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