I know that you’re wondering how the hell he was still married, after I had mentioned that when I met him he was separated and getting a divorce, right?

So let me elaborate, when I met him he was separated and in the process of getting a divorce and if you remember his wife was pregnant with their second child, a child they planned on having so their son wouldn’t grow up alone.  This bothers me, I mean I know that it was a conscience decision to have another child, and that it was done so that their son would have a sibling.  But think about it, when this girl grows up and she may or may not know that she was planned which is okay, I suppose.  But I know it would bother me to know that I was planned for the sole reason of making sure that my brother had a sibling and wouldn’t grow up an only child.  It’s disturbing to know that your existence was planned as a companion for your brother.  It’s like she’ll be a FrankenSister or something like that (not to mention she looks like Gossamer from the Looney Tunes Cartoons).   Okay it’s probably just me but I suppose it made sense to them at the time.

Their intention (or at least that’s what he) was for them to agree to have another child for the sake of their son and divorce because they were unhappy together.  Again this is intel I got from him, you know Lestat the Vampire.  But then it’s not like he’s the best source of reliable information, I learned that the hard way.  So when he explained his situation I accepted it because he did tell me (many times) that he wasn’t happy and that they had mutually agreed to do what they had planned.  So what happened along the way you ask?  Life took a huge steaming dump on my plans that’s what happened.  After almost a year and a half of dating Lestat (that’s how long we were together prior to his backtracking) he asked me out to lunch.  During our lunch date he was unusually quiet which is not like him at all, then he took my hand and said to me “I need to tell you something, and I don’t know how I’m going to do it” I thought to myself oh my God he has a terminal illness.  Yes that’s what I thought because he was so serious and straight-faced I had no idea of the emotional bomb he was about to drop on me.

I put my hand on his and looked at him asking if he was alright, and tightened my grip on his and then he looked up at me and said “I’m moving back home, I’m going back to live with Fiona because I want to be a part of my kids’ lives and that’s the only way it’s going to happen.”  I couldn’t move, I was frozen in place with my hand on his, I could see that his face was beginning to flinch and my grip was getting tighter and tighter and I realized I was digging my nails into the top of his hand, he finally pulled away and I had drawn a small amount of blood from one of my nails that punctured the top of his wrist.  Funny, I drew blood from the vampire and vampires don’t like that, they hate it when you turn the tables on them.  He looked at me and asked “are you alright?” I stared out of the window where we were sitting, I suddenly realized that the noise around me had stopped.  I had gone deaf, I heard nothing but the ringing in my ears and the pounding of heart, or should I say the breaking of my heart.  I heard myself swallow hard and turned to look at him.

He asked again if I was alright and I turned to him and yelled “does it fucking look like I’m alright?  You asshole, how could you do this to me, you said you were getting a divorce and I never once question why it was taking so fucking long.  And now you tell me you’re going back to your wife, and you do it in public no less you asshole chicken-shit!!!!!”  He asked me to keep my voice down and I said would not, I told him that if he wanted to keep me from making a scene he should have told me in private.  But I think it was his best defense because I am, after all Latina and my first reaction was to take a hard right to his face and then go out into the parking lot and take a baseball bat to the windshield of his truck and an ice pick to each of his tires.  That’s what I should have done (I might have as I did have a baseball bat in the trunk of my car…..and an ice pick, don’t judge) but what I did was get up and walk out of the restaurant.  I walked towards the middle of the parking lot realizing that I didn’t have my car with me because Lestat had picked me up at work.  I felt what seemed to be rivers of tears falling from my eyes and then I couldn’t hold back anymore.

I screamed as loud as I could, it was the only release that I had at that moment, my screams and crying were uncontrollable.  I felt a hand on my shoulder and I turned around and it was Lestat.  He told me to get into his truck and I screamed at him that I’d rather walk the five miles back to my office rather than get into a vehicle with a fucking liar.  I began to walk down the street, not really knowing where I was going with tears streaming down my face as I dug through my purse for my cell phone.  I was thinking of who I could call for a ride, I called my friend April the bartender.  She didn’t hesitate the minute she heard me crying she only asked what part of town I was at and she gave me a destination near to where I was to wait for her.  I waited for what seemed hours but in reality it was only fifteen minutes before she got to where I was at.

As I got into her car she asked me to tell her what happened, and I proceeded to tell her what had transpired during lunch.  “That asshole! That fucking asshole!” she screamed and drove straight to Robert’s office running every red light she came across.  By the time we got there his truck was already in the parking lot.  She looked at me and then popped the trunk on her 1996 Honda Civic.  She put it in park and got out, I heard her screaming his name as she was riffling through her trunk.  I had no idea what she was doing back there and then low and behold I saw her with the baseball bat in her hands and instead of stopping her, I let her go on her rampage of bestfriendedness (spell check says that’s not a word, I think it should be so therefore it is, BESTFRIENDEDNESS!!) and sat back in her car and let her go after his truck.  She began with his side mirror and then his doors, then the windshield and by this time his brother came running out and then yelled at her. All I heard was mumble, mumble “your crazy bitch!” did I mention April is a white chick?

I couldn’t really hear what they were saying to each other but then Lestat came out of his office and since he knew who she was he knew what she was doing and why.  Oddly enough he didn’t act angry or called the cops, which I found weird because, did he anticipate this might happen?  She said something to him (I could see her mouth every obscenity his way as she held onto that wooden baseball bat in her Hello Kitty pajama bottoms and Nike running shoes, her hair tied into a messy bun on top of her head).  He seemed to ignore her as he walked over to me and opened the passenger side door to her car and knelt down and said “I’m sorry, I love you really I do” and I turned around to him and didn’t say anything. I just sat there as if every part of my being was being pummeled by every single emotion at the news he had given me over lunch.  Everything from the past hour was a blur, nothing made sense and my head was swimming in a cloud of confusion and heartbreak.  That night I didn’t sleep, probably because he kept calling me and I didn’t answer.  I had resolved that night to not see him ever again because he had decided to go back to his wife that he hadn’t yet divorced.  But during this year and a half of waiting for him to “finalize” his divorce I didn’t push or ask too much about it because I didn’t want to seem, well pushy or needy or a bitch.

Yes I know that you think it was stupid of me and it was but there was an end game here, a return on investment if you will, well when I believed he was actually going to get a divorce.  After his imaginary divorce was complete he and I would begin to build our lives together and that is was I was looking forward to, I had pictured the end of the rainbow with him, for him to be my Prince Charming.   But that night all of that went up in smoke, the ashes from what I thought was left of my relationship with him were smoldering underneath me, slowly burning there, silent but painfully.  After what seemed like hours of darkness both physical and emotional I had to get up and go to work, with my face swollen from crying and no sleep I looked like hammered shit.  But I soldiered on and got ready and headed out to work resolving to pick up the pieces of the shattered life I had known for over almost two years.  That day I kept getting call after call from him on my cell and at work, and I not once answered (I was very proud at my resolve).

I stayed strong for about three weeks after, even though the sting of rejection was still fresh like an open gaping wound that wouldn’t heal, but I had decided to dull the pain with work, coffee and nicotine.  This was 2002, I worked for a fire alarm company and I was alone most of the day when the all the installation technicians would leave for their scheduled calls.  Which was a much needed reprieve from putting on a smile and going through the motions of my day for the sake of my job.  But the minute they left I fell apart, I didn’t cry out loud by I sure as hell had a hard time keeping the tears in, as I sat there staring out of my office plate glass window wiping the tears away with tattered tissues that seemed to pile into my trash can like the snow caps of Mt. Everest.  Three weeks eventually passed and each day the hurt got worse but my resolve was getting stronger.  And then it happened, the motherfucker decided to show up at my office, and I was NOT prepared to deal with him or his emotional ambush. He knew that for most of the day I was alone, and just like Lucy Westenra in Bram Stokers Dracula, I was a goner.

He knew what the fuck he was doing since I hadn’t answered his phone calls for three weeks (this was before blocking a number was available on your cell phone) he had no other option but to physically and emotionally ambush me at work.  I saw his truck drive up and thought to myself this motherfucker has some balls.  But my heart was telling me, oh my God he’s here and he wants to talk to you because he loves you!  I wish I could’ve shut my heart up because the rest of me always winds up listing to it, well, all except my brain because that’s the one that is logical and says to me “don’t listen to this lying asshole, no matter how charming he seems or what he tells you he’s just trying to get his way.”  And she was right, my brain I mean, that motherfucker came over only to tell me he missed me and that he still loved me in spite of the fact that he had moved back in with Fiona.

I should have stayed strong but the truth is my heart convinced the rest of me, including my logical brain whom I’ll call Sharleen (why not? She’s my brain after all) to give into him….again.  It was hard to resist his allure and bullshit covered in charm and Halston cologne.  The day he showed up at my office I was at probably what I would consider one of the weakest days of my life, and it showed.  Because my office had an extremely large plate glass window and the parking for our company was literally right in front, anyone parked in front could see inward, it was like shooting fish in a barrel.  He saw me in this state, which was, let’s face it obvious.  In true vampiric fashion he sat in white Ford F-150 flossing and sharpened his fangs, sprayed on his Halston Z-14, popped the collar on his black cape and walked towards the entrance to my office in that slow motion walk that always happens in the movies.  The wind slowly blowing through his cape revealing the red satin underside, gently whisking that dark muddy river hair of his, strutting his 6’1 frame towards the door, his erotic dimpled smile showing his fangs shinning in the sunlight as he was about to take another bite out of my heart, emotions and life.

Okay it sounds stupid and yes I watch a lot of movies but this is how I saw it happen, the entire vampire, slow motion walking, cape flapping, smiling shiny fang thing! (Just a quick note, emotional vampires can and are able to be out in the sunlight, it’s in the darkness that they have issues with).  In reality he was wearing Wrangler jeans, his cowboy boots and a dark maroon colored button down long sleeve shirt.  He looked like John Travolta in Urban Cowboy, when he first shaved his beard and we catch the first glimpse of that handsome face of his in his black Stetson.

I sat there wearing my jeans, boots and company polo shirt, hair tied on top of my head in a messy pony tail with little to no make-up.  My defenses were down and I couldn’t go into battle knowing I was about to be taken down by Lestat the Emotional Vampire hunting for sport, because I had no strength to fight him off whatsoever. And true to form, he walked into my office and with every step he took towards me I took another back.  His facial expression changed as if he noticed that I didn’t trust him anymore, which of course was right.  He asked me if there was any one else in the office and I stood there in silence and he said to me “It’s me, its okay, are you alone?”  As he was talking my eyes slowly glanced over through the big plate glass window to see the damage that my friend April had done to his new truck.  I looked at the dents on the doors and he had replaced the windshield but the side mirror on the passenger side was being held together with black electrical tape.  I could hear him talking to me but it sounded muffled because it felt as if I had gone deaf once again.

Then all at once I snapped out of it and managed to say “what the fuck do you want?”  He stepped back and the lingering scent of his cologne wafted through my office and my heart.  He said he was there because I gave him no choice since I hadn’t answered any of his phone calls.  I mentioned that was for a reason, I mean what the fuck did he think I was doing?  Really, ugh!

Then I told him that I didn’t want to talk that I wanted him to leave (this was Sharleen talking and she was awesome!) That is until he said those three magic words…….I…..love…. you and then everything went to shit.  My heart took over and managed to muffle Sharleen and I felt as if I couldn’t breathe so I sat down in my chair.  He walked over to me and took both my hands to bring me up towards him and then he hugged me and whispered in my ear “I’m so sorry, I love you so much and I don’t want to lose you.  I can’t live without you, please don’t send me away.”

As he held me in his arms, my eyes closed tight listening to these words coming out of his vampiric mouth, smelling his cologne and feeling the tightening squeeze of his arms wrapped around me (like a motherfucking anaconda right before it eats its prey).  I pushed him away and asked him how the fuck could he ask me NOT to send him away if he was still married AND had moved back in with his ugly wife Fiona?  He said he did it for his kids, and that he is living there with her and the kids but he loved me.  Of course in retrospect this was complete and utter bullshit because that’s what vampires do, they charm you, they hypnotize you and then BAM they suck your will to live or make rational decisions.

Needless to say I took him back even though he had moved back in with his ugly, fat horse faced wife and I told myself that I could deal with this.  I told myself that I could be a mistress to the man I believed I loved in order to be with him and that’s when he made that statement “when they are grown and out of high school we can be together.” Inside I was like, what the fuck? High school? Their daughter is all of a year old (at the time) and I have to wait until she graduates from high school, this assholes crazy! Of course this was an empty promise because after all he had spent the rest of our relationship telling me he hadn’t promised me anything OR that he wouldn’t fight for me.

Now, once again I need to stress that those who will feel the need to judge me based on the decisions I made to stay with him and be his mistress, this did NOT start out this way.  I sort of fell into it, like a ginormous puddle of quicksand I didn’t see while running through a vine ridden jungle of emotions.  And that Charming dude and his white horse whom we’ll call Carlos (I had to throw in one Hispanic name right?) could have shown up to save me but they didn’t.  But the pious and self-righteous will always judge, so to those I say, judge away I’m sure someone’s out there judging you even if you don’t think it’s happening to you, it is, you’re just blind to it or actually believe you haven’t done ANYTHING wrong in your entire life.  Go ahead, keep thinking that but me, Sharleen and Carlos the white horse know better.  In any case this was why and how I found myself dating a married man for twenty years of my life.  Needless to say as I got older and wiser I realized that the window of opportunity was getting smaller for me to find a “real” boyfriend to date and have a potentially healthy relationship.  Stay tuned for part 12…..


Part 10……..Sometimes Your Knight in Shining Armor is an idiot in Tin Foil – Unknown

At times some of us are so convinced that the man or woman we’re in love with is “the” one.  Even when they treat us bad or take us for granted and put us through hell and we have to walk our way back through the fire in order to realize, what is it that we see in them?  Love should not hurt, love should not make us second guess ourselves. Ideally love should be two people putting in the same amount of effort, the same give and take not one giving more than the other.  In 2007 I was working at UTEP in the department of Engineering and I wasn’t making nearly enough to cover having to support three boys, while going to school full time as well.  In spite of this I had finally moved out of my parents’ house and rented a home on the far eastside of El Paso.  At the time I was juggling paying bills, a car payment and rent.  I found myself deciding which bill could wait and which one needed to be paid right away.

Then one Thursday afternoon, as luck would have it, my electricity got turned off because I hadn’t paid the bill (that was overdue).  I barely had enough money to make ends meet, cover rent, utilities, food, clothes for two boys (my oldest had graduated and was working and living on his own) and my car and insurance payment.  That day he came over and instead of listening to me about what had happened with the electricity, he got angry at me for being so financially irresponsible.  He asked me how much my bill was so they could turn it back on, I told him it was $72 dollars and then he said had to go home and he left.

Yes the motherfucker left and me and my thirteen year old son slept on an inflatable mattress outside that night under the back porch because it was too hot inside, after all it WAS THE MIDDLE OF AUGUST IN HELL PASO, that night it hit a cool 97 degrees!  This was one of those times that I thought it was obvious that I might need a little help, you know because I was his girlfriend of fifteen years (the one that didn’t demand any financial support whatsoever).  I didn’t go to work that Friday because someone had to be there when the utility company went to go turn on the power.  The first thing that morning he called to ask how I was doing (which was a stupid thing to ask, really).  I said I was fine, and he told me he was on his way to give me the money to pay my electric bill.  That’s when I told him I didn’t need it because I had borrowed the money from one of my friends the night before (who offered to put me in a hotel for the night but I politely declined) but the electric company couldn’t come by until the next day to turn the power back on.  That’s when Lestat mentioned that he couldn’t sleep the night before because he was “worried about me” being at my house without any electricity.  I thought to myself, exactly how much did you really worry about me that night?  How much could you worry about me while in your 2200 square foot, refrigerated home, comfortably asleep?

The motherfucker could have given me the $72 dollars that day, it wasn’t going to break him, but yet he left me and went home and supposedly couldn’t sleep that night.  He spent more on eating out every single day in one week but he couldn’t help out his girlfriend who he claimed to love?  And who knows, maybe it was the guilt that didn’t allow him to sleep, the guilt of not being a kind human being to the woman he’d been in a relationship for fifteen years.  Or then again, maybe he was lying because we know now he’s a fucking liar.  It wasn’t until years later that he mentioned that he was trying to teach me a lesson and we proceeded to have a huge fight about that particular day.

Helping me should have been second nature to him because he said he loved me (something he kept saying over the course of fifteen years).  I do know one thing, I would have helped him had he needed it, unconditionally no questions asked, no lessons that needed teaching, no trying to make my point, only helping the man I loved.  But he had to make his point, he felt the overwhelming need to teach me that lesson that he believed I needed to learn at one of the very worsts times in my life.  Then I thought to myself, why the fuck should I be the one needing to learn this particular lesson?  Why in the hell doesn’t he teach these so-called “lessons” to the woman that actually NEEDS them?

I’m talking about his wife of course because after all she’s probably the one woman who can’t handle any kind of fiscal responsibilities whatsoever but since he got her use to him doing everything for her, she doesn’t have to learn these types of moral or financial lessons.  The bitch doesn’t know how much a gallon of gas or milk costs.  She also doesn’t need to calculate the exact amount of money in order to buy groceries or budget each month to pay every utility bill.  I suppose when you’re married to an obsessive-compulsive, passive-aggressive emotional vampire, one doesn’t need to do anything but let the control freak do everything for you.  That’s why he goes out and buys cars and shit without her input, because she can’t think for herself and never will because he does it for her and a stupid woman is okay with that I suppose.

As I had mentioned before we broke up and got back together many, many times.  And once again I had had enough of his issues and indecisive nature, so I left him (yes again).  I began to date someone who, come to think about he mirrored my ex-husband in many ways (what was I thinking?).  This man, whom I’ll call Jeff for the purposes of this story was actually once married to my ex-husbands first cousin.  We use to hang out together and our kids played with each other, I mean after all we were family.  We ran into each other one day at the Walmart and we talked for over an hour in the frozen food section, he told me his wife left him and I told him I was divorced as well, so he asked me out and I said yes.  We began to date and I thought to myself that this guy might be a serious relationship, not that I knew what that was after dealing with Lestat.  And he was still there in the shadows, whispering to me every so often but this time I had a distraction that allowed me to ignore him and he sure as hell didn’t like that.  Emotional vampires need to be the center of attention, especially the center of “your” life for them to keep going.  Jeff and I dated for four months, and since my boys knew him they were okay with it I suppose, they never voiced their discontent with Jeff, not like they did with Waldo, they hated him.

I was happy for a short time (a very short time) that is of course until Jeff’s overbearing attempts at our relationship began to get on my nerves.  Jeff wasn’t from El Paso he was actually from Indiana, born and raised (yes he’s white, I mean if you couldn’t have guessed by his name) and he came to El Paso because he was stationed at Fort Bliss while in the Army.  That’s when he met his future ex-wife, my ex-husbands first cousin (stay with me here) and they got married and had two kids.  Jeff began to display signs of insecurity and neediness and that was something I tried to ignore because I actively would tell myself that I had to forget about Lestat and move on.  I came to realize that Jeff had issues of his own, I mean who doesn’t right? But some issues are stronger than others.  For instance, neediness and clinginess that shit is annoying as fuck.  That’s probably because I began to find my independence and I couldn’t take those horrible traits in anyone, let alone a man I was dating.

I had enough of that shit with Waldo and I HATE being suffocated in those ways, okay I hate being suffocated in every way.  Sure I could have tried to deal with that but when a man wants to follow you like a shadow on the ground (thanks Trisha Yearwood for that line) it can and will get annoying.  He spent every waking hour with me, I mean when he didn’t have to work of course, I would turn around and *bam* there he’d be just looking at me.  One day I got out of the shower because we were going to go to the movies, and *bam* there he was sitting on the toilet waiting for me to get out of the shower, and he wasn’t even at my house when I got in the shower!  This was very unsettling and I made sure he knew it, but did that stop him?  Nope, if I spent the night at his house, I’d wake up and find him just staring at me.  One night I actually got up at 1:43am to find him intently staring at me, I got my overnight bag together and drove home in pure frustration.  But not before the mofo said “Great idea hun, I’ll go with you” to which I had to say “Oh hell no, I need to sleep so you’re staying here and DON’T FOLLOW ME!”  Yes it sounds cruel and uncaring but I was like what the fuck is wrong with this guy?

I also realize that every man is different and I had to learn to accept them for whom they were, NOT compare them to the gauge that was Lestat.  I really did, I use to stand in front of my bathroom mirror and say to myself “He’s a nice guy, he’s a nice guy. It doesn’t matter that he’s here all the time and that his idea of a dinner is frozen deer from meat from last hunting season on the grill. Or that when he calls to wake me up at 5:45am on a Sunday morning and ask if I’d like some coffee when the fucker is already at my front door with a thermos of coffee he brought from home, he’s a good guy, he’s a good guy.”

During this time with Jeff, Lestat began to realize he was losing his emotional and physical grip on me and his attempts at relationship recovery became more and more desperate.  Which I had ignored until one day he called me out of the blue, we began to talk because he said to me that being able to just talk to me was enough for him.  I made the mistake of allowing him backing with just a “talking” type of friendship (big mistake).  That day he asked me what I was doing and I said I hadn’t felt very good that morning and decided to stay home from work.  He said “You’re at home? Really? Do you need anything?  I can take you medicine or something to eat if you’re not feeling well.”  I laughed because I knew he was trying really hard, and I said that I was okay and that I had to go because I was going to go back to sleep.  He said okay and then we hung up, I got up from my couch and as I walked to my bedroom my doorbell rang.  For those of you who guessed, it was him, Lestat the Emotional Vampire.

I went to the door and looked through the peephole and reluctantly opened the door.  He stood there with two cups of coffee from McDonalds (sound familiar?) and I said to him “what are you doing here?  You know you can’t be here and I didn’t invite you.”  I have to say that’s when I noticed that he didn’t particularly look all that well.  He looked disheveled, he had a t-shirt with white paint on it and he looked like hadn’t shaved in days.  He looked at me with what looked like tears welling up in his eyes and he begged me to let him in.  So stupidly I did, and we sat in my living room in silence for the first ten minutes, just drinking our coffee.  I finally asked him what he wanted, and he put his cup of coffee on the end table.  He walked to the chair I was sitting in and knelt beside me, took my hand in his and put it to his chest as he looked at me and said “I need you, I miss you so much please don’t cut me out of your life.  I love you so much and knowing you’re with another man is killing me.  I want you back, I promise I’ll change, please give me a chance, please I’m begging you.  I will never take you for granted again.”

At that very moment, the inner me was jumping up and down for joy, I mean what woman doesn’t want to hear that from any man?  Or for that matter what man doesn’t want to hear that from a woman?  We all do, we all want to know that we’re wanted and loved and that the person we want, wants us in return.  As the inner me rejoiced, the outer me struggled to stay stone faced and emotionless all the while Lestat was bearing his heart to me.  He took my hand and kissed it as tears fell down his cheeks.  He quickly got up and hurried out the back door of my house.  I rushed after him (because I was like what the fuck just happened?) and saw him pacing back and forth frantically looking like he was gasping for air.  He came up to me and said he felt claustrophobic and felt like he couldn’t breathe and took my face in his rough hands and asked me again to take him back.

I hesitated of course because after all I had already had a boyfriend and it wasn’t fair to him to just drop Jeff and go back to Lestat.  I told him I couldn’t, and he knelt down on the back porch concrete and asked me again (a mock wedding proposal?  No just arrogance on his part at what he thought I wanted to see and hear).  And again I told him no, he got up and said he understood but I suspect he didn’t.  After another hour of him being there he left and I still felt sick and went to bed.  That afternoon Jeff showed up with dinner from some hole in the wall restaurant off of Montana somewhere, just as I was falling into a deep sleep.  I was to say the least annoyed, but I didn’t say or show it, so tired, sick and sleepy I sat at the table with my boyfriend from Indiana and ate dinner, listening to him talk and talk. Did I mention Jeff spoke with a faux southern accent which somehow seemed to annoy me under the skin, because the mofo was from Indiana, how the fuck did he wind up talking like Scarlett O’Hara?!?!

I could see this relationship was doomed, it was already on the horizon right before the supernova of disastrous relationships implosions happen.  It was just a matter of when and where.  During my relationship with Jeff I kept in contact with Lestat (yes I know this was bad and probably contributed to the demise of my relationship with Jeff) and we talked and even met a couple of times for lunch.  It was innocent, I mean except all the times he tried to kiss or feel me up.  Which I resisted and that was no small feat because I was still very, very attracted to him.  One day our after work ice cream turned into sex at his office, again it was the strong attraction I felt, stupid yes, very, very stupid.  But none the less I felt bad because I had a boyfriend, but my fading feelings for Jeff changed one day when we went out to look for a bottle of wine for one of my friend’s housewarming party.

That night I had made him dinner, beef bourgeon and it was DELICIOUS if I do say so myself.  Afterwards we went to World Market to go find that bottle of wine, and we, for the most part, were having a good time.  My youngest son was with us and we made our way oohing and aahing through the store and taking our time.  During all of this I could see Jeff becoming antsy, nervous almost as he would walk away from us and then walk back and begin talking to us and picking up snacks and stuff to put in our basket.  While in the wine section I was looking at all of the different brands and trying to pick out a bottle as unique as my friend.  When all of a sudden Jeff walked up to me and said, in his annoying false southern accent, “we need to leave, I have gas” I stepped back looking at him and trying to process this request and that’s when I realized what he was doing when he was walking away from us and back again.  It was because he was going far from us to fart!

Yes, you heard that right, this Indiana wannabe hillbilly was farting in the fucking World Market, and around other people no less!  Then he looked at me and walked towards the doors that go to the back of the store where only employees are allowed and this time I heard it.  I heard the nasty noise coming out of this idiot’s ass.  He walked back towards me all the while I’m standing there with a bottle of Woodbridge Cabernet Sauvignon in my hand watching him come back toward me and wondering what the FUCK am I doing with this guy?!?!?  I tried not to drop the bottle because all I felt was sheer rage and disgust at this man’s actions in public.   As he got closer I finally noticed it, he wasn’t anyone I should be dating.  The last remnants of relationship newness was gone *poof* disappeared in a cloud of his gastronomical antics! As if a veil was lifted from my eyes I noticed he was dressed in tattered khaki cargo shorts that were stained in the front.  A dark green t-shirt that had an old beer logo on it with a torn collar and stained from the dinner that we had had a few hours before and a backwards baseball cap on his balding head.  And to top it all off he was burping out loud.  BURPING OUT LOUD FOR FUCKS SAKE!!!

All the while moving a toothpick through his mouth, back and forth from one side to another, sucking on it like it still had remnants from dinner.  Then one of the workers came out from that back and as he stood there at the swinging doors, where this idiot had farted, probably trying to figure out what the fuck that rank smell was.  I put the wine back on the shelf, left my cart, called to my son and told him we were leaving and proceeded to walk out of the store.  Jeff followed me and kept saying in his annoying southern accent “honey, you not gon’ git the wine for yur frien?”  As I made my way thought the parking lot toward his truck holding my son’s hand and tugging him hard, I turned to say “just take me home, I don’t want to talk to you right now, take me home, NOW!”  He said “K, k what’s got yur panties in a twist?”  I thought I should stay quiet because my son was with me and I tried, believe me I fucking tried.  But he kept talking even after I told him to be quiet because I had a headache and I didn’t feel well.

Did the fucker listen?  No, the motherfucker kept going on and on about why I was “actin’” like that and “he was gonna git the switch on my bottom” and finally at the stop light at George Dieter and Vista Del Sol I yelled out at him to shut the fuck up and that I thought he was a disgusting person.  That his sucking on a fucking toothpick for more than two hours was horribly immature and a dirty habit not to mention farting in public, but he wouldn’t know that since he had no regard for other people in public for him to do it so blatantly.  My son who was only thirteen and began to laugh and it seemed to add to the embarrassment it seemed he felt at my description of his shortcomings. As we drove up to my house he began to get out of his truck and I stopped him to say that I didn’t want him to come in.  I told my son to get out of the truck and go inside while I told Jeff that I wasn’t interested in seeing him anymore.

I didn’t let him answer me and closed the door to his truck, which by the way was covered top to bottom with fucking dog hair which was gross, and walked into my house.  As I turned to close the front door I saw him sitting in his truck staring at me and then my phone rang, it was him!  I was like what the fuck?!?!  I didn’t answer it, just sent it to voicemail and I went to my bedroom and stripped naked and got into the shower as if it was going to cleanse me from the four month experience with Jeff the Indiana hillbilly and his incredible rectal percussion.  He kept calling me after that but I never answered, the following week Lestat was back in my life and on a Sunday morning as we were having coffee together, Jeff came by.  That’s right he came by with a trailer hitched to his truck to pick up the patio set and grill he bought me for Mother’s Day.  Many would say he had the right to do so but in my mind it was a fucking gift and I should have told him to get the fuck out of my yard.  But I didn’t, I let him take my “gift” back all the while Lestat’s Corvette sat in the drive way which I’m sure was like rubbing salt in the wound in Jeff’s heart (okay that’s just an assumption, I don’t know how he felt about me but oh well).  I never talked to him again and I found myself reconciled with Lestat and so resumed our dysfunctional relationship.  Stay tuned for part eleven…..


The Blues of the Blue

Today was the sixteenth year that the University of Michigan met with their rivals from that university down south in the rivalry game that even other colleges call “the game.” Today marked another year Michigan hasn’t won in the “shoe.”  A university that shall remain nameless due to my disdain of their entire collegiate existence, has yet again put the kibosh on the Wolverines football program.  The University of Michigan went into this game with a somewhat glorious record, beating all but one of their opponents this year, as did those “nut jobs” from Ohio.  Only their record was a bit more lucrative since they have been on top of their game for the last seven years or so, or since Urban Meyer has been their coach but I don’t keep track of such things since I don’t care for the nut jobs from down south.

The Ohio “Nut Jobs” lost to their opponents the Purdue Boilermakers on October 20th in a game that resulted in a 49-20 thrashing that was the equivalent to a college football noogey.   Wolverine fans will tell you we also were less than stellar in the game against our opponents Notre Dame resulting in a loss of 24-17.  But we blew past “little brother” Michigan State with a 21-7 win, which lets face it was a long time coming.  But Michigan supporters wait and hope that every year when the “big” game comes along this will be “the” year the dry spell against those nut jobs from down south will end.  But sadly it hasn’t, it was a bitter pill to swallow watching all the mistakes being made by the offensive line as well as some on the defense.  As I watched the game and scrolling through social media many diehard Michigan fans were verbalizing that Urban Meyer should just have an aneurysm on the sidelines and be done with it.  This has to do with the fact that he has a cyst on his brain that cause him severe, stress induced headaches.

Once again being a huge Wolverine fan I got caught up in the feverish fandom spectacle that is fueled by hatred from both sides of this one hundred and twenty one year rivalry.  That’s right, that’s how long this battle between these two universities has been going on.  But, I have to say that I didn’t condone such brutal wishes of the Nut Job’s head coach to keel over on the sidelines just so we might have a chance at winning.  I thought to myself, what if this was Coach Harbaugh and any illness he may be going through?  I would find myself wishing those Nut Job fans to burn in hell for eternity if they were posting such wishes online for my coach.

In any case, that team from down south won yet again, but not before we got a chance to put some points on the board and take advantage of some of their defensive mistakes before the clock ran down and the win went elsewhere.   Since this is officially the last game of the season all the Michigan fans are reveling in nostalgia and anger and many saying “Next year we’ll get those nut jobs” but will we really?  Maybe it’s the Michigan coaching or the multi-talented team or the fact that somehow we can’t seem to get past this horribly tainted grey and scarlet (yuck almost threw up in my mouth there) team.  How long do we, the Michigan fans have to wait until we finally ring victorious over that dreaded team from Blohio?  I suppose that other fans will say “where’s you devotion, where’s your support for the maize and blue?” Just because I can see what is from what should have been doesn’t mean I’m any less devoted to Michigan.  Many college football programs have their dry spells, and sometimes they last more than a decade.  I consider myself a realist, especially when it comes to my team.  Many people constantly ask me why am I am University of Michigan fan when I live in Texas.  And shouldn’t Texas be my college team of choice?

My answer is always the same, I live in Texas but my heart is in Michigan.  And just because I live in Texas doesn’t mean I HAVE to be a Texas fan.  In fact I loath the University of Texas Longhorns, they are like the Dallas Cowboys of the college world for me.   And if you haven’t guessed, I hate the Cowboys too, GO STEELERS!!!!

I leave this post with hopes and dreams that next year we will be able to have an undefeated season, that as much talent as Michigan recruits and develops we can finally say that we will not only be ready for that team down south, we will reign victorious for an entire decade.  In a perfect world, all my teams will be victorious and have a perfect season.  But I am also fair and give credit where credit is due, and “that” team did a better job today, and that’s as far as my credit will go.  So continues the Blues of the Blue, one day we will no longer sing those blues with a heavy heart but celebrate a win on the scoreboard and the Fighting Wolverines singing Hail to the Victors in their hearts.

So, in spite of today’s loss I will bleed Maize and Blue until I die, so Hail to the Victors! GO BLUE!!!!


Part 9…If you Can’t Say Anything Nice about Anybody, come Sit By Me.

“I’ve taken more than would a fool, I start falling back in love with you” – Alicia Keys, Fallin’

The longer Lestat and I were together, the more aware of the inept nature of the woman he was married to became more evident.  He would show me texts when she was complaining about getting a lot of “slack” (I know I’ll explain) at work because she wasn’t updating her syllabi for the upcoming school year.  I read through the text several times and finally asked him what was it that she was trying to say and he said “she’s trying to say that she’s getting a lot of flak from her principal.”   I thought to myself can she be anymore idiotic? She’s giving teachers a bad name, especially English teachers because of her inept grasp and use of the English language.  I asked him if she used words out of context often and he said yes, almost in a constant awkward manner.

I could go on and on about what a moron this woman is, but I’m not and that is because there is nothing else I can say about her to make her any more stupid (I can and I probably will later on).  And many might think that I’m being harsh, uncaring and judgmental about a woman I hardly know.  But the truth is, I do know her, by proxy.  Okay I know when you hear a firsthand account of something or someone it probably is a bit bias.  But, I saw her texts to him, I felt how Lestat longed for not just a physical or sexual connection but a mental, emotional and intellectual connection as well.  To some people it is vital to be able to connect intellectually to their partner.  And others, like my ex-husband for instance and Fiona those things aren’t as important because they aren’t smart enough to know that their partner might need.  As we get older and those who were lucky enough to marry their best friend, this isn’t a problem.  But then there are those of us who this is made painfully obvious by the people we married and the frustration only grows over time.

My ex-husband was for the most part a good provider, but was bad at growing up or maturing, because letting go of things he loved about his youth was almost impossible for him.  We use to have a 1969 Chevy Camaro, and he began to fix it up to race down at the local drag strip.  Now, this is an expensive hobby a very expensive hobby.  But we were able to afford this because we both had very good paying jobs.  And because we lived in a mobile home our mortgage payment was $195 dollars a month, back in 1992.  For the record this is NOT where I wanted to live because we were conveniently located within walking distance from his mother.

In any case, he fixed up the car and raced it for “fun” but when it came time to be a grown up and seriously think about maybe buying a real house closer to where we both worked (we both commuted more than twenty-five miles one way, everyday) he began to think like an adult.  That is until his mother put in her two cents and changed his mind literally overnight.  This is when I realized that he didn’t listen to what I wanted or needed, he was a HUGE mama’s boy and listened to what his mother wanted and said.  There after began the deterioration of our already fragile marriage.  One can only endure being married to a stunted eighteen year old for only so long.  And the final crack in the marriage facade came when I told him I wanted to go to college, and he outright said no.  He told me I didn’t need to go to college because we were already established financially and my “place” was raising our children and keeping our household.

I already knew whose words these were, because my ex wasn’t smart enough to put those words together.  These poisonous words came out of the viper-tonged mouth of his mother, who enjoyed the meddlesome relationship she had with her only son.  So when I left him it shouldn’t have come as a shock, but it actually did.  And when we spoke again after I left him he asked me to come back and I said “not as long as you mother is still on this earth, thank you.” Of course he didn’t like that, but I knew the kind of woman his mother was, and I wasn’t the only “in-law” to rebel against her.  She had one daughter-in-law and two son-in-law’s and all of us disliked her for the very same reasons……..she was a hypocritical bitch who always got her way.   She was a domineering woman who told her married children what to do, when to do it and how to do it.

But I was the first one to bail out on this hypocritical family and it’s religiously fanatical matriarch.  So, when I left I made it known that everything we had gone through was because we were making horrendous mistakes as married teenagers, but they were only made worse by his mother and his inability to grow a pair of balls and put her in her place.  Because he was really good at trying to do it with me, he was just doing it to the wrong women.  So I left, and I was glad I did, if I had stayed I wouldn’t have gone to college, gotten my bachelor’s or my masters, found my dream job but I also wouldn’t have met Lestat either, okay so three out of four isn’t bad.  So both I and Lestat had marriage issues that were brought about by partners that were unable to be supportive or encouraging in anyway whatsoever.  Maybe that’s why we gravitated towards each other the way we did, who knows?

Lestat told me one day over lunch that he couldn’t talk with Fiona about anything because she couldn’t hold an adult conversation whatsoever. He became increasingly annoyed at the fact that all they had in common was their kids.  She showed no interest in learning about what he was interested in, and he did the same because he said her range of interests were watching t.v, her job as a teacher or the kids.  Oh, and being religiously Catholic, but even that was a topic of discord because she would lecture him on how sex was only for having kids.  Lestat thus began to look for that kind of comfort elsewhere as well intellectual stimulation.  One day he mentioned to me that she still watches shows that were meant for middle or high school kids.  He explained that their morning routine went like this, he’d wake up and turn on the television in their bedroom to watch CNN or any other news network, then jump into the shower to get ready for work.  When he’d get out of the shower he’d find her sitting on the bed watching reruns of (get this)……Saved by the Bell or Beverly Hills 90210.

You heard that right, a woman in her late forties, early fifties was still watching teen dramas from the 1990’s!  If this isn’t a sign of stunted mental development, and it be disturbing because of the fact that she is supposedly an “educated” women AND a teacher I don’t know what is.  He said he’s ask her if she was interested in anything going on in the world outside of her job, and he told me she just stared at him (like deer in headlights, his words not mine) and had no reply.  He would then turn around and change the television station back to the news and would finish getting ready for work while she would get mad and then go get ready herself.  I had asked if he had tried to talk to her about different things and he responded with yes he did several times but she wasn’t one to continue the conversation because she wasn’t interested in the same things he was.  Which included his health and well being which also pissed me off.  I mean come the fuck on, even I cared about my stupid ex-husbands health when we were married and made sure he took care of himself or I took care of him when he got sick, not for my sake but for my boys, after all he is their dad.

But not this stupid bitch, she was ignorant to everything that had to do with him.  One summer his doctor referred him to a dermatologist because of mole he had on his right temple, it turned out to be skin cancer and she could’ve cared less, he got food poisoning and passed out on the toilet (I’m sure he’ll love that I wrote about this) and she ran around the house screaming not knowing what to do instead of calling the fucking ambulance.  Of course she never bothered to see if he had a pulse or if he was still breathing, she just ran around like a goddamned idiot screaming at her daughter (who by the way didn’t know what the fuck to do either) until the daughter called 911.

How do I know this?  Because despite the fact that he had fallen off the toilet, he was semi-conscience and could hear her screaming and running around their bedroom for an entire ten minutes.  He then turned to me and said “if we lived together and that happened to me what would you have done?”  I took his face in my hands and I kissed him and then said “I would have called the fucking ambulance as soon as you fell off the goddamned toilet, that’s what!”  And since I know CPR I would have checked for a pulse and tried to get you to talk to me to try and see what you were feeling.  He looked at me with a smile and told me “I believe you would have” and I responded with of course I fucking would have.

But that isn’t to say that this dysfunctional relationship was more dysfunctional than most, because it was.  It was fucked up beyond anything I had read or heard about and that’s saying a lot because I grew up in a dysfunctional family.  Because we talked knew each other so well, we had so much in common and I also knew what he went through professionally, he was a contractor and a very shrewd businessman.   He knew his shit when it came to construction in general but particularly HVAC and electrical and he was in business with his oldest brother, who knew about me.  Come to think of it, most of his siblings knew about me, his oldest brother, his second oldest brother and his only sister who was his secretary in his company.  Actually he also had three cousins that knew about me as well, which kind of makes me think now that his wife is really stupid because half of his family knew he had a mistress, and she was in the dark about her husband and what he did when he wasn’t home.  In any case I knew the stress that he went through because of his business, and sometimes when his sister wasn’t around he’d ask me to do some administrative things for his company.  And I would because again I was in love and waiting for him to turn into Charming.

I was more of a wife to him than his wife was, except the one thing she had over me was that she begrudgingly gave birth to his two kids and I hadn’t.  But I am glad that during the entire time I had my uterus (I’ll explain later about this later) I hadn’t gotten pregnant by him.  That would have been a nightmare entirely, simply because I had all the kids I wanted to have and because if I had had a child of his how would I explained to this wonderful bundle of joy as he got older that his dad didn’t live with me or that his dad was married to someone else and he had two other children he could never meet.  I say “he” because I don’t think I’m genetically engineered to have a girl, we’ll leave it at that.  By now you’re thinking, how did you have a married boyfriend and keep this fact from your three boys?

Well the truth is I didn’t, as my boys became men I told them the truth about my relationship with Lestat.  It wasn’t an easy thing to do, nor do I condone for anyone else to be doing what I did.  But I also mentioned to them that I hadn’t intended on falling in love with a married man.  I explained that when I first met him he was separated and was ironing out the issues for him to divorce, and we dated with this intention to eventually come to fruition.  This was (supposedly) a mutual decision even after he found out his wife was pregnant with his second child (you know the child they decided to have so their son wouldn’t be alone in this world without a sibling?).

He told me about his situation going into our second month of dating, and I felt like I had been sucker punched in the gut and my blood ran cold.  He knelt down in front of me and explained that his wife was expecting and that they were separated and that they had planned this pregnancy for the sake of his son.  He also explained that his marriage was broken and they both intended to get a divorce.  I accepted his explanation because I didn’t think he had any reason to lie to me, besides we had just met two months prior and I didn’t know I’d wind up falling for Lestat the Emotional Vampire disguised as Prince Charming.  I mean his performance of Charming could have won the Academy Award for best actor, he was that good.  So since we’re Fiona bashing (you see I mentioned her again) I’ll also mention that she’s a lousy cook and horrible housekeeper.

First of all it’s a mother’s responsibility to teach our children many things and your mother should teach you how to cook and care for your home. No this isn’t a stereotype, I’m talking about children in general, it doesn’t matter if their male or female they should all know how to cook, clean, wash their own clothes and iron!  Unless your mother is just as bad at things like cooking and rearing children then you’re pretty much fucked.  Like Fiona is/was because her mother was just as big an idiot as she is (fruit……tree, didn’t fall far, remember?).   I’ve taught my boys to be self-sufficient because god forbid that they get married and their wives complain they don’t know how to do anything.  I mean I don’t want to bitch-slap these imaginary daughter-in-law’s but I will if I have to.  And as a single mother I also taught them how to drive, shave and talking to them about safe sex.  Because let’s face it as much as one wants to keep their children from making the same mistakes we’ve made, we can’t.

So talking to my boys about safe sex was one way of trying to make them aware that becoming a teen-aged parent would change the course of their lives forever.  It must have worked because all three made it through high school without getting anyone pregnant.  Being both a mother and father wasn’t easy, there are just some things that boys need a father for.  But that didn’t stop me from trying to be a solid mother and father figure to my boys.  I had to, their dad actively chose not to participate in their lives because he decided he’d have a do over and marry again and start another family all the while ignoring the children he already had.  So, I took on the role of both and I cherished every minute.  But as I was saying, being a parent we need to show our kids how to do certain things so that they can get along in life.  Simple things like to cook for themselves and clean, wash and maintain their cars.

And thank God I had a mother that was not only a fabulous cook and owned a restaurant before going to work for the school district, but she was raised by an ex-Army man who showed her how to make beds with hospital corners you could bounce a quarter off of.   As well as clean the floor so good you could eat off of, how to clean the kitchen to avoid food contamination and iron clothes so crisp they could practically stand on their own, this was my grandfather, Manuel Marin (love ya grandpa).  My mom had a good teacher and so did I and therefore even though my boys aren’t three star chefs they can cook for and do for themselves.  Which brings me back to Fiona, so in her case she had a mother who for all intents and purposes was a horrendous cook and a failure as a mother (her other daughter stole money from her, was a habitual drug addict and sold her car without her knowing and abandon her three children with their grandmother, need I say more?).   Lestat told me he hated holidays’ because he was forced to eat his mother-in-law’s horrible cooking.  Which transferred over to his wife, but it’s amazing what you get use to going through Relational Stockholm syndrome, you get use to bad cooking and bad care period.  I know some of you will read this and form opinions that I am judging this woman because of the fact that I was seeing her husband therefore I hated her by default.

Well, that’s wrong because I hate her for so many other reasons than just being married to the man that I was in love with.  The disdain went farther than her being a dumb ass in general, I had never seen or heard for myself how she behaved or treated her husband first hand I may have never found out what she was really like and I would probably still feel bad for her.  And maybe I was bias in a way, but being able to get inside Intel about what Lestat’s marriage was/is like, and as an intelligent person that can form my own opinions about a situation I was in, I saw what he went through.  I will say this though, there is always three sides to every story, his, hers and the truth.  It’s going to sound very contradictory but my theory of Relational Stockholm syndrome is complicated.  Every relationship has three sides to it, his side, her side and what really happens.  But of course no one will ever hear what really happens because neither he nor she is going to explain that side.

They will always make their side the innocent side, and the other side villainous and callous.  Again I know that you all are thinking “so how come you only take his side?” well the fact is I did, but I consider myself to be a fair person.  Let me elaborate on this,  one day he explained to me that his wife was on her way to work and at a two way stop near their house and she got sideswiped by an oncoming car when she had the right of way.  Thus crashing into her SUV on the passenger side right in the middle of the front and back doors.  After a long and arduous experience with their insurance company, it was decided that her Toyota Sequoia was going to be totaled because it was hit from the side and the frame of the car was bent and couldn’t be repaired.  You’ve seen these salvaged cars and trucks on the road all the time, you’re driving behind them and they seem that they’re driving crooked or off balance.  Anyway he explained that he went to a Chevrolet dealership and bought her a new 2010 Chevy Tahoe and took it home and handed her the keys.

I remember exactly what we were doing when he was explaining this to me, we were having lunch and as I sat there and listened to him trying to explain how he had gone about buying her a new car to get the ordeal over with.  I sat there eating my salad and looking at him in wonder and some small amounts of contempt, I asked him what she said about her new car.  He said that she began to cry (apparently that’s her only type of defense) and he said to me while slicing through his pizza with a fork and knife (hey I never said he was perfect) “can you believe that?  I go out and buy her a new car and she fucking cried?”  I looked down at my salad and without looking up I responded with “Yeah I believe it, she’s weak because you wouldn’t have been able to pull that shit on me that’s for damned sure.”  He looked up at me, and I could see that clouds of confusion and anger were glossing over his beautiful honey colored eyes as he responded with “What? Are you serious?!”

I put down my fork and took a sip of my iced tea because I was getting ready to slam him with some philosophical bitch-slapping that was going to leave him in deep, deep thought and maybe with some new and important insight about me and women in general.  And this is what I said, “If, and I do mean if you and I were married and I had been driving around a rental vehicle for three weeks and one day you just casually walked in and handed me keys to a car I hadn’t seen let alone wanted, I would have been pissed.  I would have taken the keys from you, retrieved my purse and gotten in the car you bought without my permission or input and driven back to the dealership and picked out something I liked.”

His face turned hard as he sat back into the red leather booth we were sitting in and crossed his arms over his chest.  He looked out the window at the raindrops streaking the plate glass window, dark grey covered the sky and the clouds I had seen in his eyes before were getting darker.  He looked over at me and stared intently into my eyes as if searching for the lost little girl he once knew.  I saw this as a challenge of some sort and I stared back at him and not once did I blink (the grown up version of a staring contest).

He sighed loudly and finally spoke and said “I really never thought about it that way, I guess your right” and in some small way I had just fought a battle for his stupid horse faced wife and she didn’t even know it.  I picked up my fork and said “you bet your ass I’m right, so don’t ever fucking do shit like that again.”  I can and am fair in many ways, and that day I thought that he acted as if he was dragging his knuckles on the ground and needed to know that when your married it’s a two way street, even when it comes to buying a car.  I’m pretty sure some wives would have appreciated the “gesture” he made, but it might be an act that would have eventually been resented and used as ammunition in future fights.  Independence was something that I was learning but didn’t realize it at the time, and it was happening quicker than he anticipated as well.

Despite the fact that I cared for him deeply and looked after his well-being, well as much as I possibly could NOT being his wife.  I, for the most part, was not immune to the insensitive nature of this relationship.  For example, even though we began dating while he was separated the aftermath still came with consequences.  Not once during our twenty year relationship did he ever spend the holidays with me.  During the duration of our time together I had to endure endless Christmas’ and Thanksgivings alone (well with my family but alone without the man I was in love with) and this didn’t seem to faze him.  I, on the other hand would feel devastated and honestly I should have felt that way.

But when you love someone, during normal circumstances you should be together during the holidays because that’s who you’re with and it’s only natural to do so.  But not in my case, I should have become unaffected to the insensitive nature of this twisted and toxic relationship as time went by.  But as much as I wanted too, I could not just flip a switch to make it happen, even though I wanted it to. During the holiday’s he’d spend Christmas with his family and the photos posted to their social media would portray a happy family, but l knew it was fake, it was all fake.  And despite knowing this here I was again looking from the outside in and wishing that the motherfucker would make up his goddamned mind.  But as time went on those feelings of love and caring turned to narcotization, I didn’t care what he did or if I’d see him for the holidays or prior to them.  After the desensitization began to happen I hadn’t even realized that it had happened.  That’s when he began to notice that I was acting “like I didn’t care” if he was going out of town to visit his spoiled kids in San Antonio.  I suppose it was part of the vampirism he inflicted on me and I was turning into someone devoid of feelings, well not too much but turning into something that he was no longer going to recognize.

I hadn’t asked much from him at this point in my life because I thought if I ask he’ll see it as some sort of dependence and he might see it as a turn off.  I thought he’ll start to see me as needy (like his wife) and leave, okay the thought is stupid but it was very real back then.  I had never demanded that he help me but in the back of my mind I thought I didn’t need to.  I thought that because he loved me he’d want to help when I needed it.  But that was far from the truth.  So, Lestat stayed blissfully unaware or ignored the signs I needed help and I went through some very real hardships.  Stay tuned for part ten….


Part 8…….What in the Hell were You Thinking?!?!?

“Ninety percent of the people in the world end up with the wrong person.  And that’s what makes the jukebox spin” – Laurie Anderson

I was all in, in the beginning but little did I realize that it would be the longest “beginning” of my entire life.  The discovery of my emotional theory was a personal breakthrough, it was amazing and I felt I finally had an answer to his indecisive nature. Only my theoretical bubble burst as I drove into my parent’s driveway because I also realized that I too was a victim of this relational Stockholm syndrome.  As I sat there in my car covered in imaginary bubble goo listening to Paul McCartney singing “Baby I’m Amazed”, I knew I had to either get him to leave me alone or make a decision to divorce his wife.  I also knew this wasn’t going to be easy, or that it would happen at all.

I suppose it’s like an arranged marriage, you marry someone that your parents or elder relatives make you marry and at first you know you will never like let alone love this person because you were in love with someone else or wanted a different life.  Then after years of marriage you begin to develop caring feelings for this person you were forced to marry.  Then slowly those feeling of like turn to love over a couple of years of sharing a home and life together.  But sometimes there are signs that you should pay attention to because that may have saved you from an unhappy marriage.

As our relationship evolved as did the trust between us, I became his best friend and he became mine, I became his confidant and adviser to a certain extent as he did the same for me.  All of this happened in spite of our situation, it’s like cultivating a crop of nothing but weeds, somewhere in those weeds you find a rose….a rose with a lot of fucking sharp thorns.  With that came deeper more involved conversations about our past and our lives, marriages and kids.  One night while staying at a hotel we were lying in bed talking and we began another one of our philosophical conversation of “what might have been and what was.”  He decided to tell me the story of how he had built their first house, before they got married he bought a parcel of land off of Piedras street in Central El Paso.  He said his intention was to build them a house so they didn’t have to live with his or her parents or rent a house until they could afford to buy one.  I thought to myself that was very admirable and I would have loved for a man to do that for me (of course what I got was single wide mobile home in Fabens six blocks from my monster-in-law).  Lestat explained that at the time he had started his construction company and would work all day and at night go and work on the house he was building.  He said at times he’d sleep on pallets of roofing shingle or sacks of dry concrete and in the morning would take a shower in the back yard with the garden hose to go off to another day of work.

He also explained that she’d get mad because he would work so late, mind you she didn’t know about that house he was building it was going to be a surprise right before their wedding.  So after months and months of hard work, the day finally came to surprise Fiona with her new house.  He said he picked her up and drove her to the side of town where he’d built the house.  He pulled up in front of the house and she asked what he was doing, he asked her to get out of his truck and then as they both stood there in front of a brand new home.  He told her that this was his wedding present to her.  That this was why he was working so late and that now they had a new house to live in after their wedding.  That’s when he got quiet (which by the way isn’t like him) and I asked him what happen next.  He told me she began to cry, and I thought of course she did, it would make any woman cry to know her future husband not only bought her a house but built it with his own loving hands. You know like what Charming might do, I mean if the fucker was around.

He said he thought the same thing and as he hugged her he began to tell her that he did this as her wedding present, but that’s not why she was crying.  That’s when he said she responded with “I don’t want to live in this neighborhood, it’s so far from my parents’ house and I don’t like it here.”  He said she cried for a week and even asked if they could sell the house to move closer to her parents.  When I heard him say that it drove me into a rage I rarely experience, it was because of the love I felt for this man at the time I was livid at what he was telling me.  I said to him “Are you fucking kidding me?  The bitch said that to you?”  He looked at me and said “yeah she did and there wasn’t a thing I could do about it.”  I told him yeah there was you didn’t have to marry the selfish bitch!  I asked him if he didn’t think this was a sign he should rethink marrying her. But we discontinued that particular conversation and my disdain for his wife only grew as the years passed.  He also disclosed to me that day that the reason they had another child was so that their son wouldn’t be an only child and he’d have a sibling to grow up with, not because they actually wanted another kid.

So in short, this man married a woman that he wasn’t attracted to but somehow grew to love and after their marriage began to disintegrate decided to have another baby so their son wouldn’t be an only child.   How fucked up are the reasons that this man made in his lifetime and then decided to have a mistress because he wasn’t getting any emotional or physical affection at home and then told his mistress he loved her but wouldn’t leave his wife whom by this time had told me he didn’t love but still “cared” for?  It’s enough to give you the emotional and mental equivalent of brain freeze. The relational Stockholm syndrome theory began to sink in around about the seventeenth year of our relationship.  Yes I realize that’s a long time but again Charming was still in the back of my mind and I was somehow hoping that he would prove me wrong and show the fuck up.

Now I know many people are going to sit there and judge me for having an affair with a married man, again it didn’t start that way.  But some will question my morals and my sense of self-worth and how I could do that to another woman.  Well, the fact is I wasn’t doing it to another woman I was doing it to myself, because as I put it to Lestat in our last and final fight, I didn’t give a fuck what his wife went through or why, yes that sounds selfish but after everything I knew about Fiona, there was nothing else but hatred for her, her indifference towards him as her husband and taking him for granted everything he provided (even though he was doing the very same thing to me).  You see marriage is a team effort, I knew that from when I was married and I found myself having to pull the matrimonial wagon up every steep hill I encountered in my marriage…alone.  I knew that I should have gotten support in every way from my ex-husband, but I didn’t.  I knew that our marriage fell apart because of the parts we both played in its demise.  We were both at fault and yes sometimes one carries more fault than the other.  But regardless a marriage is made up of two people, and they both have to work at it.  And it equally failed because both had contributing factors and both parties have a hand in the failure of any marriage.

So for those of you pointing your hypocritical fingers at the “other” woman, just stop it, it’s not entirely her fault.  The breakdown begins in the fiery crash that is the marriage involved and within the two people flying the marriage plane.  Both people invested are responsible for the success or failure of a marriage.  One can’t blame one more than the other it’s a partnership and it’s hard work.  Affection, emotional and financial support is only the beginning of trying to keep a marriage afloat.  But some people (both men and women) fail at the physical/sexual part of a marriage.  They get busy, they concentrate on children, careers or education.  But above all sexual/physical affection is important to keep your significant other “fired” up so to speak.  The sooner that both men and women accept this fact the sooner they will realize that they can either try to fix it or leave.  Unless you’re like Fiona who could live with no physical contact because her idiot mother taught her that sex was dirty and wrong and purely for procreation purposes.   But the bitch must have done something right because she tricked a man into marrying her stupid ass right?

Even at forty-nine I still try very hard to look my best, not for a man but for me.  I realized that the hard way that one needs to first love and accept themselves before you can love someone else.  I tried for so long to do what the man that I considered the love of my life wanted from me and I lost sight of who I was, and even worse turned into someone I didn’t recognize.  I was so hell bent on being what his wife wasn’t so that he would see I loved him more than she did he’d divorce her so he could be happy with me.  But that was an illusion, as I mentioned before I suffered from the Relational Stockholm syndrome and the Sleeping Beauty effect, I was metaphorically asleep waiting for this Prince Charming guy to come along and wake me up.  In my case I pricked my finger and then deep emotional sleep set in from all common sense.  Except in my case the emotional sleep was what I believed to be true love and the prick was….well a prick in the shape of my married, obsessive-compulsive, passive-aggressive boyfriend.

Let’s go back to explain about Fiona, his wife because I refuse for anyone to think that I had it in for this woman, which okay I did but not without good reason.  Let me start by explaining the issues I had in my marriage.  As the admitted “other” woman, I realized that I could not have been so stupid to NOT know that my husband was having an affair.  In fact, it did happen to me but I found out not because I cared, but because I wasn’t a total idiot that I wasn’t paying attention to the signs.  My ex-husband is/was a mechanic that worked for a gas company maintaining their company vehicles.  At this company was a secretary named (oh for the sake of this story well call her Gina).  It was obvious they were attracted to each other, I could see it but my marriage was on the last threads of its ever fraying rope and really didn’t care.  I might have if I still had any kind of emotional attachment to my ex, but I didn’t.  It wasn’t the first time either, he (as did I) began to find comfort elsewhere when we began our twelfth year of marriage because the animosity and maturity on my part began to grow as the years went on. We grew apart as most couples do, but because we married as teenagers we grew apart in different ways.

It seemed that we each knew this was happening but didn’t acknowledge the fact because if we did, we’d actually have to deal with it.  And neither of us was emotionally read to do so, so we ignored the situation and continued to go through the motions of our hollow marriage for another two and a half years. One day he called to tell me he was being sent to Carlsbad to fix a vehicle that had broken down over there, and I said that was fine and told him to drive safe and all that jazz.  But that day was payday and I went by to pick up his check like I always did, remember this was before direct deposit, and when I got there his boss (whom I was extremely attracted to, hey at least I’m honest) was in his office.  I knocked on the door and he smiled and asked me to come in and sit down while he looked through all the envelopes for my husband’s paycheck.

He asked me how my husband was doing because he had called in sick, which I found odd because I thought he had been sent out of town, and that’s when it clicked.  I went along with it and told him he was doing better, and then he handed me my husband’s check and I left.  As I walked past the front office I said hi to everyone, they all knew who I was and that I was there every two weeks to pick up my husband’s check.  I asked another girl Carmen where Gina was and she said that she felt sick and had called in sick and had stayed home that day.  I mean, I almost laughed out loud because I actually knew what was going on. I said to her that was too bad and then said my goodbyes to everyone and left.  As I waited at the drive thru at the bank I thought to myself I can’t believe I wasn’t mad or hurt or even felt betrayed for that matter.

I made my deposit and drove to a bar on Montana where I had a friend who was a bartender there.  As I walked in and April (that’s what I’ll call her) saw me she ran up to me and we hugged, she asked how I was and I told her I was great.  I sat at the bar and ordered an Italian Margarita like the ones from Olive Garden, she knew how to make them and they were delish!  As I sat there drinking my cocktail we began to talk, it was slow so she had taken her break and I told her about what I had discovered and she went ballistic.  I told her to calm down and I explained why, she looked at me it complete amazement.  She asked me how long I had felt this way and I told her for a while now.  She also wondered if I was going to confront my husband and I asked why if I was actually okay with it.  I had another two drinks and ate something to help the buzz of the alcohol subside before I drove home.

That day he didn’t come back home until about two thirty in the morning, and I could smell her perfume on him.  I smiled and turned in bed and went back to sleep and didn’t even wake up to talk to him.  I knew of all of my ex-husbands affairs and why did I know without him divulging any details?  Because I wasn’t stupid about the state of our marriage and I also knew that eventually we would go our separate ways, I just didn’t know exactly when.  So when it comes to Fiona it can only be sheer stupidity if she couldn’t figure out that her husband has had a mistress for fucking twenty years of their thirty year marriage. Not that Lestat didn’t do his part to try and hide it because he did, which was another sign that he still cared or loved that ugly horse-faced woman he called a wife.  Why else would he try so hard to keep his relationship with me a secret if he didn’t still love her?  Because neither I nor my ex-husband really cared to cover our tracks when we were with someone else.  Nor did we care to do things together that didn’t involve our boys, because by the end of our marriage we couldn’t stand to be in each other’s company.

But Lestat tried so hard to find ways to cover his tracks when it came to his wife, and of course the only casualty in this entire endeavor was me.  But hold on, this still doesn’t explain why I hate her, there is a so much more than just her being stupid.  How I came to have a deep hate for her existence (so much so that I wrote a short story called Murder on Transmountain Drive, and she was the person murdered in that scenario) was that I saw and heard how she talked to him several times.  I saw many text messages from her where she tells him he was useless and that she was going to file for divorce but never really did.  Texts about how she did everything and he always worked not contributing to the home or rearing of their children when I knew first hand he did.  How she would say that she didn’t care what happened to him when he found out he had skin cancer and that he would have to go through that alone.

Of course his wife only assumed he’d be alone going through whatever he was struggling with didn’t know I was around and that I would be there for him.  Her messages to him of how she hated him for working so much and ignoring her and how she tried really hard to be a good wife (I almost threw up on that one).  One time I saw one of his responses and it went something like, “If you try too hard to be a good wife how come we never have sex?  That is a big part of marriage and you essentially got what you wanted and I got played because you lied to me about what you would do for me.  I gave you everything you ever wanted and I got the short end of the stick here.”  First of all I didn’t really like the fact that he mentioned having sex with her because he said and showed me texts that she was as he’d like to call a “dead fuck.”  You know those people (men and women) that just lie there until the deed is done.  I was actually surprised, then he showed me her answer, and of course the bitch may be an English teacher but she has no discernible communication skills, and she said to him “That she though when they got married he’d give up the entire ‘sex’ thing and they’d raise their kids together and be happy.”  And “you got me pregnant when I didn’t want to have any more kids” like the he could have gotten her pregnant all by himself, what a fucking moron she is.

I was in shock, she actually thought that once she got that ring on her fat finger she didn’t have to try anymore.  As long as she got what she wanted to hell with what he wanted or felt.  Sex is not just sex, it’s an expression of love especially in a good and stable marriage so how could this ignorant idiot actually think this way?!  I didn’t even know how to react, I mean no wonder he had a mistress, but that still didn’t justify when he didn’t leave her stupid ass.  Because she is stupid and as I got bolder and my confidence built up I decided one day to show up to an open house or parent-teacher conference night at the middle school she taught at.  Yes I know this sounds very “Fatal Attraction-ish” but I wasn’t hell bent on killing her or harming their kids, I just needed to see what he wouldn’t leave this woman.  Needless to say my boyfriend, whom happened to be there with her because their son went to school there, he decided to go with them that night, was in complete shock and kind of nervous to see me there.  I stood outside her classroom hiding in plain sight with crowds of parents while swirls of conversations were going on around me.

I just stood and listened as she was talking to one of the parents and her student as she was trying to explain to the mother that her child needed to apply himself more by conducive reading but what she said was conductive, not conducive.  The child’s mother whom was also an educator, a math teacher from another school looked at her with a confused look and then she asked Fiona “You mean to say that Richard needs to apply himself conductively?”  And the stupid bitch nodded and said “yes, in order for him to begin reading at his grade level he needs to read conductively” (spell check is trying to correct this but this is how she was saying this word).  By this point the mother looked more aggravated than confused and in one motion turned to her son who was sitting right by her and said “Richard you listen to Mrs. Shrek and read in a conducive manner, which means more productive so that you can catch up with your class okay?”  Fiona finally had figured out that she was using the wrong word and out of context and began to turn red with embarrassment as was my boyfriend.  I could see him from the corner of my eye and he left the room from sheer second hand embarrassment because he knew the mother of this child was a teacher and that she would go and tell others at her school what an idiot Fiona was as an English teacher.

I felt an evil smile come on and turned to leave as I looked through my purse for the keys to my car.  I walked through the parking lot with a sense of satisfactory confirmation about this woman’s intelligence, but still wondered why he was still with her, my cell phone rang.  As I drove I answered and it was Lestat and boy was he mad.   He asked me what I thought I was doing there and I told him I needed confirmation.  He asked confirmation of what, and I told him of what an idiot he had married.  I mean I said I never understood why it took her six times to pass her teacher certification but that night I found the answer.  That wasn’t the only confirmation I had, her school like others across the country had begun to use individual teacher websites for their classes.  So one day I found hers and I was actually embarrassed at the grammatical errors on her website, I mean she was a fucking English teacher and had tons of grammatical errors on her website and what’s worse is that the school left it like that the entire semester!  WHAT THE FUCK!?! What kind of education were these poor kids getting?!  Stay tuned for part nine….


Part 7………..The Discovery of Relational Stockholm Syndrome and Lestat Rehab.

“Bad relationships are like a bad investment.  No matter how much you put into it, you’ll never get anything out of it.  Find someone that’s worth investing in” – Sonia Parker                 

After the revelation about Fiona’s affair with the pizza place manager, Lestat decided to enlighten me how he wound up in his supposedly unhappy marriage.  He began with when he was sixteen he saw this beautiful girl at a party (or celebration of some sort) and he sent his best friend to go and ask her if she would like to talk to him.  The stupid best friend walked up to the beautiful girl and began talking to her ugly cousin and that’s when Fiona walked over to talk to him and he was too embarrassed to tell her that he was interested in her cousin and not her. That was the beginning of how he met his Fiona Shrek looking wife.  Imagine that?  Going blissfully through life not knowing that your husband didn’t even want to talk to you and by some twist of fate and good fortune on your part, you married this man.  I asked him how come he never set the record straight that night and he said he didn’t have the heart to.

To a normal person this means he was too chicken shit to stop this miscommunication train before it jumped its tracks.  Then he proceeded to tell me that they began dating off and on until he graduated high school and moved to Austin, Texas to work with his oldest brother in construction.  They didn’t go to school together, oh no Fiona’s mom thought public school was too raunchy for her ugly daughter.  Fiona went to a private school, which really didn’t help her much I mean she wasn’t exactly the smartest tool in the shed and it’s not like she could get by on her looks because she was pretty much fucked in that department as well.  He lived in Austin for about three years and even began dating a nurse.  A fucking nurse, and a beautiful nurse at that! He once showed me a tattered, taped up picture of a beautiful brunette with green eyes, long tan legs and wearing a black and yellow polka-dot bikini.  I thought to myself, what the fuck?!  He left that beautiful woman to marry the ugly bitch he calls a wife?  What happened?!

He began to tell me that he began dating this nurse, but she moonlighted as a stripper (not judging we’ve all done things we’re not proud of, hence this blog) to begin repaying her student loans and he felt unsettled by the whole thing.  I think it was because he felt insecure after all he was only twenty, fairly young and immature.  Did I mention he has a stutter?  It’s not a bad impediment but he said that when he was younger, like in his teens and twenties it was worse and it made him feel self-conscience and insecure, which would explain why he stayed with this woman I suppose.  Back to Fiona, so he broke up with this nurse and stayed in Austin.  All the while Fiona was calling and writing to him, you know making her presence known to him or how I like to think of it, stalking his dumb ass.

He said he rarely wrote back to her or returned her phone calls (so he says) but the bitch persisted.  By this time he was dating another women and one day Fiona showed up, totally uninvited and unannounced at his apartment in Austin (where he lived with his other girlfriend).  He opened the door, his then girlfriend in the background making lunch and as Fiona witnessed this she somehow felt betrayed (WTF?) went off on him accusing him of cheating on her.  Apparently Fiona believed they were actually still dating, even though he’d moved away three years prior (crazy? Yes definitely a sign to stay away from her, but no, not this asshole).

To make a long story even longer, Fiona came back to El Paso where she was trying to finish college (I emphasize the word trying) and attempting to pass her teacher certification exam (which he mistakenly told me took her six fucking times) and before you knew it he had moved back too because he was homesick.  After he moved back they resumed their relationship and they dated for a while.  All this time Lestat thinking that Fiona was probably the best that he could do, so he settled.  They dated over the course of four years and then he began to ask her for adventurous sex.  But she made excuses that they couldn’t have sex because they weren’t married.  Do you see a set up here?  I sure as fuck do, anyway he didn’t want to get married and the dating continued.  He began asking her for sex yet again, and I guess she finally gave in because she may have sensed she was losing her grip on him, but it was not the kind of sex he wanted, or so that’s what he told me.

He told me one day they had gone to buy beer and she offered to get down at the store to do so.  As she got off his truck and walked in front of him he stared at her through the windshield and he told me he thought to himself, “what the fuck am I doing, I’m not even attracted to her?”  I swear this was what he told me, and I proceeded to ask him why the fuck did her marry her?  The answer totally blew me away (are you ready for this?) he turned and looked at me and said “because I said yes.”  I sat there and stared at him in complete disbelief and said “You mean to tell me, Fiona asked YOU to marry her and you said yes?  Even after you said to yourself that you weren’t attracted to her, what the fuck were you doing marrying her!?”  He got up from the chair he was sitting in and angrily said “Yes, yes I did marry her.  We all make mistakes right!?”  His voice began to get defensively louder and then he asked me “I mean you married you ex-husband and you turned out to deeply regret it right?”

The accusation that maybe I might have made a stupid decision like his made me angry but being the quick wit I am I responded with “Yeah I fucking did, but I was motherfucking sixteen years old, I didn’t know any better, so what the fuck was your excuse?!?”  He quickly turned to look at me, his glare acknowledged my assessment of his inept mistake.  He didn’t have a response for what I had just asked him because he knew I was right.  When your sixteen you are as naïve as a sixteen year old can be but when your twenty-five you have to have a gun to your head or be completely insecure and afraid to be alone that you marry a woman you’re not attracted to like he did, that’s far from being naïve, that’s plain stupidity.   We argued some more about his stupid decision to marry a women he wasn’t attracted to and that divorce wasn’t an option at this point.  On my way home I began to wonder why anyone would stay married let alone have kids with a woman he claimed he wasn’t attracted to.  The conclusion I came to?  Relational Stockholm syndrome, it’s a mesh of regular Stockholm syndrome and relationship dependence.

With the realization, that I too suffered from this so-called relational Stockholm syndrome came overwhelming floods of emotions I felt for him, both of love and hate and sorrow as well as sadness.  To explain just how much I loved this man, I would relate every single feeling of love about him to music, poetry and I would write, I would write a lot.  I have twenty-seven journals all about the entire time I spent in complete and total love with this stupid, emotional sucking, love draining motherfucking man!  How I hated and loved him and what I would go through and do for him.  I could express every single detail of just how much in love with him I was.  I would compare what I was going through to songs, the lyrics would stir these whirlwinds of gut wrenching emotions.  I would fucking cry just trying to express how deeply I was in love with him.  And what did he do?

He’d respond with “Me too” and to me, this was heartbreaking.  Because I knew damned well he could do more than answer with me too.  He was able to describe and go into detail about every sexual fantasy he ever had, he could verbalize just how, when, where and with whom, all of this and no sign of a stutter could be heard!  So I knew he could say more than just the “me too” and all I could think of was that he just didn’t want to at least not for me.  Just as a measure of how in love I was with this man and compared him to a song, the song that came to mind when we first began dating was Roberta Flask’s “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face” because she sang each and every lyric of that song as if it were coming directly out of my heart.  If anyone has ever listened to that song, the lyrics, the haunting melody and every precise note and execution of her voice you know that is a true love song.   This is the time I was wholeheartedly convinced that this man was “the” love of my life.  I was in love and I was in deep, and I felt nothing but wanting to please him and let him know exactly what he meant to me.  And that was probably the biggest mistake I’d ever make with this man.

When you begin to stroke someone’s ego, let alone an emotional vampire’s ego it is as dangerous as it can get.  You build them up and then they begin to feel that they are what you think of them.  It doesn’t matter why they don’t return the gestures of love or reassurance of emotions.  They have been confirmed as the center of your universe and you are only a star orbiting every so often and not as important to them as they are to you.  Then when I saw and felt his indifference towards how I expressed my love for him, I began to slowly stop telling him and began to turn those feelings of love into, alienation and eventually to hate.  So, just to explain exactly how I went from love to hate I’ll put it this way. I went from Roberta Flack’s “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face” to Alanis Morissette’s “You Outta Know” in the span of fourteen years.  During the first ten “honeymoon” years of our relationship we’d go through phases of emotions.  One thing that stuck out about this narcissistic vampire was that when we’d talk on the phone and at the end of our conversations we’d say “I love you” before hanging up, always.  That is of course unless we’d be arguing, and even then I would still tell him I love you at the end of our conversations and the asshole motherfucker would say “thanks.”

I said to him that I suppose that he would feel okay with this cold and unfeeling response, seeing as I believed he had ice running through his selfish self-centered veins.  His explanation for this was, that when we’d have arguments and we’d say our goodbyes on the phone he couldn’t bring himself to tell me he loved me because (and I quote) he was still angry and when he’d get over it he’d be able to say I love you again.  Now we had this conversation as I was driving home one day and I said to him “So if we hand up right this instant and I get hit by an eighteen wheeler and die, you will go to sleep totally okay knowing that the last thing you ever said to me after I told you I loved you was thanks?”

He stayed quiet and then said “well when you explain it like that I suppose you have a point” and as I drove into my parents driveway we finished our conversation and right before we hung up he said “I love you.”  I stayed silent for a second and then responded with “thanks” and hung up the phone.  Stay tuned for part eight….


Part 6…….A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Ball

“Like Mom Said, You can’t Polish a Turd” – Unknown

Waldo was just one in a string of faux Charming’s, although I had always known that I was always going to measure every man I met against the supposed “love of my life” Lestat.  This was because he was the first man I had fallen in love with as an adult.  I also knew this wasn’t going to be fair to any man who might be a potential love interest.  The fact that I was able to acknowledge this was a huge personal breakthrough.  After which I knew I had to do something to try and change it.  So with my new found knowledge and after the horrific Waldo episode, I set out to work on my Lestat issues.  But not before he and I reconciled once more and we resumed our dysfunctional relationship for the fourth hundredth time.  I know some of you are thinking, what about his wife?  Where was she during all of the drama going on with the two of you?  Well, she was there in his legitimate life playing the perfect wife and mother to his two kids, even though she was far from being a good wife.

During our temporary reconciliation, he had decided to tell me about a note that he had found in his wife’s purse from some guy who was the manager of a local children’s pizza place (that was the best this inept, vapid bitch could do, a guy who managed a kids pizza place, I mean was the mofo all of 25 years old?) and he confronted her about it (I mean not really confronted because he had said he didn’t really care, but was curious as to who this guy was). When he handed her the note she became so nervous that she began to shake.  He said it was almost amusing to see her fumble for words (yeah like she’d never done that before and she’s a goddamned English teacher!) and then she finally told him she was seeing some guy named Rick.  It turns out that Fiona was having an affair (wait it gets better) and they spoke about it and he told her that she could keep on seeing this guy.  That’s right, Lestat the emotional vampire actually gave Fiona the butt ugly English teacher permission to have an affair!

It gets way better than that, he told her that he wanted to meet this guy as to make sure he wouldn’t cause any problems for him or their kids, who were still children at this time.  I sat there in shock as he explained what had happened while we were apart.  He told me that they all met at an Applebee’s, okay first of all I can’t believe this Rick dude agreed to meet with Lestat the Vampire, because (get this) Rick the children’s Pizza Place guy was MARRIED!!!  Fiona Shrek was having an affair with a married pizza restaurant manager.  As I looked at him in disbelief he continued to tell me that for five months this affair went on.  He had agreed to take care of the kids while Fiona went out to get porked by Rick the married pizza parlor manager.  Then he told me that his wife must have felt bad about this because she was trolling me on the internet to find my number.  She knew he had been seeing me when they had agreed to separate while they were expecting their second child, remember that?

He said she would find random women with my first and last name give him phone numbers she thought might me mine so he could call me.  It was like the bitch was giving him permission so see me because she had a distraction and didn’t want him to give her any shit about it I suppose.  One night they were in the middle of having an argument and she approached him with yet another name and number in hand, he said that he eventually blew up at her, because after all I had a boyfriend at the time and he yelled at her saying “What the fuck am I supposed to do with this!?  You made me come back because you said we’d raise the kids together and that’s what I did.  I gave up a relationship with someone I actually cared about to come back here and deal with you and your bullshit and now your giving me permission to call her?  She’s probably married or moved away so what the FUCK do you want me to do with this?!?!?!”  He said the look she gave him was of actual surprise and shock, that she acted confused (acting confused? really? this was her perpetual state of mind) and that she responded to him with “you cared about her? I thought you came back because you wanted to try and make our marriage work?”  I mean how the hell can you actually say this to your husband while you’re having an affair with a married man yourself?  How hypocritical is this broad really?

It seemed strange that after our relationship implosion, and his faux reconciliation with her and he “allowed” her to have a boyfriend while they were married.  He mentioned to me that had we been still seeing each other maybe the outcome would have been different.  And I asked him what he meant by that.  He said that if he and I had been together at the time her having a kids pizza place manager boyfriend, he would have been able to see me openly.  Now I know that this was nothing but emotional manipulation from this emotional vampire and his wife would have reneged on any kind of agreement when she began to see how serious we might have become.  I told him that the minute that that pizza joint manager found out what a true idiot his wife was, he’d leave her because he’d just get bored like Lestat had become with this insipid woman.  And then she’d demand for him to stop seeing me and he would have done it because she kept his balls in her purse.  Of course he didn’t like that but emotional vampires usually don’t like it when you use their own tactics against them or tell them the truth.

Yeah I’m still confused about this myself but this is what he told me, not that I believe him now because as I mentioned he’s a fucking emotional sucking liar.  So I don’t know exactly how much of this part of his explanation is true but it doesn’t matter because this happened about thirteen years into our off and on, dysfunctional relationship and at the time I was with someone else (even though it was Waldo, yuck).  Maybe it was fate that was making him go through this particular emotional upheaval because of everything he made me go through, who knows.  I mean Fiona knew he was dating me when they were separated because they had agreed to separate even if she was pregnant.  We’d never really seen each other (Fiona and I) and that was fine with me because what I had imagined she looked like and what she really looked like was going to keep me wondering even more about why he hadn’t divorced her stupid ass.

After about fifteen years with Lestat, I began to wonder about this woman he refused to divorce.  Actually I never asked him to divorce her because he told me way back in the past (you remember when he told me he never promised me anything or would never fight for me?) he’d leave her when his kids were out of high school, that wasn’t a promise, right?  But that wasn’t entirely why I never pressured him.  Even after all the years he spend dragging my heart around I not once did what other women might have done and that was to confront his wife about us.  Why didn’t I?  Because back then I was too in love to jeopardize the dysfunctional balance of the warped relationship we had.  I could have, I knew where she worked and lived, I knew her private and work emails as well as her cell phone and work numbers.  I also knew where her parents lived and their home phone number as well.  I know I sound like a delusional stalker but I came across all of this information because of Lestat.  Not because I was trolling her on the internet or shit like that.

He, without realizing it would inadvertently give me important information like that and I remembered every single piece of it.  He’d always complain about having to go to his in-laws house to fix things for them, or spend holidays with them.  He voiced how he hated interacting with them, but he justified this as “they’re my kid’s grandparents and they have taken really good care of my children that’s why I do it.”  Which to me was another load of pure bullshit because even though my in-laws were good to my boys, after I separated from my ex-husband I refused to interact with my monster-in-law because she was a domineering, controlling, emotional manipulating bitch who used religion to justify her attitude.  But then again, I realize now I have more balls than Lestat does in this special case.  He was “acting” like the perfect father and husband.  I refused to act for anyone even my boys, it makes me feel like a hypocrite, but that’s just me.

One day the curiosity got the best of me and I found myself looking at her Facebook page and I saw a picture of her and her mother.  She was nothing like what I imagined her to be, because the younger me, the one that had met Lestat when I was twenty-nine and he was thirty-six, that me actually felt bad for her.  That’s right, I felt bad for that Fiona Shrek looking bitch, and yes I know that we’re not supposed to judge but I’ll explain why I formed this opinion of her.  The picture I found was nowhere what I imaged her to look like.  Because I knew her husband exceptionally well (probably better than she ever had) I just assumed that she’d be this tall, gorgeous looking blonde woman who looked more like Christie Brinkley, not Fiona Shrek.

Instead she turned out to be this short, fat woman with thick glasses a lazy eye, or mild ptosis (you know what the actor Forest Whitaker has going on with his eye) and a huge muffin top and the worst sense of fashion a woman can possibly have.  She also had colored her hair a fake blonde, I could tell because her roots were showing in the picture and the bitch is definitely a brunette.   She smiled happily in the picture with the ugly woman beside her that I would eventually find out was her mother (who had unbelievably huge man hands, I mean they look like fucking claws for god-sake) the apple didn’t fall from the tree in this genetic gene pool and hit every ugly stick on the way down, for both of them.  They both had that all gum, horse tooth smile that is more gum than teeth and is very unsettlingly creepy to look at.  At the time she was a fourth grade English teacher and she wore a lot of denim, and I mean a lot of denim that mainly consisted of vests and long, ankle length skirts with dozens of iron on appliques that had sequence and/or lace and shit on it.

I stared in amazement at this picture of his wife I said out loud “well no wonder he has me in his life”.  She wore ugly sensible shoes, even (dare I say it) Crocs, ewww, just writing this I want to throw up.   I suppose that my opinion of her is quite judgmental but there isn’t really any other way to see her.  I had the man I thought I wanted at the time, and he decided to go back to her so they could “raise” their kids together and this left me where?  I had asked him how in the hell he found her attractive, and he didn’t respond.  He just sat there and stared at me, then I said “Oh well you know what they say?  You can’t polish a turd.”

I found myself still in love with a stupid, selfish man who wanted to have his cake and eat it to, to have the best of both worlds.  Little did he know that’s not how this works and it seemed that he did wind up getting everything he wanted in the end.  But Karma is a bitch and she has plans for men like Lestat and women like his wife and in turn I suppose for me as well.  All I had to do was sit back and watch their false marriage implode or help it along with emotional munitions like confronting her with all the information about our fifteen year affair.  Because before her affair with Rick the Married Children’s Pizza Place manager, she believed that he went back to her to “work” on their marriage.  I really should have been angry at him rather than her, but I saw her as “the” reason why he decided to end our relationship and go back home to a marriage he said was already beyond repair.  But he really didn’t end our relationship did he?  No he continued to keep me hidden in the shadows of his life, and I allowed him to do so.

After I found out what she looked like, I tried to image how in the fuck he wound up marrying this woman since she seemed so far removed from what he said he was attracted to or what he liked.  Then one day he told me.  Stay tuned for part seven….


Charming, Part 5……..Just Because You have a College Education, doesn’t Mean Your Smart.

“Here’s all you need to know about men and women: Women are crazy, men are stupid. And the main reason women are crazy is that men are stupid” -George Carlin                                                                                              

George Carlin’s theory has some merit, but let me just say not all men are stupid.  I thought I’d throw that in there before I begin this part of my story.  Speaking of stupid men, during one of the separations with Lestat, I had begun to date someone else (yeah hard to imagine since my Lestat was always addictively lurking in the background of my life).  But this “new” guy was, by far, definitely NOT Prince Charming.  Oh hell to the no he wasn’t, actually the tables turned with this relationship and I became Charming for this emotionally weak, arrogant, self-absorbed asshole.  And the thing was, he had all the traits of an emotional vampire, all but that is, the looks.  Okay, I have already mentioned that looks are not something anyone should be judged on, and I told myself I would give this guy a chance in spite of his dull, boring and unbelievable arrogance.  This guy was what I like to call the old “bait and switch” of men.  They come off as a normal guy with normal traits, they put on a show for you and just when you think you are secure and comfortable with the relationship BAM, they fucking changing into who they really are.  The old bait and switch, it’s horrible and I know some of you know exactly what I’m talking about.

This guy whom I’ll call Waldo (because I can’t think of a more idiotic name for him without using his real name and I don’t want to get sued).  Waldo was not a guy I’d normally be attracted to, he was NOTHING like what I thought my “type” was.  Okay what I thought my type was what Lestat was/is, tall (6’1) dark, intelligent, ruggedly handsome, honey colored eyes, huge………biceps (get your mind out of the gutter people!) a gorgeous smile with dimples to match and rough, hardworking hands and a kiss that would melt Cinderella’s glass slippers off.  But not this guy, this one was by all means a dud, and how did I wind up with this idiot?  Well I suppose I was so desperate to date someone else I didn’t care who, and as I mentioned before I fell victim to the old bait and switch, which didn’t happened until I was a bit farther in than I’d like to admit.  So during one of my many breakups from Lestat I had actually actively begun to look for a “real” boyfriend.  What I found was Waldo, and I ran smack dab into the dull, boring wall that was/is his personality (he’s still dull there’s no changing that….ever).

I met this idiot at work, we wound up working together in the same department at UTEP.  He was a short, balding (who somehow thought that if he used enough hair mousse no one would notice the extremely thinning hair, so thin you could see the acne on his awful scalp, yuk) middle aged man with thick glasses, all of 5’4 (my height which in the world of me is extremely short) no conversational skills whatsoever, as a matter of fact he had NO personality at all.  I mean this guy probably knew he had no personality so therefore was so full of himself to make up for that shortcoming.  Because the dick suffered from sleep apnea and his sinuses were clogged (I mean perpetually clogged) and when he spoke he mumbled.   I strained to have conversations with him over the phone because he wouldn’t speak up even though I had my volume at its highest setting.  Then of course that’s when I realized it was dull Waldo not my precious iPhone.  He also had the most immature sense of humor and the most annoying laugh I’d ever heard, and this fucker was three years older than I was at the time.

Now this guy had a formal education and Lestat didn’t but that didn’t mean that Lestat was uneducated or dumb, because he was not.  He may not have a bachelors but he was educated in the way of life and business.  He was/is a licensed electrician, plumber and HVAC. We talked about politics, construction, books, movies the news I mean we could talk about literally anything.  Waldo on the other hand had to make up shit to make himself look good because physically he was doomed.  Let’s just say he was a legend in his own mind, because in real life he was more of a sidekick or hunchback character.  Even though he was formally educated, and he cemented the notion in my mind that not everyone that gets a Masters or PhD is smart or intelligent.  They only have a degree and didn’t actually absorb their education, they only have a piece of paper that they can hang on their wall and smugly point to it in order to assert their self-imagined superiority to others. This was Waldo and when I was “dating” him he was at the tail end of getting his PhD or EdD, which is different than a PhD, in any case he was wrapping up his doctoral degree.  One day, we were having a conversation in which he decided to annoyingly correcting everything I was saying, you know to “educate” me, because he “thought” I needed it.

If you think about it, one shouldn’t do things like that to a Latina woman (no it’s not a stereotype it’s a fact) especially if she’s educated and probably knows more than you do even if she only has a bachelor’s degree to your EdD motherfucker.  So this conversation was getting to the point of all out “oh no you didn’t go there asshole and let me tell you why!”  But I kept my temper in check, then after the fifteen thousandth time, I finally said “Look I get that you are trying to so-call educate me on shit you think I should know.  But let me give you some pointers, don’t fucking do that, not to me and let me tell you why.  You shouldn’t do that especially when the woman you’re trying to educate with your annoying, nasally whine can actually change the oil and cabin filter on your fucking truck because you couldn’t find the goddamn YouTube video for it!” and then something happened, something I never thought I’d ever see and that was……I had made a man cry.

Yep, this bait and switch male dud was not only an imposter, he was probably the biggest pussy I had ever met (pardon my French).  Okay I realize that too is a stereotype that men should always be strong and the most important thing they can poses is their masculinity, so let’s get this straight, for the record I don’t think there is anything wrong with a man crying.  But when that man cries constantly and shrivels up into the fetal position on the floor, yeah that’s a bit much for any woman to take (yes he really did cry a lot and curl up into the fetal position…..I mean ALL THE FUCKING TIME!).  Especially since I had become the man in the relationship and I was fed up with trying to make this insecure man feel better about himself because he believed the entire world had it in for him.

When one is in a relationship I strongly believe it is a two way street, and that means giving a little and your partner should as well, to meet in the middle in this relationship you are both in.  So during this horrid ten month relationship I had emergency surgery because I had suffered from severe endometriosis.  Excruciating pain coming from within a woman’s baby baring parts that is pain on a monthly basis that would kill a grizzly bear!  I wouldn’t wish this on anyone (okay that’s not true I do have a mean streak and I’d wish this on the people I hate, to suffer day after day with no relief in sight).

Anyway I was told by my physician that since I didn’t plan on having any more children that it would be best for him to perform an emergency hysterectomy.  I agreed, as a matter of fact I asked him when he could yank this betraying part of me out so I could live in peace.  He arranged for my surgery to happen the following day.  So I went to check into the hospital and where was Waldo?  I don’t know because he didn’t answer his goddamned phone.  We had been fighting and he’d been standoffish since I made him cry.  So my two youngest sons took me to the hospital the next day at 4:30am for the pre-surgery routine.  My OBGYN who is “the” best OBGYN ever came in and talked to me and he introduced the anesthesiologist and told me we’d be done in about an hour and fifteen minutes.  I said “cool, where are the drugs I want the drugs” and then the anesthesiologist told me he was going to use Propofol as he stood there with a huge syringe he was going to inject into my IV.

I said “Whoa, whoa, whoa….isn’t that the drug that killed Michael Jackson?”  He said “yes but that was in extremely high dosage, and also an extreme situation.  Used properly it will only put you to sleep for a couple of hours.  It’s perfectly safe.”  Now mind you I probably wouldn’t have let him put that shit into my IV but he had the most piecing blue eyes I’d ever seen.  So I let him…..yeah I know it was probably Prince Charming in disguise, again.  Only I couldn’t see the rest of his face because he was wearing a surgical mask and within a couple of seconds after he put the drug into my IV, I was being wheeled into the operating room.  My middle son walked with me until my doctor told him to talk to me because I was going in.  My son took his hand and rubbed by forehead and said “I love you mom, and we’ll be right here when you wake up.” As I was going under all I could manage was a nod of my head acknowledging his comment.  Then as we walked away he asked “So you have life insurance right mom?  And by the way, who gets your car?”  As he laughed.  Now to many this may sound cold and callus but my boys are all (and I do mean all) sarcastic in nature.  I also know their sense of humor, and he said that knowing I couldn’t respond with my usual middle finger gesture as I was being wheeled away into an operating room with a huge painted clock on the ceiling.

My doctor stood over me and caressed my forehead and said he was going to take good care of me so I shouldn’t worry.  I trusted him completely, probably the only man that I did trust totally and with my life no less.  He asked me to look at the huge clock on the ceiling and count from one-hundred backwards.  All I heard myself say was…….ninety-nine and then I was out.  When I was being awoken by my doctor in recovery, he told me that I did great, I mean as great as a woman who was going to have her betraying body part pulverized by a microscopic laser.  In any case I was only going to be there overnight for observation and after I was taken to my hospital room.  I sent Waldo a text to tell him I was going to be in the hospital overnight should the motherfucker decide to go and visit me.

I got no answer, but by this time I was sure this was the end and I had this sense of overwhelming relief that I would be getting rid of this asshole within a couple of hours.  The nurse brought me my lunch and as she helped me sit up in bed, at that moment my hospital room door opened and just like in the movies I looked up and there stood the handsome Lestat.  His 6”1 tall frame, he smiled and his beautiful dimples showed themselves and his cologne wafted into my room.  The nurse positioned the bed tray next to me and walked out.  He came in holding a small bunch of flowers and asked if he could come in.  I said yes, and he walked over beside me and sat down.  He handed me the flowers and smiled and said “Are you okay?  Are you in any pain?”  I told him I was not, that my doctor was awesome and I was only sore due to that fucking catheter I had shoved up my hoo-ha.  He got up and gently brushed the hair from my eyes away and kissed my forehead.  And there is it was, the Charming effect once again took hold and I fell for it again.

This reminded me of those angels from the series Dr. Who, those concrete statues that are usually found in cemeteries and graveyards. They get closer and closer but only if you blink.  They are usually covering their eyes as if they’re crying, but in Dr. Who, if you blink and look they reveal their face and usually have fangs and are grotesque.  As long as you keep staring at them they can’t change, get closer or reveal their face.  But the minute you blink *BAM* they touch you and your sent into another time and place.  Which is what happened when Lestat came into my hospital room and kissed my forehead.  I was sent back into a time when I felt love and affection for him in spite of knowing better, there was no fighting the Weeping Angel in my hospital room.

Even though Lestat was there when my so-called idiot boyfriend wasn’t, the fact that Lestat not once fell on the floor and cried in the fetal position….NOT ONCE, made me rethink being with Waldo the Human Bore.  I allowed him back into my life and proceeded to tell Waldo to go straight to hell because the asshole couldn’t bother himself with finding out if I had come through this surgery okay.  No, that prick was finalizing his dissertation and used that as an excuse as to why he didn’t respond to my texts.  What I got was “I did think about you and I wondered if I should go visit you at Providence Hospital, room number 418, but didn’t know if you wanted me there.”  Now the fact that he told me this like it was some sort of confirmation that he knew where I was at and what room I was in made me think he thought I’d actually acknowledge his feigning concern.  Which pissed me off and it was all I could take and I finally told him to go to hell, but not before the motherfucker decided that I had ruined his Doctoral graduation ceremony.

He was texting me to tell me that I had emotionally manipulated him and that I had ruined his graduation.  As a strong Hispanic woman, I thought to myself, I can’t believe this asshole.  I mean I was probably still high on whatever meds they gave me because I thought to myself this prick has no idea how lucky he is to have someone like me in his life.  And he’s trying to blame me for his inadequacies?! I laughed to myself but not before I blocked his stupid ass, oh but before I did, I sent him a text to tell him to fucking grow a pair of balls and to accept that the world didn’t owe him a damned thing, that he needed to go out and earn it for himself.  I also called him a human sized pussy (because let’s face it the dude was or should I say dud?) and that’s when I blocked him.  I was lying in bed at the hospital staring at the flowers that Lestat had brought me, and as I lay there I imagined this idiot in his cap and gown falling onto the floor in the isle of where he sat, fetal position and all crying like a baby at reading my text.  Okay the likelihood of that happening was small but I’m pretty sure it upset him enough he cried, he always cried, ALWAYS.

I’m going to elaborate on Waldo, because this dude really needs a lot of elaboration to explain just what an idiot he was (or is).  The prick couldn’t do anything, and I do mean ANYTHING.  He didn’t know how to work on his truck, or cook, or even bother to offer to help when he’d come over to my house.  Like the day he came over to my house and I was cleaning my garage, I was pushing boxes outside and sorting out things I was going to throw in the trash from stuff I was going to donate to the Goodwill and what did this useless asshole do? He pulled down the tailgate to his truck to watch me work instead of offering to help me.  My father always said that a man will always help out his women in any and every way.  I was use to men that knew how to do stuff, like fix their cars or trucks and be handy around the house, you know change a light bulb, grout the tub, fix the washing machine, put up a ceiling fan.  But this useless jerk didn’t know how to do anything, I mean other than being annoyingly pompous.  I knew how to do all of the things he didn’t and like I said I had changed the cabin filter on his truck when he couldn’t find where it was.  He was basically a good for nothing, unless of course he was playing basketball.  But I’m not sure that wasn’t the truth either.  He would always brag about how good he was at basketball and football when he was in high school.

He was like the Hispanic version of the Uncle Rico character from the movie Napoleon Dynamite, living in the past through his own delusional memories, when he “thought” he was good, he probably sucked then too.  Because if you have to look to your youth to build yourself up, because you can’t find anything worthwhile in your adult life to say about yourself, you’ve reached an entirely new level of “suckedom.”  But in “real life” he was totally inept as a boyfriend, as a man and professionally.  Did I mention that he had no manners whatsoever?  Waldo had the amazing ability to sit and eat a meal and miss his mouth entirely every single fucking time, which made having meals with the fucker aggravating.

His clothes were always stained on the front because there were bits of food running down them, way to go “Dr” Waldo.  He had a black jacket that he used during the winter that was absolutely dirty, I mean DIRTY with food or whatever streaked down the front of it, it was absolutely nauseating.  One would think that the motherfucker would be smart enough to wash his jacket before (or at any time actually) putting it away for the summer, right?  Don’t even get me started on his goddamned neckties.  Another of his annoying habits, and by far the most disgusting was that Waldo would use the men’s room and the imbecile would NOT WASH HIS HANDS! How do I know this?  It doesn’t take a genius to time someone when they use the bathroom.  We worked in an old building that at one point were dorm rooms, and they had remodeled them into offices and every two offices shared one bathroom.  When I’d be in his office, he’d excuse himself to go to the bathroom (to be clear everyone could hear when someone was in these bathrooms) and the gross asshole would pee, flush and walk back out into his office.  I stopped holding his hand and letting him touch anything of mine after this disgusting revelation.

I mentioned this to him and he got mad, he actually got angry because he accused me of “spying” on him.  I think I gave him the biggest eye roll I could and walked out of his office.  After that if he’d touch anything on my desk, I’d promptly wipe it down with a Clorox wipe. And yet this creep was still offended, I mean come the fuck on!?!  After we broke up I left the department and somehow he wound up working with one of my friends in another department.  I told her to be careful and not allow this prick to touch any food or help out or volunteer if it meant he had to help set up for a luncheon, or office party of any sort because of the disgusting habit he had.  She made it a point to let everyone know and she said everyone stayed away from any food he bought or prepared.

All of those hideous attributes compiled with the fact that he believed he was smarter than everyone else was all I could take, so bye-bye Waldo.  It’s safe to say that this guy was definitely NOT Prince Charming, not anywhere close to being that Charming dude, who was still missing at that point in my life by the way.  And how I dated this knuckle dragging, mouth missing, bathroom using, no hand washing PhD for ten months is beyond me too, it was definitely a relationship regret, abso-fucking-lutely.    Stay tuned for part six….


Charming Part 4….The Emotional Vampire Disguised as Prince Charming

The bigger issues by far outweighed the small stuff.  Being taken for granted is something we don’t think will happen to us.  But in reality sometimes we don’t even notice that we’re being taken for granted until after the fact.  That’s exactly what happened to me, I didn’t realize it until years later or after the emotional manipulation had subsided for a bit. For instance after about five or six years together pull he’d pull the “I’ll meet you after work for dinner or a drink” and then keep me waiting for literally hours without answering his cell phone.  Once while driving what felt like thousands of miles, my car began to give me problems on I-10.  I was stuck on the interstate with my blinkers on, and the motherfucker passed right by me.  Didn’t answer his fucking phone and didn’t recognize it was me stalled on the side of the highway.

He claimed he’d “forget” to call me and he’d head straight home to his wife and kids and then proceed to call me to half-heartedly apologize the next morning.  This happened a lot, and with each bout of uncontrollable rage at his constant dismissal of my feelings, I would hear his apologetic voice the next day and my stupid heart would melt and I’d forgive him, yet again.   But it got worse before I realized he was an emotional vampire, way worse.  But not before I gave into his requests for things he said he was missing at home.  He had all these sexual fantasies that were somehow stifled by his wife’s Catholic beliefs.  She didn’t believe in having sex other than for procreation, so they must have had sex only twice because the motherfucker only had two kids.  And from what I knew about him, he was extremely sexual which is what attracted me to him in the first place, then I fell in love with the bastard.

(By the way, Lestat doesn’t look in anyway like the vampire Colin Farrell portrayed in the remake of Fright Night.  He (Robert) looks more like Dan Marino, but I couldn’t find an image of a Dan Marino looking vampire.  Besides who doesn’t want to look at Colin Farrell?)

I mean physical attraction is the very first thing we all see or feel, it’s not like we walk around wondering “hey, that guy looks really smart and intelligent just look at the size of his briefcase, I’d really like to get to know him, grrrr.” As stereotypical as it sounds, it’s the fucking truth, of course that can backfire on us until after we get to know the great looking guy or girl we met at the bar the night before.  As soon as the newness and excitement of the one night stand is over we start to hear him or her talk and realize there is no intellectual depth in this person whatsoever. Then the air in their heads has become excruciating low while they are trying to find out what the Kardashian’s are up to and you try to leave without them noticing.

Because he had voiced his fantasies to me and his lack of sex with his idiot wife (not judging, I know this to be true, and I will explain a bit later) I gave into him and his requests for adventurous sex.  Which believe it or not I would come to regret, but only after about fifteen years or so and that too I will explain later.  In any case I did whatever he asked of my sexually thinking this would make him see that I love him enough to do all the things his wife wouldn’t.  I believed that he’d see that because I complied with him and what he asked he’d love me even more.  I should have seen that overall I gave more than the woman whom carried his last name, I gave way more of myself to him in every aspect, and I got very little in return from him.  I just didn’t see it then and that made for some very poor decisions on my part.

Of course it was that I was being manipulated because he played on the fact that I would tell him I loved him so much, much more than he needed to know.  Emotional vampires live for this shit, they want to be the center of your life but won’t give up theirs in order for you to be the center of theirs.  I told him every chance I got that he was the love of my life and I could not live without him and I would wait forever for him.  Bad move for you to profess your love and devotion to an emotional vampire, not a normal person.  Because a normal person will tell you how they feel in response and if they truly love you, they will profess their love just as strongly as you feel for them.  But not Lestat, he knew exactly how to play on my emotional ties to him, and used my love against me in the most cruel and callus ways imaginable.  One particular time when we had planned to go to Ruidoso NM for the weekend and it turned bad, really bad.  I was working at a property management company at the time and I had become friends with one of the IT guys who was my age and we got along really well.  Lestat’s jealousy mirrored his faux caring and kindness, it was, at times so uncontrollable that he would be blinded by that one emotion and nothing else. And like all emotional vampires remorse would set in shortly thereafter, but only for a little while.  That day he said that he wouldn’t be able to meet me to leave on our trip until about six o’clock so I told him that I would go with some friends from work to Applebee’s to have a drink, and then we’d meet at my workplace so I could leave my car in the gated parking lot, we were driving up to Ruidoso in his truck.

So he said okay, and for me to call him when I was done.  So off I went with my friends from work which included my male friend, we’ll call him Rudy for this story.  So there we were, five women and Rudy, and we had a couple of drinks, laughing and enjoying ourselves.  I looked at my watch and said I had to leave, everyone else agreed and we all walked out at the same time.  We got to where our cars were parked and coincidentally Rudy and I had parked next to each other, all six of us hugged and said we’d see each other on Monday morning.  Rudy walked with me because he was parked right next to me.  He hugged me and kissed me on the cheek and I got into my car and drove away.

I called my Lestat and he didn’t answer, so I called him again and again and again.  For an hour I called him and he wouldn’t answer and I began to wonder if he might still be stuck at home.  It was coming on nine o’clock and I began to worry even more.  I parked at the K-Mart on Montana Ave near Airway Boulevard and by this time I was crying, calling him leaving message after message for him to please call me.  I resolved to finally go home, and by home I mean my parent’s house, I was living with them since my divorce.  As I drove down I-10 headed east, I continued to call his cell phone and leave hysterically pleading messages for him to call me.  Finally as I got to the Clint exit off I-10 he answered and for a split second I felt relief, of course that was short lived.  I asked him why he hadn’t answered and the motherfucker said “because I didn’t want to!”

I was like, what the fuck?!  His response definitely caught me off guard (although it shouldn’t have) He continued to explain saying that he had been in the parking lot of Applebee’s and had seen me walk out with Rudy.  Never mind that there were four other people there but I suppose blind jealousy can make one see in tunnel vision.  He proceeded to tell me what he saw, ever mind that what he saw as all in his mind, not what really happened.  He editorialized that the quick hug with Rudy was a lingering and deeply seductive embrace (no he didn’t use those words but that is how he made it sound) and that the quick kiss on the cheek was a deep French kiss that lasted hours and that Rudy and I practically had sex on the hood of his black Mustang.  I was taken completely by surprise at what was coming out of his mouth, and as I tried to compose myself through the emotional distress and tears, I asked him if he had changed his mind about our trip.  He mockingly laughed and said “I’m not going anywhere with you, you fucking whore!” and hung up the phone.  There it was, it had finally backfired on me and everything that I had done to fulfil his sexual fantasies and needs because I loved him so much had reduced me to nothing but a whore.

I pulled into the gas station right off of the Clint exit and cried hysterically for ten minutes and all the while I kept calling him back hoping he’d answer so I could try to explain what he has seen in the parking lot was innocent.  Yes, I know he didn’t deserve any explanation but I was in love and desperate to keep him in my life, I was still stupidly blinded by the Charming effect.  After ten or eleven calls with no answer, I rifled through my purse to try and find a tissue or napkin, something to wipe away all the tears and runny mascara from my face.  I looked in the rear view mirror and my face was red and swollen from the crying.  I looked horrible and felt it too. In doing so, I came across a white envelope next to my wallet, as I wiped my tears away with a McDonald’s napkin I realize what was in this envelope. You see, he had given me the money for the trip that morning when we had met for coffee, it was about fifteen hundred dollars in CASH.  That’s right the motherfucking emotional vampire had given me the trip money to hold.

I wiped my face as clean as I could and I put my 1998 Ford Escort into drive and got onto I-10 as fast as it could go and drove myself into El Paso. I drove around until I found myself a very nice hotel with a hot tub and a pool to stay at.  Even with the financial good fortune I found myself in you’d think I’d stop trying to contact him right?  Wrong, as soon as I got situated in my hotel room I (stupidly) kept calling his cell phone.  Throughout the night I called his phone over a hundred times, then about four o’clock in the morning I finally fell asleep, my face swollen from crying.  Emotionally drained I slept, okay it was more passing out because I was so tired and then I caught a glimpse of myself in the decorative mirror above the sofa and almost died of fright, so I said fuck it, I’m going to bed.

Before I passed out, I did what was probably THE bravest thing I had done to that point in my relationship, I turned off my cell phone.  Something had snapped during my psycho-emotional cry-fest that made me think, if he’s not going to at least have the courtesy of answering, even if it was to tell me to stop calling him, I wasn’t going to leave my phone on so he could try and call me the next day when I knew he’d have calmed down enough to talk rationally.   Then I fell into a deep and silent sleep, I didn’t even dream that night or what was left of the night.  I slept so soundly I didn’t wake up until about twelve thirty the next day, and that was because I was awoken by the loud bang on my hotel room door.

I thought, what the fuck housekeeping can’t see the do not disturb sign?!?  I got up still half asleep and stumbled my way to the door, passing that huge mirror above the couch again and grunting loudly at my still swollen face and wondering why the fuck my head hurt so much if I hadn’t consumed alcohol the night before.  I didn’t even look through the peephole and opened the door only to find my fucking asshole of an emotional vampire boyfriend standing in the doorway.  How the hell he found me is beyond me.  He must have driven around all night (after I had stopped calling him and turned off my phone) to all the hotels where he thought I might be.  I mean after he drove down to San Eli past my parents’ house only to see that my car wasn’t in the drive way at four in the morning (I knew him very, very well).

He stood there, looking towards the ground and I tried to close the door on him and he held it with his free hand (he had a beverage holder with two cups of coffee in the other) and I tried to close it again and he asked me to please let him in.  So I fucking did, and he put the coffee’s down on the table next to the door as I tried to walk away into the bathroom to wash my still swollen face.  He grabbed me and put his arms around my waist and just held me.  I thought to myself this asshole is frisking me for the envelope full of vacation money (yes that really did go through my head, get off my Kool-Aid I was tired, sleep deprived and still in love).  I told him I had to go and wash up and he kissed me and said he was sorry.  I told him I didn’t do anything wrong and that he should be fucking sorry and his eyes got wide and a look of surprise came across his face and that’s when I knew I had hit a nerve.  An emotional nerve that said, I know where your weak spot is in that façade of faux Charming armor is and I will use it to emotionally stab your ass if you treat me bad again!  This was the first time I had EVER displayed any kind of rebellion or independence to him.

He apologized again and I went to take a shower and we spent the rest of the weekend in the hotel room only coming out for food.  But that weekend was definitely a turning point, I would bring this incident up again and he’d deny ever calling me a whore and I told him never to deny it again because he said it and it would be the last time he’d use that word to describe me, ever.  That day I found the strength I would need to finally begin breaking away from this married asshole, emotionally manipulative vampire and the knowledge I gained from that point on would be a great defense and that’s when the tables began to turn.  So much so that we actually began to switch roles in our relationship and I didn’t even know it at the time.

No not that I became emotionally manipulative, I still loved him too much (at the time) to do that.  That would come much, much later in our relationship.  Hey, when you’re involved with an emotional vampire what happens?  They turn you, just like Lestat did in an Interview with a Vampire, Tom Cruise turned Brad Pitt, and when Brad finally found the strength to leave what happened?  Lestat hunted him and Claudia down in a creepy, stalker kind of way until he found them.  So what happened to me?  Lestat the Emotional Vampire turned me, but not into what he was, he turned me into something different, let me explain.

During our relationship, I had gotten a job at UTEP, where I learned the ins and outs of working in higher education.  Then I actually got my higher education, I went to school full time while also working full time as well as being a single mother of three boys who were all having growing pains of their own.  It took me more time than usual to graduate but I did it, I got my Bachelors in the winter of 2013.  I had begun to find my own way because as previously mentioned, Prince Charming was still M.I.A for all accounts and purposes.  And I figured that I was still emotionally invested with Lestat, I needed to start to change, even it if was in small ways.  Lestat and I would break up often, one of my friends mentioned that we were like Carrie and Mr. Big from Sex and the City, we broke up a lot (I do mean a lot).  And sometimes during our breakups, which at this point would only last a couple of months I would actually date other guys. Stay tuned for part five…….


Charming Part 3, This shit just got real…..

Forever actually became more of a reality than a theory and I found myself still waiting even after he told me he’d get a divorce after his two kids graduated high school.  Can you believe that?  I mean at this point in my life his kids were five and a year old!  Wait until they graduate, I thought to myself this asshole is crazy.  Fast forward eighteen years later, still no divorce, no plans for us to be together and he (they) decided to buy a house near his kids in San Antonio when they carted off his daughter to UT San Antonio.  Some of you may actually think that my waiting for him was stupid, it was.  But again judging someone for their actions without knowing firsthand what their situations are is usually very, um how can I put this, it’s very throwing stones while living in glass houses type of hypocrisy.  So put your stones back in your silk purse ladies before you decide that you’ve lived a pious and sin free life before judging others for their decisions in life.   Why do I say this?  Because I too have been one to judge before knowing the actual truth about someone or something.  We’ve all done it, we’re human but sometimes there are people, particularly women, who feel the need to make other women feel like they aren’t living up to whatever fucked up image or standard they have in their own fucked up minds.

It’s kind of the adult version of being bullied, and women are definitely the worst at this.  Even as adults we tend to be extremely critical of our own gender when it comes to fashion, parenting, careers, education, friendships and of course, personal relationships.  Status is a kind of thing we use to gauge success on every level, and it’s wrong.  But let me continue before I get off track here, back to the emotional vampire I called a boyfriend, I’m going to call him Lestat ( even though his name is Robert).  Looking back now, for the first ten years of our “relationship” he was very manipulative and I let him because I was convinced I loved him.  Why?  Because I honestly believed he was Prince Charming and that he would eventually come around because he told me he loved me too.

Boy was that stupid, along with his professions of “love” he also threw in there the “I never promised you anything” and “I won’t ever fight for you.” This emotional type of affirmation was all for him, not me, these words actually made him believe that he would be absolved of any responsibly or commitment whatsoever in our relationship.  It’s a trick that obsessive-compulsive emotional vampires use to get their way without making it seem that their getting their way.  In any case in the first decade of our relationship I bent over backwards to give him anything and everything he wanted.  And what did I get in return?  Not a fucking thing!  He automatically assumed that I would do anything and wait around no matter how long because he knew I loved him.

And, yes I did and yes it was stupid but I was blinded by the image of Prince Charming (yeah that guy again, where the fuck was he and why didn’t he rescue me from this guy?) and I held this man to that image, whom I was convinced that he was the greatest love of my life.  In spite of the emotional manipulation I never once saw this man for what he really was, a liar and a cheat because for the first decade of our relationship he gave me a few small gems of happiness.  And I was happy with that, of course looking back now I say to myself “what in the FUCK were you thinking?  I mean really the man is the stereotypical asshole disguised as a good guy.”  And he was (is) when he pretended to be that Charming guy he did it well and I believed him.  He played the part to the tee, and I took in every single drop of it.

He’d rent hotel rooms for us to spend some weekends at, he did what I believed to be one of the most romantic things I believed he could do, pay attention to what I liked and didn’t like.  Once when we went into Juarez (ahem, before it was considered the most violent city and the murder capital of the world, I wouldn’t be caught dead there now, pardon the pun) to have lunch, we had an appetizer of beef soup.  The soup had cilantro in it, for the record I HATE cilantro, it’s probably the most repulsive taste next to liver I can think of.  Yes I know, being Hispanic we should all love cilantro but that’s a fucking stereotype.  Just like everyone thinks that all Hispanics love Mexican music (if rigaton and nortenas had a taste they’d be in the same category as cilantro, I’m just sayin’).

Or that we all LOVE the Mexican flag, we all wear cowboy hats, wear Mexican boots, drink tequila, are raging alcoholics, drive low-riders, smoke weed have cousins that are cholos/cholas (okay that one may be true) or that we all get married at sixteen and have tons of kids and live with our parents until they die so we can inherit their house. Wait, scratch the last one because well, you fucking know why.  But I didn’t live with my parents or have tons of kids……I had three, three boys……

Back to the cilantro in my soup (potential book title? Hmm, maybe) as the waiter brought the bowls of soup to our table and set them down in front of us, my boyfriend said “wow this looks good” and I stared at him and didn’t say anything.  He asked me what was wrong, and I said the soup had cilantro in it, he knew I didn’t like it.  So he took my bowl and put it next to him and with the soup spoon proceeded to take out every single leaf of that soapy tasting weed until none was left in the bowl of hot broth.  I almost cried, no one and I do mean no one had ever done something so personal and caring for me in my life.  That is when I thought, this guy HAS to be Prince Charming why would he do that, right?  Small things like this kept me thinking that he was perfect, that he was going to be “the” one.  I was blinded by the small insignificant gestures when I should have seen the bigger picture of who he really was.  But love makes us stupid and blind, and deaf.  Stay tuned for part four……


What Empty Nest Syndrome? Ya’ll Are Cray-Cray…..

I have three boys or should I say I’m the mother of three grown ass men.  But, in my world they will always be boys.  I call them “boys” when they’re at my house on Sunday afternoons because we get together at least once a week on a Sunday to have Sunday dinner and watch football during football season.  Since I’m a single mom (yes still after 19 years of being divorced) and so I still revert to calling them boys even thought my oldest is 32 years old.  Which brings me to today’s entry.  My oldest lives with me, my other two live on their own.  Well, they live on their own together, they share an apartment.  In any case, my oldest lives with me until he can pay off his car, and hopefully find a better job that pays more so that he can finally move out and let me live alone.

Not that I mind having my eldest son live with me (much) because I love him after all there is a certain je ne sais quoi (aggravation) that he brings to my life on a daily basis.  He was born into a very chaotic world, being the son of teenage parents and we (I, his dad is perpetually 19 years old) grew right along with him.  But living with my son who’s in his early thirties is an adventure (disaster).  He has his father’s characteristics (ugh) so he’s not the easiest going person in the world.  But he has his positive traits, like I can see that although he’s still a responsible adult (living with his mom) he hasn’t lost his childish enthusiasm (warped sense of humor).  On his days off he washes his clothes, cleans his room and the kitchen (sometimes) and his bathroom.  He prepares for the next work day and then he takes some time to rest.  But this morning we had somewhat of a disagreement (argument) about using an entire storage container for what I consider to be an ounce of food.  He has my refrigerator cluttered with food containers that “contain” about two or three teaspoons of food.

Therefore leaving NO room to store other items that need the storage space in my fridge.  As I was about to leave and went to grab my prepared lunch, I opened the door and three containers of food fell to the clean kitchen floor, one of those containers popped its lid and food splatted on the floor and hit the cabinet as well.  Did I mention that it was the container with my lunch? No? well it was, and as I yelled out in frustration he came running out of the bathroom in his towel and said “What happened?” as I stood there pointing at the three plastic containers on the floor with one oozing out my spaghetti and meatball lunch.  I told him that he needed to clean out the f***ng fridge when he got home this afternoon and throw away anything he wasn’t going to eat and that only had a tiny bit of food in it.  He looked at me and said “You know, we’re throwing away food, and there are starving people in the world” and I calmly (annoyingly) said to him that what he has saved wouldn’t do much good to anyone.

And then I took out nine, NINE plastic containers from the fridge and left them on the counter and took one with a meatball, ONE f***ng meatball!  I said to him “why didn’t you eat that?  What’s the point of saving one freaking meatball?!?!”  He said “I wasn’t going to throw that way, its wasting food.”  At that moment I looked down and realized that marinara sauce had splattered onto my black suede boots.  I took all the containers and gently put (threw) them into the sink and told him to clean out the fridge and throw all the food in there that’s drying up in the air they share in these storage containers.  Like the ¼ of a pork chop that’s been in there for over two weeks.  He looked at me and said “God mom, you’re so wasteful” and walked away back into the bathroom to dry his hair. As I took a damp cloth to wipe the red splattered sauce from my boot I thought to myself, if I lived alone this wouldn’t have happened.

If I lived alone I’d be able to walk around naked and not worry about anyone (or the cat) seeing me.  Oh, did I mention that my son has a cat?  He and his cat live with their mom (cat nana).  I think I prefer the cat (not really, but yes really) because the cat doesn’t squirrel away bits of cat food under the couch or in the bathtubs (maybe he does who knows he may have tiny containers with one or two bits of cat food, ugh just the thought) even though I love my son to death I am just about ready for him to move on, move out and fill his own fridge with plastic containers of half eaten food that he’ll wind up throwing away no matter how he “thinks” he’s saving food.

But I realize I should cherish this time with him, because once he gets married (not holding my breath) I will see him less and less (crossing fingers).  And that I may only talk to him via phone or text (perfectly fine with me) so I should be more patient (if he had his own place) and less grumpy (it’s my f***ing house) about my son living (taking up space) with me.  Did I mention he has three cars?  And that he’s taken over my garage with most of his workout equipment and boxes and boxes of stuff (crap)?  His three cars are all in my driveway (and the side of my house) and they are all in working order.  I asked him why he felt the need to have three cars (okay two cars and a truck) and he said because he could.  Did I mentioned that I truly love (want to kill) my son?


Part 2…..Prince Charming’s White Horse has a Name, and his Name is Carlos.

When I was twenty-nine I met a man, a wonderfully handsome man whom I believed might be “the” one, “the” Prince Charming. I fell in love for the first time as an adult (or for the first time period I should say) and all I wanted to do was be with this man I loved so very much. Oh, yeah did I mention he was married (he still is, so he didn’t turn out to be Charming either) and please save your judgmental distain for someone else. No one will ever know what I’ve been through until they’ve walked forty-five miles in my stilettoes hauling a very precocious five year old and two pre-teen boys who are tugging and pulling you in every direction but the one you want to go in. It didn’t start out that way, when I met him he had filed for legal separation from his wife. And because I’m the person I am, I went online to make sure he wasn’t lying to me, and made my way through the online county database for El Paso and I found it. Hey, I had to make sure, but did it help? Nope.

Falling in love and dating a married man is not something that any woman sets out to do. I mean it’s not one of our life goals or on our bucket list next to graduating college, going on a cruise or buying those blue satin Manolo Blahnik shoes from the Sex and the City movie. It’s just not something one thinks about when you’re going through it. When you find yourself in a situation like mine, trying to find the moral compass that you know you should follow but is just as elusive as that fucking Charming guy with his mythical white horse everyone says he rides in on. And where does he actually ride in on from? Like does a magic cloud appear at the very moment he decides to “ride” into your life? Or does he actually ride miles and miles from somewhere? But where?! I want to fucking know?! Is there a portal or wormhole that he just rides through and *poof* he’s amazingly at your front door, with his white steed huffing and puffing almost as if to say “Dude next time warn me we’re going to go through that fucking thing and I won’t be caught off guard, okay?”

In any case, the fact that girls grow up to believe that Prince Charming is out there somewhere is a farce, and in a way I’m so glad that I didn’t have daughters because I think I would have been very straight forward had I had a daughter. I would have said to her something like this “So, you know that grandma told you about Prince Charming, but don’t believe her because grandma is bat shit crazy and that Charming dude doesn’t really exist”. But even though I had boys, I have also made sure that they knew that girls/women might hold them up to this false image of what men should be like.
Women who believe this myth expect to be rescued by men whom they’ve been tricked into believing they are their very own version of Prince Charming. And that those expectations may go awry in catastrophic ways. So I’ve said to them when they meet their potential life partner that they tell her “I am not in any way, shape or form a Prince Charming or any sort of likeness thereof. So the sooner you accept that we can move on, by the way my mom told me to tell you that”.

I’m just making sure that my boys cover their asses when it comes to being pigeon holed into this Charming dudes image. I mean I’m not saying that they’re not charming in their own way, of course they are they’re MY boys after all, they’re oozing charm out of every pore because of MY genetic makeup (your welcome boys).  But they are not “the” Prince Charming that every woman thinks is out there and I don’t ever want them to feel the pressure that some women may put on them to be that Charming dude, EVER.

So back to my relationship with my married boyfriend, the thing is when I met him he was in the process of getting a divorce.  I met him where I use to work in at a supply house for electrical, mechanical and general contractors.  I first saw him through the security monitor, and I fell in love instantly.  Tall, dark, handsome and his cologne lingered throughout the sales counter into my office, it was Halston Z-14.  It’s funny the things one remembers about certain moments in their lives.  How was I to know that twenty years later I’d find myself waking up from that Sleeping Beauty phase and realize he was more like the Sheriff of Nottingham in the Kevin Costner movie Robin Hood than Prince Charming?  By the way I just want to mention that I LOVE Alan Rickman in that movie, it was his character that I’m comparing my married boyfriend to.  In any case, back to why I spent twenty years of my life waiting for this indecisive, passive-aggressive, obsessive-compulsive emotional vampire.

Yes that is a long description but it’s better than calling him an emotional sucking self-centered asshole who only thought of himself, right? Again getting involved with a married man wasn’t something I wanted nor liked about myself during this period of my life.  I was convinced wholeheartedly that I loved him and that I would wait forever for him.  Stay tuned for part three……..


Prince Charming Is Dead……I Can Save Myself. A Story of Vampires, Sleeping Beauty and Romantically Created Myths.

Prince Charming Is Dead……I Can Save Myself. A Story of Vampires, Sleeping Beauty and Romantically Created Myths.94b76bf2ce7f2ed471bca089f4174c29

Part 1 = The Beginning of the Mythical Lie

When I was about eight or nine years old I was sitting watching the Lawrence Welk show with my parents and my grandfather (yes one might be able to guess my age by that very comment) and as one of the tall, dark and extremely handsome singers (I think his name was Tom Netherton) came on, my mom commented, “one day, hopefully you’ll meet someone like him and he will marry you and make you so happy”.  As I turned back to the box console television set to stare in total wonder at this very white, good looking, devastatingly handsome man.  I began to wonder if there were men out there that looked exactly like him, a Prince Charming type that every girl like me knew would find them someday and take them away to live happily ever after……….

Of course I was only eight or nine years old what the fuck did I know of love, happily ever after or Prince Charming for that matter.  I could file that comment under, “lies my mother told me” and that file would get bigger and bigger as I got older.  But that one particular one, that one thoughtless comment would stick with me for most of my adult life.  The lie that parents perpetuate to their daughters that there is a Prince Charming for every girl out there is ridiculous!  Stop telling these lies to your daughter’s people!  It’s going to fuck them up in so many ways, especially if they are stupid and naive.  Which let’s face it some of them are, but for those of us who ultimately break the cult like haze of some of the things our parents tell us (mostly our mothers) about that illusive man called “Charming”, we will survive the lie.

Okay for the record not all parents tell their daughters that there is a Prince Charming and that he will ride up to their house, no matter where they live, on a white horse and whisk them away into eternal bliss.  Some parents are actually more critical and realistic, it’s just that mine weren’t, they were full of stupid fantasies about what or who their daughter would do and become.  I know what you’re thinking, how can she call her parents stupid?  Well I’m not, I’m saying that their ideas about the fact that I would marry a white guy name Prince Charming was stupid, it is unrealistic.

What makes this idea even more ludacris is that well, I’m Hispanic, I grew up in West Texas, and close to the border with Mexico (because no one really knows where El Paso is if you ask someone from East Texas).  And even then, I didn’t grow up in actual El Paso, I grew up in the rural part of El Paso County, about twenty miles or so to the east of downtown.  My parents resided in a small quaint rural town called San Elizario, okay so I have to embellish because it’s a small, rural Texas town full of predominately Mexican-American people where the one gas station was everyone’s gathering place. Also, at the time I was growing up there many people still had very strong roots to Mexico.  I, on the other hand did not, I was third generation born American.  Anyway, the idea that a white Prince Charming would ride into San Eli and take me away from rural town life was just stupid.

And for the record it didn’t turn out that way for many reasons, but mostly for the failure of my very Mexicanized parents lack of talking to their kids about things like stranger danger, how proud they were of you (if at all), gave positive reinforcement and especially not talking to their kids about the dangers of unprotected sex. I was a casualty of unprotected sex, a teenage Hispanic pregnancy statistic.  Because what I learned I had to learn either in school or from friends and we all will find out how that turned out.

I met my future ex-husband at one of my cousin’s birthday gatherings, God I should have run as far away as I could have.  But then my son wouldn’t have ever been born so, maybe not, in any case I got pregnant at fifteen, married at sixteen (because the bastard didn’t want to marry me).  No, it wasn’t a shotgun wedding nor did I force the him to marry me either.

When I was almost nine months pregnant and after many attempts to get him to understand that at the time I thought I loved him.  I gave up and had resolved to raise this baby on my own, the minute I stopped pursuing him or trying to convince him we should get married (yes, now I realize it was a stupid idea but I was still waiting for that fucking Charming guy to show up) he miraculously changed his mind.   After meeting his mother though, I should have run but that’s another story or maybe another book entirely.  In any case I married the father of my son and proceeded to have two more boys during the fourteen and a half years of marriage.

Not everything was as I thought it should have been, again at forty-eight years old that Prince Charming dude is still missing.  I divorced at twenty-nine years old, became a single mother to three of the most awesome (albeit sarcastically astute and lovable boys) and struggled to make it as a single mom.  No higher education at the time and naive in many ways I tried to navigate my way through life stumbling, no falling face first into the concrete I call life, that I believed maybe now that Charming guy would finally show up and rescue me, WRONG.  Stay tuned for part two……