Beer and Boners Should Never Go To Waste.

I guess I shouldn’t JUST complaint about dating. I mean, there have been more than enough stories for me to share about that, don’t get me wrong, but maybe I should also mention the circumstances that have occurred while I was IN a relationship.

I used to be one of those for “better or worse” no matter what folks. Didn’t matter that my partner at the time got himself arrested at one point, thought it was OK to do drugs in the home where his children lived and didn’t share my viewpoint on what being faithful meant. By no means did I turn a blind eye to all that, I made my disgust known but for the most part he knew I was there for the long haul.

During this particular relationship, a dear friend of mine was having his 45th birthday party and I wasn’t missing it for the world. He and his supporting cast of characters are a sight to behold all on their own. Add alcohol to the mix? Hang on because it’s gonna be a wild ride!

The problem was I didn’t have a sitter so my partner was kind enough to drop me off and let me stay until I got my fill and then agreed to come and get me when I was done so I wouldn’t have to drive. I thought this was particularly nice of him. Come to find out later, of course, my ex had ulterior motives.

He instructed my friend to make sure I ALWAYS had a full beer in my hand and that a shot or two here and there wouldn’t hurt either. My ex hadn’t gotten some in quite awhile (from me at least) and I guess he figured if he got me tipsy that I would let my guard down. (Now don’t get me wrong, I LOVE sex and don’t normally have to be plied with alcohol or anything else to get me in the mood but when the person you’re with is screwing ANYONE who will take him up on his offer, I tend to get turned off. Besides why should I give you the PLEASURE of being with me when any cheap whore will do?)

So drink I did, and drink and drink and drink. All the way up until the phone call was made to my ex that it was time to come and get me. I was pushed toward the direction of the car, buckled into the passenger seat and sent off to do the deed. Things were going well. I managed to get in the house, get undressed and into the bed. My ex, very excited about this aspect got into bed with me and started touching me….. when I promptly sat up and ran for the toilet.

I was ILL. The room started spinning and things were not so settled in my stomach as they had been just a few minutes before. I’m sure, as most of you can guess at this point I spent most of the night and some of the next morning on the bathroom floor praying for death.

Since that fateful night I have learned some very valuable lessons. I now know when enough is enough. I have found a fool proof way to cure a hangover. And I have learned that a man with a nasty trick up his sleeve will always get his in the end.

As for still believing in the “for better or worse” thing? It took me a really long time once that relationship ended but all in all I still do. It’s just gonna have to be a whole lot more better and a heck of a lot less worse.

Any takers?

Going Off the Deep End

If I really stop to think about it, if I really go back and dust off the corners of my mind, I would have to say that I have never liked dating. I don’t like the stress. The wondering if he will call, the trying to remember if I have already worn this outfit, the questioning myself “when he meets my crazy family is he going to run away screaming “and of course why are all the idiots attracted to me? Take this story for example…

I go back to my time in school and the lazy days of summer where every year I looked forward to going to summer camp. This one particular year a new family had moved into town and their sons would be off to summer camp with the rest of us.

Now “Bubba” all on his own was not tragic, but when you put him together with his two brothers they gave off a weird vibe. Like, if you were to ever make out with one of them the other two would be in the closet watching. Maybe they would just giggle and whisper to one another but more likely they would be in there whacking off. In any instance, I wasn’t going to go there. Unfortunately for me, the rumor was that Bubba had a crush on me. I avoided him as much as I could but when we took the trip to camp, things took a turn.

Apparently Bubba decides that he’s going to take advantage of his time at camp with all the long hot nights and start himself a summer romance. Word got back to me that he wanted me to meet him at the boat dock one evening after dark. Presumably to set the mood for our first kiss. I made up my mind that I wasn’t going. I thought that would be a pretty good signal that I wasn’t interested. All my friends kept pushing me though, telling me to at least meet him. I didn’t want to go, but peer pressure got the best of me. I was in the process of trying to think of any excuse I could to not meet him when suddenly, I had an idea…

I met Bubba at the appointed time and humor him with a few minutes of small talk. Make him think that I am interested. It takes awhile but he finally gets the courage to try and kiss me. He closes his eyes and moves in when “WHAM” I push that sucker right off the dock.

Now I see you, sitting there reading this and just chuckling to yourself. Imagining the splash of the water and the surprise look on his face. But that’s not how it goes down. Oh no, there is no actual water under the dock. It’s dry and instead of a splash there is a thud, and a quiet groan. I lean over the dock to where the ball of dust is rising from the impact and I tell Bubba from now on he better leave me alone. Shockingly he doesn’t argue back and I go grinningly happily back to my cabin and get a great night’s sleep.

Thankfully Bubba doesn’t bother me again and somehow I also manage to not get into trouble. I guess Bubba didn’t really want anyone to know he got his ass handed to him by a girl. I spend the next few days happily not worrying about boys or their silly little games.

Then just a few days later “Jud” walks around the corner and for me its love at first sight. Sigh... Bring on the next victim….

Breakin it down

Ah, the perils of dating. I have told many a story about my experiences and why I hate starting a new relationship. What maybe I haven’t made clear however is that I also hate being single. There are SOME perks to having a shoulder to cry on, a willing ear to listen and maybe even someone to watch out for me when I don’t quite know what I am doing.

Growing up I was lucky enough to have my dad around. He was a tinkerer. He had a garage full of gadgets and I would get to help him with his projects from time to time, so I know my way around a toolbox. I can even run a power tool or two. When it comes to cars however… Count me out.

I’m not so helpless as to not be able to change my own tire or anything like that; I just don’t deal with the mechanics of the whole thing. That’s one of the things men are good for. (I’m not bashing females that can wrench, if you’re into that, you go girl!)

I’m driving along one day, minding my own business when my car decides it’s time to give me some trouble. It’s sputtering, chugging and for the most part refusing my sheer will just to make it home. I manage it get it into a parking lot when the power steering gives out and the car decides that it is done. I call a tow truck and have it hauled home. Where it sits and collects pollen.

It sits in my drive way because I, the person who has no clue about engines or their inner workings, have decided that it has a major issue and won’t be able to be fixed cheap. So I walk to work. Day in and day out. Through the rain, the ridiculous Florida heat, dogs chasing me down the road and yes, even once tripping over my own feet.

One fine day when I arrive at work one of the other employees asks me, what the HELL is the matter with your car? I tell her I have no idea, but whatever it is, I can’t afford to fix it. She tells me that she is going to send her husband to my house to look at it and let me know what is going on. I am sooo excited. I am just praying to myself that whatever it is will be easy on my budget and I won’t have to suffer the commute by foot anymore.

He’s at my house not too long when he calls his wife and tells her to please let me know that there is a hole on the side of the car where you put gas and that makes the car go. WTF? You mean to tell me that I have been haulin my fat ass to work for SEVEN months because my friggin car didn’t have any damn gas? You have got to be kidding me! OMG, I am so embarrassed.

So my prayers are answered, I put gas in the car and off I go again. This should be the happy ending to the story. But, oh no. NOT me. It happens again! You would think the second time that I would have realized that it’s the gas issue but sadly, I do not. So once again my co-workers very patient hubby goes over and looks at it. Laughs his ass off and tells me that I might want to replace the gas gauge because no matter what I do, the car is always going to need gas to run.

Ok, so I’m an idiot. Maybe if I HAD a steady boyfriend I wouldn’t have had to go through all that nonsense. Of course walking to work to work for seven months probably did me some good. Who knows how big my ass would be if I hadn’t gone through that experience!

Waxing and Wayne-ing Part 2

Continued from Waxing & Wayne-ing Part I

For months and months after “Wayne’s” sudden departure I went through the motions of life but was never really “alive.” Being a single parent who once again was alone, I knew I had to get up in the morning, go to work, come home, and make sure the kids had stuff to eat, but that was it. That was all I did. Then one day I walked into my garage and woke up.

It was that day that I realized all his “stuff” was still there. Neatly boxed and ready to be moved whenever he was ready. But this day was different. I was ready for it to be moved. Five months was long enough. I didn’t really NEED the space in my garage for anything in particular but I NEEDED the space back in my head… and my heart.

I placed a call to his mother to arrange a time for him to come pick up his things. She called me back with a date and time and the plan was set in motion.

The day comes; I open my garage and wait for him to show up knowing my heart is going to leap out of my chest when the doorbell rings. But it never does. No. He instead walks right in. Like he still lives there, grabs me, holds onto me, starts to cry and tells me he loves me. My eyes fill with tears and I am completely speechless.

He walks around for a few minutes and looks at things but doesn’t say a word. I can’t help but wonder what is going through his head. I suggest that we move along and load up his truck. We head to the garage, I open the door and there stands his step-son. WOW! Now that takes balls! And here after all this time, him leaving me to clean up his mess I thought he didn’t have any left. Guess I was wrong. Especially after I had been so kind, NOT cussing him out, NOT setting his shit on fire on the front lawn like EVERYONE told me to do and storing his things for him all this time, he has the nerve to show up with his new wife’s kid. I decide to be the bigger person and I hold my tongue.

First load of stuff is in the truck & he tells me he’ll see in a few minutes to grab the rest. He never does come back. I call his mother later that evening to let her know that he has until 2:00 the next day to get the rest of his things or they are being donated. During this call she asks me if Wayne seemed quiet and if he walked around the house when he was there. Weird. I tell her as a matter of fact he did. Why? She said he told her that he was thinking. Wondering to himself if he really made the right decision.

I know for me at least, once I say “I do” that’s sort of the nail in the coffin for any other previous/potential relationships I might have had but I guess not everyone thinks the same.

2:00 the next day comes and goes. I make a phone call to a friend who brings his truck, in the pouring rain, no questions asked and helps me load it all up and take it away. 3:00 the phone rings. It’s Wayne. Too little too late. I never do answer the phone. I don’t need to nor do I want to.

I know at that moment I am free and a smile comes to my face.

Of course at that time I had NO idea what was waiting for me in the world of dating. If I had only known then what I know now…..