My Hometown Was Famous For a While Back in 1984

In the summer of 1984 there were a lot of strangers wandering around my little hometown of San Elizario Texas, and when I say strangers I mean just that.  My hometown was so small, back then, everyone knew everyone else.  So when we saw someone we didn’t recognize it was a big deal, let alone a lot of people we didn’t recognize.  We were that type of quintessential small American hometown where everybody’s parents knew everyone else’s kids.  So things like “I know your dad, do you want me to tell him your breaking windows or do you want to stop?” were heard all around town by other kids parents (yes, yes I did break a couple of windows).  So when trucks full of people and equipment came to town it was to say, very noticeable.  Semi-tractor trailers chock full of equipment no one knew what it was going to be used for, were parked on the sides of our small two lane roads taking up perfectly good bike riding space.

San Eli Historic District

Then it all began to change, my hometown that is, old storefronts that hadn’t been opened in decades were being renovated, or should I say restored to actually look old.

Old Lalos Gro
This is one of the old storefronts that was restored for the film, and still looks like this today
Old San Eli Jail
This is the old San Elizario Jail, Billy the Kid was held here for an entire 48 hours

The roads around the beautiful old church were being covered with dirt, old telephone booths were being put up in almost every corner within a two mile radius of the town square.

San Elizario Church Square
This is the town square in front of the church.

Then one day another three 18 wheeler’s showed up, parked outside our house and a group of men wanted to talk to my uncle to see if they could pay him to park the three trucks full of antique cars.  He of course said yes, I mean hello? Money to have three large trucks parked on three acres of land that weren’t being used, that was easy money. I woke up one hot summer morning in 1984 and as I ate my cereal, I watched from my dining room window while groups of men unloaded old vintage cars from theses semi-trucks in our back yard.  In between my softball practice and hanging out with my friends we all watched our regular little town transform from what we knew to something out of the 1960’s, storefronts that lay dormant come back to life.  Old signs being put up all over town to advertise Oxydol, Borax and a cola called Moxie.

They had five of these cars

Old houses getting fresh “old” paint and “vintage” cars parked randomly around the church square.

Fandango Portales
Store fronts that were restored to look “old”.  Now they have brick paving out front and a marker.  Our town was where In 1598, Don Juan de Oñate, a Spanish nobleman and conquistador born in Zacatecas, Mexico, led a group of 539 colonists and 7,000 head of livestock (including horses, oxen, and cattle) from southern Chihuahua to settle the province of New Mexico. The caravan traveled a northeasterly route for weeks across the desert until it reached the banks of the Rio Grande in the San Elizario area. A mass was held, a blessing of the standard and a celebration.

Then nothing, for weeks everything came to a standstill, the townsfolk were told to keep everything as is, that nothing should be touched and that “they” would be back.  So that’s what everyone did.  Then one day my dad came home and said that he had been approached by one of the “gueros” on the crew that brought the old cars to our back yard, to see if he wanted to earn some extra money on the weekends and be a security guard.  My dad said yes, and then life began once again as tons of people came in huge RV’s and more semi-tractor trailers.  They inundated our little town with more people than we were used to seeing on Sundays after church.  My mom’s office was in an old building dating back to the l800’s which was in the town square next to our beautiful church.  They transformed her office front into a café, bakery and barber shop right out of the 1960’s.

Portales Now Image
This is my moms old office building, her office was where the corner windows are.  Now its historical site in my hometown

But that wasn’t even close to being the most impressive part, well at least for me it wasn’t.  It was when they announced that they’d be filming a movie with a group of actors no one had heard of yet.

The Groovers
The Groovers

And again that wasn’t enough to impress me, what impressed me was that this entire film crew was being taken care of by five, FIVE large catering trucks!  They made them breakfast, lunch and dinner, and they served things like t-bone steaks, shrimp cocktail, filet mignon, the biggest baked potatoes anyone’s ever seen.  They had desserts like German chocolate cake, which at this point in my life I didn’t know existed!  They had fruit trifle with homemade whipped cream, the very first time I had bratwurst was on this movie set, grilled served on the softest buns with real hot mustard and some kind of fries with mayonnaise (which I though was weird but ate anyway).

I was in culinary heaven! But how did the Huntress get to eat off of a movie set catering truck you ask? Well, simply put my dad had taken the gig as one of ten security guards and they got to eat from the movie catering, so that meant I did too.

So as they started to film, the hustle and bustle of the day to day work the film cast and crew would start at dawn and end….well it never ended, this was a 24/7 kind of thing.  Then one day I found myself having lunch with my dad and sat at one of the picnic tables they had all around the town square.  My dad finished and left and I found myself blissfully eating the biggest New York strip steak I had seen, with herb butter on top, a baked potato the size of my head and a fresh spinach salad with garlic and tomato in a lemon vinaigrette.  Which normally I wouldn’t have eaten at that age because it was fresh and also spinach but once I gave it a try I was hooked.  As I ate my food I was blissfully unaware of my surroundings.  Then I heard a voice ask me “Excuse me little girl, is anyone sitting here?” I mean I was far from little, I was fourteen.  I looked up and saw one of the actors still in his film attire, a handsome young man in a tattered tuxedo, with dirt and grime all over the white ruffled shirt, his messy hair being tossed by the light summer breeze as he held his lunch.

Kevin Costner Tux
A still unknown Kevin Costner

I nodded no, and he just sat down right next to me and began to eat, then asked “Do you live around here?” and I said “yes, just down the street.”  He took a huge bite from his corned beef sandwich on rye which also was the size of my head.  He looked around as he ate then said “It’s nice around here, very quiet” and I looked up taking a drink of my iced tea with lemon I said “It was, until you guys showed up.”  He laughed out loud, patted me on the back and said “I suppose that’s true” and went back to eating his lunch.  As we both ate in silence his co-stars came to the table and sat down with us.

One of the other actors asked me my name, I looked up at him and thought to myself man this dude has really dirty glasses on (part of his wardrobe) and I said “My names Ronnie” (that was my nickname as a kid) he then responded in a chipper voice “Hello Ronnie, I’m Judd” I said hi back as he sat down across from me.  Before I knew it my table was being taken over by almost the entire cast of the film, with the exception of the big actor, who played the minister, who sat with his, I’m assuming girlfriend near one of the RV’s they stayed in.  I finished my lunch and said goodbye to the group of rough and tumble guys that were sitting with me and they all turned and said bye, then Judd said “Bye Ronnie, see ya later” and I waved again and left.  This is the Judd I was eating lunch with……

Judd Nelson
Had I know I was eating with “the” future John Bender, I wouldn’t have left nearly so soon from my lunch table!

They filmed in my hometown for almost three weeks, and I during that time, enjoyed the perks of being fed by the outstanding catering trucks all because of my dad and his part time gig as a movie set security guard.

Kevin Costner and Jason Robards at the beginning of the wedding dance scene
Fandango Dance Scene II
The town square after it was transformed.  This is the dance scene with Kevin Costner and Suzi Amos (Titanic actress and James Cameron’s future wife)

As the days passed and they continued filming I was always around either at my mom’s office or with my dad and of course eating from the catering truck.  This is where I first tried foods I hadn’t eaten before, as mentioned the bratwurst with hot mustard, corned beef on rye, which one of the chefs on the truck said was “authentic New York” style, pasta with shrimp in garlic sauce.  All the while enjoying how our dusty little town had been all dressed up to be in a big time Hollywood film.

Fandango Storefront Pic
The Old Jail Restored
Portales Image Fandango
My moms old office in the background, Kevin Costner and Judd Nelson in the forefront pretending to set up for the wedding scene.  Notice the old phone booth up against the light pole.  Those things were all over town.

I sat down to lunch or dinner with the “guys” from the film more than once, never realizing who they were or more importantly, who they would become.  Kevin Costner ate with me on several occasions.  My mom actually took a picture of me with him sitting at a wooden picnic table and he’s smiling with his hand around my shoulder.  I tried in vain to look for that picture in boxes and boxes of old pictures my mom has stashed in her storage to no avail.  Then before I decided to write this post I asked her about the pictures from the movie that was filmed back in 1984.  She said “Oh, I threw a lot of those pictures away, those actors never amounted to much” and I almost screamed at her saying “Are you fucking serious?! You threw them away?!”

She looked at me and I took my phone and brought up a picture of Kevin Costner today and said “This is ‘the’ actor, the one in the dirty tuxedo that you though wouldn’t amount to anything, do you recognize him?” She squinted her eyes and said “Oh, that’s him?” I was furious, but what can I say?  Now I have no bragging rights or proof to show anyone I had an actual picture with “the” Kevin Costner before he became famous.

The film was called Fandango, and has since become somewhat of a cult classic.

Fandango Movie Poster


In this clip, the very first scene was shot in an even smaller town south of my hometown named Tornillo (which is screw, literally) in Spnaish.  The large tree and small house or bus bench was where many of us in high school would go, sit by the small river and drink beer.  But here, it’s transformed, made to look older than usual and the small two lane highway was used as a landing strip for Truman Sparks to land his plane on.

The next scene is where my dad, uncles and a lot of the towns people were used as extras for the dance/wedding scene.  It was filmed at 2:30am, they shot this scene like eight times to get it right.  The catering trucks were just outside camera shot and they were pumping out hot coffee, hot chocolate with whipped cream and tons of pastries to the actors and extras.  This is where I had my very first European style chocolate croissant.

The gazebo in the town square was also recently remodeled, now it has wooden beams, what you see in the film with the ironwork scrolls is what I use to hang off of as a kid, like a jungle gym.  I loved rollerskating in that square, this is where I learned to use a skateboard, where my friend Toni and her boyfriend Joey found me on that horrible Valentines Day and took their revenge on a Dodge Duster.  I love how the church is lit up so at night you can see the soft glow of the lights through the windows.

So this is how my hometown was famous and for a few glorious weeks back in 1984, and where I was elbow to elbow as a fourteen year old, eating lunch with Kevin Costner and Judd Nelson.

Until next time remember, chin up, soldier on and watch you back!

The Huntress915



Songs That Have Been Exhaled or Ruined By Brilliance or Stupidity

It’s happened to all of us at one time or another, we have a favorite song that we tied to either a moment or a person in our past.  A song that lived deep in our minds that when we heard it the positive or negative deluge of memories would come back to sucker punch us in the feels.  Songs that we heard as kids, adolescents or adults that meant something to us.  Songs that we abhorred, for instance Gangam Style, Lord if I hear that song one more time I’m going to………..ahem, anyway on to today’s post.

As a bonafide Gen-Xer for me songs are a marker of time, a brand on something so special or hated that we carry them with us for the rest of our life’s whether we want to or not.   It doesn’t matter who you are it is inevitable that you too are carrying around a lyrical reminder of your past.  Somehow being the only female growing up in a family of older male cousins, I was exposed to singer/song writers from the late 70’s and a lot of the rock from that era too.  There are some songs that are branded forever to one person, and those songs are hard to listen to without remembering his presence in my life such as Crazy Love by Poco, Ventura Highway by America, Love Will Keep Us Alive by the Eagles, If You Could Read My Mind by Gordon Lightfoot and Roberta Flacks The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face.  Listening to those songs are emotional torture and I try to avoid listening to them at all costs.

So when I began to really pay attention to movie soundtracks I realized that a lot of the songs I either loved or hated from my youth were being used and sometimes corrupted to the point of detestable rage.   Let’s take the song Careless Whispers by Wham, which was one of the very first love songs I associated with my pre-teen adolescence. Yes okay it was a song about cheating and the remorse one felt and all that jazz, but I was thirteen at the time what did I know?  It was an emotional marker if you will for the very first “older” crush I had as a freshman in high school.  His name was Carlos Garcia, and he had already graduated, my mom and his mom were coworkers so I saw him at my mom’s office all the time, he was a dream.

For a long while I hadn’t heard the song, and I do mean a long time and if I had, it didn’t pay too much attention to it.  And then……the movie Deadpool staring Ryan Reynolds came out in 2016 and it changed how I associated with the song completely.  I thought to myself, well this is an interesting development, as I sat through the film wondering if it was either going to fuck up my memories or erase them altogether.  Interestingly enough, I loved Deadpool, not just as a film, but the comic book character entirely.  He’s the epitome of the anti-hero, full of dark optimism and a hint of sarcasm, okay more than a hint, he’s full of that ball busting, in your face attitude that I admire so much.  From then on I associated Careless Whispers with Deadpool and not Carlos Garcia, which wasn’t a bad turn of emotional association in my mind.  It became one of my all-time favorite songs and I have no problem with hearing it and imagining Deadpool playing it on his phone while he attempts to woo his girlfriend in spite of his insecurity at being physically deformed.  Deadpool is my hero, and also my alter ego according to a team-building exercise at work, but that’s a post for another time.

Deadpool What gif
Careless Whispers by Wham used in the soundtrack to Deadpool, totally brilliant!

Continuing on, many songs from my youth and early adulthood were many but I had always had favorites as some of you will know, all of us do.  It’s like an emotional recording in our psyche that we will never be able to get rid of no matter how good or bad.  So, on to the bad.

Hall & Oats were a staple while I was growing up, and I loved their songs.  A duo of lyrical masterminds, they wrote songs that could resonate with your inner most feelings with songs like She’s Gone, Sarah Smile and Rich Girl.  When they rose to even more recognition in the 1980’s their songs became peppy and more pop than singer songwriter, a far cry from their songs of the 1970’s.  I was okay with that, I love their songs but then, Will Farrell managed to fuck up one of my favorite songs, he mutilated every single memory and every soft dreamy feeling I had associated with the Hall & Oats song You Make My Dreams, a far cry from the film The Wedding Singer that used that very same song, only in a more Huntress appropriate scene.  Will Farrell seems to fuck up a lot of things, the film Holmes and Watson for instance, but I’ll leave that one alone for now.

One day as I was going about my normal Saturday night routine of taking care of my tootsies and giving myself a pedicure, my son was watching the movie Step Brothers with Will Farrell and John C. Riley, I wasn’t paying attention to the film too much.  Then my son began to laugh wildly at a scene with the “step-brothers” are becoming best friends as the song You Make My Dreams plays in the background.  Now every time I hear that song I can’t seem to shake the image of two full grown men traipsing about in their underwear, as they dance and act like complete imbeciles, all the while Hall & Oats are the soundtrack to their stupidity and ineptness.  Shredded, those assholes shredded every good memory I had of Hall & Oats and the song You Make My Dreams!

Step Brothers
These two idiots have ruined You Make My Dreams by Hall & Oats forever.

Now every time I hear it I shudder, change the station or skip it on my iTunes that’s how bad they decimated what was once a great 80’s song full of memories and wonderful inner sunshine!

So we will talk about advertising, and how the world of adverts has also obliterated songs from my youth that once held deep personal emotional memories for me.  So here we go…..

Bounce Sheets, this tiny little dryer sheet has paid some big time advertising agency to ruin the song Your Love by the Outfield, which featured prominently in my adolescence.  Now, when I listen to it while driving in the car, I imagine some dude giving a presentation with a wrinkled shirt, embarrassed that he didn’t iron before going to work…..thanks Proctor & Gamble, thanks a lot you bastards!

The Outfield

Speaking of bastards, how about the pharmaceutical company that manufactures the medication Anoro?  They took a great Fleetwood Mac song, Go Your Own Way and although they didn’t change any of the lyrics, now it’s a cheesy “lighter” version that tells you if you have asthma you can go your own way with Anoro.  What does that even mean!?! I also know that the artist who wrote and sang these songs allowed them to be used in the commercials and movies I’m talking about.  They sold them to the advertising companies for big bucks, like they didn’t already have big bucks, right?

Oh and let’s not forget a brand new commercial for Dos Equis, goddamned you freaking Mexican beer assholes, for taking a much beloved song that I held near and dear to my heart all through the 80’s and 90’s and ruined it with a classless, mimicking 1980’s redo of Total Eclipse of the Heart!!! I can never hear that song without having that stupid commercial in my mind playing over and over!!

Dos Equis 80's
“Once upon a time there was a light in your life.  But now there’s only a line at the bar” is a horrible, twisted lyric used by Dos Equis

With that said, much respect to the late great Jim Morrison from the Doors, he refused $75k back in 1969 for the use of Light My Fire to be used in a cigarette commercial, which apparently now would be worth $500k, he didn’t sell out but because he was the sole writer of the the song and was the only one that had a say in what or where the song could be used.

Jim Morrison

So those are a few of the songs that have been ruined by movies or commercials or given me a different perspective.  I have nothing against great songs being used for movie soundtracks because they enhance a film, they speak about the characters and their emotions, but I do have a problem with them being used for commercials where the original song is diluted, monsterized, turned into lyrical cheese to sell products.  Oh dear gawd the songmanity!

Until next time y’all, remember chin up, soldier on and watch your back!

The Huntress915


A Huge Accomplishment for One is Intimidating to Others, Others with Severe Mommy Issues…..

Welcome to a special Friday post by the Huntress! Today’s post is brought to you by…..SARCASM, the best way to get those “mind fucks” in when you need them the most. Also brought to you by REALITY, that thing that bites you in the ass when you least expect it!

On to today’s post! Yesterday during my lunch hour I was perusing through LinkedIn and on my feed I found a wonderful article about 24 year old Briana Williams, a single mom of a 1 year old daughter who graduated from HARVARD LAW SCHOOL!! Come on peeps, give this girl a huge hand, I’ll wait…….(Jeopardy theme playing……….).

Brianna Williams
24 year old Briana Williams and her daughter Evelyn in 2018

This 24 year old accomplished what many aren’t able to and she has a baby as well which makes her graduating from law school even more amazing,  this story is from 2018 but found its way into LinkedIn this past week, you can read the article about Ms. Williams here.  This young woman is from Atlanta, Georgia and when she began her studies at Harvard she got by, by being a waitress and bartender to support herself.  Not to mention the time it took for her to study and do her classwork AND having to take care of her baby daughter.  It’s daunting to just think about it.  But as I read on about this amazing young woman, I began to read the comments section of my LinkedIn feed.  And there was a comment by some douche bag (a local douche bag) who said he couldn’t be happy for a single mother because he was raised by a single mom and he “suffered” the consequences of having to grow up without his mom when he “needed” her around.

This set off a firestorm of fury inside because many of the responses were to ask this douche bag why he felt he needed to bring down someone else’s accomplishment by comparing it to his experiences.  As I read his long and emotionally needy diatribe he kept saying that he and his brothers were raised by his mom who was a single mom, and she was so busy supporting them she didn’t have time to pay attention to them so they grew up “on their own.”  As I kept reading the anger grew, because I, as a single mother of three boys who worked hard to support them as well as going to college to get my bachelor’s, knew my boys don’t feel this way, or did they?  So yesterday afternoon I went home and as I prepared dinner I asked my son if he ever felt that I had neglected them while I worked.  He looked at me and sarcastically replied (I wonder where he gets that from?) “Really mom? Your seriously asking me that, when you taught me and both my brothers how to drive.  You taught all of us how to shave and that’s something dads should do, but you did it.  You taught us how to cook, iron, and wash our clothes and how to change the spark plugs and tires on our cars, you helped us with homework and still found time to attend Pooky’s (my youngest) tennis and wrestling matches, you think you neglected us?”

I could see that he was sincere through the fog of sarcasm in his response.  So as I took my daily run, I kept thinking more about what this asshole had posted on LinkedIn about this wonderful young woman’s accomplishments.  The more I thought about it the angrier I got, so when I came back to work I got back onto my LinkedIn feed and tried to find that post so I could include it here, comments from douche bag and all.  But it looked like someone had taken that one comment and all of the responses down, which was a good thing because this woman’s hard work and determination don’t need to be clouded by one man’s selfish and misguided thoughts.  My intention was to respond to this obviously needy, mommy issue holding asshole to tell him that if he felt that way, it was his mom’s fault and not compare another’s accomplishments to his mother’s failures.

This is why I think that is, first of all if this asshole douche bag feels that he can’t be happy for a single mother’s hard work and accomplishments that she and she alone worked for, there are bigger issues at play in this dudes tiny little mind.  If for any reason this “man” and I use that word loosely, thinks he “suffered” in anyway because his mom worked hard to provide for him and his brothers, to keep them clothed, fed and a roof over their heads but didn’t get enough of his mother’s attention then all I have to say is, that’s his mother’s fault.  If this “man” feels the need to drag down others, and by his comments it’s apparently only single mothers, then his mom raised a spoiled, self-absorbed, self-entitled little prick who probably got everything he asked for.  Because (and this is only an assumption, by his comment) if he was raised to know someone’s worth, if he knew how to work hard for what he wanted instead of demanding it (and probably getting it), if he actually saw what his mother went through for him and his brothers, if he ever knew how hard it is for a single mother in a one income household to provide for more than two people, if he saw her emotional struggles he wouldn’t be the asshole douche bag he is today!

Yes, this will hit a hot spot with some, but I speak from experience here and it’s enraging to see someone, especially someone who is bringing down another person’s accomplishments without walking a mile in their shoes, is an asshole douche bag with mommy issues that will follow him throughout his adult life.  I raised my boys to know the difference between wanting and needing, to know that through hard work you can get what you want and need all at the same time.  To have compassion for those in situations they know nothing about, to not assume or judge solely by a person’s appearance because they too will fall into that category at one point or another in their lives.  And most of all, intelligence above emotion, always, think before you speak and know that if you say something stupid or cruel, prepare to suffer the consequences.

I also know there are tons and I do mean tons of single fathers out there of all ages and demographics who are going through the very same thing.  I am very aware of the plight of a lot of single parents both men and women who struggle everyday to do what they can for their children.  I am by no means trying to put one over the other, a single parent is a single parent and their struggles are real.  This post was to be a counter point of a certain douche bag asshole, raised by a single mother who isn’t one bit grateful for what she did for him and who couldn’t say something nice about someone who managed to make her dreams come true in spite of a lot of obstacles she had to overcome to get to where she’s at now.  Believe me I wish I could find his comments so everyone could see what an asshole his mother raised!  But I couldn’t, so this will have to do.

So in honor of Briana Williams and her little girl Evelyn, this if for both of you….

“She’ll be richer by far when her dreams come true” – Tesla

P.s. Aren’t these guys gorgeous?  I mean give me 80’s hair band/rock/metal any day and I’ll be one happy Huntress!

Until next time y’all and remember, chin up, soldier on and watch your back!

The Huntress915


Childhood Bullies, their Bullying Parents and Sweet, Sweet Karma.

When I was growing up, I like many kids growing up the late 70’s and 80’s, I was bullied at one point or another.  I grew up in a rural town on the outskirts of El Paso Texas, it was somewhat isolated and our school district was small but that didn’t mean there weren’t bullies, either home grown or from another town.  When I was growing up my parents had friends that ran in the same social circles, especially since my dad played baseball on countless weekend teams.  So on a number of occasions our weekends were spent with families from other teams watching our dads play baseball and then drink afterwards, while the mom’s would pack lunches or take enough supplies for everyone to gather together after the game and have one giant cookout.

But more than a few of my parents friends weren’t the nicest people, and even their kids showed signs of growing up in the same behavior, I mean come on apple, tree what can I say right?  One of these baseball couples that were not only friends of my parents they were “compades” which meant they were with them when my parents got married, like the best man and maid of honor. This family lived two and half miles from where we did, in the town next to ours called Clint.  It was literally down the road from our house, a straight line into a completely different town, economically, socially and in attitude as well.  Clint was a farm town, with rich white farm owners, which in turn meant they had a socioeconomic say in how their town grew, what boundaries they set and how their kids acted.  So, everyone that went to school in that school district believed that anyone from my hometown or the town nine miles away (Fabens) were beneath them.

I’m not exaggerating when I say this, there was an attitude of social disparity that came with living within the boundaries of our own communities, all perpetuated by economic backgrounds and financial status.  Spending many summers with this particular family I became, not so much friends with the girls of this couple but acquaintances trying to knockout hours of boredom while our dads played baseball and our mothers gossiped under the shades of the baseball park.  We played, talked about school, friends and even a couple of time spent the night with each other.  But as we grew older there was a divide, our attitudes changed towards each other and neither of us would be caught dead hanging out with one another.

It didn’t help that my mom’s friend Bertha would criticize me in front of my mom and say things like “So are you going to get those teeth of hers fixed? Because she’ll never find a husband looking like that” and of course I couldn’t say anything because I’d get slapped or told to shut the fuck up.  Meanwhile Hortense had cute freckles, hazel eyes, blonde hair and she looked like goddamned Shirley Temple!  I was dark haired, very light skinned and my eyes were plain old brown.  My disdain for my mother’s friend grew as I got older.  When I got pregnant she came to my baby shower and I overheard her telling my mom “Oh well at least you’ll have tons of grand-kids and not worry about her needing to find a job because she’ll be at home or working part time as a lunch lady.”  I was furious and I walked up to my mom after this bitch had walked away and asked her why she hadn’t defended me?

Fairy God Mother Pic
Hortense’s Mother Bertha

All my mother did was say “Why? She’s right, what are you going to do with your life now that you’re pregnant?  You won’t graduate high school, you won’t do anything” I could feel hatred for my mother beginning to roll and boil in the pit of my stomach.  I think that’s the day I emotionally cut my mom off, I just hadn’t learned to deal with her narcissism until recently.   Anyway back to my story of karma, as teenagers, getting older the animosity seemed to grow and get more odious as time went by.  My parents would often go and visit their friends in Clint and would ask if I’d like to go along to go to see (I’m going to call her Hortense, because I know she’d hate that name).  I would say no because I no longer wanted to hang out with Hortense and I’d stay behind.  Hortense was my age, but she acted like she was older, and told me so on numerous occasions.  A power play of course to intimidate me, but it was only an attempt I knew how old she was.  Each of our towns would hold a Fiesta or carnival for our church’s patron saint every summer, Clint’s would be in August and San Eli’s would be in September.  It almost always rained during their carnival which to me was our patron saint pissing karma on their so called parade.  And like normal teenagers we’d attend each of the carnivals/fiestas to scope out each other as rivals and to meet new people, you know see if the grass was really greener.  Well not for them as we were mudcats and they were……well pretentious assholes.

My friends and I would often be confronted by the “rich” girl gangs and on occasion we’d end up in a fights.  One of the times it rained so hard that I came home covered head to toe in mud, and my mom asked me what happened and I told her.  She was actually shocked that I’d told her the truth, I mean why would I lie?  After a hot shower and some food our phone rang and low and behold it was my mom’s friend from Clint.  She bitched and complained that my friends and I had “jumped” her sweet innocent little Hortense and she was consoling her because apparently she came home with a black eye and bloody nose.  In my defense it was an all-out brawl, there were about eight of us and nine of them, and we all began to swing at the same time.  In the rain and mud I had no clue who I was hitting or who was hitting me, all I knew was if I was going to go down, I was going to go down swinging.   But before it all began Hortense and I had a few choice words for each other, all because of her stupid big mouth little sister, who I’ll call Helga, because the bitch was ugly as fuck and she looked like a Helga.

Helga and I had seen each other during the carnival and she came up to me and my friends and said “Hi Huntress, my sister thinks you’re an ugly bitch and your parents are stupid poor.”  No shit that’s what that fat, ugly waste of space said, my friend Toni (Antonietta) got up close to her and said “Oh really where’s your sister now? And why doesn’t she come and tell her to her face?”  Helga by this point was shitting bricks, Toni was not someone to mess with, and the rest of my friends joined in the taunting making this little bitch cry.  Now for the record, my parents weren’t poor, we as a family were well off, more so than many of the rich bitch kids in Clint.  Both my parents worked and they only had two kids, so they could afford to buy us pretty much what we wanted or needed.  The only difference was I was from the wrong side of the tracks, metaphorically speaking, because I lived in San Eli instead of Clint.  So I told Helga that I never had to wear hand my downs like she did, I didn’t have to play with used toys like she did, nor did I have to worry about money because my mom worked unlike her mother.  I may have mentioned that her mom was a lazy bitch and that’s why they were poorer than we were.  I also threw in there that we had two cars and we didn’t have to flip a coin to see which parent was going to use it.

That was enough to make Helga cry, and before me and my friends knew it, her uglier sister and her gang of rich bitch friends came looking for me and mine and all hell ensued.  Knee deep in mud and swinging like inmates in a prison riot.  As I dried my hair with a bath towel my mom yelled at me to come to the kitchen and then she handed me the phone, without saying a word she just handed me the phone, like I was supposed to know what or who I was talking to. All I heard on the other end of the line was Hortense’s mother going off on me, and I was caught off guard.  I looked at my mom in complete disbelief, why didn’t she defend me?

Why did she let this idiot woman yell at me when I wasn’t the one that started all of this?  Why was she just standing there listening in on the other phone, when all I could do was stay quiet? I was engulfed in anger both at my stupid mother for not defending me and at that idiot Hortense for lying about what happened.  If it had been me, I would have told my mom “Yeah I got my ass kicked because of my big mouth” like when I did one day after school when I fought Carmen Almanzar, we called her Grape Ape because she was huge, albino looking and mean as hell.  Anyway I took responsibility for that day, but I suppose I knew that Hortense wouldn’t because she was a spineless chicken shit. I hung up the phone mid-scolding and Hortense’s mother yelled at my mom as to why I had hung up.  My mom yelled at me to pick up the phone and I kept walking into my room.

It wasn’t enough to be bullied at school, and by girls in another town, as well as their idiot parents.  I also had to go through that shit with my own mother, she was always comparing me to her friend’s daughters, how beautiful they were, how smart they were, how devoted they were to their mothers.  How so-and-so’s daughter got into college, how so-and-so’s daughter didn’t get pregnant at sixteen and so on.  That day was burned into my mind, and I suppose my soul because of my mother and her actions.  But somehow karma came when I least expected it to, fast forward twenty some odd years to present day.  I had taken my mother to one of her doctor’s appointments and who do we run into? My mother’s friend from Clint and her ugly and now fat as hell daughter Hortense.

Ugly Step Sister Pic

I had to drop my mom off at the door to the doctor’s office so I could go find a parking space, I had left work half day so I was still dressed in my two piece Ralph Lauren business suit, high heels and pearls (yes I know I sound pretentious but there is a point to this, and yes this is how I dress for work every day).

As I made my way into the waiting room, my mom yells out “Mija, I’m right here!  Look who’s here, Bertha and Hortense” Hortense looked at me up and down like I was a life-size T-bone steak, which by the looks of it, she could eat in one bite.  Her mother looked at me the same way, but I…..I was thinking of that day back in 1984 when this stupid bitch and her mother caused all kinds of hell for me.  Bertha stuck her hand out to shake mine as she asked “Oh how are you?” I looked at my mom, beaming with pride and it nauseated me.  Now, now my mother was proud of me, in spite of the fact that I got pregnant at sixteen, I shamed her forever (her words not mine).  Now she proudly laid claim to me, as her daughter because now, I was successful, now I had my bachelors and master’s degrees, now I was financially independent and now I was the daughter she wanted back when I was only thirteen or fourteen years old.

My mother turned to Bertha and told her I worked at a prominent university, that I had gotten my bachelor’s and master’s in spite of being divorced (this sounded like an insult to me) and that I was house hunting and planned to go on an Alaskan cruise and take her with me (complete and total lie, I’d never go on a cruise with my narcissistic mother).  Hortense on the other hand looked like she was uncomfortable, and she looked like she weighed about 250 lbs. and I had just lost 32 pounds, was working out and looked absolutely great compared to Hortense.  Again I have nothing against the fluffy people in this world, but this bitch was one of many of my mother’s friend’s daughters I was constantly compared to.  And most of them didn’t like me because of where I grew up, so I thought, fuck it!  By this time Bertha had gotten tired of holding her hand out so I could shake it, which of course I didn’t.

In any case the awkward moment kept going on for what seemed like hours.  Bertha finally said to my mom, in Spanish “Well what? Your daughter isn’t going to say hi?” I looked at both these pathetic women and said to my mom “Mom, let’s sit over here closer to the window, there’s too much riff-raff over on this side of the waiting room.” I took my mom’s hand and began to lead her to the other side of the waiting room.  As my mom got up, she looked stunned and I whispered to her “Just do what I say and shut up.”  I had to talk to her like that because she’s the kind of person that would make a scene.

As my mom walked away Bertha said “How rude, you haven’t changed a bit” and I looked back at her and said “Oh yes I have bitch, because now I can tell you AND your fat ass daughter to go to hell and mean it.  I don’t need my mothers permission to do so either, or be afraid of what she say’s or thinks, so both of you can fuck off!” they looked shocked and never saw that coming.  I said what I said because I knew her daughter turned out to disappoint in bigger ways than I ever could have.  My mother had no expectations of me after I got pregnant, her mother gloated that Hortense would go to college, become a lawyer, walk on the moon, marry John Cusack, blah, blah, blah.   Instead what happened was, she married a mudcat, a guy from MY hometown, something Hortense’s mother never wanted, she always warned her to stick to boys in her side of the tracks.  Also Hortense never went to college, she never accomplished any of the things her mother told my mother she would do.

Only a Bitch

She had three kids with this guy, then he cheated on her, they divorced and she’s a cafeteria lunch lady in the elementary school IN MY HOMETOWN!!  Maybe what I did was childish and maybe I could have gone about handling that situation better.  But I did what I did and I don’t regret it one fucking bit.  I had done way more than all of them ever thought I would, including my mom.  I knew that all my accomplishments since my divorce were mine and mine alone.  Even my mother can’t take credit, and believe me she’s tried and I’ve quickly put that shit to rest, but on that day it was all me.   As my mother slowly walked to the chairs I had pointed out in the waiting room, I looked back and Hortense and her mother were whispering to each other and that’s when I flipped those two bitches from the so-called “right side of the tracks” off in the classiest way possible, and I did it with the biggest smile on my face.

After we left, my mother asked me why I was so rude to her friend, I reminded her that Bertha wasn’t really her friend, which she would constantly put her down not to mention that that bitch would bully me and my mom wouldn’t set her straight.  I told her that I would overhear their conversations sometimes as a kid, she didn’t say anything.   I also reminded her about what both of them did to me that day after the mud fight, which of course my mom said to me “Ay that was so long ago you can’t possibly still hold a grudge for that.”  I responded with “Oh hell yes I can, and today I did what I wanted to do back then.  Because you didn’t do it, you just let her talk down to me when I was a kid” she sat in silence as I drove her home and believe me it’s hard for my mother to stay silent.

So, if I have to surmise karma did me a favor that day or should I say over the last twenty-five years or so because this woman and her seemingly over hyped, over weight daughter ended up right where they least expected, tied to someone from the wrong side of the tracks and emotionally pistol whipped by the sharp, fork-tongued daughter of a friend they had low or no expectations from.  And for those who are wondering, yes it felt fucking great.  Yes, I could have just been the perfect daughter my mother always wanted but as the singer Pink once said “I got a brand new attitude, and gonna wear it tonight, I wanna get in trouble I wanna start a fight!”

Bernie GIF
Suck it Bitches!!!

This is the Huntress915 until next time.


Part II – Online Dating Tips for Men from The Huntress

Welcome back kids to the second part of “Online Disaster Dating Game!”  If you’ve read my last and final attempt at online dating, it was as I suspected, a clusterfuck of men with some misguided ideas about what women are looking for on the online dating sites.  If you haven’t read it, then you can here.   Now before I get messages about how not all men suffer from chronic bouts of verbal diarrhea and that somewhere out there are men who are classy, cultured and sophisticated, I will say I agree.  Not all men are the types of creatures one finds on online dating sites, with oversexed ideas and raging testosterone that turns them into knuckle dragging assholes.  I know many decent, loving and responsible men who don’t fall into that stereotype.

And on the rare occasion one will find one of these men online but they seem to be like Bigfoot or the aliens at Roswell, we’ve all heard of them but have never really encountered them ourselves.  But I digress, the purpose of this post is to try and steer those misguided LvrBois, LadiesMen, LatinLvrs, Hoodlums and ArmyHunks in the right direction.  Because I’m pretty sure most of the women on these sites are sick and tired of men thinking they can say just about anything without it having some kind of consequence.  I’ve asked some of my male friends both married and single what they think about my experiences on these dating sites.  I’ve gathered some very interesting information and I’m going to share some of it with you, so onward we go.

Tip #1 – Ask about her interests.  We know you all like talking about yourselves, how long you were married or if you’ve never been married (if the dude is 57 years old and has never been married, his name might just be Norman Bates) how many times a week you go golfing, what kind of car you drive and how many kids you have living with you.  But do stay away from a surefire way to be ghosted by the lady you’re interested in and DO NOT under any circumstances talk about your ex.   About how big a bitch she is, how much your divorce cost and how she’s now married to the guy she cheated on you with! These topics will lead to you to being ghosted or blocked, I know what I’m saying. Also listen, listen, listen!! There’s nothing worse than talking to a guy that’s a complete corn-hole and a one-way street when it comes to communication. We get it, you like to talk about yourself a lot, but once in a while you need to listen, REALLY LISTEN!

Joey Donner Meme

Tip #2 – Try and I do mean TRY HARD not to sound overeager or needy.  Again we all have our hang-ups it’s only human.  But when you’re talking to a woman your clearly interested in, take your time in getting to know her.  There’s nothing worse than having to constantly reassure a middle aged man (or any man) you’ve never met, that you are interested in him or explaining that we need to take it one day at a time before we decide we want to meet you face to face.  The insecurity thing is just plain aggravating and totally unattractive.  And for FUCKS SAKE act you age guys!  Really I mean the constant barrage of needy ass questions like “Do you really like me?” “Are you serious about talking to me, be honest” and “I’m so interested in you, I hope you’re interested in me” shit gets old and it gets old pretty fucking fast!  I realize that there are women out there that have the same characteristics but I’m strictly talking about men here.

Spanish Inquisition Meme

Tip #3 – Be Honest.  I can’t stress this enough to men.  Because being honest is going to win her over faster than lying!  And when I say be honest I mean do so on your online profile as well.  Women don’t want to see a picture of you when you were in your 30’s (unless you are really 30) or a high school picture or a picture of Tom Cruise instead of yours.  I mean really, come the fuck on.  Don’t lie about shit that we will eventually find out about like your height, eye color, if you’re bald, or if you say your “average build” and you really weigh 350 lbs! (No I have nothing against the “fluffy” men out there) but that kind of shit is hard to overlook when we finally meet you (kinda like if you’re 55 and live with your mom, you fucking scrub!)  And if you’ve lied, we WILL find a drastic way to bail on our first meeting like climbing out a bathroom window at a restaurant or bar or walking out the back door! (No comment on that) moving on.  And women over think a lot of shit like, if you’re willing to lie to us about the most trivial things, then our assumption will be that you are willing to lie about the important stuff like if you’re really married and all your looking for is to get laid!  If that’s the case then I suggest you stick to finding women on Tinder!

You Aint Gotta Lie Craig

Tip #4 – TALK for at least one to two weeks.  This is extremely important because some women have had bad relationships (as have men) and are put off by the constant nagging that you want to meet her.  A week to two weeks is a good time frame to establish a verbal foundation to build on.  You need to be patient, especially with online dating.  I realize that the demographics of the women to men ratio is 1/5.  That’s five women to every one man.  Some of us are aware that you have a virtual cavalcade of women to choose from but that doesn’t mean you can fish, catch and throw back the ones that aren’t responding to you fast enough.  We’re human and we have feelings, just like you do and we don’t appreciate the pushy, overzealous attitude when you might lose “the” one you like because we aren’t acting fast enough.  In this case patience is key, don’t fuck it up by asking her to meet you on day two.  This is an indication to women that you are too needy and overbearing to deal with, so STOP IT!

When Harry Met Sally

Tip #5 – DON’T TALK ABOUT SEX!  Until you know for absolutely sure she’s going to allow you to talk to her that way.   If you begin asking her about her previous relationship and how long it’s been since she’s had sex and she shy’s away from it, STOP.  This is coming from experience, again unless she’s okay with it and (this is going to totally sound like a double standard) unless she initiates it first stay away from the subject.  And what I mean by this is, don’t talk to her using vulgar and sexually suggestive or aggressive comments, like what you’d like to do to her, when and where, just stay away from thinking she’s so desperate to have sex she’ll settle for the first guy that comes along.  I know what I’m talking about here, nothing screams “asshole” more than someone who keeps interjecting sexual innuendo into a conversation about your impending first date.  You don’t know her well enough to go that far in conversation.  And she will walk away from you faster than a stripper being pelted with quarters at a strip club.

Bitch Lap Meme

Tip #6 – DO NOT initiate a conversation unless you intend to see it through.  When you begin online dating there are a lot of women and you will be inundated with many wanting to talk to you.  As mentioned above there are five women to every one man, and don’t waste our time if you’re not genuinely interested in getting to know us.  Sending “flirts” and “winks” does not constitute a conversation and our time, just like yours is precious.  So don’t waste it by doing the casual drive by on our profile, leaving winks and flirts without really wanting to talk.  And on the rare occasion you will be stalked by that one crazy ass woman who thinks that wink or flirt will mean more than it does, and unless you’re ready to have your inbox overflowing with messages from that ONE woman, don’t, because believe me it will not end well.

He's Not That Into You Crazy Girl Meme

Tip #7 – Complete your profile.  When I say this I mean write something other than “I’ll fill that in later” type shit.  You won’t get any hits if women see that you’re just too lazy to fill out a one or two page profile.  We want to know what you’re about, your likes, dislikes, hobbies etc.  And try hard to avoid the website’s automatic answers, if we see twenty profiles with the same answer to questions six: Describe what you do for fun? Chances are we’re going to skip right down to the guy who actually answered his questions with real substantial responses.  Write something heartfelt and real. If you can’t think of anything ask someone you trust enough to help you with this, a best friend or brother.  It’s not rocket science guys, come on!  It should come easy if you’re describing yourself, again DON’T LIE!

Rule #7 meme

Tip #8 – Don’t use stupid profile names.  Use a genuine name on your profile, not something stupid like LvrBoi65, LadiesMan51, LatinLvr08, Hoodlum51, ArmyHunk 55.  Really, ArmyHunk?  This may work with some women (usually the shallow ones looking for a man with money) but those of us that are actually independent and smart will skip right by your profile.  And it will usually indicate to us that you think way too much of yourself to be calling yourself a hunk.  Actually it screams self-absorbed narcist asshole truth be told.  Use something creative like your profession (like Architect007 or Aquarius55) yes they sound cheesy but you’ll probably have more luck with those.  They’re personality neutral and don’t scream “hey, look at me, look at me” in a needy, narcissistic kind of way.

Ron Burgundy meme

Tip #9 – Keep Your Expectations Real.  Okay guys this one is probably THE second most important one and I’ll tell you why.  Most of the women on these online dating sites are real women, with real world issues, hang-ups and self-esteem problems.  We don’t all look like Megan Fox, Sandra Bullock, Jessica Biel or January Jones and chances are even they don’t look like that.  Have you ever seen those actresses without makeup, I mean come on! Having real expectations about the women you start talking to is the first step to avoid being disappointed.  I also realize that women will lie on their profiles, and if you do find one that has, walk away.  Because just like with men, if they can lie about something trivial they can and will lie about the more important stuff.  As the saying goes, real women have curves…..and issues it’s a package deal guys if you can’t handle it then your expectations are most definitely unrealistic.

Bridget Jones Fat

Tip #10 – Don’t Judge Her Mistakes By Your Experiences.  When and if you have established a good verbal foundation chances are you both will begin to talk about your past.  When you do, don’t be a dick-wad and bail if she’s not perfect.  If both of you are on online dating sites you have a reason why.  Just like men, women will make mistakes and just like men we will probably say inappropriate things at the most inopportune times.  But if you find that she was, at one point unfaithful in her previous relationship or that she isn’t as financially responsible as most, you should find out what happened before you decide to ghost her for misconceptions you’ve created in your mind.  Because if you’ve been the victim of infidelity that shit will most definitely hit a sore spot, but remember one thing, she’s not your ex or the woman that caused you that personal turmoil so don’t judge or blame HER for it.  She’s not perfect, she will make mistakes just like you have or will.  And don’t be a douche, if something bothers you about her and you really like her, ask for fucksake don’t just stop communication with her without a reason.

10 Things I hate About You Meme

So there you have it guys, those are the ten tips I have for you on online dating.  These are actual experiences that I and several women I know have been through.  As previously mentioned I also gained some very useful insight from male friends both single and married and included their input.   I believe that men’s ideas and input are important, not all men though, like a specific blogger jerk who commented on my Part I post, and criticized my writing and grammar (like using the word mofo and being surprised that I used the word decorum in the same blog post *gasp*) which only led me to believe he was questioning my intelligence.  Meanwhile his reply to my post was one long run-on sentence with badly placed punctuation and childlike incoherence.

And in his reply to my post he thought he’d give ME criticism on how I should write about my personal perspective and how I should get use to men talking like uncultured swine to women they are just getting to know, about sex, because (and I quote) “that’s apparently normal, missy, so accept it.”  Apparently he felt he needed to give me his unsolicited male perspective without reading any of my previous posts or knowing who I am or how I got here.

This “blogger” also said that maybe my online rejections were a result of karma because I refused to lower my standards about what I want in men, calling it “fair game” as well as resigning myself to “scrapping the bottom of the barrel” of online dating because I’ve rejected those that were attempting to contact me for reasons that according to him were completely unfounded.  Decorum according to him, should be used in ones blog, and “lewd” language should be kept to ones self.  Well, all I have to say is, this is for you.

How do you like decorum now?

So to the men that were more than helpful in giving me their input on my online dating fiasco, I thank you with all my heart!  This includes the male bloggers who follow me and give me nothing but constructive and creative feedback to my posts, but also in supporting to a fellow blogger without having to tear someone else down to make yourselves feel good.  You guys are wonderful and I’m so glad I have friends like you.  So with that, I leave you with this parting thought……..There’s always three sides to every story, his, hers and the truth!

This is TheHuntress915, until next time.


Mid-Week News Update from The Huntress – Ooopps I Did I Again Part I *Dun, Dun*

I did do it again, as Brittany would say and judging from her life lately she says that a lot.  Okay so moving on to the topic at hand.  A friend and I were talking (uh oh you know that’s not good when women get to talking, and when there’s wine involved) and under the influence of said demon alcohol we decided (mutually) that we were going to give online dating one last and final try.  This time we made up our minds that we would do the “older” people dating sites, we settled on OurTime, specifically for plus fifty crowd, even though I’m still 49 (and hanging onto it like the last chocolate croissant in the entire world!).  We based our decision mainly on the fact that we want to look for older, more mature men that are ready to find a serious long term relationship.  We also decided that we were going to pay for only one month at a time, if anything positive came of it then we’d consider going longer.  Was I excited? Stupidly yes.  Did it have a different outcome? Oh fuck no…….

In online dating, verbally and sexual innuendo based offenses are considered especially heinous. In the OnLine Dating World, the dedicated Huntress who investigate these vicious dating crimes is the only member of an elite squad known as the Online Dating Unit. These are her stories. * Dun Dun *

So my friend Victoria both created our online profiles, I did mine late one night not realizing the bombardment of messages I’d get the next day.  I hadn’t even bothered to browse the profiles yet and as I began to look at the messages (I had over 68 new messages in one night) I automatically skipped through profiles with names like LvrBoi65, LadiesMan51, LatinLvr08, Hoodlum51, ArmyHunk 55, as these did not inspire curiosity to even view their profiles, it actually was a huge turn off. I mean honestly what could a dude with the profile name LvrBoi65 really want? Other than a lesson in grammar and of course telling the mofo that if he is indeed 65, he’s too fucking old to be using the screen name LvrBoi, oh lawd the datemanity!  Then I completely delete anyone wearing a Dallas Cowboys jersey……..(kidding, just kidding….or am I?).

My friend on the other hand was enjoying the attention, and I tried really hard not to sound like a Debbie Downer but I had to say “It will die down, it’s only like this in the beginning.”  She sighed on the phone and said “I suppose your right, so shouldn’t we jump in while we’re hot?”  I didn’t know how to respond, honestly what could I say?  What I was thinking on the other hand was I should get my money back and just chalk this up to another misguided attempt at finding someone I know I won’t find online.  Although, I had one particular gentleman send me a message telling me he’d like to take me to dinner or lunch to talk and find out more about me, that I thought was pretty interesting.  He’s 60 but then I looked through his profile and he answered the question “What type of relationship are you looking for?” with longtime lover and that was enough for me to click buh-bye.

Online Dating Quote I

Also I found two of the losers I dated previously on different dating sites, Oompa Loompa David from Las Cruces who is still claiming he’s 5’11 and Eddie, a guy I was interested in and then ghosted me right after we met.  Ironically I got a message from Ghost Eddie saying he’d like to get to know me.  What did I do? I responded of course with….”We’ve already met, and you didn’t think I was worthy enough of a thanks but no thanks text or call, meeting you once was enough” and left it at that.   During lunch my friend called me and said we needed to flirt, wink and send messages to the ones we were interested in.  I sighed and agreed, I mean where were we going to get if we didn’t take some initiative right?  So I looked through the profiles and found a couple of local guys that I thought might be interesting enough to talk to.  So I sent one a wink, the other a flirt with a pre-written message that the site has for one to choose.  I logged off and went back to work after my lunch break thinking okay this isn’t so bad right?

Before I left for the day I logged back on to see if I had any new messages, I had sent a text to my friend Victoria and she said she had already talked to two guys she’d flirted with.  I saw that as promising, so I went through my inbox and found a message from one of the guys I’d sent a “flirt” to.  I felt a bit more optimistic, as I opened it and read it my optimism faded.  It read “Hi, thanks for the flirt and you seem like a nice lady but you’re not my type, good luck thanks Jim.”  This was a message from a divorced father of five, who is looking for a woman in my age range to engage in a serious relationship, and I’m not his type, what the fuck?  It hadn’t been twenty-four hours since we’d decided to undertake this frivolous plan of ours and after reading that message I deleted all my information, I closed my account and I asked for a refund.  I didn’t need to pay to get rejected by fifty-something men with unbelievably unrealistic expectations about the women they want to meet.

But right before I deleted my online profile I received a message from a guy with the call sign Nighthawk, no picture, no info nothing.  I went over to his profile to read up about him and he had all the generic taglines from the website but it did say he was 55 and that he worked for a construction consulting firm, had a masters and has been divorced for ten years.  He began asking me about myself, I thought wow something not one of these guys had done before.  So we began to talk and I left my profile alone for the next couple of hours.  Then as the day wound down, he gave me his phone number and said if I wanted to continue talking, I could text him.  Talk about a surprise…..or was it?

After reading through the messages that came through while I was talking to Nighthawk, it was enough to convince myself that one good catch was better than 68 new messages from throwbacks.  I deleted my profile and asked for my $35 back (I asked nicely but I doubt I’m going to get it back) and let my friend Victoria know.

She on the other hand had two dates lined up for last weekend, and I gave her the lowdown on safety, the emergency “bail out” call from me if she needed it and under no circumstances should she let these guys pick her up at her house.  I told her to meet them wherever they were going to go.  Reassured in the fact that I had provided my friend (who’s 56) with enough common sense dating advice, I began talking to Nighthawk via text.  Come to find he’s from Albuquerque, divorced and has one adult son.  That sounded promising, and I told him about myself and we talked for about a week until *dun, dun* his true nature began to show.

Now I’m willing to give a new person in my life the benefit of the doubt when they say things that to me might be a bit off putting as we’re getting to know each other and each other’s quirks.  But as we began to text and the couple of times we spoke on the phone, it became evident that Nighthawk had been alone way to long.  He had seen pictures of me and when I finally asked for a picture of him he gave me this lame ass excuse.

“Oh, did I tell you what happened to my phone? No? Okay so I’m at a basketball game and I’ was trying to get a picture from the bleachers and my phone fell like 60 feet to the bottom.  So the camera on my phone doesn’t work.  But I can receive pictures from anyone.”

I was like oh really, huh how odd. Then he told me his new phone was being delivered sometime next week so that’s when he’d be able to send me a picture.  But wait! There’s more! (Insert cheesy late night advert slogan here) So we began to joke around and get comfortable with each other but not comfortable enough to be absolutely devoid of decorum.  He began acting like we were in the fourth grade for god sake, asking me if I was really interested in him, he asked me the very same thing five different times.  Followed by “Do you want me as your boyfriend, yes or no?” and let’s not forget “What kind of relationship are we going to have, is it friends or will we be boyfriend/girlfriend?”  I had been temporarily sucked back in time as I saw this dude sitting at his desk in elementary school writing a note with two boxes on it that read “Check yes or no if you want me as your boyfriend” in green crayon.

Come the fuck on Bridget, act your fucking age!  But wait there’s more! I calmly answered his question for the fifteenth millionth time.  Then he said he liked the way I wore the red lipstick I had on in my picture.  I politely said thank you and that’s when he reverted to thinking with the other head (y’all know what I’m talking about.)  He said he wanted to kiss me so bad he could taste it, now keep in mind I haven’t seen him and when I asked for him to describe himself he said the following (and I quote).

“Well last time I checked my height was 5’11 and my weight is 190, eyes dark brown, hair is dark brown with a few grays.  I have an average stocky build, and a big cowboy butt.  All muscle no flat butt”

I thought okay he’s got a sense of humor, maybe……right?  But then again he began with his sophomoric questions, do you want me as your boyfriend, do want to talk to me be honest?  Ugh alright already fuck, how many times do I have to tell you I’m interested BUT we need to get to know each other better, STOP with the insecurity!  So you think it got better? No it didn’t.  We began to talk about what our ideal first date would be and he said he’d like to take me horseback riding on his ranch, then maybe a late night dinner out underneath the stars.  I was like whoa…..hold the phone here, this sounds wonderful.  Then he added “Then I’ll roll my tongue around in your mouth to get you excited and………” He didn’t use those exact words because what he said was a lot more vulgar and uncalled for, I used the PG-13 version.  I stopped him right there and asked him how long it had been since he’d had a girlfriend, he answered with “I haven’t had sex in eight years.”  I said to him “I didn’t fucking ask when the last time you had sex was, I asked when was the last time you had a girlfriend or was in a relationship.  But you know what, never mind you just answered my question.”

Online Dating Quote II

He laughed (he fucking laughed!) and said “Well you asked what our perfect first date would be and getting you in the sack would be the perfect first date for me.”  I felt myself begin to get angry, but not just regular angry, I began to feel Hulk angry.  But I tried to keep my cool, and I calmly said to him “And you know what MY perfect first date would be?” He replied “What sweetheart, you can tell me” and I said “A date with a different man” and hung up the phone.  I was furious, I hadn’t talked to this dude for longer than a week and already he was showing his true nature, he was so focused on the sex he “might” have instead of a potential relationship or friendship.  But then again I knew going into this venture it might turn out this way.  I blocked Nighthawk from my phone because I didn’t feel like I needed him to explain or apologize, because if I wanted to feel like I was a piece of meat I would have stayed with Lestat.  Did I mention he revealed he lived with his mom? Indeed, a fifty-five year old that lives with his mother….wow, just…….wow.

My friend Virginia’s dates apparently went very well, she’s got a second date with the guy she went out with on Saturday next weekend. I’m crossing my fingers for her hoping for a positive outcome.  Part two of this report will be on the advice I will give men on what women do and don’t want to hear on online dating sites.

This is the Huntress915, investigator from the Online Dating Unit *dun, dun* until next time, prepare yourselves it’s going to be a bumpy ride!


Don’t Judge A Voice By It’s Accent

Continuing my therapy sessions, Terry had asked me to go through some of my journals to evaluate my mental state at different times in my life.  The purpose of this was so that I could find something that I wrote about other than Lestat.   I have a lot of journals, the last I counted I had over 42 hand written journals and almost all of them about Lestat.  But as I skimmed through a couple from early on in my relationship with him I found a couple of entries about other things happening in my life at the time.   One entry was about a group of guys I worked with, here it is.

Back in 2002 I was working at a fire suppression company, I was the only female in the entire El Paso office.  We had a crew of fifteen service and installation techs, a sales manager and our regional manager that was based in our office.  The company’s headquarters was in Westminster Massachusetts and I spoke with our headquarters often, almost twice a day every day when it came to our office financials and tech support service calls.  We were busy for one of the smaller installations in the company, our Albuquerque office was a lot busier than we were and El Paso is considered a lot bigger, population wise.  All the service and installation techs were good guys, they had a wide variety of personalities which made our monthly staff meetings interesting and sometimes hilarious.  The service techs had to call the service support at headquarters whenever they needed new parts or service call-ins for return maintenance.

I use to talk to a wide variety of people at our main office, and after being there a couple of years I got to know them pretty well, I mean over the phone that is.  I could recognize their voices by the way they answered the phone, and vice versa.  One day one of the ladies I spoke to in our service department called me and asked me about one of our technicians and his call for some out of stock parts.  He was one of our best techs and she called me because she said she didn’t understand what his order was for.  Perplexed I called the tech over the radio and inquired about the call-in he made earlier in the day.  His name was Julian and he was a really good service tech and articulated very well over the phone and via email.  So I couldn’t understand why Maryanne (our headquarters contact) was having issues.

I got all the information from Julian so I could email her the items Julian needed for his service call the following week.  As soon as I hit send, she called me to thank me for getting everything straighten out with the tech.  I said no problem, and then out of curiosity I asked her what she didn’t understand when Julian had called her.  She said “Oh well you know what those Latino’s are like, sometimes we can’t understand them very well because of their thick accents” I was floored and a bit pissed off at the way she said what she did.  I said “Oh really? Well Julian’s been with the company way before I got here and he’s been talking to you for quite a while so why can’t you understand him all of a sudden?”  She said she’s always had a hard time understanding a lot of our technicians and that she was grateful that they finally hired a white girl for the El Paso office because now she could talk to me instead of talking to the techs herself.

I told her that out of the fifteen techs we had only six of them were Latino/Hispanic, and the other nine were white, African-American and we even had a tech from Germany.  I asked her if she had a hard time understanding them, she said “Well no, it’s only the Mexican techs.”  I could feel my blood boil underneath my skin, and I thanked her for her help and hung up.

I didn’t set her straight about her misconception that I was white, and that was on purpose, I had a plan if she continued with this attitude of hers.  I too made the assumption that she might think I was white because I didn’t have an accent, I never have.  I don’t have a regional accent, a Texas drawl or even speak “Spanglish” at work, a mix of Spanish and English, code switching if you will, I hardly speak Spanish at home.

Julian’s parts came in the following day and he came in to pick them up, he thanked me for helping him and I just told him that’s my job.  He said he didn’t understand why Maryanne would have such a hard time, and I shrugged my shoulders and said I didn’t know either.  Now I made sure to pay extra attention to how Julian spoke to me, he did not have a think “Mexican” accent, he spoke very well.  Which made me wonder why Maryanne would say something so inconsiderate.

The following couple of weeks were the same, call-ins to headquarters and return calls to my office for clarification, but only from Maryanne.  The rest of the service reps didn’t call me for help it was only her.  Then came the day when she asked me a question she’d regret for the rest of our time working together.  She called me to ask for clarification on a different tech, and then said “Oh girl I don’t know how you do it working in that border hell-hole, you should apply for a transfer to headquarters or at least to the Albuquerque office” and again my blood boiling I said nothing and finished the conversation.  In her mind she was talking to a while girl in the midst of a bunch of uneducated Hispanics with thick, incomprehensible accents.  I was tired of this racist chick and I was going to do something about it.  At that time called ID wasn’t readily available but we had a dedicated line for each of our service reps and I knew which one was Maryanne’s when she called.

The next time she called I answered the phone like this.

Me: “Tank ya for callin’ Simplex, it’s a wicked deay in El Paso, this is Veronicah how can I help ya?”

Maryanne: Um, can I speak to Veronica?

Me: It’s me, sup?

Maryanne: Are you okay?

Me: Perfect why?

Maryanne: Are you making fun of me?

Me: What mahks ya think Imma making fun of ya?

Maryanne: Well for one your fake Boston accent, it’s pretty obvious…

Me: Oh, I didn’t know I was speaking Bostonian.  What, can’t I say that I’m wicked smaht to a townie from Bahston?  I mean this mornin’ I had a hard time finding mah khakis so I was late to work….

Maryanne: Veronica I don’t appreciate your making light of my accent…..

Me: Oh really? Well then maybe you shouldn’t do the same to my techs, I know you can understand them and I also know that before I came along you were able to understand them just fine!  I don’t appreciate you making them feel second class for any reason.  And by the way I’m not white, I’m a Latina with a WICKED bad tempah, and now that you know I’m a “border town” girl you’ll guard your tone from now on!  Also, I have a hard time understanding some of the things you say as well.  That’s why I ask for you to repeat the service call tickets back to me, so maybe now you know how it feels.

Maryanne: *silence* Um, I’m sorry I didn’t know…..I just assumed that….. I have to go…*click*

Me: *in my head* That’s right bitch!

The next day I got calls from all the other service reps as normal all except Maryanne.  For three weeks after our little incident I didn’t hear from her.  Then one of the other service reps told me that Maryanne had asked for a transfer to international service, which I found ironic.  A couple of months later we had our annual Christmas gathering and we were all having a good time then Julian and Cesar came up to me and said they wanted to thank me for sticking up for them.  I had no idea what they were talking about.  That’s when Julian said that Carlos one of our other techs was in the warehouse when I had my little phone confrontation with Maryanne and heard the whole thing.

I was embarrassed to be honest, I didn’t think anyone was in the office when I decided to do what I did.  Carlos told Julian and from there all the techs and our district manager found out, and for Christmas that year they all pitched in and bought me and my boy’s fourth row tickets to go see the Transiberian Orchestra when they came to El Paso that December!  I had been talking to Julian about being able to afford to buy tickets for me and the boys, but I resolved myself to buy the boys something small for Christmas that year since I was a single mom and barely making ends meet.  I tried not to cry but I couldn’t help it, I lost it completely in front of all the techs and my manager.   From then on all of the techs and I became closer and saw them as fifteen big brothers I didn’t have before, and I appreciated them for what they did for me that Christmas.

After two and a half years with the company, they bought out another smaller company and our office was being merged with the other local office for the company Simplex took over.  I and a few of the techs were let go because they had more employees than they needed.  I got another job and lost track of those guys as we went our own separate ways.  But to this day, those were the best bunch of guys I’ve ever worked with, and I hope they are all doing well, wherever they are!


I Love You and YES I Would Turn You Into The Police!!!!

A couple of weeks ago I got into a philosophical conversation with all three of my sons during Sunday dinner.  It was a long but insightful talk among my boys and myself that turned into a revelation about who their mother is and what she would do and how far she’d go in order to keep them safe, and in turn teach them between right and wrong.  The conversation began as we sat eating our weekly Sunday dinner and were watching Animal Kingdom on FX and my middle son commented about the head of the family, which is the mother.  A mother who raised her children and nephew (all boys) to lead a life of crime.  He said that he’d never follow a mother who would chose that kind of lifestyle and if it meant not communicating with his mom he’d do it.

I agreed with him, and I said that his thought processes show that I raised him right because as a single mother I did my best to do right by my kids in every aspect of their lives.  My oldest mentioned his cousins and how their aunt (their dad’s sister) had fallen into a seedy life of bad dealings which included stealing and unfortunately drugs.  I sat there and told them that I hoped they cut ties with their cousins because they were bad news.  All three said that they had especially since their cousin, the oldest of their aunt’s sons had apparently been involved in a shooting of some sort.  I had known this, I knew that my ex-sister in law was a hypocrite of epic proportions because she claimed to be a born again Christian and yet tolerated and hid her sons activates not only from her husband but from the rest of the family and the law.

All three of my boys mentioned that they had cut ties to her and her kids because of the type of people they were but also because they,  under no circumstances wanted to be associated with such lowlifes (their words not mine but I completely agree).   I also mentioned that it was a good thing they didn’t share a last name so people couldn’t tie them to those worthless thugs.  My oldest mentioned that their aunt had hidden her oldest son from the Sheriff’s deputies when they were investigating that supposed shooting (which I have no doubt he was involved in) and lied saying he was in Mexico with his dad and that she didn’t know where they were.  I sighed and said to all three as I pointed my fork at them “If any of you were to get into that kind of shit, and I’m not saying you would, but IF you did, I’d be the first one at the police department to turn your law breaking ass in, do you hear me?!”

My youngest looked up from his pork chop, mid devour and said “Mom, you’d turn your son into the cops?” and I responded with “Abso-fucking-lutely I would, and you know why? Because I didn’t raise criminals and you’d have to pay for what you did, no matter what it was, you need to pay the price for making that choice and I’d be the one to teach you that lesson no matter how much it would hurt me.”   My middle son looked at my youngest and said “Shit, if I had to choose between going to jail or facing mom, I’d choose jail bro” and my oldest laughed and agreed with him.  Then my oldest asked me “No, really ma, in all seriousness you’d have no problem turning in your sons for whatever they did to the police?”

I looked him square in the face and said “I would have absolutely NO problem whatsoever turning you in, any of you three and that’s not because I don’t love you, it’s because I love that much” and all three looked at each other and agreed that it was easier to acknowledge that their mother would do what she could to help them stay on the straight and narrow instead of hiding their criminal behavior to the world.  After which I added “And of course because if there was a reward then mama would be rolling in it” because you know, I’m just sarcastic like that.   They all rolled their eyes and moaned that of course I would if there was a reward.  That’s when my little one asked “Then why does Aunt Chris keep hiding her boys and telling everyone that she doesn’t know where they’re at?”  I told him because she’s the reason they turned out the way they did, she spoiled them to death, gave them everything they ever wanted and not once made them earn their way or show them that life doesn’t always give you what you want.

Life will knock you on your ass and you have to learn how to navigate through that if you want to have half a chance at making your own way in the world without mommy or daddy there to bail you out of trouble, especially if YOU caused it.

We finished our Sunday dinner and as my two youngest left (with their freshly washed laundry, another reason they go over on Sunday’s) they both hugged me and my youngest said “I love you momma, and I’m proud your my mom, your my hero” and I almost cried.  Okay I did cry after they left.  As I finished cleaning the kitchen I thought to myself how absolutely blessed I am as a mother.  Sure I didn’t feel like that when I became a mother at the age of sixteen with my oldest, but they are true blessings because without them I honestly don’t know where I’d be.


I thanked God, probably for the first time ever, that he made me a mom at sixteen, because if he hadn’t I wouldn’t have three beautiful boys in my life.  Three grown men who all turned out to be responsible, hard working adults.  They have not once caused me any kind of grief other than the normal growing pains one has with kids.

All three of them have never been in any kind of trouble with the law, had friends that dragged them into questionable situations, have stolen from me, been involved with drugs or drained me of money for selfish reasons.  I thanked God for the blessings that are my boys as I opened the freezer to grab my chocolate ice cream I saw a note that said “Sorry mom, I really wanted something sweet I’ll buy you another carton when I get paid, love you, mean it, Michael” and looked up at the ceiling and said out loud “Really God? I just thanked you for those pains in the ass and now this?”

This is the Huntress915, until next time.


Why I Choose To Write This Way……It Isn’t Any of Your Business….Adriana!

I have a friend, okay maybe friend may not be what she is, an acquaintance who reads my blog but has the nasty habit of critiquing its content to death and to me unless you’ve experienced everything that I have, I don’t need critiques.   I get weekly emails on my writing, how I’m not as nice as I should be, how I can improve my writing by using spell check more often, and probably the biggest suggestion that irks the shit out of me, that I should put my actual name on my blog.  Now for many bloggers it’s not a problem for them to use their actual name, but for someone who has gone through a twenty year relationship with a married man, yeah not so much.  There aren’t many people who know about what I’ve been through, and at least a couple of them have judged me and will always judge me for my “indiscretion.” I’m not ashamed of my relationship with a narcist, what I am ashamed of is not recognizing him as a narcist sooner.

My reason for my pen name if you will, is simple if these so-called “friends” that judge me on what I’ve been through, what are people who don’t know me going to be like?  Although I have found a very supportive group of bloggers that have not judged me (NOT A SINGLE ONE) for being in a relationship with a married man for twenty years.  My blog explains why it happened and how I got here.  I am blessed to have such great blogger friends and I am so grateful and truly blessed that to date, I haven’t gotten one negative or disparaging comment on my posts about Lestat.  But this friend of mine (who will read this I’m sure) keeps telling me that I should write about things that “matter.”  Well guess what? Bloggers write about what matters to them, we don’t write for the masses or because we’re looking for approval.

Her personal opinion about what or how I write doesn’t matter to me, that’s why I never respond to her email suggestions.  In fact I ran into her this weekend at Target and the first thing out of her mouth was “Did you get my email on your blog post about Weird Co-Workers?”   To which I responded “Yes I did, but I’m not taking suggestions, I’m not a radio station or a DJ.  It’s my blog and I can write what I want anyway I want.”  She stepped back and said “They’re just suggestions, you don’t have to get so defensive about it” I looked at her, studied her body language and then changed the subject asking about her husband.  She said he was doing fine and that they were soon planning a trip to Florida to visit his brother.  The conversation turned quickly again to my blog and I quickly thought to myself, do I need this person in my life? Is this person worth all the aggravation she causes me on a weekly basis? Does she not realize that we’re not close like BFF’s?  Should I cut cord here as well, and I quickly decided yes, I’m going to.  I let her tell me what else she thought I should change on my blog.

She referenced that by not putting my name on my blog I’m de-legitimizing my writing (whatever that means) she’s got two bachelor’s degrees, one in English Lit and the other in Business and for a long time she made me feel like I lacked education or writing skills.  She kept rambling on about how I should change the background on my blog because if I didn’t want anyone to know who I was I should take that picture of downtown El Paso off of it.

That was it, I was at the boiling point with her, but I let her finish her almost fifteen minute redundant exhortation about the things I should change on my blog.  She finished with “I’m just trying to help you be a better writer and person in general, that’s what friends are for after all, right?”  I sighed loudly as I leaned up against my shopping cart, as I saw she was about to get a second wind at her hypocritical diatribe.  I said to her “Friends aren’t to tell you when you’ve done something wrong, they don’t call you on each and every mistake you’ve made.  Friends don’t constantly try to make you feel less of a person and they certainly don’t point out flaws when they themselves lack character in their own personality.”  She looked kind of flushed because she knew I was referring to her.  She had had an affair about six years ago with her own brother in law (yeah sorry it’s going to go in here) and her mother in law caught the two in their own “indiscretion.”  So as prim and proper as she made herself out to be, she’s just as guilty of the things she accuses me of in her constant badgering emails, and I will tolerate a lot of things but hypocrisy isn’t one of them.

She stood back and her expression changed drastically, her perfectly made-up face was beginning to harden and her eyes began to widen as I continued “I know you consider yourself a friend of mine, but I have plenty of friends who don’t judge me on a daily basis.  I don’t need nor want your critiques on my writing or blog content.  If you want you should start a blog yourself and do everything you suggest I do.  But I’m going to say this as nice as possible, I’m going to block you from my email but I can’t block you from my blog since you don’t have a WordPress account.  But be warned I will include you in my blog because my “real” friends are loyal and compassionate and frankly I have three great BFF’s and you are not one of them.  So if you ever see me again, just walk the other way.”  She stepped back and said “Well,  you’re just rude if you ask me I would…..” I interrupted “That’s just it, I didn’t fucking ask you! I never have! And FYI that’s why you have no actual friends, everyone you know are only acquaintances because I don’t think you know how to be a real friend, to anyone.”

I was trying to keep my anger in check as people in the isle we were in were beginning to gather to watch the verbal showdown we were having among the Clorox and laundry detergent.  I finally heard Terri’s voice in my head saying “Remember when you meet someone who is trying to point “issues” they “think” you might have, they are the ones with the issues not you.”  All of this was going on in a matter of minutes but it seemed like hours, and I was done with this person.  Terri said that sometimes friends run their course in your life if they no longer contribute positively or encourage you, but only point out flaws and exude negativity, it’s time to cut them lose.  For once I didn’t stay and argue (imagine that?) I didn’t stand my ground because I already knew I was right after all it was about my blog, and I can write what I want on my fucking blog!  I looked at this person as she began to try and point out how unsophisticated I was for starting a fight in the detergent isle at Target.  I took my shopping cart and walked past her and almost made it to the end of the isle and thought, fuck it! I turned around and she was still looking at me and flipped her off, laughed and walked away.  Not the proudest moment of my life but it’s an improvement of challenging said “acquaintance” to a shiv fight in the parking lot in between the shopping cart corrals yelling “Come on bitch you hit like a girl! I’m going to rip those pearls off your neck and shove them so far up your ass not event the ER doctors will be able to find them!” until some random shopper called the cops on us, okay on me.


She once called my language “ghetto” in nature and I ignored her, but you now what? I am who I am and I don’t pretend to be perfect.  My language may be ghetto in nature, my writing may not be Pulitzer Prize winning, my life may be less than stellar (her words not mine, all in emails about my blog) but this is who I am.   This is me and if you don’t like it to fucking bad, I compromise nothing for anyone especially since dealing with an emotional sucking vampire like Lestat.  What you see is what you get and I may not be everyone’s cup of tea but that’s okay by me, I will not conform to fit anyone’s ideology.  I need to go sharpen my shiv now, I’ll be back!

This is the Huntress915, until next time.


Lets Talk About Weird Co-Workers…….Part II

In the office where I work we have a wide variety of personalities and that makes for interesting conversations, very interesting conversations.  For instance, we have “Jack the Knife” a woman who works in our compliance division who only shows up when there’s food, hence why we call her Jack the Knife (her name is Jackie).  She comes by knowing (miraculously) when food is around.  She then proceeds in piling her plate sky high with whatever freebies there are and then locks herself in her office never to be seen again until the next food-venture.  I walked by her office one day and saw piles of paper and ceramic plates with half eaten food all over her desk and credenza.  We, myself and the Lead Budget Analyst who works in our office get a kick out of the almost comical characters we deal with.  He’s probably the only normal person (aside from myself, I saw that stop it!) and we get along great.  He has a wicked sense of humor and always manages to make me laugh, so we kind of came up with different nicknames for some of the “colorful” people that work with us, Jack the Knife being one of many.

Other than Female Sheldon and Jack the Knife we have a director who is a nice lady, I should day girl because she’s younger than I am, but she has issues, and we’ve christened her “PigPen.”  She is a PhD and is a nice person to work with but there was something I couldn’t quite figure out about her and one day another coworker from another department gave me some insight about PigPen.  She said she use to work in this department but up on the third floor in the research lab.  She told me “whatever you do, do NOT stand close to PigPen” and of course being the person I am I asked her why?  She said PegPen adheres to the Halley Barry school of hair-care and doesn’t wash her hair but a couple of times a month.  My friend told me that PigPen has really curly hair and has to straighten it out, so another reason why she doesn’t wash her hair often.  Ewwww, just ewwww……

Which would explain why every time I was standing behind or even remotely close to her I could smell something close to wet dog or wet trash.  She’s part of the “No-Poo” movement not shampooing her hair on a regular basis because it stays healthier and is better for your scalp, it keeps the essential oils and all that bullshit.  This No-Poo movement is not something I would partake in because I wash my hair every day, and my hair doesn’t mess with me too much. I use what I have to, to keep it as clean and healthy as possible.  So now I steer clear of PigPen at every possible chance because I don’t think she realized that her habit of not washing her hair is causing a stink, literally and I’m not the only one who’s noticed.  The budget analyst (who I’m going to call JP) walked into the kitchen this morning and PigPen was in there heating up her breakfast and he walks up to me and says “Is the garbage disposal clogged up again, because it stinks” and I just shrugged my shoulders and left the kitchen.  That’s how bad is smells.  This woman is a director in our department, a PhD, she deals with people all day long smelling like wet dog.

I wonder how much she thinks everyone around her don’t notice how bad her hair really stinks?  I mean why would you put your coworkers through that?  It’s common sense that when you don’t wash something, that needs washing it’s going to stink eventually.

This is TheHunress915, over and out!


A Blog Post in Song and Movie Quotes

Last week was an interesting week at work, I found myself in different stressful and annoying situations which to me were comical (after the fact).  Some of them may or may have not induced weekend drinking, I’ll let you decide.

Monday: I put on what seemed like a nice outfit only to find that the dress I was wearing was translucent, really translucent and probs why it was in the back of my closet.  It was so translucent that I now have only white or black underpants.  It wasn’t until I got to work and Female Sheldon shouted (I MEAN FUCKING SHOUTED) “Oh my gawd! You can see your underwear!” My inner voice was like “I’m about to do to you what Limp Bizkit did to music in the late 90’s” (Deadpool, 2016).  It didn’t matter that my VP was conducting medical student interviews, nah it was totally okay. Because on Monday I chose to wear bright pink underpants….you make the connection, mortifying.  Running on Empty by Jackson Brown.

Tuesday: Dr. Raj Houston was still in town and as I hadn’t talked to him since walking away and calling him Felicia after he said I reminded him of his ex-wife. So it was an awkward moment when our VP was walking him around our office to introduce him to everyone (apparently their friends from med school).  Talk about awkward silence, then he stuck his hand out and my VP introduced him, I shook his hand and he looked at me.  Before anything was said my VP ushered him away to the next person.  I thought I had lost him for good when low and behold ten minutes later he makes his way back to my office.  He says “I didn’t get you information last week so we could go to dinner” and I look at him and said “Seriously? Why would you think I’d still want to out with you after what you said?” He looked confused, I just walked away.

“Sell crazy someplace else. We’re all stocked up here” (As Good As It Gets, 1997). Mama He’s Crazy by The Judds.

Wednesday: I had a training and was paired up with….you guessed it Female Sheldon.  “I’m here to cooperate with you a hundred percent. A hundred percent. I’ll be just right down the line with ya’. You watch” (One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, 1975)

Fifty Shades of Crazy by Chase Rice.


Thursday: I found myself in HR, because I walked out on the training I had with Female Sheldon on Weds.  But in my defense I argued my case.

HR Rep: We need to know why you thought you didn’t need the mandatory training.

Me: I never said I didn’t need it, I left because I was aggravated.

HR Rep: Aggravated by whom? The person giving the training?

Me: No by the person I was assigned to take the training “with.”

HR Rep: Looking through her paper work and humming Hellagood by No Doubt, and then she say’s “Oh….I see.”  Well….

Me: Why am I in here? Why isn’t Female Sheldon here and why are you not asking her why she still, after all the HR talks, and trainings and warnings about her staying away from me is she STILL IN MY FACE?!?

HR Rep: She’s not like, in your face.

Me: Can we talk like we’re NOT in the movie Clueless?

HR Rep: What?

Me: Nothing.

HR Rep: We’ll talk to Female Sheldon again but if this, thing between the two of you doesn’t stop one of you is going to be written up.

Me: Are you serious, me written up!? (Okay yes that’s happened before but not at this job) I’ve been the one to steer clear of her all the time.  Beside I thought that our department and HR knew we shouldn’t be paired together for anything, or am I wrong?  I avoid her on purpose and yet she still doesn’t get why she needs to not be so loud, vulgar, yes vulgar and maybe you all need to test her for some sort of disorder.  A disorder that proves she needs help, and I’m not talking about help with her job I’m talking mental health.

HR Rep: That’s profiling.

Me: NO that’s a fact.

HR Rep: *sigh*

Me: That’s profiling.

When life gives you lemons, just say fuck the lemons and bail (Forgetting Sarah Marshall, 2008).   Everything about You by Ugly Joe Kid.


Friday: Everyone in my department was told to “volunteer” for an upcoming symposium our VP is having next week.  I pondered that for a while, if your told to volunteer then it isn’t volunteering right?  So I was “voluntold” and I have no say in this matter whatsoever.  I made it clear I definitely wanted Female Sheldon as far away from me as possible.

“I’m not crazy M’lyn I’ve just been in very bad mood for forty years” Ouisa, Steel Magnolias (1988.)  Psycho Killer by The Talking Heads.

This is TheHuntress915, over and out!


A Stranger’s Life Lesson…….Sorry not Sorry Mom!

Yesterday after work I had to go to Target to pick up a few things because it’s mid-week and thought I’d make my weekly Target or Walmart run to distract myself from my new rowing machine which is intent on killing me (I’m going to call my rowing machine Cilantro because I hate cilantro.). But I know I need to use it and I am, but I will not let cilantro defeat me!  In any case, I’m wandering around Target picking up Ziploc bags, hair color and a bag of pretzels I absolutely have to have.  Then I make my way to the makeup section where as I’m perusing through all the ageless, age defying, wrinkle preventing “magical” makeup I see an older woman standing there with her reading glasses on, white hair quaffed into a perfect (I mean perfect) bun, seemingly flawless make up and dressed impeccably.  So for me this seems a bit weird, as it’s 5:45pm and those of us that are at the Target this time of day are in shorts, yoga pants or in my case my go to jeans and my University of Michigan t-shirt (reminder, need a new Michigan t-shirt).

I walk past her and I can smell Channel No. 5 on her which to me is an overpowering scent. I remember my mom’s friend saying only “Rich white women wear to intimidate.” And what she meant by ‘intimidate” is that it stunk to high hell.  This scent is definitely only for people who really love it because I have to agree it’s a powerful smell.  Anyway as I passed her she turns to me and says “Hi darlin’ can you help me here?” and I turned and responded “of course how can I help?”

She held up a small vial of some miracle serum for anti-whatever and said to me “I can’t make out the small print, can you see it, what does it say?” She held up her hand, and I saw a beautiful pearl bracelet with a pink gem clasp.  Her nails were perfect and as I brought the small vial closer to my face I realized there is no way anyone could read that tiny print.  I had to let her know I needed to put my reading glasses on and she laughed and said “Well then it seems we’re both in trouble then” and I laughed right along with her.  During this entire encounter I never once looked straight at her face, it wasn’t on purpose I just didn’t.  Then I put my reading glasses on and began to read her the miniscule print on the back of this tiny bottle.  After which she said thank you and I finally turned to look straight at her, what caught my attention was that she had beautiful deep green eyes and some signs of Botox.  But that’s not what surprised me, her lipstick was bleeding into the small crevices around her lips, all of her lips.  She had a soft pink shade of lipstick and it was running into each small wrinkle of her lips which looked like pink paint running from a canvas into each individual wrinkle outside her mouth.  It was very, VERY obvious.

I stood there pondering if I should tell her or not, I mean I didn’t want to embarrass her or make her feel awkward.  But she talked to me like we’d been friends for the longest time, everything about this woman was perfect except her lipstick.  So I decided to tell her, and she said “Oh damn, I can’t find a good lipstick that doesn’t do that.  I’ve tried every, how do you young girls say, hacks and nothing works for me.”  My eyes widened at the comment made that she considered me a “young” girl, which made me laugh.  I told her that I was far from young and she looked at me as she took a tissue from her purse and wiped away all traces of her lip color.  She looked at me up and down, assessing my physical appearance.  She then said “Of course you are, you are what? About thirty-five?” as her hand moved the tissue back and forth on her lips.

I was flattered, and laughed and said “No, I’m about to turn fifty actually” as I looked into my basket to straighten a bottle of wine that had fallen over, wine to drown the impending fiftiness away.  She said to me that I didn’t look like I was about to turn fifty.  She must have sensed that I wasn’t exactly thrilled about the idea of turning fifty so she said “You know, fifty is a good age to start an adventure, it’s also a great time to live your live according to your own rules.  Don’t look at turning fifty as a curse or something negative it should be the best time of your life.  Fifty now isn’t like fifty in the actual 1950’s, women look younger at fifty now then back then.  You don’t look forty-nine, and fifty is only months away and you won’t look it then either so stop worrying.”  I tried not to let the tears well up in my eyes because I wish my own mother would impart words of wisdom like this instead of telling me I should cut my hair short now that I’m going to officially be middle-aged.  My mother believes that women, all women over fifty should have short hair, and I mean like a ten year old boy type of haircut.  I mentioned to her my mom’s idea of women’s haircuts after fifty.

This beautiful lady stuck her hand out to shake mine and introduced herself as Monica.  And I introduced myself and she said “Oh, what a lovely name, I’ve always thought of Veronica as such a mysterious and glamorous vixen type of name.”  I told her my mom named me after Veronica Lodge from the Archie comics.  She laughed and put her hand on my shoulder and said “Well then you should take that and run with it.”  Then she said “I hope you have a very happy and wonderful fiftieth birthday this year.  Don’t let your moms antiquated idea of what fifty should be cloud what you want your fiftieth decade to turn out like.  You make it what you want it to be, follow your own rules, passions, interests but most of all it’s your life so live it the way YOU want to. You have beautiful hair, don’t cut it to appease someone else if you like the way you look.”  She told me her mother was a free spirit and believed in her children finding their own sense of self, not following others ideas.  She went on to tell me that she raised four children, worked as a secretary at a local school district and then when she retired she decided to work on herself.

She told me she started to walk, then run then began to lift weights to maintain her muscle mass, eat healthier and she admitted to Botox every so often.  She said at sixty she underwent a mini-facelift but she stopped there because she didn’t want to be one of those women that “looked” like their entire middle age was devoted to plastic surgery.   I smiled and then before she walked away I whispered “If you don’t mine me asking……..” but before I even finished what I was going to say she leaned in close and said “I’m 82” smiled, winked at me and walked away.  If I had to guess her age I would say she looked like she was in her early sixties.  As she walked away and I felt a bit better about my impending fiftieth birthday, I walked along the aisles of the Target with confidence in my step and like I rocked the go-to jeans I was wearing and not once did I care that I had no makeup on.

As I walked to the self-checkout I began to scan my items and I looked up once and that’s all it took for my self-confidence to deflate like an old party balloon.  The high definition cameras at the self-checkouts are horribly intense and make you, make anyone look like the worst version of your physical self.  Then after paying for my items I walked to my car thinking, I really do need a face lift after seeing myself in those stupid checkout cameras. As I get into my car I get a phone call from my mother.  She never asks how I’m doing, she only calls to complain about her, what or how she feels, what my dad’s done wrong or to tell me someone she knew died.  She asked me what I was doing and I told her that I was at Target buying shampoo and other stuff.  Then she begins her entire diatribe about why I should cut my hair and how she did when she turned fifty.

Then I thought to myself OH FUCK THIS SHIT and told her that she had cut her hair way before she turned fifty.  And then I told she needed to stop telling me to cut my hair and that I didn’t need to ask her permission to do anything in my life.  She yelled at me that I was ridiculous, that I wasn’t thirty anymore and that I was never going to find another husband at my age and I should just give in and take care of my parents.  My mother is a narcist, she’s always only cared about herself and it’s not easy growing up the daughter of a narcissistic mother.  I also believe she has Munchausen’s, making herself sick or acting sick purely for the attention, but that’s another story.  What I’ve learned from my therapist is that narcisst’s don’t like push back, and I’ve learned to push back and HARD.  Right there in the parking lot of the Target, I let loose on my self-serving mother and told her that I was never going to move in with my parents to take care of them.  That I was never going to give up what remained of my life to be their caretaker because they failed to financially plan for their old age (totally another story).  I’m not nice with my mother when she gets like this and this happens all the time.  I also told her that even if I didn’t find another husband I wasn’t going to put all my hopes and dreams on a man.  I can and have lived for twenty one years without a husband, then of course she threw my relationship with Lestat in my face.  I told her that I’m glad I saw him for who he was even though it took twenty years rather than stay married to someone like her for fifty only to realize that is was a mistake, of course throwing in it was my dad I was talking about.

I also pulled out the big guns, something Terri my therapist told me to say when it got this way with my mother.  Terri said that narcissistic mothers are jealous of their daughters especially when their daughters are accomplished in every aspect of their lives in spite of the down turns or hardships.  That’s when I told her that I had a life and didn’t need a husband to make it fulfilling, that I had educated myself, was independent financially and physically and in the process of buying a house on my own.  I said that I look good for forty-nine and she looked sixty at forty-nine, was overweight, controlling and miserable.

She stayed annoyingly quiet, all I could hear was her breathing into the phone and the anger she was feeling boil over.  Then the coup de gras, I told her that I will cut my hair the day I bury her ass six feet under! Her only defense? She hung up on me, that’s typical mom for you but I’ve lived with her and her narcissistic attitude for forty nine years.  My defenses have gotten good, almost emotionally deadly thanks to Terry the Wonder Therapist and I’m not sorry! Now in my mother’s defense (not often I say that shit) she was beautiful when she was young, well at least I thought so.

Mom Pic

This is mom (age 22) and her boyfriend who was in the Air Force, his name was Dave, obviously she didn’t wind up marrying him.  But kept their picture all these years for some reason.

Mom 18 Yrs

This is mom age 18

But as I grew up I had this distorted version of her in my mind but never really having an image to compare it to.  That is until the Disney movie The Little Mermaid came out, and low and behold Ursula became my mother, boy haircut and all.


So yesterday’s relaxing shopping trip was both encouraging and discouraging.  But my take away was/is that a strangers wise words meant more to me than the selfish words from my mother and that is what I’m going to hang onto.  I refuse to allow what my mother’s warped version of middle age to rule my thinking, life or self-image.  A beautiful stranger gave me some valuable pearls of wisdom and I will not be derailed into thinking that when I turn fifty my life is over, as my mother would have me believe.  So now I’ve decided to plan for myself a birthday party for the big 5-0, only the second birthday part of my entire life, and it’s gonna be a hellava party y’all! Even if it’s only me, Rocco and Jerry (neighbors dogs) Charlie my cat and some awesome bloody Mary’s!

This is me, two months ago…..

V. Anaya


Come on, Talk to Me Raj…… Oh wait Never mind.

Anyone who has ever seen the series The Big Bang Theory knows the story line of Rajesh Koothrappali and his inability to talk to women for the first couple of seasons of the show that is of course unless he’s consumed alcohol.  Why am I bring up this topic? Well, let me explain, before I began my blog I had this idea in my head that I could not possibly meet anyone “IRL” ever, and I do mean EVER again.  Online dating is as you know, was a torturous nightmare for me so I resolved to accept that meeting anyone face to face as they say was never going to happen.  Yet last week there was a research conference where I work, medical research to be exact and our vice-president strongly encouraged us to attend a session or two.  I’ve always found these types of conferences very interesting, yes I know I’m boring but it pertains to my job.

In any case we had a presenter from Houston, he is an older gentleman (when I say older that usually means about five to ten years older than I am) an endocrinologist from the greater Houston area and a faculty member at UT Houston.  We met during one of the breaks in between sessions at a social mixer.  I stood with another colleague as I managed to lose Female Sheldon in the crowd of people, but I could hear her “Oh my gawd, are you serious?” from across the entire lobby, like a squawking seagull.  Dr. Houston made his way to our table and introduced himself and we in turn did the same.  He kept asking me if we knew each other and I told him that I’d think I’d remember having a friend who was a doctor.  He laughed and my colleague might have sensed this magnetic attraction because she excused herself.  As she walked away gave me the cheesy thumbs up as if I had just managed to run into Jeffery Dean Morgan in the lobby.

But after she left Dr. Houston stopped talking, which made me think he might have wanted to talk to her and I should have been the one to walk away and do the cheesy thumbs up at her while grabbing an entire tray of appetizers and eat them alone in a dark corner as the research people walked by.  But that wasn’t the case, I suppose, because we stood there doing the awkward smile, laugh, clear you throat, smile, laugh dance until I asked him about himself.  So here is where Rajesh comes in, as part of my online dating nightmares the one thing that bothered the shit out of me was someone’s inability to hold a conversation.  I’m talking in person, on the phone, email or via text, this entire “let me ask you questions and you give me one word answers” shit get old, and it tires the fuck out of me.  So I kept asking Dr. Houston questions, I only got one word responses and not once did he even attempt to reciprocate and as the girl walking around with the tray of wine glasses (yes we had one day of this conference that had wine, it was held in the evening, it was the only day I went) I grabbed another full glass of wine.

As I did I caught him looking at me and I must have given him that “what are you looking at?” look.  He then cleared his throat and said “You’re really pretty” and said “thank you” and downed the glass of Chardonnay in one gulp.  This flattery was going to get him nowhere, okay it did as I proceeded to ask him about himself yet again.  He began to loosen up with each glass of wine (just like Raj) and began to talk more.  He said he had been divorced for eight years, had a son who was in the Navy and his youngest son who was still in college.  Everything seemed to be going great after that, our conversation began to have some depth, and interesting enough he told me he would be presenting next.  I said “Oh really? Well then I can’t wait to hear what your topic is going to be on.”

As he looked at me and I thought to myself, this man is good looking, smart and a doctor what else could I want? Yes okay I was jumping the gun, I knew that ten minutes before he couldn’t manage one single declarative sentence and now I saw matching SUV’s, vacations in the Bahamas and an Island wedding, so sue me I’ve been single for a long time. Okay that’s not true either but Lestat doesn’t count as a legitimate relationship here! In any case he asked me if I’d like to have dinner the next day, and I said “That sounds lovely” and he smiled.  It was either the wine or euphoria of being noticed after my Titanical relationship and online dating debacles, but for only a split second everything felt right with the world.  We heard a bell from inside the auditorium signal the end of the social mixer, as he drank the last of his wine, he turned to me and said “You know, I don’t know how you’re going to take this but…….you remind me and kind of look like my ex-wife.”

All at once I had flashbacks of the rental truck and the fence, and in my head my inside voice was like, leave now just walk away before you say anything stupid.

I stood there staring at him as if trying to make sense of what just came out of his mouth and then I said the cheesiest thing I’d ever said in my life (it might have been the wine)…“Houston, we have a problem……bye FELICIA!” (it was definitely the wine) and walked away out the side door back to my office to retrieve my purse trying to balance myself on my high heels and doing my damndest to look sophisticated (okay I burped out loud).


I had one and a half glasses of wine that evening but the weight of what Dr. Houston said brought me back to being stone cold sober.  I got my purse and keys to my car and drove home saying to myself out loud “I don’t know how you’re going to take this?! You remind me of my ex-wife?! I remind him of his fucking ex-wife?!?!….Ugh!”  Dr. Raj Houston couldn’t hold a conversation until he’d had a couple of drinks in him and then he managed to say what is probably one of the worst things you can say to a woman, any women especially one you just met, that you remind them of their ex-wife! The constant comedic escapades that are my life never stop.

Until next time, this is the Huntress915 over and out!


Imitation Isn’t Always the Sincerest Form of Flattery. (My first Serious or Semi-Serious Post)

A couple of weeks ago I was at home in the middle of my Friday night routine of making dinner, and watching my usual Friday night lineup of the Cool Kids on Fox followed by either 20/20 or Dateline.  That Friday night I chose 20/20 and that particular episode was titled “The Dropout.”  This episode documented the rise and fall of Elizabeth Holmes the 35 year old entrepreneur and creator of Theranos, a company she claimed would be able to run over 200 blood tests on a single, teeny tiny drop of blood.


This is Theranos “Nanotainer”

Holmes claimed that the small amount of blood collected would then be put into a machine she called The Edison (another fraud if you ask me, we all know that Tesla was way better at his inventions and wasn’t a raging egotist) that would run over 200 blood tests. My question is, where is the FDA in all of this?

The Edison

This “machine” supposedly would run a series of blood tests on that small amount of blood in under 4 hours.

Too good to be true? Yes, yes it was and not only did she deceive many of her multi-million dollar investors she also keeps up the falsity of her persona, which according to 20/20 she modeled after Steve Jobs.  She even dropped out of Stanford at the age of nineteen, it seems she took this Steve Jobs imitation just a bit too far. Did she really think she’d be successful if she dropped out of college like Steve Jobs, Bill Gates, Mark Zuckerberg and others? For a while maybe, but then everything went pear shaped.

She also began to dress like Jobs, in black turtlenecks and black two piece suits (creepy? Abso-fucking-lutely) never falling out of character in front of her employees, board members or the press.  What struck me the most odd is that in spite of her emulating Steve Jobs, which for a woman is just plain icky weird, was that she faked her deep baritone voice, that’s right if that doesn’t say psychopath what does?

Homes PT Barnum

If you have to actively change your voice in order for people to take you seriously, then there are bigger issues at play here than pretending to be something you’re not.  How do people know she’s not a baritone? One of her former employees that was interviewed in the 20/20 episode said that during a Christmas party a few years back, she had one too many cocktails and fell out of character and spoke in her “normal” voice.  Which according to this former employee was high pitched and more feminine. There are even a couple of YouTube videos of her speaking in her “real” voice.  Which was also corroborated by a former professor of hers from Stanford, saying that when she was in college, she didn’t talk that way.

The definition of a psychopath is someone that has superficial charm, inflated sense of self-worth, pathologically lies, lacks remorse or guilt, shallow emotions, conning others and being manipulative.  Now Elizabeth Holmes’ has a lot of these traits and behaviors because she seemed to just seemed drink in the attention of being the darling of Silicon Valley. Giving interviews about her company and her invention, which was still not working the way she claimed, and speaking in that deep fake voice of hers.  What she thought she’d gain from faking her voice or dressing like Steve Jobs one will never know, but the in-authenticity of it all just makes you wonder why someone would go through all that trouble to be someone or something they’re not?  The Silicon Valley mantra of “fake it until you make it” seems to be taken to heart by Holmes in every aspect of her identity.  But I suppose that’s what a psychopath does, they pretend to be something they’re not.   Holmes has shown no remorse over the fraud she committed and still insists that her product works despite her former lab staff and software engineers saying it’s never did.

According to many of her former employees there is no way for over 200 blood tests to can be done on such a small amount of blood.  A reporter for the Wall Street Journal named John Carreyrou launched an investigation into Theranos and Holmes claims about her product.  He questioned employees of hers wanting to know about how Holmes’ “super invention” worked.  And no one could explain how it worked, all they could do is tell him how it didn’t work, you can read his original WSJ article here.  Even being indicted on Federal charges, nine counts of wire fraud to be exact, she is still (STILL) using her fake baritone voice.  But why? I suppose she’s so delusional that she thinks people will still take her seriously even though her world is crumbling down around her if she still “pretends” to be successful.  She just might be delusional enough to think her faded glory might come back and shine a light on her once again, not likely.

Her ability to convince people of her accomplishments was astounding, she was even invited to speak at a commencement ceremony at Pepperdine University.  Not having graduated herself she spoke in front of a graduating class, spewing her “knowledge” and “experience” to a group of students who accomplished what she couldn’t, get their degrees.  The act never stops, but maybe the Federal Government might force her to give up her false sense of inflated ego.

Maybe dropping out of Stanford was something Elizabeth Holmes shouldn’t have done, and yet somehow she was invited back to her alma mater (is it though if you never graduated?) to speak to a chemical engineering class after she started her fake company Theranos.  In the 20/20 episode she says “At this point I didn’t think that a couple more classes in chemical engineering were going to help with what I wanted to do.”

YES! I definitely think it would have helped since what she was doing involved micro and nano fluidics and had she graduated maybe her “invention” and her company would have been successful.  Instead she created a culture at her company of lying,  hiding from her employees how her product had failed, touted her successful company that even Walgreen’s bought into it and fired everyone that questioned her claims of how her product was being used in Medivac helicopters and emergency rooms, which they weren’t she was lying yet again.  If she had finished college maybe she wouldn’t have put peoples lives in danger with her false advertising and selfish personality.  But then again a psychopath has no sense of remorse so maybe if she had graduated from Stanford she might have killed someone with her invention.

In the words of a famous Warner Bros star (Bugs Bunny) what a Maroon! Elizabeth Holmes is not Steve Jobs, not even close, in fact I think Jobs himself would be spinning in his grave at this cheap wannabe knockoff.  So in this case imitation is definitely not the sincerest form of flattery.  It’s like a counterfeit designer handbag, they are thousands out there and easy to buy but if you try and pass it of as real, once someone’s found out about it, they will never let you forget it.


Lets Talk About…..Weird Co-Workers

Sometimes we’re blessed with great jobs and those jobs come with coworkers that might or might not be perfect.  I have been fortunate enough to have found a job that not only is what I’d been studying for in Grad School but where the office environment is definitely not toxic.  Because I have been there, toxic office, toxic people toxic reverberations of emotional distress and anger.  I once worked in a grant office with a female director who refused to email anyone any instructions because she didn’t want any of her employees coming back and referring to her emails.  This was because she was almost always wrong about a lot of things, ALWAYS.

And let me tell you this bitch needed her emails referenced, let me share how she’d “direct” things to her staff.  I worked there as the business manager and I was in charge of the inventory as well as grant cost sharing with local school districts.  She would leave sticky notes on my computer screen with instructions and/or things she needed me to do.  So I would come in the next morning and literally have my computer screen covered in multicolored sticky notes in her handwriting.  I thought to myself, does she really think I can’t reference this?  What did I do?  I put those sticky notes on a sheet of paper and I would scan it, then I’d email it to her and tell her “As per the sticky note you left on my computer on July 14, 2014, you are asking me to retrieve signatures on the cost sharing forms from Mr. XXXXX, is that correct?”

She’d come to my office in a hissy and tell me not to scan and email her “notes” back to her, and I would tell her that I was going to continue doing it until she decided what form of communication was appropriate to use.  Did I mention she was fifty-eight years old and liked to wear leather pants and leopard print tops to work? Talk about trying to relive one’s youth.  In any case dealing with weird coworkers can be somewhat trying.  Right now I have a coworker that I’m going to refer to as the female Sheldon.  She is extremely inappropriate when she speaks and when she speaks she freaking YELLS.  Her office is on the other side of the building, and I can still hear her talking on the phone.  Also, she knows nothing of personal space but yet she doesn’t like to be touched (are you listening Maggie?) and no matter how many times you tell her to back the fuck up, she just looks at you with those dead shark eyes of hers.

Shark Eyes Cartoon

Yes, she has dead shark eyes and because of this one can’t tell if she understands what you are telling her.  I’ve gotten so frustrated with her that sometimes when she invades my personal space I walk closer to her and begin to touch her with my index finger, just poking her over and over near her shoulder until she backs away.  Of course this causes her to start yelling “Oh God, don’t touch me!”  And then I yell back “Then back the fuck up and get out of my face!” And for those of you wondering yes, we have been called into HR for this because it is a constant thing.  Now Female Sheldon has issues, a lot of them but she’s a good research administrator so she knows her shit.  But then again so do I, and since we both started in our department around the same time we’ve been working together longer than anyone else here with the exception of our bosses.

Female Sheldon is also (dare I say it?) a vegetarian.  So whenever we have potlucks or birthday lunches it’s always a fucking clusterfuck decision about who is going to bring something “veggie” for Female Sheldon.  Sometimes I just want to tackle her in the kitchen and literally force feed her ass a goddamned meatball! In any case it occurred to me that Female Sheldon might actually have Asperger’s or something to that effect.  Because when we’re in staff meetings everyone expresses themselves in a positive or negative way on topics of discussion. But Female Sheldon sits there with her dead shark eyes and stares straight ahead.  When someone asks her a questions she responds in a robotic voice.  But then you hear her on the phone and she’s all “Oh my gawd, really? Oh my gawd I can’t believe it. Oh my gawd what do you mean the submission date changed? Oh my gawd!”  That’s all I hear her say is “Oh My Gawd” I can almost see her, sitting at her desk staring straight at the wall with those dead shark eyes, stone faced and the only thing moving are her thin, annoying lips.

And what’s worse is that Female Sheldon comes to my desk to ask me what I’m up to and then I tell her and she just stands there, staring at me.  Once I snapped my fingers at her and she yelled “Oh my gawd, why’d you do that for? It’s so loud, I’m right here!” And I replied with “I know, I’m busy go back to your office and let me work” but did she leave? No she fucking didn’t like she didn’t understand one word of what I had said.  So I got up to go to the vending machines in the hallway.  As I’m standing there mulling over my purchase, I feel breath on the back of my neck and there she is, fucking female Sheldon INVADING MY PESONAL SPACE AGAIN! At this point I really wanted to punch her so hard, I had never wanted to watch anyone bleed so bad in my life.  Okay I have, my ex-husband, his mother, Lestat, his wife…..but you get what I’m saying right?

I’ve brought this to my supervisor’s attention as I’m not the only one that she does this too and they called her in to “talk” to her. I doubt she understood anything because we all know Female Sheldon Dead Shark eyes don’t understand a damned thing!  She finally started to keep her distance, then one day while we were celebrating birthdays in the conference room, Female Sheldon was standing outside of the conference room (our conference room is all glass walls/windows) and our director was asking “Why is Female Sheldon standing on the outside in the hallway?”  I turned to look and there was Female Sheldon, on the outside of the conference room holding her cup of coffee staring at everyone with her dead shark eyes and no expression on her face.  I tapped on the window and asked her “What are you doing? Come in and get some cake” and she said she was told to stay away from me, her voice muffled by the thick glass between us.

I had just taken a sip of my coffee and I totally lost it, I couldn’t contain my laughter I mean I was dying, buckling over in pain laughing.  I could not for the life of me contain the laughter, the type of hilarity that doesn’t even allow you to speak.  Not to mention that I had spit out my coffee because of her response.  Then a couple of other people started to laugh and then our director went out to the hallway to tell her that’s not what what she meant by staying away with me.  So this is what has lead me to believe that Female Sheldon, this 31 year old female who surprisingly has a husband (makes me wonder, she’s married but I can’t even find a date online, I mean hello what is wrong with this picture?) might actually have some antisocial disorder.  Hence why I call her Female Sheldon, she takes things literally like being told she had to stay away from me, and standing outside the conference room walls while we celebrated our department’s staff birthdays.

This is only one in a long string of weird co-workers I have had the unfortunate opportunity to work with.  Unfortunate because although she is smart, she continually says inappropriate things all the damned time.  Like when I got my Master’s degree, she said “Oh you finished already? Wow your program must have not been hard because I’m still not done.” I’m like what the fuck? So I just calmly responded with “Maybe it’s not so much that my program wasn’t hard, maybe it’s that you’re just too dumb to finish yours” okay that was below the belt but really what kind of comment was that about my graduate program? She had no expression, as mentioned before just sat there with those dead shark eyes.  My other coworker said to her “Sheldon, that wasn’t very nice.  Everyone works hard for their education” and she just sat there staring at my other coworker.  So, I work with a female version of Sheldon Cooper and although he is a fictional character, the character I work with makes me think on a weekly basis “This bitch is the reason I’m going to go to jail.”  Picture it, a random university parking lot, and campus police cars with their lights flashing and two officers walking me to a city police cruiser in handcuffs for assault.  Female Sheldon being brought on a stretcher towards an ambulance with a pencil in her neck, bandaged and an EMT applying pressure to the bleeding, blood all over her clothes and her starting straight up into nothingness with dead shark eyes screaming “Oh my Gawd, I didn’t turn off my computer!!”

Until next time, this is the Huntress915 over and out!


My Blind Date with Keanu Reeves

Ah-ha!! I got your attention didn’t I? Okay well that’s just a fantasy of mine but let’s move onto the real topic of today’s post shall we? Recently I’ve read certain blog posts and have seen some Youtube videos about how horrible online dating is.  So let’s be honest here, online dating is a nightmare but only for certain people, myself included.  Also some fellow bloggers as well, check out my girl Rakkelle’s blog here for her story on online dating.  I think for the most part, I’m in the majority for online dating disasters as there seems to be a lot of us, both men and women that online dating is a horrific experience.  For those of you who’ve read my blog you know about fake US Marshal Rick, Oompa Loompa David and Rude Sergio all of these online dates were absolutely horrible.  Not one of these guys changed my mind about stereotypes of online dating, and those that had the potential to do so, weren’t interested in me.  Now before I start getting emails about how not all men are bad and those a just a few cases….blah, blah, blah.  I have to say that maybe it’s me, maybe I intimidate more than allow these online dates to reveal their true selves.  I’ve been told I intimidate but I’m going to take that as a compliment, but onward we go.

*Disclaimer, this post is purely based on MY online dating experience and not meant to deter anyone from trying online dating or diminish their experience whatsoever*

All of the men I connected with, including rude Sergio saw actual pictures of me, recent pictures of me.  Then Rude Sergio told me he thought I’d be younger when we met in person (just for the record I hope that asshole catches crabs).  But it’s not uncommon for both men and women to lie on their online dating profiles, hell it’s expected because of what societal standards are in this age of beauty, education and financial status.  The thing is, this type of lying will always and I do mean always have a bad outcome.  I mean look at Ooompa Loompa David, his profile said he was 5’9 and the dude only came up to my shoulders and I’m 5’4!   Expectations of what we are looking for in an online date will diminish the value of the person you might be overlooking in favor for some unrealistic image we have in our mind.  One of my friends said to me that women have this Prince Charming (remember him?) image in our minds and men have this porn start image of women in theirs, thinking this is what we want and what we’ll find if we date and look hard enough.

People will lie if they think the person their lying too is hearing what they want to hear.  The truth is online dating is successful for people under the age of forty-five, now this is only my opinion based on my research (the disastrous dates I’ve had).  Online dating is hard, it’s full of unscrupulous people who will lie to you for their own personal reasons.  As a forty-five year old (at the time) I found it extremely difficult to find someone genuine, and when I did they weren’t interested in me.  So what does that say? It says that women with less self-esteem or no confidence will lie, and they will over exaggerate themselves, their accomplishments and their lives in general.  A former coworker of mine was so clingy with men, any man that came into her life she literally drove them away.

She would sit in my office and cry and ask me “what’s wrong with me, is it because I have six kids or what?” and of course being the straight shooter I am, I would tell her that maybe it was intimidating to date someone with so many children (they were already grown) and they may see her as a gold digger or wanting a replacement dad for her kids.  Then she’d cry some more and I’d think to myself what the fuck, go cry at your desk I don’t have time for this shit (yes I really did think that, but hey I had my own problems).  She would tell me about her online dates and how well they went (she’s eight years older than I am) and she made the mistake of telling me she only wanted to date wealthy older men who would take her out to expensive dinners and buy her clothes because she’s never had that.  I told her straight out, if that’s what you’re looking for you’re not going to find it, they will see through your fake persona and drop you like a G-string in a strip club.  She showed me her profile and she had put on there that she had her bachelor’s in accounting.  I told her I knew damned well she hadn’t even gone to college, and asked her “Don’t you think this will come up? Or when they hear you talk they’ll know you didn’t go to college?” Okay again before I get nasty messages about peeps that didn’t go to college and things like that this is purely based on this particular person.

Let me just say she wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, she couldn’t say pneumonia that’s right, she would try to pronounce it like it’s spelled but then it would sound like pa-no-mia.  Once when she was out sick and came back she kept saying she had panomia, to everyone and no one would correct her, then I asked her “What did you have?” and she said she caught panomia, and I asked her what that was and she rolled her eyes (like I was the dumb one) and said “You know, PA-NO-MIA, like a cold only worse, duh?” That pissed me off so I decided to cut her off at the knees in front of our director and I laughed and said out loud “You mean you had pneumonia? If you’re going to tell everyone your sick you’d better learn how to pronounce your illness” and I walked back into my office.  She turned red and then got an IM via my computer telling me I didn’t have to do that and embarrass her in front of people.  That’s when I told her same here, don’t act smart if you aren’t, then a fight ensued and well……I’m getting off topic here.  So my assessment of her is no reflection on those that didn’t attend college, this is only from personal experience with this particular person.

So this person lied on her online dating profile and she got plenty of dates but no follow ups because once you meet someone and talk to them that’s when you realize that you were duped.  It doesn’t feel too good when you’re duped like that because I’ve been the “dupee” more times than I care to remember.  Then there were those dates that I believed had some potential only to find I wasn’t what these men were looking for.  Like Rude Sergio, who wanted a thirty-something knowing full well how old I was, I didn’t lie or misrepresent myself.  I didn’t photo shop my pictures, I didn’t lie about my age or my accomplishments.  And even though we had talked for a while before we met, those conversations led me to believe that he was okay with who I was, that he was genuinely interested in me as a person, not any type of arm candy or trophy girlfriend.

And I can totally pull that off too, because even though now I’m forty-nine (and in spite of a much needed chemical peel, but that’s another story) I am by no means one of the ugly step-sisters.  In my opinion I’m attractive enough to have some of these online dates take a second look (well that’s what I was told by Kyle and Lestat) but what can I say?  Men my age want women ten years younger and because men my age are usually divorced and financially stable, they get actually women ten years younger.   Women my age want men a bit older (well I do) established, well adjusted, secure in their own person and financially stable (I didn’t say dripping in money) but has a job so I don’t have to support him, and I’m sure this goes for men too.  Not all my bad dates have been a result from online mediums.  I was once introduced by a former friend to her brother, an older man who was retired and seemed to be a nice guy when I first met him.

So this “friend” of mine thought it would be a good idea to introduce me to one of her brothers (the one that was divorced, and I’ll explain why later) because he hadn’t dated for a while and neither had I.  After some convincing I agreed to meet her brother Gilbert (I’m using his real name because the chances of him or his sister finding my blog are slim to none).  After our initial meeting I thought to myself, okay this guy is decent, not bad looking he’s nice and seems sane.  So we had two dates and then his older brother invited us out to a restaurant called The Pershing Inn, they were having a Beatles cover band that night so I thought to myself, why not?

The night started out okay, the band was on fire, I was having a good time and then I noticed Gilbert was drinking and I mean a lot, I had picked him up (at his request) and by the end of the night he was plastered.  I drove him home in spite of having a couple of drinks myself, but I wasn’t by any means fall down drunk.  Although I knew I should be driving with even a couple of drinks what choice did I have at this point? Luckily his brother’s house was only six blocks from the bar.  His brother and sister-in-law were already at their house when we got there.  They had stopped by to get some food and invited me to eat with them and even to stay the night if I didn’t want to drive home.  I lived about twenty miles or so from where they lived and although the gesture was a kind one, what transpired after we got to their house made me want to leave and never return.

As we sat and ate our food then Gilbert and his older brother began to argue, and his brother wasn’t even drunk.  But their bickering went on and on and his sister-in-law apologized to me and said they are always like this when Gilbert drinks.  As I helped her clean up, we walked into the kitchen and left the brothers to continue their argument alone.  I asked her why they get like this and she said “Gilbert didn’t tell you that he was in jail did he?” My inside voice was like “No he fucking didn’t tell me he was in jail and neither did his stupid sister!”  She went on to explain that he shouldn’t be drinking because he’s an alcoholic, and that’s the reason he was in jail, he got caught with too many DUI’s and jail and a divorce were the result.  Then I heard shouting from another room “Why would you think a smart, attractive girl like her would want to have an out of work lush who lives with his son for a boyfriend?!? I have to lend you money to take her out!”  Then Gilbert responded with “Because she likes me asshole and I can help her around the house and shit!”  Lend him money? Help around the house?

What the literal FUCK is this guy talking about?  It turns out he was retired (lost his job because of the DUI jail sentence) from Coca-Cola and his pension/retirement wasn’t enough for him to live on by himself hence why he lived with his oldest son (Holy Broke Asshole Batman!).  He lived in Houston and was looking to move back to El Paso to be with his family so I was the “catch” he needed to be able to do just that.  His sister-in-law began to look embarrassed and I looked at her and she said “Tina should have told you about him before you decided to go out with him, I’m so sorry, really I am.  After we met you we knew it was too good to be true, that once you would see the real him you’d…….”  I didn’t let her finish and I told her I had to leave.  She said she understood and during his argument with his brother, I got the keys to my car and got the hell outta Dodge as fast as my Ford Fusion could get me.  But the damage had been done, he had my phone number, and knew where I lived and for three weeks after that he did nothing but bother the shit out of me.  Calling, coming by my house he even showed up to my office! This was because the last time he went by my house all three of my over five-foot nine inch tall boys were there and all three told him to leave in a not so nice way (boy am I glad I gave birth to three huge body guards).  This was even after I didn’t want to see or talk to him.

But did he get the hint? No he fucking didn’t so what did I do? I called in a favor from one of my friends who is Texas State Trooper and what was said or done I’ll never know all I got was a “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it” from my friend Joe.  After that all I know is that Gilbert the Lush didn’t bother me anymore.  But I still get drunk voicemails from him from time to time even though I blocked him, his daughters and his stupid sister’s phone numbers.  He still leaves me messages, like he’ll think I might change my mind about him, I don’t fucking think so!

So it’s not just online dating that can have disastrous outcomes, real life meeting people the “normal” way can too.  Needless to say I no longer talk to his sister because she should have been honest.  So honesty is definitely important whether your dating the “old fashion way” or online.  So what’s my conclusion? That online dating for me has been more than disappointing because of false advertising and the devious people I’ve met.  I’ve given up dating through this particular medium and my chances of meeting anyone the “old fashion” way are diminishing because of online dating, no one meets organically anymore.  I’m too old to bar hop or go out clubbing, besides what are the types of people one can meet at a bar or club?  So if it happens it happens, and if it doesn’t well then, ce la vie.  Even though I don’t have a “significant other” at the moment, I’m happy and I’m not just saying that to sound, look or pretend that I am, I truly am.  I found the following on one of my friends desk (another single mom) and I read it and thought, wow, that is the absolute truth.  Even though I was already married in high school, the rest resonates with me so I decided to share.

Relashionship Status of Single Women

But let me just add this, on Friday I got asked out by an “older” medical student (he’s 37, usually med students are in their early to mid-twenties.  He was in the Navy before he decided to go to Med School) and although I was flattered, he just began his residency and the chances of a healthy relationship coming out of this are not good, residency is hard for any new medical student but it’s harder on a couple when one of them is a resident.  Also, it proves I still got it, chemical peel or not! *flips hair and fist pumps air like John Bender at the end of the Breakfast Club*


I’m looking for something long term, I am no longer dating for fun.  Did I mention he’s a Psychiatry resident? No? Huh, I wonder if the universe is trying to tell me something……Keanu Reeves where are you?!

This is the Huntress915, over and out.


Don’t Judge Me Until You’ve Walked Ten Thousand Steps In My Stilettos

A while back I had yet another Bridget Jones moment and unfortunately it was in front of a large group of students who were loitering about in the hallway in front of my office.  I had to navigate through this sea of students to get to the ladies room, when I left I had to do the same.  But this time I was walking down the hallway towards my office with my navy blue Ralph Lauren dress tucked into my pantyhose.  Yes, that’s right I walked a good ten feet in this state until I walked past the receptionist and she saw me and thankfully she yell at me saying “Oh God!! Stop!!! You have to fix your dress!!!!”

I quickly turned around and she ushered me into the back of her desk area, which was conveniently out of sight of what seemed like the Spartan 300 group of students all standing there.  And this wasn’t even the most humiliating part of all this (imagine that?).  As I walked back towards my office, I had to pass three girls all primped and primed in business suits and I overheard one say to the others “Who wears pantyhose nowadays anyway?”

I knew that what I did next was wrong, but I felt the need to do it because let’s face it, we have all be in our twenties thinking to ourselves we’re never going to get old.  So I thought I’d “educate” this young, fresh millennial as to why women like me still wear pantyhose.  I turned around and casually said “Well dear” I said sternly “I still wear pantyhose like many other women do because we can’t pull off going without.  I don’t have the great knockout legs I had in my twenties like you all have, and you won’t either when you get to be my age.  Which by the way isn’t even past fifty yet, so while you are running around wearing your short skirts and tanning your legs remember, as you get older things sag and wrinkle, then veins will appear in places you never thought they would.  And one day you will begin to wear hose to hide the imperfections of nature’s cruel joke called aging.  I also hope that when your forty-nine years old you will run into a smug little girl who makes an insensitive comment in front of you and you will remember what I just told you. I am your future ladies live and learn!”

I turned and walked back into my office and the receptionist held out her hand in a hi-five gesture as I walked by, I slapped her hand and went back to work.  I hate that even now, at forty-nine I feel like I get bullied for things that seem normal to me, like something as simple as wearing pantyhose.  I have always thought of myself as fashion conscience, and believed that I have gotten better as I’ve gotten older.  Like a fine wine, wiser and now have the money to buy the types of clothes I like to wear.  I am old school in certain things and as Dolly Parton said in the film Steel Magnolias, “I haven’t left the house without Lycra on these thighs since I was fourteen” because even when I was young, hose to me were classy and sophisticated.  It’s not for everyone I have to admit.  But I don’t think I need to explain why I chose to wear them.

Out of my embarrassment came a certain sense of self, and even though I might have been wrong to say what I said to that twenty-something year old, inexperienced, self-serving, entitled student, I had to say it because I refuse to feel ashamed of who I am, how I look or what I do to anyone. PERIOD.


Part 26…………Your so Vain You Probably Think This Blog Is About You, The End of Lestat.

“You’ve been wearing that crown and tearing me down, It’s been a while since you’ve treated me right, You strung me along for far too long ’cause I never gave up the fight, until now” – The Band Perry, Done.

I had no tears to shed or emotions to feel, I was narcotized by everything that happened.  I felt so stupid for everything I allowed this asshole of a man to do to me over the course of twenty motherfucking years.  I also felt used, betrayed and despite of all of these emotions I still felt nothing.  Like a blank piece of paper with nothing to remotely explain why I was in such a state.  Terri began to ask me how I felt and I told her all of it, she stared at me and said “Let it go, if you want to cry, cry don’t keep it in.”  I looked up at her and said “I can’t, there’s nothing there to let go of.  I think I pretty much did that the day of the rental truck incident and the day at the Denny’s parking lot, I feel nothing.”

She sighed (again don’t know if it’s out of habit or what?) and said “Have you accepted that love is no longer a factor here.  But as an addict there will be side effects once you do begin to feel.” “Side effects, what side effects?” I said as I stared at her with confusion, I mean I’m not a chemical dependent like a drug addict.  She began to explain saying that my side effects would be emotional.  She sat back in her pink chair and said “Addicts go through withdrawals, and you will too eventually.  Not chemically like a heroin addict but emotionally.  You will start to miss the bad relationship, you will miss his presence and you will miss those crumbs of time you said he gave you.  It’s inevitable, you will start to go through this and you need to be prepared.”  I hadn’t thought about relationship withdrawals and what the fuck are those like?  Since I’ve never used drugs all I can explain how I might feel is I’ll have the equivalent to a hangover, or trying to quit eating chocolate croissants.  Yes that’s it, a relationship hangover, and I thought I’d be prepared for that.

The first month or so of my last and final separation from Lestat was pretty easy, it went by smoothly and I hardly thought of him at all which made me proud of myself.  Then it hit, the stupid relationship addict withdrawals, the cold shakes, the sweats (emotionally) the needing a fix.  And by fix I mean driving to work and scanning oncoming traffic for a sign, any sign of his truck.  Going to the mall and scanning the crowd for his face.  Looking through his kids social media and wanting to see any recent pictures of him.  But I knew that, “that” particular fix would end in emotional cutting.  Seeing pictures of him with his idiot wife Fiona and his horse faced Stepford children would only send me spiraling down into an all-day pajama, messy hair bun wearing, chocolate croissant eating, laying on the couch, mushy chick flick watching, journal writing depression.  I mean there are only so many times your eldest son can say “in your robe all day again ma?” before you throw a Tupperware full of cold moldy cheese tortellini at him and then say “Sorry I thought I was aiming for the trash can.”

The fact that I was aware of this, I knew I had to do something to prevent it from happening.  Although I’d slip back into this kind of behavior every so often without even realizing it.  Driving to and from work for instance, I mean I could take a different route that didn’t take me past one of his businesses.  But it would take me almost fifteen minutes longer to get to work.  Yeah that’s the excuse I used for a long time.  I told Terri what was happening and she said that I had to fill my time with positive things to do, workout, clean, a book club, go out with friends, clean my back yard and plant that herb garden I’d been talking about.  Anything that would fill my time, the time I use to spend with Lestat and catering to his every need.  I told her I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to do it, I felt as if this is the one thing I was going to fail at, I mean other than failing at the Titanic of all relationships.  Holding onto that big wooden door of dysfunction like Kate Winslet cold, wet and emotionally frozen, watching Leo DeCaprio sink into the abyss of the icy, wet darkness (okay I know, you get the point).


So what did my brilliant therapist do?  She gave me charm for my Pandora bracelet in the shape of small silver wings.  She said that every time I accomplish another month of relationship sobriety I would get another charm.  I mean am I being bribed, or am I actually accomplishing this sobriety thing? It took a while for me to actually, actively stop doing a lot of those annoying things like looking for him in traffic, emotional cutting myself by looking at his kids social media, passing by his favorite bar only to see his Corvette parked outside knowing full well he was only there to pick up whatever barfly he could to get laid because I knew damned well he wasn’t getting laid at home.  I had to keep remembering I wasn’t in love with him, I was an addict and it was hard but eventually I stopped, then all I was left with was the vacuum of solace.  The deafening silent, solitary life I was forced to live due to a very bad man and his selfish, emotionally draining tendencies.

It’s been almost seven months into my Emotional Vampire sobriety and sometimes I still struggle with blank spaces of time, with chocolate croissant eating, chick flick watching days but not nearly as often.  Now I have to find a way to keep busy so that the addict in me won’t fall off the relationship rehab wagon, because I know now all I miss is the misery.  I know I’m not in love with him anymore because I don’t worry about him, his health, his well being, his businesses I don’t care.  This was something I realized when Terri asked me if I remembered the last time I talked about his illnesses.  I told her I didn’t, and then without thinking I said “And I don’t fucking care, that’s what his wife is for” and she smiled at me and said “Now you are over him, when you don’t care about him in any aspect.  This is progress.”

I was so use to misery I have no idea what a good healthy relationship is and that alone is a struggle.  I wonder if I ever find myself in another relationship, will I, can I handle that? But right now I’m not looking I need time to heal.  Terri said I needed to find my bliss and gave me a copy of Joseph Campbell’s book Pathways to Bliss.  I’ve read it more than once in order to keep my focus, finding that bliss that only comes with loving yourself.  Accepting who you are and all the awesome abilities one has, like realizing that there was nothing and I do mean nothing Lestat could give me that I couldn’t get for myself.

Now THAT is power, finding out you have the capacity to do and get what you want without having to rely on anyone else even if that someone else was the person you thought you wanted to spend the rest of your life with.  It’s coming to terms with all that shit, and that’s hard, it takes time and ultimately acceptance of the result.  As well as accepting that my actions had a lot to do with how Lestat behaved and treated me.  It also made me see Lestat not as a thirty-six year old, tall dark and handsome, 6’1 cowboy.  I now saw a middle aged fifty-five year old man, very overweight, thinning hair, double chin and same old plaid shirt, Wrangler, roper wearing man, standing in the Denny’s parking lot grasping for his youth and whatever power he thought he still had over me.  Only to realize that this woman who stood in front of him was no longer enamored by his vampire like magic.

This is the strength that I never thought I’d find because I was so in love with this man, the strength of being Myiagied, being ignored, dismissed and taken for granted year after excruciating, heartbreaking year.  He and he alone managed to kill the love I once felt.  He let the one woman who would have truly loved him unconditionally slip through his greedy, cheating, lying hands.  But I can honestly say, he’s too stupid to realize this but that’s okay with me, because I know what I brought to the table.  This woman who at one time loved him so deeply I would have died for this selfish bastard.

I still haven’t found Prince Charming or his horse Carlos, he may still exist if only in the myths we keep hidden away in the recesses of our minds.  What I do have is hope, that someday I might meet a nice guy (even at my age) and that we might have a fighting chance after my experience with Lestat.  Knowing what to do and not to do and maybe not judge him (whoever his is) too harshly based on the experiences of my past.  Lestat might still try to contact me, because he’s a narcissist and I truly believe he thinks I will love him until I die, boy would he be surprised.  But now he’s an afterthought in my life now, not where he wants to be.  The motherfucker still has his wife, his kids, his business and all his assists he didn’t want to lose half of in an imagined divorce that played out in his head, so he can stay right where he’s at.  I also realized that karma has been in his life all along.  He has to stay in a marriage to woman he doesn’t love (so he says) but only “cares” for.  He has to endure waking up next to someone with questionable intelligence and that won’t have sex with him.  He has to stay married to someone who will never show any interest in what he does, his businesses or him in general.  He will forever have to endure the boring daily routine of “pretending” he’s a happy husband and father, and that is THE ultimate karma in my eyes.  All of that is payback for twenty years of what he put me through.

Everything I’ve come to learn about an emotional vampire, co-dependent behavior and dysfunctional relationships is all because I was on the brink of either homicide or destruction of property.  I have many friends who saw me through the worst parts of being with Lestat, and I appreciate them greatly.  But most of all, I couldn’t have gotten this far along without Terri and her amazing ability to strip away the myopic, rose colored glasses I had worn for twenty years of my life.  She allowed me to figure out for myself that Lestat wasn’t who I believed him to be.  She didn’t candy coat anything and her brutal honesty was at times hard to take, but she said she couldn’t help me if I didn’t wanted to be helped.  That’s when I realized that I needed help in order to break away from Lestat and his emotional manipulation.

She helped me find the inner strength she said I had, but because I allowed Lestat to push it back in order to keep control of my presence in his life.  Terri is a godsend, I owe her so much, and yet she says “It’s my job to help those who think there is no help” and I appreciate her helping me.  The end of Lestat doesn’t mean the end of Terri, I still have a long way to go but now I can concentrate on other issues in my life now that “the” big issue is gone.

What do I have after twenty years?  In the past I would have said nothing, but that simply isn’t true.  My brilliant therapist put it to me this way, she said “You were able to overcome becoming a teenaged statistic, you became a mother at sixteen, married a man you weren’t even sure you loved.  You married him believing you were doing the right thing for your son.  You were able to grow up while raising a son, then having two more in the muck and mire that was a very one sided marriage.  You knew you had to leave that marriage no matter how much it was going to hurt your boys, and with that you walked out into the unknown. You found yourself divorced at 28, then met a man you honestly believed loved you and he probably does.  But you found yourself in yet another relationship where you gave your entire body and soul, getting very little in return. And in the midst of all of this personal and physical chaos, you managed to educate yourself, you got your Bachelor’s and then your Masters, and finally you found your dream job.

Yes, you filed for bankruptcy to save yourself and what little you had in order for you to build you financial life.  You were Myagied by the man you loved, who taught you in the harshest of ways to take care of yourself.  Now you have three adult children who are all doing well, because you raised them.  You are now in a job you have wanted for a long time, you are financially stable for the first time in your life, all of this and without a man!  You have accomplished so much in the thirty-two and half years you were with these two selfish and immature men in your life.  And yet you are still standing, you didn’t let anything knock you down because you knew you had to keep going for your boys, for yourself and your sanity.  You’re getting ready to buy your own house, you have everything you ever wanted from Lestat, and without realizing you got it all on your very own.”

That’s Terri for you, what an absolute jewel I have in her.  Before I began therapy with her, if anyone had asked me what I had after twenty years with Lestat, I would have said I have nothing. But, she made me see that what I have after all these years is a new found sense of self, independence and self-assurance, I don’t depend on anyone for financial stability, security or emotional reassurance.  This Cinderella has realized that waiting on Prince Charming and his horse Carlos is time best spent putting on that shiny armor, picking up that sword to cut away all the ties that remain of Lestat. I will ride away on my own horse into the unknown that is my future, and I’m going to do it wearing stilettos because after all, I am FABULOUS!

The End


Part 25…………………Feeding the Alligators and Lestat’s Last Stand

“Screaming deceiving and bleeding for you, and you still won’t hear me.  Don’t want your hand this time I’ll save myself, maybe I’ll wake up for once”-Evanescence

It’s not uncommon for someone in therapy to question their therapist’s manner of helping you, it’s actually part of the process.  After everything I had gone through with Lestat I began to tell Terri that I was beginning to tire of not only talking about him but writing about him as well.  I still had this overwhelming urge to keep these stupid journals about him and I had sworn to burn them once I bought my house.  She told me that it was actually a good idea that I have a plan for what I’m going to do with them and not keep them forever.  She also began to breakdown every aspect of my time with Lestat and make me see what he’d done to me all these years.  During this time I was at the end of my ever fraying rope with Lestat and our toxic, twisted, dysfunctional, emotionally draining relationship.

It was August of 2018 he had gone to San Antonio five times since he said he’d bought a house “for his kids” which was about four month prior.  Not only was he buying a house, he was having it built to his specifications, because he’s a fucking control freak and obsessive compulsive asshole.  His kids are grown ass adults but in spite of his son owning his own business and his daughter being a sophomore at UTSA, and he still supported them financially (both of them).  Something that the motherfucker couldn’t do for me when I needed a little help.  And I don’t mean support in the sense that I sat around the house watching Netflix all day doing nothing.  I mean helping me when my power got cut off in the middle of summer.  Or paying my rent for a few months while I caught up on my bills.  Or hell, letting me stay in one of his rental properties for a year while I saved money to become financially stable.  Yes, he has rental properties but never offered me any kind of “real” help.  I say real because as Terri pointed out, his type of help came few and far between and it was for his benefit and not mine.  When I explained to her how he bought me appliances for my apartment and how he fixed up that apartment she explained what he did and why he did it.

She said he could have bought me those appliances himself after all he’s a landlord and he’s buying appliances for his properties all the time.  The reason he didn’t was because he didn’t want any kind of trail, monetary or otherwise to connect him to me so he asked me to go and get an account with Lowes.  He fixed up the apartment to make himself comfortable while he visited me every Saturday for two years.  Terri mentioned that if he really wanted to help me he wouldn’t have made it so hard for me, he would have just done it, period.  She asked me to think about all the times I spend trying to justify his bad behavior, making excuses for him and why he didn’t get a divorce, thinking he would change.  She also told me that even though after every breakup, I secretly wanted him to text or call and when he did it was just co-dependent behavior on my end.  She said that him communicating with me made me feel wanted, after everything he’d put me through, this was the misery I was addicted to.

She explained that after every time we’d separate he would actuall try and make his marriage work, it didn’t matter if he loved his stupid wife or not.  Terri said that he would leave me with full intentions of working on his relationship with Fiona.  Only to realize that he was the only one that was trying because Fiona didn’t think she had to anymore, he “trained” her so she didn’t have to try.  After each and every try, which lasted either a couple of days or a week at the most, he’d see that it was futile in nature and then he’d call or text me because he indeed realized (yet again) the person he was married to was like staring into that airline toilet seat, round, hollow, uninteresting and full of shit.  She explained that is the reason he was always the one to initiate communication with me, because I was the most interesting person he knew and without me in his life he had nothing but money in the bank and Fiona Shrek at home with the IQ of a river rock.  This took a while to sink in as I thought he’d always call because he actually loved me.  She said he probably does love me, but as she explained before he wasn’t sure he wanted to find out if I’d stick around or leave knowing I might get bored of him, you know, like I am now.

As I thought back on all those things I remembered, his biggest fear was for me or anyone actually, was to think of him as a bad guy.  He would always say “I know I’m a good guy, I work hard and make an honest living” but little did he realize that he was the worst of the worst.  His ideas of what type of person he is, was distorted and warped, just like a narcissistic emotional vampire thinks of himself.  For example, this “good guy” would ask me get down to pay/pump gas in my car (when we were using my car to avoid using his truck so he wouldn’t get recognized) while he stayed in the car waiting for me.  He said that would make him feel like a complete dick because he was worried about what people at the other gas pumps would think.  Well guess what?  He was/is a complete dick! It was all about appearances, that’s how an emotional vampire thinks.  He would continually say that he knew his worth that he never did anything dishonest but I knew him way better than he realized.  I began to see the small and dishonest things he’d do and that carefully sculptured façade began to crack.  One Saturday morning while we were sitting outside underneath my back porch taking in the summer sun and playing chess, we got to talking about everything we’d been through together.

It was a bad habit we had when one or both of us felt tension in our not-so-perfect relationship.  Let me explain how fragile his ego really is, we got into the habit of playing chess for fun and it soon turned into a knock-down, drag-out type of competition.  We both got good at chess (well as good as one can get playing with the same person over and over) and he would win the majority of the time.  But when I would beat him, he’d give up and he wouldn’t want to keep playing.  Terri explained that it was his ego taking a beating and he didn’t want to go through that more times than he had to.  So we began to remember when we’d first met and how we’d gotten to that point in our lives etc.  Then I mentioned (casually, I really didn’t think about it) that he’d treated me bad on more than a couple of occasions in spite of his “good guy” persona.  The look on his face changed and I mean drastically, he actually looked surprised, shocked and in utter disbelief that those words had come out of my mouth.

He stopped dead in his tracks and just sat there, no words, silent as if engrossed by the very idea that he could have possibly treated me bad, imagine that?  I could tell he was having a hard time believing it because according to him he’s never been anything but generous and loving towards me.  Boy was this a wakeup call and the emotional vampire did not like it one bit and by this point in my therapy with Terri, I didn’t care what he thought or believed.  The silence was unbelievably awkward.  Finally he went back to our chess game but after that day, I could tell he was still thinking about what I had said.

Three days later came the culmination of all the emotional turmoil and thunderous explosion that was my now jaded and angry heart.  He had asked if I could take a couple of days of vacation leave so we could spend those days together.  I stupidly said yes and then he said we could go to a hotel like we use to when we first met and spend those days alone with no interruptions or distractions (which I’m assuming he meant my son who lived with me).  So, as usual I made the hotel reservations and planned out our three days there.  Then the day before we were scheduled to go to the hotel he said he wouldn’t be able to go the first day because of some stupid awards ceremony he had to attend with Fiona that idiot denim skirt wearing mental midget.  I got angry and yelled at him asking why he’d wanted me to ask for vacation days if he was going to skip out on me the very first day!

He apologized and said his stupid wife told him at the very last minute, and I thought okay no problem I’ll spend that day at the hotel enjoying the pool and having a bottle of wine.  So the next day he calls me at 6am (waking me up of course) to ask what I wanted for breakfast.  I told him that I would get ready so we could go OUT for breakfast and he told me he couldn’t because he didn’t want to be seen by anyone that knows his wife.  That was it, I blew up I no longer had the patience to comply with his stupid requests and I told him that if he wasn’t going to be able to take me to breakfast then I would go alone and hung up on him.  I got ready and I had forgotten I had already told him which hotel I was at and the room number.  As I finished dressing there was a knock on my door and all I flinched, feel regret at giving him the hotel info.

He kept knocking and when I did open the door as I was on my way out, as I walked passed him he grabbed my arm and said “Where are you going?”  I responded “Breakfast” and kept walking to my car.  He stood there not knowing what to do, but I sure as hell knew that this was going to be the very last time he or any man would do this to me.  I drove away not really knowing what was going through his mind.  As I drove into the Denny’s parking lot I found out, it seems emotional vampires don’t like it when you ignore them or spoil their plans.  I had walked into the Denny’s and had been seated when I saw him walk in after me.  He sat down at the booth and I asked him “What do you want Lestat? Why don’t you go home and waste your wife’s time” again he looked surprised.

The waitress had come to take my order and he had asked for coffee, I sighed loudly and looked at him and then he asked me “What’s wrong with you? Why are you acting like this?” I found this funny because I knew there was ABSOLUTELY NOTHING wrong with me.  Well, except for being with him that is.  I just proceeded to put creamer in my coffee and look up at him while I took my very first sip.  He kept asking me over and over and I kept ignoring him and finally I said “Well it seems that you didn’t recognize anyone that might know your wife and you didn’t melt into the booth.  It’s occurred to me that you are a fucking coward!”  He looked up and it was almost the same look that he’d given me when I told him he’d treated me bad that day playing chess.  His eyes were intently focused on mine and I kept on saying “So, since we both know you’re a fucking cheating, lying asshole of a coward what do you have to say to that Mr. Good, Hardworking Guy?”

He knew exactly why I had said that and he looked around the restaurant as if to make sure there was really no one he knew then responded with “All I’ve ever done is love you! I’m tired of you telling me I haven’t helped you!” I laughed out loud and said “Then I think you and I have two vastly different ideas of what love and help are” and he looked down at his coffee and said “Let’s just go back to the hotel and we’ll talk there.”  I said that I wasn’t going to let him into the hotel room and he was just going to have to go home to his idiot wife and spend what remained of my two vacation days at home, with his “soul mate.”  I got up and paid for my breakfast and walked out, he followed and in the parking lot of the Denny’s of Montana and Airway Blvd the emotional explosion I knew was bound to happen, happened.

As he followed me to my car and he said “You have no idea what I’ve been through to be with you!” I turned around and before my brain could react, my body did, closing my fist into a ball of hormonal rage and I punched him so hard I could hear my hand striking his face, it wasn’t a slap it was a fucking punch.  The giant opal and sterling silver ring I was wearing scratched him, his cheek, nose and the top of his lip.

Claudia Lestat

He looked back at me with that ‘I can’t believe you just did that’ look and I finally found my voice, I had finally allowed my brain to do the talking instead of my heart and yelled at him “I have NO fucking idea what YOU’VE been through?!?!  You selfish, self-centered BASTARD! How dare you stand there and lecture me on what YOU’VE been through!!  You have no idea what it’s like to sacrifice your entire life for twenty fucking years for a selfish man!  Then for him to tell you that he isn’t going to be able to be with you because he’s too materialistic to get a fucking divorce!! You are a goddamned COWARD, you’re a lying, cheating piece of shit and I am no longer going to allow you to play me anymore!

Listen here cupcake, if you EVER and I do mean EVER contact me again I will make sure that your wife knows about us.  I will make sure that she knows every sordid detail of your twenty year relationship with your girlfriend AND I will tell her that you’ve fucked around with three of her friends and several of her coworkers.  I know where you live, your home number, I know her email address, her cell phone number and where she works and know her office number as well!  So forget EVERYTHING you’ve ever known about me, or what I would do for you because all of that shit is gone motherfucker.  You killed my love, my devotion, my pride and my self-respect so I have nothing and I do mean NOTHING to lose by letting your wife know about you and me!! So don’t you fucking underestimate what I will do if you ever try to contact me again!!!!  I don’t love you anymore, I don’t give a flying fuck what happens to you, you ugly stupid kids or your insipid brain dead wife! I can and will ruin your life so bad it will make losing half your assets in a divorce seem like a goddamned day at Disneyland!!!

He stood there, red in the face where I had punched him as a couple of spectators watched from the front door of the Denny’s.  I was filled with rage, and he genuinely looked hurt both emotionally and physically and I knew he knew I was serious about everything I had said.  At this point in my life I would and could make him suffer for everything he’d put me through and he definitely knew I had nothing to lose.  I unlocked my car and drove back to the hotel and that’s when I broke down, the emotional whirlwind that occurred in the parking lot of the Denny’s had finally caught up with me.  As the rage subsided all I did was cry, I cried more that day than I had in my entire lifetime.  I didn’t leave the hotel room for the two remaining days, all I did was sleep and get up for water and go right back to sleep.

I knew cutting ties with him was going to have to happen in an emotionally violent way, which was the only way he was going to understand I was serious and that this was the end.  I also knew that calling him a coward was going to help in cutting those ties and having them stay that way, no chance of him trying to come back, text me or call me at work.  That was the ultimate one-two punch, as an emotional vampire with an over inflated ego and very proud of who he “believed” he was, the unmasking and forcing him to look into the mirror was going to hit him hard.  I think the first time I saw his vulnerability that day playing chess, telling him he’d treated me bad and then verbalizing to him his cowardice and emotional manipulation was the final blow and the emotional vampire was finally exposed to the sun and began to burn away, like ash.

I also knew that to be able to finally be free of him, I mean really free I was going to have to resort to telling him I would expose his infidelity to his wife as well as letting him know I had proof of the twenty years we spent together.  When I loved him, it never crossed my mind to ever hurt him or destroy the life he had at home, but I now longer loved him and thanks to Terri I was able to accept that.  I’m not going to say that it didn’t hurt, but he hurt me more by stringing me along for twenty years just to feed his emotional sucking, self-serving ego.

That day was a long time in the making and although I didn’t really intend to do it that day or that particular way, there was a sense of relief.  I felt the emotional baggage lift and there was no more black cloud of insecurity or indecision looming over me.  Instead what was left was the void that was filled by Lestat and his scheduled time with me.  There was emptiness now where he used to be, but to be honest there was nothing there before, not really.  Even though I knew I was over him, that I was no longer in love with Lestat there was that space with nothing in it.  A vast gaping vacuum of time and I had nothing to fill it with but one day Terri suggested I start to write and I told her I was exhausted about writing about Lestat and didn’t want to start another journal.  She said “Not a journal, how about you start a blog?” I looked at her with that look you give someone when you think their bat-shit crazy.  She said that starting a blog would help with that void of time and also provide an additional source of therapy.  I asked her “Where the fuck would I even begin to blog about being the mistress of a married man?”  She answered “Start at the beginning and the rest will come as you keep writing.”

It’s going on six months since that day in the Denny’s parking lot and I had written what I believed to be a novel about a mistress and her married boyfriend and everything that had happened in their twenty year relationship.  When I decided to start my blog I broke down what I had written in my journals and the so-called “novel” about Lestat and myself.  I told Terri I felt a bit guilty writing about him and she told me to stop trying to redeem him in any way and since he was no longer a factor in my life I could call him by another name.  So I decided on Lestat because that’s who he reminds me of, Lestat de Lioncourt from an Interview with a Vampire.  That narcissistic, self-serving, vain asshole who did nothing but make Louis’ life a living hell for what remained of his mortal life and the rest of his eternal one. So Claudia takes a stand, slits his throat and then Louis and Claudia feed him to the alligators in the swamp, believing this was a way of ridding themselves of Lestat.  Doing what I did, in a sense was metaphorically feeding him to the alligators, except in public, at the Denny’s.

She finally convinced me to start my blog by saying (and I quote) “Lestat won’t realize anytime soon what he’s done to you because that’s who he is, he is only ever going to care about himself while he’s young enough where he thinks he can go out and find another mistress.  You on the other hand can villainize him anonymously through your blog and only those close to you will know who he really is, and believe me that’s enough for people to make a connection.  But it’s not really villanizing someone when everything they’ve done is true.  Lestat’s wife lives blissfully unaware of what he’s done and how that will impact their marriage in the long run.  When he’s old and his memory is fading the only sure thing he’ll remember is you and that day in the parking lot because then and only then will he finally realize you were the one that got away, that you were the spectacular woman he let slip through his hands. When he’s bored to death of talking and dealing with his wife, which will happen sooner than you think, he will remember everything you ever did for him and for his sake.  But like with all emotional vampires they will only realize when it’s too late and THAT is what will finally kill them.”

Terri helped me learn a very important lesson, relationship addicts are just as susceptible to falling off the wagon as drug addicts.  But I also realized that we will never really get rid of our demons (chemical or human) we simply need to learn to live above them.  That is the key to survival.  Stay tuned for Part 26……


Part 24…………The Emotional Vampire’s Oedipus Syndrome & His Airline Toilet Seat Personality Spouse.

“Miss the phone calls, when it’s your fault, I miss the late nights, don’t miss you at all, I like the kick in the face, and the things you do to me, I love the way that it hurts, I don’t miss you, I miss the misery” – Halestorm, I Miss The Misery.

A few days after I had demolished his gate I had another session with Terri.  I spent almost half an hour explaining what had happened.  When I was done she sighed (I can never tell if she’s sighing out of habit or in a judg-ey type way) and sat up straight on her chair.  She picked up her pad and pen and looked up at me and began to speak.  “Well, first of all I knew that you had anger towards him because of the culmination of bad emotions that your relationship is causing you.  Also because you’re finally trying to accept that you don’t love him anymore and are addicted to the misery he causes you.” I sat there listening to her, nodding my head going through all the things I did that day and………….what, wait did she just say I was addicted to the MISERY he causes me?!?!

Yes, yes she fucking did! I stopped her and said “Okay Dr. Terri wait a minute……” then she quickly told me to listen to her before I began to question what she said.  She continued “that’s right you heard me, you’re addicted to the misery and pain he’s caused you.  You no longer love him, if you did you wouldn’t have run down his fence with your truck.  So your beginning the hate phase which is a good thing because your subconscious is telling you to move on.  It’s telling you that this thing, this whatever you have with Lestat is finally coming to an end, so accept it.”  The old, in love with Lestat you would have never, ever caused him any personal or financial pain whatsoever.  You got mad over what, a concert ticket? No you got mad over the fact that he actively chose to take his wife to a concert that YOU wanted to see with him.  You realized that he’s never going to choose you over anything in his life, you’re not that important to him.” OMG this bitch was pissing me off! How dare she say something so callus so mean and…….so true.  It didn’t matter how much that asshole motherfucker said he loved me, he didn’t, he loved himself more and it was there the entire twenty years we were together.  I just didn’t see it because I was deeply in love with this emotional vampire.

She stayed quiet almost as if she was letting me absorb the words, the wisdom, the truth and I sat there replaying the entire twenty years of everything I had ever done for him, selflessly, completely in love, doing things I shouldn’t have.  Remembering all the sacrifices I’d made for his sake and the biggest one? Waiting, waiting in vain for a selfish man who would never, ever think I was important enough or loved enough (or at all) to believe I was valuable in any way to tell me he’d leave me alone so I could get on with my life, find somebody new and stop wasting my time.  I cried for what seemed like forever, and Terri let me, not once trying to get me to stop or asking me how I felt or if I was okay.

She could see I wasn’t okay but yet she knew that this was a breakthrough and now my, or should I saw our work began.  Even though I was still trying to process that, one) I wasn’t really in love with this emotional vampire and two) I needed to figure out how to leave him, three) how was I going to get on with my life without the misery.  When I first began my therapy she asked me if I had any kind of outlet for all the emotional turmoil I was going through because of Lestat.  I had told her that I write, that I had a box and a half of journals all written in the span of almost twenty years and all about him.  She once asked me to bring in one of the very first ones I had written and one of the most recent.  I asked her why, she said she wanted to compare my feelings and writing style from the beginning to present.  I thought this was a weird request but I said okay why not?

So I did, she never told me about her thoughts on the two journals I had brought her to review, she just gave them back to me after a week and that was it.  But this last time she asked me to bring in the most recent journal I had, and again I did.  She’s the one that diagnosed me with mild hypographia and I suppose it explains why I feel the constant need to write.  During this visit with her she asked me “Do you remember when I asked you to bring in a couple of your journals when you started coming to see me, then again recently?”  I nodded yes and she continued “Well the reason I did was because I wanted to examine your emotional state from how you were writing in your journals.”  I just kept listening to her but didn’t think much of it and she went back to her desk and picked up a file and came back to sit down in front of me.  She put on her glasses and began to explain to me that her evaluation of my writings when I first began to see Lestat had vastly changed to present day.

I nodded again and said “okay, and?” Then she closed the file and looked at me and began to explain that I had fallen out of love with him a long time ago and that I only held onto him this long because it was like a stale marriage.  She said couples seldom confront the issues going on with their marriage when they don’t want to face the truth about the problems between them.  In my case she explained that I had been with Lestat longer than I was with my ex-husband and that there was no doubt that I love him deeply when we first met.  But she also hit me with a personal fact that I never even thought of.  She said that I had married my ex-husband as a child, a sixteen year old girl who became a wife to an immature eighteen year old.  And over the course of our fourteen and a half year marriage we grew up in different directions and matured differently.  But when I met Lestat at the age of twenty-nine I had fallen in love for the very first time as an adult woman.

She said that was the reason I had the idea in my head that he was the love of my life was because at the time he was, but he changed how I felt about him over the course of twenty years.  She mentioned that my journals reflected how my mind went from writing about how much I loved him and that I would do anything to make him happy, that I would have waited for him forever.  She said one of the oldest journals I wrote was about but how much I loved him, how I had met the greatest love of my life.  Then she mentioned that the latest one was all about how I was tired of him, his indecision and how all I wanted to do was find a way to get on with my life without him in it.  She stayed silent as if almost letting me take in what she had just explained to me, which let’s face it felt like I was hit with a pretty big emotional baseball bat.

I cleared my throat and asked her to explain why she thinks I’m addicted to the misery he’s caused me, saying that it was almost bordering on emotional abuse.  I sat there looking at her, then her cell phone rang and she excused herself to go out an answer the call.  It was as if I was paralyzed, I couldn’t move and tried really hard to think what she mean “almost” bordering on emotional abuse.  The floodgates opened and all the raw untouched emotions came back to hit me square in the face.  Remembering all the horrible things he’d put me through, as if I needed anymore negativity to remember, and sat motionless, memories reeling through my brain like old black and white stock footage, skipping, scratched and faded.  The ill-fated Ruidoso trip where he called me a whore, the Eagle’s concert, him standing me up all the time, being left on I-10 with a flat tire, walking in heels to Walmart, being arrested and calling him for help, sleeping outside in August on an inflatable mattress because there was no power in my house, watching him pass me by on the highway while my car wouldn’t start and him not answering his phone, constantly telling me he never promised me anything, making me eat lunch in my car, ignoring me at the movie theater.

I felt tears start to well up, and somehow Sharleen (my brain) said “NO! You will not cry over him anymore!” (by this point I was really, really tired of crying over this asshole) my brain was right, I was done, he wasn’t worth crying over.  Terri walked back in and apologized for leaving then turned and asked me if I was okay.  I said no that I wasn’t okay and that I felt like I’ve wasted twenty long, agonizing years on a stupid, selfish man who believed I wasn’t valuable enough to walk away from me or let me leave without him trying constantly to change my mind and weasel his way back into my life.  She said that I needed to find that out on my own because her telling me wasn’t going to help, I had to discover what an asshole he really was.

She asked me to sit down and to tell her everything that I had remembered and I did.  She sat quiet listening to me, nodding at all the humiliating details of all the bad Lestat had caused me. After I was done she looked at me and began to give me her analysis of him, my emotional state and how this was going to impact me positively and how it could cause him to come back and try even twice as hard to get back into my life.  She asked me how I saw him after I had remembered everything.  I didn’t know how to answer, I honestly felt lost for the very first time in my adult life I didn’t know what to do or feel.  She said she was going to begin by providing a profile of someone like Lestat and that she was going to get super specific about him and his personality.

I sat back in the chair as she began to explain him and how his thought process worked.  She started at the beginning when he first told me he was going to go back to his wife by saying that he did so out of some sort of faded devotion to her because he felt a certain amount of guilt over leaving her with a five year old and a newborn to take care of.  She said that he would have eventually have left me to go back to her because of his kids.  She asked me about his dad which I thought was weird because what did his father have anything to do with how Lestat turned out as an adult?  It turns out a hell of a lot, she asked how much I knew about his parents and so I told her.  After which she said “Well it seems you know more about his childhood and parents than his wife might” and I shrugged as if it was some sort knowledge that only wives would have.

She said it was, so I kept talking about what I knew about his father and when I got to the part where his dad had an entire “other” family and she stopped me, pointed her finger at me and said “wait a minute here, hold on” as she got up, opened the door to her office and called in her secretary.  She whispered something to her and her secretary nodded and then she closed the door.  That’s when she asked me to continue so I did, I told her that his dad had another family that consisted of two boys and their mom for the better part of Lestat’s life.  When Lestat was about eleven years old his dad took the entire family to California to meet their half-brothers and their mom which really blew her away.  She asked me “His dad took his family here to visit his family there? Where was Lestat’s mom in all of this?”  I told her that Lestat had said his mom told him when he was an adult that she didn’t blame the boys his father had with this other lady.

I remember asking Lestat if his mom ever blamed the “other” woman and he said his mom told him that the other women didn’t know Lestat’s dad had another family until she was dying from cancer.  Terry looked at me, her eyes wide open and said “So his mom didn’t blame the other woman but did she blame her husband?”  I told her that by what Lestat had told me she was completely dependent on his dad, she didn’t work, she didn’t know how to drive or have an education, she was a stay at home mom taking care of seven kids, so she had no choice but to stay with his dad no matter how much she might have wanted to leave.  She sat back with a smile creeping over her face and asked me “Do you see why Lestat is the way he is? And do you see he married a woman exactly like his mother?”  I sat there taking in what she was saying and processing the information she had just given me.  She continued by saying “He married a woman that was dependent on him, he does everything for her because of what his dad put his mom through.  It’s bordering on Oedipus syndrome, he has had daddy issues too but mostly sympathized with his mother so he chose a woman like her. He may have not forgiven his father for doing what he did to his mother therefore decided to return to his wife after they decided to divorce.”

The connections were amazingly obvious and why the fuck hadn’t I seen them before?  She continued “He may never really have forgiven his father and yet emulating his behavior by having a girlfriend as well as his wife.  I know it sounds confusing but do you see the connection?”  I nodded yes then she sat up and said “He married a women exactly like his mom, someone that could be manipulated and so dependent on him she would never divorce him.  Then he met you, a woman who thought for herself and whom he taught how to take care of herself financially, albeit in a cruel manner.  Then he saw that you couldn’t be manipulated like his wife and when you began to question his thinking, his authority so to speak, he didn’t know how to react to you pushing back. To put it in simple terms, you are a strong independent, self-sufficient woman who doesn’t really need him.  If he had married you, you would have eventually seen his true character and would have divorced him.  He, on the other hand would have never divorced you because he can’t take that kind of rejection, especially from you so he never committed to you.  He stayed with a woman who would never think for herself and would never leave him, like his mom never left his dad.”

I looked at her, bewildered and she continued by saying that the bottom line was that he couldn’t handle being with someone as intelligent, independent and as strong willed as I am.  She referenced when he had bought his wife the SUV and what I had told him that day during lunch, how I would have taken the car back to the dealership.  She said they (Lestat and Fiona) are both tied into each other financially and it doesn’t matter how much he loved me (if he did at all) or how much Fiona wanted a divorce they have only ever thought of the material losses to their lives.  Lestat with half of his assets and Fiona losing the stability of a two income household that she’s gotten so use to having, not to mention not doing anything remotely responsible because he does everything for her.  It didn’t matter that her personality was akin to something you’d catch from sitting on an airplane toilet seat (thanks Maggie!).

I told her this “revelation” didn’t make me feel any better, and she looked at me and said “Okay then maybe this will, you can see that he acts the way he does because of how his dad treated his mother and how he looked to emulate his dad in his behavior while trying to stay true to his mom by marrying someone that was just as complicit but also easy manipulated.  He was never going to be able to do that to you and I do mean NEVER.  He sees and realizes you are smarter than his wife but also smarter and stronger than he could ever be and he doesn’t want to be outsmarted by anyone, let alone a woman like you.  Someone who’s been through so much despite being knocked down emotionally, physically and mentally you are still standing in spite of everything he’s done to you.”  I asked her “So then he’s afraid of how I might have treated him if we’d stayed together?”  She nodded and said “Exactly, you’ve already outsmarted him by realizing that he, how did you say, Myagied you.  He thought he was going to break you like he did his wife.”   Break me, huh…….interesting. Stay tuned for Part 25……


Part 23………………………………Fishing for an Apology and a Remorseful Vampire

“I don’t need you to worry for me ’cause I’m alright, I don’t want you to tell me it’s time to come home, I don’t care what you say anymore this is my life, Go ahead with your own life leave me alone”- Billy Joel, My Life

I got to work the following morning and as I got off the rental truck, I saw a familiar truck parked two parking spaces away.  I looked at it and rolled my eyes, got my things and walked towards my office.  Lestat got down and said “Can I please talk to you? Please?” I asked him “What exactly do you want to talk to me about Lestat?”  He looked towards the ground, his mouth twisted to one side, and his eyes looked everywhere but in my direction and he said “Just please let me talk to you.  Let’s go get some coffee.”  I was always at work about forty five minutes early every day and I just said “fine” and we walked towards his truck.  As we went for coffee we stayed silent, listening to the radio and then the Eagles song Love Will Keep Us Alive came on.  I reached over and changed the station.  That’s when he spoke and said “Why’d you do that for?” I glared at him and he just said “Sorry” and I sat back as he handed me my coffee.

As we drove back onto campus he finally said “You know, what you did last night could have gotten you arrested” and I responded with “Oh yeah? By whom? If you think that for one minute I’d be afraid of you calling the cops your mistaken.  And you know why?  Because that means you’d have to explain to fat ass Fiona why you were filing a police report in the first place.  I’m not stupid Lestat, if you want to call the police go ahead and let’s see how that goes for you.”  I was thinking he might want some sort of apology for the rental truck gate thing, but he wasn’t going to get one, not from me, not ever.  He drank his coffee in silence and looking away and then I said “Thanks for the coffee and small talk but I have to get to work so I’ll see you later” and got my things and turned to open the door to his truck.  He grabbed my arm and said “I love you, I hope you know that” and I turned to look at him and stayed silent, I didn’t say anything as I got off his truck in front of my office.  As I walked in the door the office phone was already ringing, I just put all my stuff down and sat there at my desk, watching the phone indicator light flash on and off…….

Realizing, I mean really realizing that I had been in a twenty year relationship with a man who had lied to me the entire time was a very bitter pill to swallow.  Some will even call it stupid, blind and emotional denial, it was all of those things.  Somehow I knew in the back of my mind around year thirteen that there was something very wrong with how the course of my relationship with Lestat was going.  But at that point in time I was still very much in love with him but in spite of us breaking up on a regular basis then getting back together in between trying online dating on my part and his constant need for sexual gratification wherever he could get it, it became even more toxic.  Then having to deal with his constant indecision about me, his marriage and our future in general got to be a bit too much emotional baggage to deal with.

I began therapy until 2014 and it was a long time overdue.  Lestat asked me why I thought I needed therapy and at first I answered him saying it was because of all the issues I had regarding my mom, her mental instability and narcissism.  Since he knew my mom and dad he knew what I had gone through with my mom throughout the years.  Yes, you heard that right my parents knew I was dating a married man.  How could that be? Well the fact that when I met Lestat he was separated and in the process of getting a divorce then he back tracked and decided to go back into what I thought was a loveless marriage for the sake of his perfect, Stepford children which of course was bullshit.  But I know that now, then it wasn’t so clear because I was still wearing those rose colored, deceiving glasses of love.

Thank God for Terri and her amazing ability to make me see things I had refused to see and try to come to terms with them.  As previously mentioned Lestat had been helpful a few times like when I moved into my apartment or when I needed things done around my house.  Also when my car needed to be tuned or washed or small stuff like that.  I say small stuff because Terri made me realize that I was trying to make excuses for Lestat rather than seeing him for who he was.  She said I was “trying to redeem him in ways that were unredeemable” and I didn’t see it and when she pointed out those things to me it made me angry.  She didn’t know him the way I did, she didn’t love him or go through all the struggles that I had for and with him.  I mean he was perfect (at first) and I argued that fact with her for three entire sessions.  Then she asked me to tell her about him and his “supportive and loving nature.”  So I did and in the course of doing so I realized I was alone in spite of being in a relationship with a man I thought I loved.

In the winter of 2003 I began working at UTEP, I had been applying there when one of my ex friends (remember tuna girl, serial divorcee and getting pregnant to snag a man friends?) well it was Hilly (getting pregnant to snag a man) who suggested I start applying at UTEP because she worked there and it was a state job with great benefits.  For an entire year I applied and way before it was online, I had to print out the application, fill it out, attach my resume and physically take it to human resources on campus.  It was a long and tedious process but Lestat kept telling me it would be worth it. So when I would tell him I was going to apply for another position, he’d tell me he would pick me up at my current workplace (we’d do this during my lunch hour) and drive me to UTEP so I could drop off my application.  He drove me because parking on campus was a complete nightmare.  He thought driving me would save time this way I could walk in, drop off what I need and he’d pick me up then he’d buy me lunch and we’d eat in his truck or my car and he’d drive me back to work.

This went on for an entire year and I had plenty of interviews but no job offers. Then finally on January 21, 2003 I got a job in the College of Education.  I was over the top ecstatic and so was Lestat, he said that since I was working at a University I didn’t have an excuse to NOT go to school.  One of the very few times he was right, I began my new job and it took me a while longer to start school.  In 2005 I transferred to a different department and my boss let me take classes during the day.  So I began my undergrad career in the summer of 2005 with summer session classes as a “non-traditional” student which is a nice way of saying older students that work.  My classes began at 7:30am until 9:30am so that meant I had to be on campus by 7am every day for May and June.  Then I took a lunch class in July and a night class that went from 5pm to 9pm, needless to say it was a very hectic time for me.  But every morning during my first classes at 7:30am Lestat would show up with breakfast and coffee and we’d have breakfast together in his truck or my car.  I thought (at the time) it was very romantic, that is until my therapist pointed out it was more so he didn’t have to be seen with me out in public at a restaurant.

That is when I had a flashback, memories that I guess I had chosen to bury in the deep, dark recesses of my mind.  Terri had asked me what I was thinking about, I told her that I now remember having lunch with Lestat while I was at UTEP and it consisted of me ordering food over the phone, picking it up and eating in either his truck or my car at Madeline Park in Kern Place, which was the closest park to where I worked.  We would eat during the summer with the air conditioner and car or truck running for an hour, safe and out of view from prying eyes.  Not once did he ask if I wanted to have a sit down lunch at a restaurant. Actually I take that back the only time he’d invite me, I mean INVITE me out to lunch was when I was dating someone else.  When he needed to get laid and wanted to get back into my good graces and my pants.  When I was dating Jeff he invited me to lunch often and I would refuse.  Then he’d say “come on go to lunch with me please, anywhere you want to go.  I’ll take you to Crave, I’ll get there early so I can get us a table” and that’s when I’d go out to eat at a restaurant with him.

Terri turned to her pad and began writing as I remembered what it was like in the beginning, tears filled my eyes and the warm saline fell down my cheeks.  It was humiliating, but I allowed it, I didn’t ask anymore of him.  I gave him everything when it came to me, he never once worked to earn my love and undying devotion, ever! How could have I been so stupid, how could I have allowed myself to go through that and not realized what he was doing to me?  Even though when we met we dated outright, I mean he was separated and I was divorced and we actually had a wonderful two years before his decision to go back to his lazy-eyed wife, but I honestly couldn’t remember what it was like to date him before the relationship apocalypse happened.  When did it become an affair and not a relationship because it sure as hell didn’t start out that way so how did it end up so fucked up?  I fell in love with a man who told me that he was getting a divorce and then went back to his wife so he could “be there” for his kids.

And where did that leave me? In love, in the middle of a relationship I had tried several times to end with no success, and now in therapy to come to terms with the last twenty years of my life with a narcist (why the fuck does spell check tell me that narcist isn’t a fucking word?!?). Worse a narcist, emotional vampire who took advantage of my devotion and love for him to exploit it in order to get everything he didn’t from that imbecilic waste of space he calls a wife. Terri listened to me for over an hour she could see that the memories I had blocked were all bad, and I was trying to justify Lestat’s behavior with the small amount of good he’d done in my life.  She emphasized “small” amount of good when she explained to me that even those small gestures were all self-serving no matter how I much I wanted to see him as having really loved me.

Terri and I began to talk about when I realized that Lestat was indeed an asshole narcist and it had begun right before I started therapy.  I told her about Kyle, Jeff and Waldo (the biggest relationship regret ever) and how I started to notice Lestat getting older and how his habits were more and more annoying as well as how I had been Myagied by him.  She said to me “so in reality he turned you into an independent woman?”  And I looked at her, stunned because I had known that all his financial responsibility lessons were harsh but I never realized that, yes he had. She emphasized how little he had really done for me and how he tried to teach me with harsh abandonment when I needed him the most.  He turned me into a survivor and she said “So you can survive him too, it’s not impossible you just have to want it bad enough.”  Stay tuned for part 24………..


Happy Valentine’s Day to You and Your Dodge Duster!

Carmine: “Red roses, lovely, romantic. The guy that sends these really knows what he’s doing.”

Loretta: “The guy who sends those spends a lot of money on something that’s going to end up in the garbage.” – Moonstruck, 1987.

Well it’s Valentine’s Day, that wonderful holiday where tons of red roses will be delivered to assumingly unaware women all over the country and thousands of pounds of chocolate will accompany them (don’t even get me started about how men get shortchanged on this holiday, I have three boys remember?)  In my office some, not all of the women get beautiful sprawling bouquets of roses, flower arrangements, boxes of chocolate and the occasional stuffed animal.  Oh, and let’s not forget balloon bouquets as well, those shiny mylar globes of happiness…

This is not going to be one of those Grinchy “I hate Valentine’s Day” posts, because I’ve had a couple of noteworthy Valentine’s Day’s with flowers and boxes of chocolates.  But, I wanted to share a Valentine’s Day story from my youth because not all Valentine’s Days are happy for everyone and not everyone’s Valentine’s Day is spent with their significant other.  And sometimes, every once in a while, Valentine’s Day plans don’t go exactly how you wanted them to but due to certain circumstances, you realize that the outcome might have been better than what you had planned.  So here I go……..

In 1983 I was fourteen and in the 8th grade, I made my way as best I could through the hustle and bustle that was my junior high school, which was also the high school.  My hometown was so small that the junior high and high schools were combined.  Which I suppose logistically made sense.  So not only did I have to navigate my way through all the junior high angst but I also had to deal with older, more experienced mean high schoolers.  In the 7th grade I made it to be a crossing guard, and one of the high school girls decided she’d baptize me with a nickname, calling me “pumpkin face” because I was in dire need of braces.  In any case, that was just one of the horrible experiences of junior high I managed to get through barely scared (notice how I said barely).

But in the 8th grade I had caught the attention of a boy, not just any boy but an older boy.  He was a sophomore and I was over the moon in “like” with him.  I didn’t know what love was back then but I knew what like was.  Over the course of the winter months we talked and we’d walk to school together because the school bus would drop students off near my house and then they’d walk a short distance to the high school.  So we’d walk and talk together then one day in late January he asked me if I wanted to go to the Valentine’s Day dance.  I was in heaven, I mean this was the very first boy that had ever and I do mean EVER paid attention to me.  I hung around with a group of girls and we were all friends but there were definitely two distinct groups in our little “gang.”  In one group were the “pretty” girls, the girls that all the guys wanted to hang out with and then there were the “athletic” girls.  Those of us who played basketball, softball and were on the track team and we were also the girls that were approached by boys and asked if we could go ask our “pretty” girlfriends if they’d like to talk or pass them a note.

Or those girls that were asked if you could hold the pretty girls coats, purses or whatever needed holding at dances or any other social occasion.  So when this boy asked me to the dance I was elated to say the least. I told all my friends and they were excited for me.  I told my mom who asked me who this boy was and I told her and she said “okay, what do you need?”  I said I needed a dress and some shoes because well I played sports and my junior high wardrobe consisted of jeans, t-shirts and running shoes.  So she bought me a very pretty red dress and some patent leather heels, the dress was strapless and I loved it.  So this boy who we’ll call Ruben reminded me that we had a date for the Valentine’s Day dance.  As luck would have it, the dance was going to be held at the elementary school gym across the street from my house as the high school gym was dealing with a little problem called asbestos and being “renovated.”

So as the big day approached I began to primp, curl and accessorize, with absolutely no help from my mom.  A couple of my friends helped and I was excited, beyond excited.  Well the day arrived and it was Friday night and I got home to quickly begin my transformation.  The elementary gym across the street was abuzz with all kinds of activity, electrical equipment, decorations, lighting all that jazz.  The dance was going to begin at 7pm and Ruben said he’d walk over to my house to pick me up.  He said he had a car and I was curious to see it since I hadn’t seen him take it school.  So I was ready by 6:30 and my palms were beginning to sweat and I must have checked my makeup about a thousand times.  My parents weren’t home that day, it was payday for my dad and so they went about doing their payday errands and that meant they wouldn’t be home until way after nine that night.

I sat in my living room watching the parking lot in the school across the street begin to fill up with all kinds of cars.  Then when there was no more room in the small parking lot, people began to park on the street which meant in front of our house.  I looked at the clock on the wall and it was already 7:19pm (it’s funny the small things one remembers about certain moments in our lives) and I was beginning to worry.  I decided to sit outside on our front porch to wait for him, that way he didn’t have to come all the way into the yard.  That’s when I saw a brown Dodge Duster pullup to park on the opposite side of the street, right in front of the elementary school.  Then Ruben got out, and waved at me, I got up and began to walk towards the fence door and I opened it and latched it behind me as I stepped out onto the street.

He waved again and he had a big smile on his face, which made me feel pretty good and then he walked around his car to the passenger side door and opened it.  I began to walk across the street towards his car and then a very pretty girl was getting out of his car on the passenger side.  Her name was Sofia Ray and she was a Junior Varsity cheerleader, I felt my entire body go ice cold as I held onto the beautiful black satin wrap that one of my friend’s mom’s had lent me.  I stood there still smiling at him frozen in the middle of the street, like I didn’t know what else to do or how to react.  He waved at me a third time as she took his arm and then she whispered something in his ear and he shrugged his shoulders.  I’m assuming she asked him who I was and he said he didn’t know and walked right past me, up the steps into the gym and disappeared into the flashing colored lights and bombastic sound of the night’s activities.

I was still in the middle of the road looking into the gym doors as if he might come back out and explain what had just happened.  At that moment an approaching car honked at me and I snapped out of it quickly, scared half to death.  The loud honk woke me up but only to realize that I had been the butt of a very cruel joke.  I was the plot line from the film Never Been Kissed with Drew Barrymore before that movie was ever conceived.  I began to walk down to the small plaza in front of the Catholic Church. It had a large gazebo and was surrounded by trees and in the early 80’s it didn’t have but one light on the corner so I had the gift of solitude and darkness so no one could see me cry.  I couldn’t bear the thought of going back home and having to answer a thousand questions from my unsympathetic mother.  Half way there I had to take off the new heels that I was wearing because they hadn’t been broken in.  By the time I got to the plaza my pantyhose were torn and running up my leg and my feet were dirty from the asphalt of the street.

knife heart

As I sat there I heard voices coming from a distance and a one of my friends who lived two blocks from the church saw me and started to walk towards me.  She said hi in a real cheerful tone and I just waved at her and she automatically said “Hey I thought you were going to the dance?”  I just nodded my head no, and she got closer she said “What’s wrong, what happened?”  I couldn’t speak and then she asked her boyfriend to hold her bag of chips, he was from a different school and about seventeen at the time and although I knew who he was I just didn’t want him to know what happened to me, I didn’t want him to know about my humiliation.

She knelt down in from of me and then asked again what had happened, I told her the entire, sad brutal story of what had just transpired in the last forty-five minutes.  My friends name was Toni (short for Antonietta, she hated her name) she was older than I was about sixteen and I had met her in track.  We weren’t close friends but she was one of the few older girls in high school that was nice to me whenever I saw her, she always talked to me and made me feel less of a loser than many of the other high school “pretty girls.”  She was beautiful, athletic and she’s the one that got the other girl that called me pumpkin face to stop.

As soon as I had finished telling her about my ordeal she quickly got up and yelled at her boyfriend “Joey! Go get your car NOW!”  He walked towards her and she whispered something in his ear, he looked at me and nodded his head and left into the darkness.  She sat with me and she didn’t make me talk (she smelled of Love’s Baby Soft perfume and AquaNet hairspray) she just held my hand, sitting there in silence until we saw the headlights of Joey’s 1972 gold Olds Cutlass Supreme.  She took my hand and said “Come on” and I asked her “Where are we going?”  She said “You’ll see” and she told Joey to open the trunk to his car, as he got out he smiled and said “Don’t worry, we’re going to take care of him” and I wondered what the fuck are they talking about?

He turned on the flashlight he was holding and Toni began to look through his trunk.  She said out loud “Found it” and then Joey reached in and pulled out a tire iron and closed the trunk.  I felt like I was in the middle of Goodfellas and Henry and Karen Hill were about to get me in a whole mess of trouble.  We all climbed into Joey’s car and drove towards my house and as Joey passed the four way stop he began to slow down.  That’s when Toni asked me “Which one is his car?” Shocked and a bit bewildered I pointed to the shit brown Dodge Duster parked in front of the school gym.  Joey kept driving until we got to the end of the street and parked in front of one of my neighbor’s houses.  She looked back at me as I sat in the backseat and said “We’ll be right back okay, don’t leave because we’re taking you to McDonalds later, wait here.”

They got out of the car, Joey grabbed his leather jacket from the backseat beside me, Toni got her letterman jacket from her lap and she turned to him and said “ready?” and he nodded yes and they got off the car and began to walk towards the school.  They held hands and Toni looked back and me and gave me a wink as they walked hand in hand.  I saw them walk past the gym into the darkness as their two shadows disappeared.  I waited and waited for what seemed forever.  But in reality it was only about ten minutes.  I sat in the back of Joey’s car, it smelled of Brut cologne and Armor All, he had tons Muscle Car magazine’s on the floor.  I began to feel some of the humiliation start to subside as cars passed on the road, headlights glowing in the distance.  Then I heard talking, laughing and then the sound of tennis shoes running on asphalt in the dark and I saw Toni and Joey coming towards the car and quickly got in.

The doors slammed so fast and Joey started his car up making the tires squeal as he drove us in the opposite direction.  They kept their word and took me to McDonalds which was about fifteen miles away, it was the closest one to the small town we lived in.  We sat there in a booth facing the street watching the traffic pass by, and I asked them what they had done and they laughed and said “Oh nothing really, eat your fries” and they laughed some more.  By the time the night was coming to a close we drove back to San Eli laughing and singing along to the radio, Duran Duran’s Hungry like the Wolf.  I’m sure it wasn’t the Valentine’s Day they had planned on, but then again it wasn’t what I had planned on either.  As we turned the corner to my house I saw flashing lights and people gathered around across the street from my house.  Joey drove slowly and into my drive way and Toni said “Okay girl, have a good night and I’ll see you on Monday at practice” and I nodded and then said “Thanks guys, for everything.”  Joey smiled at me and then he whispered “Hey, make sure that you tell everyone you were with us tonight okay? Just to be safe” then he winked at me and him and Toni looked at each other and smiled as I got off the car. I looked back at Karen and Henry Hill as they pulled out of my driveway, onto the street and watched the red lights of that gold Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme disappear into the night.

I walked towards my house with my shoes in my hand, just then one of the Sheriff’s deputy’s moved his car and that’s when I saw it, what remained of the crappy Dodge Duster that Ruben had driven his cheerleader girlfriend to the dance in.  All the windows, ALL THE WINDOWS were smashed, his windshield wipers were bent up, all four of his tires were not just flat, and they were slashed!  I watched that asshole prick Ruben crying, I mean really crying as the deputy was asking him questions.  I couldn’t believe what Toni and Joey had done, I mean they had really gone to town on this guy’s car, or should I say his older brother’s car as I found out later.  That’s probably why he was crying, he knew he was going to get his ass kicked but that’s just an assumption.  My dad was at the fence talking to another neighbor and they were talking about how there weren’t any street lights on our street and how it was dangerous at night.

I stood there beside my dad looking at that mess of a car and even bigger mess of a prick that drove it there and finally he looked up at me, eyes all red, tears running down his face and I smiled (sarcastically of course) and waved at him as I walked into my house.  That night I went to bed feeling a bit vindicated and not as sorry for myself because I actually had a pretty good time with Toni and Joey that Valentine’s night.  I fell asleep and never thought about Ruben and his crappy car or the cruel joke he played on me, until I wrote this post.  The year after the Dodge Duster incident four streetlights were installed on my street……thanks Toni and Joey, wherever you are!


Part 22……………………….The Eagles, A Rental Truck, Van Helsing and Two Bottles of Beer.

“Got those pretty little straps around your ankles, got those shiny little chains around your heart, you got to have your independence, But you don’t know just where to start” – The Eagles, Those Shoes

Trying to come to terms that Lestat really hadn’t helped me when I needed it and those small gestures I believed he did out of love, I found were only to keep me in his debt and in his emotional grasp.  My therapist held up a mirror to what I believed were feelings of love only to find that I had been poisoned by the emotional vampire I had fallen deeply in love with in my inexperienced youth.  Looking into that mirror was something I had been avoiding for a long time, because I knew the truth about him I just believed wholeheartedly he would change.  But as Terri had explained, realizing this was the easy part, it was going to be a fight both emotionally and physically to break the vampires grip on me.

During our last reconciliation together, which lasted nine months we went through the usual phases of making up, being excited to be together and then it would fade into the same old dull song and dance.  He was excited to be having sex again, well I mean with someone who knew what kind of sex he liked.  I realized the very moment we were done with our reconciliation honeymoon relations I thought to myself “what the fuck am I doing back here again?”  He was, of course okay with it but I began to feel stifled and bored.  The same old routine of getting up in the morning to have coffee, make us breakfast and watch the morning news was getting to be too much trouble.  Terri had said that when I start to feel like anything I do for Lestat is getting to be too much trouble and not worth the effort is when I am already beginning to let go and it was a good thing.

You shouldn’t feel like that with someone you love.  I remember being very confused and thinking to myself why do I feel like this, I love him.  It took a while for it to sink in that I wasn’t in love with Lestat anymore, I was an addict to his presence in my life.  WTF?! Yep, it was true because I had to recall when it was that I was happy and I mean truly happy being with him and it was over ten years ago.  This last reconciliation was in December of 2017, which meant I had to spend the holiday’s alone (well not alone but you get the idea) like I had for the past twenty years.  So I began 2018 unsure of Lestat’s presence in my life and constantly wondering why I was still allowing him to stay.  And questioning whether I was still really in love with him (see how much I doubted myself?).

I’m going to share something one of my uncles told me one time, his name was Manuel, he was my mom’s brother.  I had just separated from my ex-husband I hadn’t met Lestat yet and I was talking to him about my impending divorce.  He asked me “Do you still love your husband? Do you feel like you should try and fix things with him, for you and the boys?”  I quickly (and I do mean quickly) responded and said “no, I feel nothing I’m numb and all I feel towards him is hate and believe me I don’t even want to hate the dude, I just don’t want to give him any power over me at all.”  He took a sip of coffee and smiled, he stayed quiet for a second and then said “Well the fact that you know feeling anything towards him, even hate is giving him power over you then you’re already ahead of the game.  If you feel hate for him, it will go away and one day you will only feel indifference and that’s when you know you are done.  But hate, animosity and sheer rage are sometimes the gateway to feeling nothing at all, as long as you don’t act on those emotions.  When you get to the hate phase you know indifference isn’t far behind and then you know you’re on your way to moving on.”

Now my uncle was a good, kind and generous man and I have always wondered how he came by such sage advice?  I mean one would have to think that he had to go through something serious to have learned such a hard lesson, right?  But I have always remembered that conversation with him.  I mentioned this to my therapist, and she agreed with his message just not quite how he said it but she explained why.  She said that there are stages of emotions one goes through and anger, hate, resentment are some of them but the first one is mourning.  I thought to myself, mourning? Are you serious?  What the fuck do I have to mourn?  Of course after she explained it, it all made sense.  Even though I was now beginning to accept that I was no longer in love with Lestat as well as that I am an addict to whatever it was we had I also had to mourn the loss of my relationship, losing the dream of being with the man that I believed (at one time) was the love of my life.

I went through weeks of trying to figure out my feelings all the while dealing with Lestat being back in my life.  And here’s the kicker, it was easier to pretend with Lestat than to try and make it work, go figure?  Maybe because trying to make it work was exhausting to the point where I wanted to fucking kill him.  Pretending made it easier not to care, not to worry about his feelings, how he felt and it made it easier to dismiss a lot of shit he did and said.  It was easier to not feel jealousy, not care that he had to go home early, and not care whether or not his businesses were doing well or how he felt physically.  That’s when I think he began to sense something was wrong. It also made it easier to push back, like I did when I told him I thought I was smarter than both him and his wife.   In the past I would have never, ever even thought about telling him something so controversial.  That’s when I realized when I was actually, deeply in love with him I’d allow him get away with all kind of shit, threats of leaving me, telling me he didn’t promise me anything, standing me up when we had plans, not answering my phone calls, telling me he had to use two condoms because he didn’t want “me” to get him sick, all the things narcissists use to manipulate their prey.

All that came back in a flood of emotions, and it made me blind rage angry!  And that’s when I began to push back, and I saw how he wouldn’t fight with me as much or he’d be the one to say I’m sorry.  Or if we did fight I would be determined to leave and he’d apologize and ask to come back (he’d always be the one to ask to come back). In therapy I discovered that emotional vampires will usually leave when they don’t get their way.  But Terry said because he already knew no one else was going to treat him and give him what I did that’s why he’d keep coming back.  She also said I need to break that cycle in order to get away from him and finally leave for good.  But that didn’t mean that he didn’t get his jabs in every so often like when the Eagles came to El Paso in 2015, I had mentioned that I wanted to go when it was announced a year before they would be coming to town.

Of course that’s his favorite band and up until then mine as well.  He said he would try to see if he could go with me, if not he’d get me tickets so I could go with my middle son who is a musician.  As the concert drew closer he kept telling me that the only tickets left were super expensive (yeah the mofo has a goddamned Corvette, a “vacation” house in San Antonio he could have easily afforded $150 tickets). So the concert came and went and “we” didn’t go, or so I thought.  One afternoon I was at his office and saw he had a ticket stub framed and on his desk.  I picked it up and looked at it while he was in his workshop grabbing us a couple of beers and as he walked in he saw what I was looking at.  As I looked up at him he stopped dead in his tracks and almost turned white.  I stood there just, holding the small picture frame with the ticket stub in it.  My blood boiled underneath my skin, my fangs began to slowly come out and my breathing became labored and I calmly askes him “Did you go to the Eagles concert?”

He walked towards me with the bottles of Budweiser in his hands and he put them down on the desk as he grabbed me from my shoulders, looking me straight in the eyes and said “I did go” and then I asked him “Did you go alone?” and he let out a loud sighed as if he knew that whatever answer he was going to give me wasn’t going to be the right one.  He finally said “No, I didn’t go alone, you know who I went with” as he walked back to sit down on the leather couch.  My grip on the picture frame got tight as I began to set it down next to the bottles of beer on his desk.  But right before I did, he turned to sit on the couch and I threw the picture frame at him as hard as I could.  I mean I hadn’t tried so hard to throw something that fast since I played softball in junior high.

I saw everything in slow motion, the frame flying through the air, Lestat slowly sitting down and then looking up as the frame missed his head by inches, it hitting the beige wall behind him, glass and wood shattering into pieces, flying in all directions around him.  If anyone’s ever seen the movie Van Helsing with Hugh Jackman, there’s a scene where he and Dracula face off and they finally see each other for who they are for the very first time, two monsters.

Van Helsing

Van Helsing turns into a huge, menacing (albeit handsome) black werewolf and Dracula turns into a grotesque flying monster that he’s been hiding underneath his smooth talking handsome facade.  That’s exactly what that very moment felt like, Lestat and his creation staring each other down, in an anger filled the room.  He quickly got up from the couch and he yelled at me “what the fuck?!  What did you want me to do, leave my wife home while I went to the concert alone?  Don’t you think she was going to ask why I wasn’t taking her?!”  I saw that there was nothing left of the ticket stub that he had carefully preserved in the small picture frame.  The impact and glass had shattered not just the frame and glass but the paper ticket stub and it lay in pieces on his office floor.

I stood there shaking with rage, my cold heart dead silent.  Lucky for me Charlene (my brain) was awake and in good spirits ready to respond.  I looked up at him and yelled at his dumb ass “If you didn’t want me to know you went to the Eagles concert with your insipid wife you shouldn’t have framed the goddamned ticket stub and put it here on your desk where you know I would eventually see it!  Second, YES YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO TAKE HER BECAUSE YOU’VE TOLD ME OVER AND OVER SHE DOESN’T EVEN LIKE THE EAGLES! I KNOW ALL SHE LISTENS TO SELINA GOMEZ AND ONE DIRECTION LIKE THE FUCKING MENTAL MIDGET SHE IS!!! AND THAT YOU WERE GOING TO TRY AND TAKE ME!!!”  I could see the confusion on his face because I had never, and I do mean never displayed any kind of anger like I did that day in front of him or towards him.  He started to walk towards me and I stepped back and said “You are a lying piece of shit you know that?  You told me the tickets were too expensive and that ticket stub was for a $350 ticket (fifth row seats no less) you bought $700 worth of tickets for you and that idiot you call a wife to go and see a band you told me you wanted to see WITH ME!!”

I looked at him and then said “I hope to hell it was worth your time and money asshole!” then he said “she didn’t even enjoy it, she was bored the entire time” and I turned to get my purse to leave and said “Good, it sounds like that seems to be the theme of your entire marriage, BORING, but it makes me wonder, who’s bored of who?!” His expression changed drastically and appeared even more confused at how I was acting (or should I say reacting). Then I remembered that I had parked the rental car I had inside his office gates, actually it was a brand spanking new 2015 Ford F-150.  I had a rental car because I was getting my car fixed, it needed to be painted because some stupid lady tried to pass me at a stop light with her Jeep and scraped the back fender of my Ford Fusion.  I asked him to open the gate and he just said “no.”  I responded with “open the fucking gate Lestat or I swear I’m going to leave whether you open it or not!”  He smirked and said “I’d like to see you try,” I think he realized at that very moment maybe he shouldn’t have said what he did because I picked up one of the bottles of beer from his desk and threw it at him.

It flew past him and straight into the doorway leading to his workshop, beer and glass splashing all over the door the filing cabinet and his drafting table.  He looked at me and sat down on his desk chair, crossing his arms in defiance.  I got my purse, picked up the remaining bottle of beer and walked out as I looked for the keys to that beautifully polished rental truck in his driveway.  I unlocked the truck and got in, he stood at the back door to his shop and looped the keys to the gate through his fingers as a taunt.  I sat there not once taking my eyes off of him, opened the bottle of beer, drank half and opened the window, threw the bottle against his building and started the truck.  It was almost as if fate was egging me on because as soon as I started the truck the satellite radio came on and Alanis Morissette’s song “You Oughta Know” came on, the soundtrack for what I did next.  I put the truck in reverse, he heard me rev up that Ford eight cylinder engine and his eyes got wide as he began to run towards the truck.  Right then and there I put my brand new black patent leather high heel on the gas. I knew there was no one in back of the truck or the driveway behind the chain link fence doors he’d padlocked when I arrived, and I hit that pedal.  I heard the tires screech and that truck had no problem taking down those two padlock chained doors while I backed all the way out of his driveway.  I could hear the fence doors hitting the tailgate, then the bumper and finally the concrete. I put the truck in drive, dragging the two doors a good twenty feet or so into the street because one caught on the edge of the bumper, making bright orange sparks in the evening twilight.  They finally came loose and I saw him in my rear view mirror walking towards the mess that remained of his fence.  I think he knows who won that argument that day.

My phone rang incessantly for two hours after that little incident but I didn’t answer, and oddly enough I didn’t cry either.  Stay tuned for Part 23……..


Friday Post…..I’m Tired Too…

I’m going to follow suit on Tater’s recent post about being tired.  When I read his post he said he wanted to rant but was too tired to do so, instead he wrote a short post about the things that he’s tried about today, so I thought I would do the same except mine is a bit more self-absorbed because of the following:

I have a story I’ve been telling about a real life situation regarding myself and a certain emotional sucking vampire and I’m tired of writing about him, myself and the anguish he’s put me through.  My story about him is almost coming to an end and I’m both relived and worried.  Relived that it’s been going on six months since I’ve last seen or heard from him and there’s nothing that I want more than to finally move on and leave him behind and worried that after I’m done I’ll have nothing to write about.  For twenty years my life has been entangled with his for better or worse, mostly worse who am I kidding here?  But nonetheless I’ve been connected to this selfish man and it has taken up a lot of my time both physically and emotionally.

The reason I started this blog was because it was suggested by my therapist, she believed it would be cathartic and I would be able to unveil his narcissism to the world without revealing who he is and what he’s done without naming names.

But I’m tired of the ghost of his presence living in my life, dealing with the aftermath of what I consider to be the equivalent of the Titanic of relationships and the wake of crap he’s left behind.  I’m tired of writing about him, reliving everything I’ve gone through because of him.  I’m tired of trying to find “positive” things to fill the void of time I have to deal with now that he’s not here.  I’m tired of this entire mess period, and I just want to move on but as my therapist put it, I can’t move on until I finish this journey, writing about him and cut all ties with him metaphorically of course because physically he’s gone.  Emotionally not so much, but I’m sure that will take some time.

In the mean time there are a lot of things I wish for, so I decided to write some of those “wishes” down.

Here are the things I wish:

  1. I wish unicorns were real.
  2. I wish the lady in the cubicle next to mine didn’t listen to Mexican oldies.
  3. I wish that the receptionist in our office didn’t say “epcept” instead of except.
  4. I wish Lestat’s dick would fall off.
  5. I wish his fat ugly wife would die in a fiery crash on I-10 where her or her car were unrecognizable.
  6. I wish I didn’t wish the one above, I still wish his dick would fall off though.
  7. I wish my therapist wasn’t so good at telling me the brutal honest truth but I suppose I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for her.
  8. I wish I was stronger.
  9. I wish Jeffery Dean Morgan would walk into my office and propose to me.
  10. I wish I were a hit woman and get paid to make bad people’s lives a living hell, because I can do that without getting paid but a girl has to make a living right?
  11. I wish I didn’t like (okay LOVE) chocolate croissants so much.
  12. I wish I could kick the campuses parking attendant’s ass for giving out tickets just to meet her stupid quota, her name is Shirley and she deserves a good ass kicking.  She thinks her ticket book is a revolver and wears it in a holster like a gunfighter, ugh.
  13. I wish I could mainline tequila, I’m a lightweight I get drunk on champagne vinegar.
  14. I wish my knee wasn’t so fucked up so I could take kickboxing (and be a hit woman with what I learned in kickboxing).
  15. I wish I could be in a flash mob dance scene.
  16. I wish just once, I could drive down I-10 like Burt Reynolds in the Smokey & the Bandit movie and get to work in less than five minutes, swerve into my parking space all cool and shit and walk into my office with aviator sunglasses on and go to work like that was what I do every day.
  17. I wish my doctor wasn’t married because he’s a cutie and grrrrrrr.
  18. I wish I could afford to take a spa day, all I can do right now is give myself a clay mask and have a glass of wine sitting in my back yard listening to Rocco and Jerry my neighbor’s dogs bark.
  19. I wish I could meet each and every one I’ve met here in the blogosphere. Because these people are wonderful!

This is the Huntress915 over and out.


Part 21………………..Turning the Tables and Mind Fucking the Emotional Vampire

“You don’t know right from wrong, well the love we had is gone, so blame it on your lying, cheating, cold dead beating, two-timing and double dealing, mean mistreating, loving heart”-Patty Loveless, Blame It On Your Heart            

The idea that I had insinuated I didn’t believe he was as smart as I was really weighed heavy on his mind.  He said he knew I was more intelligent than his wife (wow that was a real shocker *sarcasm intended*) but he though we were on the same page on most everything we talked about.  I said I knew his wife couldn’t even come close to anything I’ve done or accomplished and I added………. “yes, yes I am smarter than your stupid, six time certification failing, no backbone, financially dependent, overweight, lazy eyed, horse faced, fake blonde, colored contact lens, denim skirt, croc wearing wife.”  He asked me again if I honestly believed he wasn’t as smart as I was (by this time I was exhausted of the subject) and I said “yes.”

“What the fuck!?!” he said out loud, then he looked at me with an intensity, I can only describe as a wolf eyeing its prey.  We had this conversation while he was at my house one afternoon after work.  He had gotten up off the couch, I looked up at him, slowly got up from the couch myself and looked up into his now fifty-five year old eyes and said “what do you want me to tell you?”  He’s 6’1 so he’s a lot taller than I am and I had to really look up to look him square in the eye.  His breathing became heavy with anger and he said “do you really believe that you’re smarter than I am?” As I looked deep into his eyes that were now filled with animosity and confusion, for a moment I found myself back in time, remembering when I thought he was the love of my life….

When I first moved into the house I’m in now, he was very happy because he didn’t have to drive all the way to Fabens to see me on a Saturday.  I had moved out of my mother’s house and back to the town where I had sworn I would never live in again because my middle son was two years away from graduating high school and he didn’t want to change schools.  So what did I do? I found a two bedroom, one bath apartment and paid $185 a month in rent so my son could finish high school with his friends.  That meant that I lived 29 ½ miles from El Paso, and it also meant I couldn’t see Lestat as often.  So he decided that it would be easier for him to drive to my house and spend the entire day with me.  Now, I’m going to be fair here and mentioned the couple of times he was actually helped me, and moving into this apartment was one of them.

The apartment was in a quadraplex and it was big for being a two bed, one bath and when I finally had found it and showed it to him, he was not pleased.  It had a good sized kitchen and the bedrooms were adequate but it didn’t have any light fixtures, or mini blinds and the linoleum in the living room was “supposedly” new but it was rolling up from the corners.  He turned and looked at me and said “I can’t let you live here, not with this place looking like shit” and I said to him, this is all I can afford right now.  He kissed me and said “I’m going to fix this place up for you, but you can’t move in until I do.”  I felt that warm sensation one feels when they’re in love and I kissed him back, hugged him as tight as I could said thank you.  It took him three days to fix up the apartment and I helped as much as I could.  He bought tile (actual tile not rolled linoleum) and installed it in the entire living room.  He put mini blinds in all seven windows, installed ceiling fans in the living room and both bedrooms.  As he was installing the mini blinds in the kitchen and he looked at the stove the apartment came with and he said “does that thing even work?” and I turned and tried to light all the burners and only two came on.

He went back to installing the blinds and when he was done we sat down to have lunch, he had bought pizza and all of us (including youngest boys) and sat at the kitchen table and ate.  He looked at me and asked what I planned to use for a fridge since the apartment didn’t come with one.  I said I would use an ice chest for now and I would try and find a used one when I could afford it.  The boys finished their food and went into the bedroom to unpack.  He turned to look at me and said “I have an idea, you need to go to Lowes and apply for credit.  Buy a refrigerator, a microwave, stove, blender and toaster and I’ll make the payments.”  I got up and sat on his lap at the kitchen table and hugged him, I couldn’t kiss him enough.

That Sunday my mom and I went to Lowes to see if I could put Lestat’s plan into action, of course I didn’t qualify for the Lowes credit card.  But my mom did, she said she’d do it I told her he would give me the payment and then I’d give it to my mom so she could pay off the account, she agreed.  I had a new fridge, stove, microwave, blender and toaster in my refurbished apartment.  He also painted the living room and kitchen.  I lived there for two years and four months before I found a house in the city, I couldn’t get out of that one and a half horse town fast enough.  He helped me move from the apartment into the rental home, and when we left the apartment he took down the ceiling fans and installed them in the rental house.  I mean technically there didn’t belong to the property, they were mine.  This was when I still believed he loved me, when I thought that if I waited until he was ready he’d want to be with me.

Back to the “conversation” he and I were having……his face turned hard, his body language spoke volumes and I just stood there eye to eye with him not backing down from what I had just said.  He said to me “I can’t believe you actually think that way about me?”  I yelled at him and said “Are you fucking serious? You have to be completely devoid of any perception of our relationship not know that I’ve changed, that I no longer see you the way I use to!”  Now, I also have to explain that Lestat came from a very successful family, he’s one of seven sibling’s six boys and one girl.  His extended family (cousins, uncles etc.) also consisted of successful businessmen, almost all in general construction.  And he was in business with his oldest brother, and one of his brothers in the FBI so my verbalizing that I didn’t think he was as intelligent as I was hit his ego hard.

But like everything in our relationship I was doomed to have to explain exactly how and why, which got old fast.  I had spent the entirety of our twenty year relationship having explaining a lot to him, and I mean A LOT!  For instance, he couldn’t follow a movie that had different timelines, like the Amazon series Man in the High Castle.  It has alternate timelines and I can follow the episodes without any issues.  But for Lestat, I had to explain what was going on, who the characters were and what they were doing, more than once.  That series goes back and forth into different alternate times in American history, and he’d sit there next to me and say “I’m totally lost, what’s going on?” So needless to say we only watched the first season because I got tired of trying to explain the plot and therefore I wasn’t enjoying it because of his inability to understand.

Also, if a movie had subtitles (God forbid the fucking movie had subtitles!) that was an entire clusterfuck of explanation or should I say translation.  I’m a fast reader so subtitles for me aren’t an issue, I can read as fast as the titles come on screen and understand whats being said.  But watching a foreign movie with Lestat was excruciatingly painful, with the same “I’m lost lets watch something else” comment.   I’d agree and then go back and watch the foreign film alone, in peace no translating, no explaining no teaching him anything.  I can also speak and read Spanish (that’s a given) so I can understand some Italian, Portuguese and French in films because they are all romance languages and some of the verbiage is similar.

By the time we had the conversation of do you think you’re smarter than I am, I was tired of all his shortcomings.  Now I am not by any means a narcist, self-absorbed, I don’t think highly of myself nor do I try to compare myself to anyone or diminish anyone else’s accomplishments.  Also I not saying that someone that can’t understand foreign films or follow a film with alternate timelines is stupid, hell my boys are that way sometimes especially with foreign films (I think it’s a guy thing).  But being in a relationship with a self-absorbed, self-serving, narcissistic emotional vampire, I felt the need to defend myself and to cut him off at the knees both emotionally and egotistically.  Not my best personal moment ever but when you have to be the tutor/teacher to a grown ass man in his mid-fifties all the fucking time ones patience can wear agonizingly thin.  Coming to terms with what I had discovered in therapy I had no clue as to how to deal with life without Lestat, so I didn’t know if I should push the envelope any farther than I already had.  Yes I had realized that he turned out to be an emotional sucking, narcissistic, selfish, womanizing asshole (I’m pretty sure that is the exact definition for him).  I felt a void already growing even though I hadn’t cut ties completely with him.  At this point in my life Prince Charming and Carlos were still MIA (bastards).

Then one day my therapist asked me why felt the need (in the early stages in my relationship with Lestat) to compare myself to his wife?  Because I had, don’t ask me why it was just always there in the back of my mind.  I would constantly think to myself “why can’t he leave her? What is it about her that he just can’t file for divorce?”  My therapist asked me to define her the way I saw or felt about her so I did.   I remember distinctly feeling a bit uncomfortable because what was my therapist going to think of me if I described her?  Would she think me shallow and insecure? I hesitated and she looked at me, her eyes trying to find what I was feeling.  She spoke softly and said “What’s wrong? It’s not like you haven’t told me what you think of her, why is it so hard to describe how you feel about her?”  She was wearing a light pink Channel style suit, with white high heels and a beautiful string of pearls that delicately hung around her neck.  She sat on her pink Queen Anne chair (she likes pink) and had her hand to her temple, looking at me waiting for me to answer.

I cleared my throat and I said “I don’t have a hard time describing her, what I have a hard time doing is being nice about describing someone I don’t even know.”  She leaned forward and put her arms on her knees and said to me “I’m not asking you to be nice about your description about her, I’m asking you to describe how you think of her.”  I told her that I had always felt that somehow I wasn’t as good as his wife was, therefore that’s why he didn’t have the balls to leave her.  But as time went by I realized that not only was I a better person, I was a better woman in every aspect.  I got up off the chair I was sitting in and walked to the plate glass window that faced the street, and as I looked down at the people making their way through their day from the third story, unbeknownst to them that at that very moment I wanted to fling fat ass Fiona out that very window even if she wasn’t even there.  My therapist must have sensed what I was thinking because she said “do feel like physically hurting Fiona?” I turned back and said “all the fucking time, but it’s really not her fault the one I should fling out of this window is Lestat”  That’s when she said (I’m going to call her Terri because she needs a name) “now we’re getting somewhere” and I walked back to the chair I had been sitting in and sighed loudly.  Terri asked me to elaborate about what I had just said, and I told her that after twenty fucking years of waiting and crying after all the anguish and heartbreak Lestat put me through it was him, not his wife that had done this to me.

She began to write on her pad and then looked up at me and said “so now that you know it’s not Fiona, do you still feel the same about her?”  I laughed and said “of course I fucking do.  I never said I didn’t hate her very existence I said it wasn’t her fault.”  She looked at me and then told me she was going to explain why I felt the way I did.  She began by telling me that although I knew it was Lestat and his inability to make a decision, a decision we all knew he wasn’t going to make to begin with.  She said I associated all the bad feelings I had about him with reasons why he wouldn’t get a divorce.  She said that I blamed his wife, kids and business as to why he wouldn’t just get a divorce and marry me.  Which is true, the motherfucker told me when he went back to Fiona he was doing it “for the kids.”  Then it was until his kids graduated from high school, then it was after he settled his business and then it was………..all fucking bullshit!

She said that he used his family to keep me at bay so I wouldn’t keep asking him if he was going to get a divorce.  She said it was normal for me to feel that way about his family and that she was glad I realized that it was all him and only him to blame.  I told her I knew this a while back but didn’t want to accept it, she asked me to explain what I meant.  I told her that he was going to buy a house in San Antonio “for his kids” so he didn’t have to pay rent for his daughter and so his son could rent out his home, I knew he was never going to be with me.  Not really be with me because for the asshole prick to go and buy a house in San Antonio so his kids didn’t have to pay rent was bullshit, he was buying a 3200 square foot home with a pool in San Antonio so he and his ugly, fat, repugnant wife could go and spend the holidays in “their” house without worrying about staying a hotel room or with their son.  I had also told her that I had finally asked him to give me a straight answer about us, about if he ever saw us together and that he said no because he was afraid of losing half of his assets.

She stopped writing in her pad and looked up at me and asked “he actually answered you?”  I said that he had and that’s when the realization that Lestat had played me for twenty years hit me, and it hit me hard.  Stay tuned for part 22……


Part 20…….The Emotional Vampire and the Dysfunctional Addiction Conundrum.

“And after all these years, I figure it’s time to say goodbye, I’m doing you a favor baby, I will not help you live a lie”- Don Henley, You Don’t Know Me At All

His annoying habits had begun to take its toll on me and after years of counseling I realized that it wasn’t so much that I was in love with Lestat, I was addicted to the dysfunctional relationship we had built over the years.  My counselor made me realize this one day during a two hour session.  It’s not like I didn’t know that I deserved better, I did but for some twisted, toxic reason I kept going back to Lestat time after dysfunctional time.  And that was probably because I was somewhat comfortable with how our relationship had evolved after two decades of on and off chaotic relations.  I knew what he liked, his moods, his interests, his vulnerabilities etc., just like he knew mine, well some of them anyway.  My state of mind at that point was it became too tedious to start from scratch all over again with someone new, especially given the online dating disasters I had experienced.  Along with my dysfunctional relationship with an emotional vampire I was also an emotional cutter.

For unknown reasons I’d look at his kids and ugly wife’s Facebook pages only to find family pictures of him with his family posing as happily as can be and finding myself looking at this from the outside in.  Then one day, my counselor asked me why I did that?  I didn’t have an answer for her, she asked me to really think about why I would want to look at him happy with his legitimate family when it hurt me so bad.  After a couple of minutes I told her that it was probably to see what I wasn’t as good as, why he chose to stay in a marriage he said he didn’t want to be in but stayed for the sake of his kids.  She then asked me to find a picture of them from one of their social media pages on my iPad, and I did.  She studied it for a good five minutes in silence, her eyes moving back and forth on the family photos and finally sighed.  She said “Okay look at this” as she pointed to a picture of them standing in front a Christmas tree all smiling and looking like they belonged in a picture frame advertisement photo that comes with the frame when you buy it.

“Look at this picture of him with his family” as I did she told me “YOU are not only good enough for him, you are better than he is and everything you think you want from him isn’t even real.  HE is the one that isn’t good enough for you” I couldn’t help but cry as she’s telling me this and I for a split second thought to myself, she’s only telling me this because I was paying her to.  But I quickly realized she was right, he wasn’t good enough for me.  Then she continued and said “what you see there is fake, it’s a distorted, dishonest, and fictitious presentation to the rest of the world, he has to pretend to be a happy loving father and devoted husband, which obviously he’s not.  Unbeknownst to his seemingly perfect family, he’s had a girlfriend for twenty years, he’s a cheat and a liar.  He has to keep up appearances and what’s worse is that his family is so disconnected from who he really is they don’t know the real Lestat.  And you, you can actually be happy if you truly want to be.  But you can’t be until you get rid of this overweight, over inflated egotist who has this hold over you which I can’t understand.”  She handed me a tissue and as I wiped away the tears she asked me “what hold does he have on you that you can’t walk away from him?  What is it about him that you just can’t live without? It certainly isn’t money because he hasn’t helped you financially.  It’s not that he’s kind and loving where you can say he has treated you so good you are afraid to lose him.  It isn’t that he’s committed to you and only you, because he’s not.

What is it that you can’t see yourself without this lying, cheating, bloated narcissist? Is he that good in bed?”  I started to laugh and she asked me why I found that so funny  I told her that he hadn’t been good in bed for years and that I have no real reason for feeling like I’m not good enough for him.  She sat back in her dusty rose pink Queen Anne chair and put her pen to her lips and said “so why are you still dragging this dead weight around?”  I responded with I had no fucking clue and she said to me that I needed to just walk away and go through the process of grieving my relationship with Lestat and move on with my life.  After all I had no reason to hang on to the insensitive motherfucker and there was no commitment from him and after twenty fucking years there was no way he was going to make up his mind.

She pointed out that he wouldn’t make up his mind because I had made it so easy for him not to, and that really pissed me off.  Because she was right, I had done everything in my power to give him everything he wanted from me that he never had to earn it.  He never had to earn my love, my trust or my devotion I gave it all away because I was in love with his stupid ass and I never made him work for it.  He on the other hand made me work tirelessly over and over for his time and affection.  This made me angry I mean the Incredible Hulk type angry, and my counselor suggested I start to run, walk or take up kickboxing to channel my anger and to help me find a way to make my escape which let’s face it wouldn’t be easy.  My counselor had made me realize I wasn’t in love with Lestat anymore, I was addicted.  But to be honest I’m not sure which is worse, because basically she’s telling me being addicted isn’t as bad as being in love, wtf?!

That day Lestat had asked if he could stop by my house after work, and I reluctantly said yes and he asked me if I’d like ice cream or something sweet.  I told him I didn’t feel like it, and he said “are you sick? It’s not like you to turn down ice cream” and I thought to myself so now it starts the separation of emotional dependence and my last and final attempt at relationship rehab.  He came over and stayed his obligatory hour and fifteen minutes and we watched the same old programs, Jeopardy and M*A*S*H.  Just a side note I love MASH, I use to watch it with my grandfather as a kid, but didn’t quite get the humor until I became an adult.  But somehow watching it with him became stale and uninteresting, but when I watched it alone I couldn’t get enough of Radar, BJ, Hawkeye, Winchester and Col. Potter, I was in army heaven with this show.  The very next morning he called me to tell me he was on his way for our daily coffee session before we both went to work.  The routine of our relationship was beginning to weigh heavy on me, I would get up every morning at 5am to be ready by 6am so I could spend about half an hour to forty-five minutes sitting in my living room having coffee and watching the news. But not before getting manhandled as soon as he walked in the door, messing up my makeup and lifting my dress so he could feel my legs and his insisting we have sex before we went to work because it was “sexy and hot.”  I’d refuse then he’d get mad at my refusal and I’d say “you don’t have to come over for coffee you know?”  He’d give in and then I’d have to sit there listening to him bitch and complain about everything that was wrong with our country, how medical advancements aren’t really “advancements” and how he hated the New England Patriots and the Dallas Cowboys but if he had to choose to root for one he’d go with the Patriots because he hated the Cowboys more (I have to agree with him on this one, just sayin’).

I could hear my counselor’s voice in my head telling me to begin to tell him I was busy when he’d ask if he could come over, or when he’s plan to come over all day on a Saturday.  She said I needed to stop having coffee with him every morning that I needed to break the habits he was so comfortable with.  So I did, and at first he was fine with it because he thought I was sick or needed to sleep a bit more.  But after a week he began to ask why, and I just said to him that I was tired of getting up that early and making him coffee and breakfast.  He did get hurt because I could hear it in his voice.  Let’s face it I catered to him a lot because I knew he didn’t get treated like that at home and for a long time it pissed me off that his wife was so careless with how he felt.  But then I realized that was his fault, he got her use to not caring about anyone but herself and her ugly kids.  Just like it was my fault that he was careless with my feelings because I got him use to that kind of treatment from me.

Before long I’d begin to debate his ideas and opinions and he’d begin to ask me why I was arguing with him.  I told him that we weren’t arguing we were debating, and he said it sounded like arguing to him.  I told him what he didn’t know about a lot of things could fit into the Grand Canyon and then he accused me of saying I thought he was stupid.  I laughed and referenced an article about how couples who are married and one is more interested in constant learning and the other being completely happy with their life no matter how stagnant, the “intellectual” one was bound to begin to think like the stagnated partner.  I could see that he began to get annoyed and he said “So you think I’m starting to become like my wife?” and I said “of course you are, your opinions are so draconian in nature you don’t even realize how you sound.  Are you now sitting and watching Saved by the Bell together or what the fuck?”  He got up and said to me “I resent that you think you’re smarter than me.”  Which let’s face it that thought never, ever crossed my mind.  I thought of us as intellectual equals because he was/is very smart (in business, not in life hello?) even though he never went to college I admired him for all he had accomplished in his business life, running his company and how he kept turning his success into even more successful ventures.  But he had built this monster I had inside and it was bound to one day bite him in the ass, and that day it did.  So I turned to him and as narcissistic and egotistical as it sounded I told him “of course I don’t think that I’m smarter than you are” his face softened and I could see him relax a bit and that’s when I thought I’d mentally castrate him and finished by saying “I know I’m smarter than BOTH of your combined.”  Stay tuned for part 21……


Part 19……The Emotional Vampire’s Two Condom Rule and other Personal Disasters.

“I hold onto this pride because these days it’s all I have and I gave you my best and we both know you can’t say that” – Little Big Town, Better Man

So, on to more about my nightmare online dating adventures. There were some that were not bad, they actually went okay but well those, those guys probably thought I was too much trouble because I never heard back from them…..at all.  One particular one comes to mind, his name was Luis and he contacted me and we began talking for about a week then he asked me out.  He took me to dinner at a German restaurant off of Viscount and I-10 and I actually liked the atmosphere and the food.  It was a German pub type feel and I felt very comfortable there and Luis and I talked about everything.  I thought this guy had potential which was, let’s face it, something I hadn’t thought of with fake US Marshal Rick and Oompa Loompa David.  So after dinner he walked me to my car and we hugged and I thought he’s for sure he’ll call me tomorrow as I drove off feeling a bit more positive than the previous online dating experiences.

I sent him a text later on that night to thank him again for dinner and a very pleasant evening and he had sent me a short and not so sweet “No problem” response and as I stared down at my phone I wondered if he thought the date was a bust.  I waited for him to text me the next week and nothing, so I gave up on Luis after another text I sent him and got no response.  I thought to myself alright then we’re moving on, Sharleen (my brain, remember?) had finally said to me forget about it, don’t dwell and move on down the line.  Which I did, so my next online date didn’t even get to the twenty minute mark because this guy, whose name was Sergio was all sweet and a gentleman on the phone and via text.  I got my hopes up again telling myself I have to remain positive but that all went down the drain when he said we should have a drink first and then we’d plan a proper date.  I agreed because I kept getting encouragement from my friends even after the horrendous dates I had already experienced.

We agreed to meet at Pelican’s, a restaurant and bar on the eastside of town.  He asked what I would be wearing so he could recognize me (even though I sent him a picture) when I walked it, and I told him.  I got ready and once again I got all dressed up and put on my best everything.  As I drove to the restaurant I began to feel a bit nervous and thought about him and everything he had told me.  He was an employee in management with El Paso Electric, divorced father of three, a bachelors in information technology from UTEP and had just bought a house in the Briargate estates, close to where I lived and I began to feel a bit intimidated.  But I tried to shake off that feeling because I was getting ahead of myself and didn’t want to overpower my confidence with intimidation over a guy I hadn’t even met yet.  As I walked from my car I tried to look as cool and confident as possible, trying not to trip over my own heels.

I got to the front door of the restaurant and he had told me to ask for him so they could direct me to his table, and that’s what I did.  As I followed the waiter to the table my hands began to sweat and my breathing began to get labored as I tried to remember that this was just first date/drinks.  I walked towards a very good looking older gentleman (he was 56 and I was 45 at the time) as the waiter motioned with his hand for me to sit down, Sergio looked past me as if looking towards the door.  The waiter left and I looked at him and said “Hi Sergio” and then he looked at me up and down and responded with “Veronica?”  I was taken back as I wondered why he was surprised or what he could possibly be thinking because it’s not like he didn’t know what I looked like because all my pictures on my profile were recent.  I answered “Hi, yes nice to meet you” and stuck my hand out to shake his.

He hesitantly extended his as he still had this confused annoyed look on his face, and I finally cleared my throat and said “Um, is there something wrong?”  As he still held my hand he blatantly said “Well, um yeah.  I thought you’d be younger” and at that very moment I yanked my hand out of his and I responded with “Oh really? And I thought you’d be smarter” and quickly turned around and walked out of the restaurant towards my car.  I am usually a very strong woman, and I can try to contain my emotions but this was a poison arrow aimed directly at my self-confidence and self-esteem, shot there by a careless narcissistic man.  I drove home with tears streaming down my face ruining my makeup.  But by this time I didn’t care as I pulled into my garage with mascara streaking down my cheeks.  I undressed in the darkness of my bedroom and got in to take a shower to scrub myself clean of the Perry Ellis 360 perfume, drowning in embarrassment and anger of what had just transpired because of an insensitive asshole who never even bother to get to know me but judged me on my age.  I cried and screamed as loud as I could as I knew no one would hear me with the shower running as I clung to the slippery tiles of my shower wall.

Finally the anger subsided and I got out of the shower and changed and made myself a cup of tea (paired with a tin, an ENTIRE TIN of Royal Dansk butter cookies, hey those things are the shit) and sat out in my backyard watching the sky turn from a light blue, to a faded purple-orange sunset. I took in the peacefulness of my own little world comforted by hot tea and butter cookies.  That was the very last online date I was on and decided from that night forward I would give up the online dating thing because let’s face it, it’s brutal to be middle aged and trying to date the way millennial’s do.  Even in spite of dating sites that claim to be designed specifically for the older crowd, it’s utter bullshit.  Let’s face it, there are a lot and I do mean a lot of assholes (both men and women) out there especially on this online dating scene.  Soon after I reconciled with Lestat for the fourth-hundred and sixty seventh time (no it wasn’t that many times but it sure as hell fells like) and we began the honeymoon phase of our reconciliation once again.  This phase seemed to get shorter and shorter every time we got back together.

Because of course the emotional vampire will play on the vulnerability of the emotional state of mind and being emotionally weak because of all my online debacles, I allowed him to do so.  Somehow I tried to find his redeeming qualities every time we got back together, I mean after overlooking the fact that one) he was married and two) that he never gave me anything remotely supportive in return and three) by this time around I knew that there was no way I would want him in my life on a full time basis.  In spite of his self-righteous attitude towards me when we would get back together, I’d overlook it, many, many times, case in point.  I had online dates that were disasters, but nothing more disastrous as Lestat’s attitude towards me after the “serious” attempts at relationships while we were apart.  The first thing we’d do when we’d reconcile would be to have sex (hello? It’s a given I think in any relationship) and although I was extremely careful with my other relationships in using protection it would always be a fight with Lestat and his idea of “protection.”

The only two times I had intimate relationships with other men were with Waldo (yuck) and Kyle and that was because I actually dated these men, I never even tried with Jeff because he was “unable” to have sex if you know what I mean.  It wasn’t one night stands or for fun, it was because I honestly believed I might build a long lasting relationship with them.  But as we know Waldo was an idiot and Kyle was transferred to another army base in Fort Campbell.  So for as long as I can remember he would make the most callus comment and that was his explanation as to why he needed to use two condoms (at the same time).   He’d say “I need to be careful because I don’t want you to get me sick” and I would stupidly comply.  Why? Because I was in love with the bastard and I didn’t know any better or realized he was being a complete and total asshole.  But then as my fangs began to grow I began to defend myself against his words and actions, and once when he was all too eager to begin our honeymoon relations, I stopped him and gave him two condoms.  He asked what they were for and I told him that he’d probably been out sleeping with his wife’s friends or her co-workers and God knew where they had been, I told him he probably was still shitting where he ate and I didn’t want him to get me sick.  He stood there, naked in my bedroom and looked at me in shock and bewilderment.  He asked “are you serious?” and I said “yes, no double condom no nooky, that’s the rule.  I mean I’m not the one that goes out to the Brew (his favorite bar) to pick up women so desperate you’ll fuck them in your car, so put those suckers on if you want to get laid.”

This ignited a huge fight, whereas he’d argue his side and then I’d sucker punch him with my logic and I’d tell him what’s good for the goose is good for the gander.  I told him if anyone was going to get him sick it would be one of his wife’s friends and not me, because as previously mentioned, he liked to shit where he ate (remember Moonstruck?).  One of the three friends I had that knew he was married told me one day that I allowed him back in on his terms because this is what worked for me.  She also explained to me that Lestat he wasn’t someone I’d normally be into if I wasn’t in love with him.  She said I didn’t seem him for who or what he was because I would see him through rose colored, love clouded glasses.  I stopped to think about what she had said and tried to figure out if this theory of hers had any merit.  I began some deep inner soul searching and this started with our first encounter when we got together, which consisted of lunch and sex.  I spent the afternoon with him and after a three and a half hours I began to feel that indeed a couple of hours together with this emotional vampire was all I could take.

He began to get on my nerves in insufferable ways, case in point, after years of construction and not using the proper safety equipment his hearing began to deteriorate.  I had to speak louder than usual almost screaming.  I could never whisper anything to him because he couldn’t fucking hear me. When we watched television the volume was so loud one time my neighbor out back called me and asked if I was having a party.   He also had the annoying habit of never and I do mean NEVER letting me finish was I was saying because he’d interrupt, always.  His excuse was because he didn’t want to forget what he was going to say and it pertained to what I was talking about. Did I mention his memory was also fading, for some reason he would tell me he was afraid of getting Parkinson’s disease, I would reassure him that it wasn’t the case, but now I’m not so sure.  But he believed interrupting me would help in telling me what his mind was thinking at that very second so he wouldn’t forget, it did not that shit got old fast.

My patience was coming to an end, I could see it and feel it and so could he.  We’d talk on the phone and he would ask me to hold on to answer the other call (which I suspect would be his wife most of the time) and he would take forever.  And at times he would hang up on me and stupidly I’d call back and he’d apologize.  But then as our relationship began to see its inevitable demise he’d hang up on me and I wouldn’t call back, or if he’d ask if I could hang on I’d say no, to call me back whenever.  Now this worked, God knows why, but I suppose was reverse psychology and I began to feel a sort of disconnect to him and our relationship, which only meant one thing.  I was falling out of love with Lestat the Emotional sucking Vampire.   Stay tuned for part 20…….


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…….