Blood & Guts

I woke up a bloody mess last week. No, I'm not using that as slang because the Olympics have just begun, I'm talking an actual bloody mess. I woke up and there was blood on my pillow. It was just a little so I figured I'd had a bit of a nose bleed and thought nothing of it. Until a few days later when I got up in the early morning hours to go to the bathroom and saw 1/4 of my pillow covered in blood. Seriously freaked out, I checked for the source and discovered it had been coming from my nose and mouth. I called the doctor and got in for an appointment right away. Nosebleeds are fairly common but in my case they're nothing to mess with. The IV meds I had to attempt to treat my anemia have a potential long-term side effect - leukemia. And bleeding from the nose is a symptom of certain kinds of leukemia. And bleeding from the gums is a sign of a low platelet count in people with leukemia. And now you understand why I was so alarmed.
I always have the "L" word in the back of my mind, especially at times when I feel extra run down or when my anemia isn't quite under control. But I try not to think about it too much because the "what ifs" drive you crazy. I know it's always a possibility though and that scared the hell out of me. The doctor scheduled a bunch of tests for me next week, including the bone marrow biopsy I've been delaying for at least a month now. They took more blood and my counts were up a bit so he flat out said he has no idea what's going on. But he set me up with another leukemia specialist. He says there's reason to believe it's just my anemia out of control and not leukemia though, so that's something. The fact that my counts were up is one good thing. I also just had a plasma transfusion not too long ago so he thinks that also plays in my favor. But he's genuinely puzzled as to why nothing's worked to keep my anemia in check yet. So I don't know. Hopefully this week's tests provide some answers. At this point, taking my spleen out is the least of my worries.

Virgin Territory

I cannot sleep, therefore I will blog. My friends and I have become borderline obsessed with the show, "Virgin Diaries" on TLC. It started as a one-off special and is now a full blown series, complete with three new virgins every week. I have no idea why this show fascinates me so much. I don't really have a "thing" for virgins like some peeps do, I prefer my women experienced. I think it's more the stories of how they've remained in the shrink wrap for so long that have me hooked. So far they've introduced six virgins. A few have been religious (one Mormon guy, 36, and one Christian woman, 33), which is what most people assume is the reason when peeps say they're older virgins. But others have more interesting and downright odd stories. A 41-year-old woman said she was not a virgin by choice but because she "never got around" to having sex. As if it's something on a shopping list she just forgot to pick up while at the grocery store. How do you just not get around to it? Even worse, she felt the need to "come out" to her friends about being a virgin because she felt it would make her life easier if the big secret was out. She threw a party and got up in front of these people and said she was a virgin and...well, no one really cared. With the exception of one married lad who gushed to the camera about how, if he were single, he would feel honored to take her virginity (he said this as his wife was standing next to him). The whole thing was so ridiculous. Do people hold parties to announce they lost their virginity too these days? And who would care anyway? It's your virginity. It's not like people spend hours on end wondering to themselves whether you're a virgin or not. This show seems to catch the virgins when they're in heat (and who wouldn't be after 36 years) and occasionally interviews them once they've done the deed. One 29-year-old chick "prepped" for her potential deflowering by getting her lady parts waxed (by a man, coincidentally). She talked up her first time for half the show but didn't particularly care who it was with, as long as it happened. When they caught up with her she was no longer a virgin, thanks to a booty call from a guy friend that resulted in a quickie. She seemed unimpressed with this whole sex thing and had no idea if she'd do it again.
"Virgin Diaries" also followed another couple to the altar this season, albeit a slightly less creepy one than in their first special. The first couple looked like they could be related (which is always creepy anyway) and were both virgins in their 20's who were planning a wedding and, more importantly, a wedding night. They hadn't even kissed because they were saving it for their wedding day. The kiss...went viral and scarred many non-virgins for life. But the thing that struck me about the episode was how uncomfortable the groom seemed. The bride was super excited for the wedding but much more excited for the sex that would come (haha) after. The groom was not really very excited about anything. He looked like he was going to be sick whenever the subject of the wedding day or night were brought up. She was, "I can't wait to get married and have sex", whereas he was more, "Yeah...". I understand not being thrilled about the wedding, some grooms aren't, but to not be thrilled about getting it on after a 20-some year wait? Even a year later when they checked in on them he still didn't seem all that enthused. The contrast between him and the most recent groom on the show is day and night. This other dude was goofy and more than ready to end a 36 year drought of no nookie. His fiancee was not a virgin. He also decided it was a good idea to visit the wax...er and get his chest hair removed because he thought she would like that (apparently you gotta wax something before you lose it nowadays). He literally counted down the hours til he lost his virginity. The next morning the cameras visited the newlyweds and dude was on cloud nine about it all but his wife was not. He was bragging about how good it was and she was telling him to slow his roll cuz it wasn't all that. He also told the camera he cried afterward...yeah...not sure what that's about. But it produced the following text:

Me: Maybe it's cuz I'm a slut but I don't know how anyone waits that long.
Friend: It is because you are a slut.


I was rather young when I lost my virginity but I wouldn't change the circumstances or the person it was with. It wasn't perfect but first times rarely are. I was in love though and I'm sure that had an effect on it. And since I am, as a friend so eloquently agreed, a slut (or was at one time anyway) I just don't understand holding out.  I get it if it's a religious thing or if you're just not ready, but the thing that's always made me wonder is people who wait til marriage. Especially if both partners are virgins. What happens if there's no sexual compatibility there? You're already married so you're kinda screwed (in more ways than one) if there's no sexual chemistry. What's always drawn me to more experienced women is that they tend to know what they want and like and what they want to try out. I've never understood my genders fascination with virgins and I've certainly never thought it appealing to be someone else's first (aside from my own first time obviously). But, as they say, different strokes for different folks. I'm sure my fascination with this show will continue and I may be back to share more stories about virgins in their natural habitat. Stay tuned...

7 Minutes In Hell

The other night I was telling a friend how annoyed I was that I had close to fifty drafts I had yet to finish or publish on this very blog. Now that seems like such an unimportant thing with news of the mass shooting at a movie theater in Aurora, Colorado. I was born and raised in Colorado, living in a handful of areas before leaving for college in the summer of '99. In April of that year the Columbine High School shooting happened and, for some reason, I still remember that very clearly. I was a senior in high school and since it was about a month until graduation, there was little in the way of learning still happening. My only afternoon class was math (the one thing standing between me and graduation, I'm terrible at math) and I remember walking into the classroom and hearing people talking about a shooting. Everyone who walked into the door of the class took their seat and turned their attention towards the breaking news on TV. We all started asking questions to get caught up on what was going on but for the next hour we sat in silence as we watched the aftermath of the shooting unfold. It was scary and it was hard to comprehend exactly what was happening in a high school no different than the one we were sitting in at that moment. I went home afterward and was fixated on the news the rest of the night. It was all just so unbelievable; thousands of teenagers across the country went to school that day but 12 never walked out of their high school again.
The city where Columbine took place was in my home state but wasn't really within my community, per se. I'd never been to the area where it happened, or heard of the school until the day it became infamous. The shooting in Aurora however was almost quite literally in my own backyard. Aurora is a suburb of Denver and my aunt and uncle lived there for most of my childhood. Occasionally my siblings and I would spend a weekend with them and go bumming around the area, go shopping and go to the movies. I have been to the Century 16 theater at least half a dozen times and I'm sure the same goes for the hundreds of moviegoers who were there on July 20 for that midnight screening. Much like Columbine, everyone arrived expecting the night to be like any other, but for 12 people it was their last night. The youngest victim was just 6 and the oldest was 51, but the majority of the dead were in their 20's. I don't think the impact of exactly what happened in these situations hits home for a lot of people until they get the facts. Once names and ages and life stories begin to trickle out you realize that all of those ambitions and hopes and dreams are gone, and for no reason at all.
In the immediate aftermath of the shooting I was struck by the story of one victim in particular, Jessica Ghawi. She was the only confirmed fatality at that point and the reason for that was the friend she went to the movie with was wounded but had the presence of mind to call her family and tell them he believed she was dead. (FYI, for almost 24 hours on Friday, the loved ones of most of the 11 other victims could not get confirmation that they were gone. I understand they needed to go over an extensive crime scene and all but there has to be a better way to handle notifying the next of kin in these situations. Knowing but not knowing your loved one is dead has to be torturous.)I can't imagine what it must have taken for her brother to make the media rounds hours after his sisters' death urging people to remember the victims and not their murderer. I don't think I'd be able to move if anything ever happened to any of my family or friends, let alone talk about them in detail during an interview. That dude is much tougher than I'll ever be. A month ago, his sister was in Toronto visiting her boyfriend and ventured to the mall to eat and shop. According to her blog, an odd feeling came over her and she decided to walk out of the mall. Three minutes later a man opened fire in the very food court she had been eating in, killing two people and injuring three others. In what would turn out to be her final blog entry she detailed what she saw and heard and the feeling that led her to leave when she did and most likely saved her life. It's eerie to read now that she's no longer with us. It's unbelievable and so tragic that she found herself in a different country a month later and died in a similar rampage to the one she'd witnessed in Toronto. Seriously, what are the odds of that? I've often wondered if there is some sort of 'Final Destination'-esque situation at play in life and this story only makes me wonder even more. In the past, I've thought about it in relation to myself because I survived something I probably shouldn't have and since then I have questioned how much more time I may actually have on this earth. Of course, none of us will ever know for sure if some entity is actually controlling when we live or die, or whether death actually follows you and makes good on its, 'sorry I missed you, I'll call again' promissory notes. And that's for the best. But I can't get over how lucky this girl was one month and how terribly unlucky she was Friday.
So what happens now, we all wonder. Do we start to see metal detectors pop up at movie theaters the way they did in high schools post-Columbine? Will emergency exits, meant to help people reach safety but used last week as a means to bring in weapons and end lives, be monitored in some way to make sure no one can re-enter once they leave? Obviously the gun control debate will heat up, already idiots on one side are saying someone with a gun could've prevented injuries and deaths and possibly killed the gunman. However logical thinking people realize that if someone else had a gun in that theater, the death toll could've been much worse. You fumble for your gun in a dark, loud, chaotic theater and you start firing in the general direction of where you believe the shooter to be and inadvertently shoot innocent people. Or, even worse, several people have guns and all fumble the same way and it become a shoot out reminiscent of the Old West. I've always believed that people kill people and not guns, but guns sure do make it a lot easier for people to kill each other. You never hear about anyone going on a rampage with a knife and killing dozens of people. And there is absolutely no reason someone needs to own a gun that fires multiple rounds at once like one of those used in this shooting. The entire attack lasted roughly seven minutes and in that time 71 people were injured or killed. Seventy-one people in seven minutes. If there were tougher gun laws it's quite possible he has weapons he needs to stop and reload often, giving his would-be victims time to get out of the theater and find safety.
The number of people affected by this is far greater than seventy-one. Those seventy-one people have families and friends and people who loved them whose lives are also forever altered. There are first responders and doctors and nurses and investigators who will be affected by what they saw. Many of those who were in the theater that night are young and will likely have to cope with PTSD, which is a bitch and affects every aspect of your life. Others are affected in minor ways, like people who will stay away from malls or movie theaters for awhile. Hell, even I've already stated that my daughter will never see the inside of a movie theater again, and I've totally scrapped plans to see "The Dark Knight Rises" in a theater. Not because I think there will be a similar attack but because I know I won't be able to watch it without constantly thinking of what happened. People go to the movies because it provides escapism and, at the moment, it no longer does that for many of us. I also can't help but think of the movie's director and cast (I am a Film major after all), but not because I feel sorry for them. They'll make their millions and be just fine but I've directed before and I can't imagine having your vision taken to such a sick extreme in real life. To conceive something and create it and achieve your dream and then have it forever be linked to something so terrible. He didn't do anything wrong obviously, he just brought his vision to life, but it'll always be in his head that these people lost their lives because they wanted to be among the first to see his movie.
The next year will no doubt be filled with lawsuits (one ridiculous one is already in the works apparently) and legal motions and a psych evaluation for the killer. Everyone already has an opinion on motive and his state of mind at the time, but I highly doubt we'll ever get a why from him. My mom thinks he's schizophrenic, which does make some sense because he's right in the age group for that to begin setting in. He's also incredibly smart and those people seem prone to schizophrenia. But let us not forget he was working towards a PhD in Neuroscience so he has studied and lectured on the brain. If anyone can fake an insanity defense, it would be someone who knows exactly what doctors would be looking for. I'm not sure what to make of him yet, but I think the deliberate planning over several months would make it difficult to use an insanity defense (unless he's actually declared mentally ill by doctors and even then I'd have to question if it was an act). Regardless of the defense, we know he'll spend the rest of his life in prison. Hopefully people will remember the victims rather than the man who turned his anger and stockpile of weapons on them. The killers always seem to be recalled by name when there is an attack of this magnitude and the victims just fall away. His picture and name will be plastered all over the news every time he has a hearing or there's more information about what happened released, yet we'll likely only see the victims photos for the next few weeks as they're laid to rest and then not again until his trial. And the whole thing is just sickening.
I'm fascinated by how sometimes the most mundane of things can be the last things you ever do in life. July 20, 2012 should've been like any other day with the exception that people around the world were watching the most anticipated movie of the year at midnight screenings. The people at the Century 16 should've watched the movie and walked out a few hours later, texting friends and family about how much they liked or didn't like what they'd just seen on the screen. They shouldn't have left in the back of white vans transporting them to the coroner's office. No one ever thinks twice about going to a movie or a restaurant or a mall, we just do it. But sometimes the smallest decisions we make can turn out to be the most fateful. If we're lucky, we get to live and are given a second chance to make decisions. If we turn out to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, there are no second chances. It gives me chills to think about how just the decisions those people made about where to sit in the theater may have saved or cost them their lives. Taking it back even farther, many had purchased their tickets months in advance and it was purely luck of the draw as to which movie theater they ended up in. They spent months waiting in anticipation of July 20th while someone they didn't even know spent those same months acquiring the weapons and ammunition he would use to kill them.

Taken from Jessica Ghawi's blog about the Toronto shooting:

"I was shown how fragile life was on Saturday. I saw the terror on bystanders’ faces. I saw the victims of a senseless crime. I saw lives change. I was reminded that we don’t know when or where our time on Earth will end. When or where we will breathe our last breath. For one man, it was in the middle of a busy food court on a Saturday evening.

I say all the time that every moment we have to live our life is a blessing. So often I have found myself taking it for granted. Every hug from a family member. Every laugh we share with friends. Even the times of solitude are all blessings. Every second of every day is a gift. After Saturday evening, I know I truly understand how blessed I am for each second I am given."

*Second blog forthcoming on my ex's family having been affected by what happened.

Sexcetera

Everybody comes with a past and with baggage. When you're navigating the beginning of a relationship, you usually very carefully go over what you think you should tell the other person about your and what you should withhold. I've always been very open about everything in my past; relationships, sex, life events. Ideally, you don't have to hold back a single thing from the person you love. Ideally. It doesn't always work out that way, does it? We can fall for someone and enjoy every moment with them but still feel like we need to hold things back, either to protect them or to protect ourselves. Or the other person tells you from the gate that they don't want to know anything about your past. Maybe I'm naive, but I have always wanted to spend my life with someone I can tell anything and everything to, no matter how mundane or random. That's such a freeing thing, to be completely yourself and spill all of your secrets and past sins and not be judged. I have been there before and I hope I can get back to that place with someone eventually. I don't believe in keeping secrets when you're in love with somebody.

All that said, I am guilty of keeping a few secrets in my last relationship. Sometimes I felt like we could talk about anything, but even then I would hold back some stuff. Especially things about my sex life back in the dark ages. She told me very early on that she could never be with someone who had experimented in certain ways sexually and I filed that little tidbit away. At one point the subject of threesomes came up and I admitted to having had one. She was taken aback but got over it. The problem for me was that I've had more than one and, out of panic, I had said, "Yes" when she asked if it was "just the one time". And it wasn't really panic, it was just that I felt incredibly judged at that moment. When I said I had been involved in one threesome, she immediately threw out some line questioning my character and I didn't wanna know what the reaction would be if I fessed up to the full extent of my activities. She claimed it bothered her because she was worried I would want a threesome again in the future and that was never going to happen with her, which I already knew. We went happily along for awhile before the subject of how many people we'd been with came up. I've always believed that numbers are just that - numbers. It doesn't matter and it doesn't have any bearing on where we are now because it's in the past. She, however, delved deeper into the threesome thing and eventually I confessed to having had a few over the years, including one that was ongoing for a few months. The entire time I was answering her questions about it, I felt so uncomfortable but still didn't think it would be a big deal. And it wasn't until she said I was a liar for not telling her these things earlier, as if I was keeping something that had a direct effect on her life at that moment from her. Yes, I omitted some things and I shouldn't have said, "Yes" when she asked if it was a one time thing, but I tried to explain to her that she's never been in that position before of having her character questioned over a past experimentation. It fell on deaf ears. And, as if I didn't know to keep things to myself already, I decided not to share anything else about my past exploits. But I felt...I don't know, I just didn't like having to keep a whole section of my life and my past to myself when I should've been able to share it with someone I cared about (though not details, mind you).

The thing that made this conversation between her and I so laughable is that it was such a double standard. Because I often joke about being a manwhore, she took that to mean my "number" was a lot higher than it actually is. And once we started comparing, it turned out she'd done more volume than me in recent years. Prior to this chat I was under the impression (because she said as much) that she'd been with five guys total. Then the number jumped to seven, which I still had no opinion on. But as she started going through the list I noticed that our views on sex varied some. She talked about having spent a night she regrets with a friend, but went out of her way to say it was not a one night stand. So you had sex with someone once...never had it again with that person...but it wasn't a one night stand? Okay. It was like she had all these reasons why certain times didn't count and why her number really wasn't her number at all, etc. But if I had tried to say the same things, she would've been on me about lying about my past. She said all this even though she knew I didn't care. If she'd banged all seven guys in one week, I wouldn't have cared. The past is past and, as long as our pasts didn't leave us with anything disease-wise, they shouldn't matter. I also explained repeatedly that who I was in the dark ages is not who I am now. I've become a parent since then, I've grown up since then. And just because I had a few threesomes back then doesn't mean I'm gonna jump at the first opportunity to have them again in the future. People change and circumstances change. Yes, I did it because I could in my 20's but I've since learned that just because you can do something doesn't mean you should. That's called maturity (or so I hear).

Why is it so difficult to accept things a lover has done in the past? If our friends tell us about their exploits we laugh and joke along and help them when they need to find a way out of something. But when it's someone we're dating and/or sleeping with, there's a whole new set of rules that apply. I know part of it is jealousy, no one wants to think about the person they love being with anyone else, even if it's already happened. Another part of it is morals, we all have an idea of what is wrong and what is right in our opinion and for some people there is no grey area. I think that was the problem with her is that things were right or wrong, they were black or white and you just can't go through life like that. Or at least I can't. Hell, I spent the better part of my 20's living in that big ass grey area. My own perception of right and wrong were skewed. But I still don't regret anything I did sexually and I shouldn't be made to feel ashamed about it just because it goes against what someone else deems acceptable. She never scolded me for it or anything but I knew she was somewhat religious and that she didn't approve of my past activities. I would say, "What does it matter? It's all past, I'm with you now and I only want you", but it wouldn't change anything. She'd just make some comment about how I'd lied before about my past and she just wanted to make sure I wouldn't do it again. She'd say it was okay for me to tell her stuff in one breath and then in the next condemn the very same behavior she had asked me about. And I hated feeling guilty about it all the time. Or rather, I hated that there was this silence that made me feel like she wanted me to feel guilty about it. I never really did though. I did it, I'm not sorry I did it, but that doesn't mean I want to do it again. It's not like I thought I would wear her down on the threesome thing and just turn to her one day and say, "If you love me, you'll do this". That never even crossed my mind because I knew how against it she was. The irony was that she has more gay friends than anyone I have ever known but also has the most conservative views on sex (in some ways) of anyone I know. The other irony is two of her seven people were married when she slept with them, something I wouldn't ever do. My multiple partners are so hard for her to wrap her head around but her married ones should be no big deal. One thing I have learned from that experience though is that I need someone who I can spill all of my secrets to, not just select the ones that won't get me into too much trouble.

The Indignant Indigent

(G was at a government office)

G: So then she starts reading it in Spanish
G: Because I'm dark skinned so I must be an indigent
Me: LOL!
G: LMAO. *Immigrant! Fuck it all!

Viva La México And Jewish Priests!

...Yeah...


Friend: Shoot, my mom's going out to a party...I'm in my pjs
Me: LOL. That sentence...sums up our lives now
Friend: lol It does, doesn't it?
Friend: I just told her, 'Don't be home too late!'
Me: Tell her not to come home pregnant
Friend: I did and she said 'kay'
Me: You know what that means...you're gonna be a grandma before she graduates
Friend: *falls to her knees*Nooooooooooooooo!!!!
Me: We're Mexican, this needs to be more telenovela. You need to fall to your knees as a Priest walks in and your mom's step-brother is revealed to be the father of her baby
Friend: Not accurate enough.
Friend: I'm pregnant too and the priest walking in is the father
Me: Still not enough. You're pregnant and you don't know whether the priest or a female friend is the father
Friend: The baby's Asian! OOOOOHHHHHHH SNAP!
Me: The priest is Jewish! OOOOOOOOYYYY VEY!
Friend: LOL!!!
=====================

Me: And bc you are the holiest whore I know

Friend: LOL when we have our nighttime talk show, our backup band will be The Holy Whores

Me: LOL YES!!
Me: Padre Judio and the Holy Whores, ladies and gentlemen!

Friend: Phil Collins is going to rewrite his song in our honor and call it JujuJudio

Me: LOL Oh man, I can't breathe

Me: Now I have that damn Phil Collins song stuck in my head and I don't even like that song

Friend: LOL It's stuck in my head too

=====================

Me: Flip phones: $50 (in the 90's), Liquor: $0 (cuz we stole it), Creating a telenovela with a Jew and rewriting Phil Collins on a Saturday night: PRICELESS
Me: *clink*
Friend: LOL I love you

There's No You In Tomorrow, A "Better" Offer Came Through

What is owed to someone you've spent eight years of your life with? Or anyone you've spent a great deal of time with in a romantic relationship? I guess it varies depending on the people and the relationship, really. And the state of the relationship when one of those people decides to pick up their marbles and go home. A friend of mine is asking that question today because of an email she got late last night. She and the sender of this email dated on and off for six years and went through some very grown up and traumatic things during that time. They remained friendly for two years post-split, but not really friends. They had that awkward time where they lingered after the break-up, but she put an end to that after realizing she couldn't hook up with him without catching feelings. They've been talking sparingly over the last two years because he's been helping her with a project (and, more importantly, providing his input for free). It hasn't been like a friendship, just more of a working relationship and, like I said, even that only happens every now and then. A year and a half ago he began dating someone else and it became serious rather quickly. She asked him early on whether them still talking on occasion was going to be an issue now that he was dating someone seriously and he said something along the lines of it being none of his girlfriend's business. He even said that she was family and if his girlfriend had a problem with him helping her, she'd just have to get over it. As far as the friend knew, his girlfriend didn't have any issues with it. If she did, he never offered that information and the friend never asked.
So imagine her surprise last night when she got home from dinner and saw an email from him in her Inbox. It was delivered at around 12:00AM, with the subject line, "Please Read". Upon opening it, she read three a few lines that basically amounted to, "Hey, I can't have contact of any kind with you anymore cuz it's affecting my relationship with my girlfriend, bye." No, 'take care', no phone call to explain the reasons (although, interestingly, he did call this afternoon but she didn't answer). Just done. You'd never know these people dated for six years and were in each other's lives for eight years total. Oh, and he decided to send this on a day when she was presenting the project he had helped with and he had to have known that the potential outcomes of that presentation weren't all that great. I don't know what's worse; the email itself and its lack of detail or knowing that he was aware of the timing being bad but sent it anyway. Everyone has a different theory; his girlfriend told him she was pregnant and he panicked, he proposed to her but she refused to marry him until he cut his ex out of the picture. And, in theory, those both make sense...kinda...but not really. When she first opened it up and read it, the friend wondered if he was the one who actually authored it because the tone was so cold and just not him. He's a very loyal dude and she wasn't sure he would just end eight years of friendship in a three line email at twelve in the morning. But she realized that, if the girlfriend had sent it, it would eventually get back to him what she'd done and that'd be the end of their relationship, so he had to have done it himself. (Or maybe she authored it but made him send it. Who knows at this point.) But who takes 18 months to decide, 'You know what...your ex-girlfriend is a problem yo'? I would think she'd know that much earlier and say as much. Understandably, the friend is upset. Because it's vague and was totally out of left field and probably not expected to happen at all, forget about it happening during such a crazy time in her life. Just saying, 'we're done' and not giving the option to say a proper goodbye is just too harsh. I don't get it. We talked about it for an hour and she read the actual email to me and I still don't get it. Her assessment is that they must be taking some kind of big step in the relationship (marriage or a kid) for him to send that email. That makes sense but it's still cold to just shut someone out. Even if you have to cut someone off, you should at least elaborate as to why and close the chapter in a proper way. Hearing her talk about this story reminded me of my engagement and disengagement in my mid-20's. It's common knowledge that the disengagement was not my choice, but nowadays I can't imagine what would've happened had we gone through with it. We planned to go on vacation and check out wedding venues and she even joked beforehand that maybe we'd just get hitched while we were there. but a few days into the trip something changed drastically. Suddenly she was distant and uninterested in wedding planning. I didn't push her about it, figuring she'd tell me what was up when she was ready. We went out and spent an entire day sightseeing but didn't talk much and then turned in early. I think she knew well before then, maybe even before we landed for our vacation, that she was going to leave me. The next day, I woke up in our hotel room to a note saying, "I'm sorry, I can't marry you." She was gone, already on a plane back home, and I was left blindsided and wondering what the hell went wrong. I blamed myself. I defended the way she left to the people I loved, believing it had to be a mistake and we'd work things out. But it's hard to work things out when somebody changes their number and essentially goes into hiding post-break-up. I had no choice but to let it go. A few months later, I was at a party and came across someone who was a mutual friend of ours, although they did not know that or know of our history. She talked about my now ex-fiancee and her new boyfriend and my heart dropped. Once she said the ex had a boyfriend everything made sense. I'd heard rumors back when we were just friends about her sleeping with a married man, but I never paid attention to it because of our friendship. And because I thought she was better than that. This man was a husband and a father and I never would've guessed she'd be capable of being a homewrecker. By the time we fell into dating, I had forgotten all about those whispers anyway.I showed up at her door asking what had gone wrong (by then I was back in freefall but sobered up long enough to hurl some curse words her way), not letting on that I knew exactly why she went away. She looked like she'd just seen a ghost and avoided my questions saying it was 'complicated' and said we'd just talk another time. When we did talk, she gave me some story about how she couldn't give me what I needed and so she chose to walk away. I told her I was under the impression she'd left me for her boy toy and she went silent. Then she denied everything and left. She was in and out of my life for the next four months or so but only when she could think of a convincing reason for leaving the way she did. Or when she wanted to try and convince me she didn't cheat. But it was all pointless. At that point, I'd heard from the dude's ex-wife and how she found out they were cheating and how my ex leaving me just happened to coincide with the same day her ex filed for divorce. Evidently, they'd been having an affair for at least six years and have since married and had a child together. I don't understand affairs at all but what has always thrown me about our relationship is why she said she wanted to marry me and why she said yes when I proposed. My gut feeling is that she felt being with me was better than nothing (and doesn't that make me feel so special). She was eight years my senior and both her siblings had settled down already. I'm guessing the boy toy had told her early that year (when we began dating) that he would never leave his wife and she decided to stop holding out for someone she couldn't live without and settle for someone she could live with. But when he finally did leave his wife, I became disposable and she moved on. Who cares how that decision affects anyone else, right? I'll just get over it. And I have. I've survived worse and, in the grand scheme of things, she's just a blip on the radar.
I'm not comparing my ex-fiancee to my friend's ex-boyfriend at all (although, curiously, three out of the four of us mentioned in this post are Tauruses so...take what you will from that). Clearly, her ex loved her for many years and they went through a lot of things together. I don't know that my ex ever loved me to begin with and we certainly weathered far less in our eight months of togetherness. But, even though the circumstances were different, I think both the friend and I deserved more than an email and a letter. Her situation has yet to reach its final outcome yet, but I think eight years in someone's life means you should at least have a phone call or something to explain why you're cutting off contact. Even if it's because your chick is "making" you. My cousin and his high school sweetheart had to cut off contact when his girlfriend demanded it, but he still managed to un-whip himself long enough to call her and explain everything. I don't know...I just hope she gets the closure on the situation that she needs.

B-I-T-C-H Slap

Friend: lol This conversation has made it clear to me why we DON'T talk about rappers
Me: LOL
Me: It's like we're both so caught off guard about the conversation topic that we go all deer in the headlights
Friend: LOL
======================
Friend: lol You bitch, you didn't make sense on purpose!
Me: LOL
Me: Oh no you did not call me a bitch
Friend: B
Friend: I
Friend: T
Friend: C
Friend: H
Me: I will take yo wig
Friend: Come git it BITCH
Me: LOL
Me: *crowd parts and a round of 'ooooohhhh's come up*
Friend: LOL
Friend: And nobody wonders where the crowd came from
Me: lol They just follow us
Friend: lol It the hot new thang: Porta-Posse!
Friend: "Cuz when you gots to go, you gots to go!"
Me: We'll market that and it'll be like one of those trick can of worms but it'll have sea monkeys inside
Me: Sea monkeys with gold Easter Bunny chains
Friend: LOL
Friend: It's a shame we don't get off our dainty asses
Me: Right? World domination!
Me: ...Soon as I get outta this chair
Friend: LOL yeah
Friend: Procrastinators of the world UNITE....tomorrow!
Me: lol Or...the third Thursday in August
Me: If we all remember
Me: Someone bring cookies and punch
Friend: Keep an eye out for the evite
Friend: You fuckers better confirm!

Do You Believe In Magic?

I know way too many chicks. Never has this been more apparent than in the week since "Magic Mike" was released. I've gotten texts ranging from Crazy Aunt telling me it made her, "feel like a natural woman" (yes, that is a mortifying direct quote), to another friend flat out saying she was horny as a mofo upon leaving the theater (I sure hope they steam clean theater seats these days). And now, that damn movie is even infiltrating my conversations with other dudes. This convo happened ten minutes ago and was the best laugh I've had all day.

G: Saw your new Facebook photo.

G: I do believe you are just about the prettiest thing I've ever laid eyes on.

Me: lol Eff off

G: Whoa there, Magic Mike! Calm down now!

Me: LOL. I hate you. I've heard about that damn movie too much this week.

G: lol Word!. It's weird to say out loud but I think that movie is improving my marriage.


And another from yesterday that still has me laughing my dainty ass off.



Me: I'm the Bobby to your Whitney too
G: Get up off my ass
G: Save your money jack
G: You know I've been humpin' a clown
Me: LOL! Wow...there is so much wrong with that, I don't even know where to start
G: LMAO AROUND!! Fuck the iPhone, man.
Me: I hope someone got your clown humping on tape
G: lol If they did, your cousin will so divorce me.
Me: Save your money, jack? Is it a clown hooker of some sort?
G: Stop it
Me: And why is it on your ass if you're humping a clown? Are there two clowns? I'm so confused.
G: LOL SHUT UP!

Is My Clock A-Tickin'?

I'm up late (again) and I'm annoyed with myself. Not for being up late, but because I'm watching a show on the Spanish channel about a couple bringing home their first kid. And I can feel myself caving on this whole 'wanting more kids' thing. But I am prone to doing this. I'm a sucker for anything baby; animals, humans, anything baby. But seeing babies and baby animals doesn't make me want another baby or a baby animal of my own. The thing about this show is it's reminding me of all the fun stuff. Waiting (and, sometimes, waiting some more) for the baby to be born. Bringing the baby home for the first time, and the days and long nights that follow. I'm sure nothing compares to the feelings of bringing the first one home; the nerves of literally having someone else's little life in your hands, learning how to care for a newborn. You only do that once really. But I'm sure the excitement is there every time you bring home a kid. It has been for me with the nieces and nephews. The problem with my getting sucked into the baby rat race is that I tend to forget babies become teenagers eventually. I love babies, I even enjoy toddlers more than the average person (I cannot resist a toddler learning how to mouth off, which is why Miss N's mom had to take the reigns on disciplining her for her mouth). But teenagers? Yeah. I've raised one, another niece is just entering her teenage years and already it's breaking my heart, and in nine (sure to be) short years, Miss N will be a teenager herself. *shudder* I wish they could stay little forever. I love being up in the middle of the night with a baby (although I'm not crazy about the mofo lack of sleep involved). I love watching their little eyes light up as they learn new things. I love chasing them down when they slip past a baby gate or climb a cabinet. *sigh* So yeah, that's why I'm annoyed. Time to turn off the TV and try to get some sleep.

Who We Are Is Who We Are, When The Act Of Love Can Get Us So Far

You know those commercials where people brag about the family members they found through  Ancestry.com? This one's related to a barber, that one's related to a civil war hero, another one is related to a woman who married three different men. No one ever turns up on those commercials boasting that they're related to like a serial killer or Hitler or anyone undesirable. Or at least no one goes all over the television to brag about it. And that's completely understandable, most of us have a branch (or eight) of our family tree that we'd rather not talk about. I'm estranged from an entire side of my family and have been since I was 17. We were all very tight and close those first 17 years but then some stuff went down and most of us hadn't seen each other until Gramp's funeral this year (which I opted not to go to because I still don't want to see any of them). I have an uncle who is also pretty much estranged from us, which is his decision really. And then there's that whole other branch of my family tree that comes from my father.
I've wondered on this blog before if it's better to know a parent that is unfit and bear the scars of it later on or if it's better to not know them at all and deal with the void that leaves. I have very few friends and family members who grew up in "traditional" households with the as-seen-on-tv happy family scenario. Some only had one parent because the other one chose to leave, some only had one parent because the other one passed away when they were young. Some had both parents but the situation was volatile and they witnessed and experienced things no kid should have to. Some started out with two parents, then had one, then had a revolving door of step-parents. Yet we all ended up finding each other. We all share voids from absent parents (for whatever reason), or scars, physical or mental or both, from the tumultuous upbringing our parents choosing to stay together for the kids had. Like it or not, those years affect us to this day and will continue to affect us for better or worse. We can get therapy, we can estrange ourselves from the people that hurt us or we can choose to remain in a situation where those people still hurt us, but no matter what we choose it will still play a role who we are. Because those years have made us who we are. Some of us hold out hope that our parents will open their eyes and realize how they have hurt us and apologize for everything and change their ways. Some of know the possibility of reconciliation or is always there, maybe even just a phone call or a Facebook message away, but others know it can never happen because that parent is dead and gone. But eventually we all make our choice about how to handle the things that happened to us in childhood.
I can front all I want about not knowing my father but a handful (maybe) of those closest to me know it does weigh on me occasionally, especially as I try to navigate my way through fatherhood. It's not a gigantic void in my life but it is a void made worse by the fact that there will never be any chance of a resolution. No reality television-esque reunion where he turns up crying and says he's been wanting to be a part of my life for the past 31 years but forces beyond his control prevented it from happening. No random phone call with some stranger on the other end of the line telling me he's my father and he wants to meet me. Hell, we already had that call when I was a kid and he did meet me and then he promptly made his exit. Guess I wasn't what he expected or worth getting to know or something. It was a form of rejection, and I remember my feelings being terribly hurt by it at the time (although I didn't tell anybody), but I did get over it. In the scheme of things, he was around for a blink and you miss it part of my life. He wasn't there for the first 7 years, he wasn't there for the next 21 and then he wasn't a part of this world in general after he passed. It shouldn't bother me so much that he came around for five minutes when I was a kid and then took off again. And the adult version of me knows that. But the kid in me is still bothered by it. And I hate that. Because it's not worth the time or the energy. It only crosses my mind occasionally and when it does, I write. A lot. But then I immediately go back and delete it and move on.
I think the one thing that does divide those of us who knew both parents and those of us who didn't is very simple. It's the little things. Knowing what traits and genetics you got from someone. Knowing the little quirks that they had and whether you have any of them in common. I think the void has as much to do with that as it does the rejection I felt as a kid. In a perfect world, your parents are the two people in life who will do anything for you and love you unconditionally and never reject you. In the modern world, that's not the case a lot of the time. People leave. They walk away and they don't look back and they don't care if they're turning their back on their own child. Or people are taken from us in a different way, not one of their own choosing. But either way, when that happens and you're young (or if you only "knew" them briefly as was the case for me) you miss out on so much. A friend of mine lost their father when they were young and I know how much it affected them, and still affects them. But that loss has made them who they are. And they have their siblings and their mother to tell them what they inherited and what their father was like. And I'm very happy they do because I know it provides at least a tiny bit of solace. But I'll never have any of that. It's been 24 years since that day our father took us out to eat and we sat in his car while he talked to mom. 24 years since she sat us down at a park and said, "Your father is a musician and you get your love of music from him and you have his hair and his skin tone". And to this day, that's all I know about him. I don't know any of his quirks, I don't know anything about the music he loved, or what motivated him to become a musician. And I never will. And sometimes that kills. But I hope that those without an absent, or completely absent, parent realize how lucky they are to know some of that stuff. Where they got certain traits, what they do just like one of their parents. Even if they don't like that they have it in common, they should still appreciate that they have the privilege of knowing. So I guess there really is no answer to my question of whether it's better to know a terrible parent or not know one at all because they chose to be absent. Well all lose something either way.

Family-Isms

Aunt: You think I don't know what you're talking about. I know current stuff.
[Pause]
Aunt: I know that up here song.
Me: What?
Aunt: I'm losing my mind.
Me: I concur. What up here song?
Aunt [In a flat out rap]: Ya'll gonna make me lose my mind up in here, up in here
Cousin [20 mins later after we all stopped laughing our asses off]: Mom, that song is like a decade old.
Aunt: I still owned it.
=============================================
While watching the chick channel.

Cousin: What is this?
Me: That guy looks like Abraham Lincoln
Cousin: Four score...
Cousin's Wife: It's a story about the Amish
Me: Abraham Lincoln wasn't Amish.
Cousin's Wife: I know Abraham Fucking Lincoln wasn't Amish!
Me: I don't think that was his middle name either.

(Violence ensues)

Whoa There, College

Me: Now you and I have both dated professors
Me: Look at us, bringing down those who have worked hard to get ahead
Her: LOL