B is a tooter. Always has been.
Letting them rip and fly, I am constantly trying to teach her "little girl" etiquette. She is almost 5, so time is running out for them being "cute" and "funny".
And she does them ALL the time. The kid is a walking solution to the oil crisis with all of her gas.
I pick her up and carry her to the bath, she farts on my hand.
"Excuse me"
On my lap at the movies, she farts on my leg.
"Excuse me"
Playing Legos. She lets a few fly.
"Excuse me"
Reading books. She toots.
"Excuse me"
In the bath. I see bubbles.
"Excuse me"
I am mentally patting myself on the back for having such a polite child.
Until today...when I sneezed.
B: Bless you mommy
Me: Thanks B
B: And...
Me: You're Welcome??
B: No, it's "Excuse me"
You were loud just like my farts. You have to announce them so people can laugh.
Clearly I am doing something wrong....
Friday, July 23, 2010
Monday, July 19, 2010
Unsolicited Mondays-Baby Magic
So, because I usually hate Mondays, I will *try* and have my Unsolicited Product Raves be a weekly event...on Mondays :-)
And there are many reasons for me to hate Mondays.
When I am employed and it's summer, it means that I have to leave my air conditioned house at 8 am and go to work. It means the hubby gets to stay home and play with B while they decide what to do. I like working more than most humans do, but during the summer, my non-morning personality comes roaring out and I want to lay around with B, go to the beach at noon, and figure out the rest as I go along.
When I am not employed, Mondays are that kick in the balls reminder that people have places to go and jobs to complain about. The phone rings and solicitors are shocked that someone is actually home to answer the phone at the Martini household. I answer it usually just to get my aggression out on someone. Sorry Telemarketer... I feel your pain...but calling me at 8:30 am is gonna get you a verbal bitch slap.
Any-hoodle.
This one is in honor of my flip-flopping in regards to procreation. So here is my rave....
MMMMMMMM....Baby Magic.
I swear this delicious lotion causes ovulation with just one whiff. It embodies all the delicious smells and yummy smoothness you expect with little babies and toddlers (hell, my kid is almost five and it's still the perfect smell)
This product was purchased ON SALE on a whim and is always cheaper than the Johnson and Johnson lotion we used in the past (which smells good, but not HALF as good as what Baby Magic is)
So this is my unsolicited product rave...I'll have one next week for you and dammit it will be good...because I say so.
**And the reason I wrote this is because I just read B a book this am and was almost intoxicated by the smell. I felt compelled to share.
FYI--My uterus is STILL closed for renovations.
Friday, July 16, 2010
My name is Humpty
Well not really. My name is NOT Humpty...and I just barely do the humpty dance these days ;-)
But the inspiration is this:
"...So just let me introduce myself
My name is Humpty, pronounced with a Umpty.
Yo ladies, oh how I like to hump thee.
And all the rappers in the top ten--please allow me to bump thee"
So, with that inappropriate lyric that only "sort of" related to what I mean, I am re-introducing myself to this blog. And by day's end I will have taken "Blogging For Dummies" out from the library so I can actually do this correctly instead of popping on and writing some musings from time to time.
OK. So re-introductions.
I am a 32 year old, married, recently returned to brown haired roots, and I live on Long Island. I have 5 dysfunctional siblings and a Father who is a hybrid of Archie Bunker and an old school Italian Grandma with a mix of oxymoron tendencies thrown in. He is a retired cop who grew up in the Gotti neighborhood and lives and breathes the politically incorrect life...But the best man at his second wedding was black and my husband is half Colombian (to which he could care less about and never did)
Also, I have a husband who not only puts up with me (and me is enough) and my crazy family, but he also has an equally crazy Colombian family.
And I just googled whether you are Colombian or Columbian, because I have no idea.
Then there is B, my almost 5 year old. She is a mutt of Irish, Italian, Columbia, Austrian, and English descent. I must admit that I am pleased that she will be able to perhaps get some perks of being Hispanic when it comes to college scholarships.
Most people say she is my clone, and I secretly love that. I also cringe because being my clone means that I am watching my personality traits in action and yikes was I annoying, stubborn, bratty, and sometimes unbearable. I only hope that I can somehow get through to her that acting the way she does sometimes will not earn her friends.
As for me specifically:
--I am blunt and brash and say whatever is on my mind.
--I am the product of a crappy mother who I have no relationship and an absent father who earned his second strike with wifey #2 because she wound up being a skanky stepmother and added to my already mounting issues of childhood angst and mother figure issues.
--I am now close with aforementioned father who learned his lessons with my half sisters and now has no memories of the actions in his past with me.
--I am also my Dad's personality clone, which as a woman does not come off as endearing.
--I am aware of most, if not all of my flaws. It doesn't keep me from making mistakes because of them, but I have learned to perhaps tone it down a bit with age an experience.
--I am, most days, a Full Time Working Mom which is either maligned or applauded depending on who you ask and when.
--I love being a mom, but I am honest enough to say that it has not made me like kids.
The whole point of who I am is summed up in what someone once told me..."You say what everyone is probably thinking but no one has the balls to say"
You aren't going to like what I have to say all the time, but I am living my life one step at a time and I know that there are a LOT of women (and men) out there who are just like me...forever chasing their dream. The dream changes all of the time, and sometimes the dream feels so difficult overall.
So here I am...again. Let's do the Humpty Dance, do the dance, humpty hump...
To have or not to have...and when...and HOW?
A second child of course.
The decision is a lot freakin' harder that it looks. I mean, the first time when we decided that we "might" start trying for #1 (shortly after I caught major baby fever) it was deciding if we were ready for that very gray life-changing decision--honestly, you NEVER are. Before we could rationally think about it, the two lines showed up on the twelve pregnancy tests I took and B entered the world. Talk about no turning back.
Thank God we like her.
And it is HARD as hell to have a child and be a parent. I love every second, but it took a solid two years to feel normal again...
and to sleep normal again (even though I don't and have taken drugs pretty much every night since her birth--not because of her, but because my anxiety that used to manifest itself in my 10-14 hour sleep cycles have now invaded my 7 hour sleep cycle and that just won't do, at least not with Mr. Ambien around)
Now, as B is all of her little daycare/preschool friends are started to receive siblings at an alarming rate (4 moms pregnant, one newborn...and they are my FT working mom brethren!) Not to mention that ALL of the hubby's friends are procreating like rabbits
B asked for a brother the other night named Charlie!
And when we zinged back with a "What if you have a little sister?" as a deflection, she responded with an equally fast "She can be Charlie too!" Thank God for ADD as she was easily distracted by the colorful and life-saving game, Candyland!
But my schizophrenia was in full affect long after our nightly group hug goodnight. I want another child, the DH wants another child. But when? And how the hell would I juggle all of it in the industry I am in, with the hours I work, and having the commute I have?
Plus, we are such a comfortable trio now. On Saturday, as I laid in bed, B watched her DVD "Ariel's Beginning", and DH was on the couch. Three different rooms for the length of the movie...and then we all came together to eat, play, and share some very cute moments (I won Candyland and then proceeded to lose again horribly) It was incredible. Would a fourth, unpredictable entity completely throw off everything and drive me criminally insane (it has to be criminal because I believe that I am already certifiable at this very moment)
Plus, now we KNOW what having a child truly means. I have turned into THAT person that warns first time mothers-to-be. "Get your sleep now" is a favorite that I hated hearing and now say the most...such a hypocrite am I. But the knowledge makes it much harder to jump in and say "Let's make a baby" and give up all the freedoms we just started getting back.
Seriously...I am in no rush to be pregnant again, to sleep 30 minutes a night, and adjust to the guessing game of "What kind of crying that?"
B now flat out says, "I am hungry" "I am thirsty" "I am tired" "I have to do pee-pee"
Much easier!
I am having the second baby debate...sometimes it's with the DH, but a lot of times it's an inner turmoil I have. But, it's happening...
But the inspiration is this:
"...So just let me introduce myself
My name is Humpty, pronounced with a Umpty.
Yo ladies, oh how I like to hump thee.
And all the rappers in the top ten--please allow me to bump thee"
So, with that inappropriate lyric that only "sort of" related to what I mean, I am re-introducing myself to this blog. And by day's end I will have taken "Blogging For Dummies" out from the library so I can actually do this correctly instead of popping on and writing some musings from time to time.
OK. So re-introductions.
I am a 32 year old, married, recently returned to brown haired roots, and I live on Long Island. I have 5 dysfunctional siblings and a Father who is a hybrid of Archie Bunker and an old school Italian Grandma with a mix of oxymoron tendencies thrown in. He is a retired cop who grew up in the Gotti neighborhood and lives and breathes the politically incorrect life...But the best man at his second wedding was black and my husband is half Colombian (to which he could care less about and never did)
Also, I have a husband who not only puts up with me (and me is enough) and my crazy family, but he also has an equally crazy Colombian family.
And I just googled whether you are Colombian or Columbian, because I have no idea.
Then there is B, my almost 5 year old. She is a mutt of Irish, Italian, Columbia, Austrian, and English descent. I must admit that I am pleased that she will be able to perhaps get some perks of being Hispanic when it comes to college scholarships.
Most people say she is my clone, and I secretly love that. I also cringe because being my clone means that I am watching my personality traits in action and yikes was I annoying, stubborn, bratty, and sometimes unbearable. I only hope that I can somehow get through to her that acting the way she does sometimes will not earn her friends.
As for me specifically:
--I am blunt and brash and say whatever is on my mind.
--I am the product of a crappy mother who I have no relationship and an absent father who earned his second strike with wifey #2 because she wound up being a skanky stepmother and added to my already mounting issues of childhood angst and mother figure issues.
--I am now close with aforementioned father who learned his lessons with my half sisters and now has no memories of the actions in his past with me.
--I am also my Dad's personality clone, which as a woman does not come off as endearing.
--I am aware of most, if not all of my flaws. It doesn't keep me from making mistakes because of them, but I have learned to perhaps tone it down a bit with age an experience.
--I am, most days, a Full Time Working Mom which is either maligned or applauded depending on who you ask and when.
--I love being a mom, but I am honest enough to say that it has not made me like kids.
The whole point of who I am is summed up in what someone once told me..."You say what everyone is probably thinking but no one has the balls to say"
You aren't going to like what I have to say all the time, but I am living my life one step at a time and I know that there are a LOT of women (and men) out there who are just like me...forever chasing their dream. The dream changes all of the time, and sometimes the dream feels so difficult overall.
So here I am...again. Let's do the Humpty Dance, do the dance, humpty hump...
To have or not to have...and when...and HOW?
A second child of course.
The decision is a lot freakin' harder that it looks. I mean, the first time when we decided that we "might" start trying for #1 (shortly after I caught major baby fever) it was deciding if we were ready for that very gray life-changing decision--honestly, you NEVER are. Before we could rationally think about it, the two lines showed up on the twelve pregnancy tests I took and B entered the world. Talk about no turning back.
Thank God we like her.
And it is HARD as hell to have a child and be a parent. I love every second, but it took a solid two years to feel normal again...
and to sleep normal again (even though I don't and have taken drugs pretty much every night since her birth--not because of her, but because my anxiety that used to manifest itself in my 10-14 hour sleep cycles have now invaded my 7 hour sleep cycle and that just won't do, at least not with Mr. Ambien around)
Now, as B is all of her little daycare/preschool friends are started to receive siblings at an alarming rate (4 moms pregnant, one newborn...and they are my FT working mom brethren!) Not to mention that ALL of the hubby's friends are procreating like rabbits
B asked for a brother the other night named Charlie!
And when we zinged back with a "What if you have a little sister?" as a deflection, she responded with an equally fast "She can be Charlie too!" Thank God for ADD as she was easily distracted by the colorful and life-saving game, Candyland!
But my schizophrenia was in full affect long after our nightly group hug goodnight. I want another child, the DH wants another child. But when? And how the hell would I juggle all of it in the industry I am in, with the hours I work, and having the commute I have?
Plus, we are such a comfortable trio now. On Saturday, as I laid in bed, B watched her DVD "Ariel's Beginning", and DH was on the couch. Three different rooms for the length of the movie...and then we all came together to eat, play, and share some very cute moments (I won Candyland and then proceeded to lose again horribly) It was incredible. Would a fourth, unpredictable entity completely throw off everything and drive me criminally insane (it has to be criminal because I believe that I am already certifiable at this very moment)
Plus, now we KNOW what having a child truly means. I have turned into THAT person that warns first time mothers-to-be. "Get your sleep now" is a favorite that I hated hearing and now say the most...such a hypocrite am I. But the knowledge makes it much harder to jump in and say "Let's make a baby" and give up all the freedoms we just started getting back.
Seriously...I am in no rush to be pregnant again, to sleep 30 minutes a night, and adjust to the guessing game of "What kind of crying that?"
B now flat out says, "I am hungry" "I am thirsty" "I am tired" "I have to do pee-pee"
Much easier!
I am having the second baby debate...sometimes it's with the DH, but a lot of times it's an inner turmoil I have. But, it's happening...
Thursday, July 15, 2010
So I am a 32 year old woman who has blog issues. I love to write. I have journals from when I was a youngster. I just can't get into that "groove".
Many starts and stops over the years. But I am giving this the good old college try.
Even though it's been 11 years since college and I just made myself feel incredibly old.
So the whole point of this new blog attempt on my part is the fact that I feel like Facebook taunts me every day with a "what are you doing?" type of headline.
And of COURSE it lets all the world know when you last updated it.
Right now, I know that an old HS acquaintance is tired in France (boo-freakin-hoo), that a guy I went to college is "moaning" about all the retouching he is doing and how "hard" it is to work so much (self-promoting like that makes me nauseous...I never liked him!). Plus, my mid-life crazy sister had like THE best time at Jack Johnson last night. Dude, you are 37 years old....GROW UP!
And then I think what am I?
Every time I sign on I think that. Half the time I make an alcohol related comment. I mean, you just have to see my blog's name to get that I like my apple martini's.
So I write things like:
"Looking forward to a nice glass of pinot"
"Really need a martini"
"Did anyone get the license plate of the bus that hit me?"
Keep it fresh and light right?
Because, why would I want to say I am;
"annoyed that I got my period today, but THRILLED that I am not pregnant. "
"still hungover from my Ambien from last night"
"maybe if I just keep showing up to work, they will keep paying me"
So here I am, laying those things bare...here on Momma Martini.
Today I am feeling like Desperately Seeking Susan because I am looking for an amazing job while I work at this place that feels like a sinking ship...but pays a boatload of cash. My original out date was October. Now, they don't even pretend to give me a date. I just keep showing up and they just keep paying me. I work my ass off when needed, but the past few weeks have been S-L-O-W. Plus, this company is FULL of the "I hate my job" people. They are nasty little fuckers that are constantly complaining and undermining each other.
And the thing is, I LOVE my career. I love the stress, the travel, and the overall craziness of the entertainment world. I love working 18 hour days. I love being part of the creative process.
In regards to STAFF jobs I have had potentials, but having recently suffered the disappointment of blowing an interview, the ego is a smidge raw. The position wasn't right for me. But I would have had a sweet fucking deal if I landed it.
I am overeager with an impressive resume (not trying to be snobby, but my stuff is good) in an industry that really only hires through "who you know". I suck at interviewing, I know I do...and I just want people to see what I know I can do for their company. When I do get hired, they keep me. But you can't just go in, shake hands and say "Trust me. I am going to kick ass, take names, and you will have NO idea how you existed without me." At least, I don't feel like I can.
So that is my frame of mind right now...how can you sum THAT up in 140 characters or less?
"I need a glass of wine"
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
My Day....
Here's a snapshot of my day....for me, the "day" starts at midnight.
12 am--
Hubby enters bedroom going on and on about the "gorgeous" breeze outside.
"Do we really need the A/C tonight?"
My reply is a grunt.
I am in my ambien-induced haze and he is pissing me off. He takes this as approval and opens the two windows letting in the humidity soaked "breeze".
I pass out.
2 am--
I wake with my tank top stuck to me. Hubby is sprawled OVER the sheets in his boxers (which is how he sleeps 365 days a year) and I think to myself, HOW IS THIS COMFORTABLE?
I stumble to the bathroom and back, close the windows, and crank the A/C.
4 am--
I snuggle underneath my comforter. MUCH BETTER.
Why the fuck am I awake at 4 am whilst under the influence of drugs?
7 am--
B is not awake yet? How strange. I hope she sleeps until 8 am.
7:33 am--
B comes into our bedroom and I feel her take one pitiful look at me before heading over to the hubby.
Damn right, while he is out of work I am NOT getting up right now.
I am sleeping until 8:30, or the longest I can possibly lay in bed while making the 9:10 train to the city.
8:15 am--
"Mommy, can you do my hair for picture day?"
I reply with a grunt, which is actually a yes this time around.
Although, Hubby IS thisclose to vagina status when it comes to religiously brushing B's hair. Very OCD, crazy, Joan Crawford stuff if you ask me.
8:25 am--
I am brushing B's beautiful brown hair and putting it into a side ponytail at her request (which in my opinion is getting old). I am too lazy to talk her into pigtails...and I still need to get in the shower.
I will spare you the next few hours of showering, rushing for the train, getting swampass on the subway, drinking Starbucks at my desk.
I WILL tell you that at around 10:45 am, my gay work husband informed me that the douchebag staff guy is either getting the ax or leaving the company.
What does this mean, you ask?
It means that my shot at being staff on this sinking ship may actually happen. So as I send out resumes every day, I hope that I won't have to start anywhere new unless it's fabulous. Now wouldn't THAT be just lovely. Not worrying about my job for awhile
12:10 pm--
Coworker/lady who's ass I have to kiss/chick I like very much comes into my office and goes ON and ON about her explosive diarrhea from the night before.
I must hide horror and nausea pretty well, because I get the whole story.
I am really glad that you didn't crap your pants on the way home, but I REALLY don't want to analyze your last couple of meals to "pinpoint" the cause.
Let's just say, shellfish is off my menu for awhile.
12:30 pm--
Text from my mid-life crisis sister about concert on Friday pops up on my b-berry.
She annoys me.
Isn't it nice when you have a sister with so much jealousy that she deliberately books your tickets for the night 4 people are going and then also gets herself tickets for the next night when the entire town is going?
Then, she lovingly proceeds to publicly plan the tailgating on Facebook (3 large buses, entertainment, drinks, and food) while telling me and my cousin that she just isn't sure how we are getting there on Friday.
Sorry that your lil sis has what you want....see you Friday!
12:40 pm--
Cousin calls and downloads me about mid-life's texts to her AND her date last night. She is not having the whole dating scene post-divorce. But hell, she didn't date before she married the blockhead that broke her heart. I listen. She needs to get out more.
12:50 pm--
Hubby calls me (for the fourth time) from Home Depot. He is FINALLY going to paint the moldings.
You know, because he has been SO busy.
He tries to play the color-blind card but I call him on that shit QUICK.
It's WHITE paint.
Figure it out!
And no, I am not googling which type to get.
Go ask one of those lovely people with an Orange Apron...it's WHAT THEY GET PAID FOR!
1:00 pm--
I start this blog.
1:03 pm--
Gay Work Husband comes in and asks me to go to Home Depot with him.
I swear him and hubby are in cahoots.
I cannot make this shit up.
I stall him until tomorrow.
I mean, I have to go to Borders and buy all the Vampire Diaries. I just watched 22 episodes in four days, so now I need something else.
1:25 pm
Working diligently on the blog.
1:55 pm
I am hungry.
The Diarrhea chat is finally fading (well, not so much)
Time to go debate lunch choices with Gay Work Husband.
How is it only 2 pm????
12 am--
Hubby enters bedroom going on and on about the "gorgeous" breeze outside.
"Do we really need the A/C tonight?"
My reply is a grunt.
I am in my ambien-induced haze and he is pissing me off. He takes this as approval and opens the two windows letting in the humidity soaked "breeze".
I pass out.
2 am--
I wake with my tank top stuck to me. Hubby is sprawled OVER the sheets in his boxers (which is how he sleeps 365 days a year) and I think to myself, HOW IS THIS COMFORTABLE?
I stumble to the bathroom and back, close the windows, and crank the A/C.
4 am--
I snuggle underneath my comforter. MUCH BETTER.
Why the fuck am I awake at 4 am whilst under the influence of drugs?
7 am--
B is not awake yet? How strange. I hope she sleeps until 8 am.
7:33 am--
B comes into our bedroom and I feel her take one pitiful look at me before heading over to the hubby.
Damn right, while he is out of work I am NOT getting up right now.
I am sleeping until 8:30, or the longest I can possibly lay in bed while making the 9:10 train to the city.
8:15 am--
"Mommy, can you do my hair for picture day?"
I reply with a grunt, which is actually a yes this time around.
Although, Hubby IS thisclose to vagina status when it comes to religiously brushing B's hair. Very OCD, crazy, Joan Crawford stuff if you ask me.
8:25 am--
I am brushing B's beautiful brown hair and putting it into a side ponytail at her request (which in my opinion is getting old). I am too lazy to talk her into pigtails...and I still need to get in the shower.
I will spare you the next few hours of showering, rushing for the train, getting swampass on the subway, drinking Starbucks at my desk.
I WILL tell you that at around 10:45 am, my gay work husband informed me that the douchebag staff guy is either getting the ax or leaving the company.
What does this mean, you ask?
It means that my shot at being staff on this sinking ship may actually happen. So as I send out resumes every day, I hope that I won't have to start anywhere new unless it's fabulous. Now wouldn't THAT be just lovely. Not worrying about my job for awhile
12:10 pm--
Coworker/lady who's ass I have to kiss/chick I like very much comes into my office and goes ON and ON about her explosive diarrhea from the night before.
I must hide horror and nausea pretty well, because I get the whole story.
I am really glad that you didn't crap your pants on the way home, but I REALLY don't want to analyze your last couple of meals to "pinpoint" the cause.
Let's just say, shellfish is off my menu for awhile.
12:30 pm--
Text from my mid-life crisis sister about concert on Friday pops up on my b-berry.
She annoys me.
Isn't it nice when you have a sister with so much jealousy that she deliberately books your tickets for the night 4 people are going and then also gets herself tickets for the next night when the entire town is going?
Then, she lovingly proceeds to publicly plan the tailgating on Facebook (3 large buses, entertainment, drinks, and food) while telling me and my cousin that she just isn't sure how we are getting there on Friday.
Sorry that your lil sis has what you want....see you Friday!
12:40 pm--
Cousin calls and downloads me about mid-life's texts to her AND her date last night. She is not having the whole dating scene post-divorce. But hell, she didn't date before she married the blockhead that broke her heart. I listen. She needs to get out more.
12:50 pm--
Hubby calls me (for the fourth time) from Home Depot. He is FINALLY going to paint the moldings.
You know, because he has been SO busy.
He tries to play the color-blind card but I call him on that shit QUICK.
It's WHITE paint.
Figure it out!
And no, I am not googling which type to get.
Go ask one of those lovely people with an Orange Apron...it's WHAT THEY GET PAID FOR!
1:00 pm--
I start this blog.
1:03 pm--
Gay Work Husband comes in and asks me to go to Home Depot with him.
I swear him and hubby are in cahoots.
I cannot make this shit up.
I stall him until tomorrow.
I mean, I have to go to Borders and buy all the Vampire Diaries. I just watched 22 episodes in four days, so now I need something else.
1:25 pm
Working diligently on the blog.
1:55 pm
I am hungry.
The Diarrhea chat is finally fading (well, not so much)
Time to go debate lunch choices with Gay Work Husband.
How is it only 2 pm????
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Take a shower please....
It was 90 degrees on my way to work today. On the NYC subways it will probably top out at 120-ish on the platforms when I go home.
It's at this time that I would like to urge each and everyone traveling on the E train at/around 6 pm tonight to please, please, please, please shower or re-up your deodorant situation BEFORE you get on a crowded train.
FOR THE LOVE OF GOD...it's the right thing to do.
I mean, the natural scent of a New Yorker in this heat is just not good. If you see someone scrunch their nose in your general area...please ASSUME that you smell. Assume that you need to do something about it immediately. Assume that you, part of 8 million strong, are letting down your people by smelling bad.
FOR THE LOVE OF GOD...take a shower please.
It's at this time that I would like to urge each and everyone traveling on the E train at/around 6 pm tonight to please, please, please, please shower or re-up your deodorant situation BEFORE you get on a crowded train.
FOR THE LOVE OF GOD...it's the right thing to do.
I mean, the natural scent of a New Yorker in this heat is just not good. If you see someone scrunch their nose in your general area...please ASSUME that you smell. Assume that you need to do something about it immediately. Assume that you, part of 8 million strong, are letting down your people by smelling bad.
FOR THE LOVE OF GOD...take a shower please.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
My Plan B Got Married
Yes, I myself am married. For almost 8 years. Mostly happy, sometimes miserable. Marriage is fluid...I have NO plans to cheat on my hubby.
But I have always had a plan B (I also have a C...maybe a D)
Plan B was the adorable sweetheart that would do anything for me and told me he would be the first one to call me when I divorced my. Not a nice thing to say, but man it felt good on my ego. Plan B is so genuine and sweet...such the "nice guy", that it was OK for him to say not so nice things.
Why am I not with this cutie? Why did I not date the shit out of him, get a big diamond ring, and marry his successful ass like I could have? Who the fuck knows. Truly.
I tried to be sexually attracted to him, and dammit if he wasn't a head turner in the looks department. He was gentle and tender and sweet and caring...all the crap that women look for. I just couldn't feel it at the time.
Maybe it was timing.
I was 20, he was 22 and making a huge move to a different state. His friends put a lot of pressure on me to make a quick decision on how serious I was willing to get because he was also the type of guy that would have stayed if I gave him reason to.
I let him go.
I started dating the hubby and he dated around himself for a few years. I would see him once in a while with that dazzling smile and my heart still skipped a beat.
I got married. He had a broken engagement. I had a kid. His Dad passed away.
A few years back I ran into him on Thanksgiving Eve and he had the full court press on me.
Telling me how he adored me and loved me and teased me about getting a divorce. It unsettled and excited me.
My Dad had a stroke the day after Thanksgiving and we exchanged emails regarding that, but nothing crazy. He acknowledged what he said that night but never pressed it.
Then Facebook got huge and we stayed in touch that way. He met a nice midwestern girl, moved up to Chicago, and got engaged quickly. Last year I was out watching baseball playoffs and a strange text pops up on my phone...familiar area code. It was Plan B and he was out with a mutual friend. Next thing I know he is standing next to me telling me the same things.
You're gorgeous, let's run away together....everything I didn't need to hear with my marriage in crisis as it was.
I had been planning a Greece trip scheduled for this week (which I never got around to booking)...he told me he wanted to come with me. And even though he was only half-serious because well, he had set the date for his wedding to be just days before my scheduled departure...it was crazy to see his eyes held a little hope that I would maybe say yes...in his imagination I said yes. Because it could only ever be imagination...right?
I was stunned at his boldness. Taken aback because he was engaged. But still egotistically satisfying to hear I had options. And I truly do heart him in some way.
Well, he got married this weekend as planned.
The pics are on Facebook.
I look at him and his adorable face and I wonder selfishly...could that have been me?
I wondered if I crossed his mind during this whole process.
What an asshole I am.
To even think that.
To even entertain that.
But that is human nature I guess. Complicated, selfish, mean, hopeful.
And I may never know and I certainly don't have the balls to ask....I will wonder why he chose Greece as his honeymoon destination.
But I have always had a plan B (I also have a C...maybe a D)
Plan B was the adorable sweetheart that would do anything for me and told me he would be the first one to call me when I divorced my. Not a nice thing to say, but man it felt good on my ego. Plan B is so genuine and sweet...such the "nice guy", that it was OK for him to say not so nice things.
Why am I not with this cutie? Why did I not date the shit out of him, get a big diamond ring, and marry his successful ass like I could have? Who the fuck knows. Truly.
I tried to be sexually attracted to him, and dammit if he wasn't a head turner in the looks department. He was gentle and tender and sweet and caring...all the crap that women look for. I just couldn't feel it at the time.
Maybe it was timing.
I was 20, he was 22 and making a huge move to a different state. His friends put a lot of pressure on me to make a quick decision on how serious I was willing to get because he was also the type of guy that would have stayed if I gave him reason to.
I let him go.
I started dating the hubby and he dated around himself for a few years. I would see him once in a while with that dazzling smile and my heart still skipped a beat.
I got married. He had a broken engagement. I had a kid. His Dad passed away.
A few years back I ran into him on Thanksgiving Eve and he had the full court press on me.
Telling me how he adored me and loved me and teased me about getting a divorce. It unsettled and excited me.
My Dad had a stroke the day after Thanksgiving and we exchanged emails regarding that, but nothing crazy. He acknowledged what he said that night but never pressed it.
Then Facebook got huge and we stayed in touch that way. He met a nice midwestern girl, moved up to Chicago, and got engaged quickly. Last year I was out watching baseball playoffs and a strange text pops up on my phone...familiar area code. It was Plan B and he was out with a mutual friend. Next thing I know he is standing next to me telling me the same things.
You're gorgeous, let's run away together....everything I didn't need to hear with my marriage in crisis as it was.
I had been planning a Greece trip scheduled for this week (which I never got around to booking)...he told me he wanted to come with me. And even though he was only half-serious because well, he had set the date for his wedding to be just days before my scheduled departure...it was crazy to see his eyes held a little hope that I would maybe say yes...in his imagination I said yes. Because it could only ever be imagination...right?
I was stunned at his boldness. Taken aback because he was engaged. But still egotistically satisfying to hear I had options. And I truly do heart him in some way.
Well, he got married this weekend as planned.
The pics are on Facebook.
I look at him and his adorable face and I wonder selfishly...could that have been me?
I wondered if I crossed his mind during this whole process.
What an asshole I am.
To even think that.
To even entertain that.
But that is human nature I guess. Complicated, selfish, mean, hopeful.
And I may never know and I certainly don't have the balls to ask....I will wonder why he chose Greece as his honeymoon destination.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)