Weddings. They suck the life out of you.

I know I said that I promised this would not turn into a wedding-only blog, but the frustration is already starting to set in, and it’s only been four weeks.

Four weeks, people.  That’s a problem.

The good thing is, it has nothing to do with B.  Or with me.  Or with us as a couple.  We’re still busy basking in the glow of being engaged, calling each other “fiance” every 2.5 seconds, and snuggling to our hearts content while discussing color options and locations and cake flavors, etc.  It’s everyone else around us that sucks.

For one:  our families.  Granted, I’m without parents, so we’re already starting off behind everyone else.  Without the bride’s parents to foot most of the bill, we’re already thinking of ways to scrimp and save and get it done.  However, B’s father is still alive, and he has not even discussed giving us any money.  I’d pretty much decided to look at it as “well, what did you expect?!” and chalk it up to us doing this on our own so that we wouldn’t end up disappointed, but it does bother me that he pays several of his other children’s expenses and has never extended a helping hand to B.  It’s been like this for all of B’s life.  It’s unfair, and it hurts him, which in turn hurts me.

For two:  bridal party members and those that aspire to be.  Really, I feel honored that a lot of people wanted to be featured in the bridal party, but not everyone can be included.  One of my girlfriends actually STOPPED SPEAKING TO ME JUST BECAUSE I DIDN’T ASK HER TO BE A BRIDESMAID.  I’m just gonna give you a second to absorb that little enjoyable fact.

…

Back to the whole Maid of Honor dilemma:  I’d been toying with the idea of having two, so that I could have my closest friend, and my childhood best friend both included and feeling important.  Well, to make a long story short, before I could get around to making a final decision (as well as deciding on how to best delicately break the news either way), my best friend spilled the beans to the other friend.  It was awkward to say the least, and my childhood best friend ended up telling me how hurt and disappointed she was, etc.  That’s when I told her about how I’d been thinking of having two, but just hadn’t decided exactly how to do it.  She seemed to lighten up, so that’s what we decided on.  I spilled it to the original MOH who was gracious and understanding.  Have you ever heard the argument “If it makes someone else feel better, and it doesn’t hurt anyone in the process, then what harm can be caused?”  Yeah, that’s what I used to make this decision.  Spare the feelings of one to spare my own, in a way.  Only now, the second MOH is behaving in a way that justifies my original intentions.  Let me explain:

On the day that we were to go check out bridal gowns and bridesmaids gowns, I told everyone a time to meet.  She was 35 minutes late.  She’s always late.  This is turn made us late for meeting the other girls.  It started the day off slowly, and we had a lot of ground to cover.  We ended up making it work somehow, but I was very frustrated.  I never get to see her, because she’s so busy following her boyfriend around and doing everything he wants to do, that she never has time for anything else.  And a more recent example:  She had asked me what we were doing for the 4th of July, so I told her (friends, lake, cooking out, fireworks) and she seemed like she wanted an invitation.  So I extended one.  Only she bailed and didn’t show up because her boyfriend didn’t want to.  She didn’t tell me she wasn’t coming until after 4 pm.  After I’d bought extra food.  How in the hell is this going to work out when, as it gets closer and closer to the wedding, we need to spend our weekends taking care of things?  My other MOH?  She’s the one keeping ME in line.  She’s discussed timelines, finances, menu options, as well as ways to save money.  And another girlfriend, who is not even in the bridal party, has offered to be my unofficial wedding planner!  I guess I’m lucky in the fact that some friends are really stepping up to the plate to help, when I’m without a mother to help me.  But it’s the other friends, the ones who feel entitled, who disappoint me with their general lack of consideration that I can focus on, and nothing else.  Ugh…just thinking about all of this hurts my feelings, and quite truthfully, offends me.  I’m going to sound like a total bitch here, but right now, I’m thinking “how did you think you’d beat out my other girlfriend to be the MOH when I never see you, you never have time to hang out, and you’re always so stuck up your boyfriends ass that we go months — MONTHS — without seeing each other, despite my invitations and attempts to see you?!” (Also, I get the distinct impression she’s upset about the fact that B has decided not to have her boyfriend as a groomsman– despite the fact that they never talk anymore, and B doesn’t trust him.  See…again with the everyone wanting to be included!)

**deep breath**

Then…then there’s the girlfriend of B’s likely Best Man.  I saw the couple this weekend at a friend’s house.  Over wine, she asked me who B was having in his bridal party.  I told her that it wasn’t all worked out yet because it’s a big decision, and B HATES big decisions.  She not-so-slyly asked me “Is he thinking about having [her boyfriend] as his best man?” 

“It’s possible.” (Yes.)

“Well, I really hope he doesn’t ask him to be his Best Man.  I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“What?  Why?” (WTF?!?!)

“Well, they’ve only been friends for just over a year.  And I don’t think [her boyfriend] wants to be in that much of a responsibility role…  Plus he doesn’t want to come in between B and his other friends.”

“Well, I can’t speak for B.  It’s his decision to make, and I’m not going to tell him to not ask him to be his Best Man.  If he wants to ask him, then he can.  Frankly, it’s an honor, but if he chooses not to do it for whatever reason, I’m sure B will understand.”

Later on, I was standing in the kitchen, pouring myself yet another glass of wine, and thinking quite intently.  It this some sort of coup?  Is she trying to make me go to B and tell him to change his mind?  Why wouldn’t he want to do this for B?  They’re good friends, they trust each other, and…and…wait a second.  Is this about her not being a bridesmaid?  But wait, she once told me she HATED being a bridesmaid and never wanted to do it again!  I don’t get it…she’d still be invited to the shower, the bachelorette party, the rehearsal dinner, the wedding, the reception, etc.  Didn’t she once scowl when I explained to her that yes, if he did end up being the Best Man, he would indeed have to walk down the aisle with my best friend, upon the end of the ceremony?  Didn’t I tell her once that it’s no big deal, it’s “ten seconds in a lifetime” and “plus you love [MOH]” and “it’s only ten god damn seconds in a lifetime?!”

Just then, the potential Best Man walked into the kitchen.  Putting aside all pretense and bullshit, I flat-out asked him “Just so we’re clear — I’m not asking you to be the Best Man.  But let’s say for one second that he did in fact ask you to be his Best Man.  How would you respond?  Because I don’t want him to have his feelings hurt if you’re not interested.”

“What?  I’d be honored!  And of course I’d say yes.  We’ve already discussed this in the past, when B first told me he wanted to propose to you.  And I told him to think about it, but that if he was sure of his decision, I’d be more than happy to do it.  I’d be thrilled.”

Someone’s lying to me.

This, my friends, is just some of the reasons that weddings?  THEY CAN BLOW ME.

Is it bad that I’m already on the whole “we should just elope” bandwagon?!

Sometimes

It doesn’t really matter what my mood was like when I woke up this morning.  It doesn’t really matter that I rolled over, turned off the alarm clock, and tried to get out of bed with a smile on my face.  There are just some days that no matter how hard you try, things just aren’t going to go your fucking way.  If there’s one thing I hate, it’s being spoken to in a way that suggests that I am an idiot, an imbecile.  I don’t like being called names, or being insulted with “stop being pathetic.”  Sometimes people are just assholes, no matter how hard you try to keep your cool, calm, collected self from screaming at the top of your lungs.  Sometimes it doesn’t matter what you say — it’s more in how you say it.  When you’re the person on the other end of the line with someone who is having a shitty day, sometimes you’re going to get their negativity dumped on you.  It doesn’t really matter how forgiving you are — words still sting.  They find a way through your protective armor and burrow deep under your skin, where you will remember them for hours to come.  Sometimes it doesn’t matter how much you want to fix things — some problems are just for other people to stew in.  Sometimes you just gotta learn to let go and say “fuck it all.”

The chink in my armor

As a woman, I wear a lot of armor.  Makeup is my armor, against my physical imperfections that I wish for no one to see.  My hair is my armor, something to draw people’s attention to, and away from other things.  Clothing is my armor, covering up bad spots and accentuating good spots.  Hell, even my designer purses and expensive shoes are my armor, projecting a sense of confidence, when underneath, I’m mostly uncertain. 

But there are also less concrete forms of armor.  My words, chosen carefully, can inspire those I love, or hurt those that I hate.  My attitude, friendly but defensive when provoked, is designed to protect myself.  I’ve never shied away from a tough situation, especially when I’m being attacked.  I’ve never been afraid to defend myself when necessary.  But all those little pieces that come together to form full metal armor, the ultimate protection, can fail me when I need it most.

I let it all escape me this weekend.  It fell apart at the seams, publicly and tragically, right when I desperately needed to hold it all together.  I found the chink in my armor, my vulnerable spot that, when pointed out, makes the whole design permanently flawed. 

It doesn’t really matter what I do or say in a situation if the person attacking me knows my weak points.  It renders me unable to defend myself, regardless of the amount of people watching and listening. 

Yesterday, upon getting home from a rough night with some “friends”, I let the armor fall away.  As B gathered our things, exhausted himself from all the animosity, I stayed behind in the car.  He looked at me, searching my face to see if I was okay, but I broke down.  Tears streamed down my face, faster than they have in a long time, and I urged him to go inside.  “I just need a moment by myself,” I explained.  I sat in my car alone, tired and restless and angry, and I just let myself cry.  Here, no one could see me.  I’d held it together longer than I thought I could, but now I just needed to fall apart.  Once I’d gone inside and washed away the remnants of Saturdays makeup, and hoping against hope that it would also wash away the weakness, I moped around the house, unable to shake it off.  I’m still not 100% yet.

You see, a girl that I know of, but don’t necessarily know insulted me to my face while we were at my friend’s house on Saturday night.  Everything was going well.  There were fun people there, everyone knew everyone else.  We were among friends.  It had been a long week for everyone involved, so we let our hair down and decided we’d have some fun.  My girlfriend and I even got brave and took a shot of tequila for the first time in a while.  I felt it rushing into my body, turning the heat on, and with it, bringing back “the old me”, if only for a little while.  I was feeling confident, and I was ready to let loose.  I’d slipped into smaller jeans that day, happy with the fact that I’m succeeding at my goal to lose weight.  Friends that hadn’t seen me in a while commented on how great I’m doing, asking me “how much weight have you lost?”  I smiled, grateful for their kind words, but proud of myself and replied, “25 pounds.  Hard to believe.” 

Then suddenly, the dynamic of the room changed.  A girl came in who most of us know, but aren’t really friends with.  People were confused — is she friends with the girl who is throwing the party, or is she just friends with people that are here?  It didn’t matter, but we were curious.  This girl brought with her an air of self-entitlement.  It was practically as if a black cloud was over her head, following her around wherever she walked, and leaving a wake of total destruction in her path.  But of all of the people that were there, she chose me to start in on.

About 3 hours into the party, after a couple of cocktails and shots, I found myself directly in her path.  I’d avoided her the whole night — you could say it was woman’s intuition telling me to keep my distance.  All of a sudden, from out of nowhere, she was yelling at me, telling me to “shut the fuck up.”  Well, like I said earlier, I don’t usually shy away from the chance to defend myself, so I aptly responded, “what the fuck is YOUR problem?  Where do you get off speaking to anyone, let alone me, that way?”  From there, it was all downhill.  I mostly thought it was funny.  This girl, three years younger than me, who doesn’t know me from the next girl, had decided she was going to start shit with someone.  And don’t you know, I guess I was the lucky one that night.  But then, she went where most girls don’t go.  She went to the place that women avoid, no matter how much you hate someone.  She violated the Rules of Women and insulted my weight.

“I don’t know why you’re so fucking upset….I mean, is it because you’re fucking FAT?”

After that, it was all a blur.  I remember my girlfriend jumping off her perch on the counter and getting directly in her face, taking the opportunity of a surprise attack in defense of me.  I remember people yelling.  I remember people staring at me and her in surprise.  I remember feeling embarrassed and humiliated, yet unwilling to let her get to me.  I remember B standing between me and her, screaming at her to “just go to hell.”  I remember saying things, but I don’t remember what they were exactly.  Mostly I just remember gathering my purse and coat, and walking outside to my car.  I sat in the passenger side, turned the key, switched on the heat, and sat in disbelief.  I picked up my cell phone and dialed a friend who I knew would answer her phone.  I told her the story, stopping only to say, “Seriously, wtf?  How do I get myself in these situations?”  She calmed me down, told me I’d what anyone would expect - I defended myself.  So what if I called her a stupid skank?  It had been earned on her part.

It doesn’t matter what happened after that.  Eventually, the girl left, after being asked and told repeatedly to do just that.  Even when she left, she was still yelling at me, even though she looked like a ridiculous idiot for literally crashing a party, showing up somewhere uninvited and unwanted.  It didn’t matter that I’d been drinking, because after that I stopped.  It didn’t matter that at 4 am, when everyone was going to sleep, that I wasn’t tired.  I laid there next to B, staring at the ceiling, willing myself to “just get over it.”  It didn’t matter that she was practically a stranger.  She’d found the chink in my armor, and she had exploited it.   

 So that’s where I was yesterday, emotionally.  After finally getting home, I let myself fall apart.  I let myself admit that it hurt and embarrassed me.  I felt like an idiot for crying, and I didn’t understand why it had hit me so hard.  But then, my best friend pointed it out. 

“It’s enough to hurt anyone, especially a girl.  But the reason it hurt you so bad is because you’ve worked so hard to get where you are now.  You’ve lost 25 pounds and you look fantastic.  You could have been a size 2 and she still would have called you fat because it’s easy.”

She is right of course.  And even though the girl had pretty much violated the unspoken rule among women, she had exposed my insecurities.  Screw her.  She doesn’t even really know me enough to judge me.  But she was able to find my Achilles Heel.  And I hated her for it.

This weekend was more hurtful than I’d expected.  I’d been expecting to be attacked by B’s sister-in-law, but instead, I was attacked by a girl who I know of, but who doesn’t know me.  But it hurt worse.  It was unexpected.  And my armor failed me right when I needed it most.

Dysfunction at its finest

My sister is having an affair.

She’s been married to my brother-in-law for nearly 17 years.  But they’ve been together for 20.  She first told me about The Other Man in January.  I had suspected something for a while.  Just the way she talked about him was enough to raise eyebrows and suspicions.  Something seemed not right about it.  Like they were more than friends.

She confirmed my thoughts on the day she called me in hysterics, needing information.  She wanted me to check the list of confirmed dead in the War on Terror to see if he’d been killed.  See, he’s in the National Guard and has been stationed in Iraq for the last two years.  Judging by the tone in her voice, coupled with her anxiety and unfounded fear, I was able to determine that there was much more to their “friendship” than she was letting on.  I was able to let her know that no, he was not dead, at least not according to the list that day.  Once he had touched base with her (he’d only been moved to a different part of Iraq and was unable to communicate with anyone for a few days) she calmed down and went back to her normal self.  I let a few days pass before I asked her why she had freaked out so horribly, noting “no one freaks out that badly over someone unless it’s family or someone they love.”  She said nothing.  When I prompted her to spill it, her response was “I can’t answer that question.  It’s too hard.”  That was all I needed to hear.

My brother-in-law has been in my life for as long as I can remember.  He first came around when I was just 3 years old.  He’s more of a brother to me than my own brother is (another story for another day).  He’s been with our family through a lot, and he has never run off.  But now, their marriage is falling apart and my sister is running for the hills.  She’s written it off as a desperate attempt to reclaim her life, stating that she has been unhappy for a long time.  But it’s more than that.  She will be 44 years old next month (Editor’s Note: My parents had me later in life and she is their first born).  I see it as more like a mid-life crisis of sorts.  My sister’s only child, my niece, is a freshman in college and had been gone from home since last summer.  Now that they’ve found themselves alone and without a common goal (ie: their child) they’ve discovered they don’t know what to do with all of their time.

I don’t pretend to understand all the dynamics of their marriage.  It would be a shoddy understanding at best.  But what I do know is that I believe in the marriage vows they took all those years ago, and that I don’t believe in adultery.

I’m firm on that one.

I’ve struggled over the last two months with the knowledge that I possess about the affair.  I feel guilty about it.  I feel guilty because my niece, who I am closest to family-wise does not know about it.  I am scared that it will come out that I knew all along and she will resent me.  But it is not my place to spread the dirt.  I didn’t tell B for the longest time until one day, I blew my top over it and lost control.  I’m angry with my sister for what she’s doing!  I’m angry at how selfish and self-serving she has turned out to be.  Mostly I’m angry because I feel she’s playing both ends to get twice the benefits.

She has been carrying on an emotional affair with The Other Man for God knows how long.  I don’t want to know.  It’s mostly through the phone and emails that this has carried on.  But he comes home from Iraq for good next month, and will retire.  My sister claims that they are going to “go away together” to “discuss plans” and “see where it takes them.”  I urged her to be honest with her husband, to tell him that she intends to leave him.  When she finally did, she was only half-truthful, which only angered me even more.

During one of their many conversations on the state of things in their marriage, my sister finally blurted out “I’ve had enough.  I’m leaving.  I can’t take it anymore.”

“What?  When?  Where will you go?” he asked her.

“I don’t know.  I haven’t figured it out yet,” she explained.

“For how long?  A week?  A month?  A year?”

“I don’t know, but I’m leaving at the end of the summer.”

Upon telling me about this exchange, I erupted, “You have to tell him the TRUTH!  He thinks you’re going on a mental vacation!  You’re leaving him for good.  You owe him the truth.”

He asked her if there was another man.  She lied. 

He asked her if she was coming back.  She said she wasn’t sure, another lie.

And then, the clincher.  He noted that she would need health insurance, and that he would keep her on it while she is off “taking a break.”  She agreed to accept that!

 Pardon me for my own opinions and balls to discuss them, but are you serious?  You’re leaving your husband of 17 years for another man and you will allow him to pay for your health insurance when you know you’re never coming back?!

While discussing this with B last night, totally disgusted, I said “Why the end of summer?  Why doesn’t she just leave him now?”

“Because, she’s not sure where this is going, or even if it’s going anywhere.  She wants to make sure she’s got a way to come back if things don’t work out.”

Yesterday she sent me an email:

“I have a message for you. [The Other Man] wanted me to let you know that if you ever want to talk to him, about his intentions with me, or about anything in general, feel free to ask him.  He’s cute, it’s almost like he’s asking permission.”

I was so angry.  Why would I want to give him permission?  Not only am I not interested, but I think she enjoys all the attention.  I will not give her any more attention on the matter, especially not by emailing The Other Man and making nice.

If I had the balls, I would email him and say:

“I’ve heard a lot about you.  I’ve seen how my sister freaks out when she doesn’t get a call from you.  She freaked out more over that than she did about her husband’s birthday, which is tomorrow, by the way.  If you’re looking for my approval, you’re never going to get it.  What does it say about your character that you’re okay with having an emotional affair with a married woman?  To me it says that you’re no better than any other person guilty of adultery.”

My sister used to work with The Other Man.  They were friends before this all began.  They haven’t seen each other the whole time the emotional affair has been taking place.  But they will see each other next month.  She’s acting like an immature, hormone-crazed teenager.  She keeps moving and deleting MySpace accounts with false information on them.  She leaves little love-sick notes on his MySpace (that’s right, I found it).  She’s not even being careful about it.  People aren’t stupid.  They’ll find out about it.  Hell, I barely had to try at all, before I knew it, I knew all the salacious details.  I don’t think she’s prepared for the fall-out:  how angry her daughter will be at her, what people will say, how friends will turn their backs on her, etc.

Without even trying, she has changed my entire opinion of her.  We used to be close, but I find myself avoiding her phone calls and ignoring her emails.  I’ve already expressed to her that I disapprove — that I will not condone or support her affair.  When she came to visit me last month, all she talked about was him.  Having remembered something my BFF said to me (”Maybe she just likes all the attention.”) I ignored everything that came out of her mouth and refused to pay it any attention or respond to it.  When she finally left that Sunday, I was emotionally drained and totally exhausted from the whole experience.

I just feel bad for my brother-in-law and my niece.  And for myself, for ever having asked her for the truth.

Love is about compromise…right?

Every girl who has ever fallen in love has experienced, at least once, a situation where someone in your beloved’s family despises you.  Loathes you.  Detests you.  Most girls in this predicament have the unfortunate luck of having that someone be His Mother.  For some reason, boys and their moms have a weird relationship that prevents the mom from liking us, no matter how nice, perky, or successful we are.  It’s a crap situation, and I’ve totally Been There, Done That, Bought the T-Shirt. 

But I’m not most girls. 

I’ve been relatively lucky with B’s family.  His mom and I got along great while she was alive.  His father and I have a decent, although sporadic, friendly relationship with each other (I don’t go around much…).  His siblings and I are on great terms.  His nieces and nephews adore me.  But then there’s his sister-in-law.

For the past 9 years, it’s been nothing but catty remarks, attitude, and major hostility between the two of us.  I’ve tried every route to peace imaginable:  I’ve ignored her.  I’ve sucked up to her.  I’ve confronted her.  I’ve been mean back.  No matter what I do, she hates me.  As I explained to B last night, I feel as though whether I say “Hello!” or “Fuck you!” to her, I’m going to get the same reaction - rolling of the eyes, a shitty remark, and possibly even an insult.  It’s been going on for so long, that at this point I don’t even notice anymore.  I don’t care what she thinks or says about me at this point because honestly, where would that get me?  She’s made me cry so many times that I refuse to allow it to happen ever again.  I made the unfortunate mistake of giving her that power.  Power that she loves and knows how to use to her advantage.

Don’t bother asking why she hates me.  I haven’t got a clue.  The first time I ever saw her, I was with my step-sister at a local place in town and The Witch was standing with B’s ex-girlfriend.  As I passed, she mumbled “ugly slut” under her breath.  Keep in mind, I was 16.  She was in her late 20s.  Immaturity knows no boundaries.  She had forged some type of friendship with B’s ex, even though the girl had broken up with B on his birthday.  In front of all of his friends.  The funny thing is, her and I ended up being friends the next year…  I guess she just made a bad decision on how to end things.  But she was a nice girl.  But you would think that The Witch’s loyalties would lie with B.  After all, her brother-in-law, cute and 16 years old, had been dumped by this girl and here she was joining forces with her and calling me an ugly slut? (Tangent: I was a virgin.  Slut?  Pleassssssssse.  But I digress.)

So anyway, now that you’ve got a quick history on my relationship with The Witch, let’s get to the present problem.  On Sunday night, I got a phone call from a girlfriend who wanted to inform me that she is hosting a get-together at her place on March 8, and she wanted to invite B and I to come to it.  After telling B the details, he looked at me, tense, with something on his mind.

“Well, the thing is, I was going to ask you to go with me that day for my nephew’s birthday party.”

Instantly, I had a headache.  Don’t get me wrong — I love his nephew.  He is adorable and sweet and he gives me lots of hugs every time I see him.  Naturally, I’d want to be present for his birthday and shower him with affection (and money).  But the thought of having to subject myself to hours upon hours of The Witch’s presence, coupled with thoughts of what has happened in the past, made me feel anxious and near vomiting.  I decided to take the “adult approach” and talk it over with him.

“The thing is, honey, I’m really glad you want me to go.  It means a lot to me.  But, you know how I feel about your sister-in-law, and no good can come from her and I being stuck in the same place for an extended period of time.”  I continued on, reminding him of previous disagreements between her and I, while he nodded slowly and agreed with me that yes, she is in fact a crazy, hostile bitch who no one wants to be around.  Eventually we just passed out, and didn’t mention it again.

Until last night.  As we were coming home from a wonderful mexican dinner, it was quiet, so I spoke up.

“So I guess I’ll go to the party on the 8th, and you’ll go to your nephew’s thing without me?” 

“Wait, what?  You never said you weren’t going, you just said you would feel really uncomfortable,” he ventured.

Ugh.  It’s a Pandora’s Box, my friends.  I should have never opened up my big fat mouth.  But I thought that our little trip down Memory Lane two nights before had made it clear that his sister-in-law not only leaves a bad taste in my mouth, but she downright makes me want to throw up said bad taste.  Apparently he was under the impression that I would just suck it up and we would make the best of it.  Years of being subject to her particular penchant for verbal poison have taught me that I will never win.  If I ignore her, she wins.  If I walk away from her, she wins.  If I fight back, she wins because she was able to succeed at getting me worked up. 

B explained that his feelings were hurt.  He really wanted me to go with him, and I should just be able to get over things if it’s really important to him. 

Defensive, I blurted out, “If you think this is the way to get me to want to go — by making me feel guilty — you’re dead wrong.  In fact, it’s making me want to not go even more.”

I could see the hurt written all over his face, and I knew that my Word Vomit could not be taken back.  We sat in silence the rest of the way home. 

When we pulled into our driveway, after we’d both had about 10 minutes to cool off and think to ourselves, I said to him, “It’s not that I don’t want to go with YOU.  It’s not that I don’t like your family.  It’s just HER.  It’s never a good situation.”

Then he said something that surprised me.

“Obviously I want you to go.  I want you to be with me in front of my family because you’re important to me and I want them to know that.  I don’t know when, and I don’t know where, but one day I just woke up and realized that I wanted to be with you for the rest of my life.  I want you to be my wife.  You are a part of me, and I love you.  I will never let her, or anyone for that matter, hurt you again.  Not if I can help it.”

Stunned, I responded with, “If you can promise me that if anything happens, you’ll address it directly with her and we’ll leave immediately, then I will go with you.”

He looked positively shocked.  He grabbed my hand and said, “I promise.  I love you.”

So next Saturday will find B and I making the two hour drive to see his nephew (and The Witch) for a birthday celebration.  I haven’t seen her in about a year.  There will be catty remarks.  She’ll make a comment about how I never come around, how I don’t care about the family, etc.  I will stay quiet and smile.  I may pull her aside and give her my two cents, but not in front of the children.  And when she does what I know she will do, I will wait for B to handle it. 

I really don’t want to go.  But love is about compromise…right?  Plus, how could I say no after what B said to me?

Time for another WTF Wednesday

So yesterday was really kind of rough.  I mean, all sorts of shit just spilled out of everywhere and I found myself pretty damn angry all day.  You know what they say, when it rains, it motherfucking pours.  Today is the perfect day to continue with the WTF Wednesday posts…I’ve got a lot that I’m still pissed off about:

1.  The dream I had last night about my father.  Disturbing, upsetting, and totally random.  The mascara stains on my pillow this morning proved to me that I was actually crying while I was dreaming (Ed. note:  Also?  That I need to be better about washing my face before bed!)

2.  I’m still mad about the things I posted about here.  First of all, the friend from the first situation has not even attempted to talk to me today.  Granted, I told her I needed some time before speaking with her again because I was so angry, but she really should learn how to apologize and start doing it.  She screwed up, majorly.  And after discussing it with B and my BFF last night, we all determined that I had a right to be angry.  Therefore, I’m even angrier today.  I expected her to send me a note saying she’s sorry, but it hasn’t happened.  Well, fine…  I guess we don’t need to speak at all then.

3.  And the second situation?  Well, I’m debating how to proceed.  Should I email or call with a response to the situation?  As far as I know, they don’t know that B and I figured it out.  What do you guys think?  Would an email or a phone call do the trick?  OR, should I wait until THEY attempt to speak with US, THEN go all out in a “wtf-are-you-doing-talking-to-us?!?!” kind of way?  I need opinions!

4.  It’s 82 degrees today.  This makes me very happy.   The fact that it’s foretelling of major thunderstorms and baseball sized hail do NOT make me happy.

5.  Without being way too TMI (Ed note: Too Much Information), I’m having bathroom issues.  Feeling like I really need to go #2, but then not being able to.  Seriously, wtf?!  I’m running to the bathroom every 15 minutes, then leaving 2 minutes later totally unsuccessful and frustrated (also, “backed up”).  UGH.

BUT on the bright side of things, I already received my birthday present from B.  Yes, I am aware that it’s last fall’s patchwork, but B has good ears.  He heard me complaining that I never was able to get one, and was afraid I wouldn’t be able to find one at all.  He managed to swing me by the mall over the weekend and snag it for me.  He really knows how to cheer a girl up!

What is pissing you off today?

Eyes Wide…Open

It’s such a bitch when you find out that you didn’t know someone as well as you thought you did.  It’s also such a bitch when you learn that a friendship wasn’t as good as you thought it was.

I hate to sound melodramatic, but I’m over a lot of shit today and I feel the need to vent it all out.  That’s what blogging is for, right?

I had a conversation with a friend last week.  A conversation that I believed was in confidence, that I believed would go nowhere.  Little to my knowledge, it was repeated to the exact same person we were discussing no sooner than 5 seconds later.  It’s caused a shit-storm.  I hate to be so vague, but I live in constant daily fear that someone I know will discover my blog and be able to determine who I am, based on what I write.  Let’s just say that it led to a huge confrontation between all three of us today.  I feel as though I was treated very unfairly in the whole ordeal, and I’m not just trying to play the victim.  I said what I needed to say to both of them, and while we’re all definitely on the same page about what happened, I am still really angry.  Not as angry as I was at 10:00 this morning, but very angry nonetheless. 

And I had actually come to work in a good mood today!  But the Gods, they had another plan in mind for me. 

“Oh, [CP] is having a good day!  She’s actually seen the break in the clouds!  Let’s pour some more shit on her and watch her drown!”

Then… more stuff happens.  I found out that B and I were purposely not invited to a friend’s birthday party on Saturday night because of this guy.  Basically, the birthday boy is very close with the asshole in the post I put up, yet he’s also very good friends with my boyfriend.  So let me get this straight…  Just because some asshole, who has been friends with my boyfriend for more than 15 years, decides that B needs to choose between their friendship and his relationship with me (and consequently [sp?] B of course chose me and hasn’t spoken to him since then), we all can’t be mature enough to gather together to honor a friend’s birthday? 

Does this make sense to you?

Maybe they didn’t want to deal with any conflict.  But the last time I checked, it was neither B nor I who were wrong in that situation.  If anything, Mr. Birthday Boy and his Girlfriend, who I thought was a friend of mine, should have told the asshole to grow up and keep his mouth shut for one night.  They could have even felt free enough to give the same sage advice to B and myself, if they felt the need.  Yeah, you can say that things happen when people are drinking.  I know this.  But you know what?  It still doesn’t make it right.

So basically, I’m just over it.  I’m over the whole thing.  It’s just two more cases of friendships that aren’t what I thought they were. 

It’s such a bitch.

I only have myself to blame

Drama drama everywhere and no one to blame.  Except myself.

I asked for it.  I complained that my life was getting boring and stagnant.  And I wanted to shake things up a bit.  Well, the gods must have heard my plea for mercy and granted me some wish fulfillment.  Too bad it wasn’t the kind of drama I wanted.

Friday was awful.  A no good, horrible, very-bad day at work.  Followed by an even longer and more terrible drive home, due to traffic.  I got into an argument with B.  He was in a pissy mood, and instead of just telling me why (and it didn’t even have anything to do with me), instead he pouted and was short with me and had an attitude.  Which caused me to have an attitude.  Which led to us fighting on the phone on the way home.  By the time he got home, I was sitting on our bed, crying and dabbing away at the day’s remnants of mascara and eyeliner running down my cheek.  I guess all it took for him to realize what an insensitive jerk he’d been, was to see me sitting there, crying.  He felt awful, confided what his problem was, and said he was sorry. 

Saturday started out amazing.  It was cold, but sunny, and all of us were excited for the day’s activities.  Seven girls + a sober driver (B volunteered) + four wineries = a hell of a lot of fun. 

We got a late start.  M2 was over an hour late getting to our meeting point.  Her ex showed up late as hell to pick up their kids.  He did it just to spite her, knowing that she had plans for the day.  Every minute that she was late was taking away from the time we needed to complete the wine trail.  We sat around on edge waiting for her to get there, knowing it wasn’t her fault.  Once he finally arrived and she was able to leave, he decided to insult her physical appearance via text message.  Because you know, when you’re a grown-ass man, and you have kids, you can be classy like that.  Asshole.

At the end of the day, as we were all drunk with happiness and massive amounts of red and white wine, the drama with the other girls started.  Two of the girls, T and K, date brothers.  T has been with her boyfriend for about five years.  K has been with hers for two years.  Both of their boyfriends are possessive and jealous types, never wanting their other half to have a life of their own.  What is the problem with a bunch of girls hanging out all day, drinking wine and having girl time, I ask you?  The only boy around us was my boyfriend B, and that was because he was sweet enough to offer to be our designated driver.  T and K’s boyfriends started getting angry with the fact that we were all staying at S’s house for the night.  They felt as though they should drive the hour home, even though they’d been drinking all day.  So the other brothers in the family started in with the fighting too.  Before you know it, they were texting T and K and insulting them.  So the boys, being ya know MATURE and all, decided that if their girlfriends were going to stay the night out (oh holy hell what a sin!) that they were going to go out too.  To a nearby college.  To a frat party. 

So the girls got upset.  They tried to reason and say that it wasn’t a fair trade-off.  That they were with girls only.  But if the boys went to this frat party, that they would be with other girls, and really how did that make them any better than their girlfriends?

Are you confused?  Yeah, I was too.

Our mood inside the car went from laughing and happy to tense and awkward in 2 seconds flat.  T and K were fighting with their boyfriends via text message and phone calls for the last 20 minutes of the ride home. 

Upon our arrival at S’s house, the girls announced that they wanted to leave.  We managed to convince them that if they did that, all they were doing was allowing their boyfriends to win, to exert control over them and what they choose to do with their life.  Plus, I pointed out, if they left, they’d most likely not end up at home, but in jail facing a DUI charge.

They stayed.

The rest of the night was fine, fun even.  B picked up food for us, then he went home to hang out by himself.  I guess all the estrogen and girl time was enough to wear him down!  Bless his heart for doing that for us, however.  It was very sweet of him.

Relationships are complicated.  What is the point in being with someone when all you ever do is fight?  What is the point in being in a relationship with someone that you feel you must be with at all times or else something bad will happen?  What is the point in investing so much into a relationship where you don’t trust each other?

It was enough to wear me out.

Later on that night, as everyone else was sleeping, I laid there staring at the ceiling thinking of my relationship with B.  For everything that we have, and everything that we are, it has never been perfect.  We’ve broken up before, called a few time-outs to evaluate things.  We still have our disagreements about things, usually small.  We’ve managed to come up with successful, healthy ways to resolve issues and arguments.  In him, I have a best friend who I know will not insult me or harass me or keep me locked in a cage.  The best kind of a relationship is one built on trust and friendship where you encourage the other to do things that make them happy.  And if that means a night away from home with your best friends, then that is okay — even if you are going to miss that person terribly while they are gone.

When I got home yesterday morning, B was sleeping on the couch.  He had fallen asleep in the living room the night before.  When I woke him up to ask him why he hadn’t slept in our bed, he said “it felt really empty without you there.  Plus, ya know, I wanted to watch tv and all.”  A smile spread across his face.

He missed me too.