Not My Problem

His sister contacted me a couple of days ago. No one has heard from him in over a month, she tells me. It didn’t make sense. I just threw a grenade on the remnants of our relationship two weeks ago. I’d refused his demands about that really important letter and he disappeared from my life.

And apparently everyone else’s life.

I told her I had no idea and the last I heard he’d found a new victim chick in Akron. I wondered how she got my contact information, but I didn’t ask. The situation was already awkward, She asked for this chick’s name. I don’t know. This is almost all third-hand. We don’t speak anymore. I explained that my brother-in-law1 saw him two weeks ago when he picked up his tools from the job site. I began to worry about him. To panic. His sister had gotten the police involved and was contacting (probably) hundreds of people looking for him. He really is missing. I wanted to find out if he was ok.  I was polite to her and offered my help. She thanked me and that was that. My people all had the same thing to say about it: Not your problem.

They’re right. He has some serious issues2 and he very well could be holed up somewhere with a new supply. He may be ghosting – trying to run from all the ways he’s fucked up his life recently. He may be in a flop house with a needle in his arm. Any of that can possibly be true. He is a very sick man and it would very much be in character for him to just disappear like this. He’s mad at his baby’s mom so he’s punishing her. I have little doubt that’s she’s panicking more than I. She has been in his orbit too long. She is still very happy to be his main supply. And disappearing to cause her pain would be something he absolutely would do. I am lucky that I got away from him so soon and there are no children to tie us together. I’m a lot luckier than she is.

I’ve been reading about Narcissistic Personality Disorder. The actual disorder not people who have just never learned humility. There are two kinds of malignant narcissists – overt and covert. When people hear about NPD they assume overt. That’s not the case here. With the help of my therapist, I learned that MyDude is (most probably) a covert narcissist. As I read about it I was re-traumatized. I was shocked. He fit the bill to a tee – grooming, devaluation, triangulating, the traumatic discard, the hoovering. But he wasn’t all bold and brash. He is quiet and always inside of his own head. And he preyed on my need to matter to someone. He saw me vulnerable and, sadly, I put myself right in his path. He played me like a finely tuned instrument. I was an object he sucked dry – and discarded when he could get nothing else from me. There is no difference between me and every other woman in his harem. We were simply supply for his disorder. That was devastating to learn. He was nothing more a drug to me, too. In the end I was simply addicted to the swirl of chemicals in my head. That “connection” that he played and perverted. My counselor explained that I was behaving like a cocaine addict. That was painful to hear, but true.

Everything that I thought was a “sign” of some sort was actually intentionally engineered by him to trigger my desire to matter to someone. I couldn’t stand to see him suffer. But why? It was most certainly pathological. And he made sure it was. He made sure to muddle my fucking brain and warp it to his benefit. And it worked until my cognitive dissonance3 was so painful I could no longer ignore it. I often refer to my logical and emotional selves (as if I sit outside of them) fighting. That made me crazy. I fought against myself and a monster was created. I wanted to hurt him as much as he hurt me. I said and did miserable things to achieve that goal. I saw it, but the compulsion to hurt him overwhelmed me. He was in my head and it drove me around the bend. I still have not recovered. I’m addicted to the chemical mix that he causes in my brain – that’s why I was so sensitive to his touch. Why I needed  just to be physically close to him. I know that now. At the time I had no idea that was even possible. How the fuck is that even possible?!

Covert Narcissists dangle their vulnerability in front of you as bait, just waiting for your good nurturing mothering/fathering instincts to kick in and rescue the poor little lost child they are presenting to you.
As soon as you reach out a helping hand, their jaws snap shut on you.

We fall for the projected idealised image of the person the covert narcissist wishes they could be but knows in their hearts they are not. This is the person they NEED to convince others they are in order to foster narcissistic supply.

Clients would tell me the person was “not my usual type” or “I didnt even find them attractive at first”.
Yes, because they are NOT your type. But they are smart enough to know what you are looking for at the level of your core values and mold themselves to appear to represent that whilst provoking as much sympathy in you for them as they can.

But beneath the mask of a shy, vulnerable and “good person” something far more sinister lurks.

And this what makes covert narcissism so damaging and dangerous: the nature of the disorder is such that you are brainwashed into thinking you are dealing with a human being with a morality, perhaps even a “pillar of the community”.

This is frequently a part of the covert narcissists fantasy: the misunderstood but kind, caring genius/ guru that the foolish world cruelly victimises.

If the target is tricked into believing the FALSE narrative that this person is a vulnerable victim they are left suspecting  that the manipulations, insults, transgressions and abuses they experienced CAN’T be real …right?

Forced into a split reality, one in which the person is as vulnerable and victimised as they wish you to believe and the other in which you see shadowy, fleeting signs of something else entirely :

– a social chameleon who would wear a completely different identity depending on who they were talking to
– a sneaky, underhanded way of operating in the world that ONLY those closest to them ever get a glimpse of
– a person whose actions RARELY match their words!

This leads to crushing feelings of frustrating isolation as you feel like you are the only one on the planet who can see this gaping disparity in the person and it’s impossible to explain to anyone not experiencing the abuse directly. [source]

 

My ego was hit hard as my cognitive dissonance choked me. I did not understand this while it was happening. I did not see him for what he really is. I did not see. I truly thought we had a connection. I honestly thought he loved me (because he said so, right?). I thought he was just afraid of his feelings and that he also loved her. I kept asking “Why is this happening between him and me? How is he doing this to me?” I know now. Part of me is still holding onto the delusion, but I’m better prepared to fight against that thinking. I know what happened now. I was addicted to those fucking chemicals. I still am a little bit. I’m ashamed of how he worked me. But I need to tell this particular story. My stormy relationship with him really killed any sort of confidence I had when I met him. He stole that from me4.

When his sister contacted me I panicked. I was immediately worried that he was dead. Then, after I explained to her that I didn’t know anything, I got control of myself. I am angry at him for doing this to his sister. And I have no doubt this isn’t the first time. I’m angry that I care and want to help. I’m angry that his nonsensical behavior bothers me at all. He’s not worth it. He’s not my problem. He is broken. Forever. I feel bad for his sister and every other person in his life that loves him.

I’ve lost quite a bit of my spirituality during this entire mess. Everything I’ve held onto since my son died has basically rotted away during this process. Some folks (who share my beliefs) have suggested that this was a lesson for me. Never trust anyone? Never let anyone get close? What the fuck kind of lesson was this? Give me a break. He is broken, empty and basically a demon. That’s no fucking lesson. So, that belief has been expelled. The only reason we came together was sheer dumb luck. Bad for both us. I really can’t blame or credit anything spiritual. It just happened. He just happened. 

Fixing myself after this (because I do see how fucked up I am) has been a challenge. Just taking time to heal has been a challenge. The people in my life don’t understand. So many people jump from relationship to relationship or they have been in the same relationship for decades. They can’t see what I’m doing is ultimately a good thing and will make me better. I’m annoying and too introspective. Whatever. But do I want to risk another relationship like that one? I don’t think I want to take that risk. Seeing what I am capable of has really shocked me. I need that to never happen again. I need to learn to kill those compulsions. I need to learn skills to keep part of me (the devil part) from ever coming out again. I will never be free from that horrible part of me, but I can learn to control it. This isn’t about him and me anymore. This is now about my learning, understanding, and healing.

I hope they find him safe and alive. I do. But I’m not going to help them. This is not my problem.

 

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

  1. Who got him this great job that, by the way. []
  2. I know I do too. []
  3. and my own pathological illness. []
  4. This relationship wasn’t normal. The breakup wasn’t normal. I am trying to heal instead of jumping into another relationship that may hurt me. I am analyzing myself so that this never happens to me again. []

His Fate In My Hands, etc

A funny thing happened yesterday. First, I found out that MyDude was talking about what he did to me at a party. Apparently it was hilarious. The person1 who mentioned this, though, said he “did you so dirty. He’s dirty as fuck.” So it’s obvious to me that person wasn’t impressed by what he heard. But who knows what he said to MyDude truthfully. He could’ve been egging him on. People are stupid and petty and love this sort of gossip. It’s juicy to see other people suffer. So, when I got home I was fuming about what I’d heard. I was also fighting with TheMan, which is nothing new, and I was ragey. I was just in a really bad mood.

I get my mail and what do I see? Well, well, well. A letter for MyDude. I look at the sender. Oh my2. It’s very serious. I know it’s serious without even opening it. I just stared at it for like 5 minutes. I had all these thoughts were screaming at me like little demons. Here was something so perfect, so absolutely cosmic. It was so delicious. I had his fate literally in my hands. If I threw this away or did a “Return to Sender” or called the number I knew was inside then his world would blow up. Very badly, as our orange buffoon president would say. I actually laughed pretty hard. How fucking perfect was this? I didn’t have to wait for Karma to balance anything out. The gods delivered his fate into my hands. The person he took such advantage of, the person he so unceremoniously discarded, the person whose life he infected like a parasite. This person who he hurt so tremendously was now holding something that would cause more harm to him than just some financial difficulties or heartache. I could destroy his life. I could make him suffer for a long time.

So, I sat with it. I thought about it. I considered my options. Then I asked for advice from a small group of folks who knew what he’d done. No one bothered to advise me because they knew what I was going to do anyway. They knew I wouldn’t choose to ignore it or return it or call the number on the inside. They knew that I couldn’t destroy someone’s life like that. Not just because it was Andy, but because I could never do that to anyone. No matter how bad they fucked me over. I’m not that kind of person.

Lil Miss told me “You have a choice. The gods gave you a choice and I think it’s a test.”((Arguing about our spirituality is a waste of time, by the way. We believe what we believe.)) A test. What kind of person did he create? Was I so bitter and angry that I could do that to him? I know a lot of women who would happily dial that number and spill the beans. I know plenty of people who would just return to sender and watch his world burn. Plenty of people who would throw it in the garbage and not tell a soul. I am probably really stupid because I was just lamenting that it was unfair how smoothly he got away and he was able to joke about what he did to me and my life. He was laughing at me and now I could exact sweet, sweet revenge. Here was my chance right? But it’s a test. It’s a fork in the road. Which way to go down?

I chose to email him, of course.

“I’m holding your karma in my hand right now. Isn’t that funny?

I was deciding what to do here. I could call and talk to them and give them [her] address or return to sender stating you no longer live here or just let it sit here and do nothing. That’s what you deserve. But the gods gave me a choice – let him be fucked or be me.

I decided to be me. It’s a letter from [].”

And I attached a picture.

I don’t wish him well at all. I don’t hope that they find happiness and that their lives are forever fruitful. I am not that good of a person. I hope they break up and she finds a new man and he is absolutely miserable because of it. I hope he loses his fucking hoopty car. I hope his dick falls off.

But I don’t have it in me to facilitate any of that. It’s totally unfair that the universe is helping him so much but I’m sitting here struggling with all of this change alone… It’s just unfair. It’s unfair that TheMan is walking away and about to get happily re-married while I’m sitting here… I hate all of it and wish horrible things upon both of their eyeballs. I want to be one of those women that doesn’t give a shit what happens to the motherfuckers who hurt her. But I’m not. I’m not like that and it pisses me off.

I had a choice and what if it was a test? What if I failed and I was supposed to kick him straight in the balls? I ask myself that while feeling like I did the right thing. I feel like I did what I supposed to do in that situation – regardless of my desire to just be completely evil and terrible. There are some lines I can’t cross. It drives me bonkers. Moral compass and all that shit.

So, I told him this letter came. I sent from my old email as well as the one he has – just in case he actually and finally blocked me this time. And I asked his coworker to please tell him he’d better check his email. Then I went online and filled out a change of address form for him. He doesn’t need to get any more anything at my house. I know why he didn’t change the address to her house, but I don’t give a fuck. He lives with her now. She can clean up his shit. I’ve done what I needed to do to get the message to him. Now I’m washing my hands. And throwing away this letter. He knows who it’s from. He can call them. Fuck it.

Update:
He emailed me back:
“Look just open it and tell me what it says”

No “thanks for the heads up”, no “please”, no “I know it’s a bother, but can you…” Nope. Just a demand. Because I’m me and he’s him and that’s how our dynamic is supposed to work, right? After everything that has transpired I’m supposed to just do what he demands.

I apologize. I’ve been through so much of your bullshit that I’m now blind and cannot read. Sorry.

I still have not responded with the information he wants. He can say the magic words like any 3 year-old learning to navigate society.

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

  1. An interested 3rd party who doesn’t even like me. []
  2. I won’t tell who it’s from. []

I’m Trained to Serve?

When MyDude and I were still living together I would do his laundry with mine. It made sense, so why not? At one point he got really pissed at me for doing it. He said “I know you were probably trained to do that but I can do my own laundry.” It seems like a silly thing to remember, but I found myself thinking about it when I was with a friend the other day.

I have worked with the public since I was able to get my first job. I was trained to be observant and to do my job silently before someone needed something. The glass is empty? Bring the refill without being asked. Someone dropped something? Pick it up for them without being asked. Impress people by seeing what they need before they realize they need it. I’m good at that because I’ve been doing it my entire life.

And, yes, it creeps into my personal life. You have dirty clothes right there and I’m doing laundry? In they go. You need a place to sit? Have my seat. You’re hungry? Eat before me, even if you don’t leave enough for me. I’m good with that. I don’t even think about doing it, really. Well, I haven’t before recently. Not even when Andrew said it that one time. I’m trained, yes. But not by TheMan. TheMan just benefited from something I was already conditioned to do.

My counselor is trying to get me to stop being so conciliatory. Now, I seem like the biggest bitch in my section of BFE. Maybe that’s true. But I will bend over backwards and sideways to do for the people I care about. And this has caused an avalanche of problems for me. I find myself being taken advantage of all the time. Especially by close family members. They know I can’t say no. So, I’m working on that. I’m being very conscious of boundaries. Saying no. It really pisses people off. My people are angry with me, not speaking to me and… Because I say no now and I’m firm. And people in my life don’t know how to handle that.

They wanted me to be me again. But they didn’t want my servitude to change. I’m a pushover. I want everyone to be happy. I want to see people smile. I want them to know they can depend on me. They want me available to them whenever they need something. Now I’m not always available. Now I’m a bitch. Now I’m selfish. Now I’m worthless.

It’s frustrating. This is a huge turning point in my life and most of my problems now are because I’ve done too much for people when I needed help my damned self. Now I’m saying no. And I feel guilty for doing it. Though it does kind of feel better that I don’t have that extra weight on my shoulders. Sure, none of them will help me move, but that’s ok. I’ll figure it out.

I did some research to see what my psychosis is. I’ve decided that I don’t have one or if I do then it’s a manageable one. I want to please people. I want them to be happy with me, to make them laugh, to give them good memories. I don’t want to see anyone suffer and would rather take that burden on myself than see someone else go through it. I don’t want to see someone cry or be afraid or frustrated. Let me carry that burden for you. I’m used to it, right? Give it to me. And they do. Then I get pissed. Because I’m an asshole. Is that a psychosis?

I have an issue with boundaries and now that I’m setting them it’s causing even more problems. MyDude thought I was properly “trained” by TheMan. I was to a certain degree1. He was amazed that I would do anything for him and it pissed him off. He thought I was doing it so that he would be in my debt. That’s not true at all. I just wanted to make him happy – I want to make everyone in my life happy if I can. That’s a bad thing the way I do it. Everyone in my life is pissed at me and I’m over here shrugging. Oh well, my people, this is the me everyone missed. Welcome back, JJ.

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

  1. TheMan was surprisingly controlling and I was a willing victim. []

We Had a 4th of July Party

My 4th of July this year was phenomenal. I took Lil’lady, my sister and Lil’lady’s friends to my best friend’s house1. She lives on 2 acres just outside of town. It’s a gorgeous property. Anyway, it was a party so there was lots of food and drink. And, of course, Biff invited a dude over – just in case.

Well, I wasn’t interested in that dude at all, but I had a great time anyway. We ate; I had a long convo with Biff’s mother-in-law about how much Trump sucks and what we’re going to do when he brings the apocalypse; the kids went swimming; and everyone (except the kids) had some drink. So, in the evening the guys decided to be stupid and build their own fireworks.

Biff’s friend used to be Amish, so he knows how to make bullets and has his own gun powder. They stuffed little pieces of pvc pipe and went down by the creek to set them off. They were freaking loud. One of them threw plastic over to where we were sitting. I suppose someone should have been angry and got after them, but we were having fun and isn’t there supposed to be booms? Then they brought out the fireworks and it was great. They added some gun powder to a tube and they shot pretty far. I don’t know exactly what they were doing as they’re crazy hillbilly men2 and I didn’t want to ask. There was one time where things were iffy and that was when the tube couldn’t take anymore and a big display actually went off only 3 feet in the air. It was pretty but scared the shit out of us. Then we discovered everyone was fine and laughed about it.

After that they lit the bonfire. They had a pile of trees that they’d cleared from the back acre3. And I think there may have been a bed in there. I’m not sure. It was a pretty fire. The kids stopped swimming and took marshmallows down there. Biff has MS, so she can’t walk very far so we got in a golf cart and drove down there. That was an adventure in itself because it was dark, there are no lights on the cart and we had to go over a small bridge (that was meant for a tractor). Because I couldn’t see I was trying to follow the dog, who was happily leading the way. The problem? Moto (his name) is a black Lab. So, it was fun watching him dodge in and out of the shadows. As you can tell, we made it safely. We did so well we decided to drive all over the property. Because why not? We had a merry time. I believe there was a discussion on what would happen if we went off the bridge. It’s a small drop into a small creek and I decided I would save us both. Luckily we didn’t find out what would happen.

Biff had invited a lot of people, but, sadly, most of them didn’t show up. She and her husband used to have magnificent parties – complete with a band and open bar. People used to love going out there. But then she and her husband would fight. And fight. And do stupid shit. People would feel uncomfortable. For a while, he hated me and would torment me until I’d leave or we’d get into a fight. One year he shot freaking bottle rockets at me and the kids. Anyway, that kind of stuff made a lot of people uncomfortable so they stopped coming out. No one wants to see that.

But since Biff’s MS has progressed her husband has mellowed out. A lot. He’s very gentle with her and doesn’t argue at all. So it’s been nice to go out. Of course, he still agitates me sometimes, but I shut him down pretty quickly. I’m not fighting with him. He has to deal with me whether he likes it or not. Sadly, now no one comes when she sends invites. And that really hurts her feelings. Where is everyone? A few people kept saying they were coming last night but they never showed up. So, she deactivated her Facebook and decided she hates them all. Since she doesn’t leave her house much anymore the parties are the only social interaction she gets (aside from me and her sisters – who didn’t come either). I imagine folks were worried about her husband losing his shit last night. I wanted to tell everyone not to worry, but I didn’t want to tell her why folks don’t care to come out anymore. I have no idea how to go about all that. I’m pretty upset for her. She really wanted a lot of people to come.

In other news, I’ve decided I like being single. I have no one to answer to except my immediate family and the law. No man to worry about pissing off when I’m out having fun. No one to check in with. No one to cheat on me or to use me or play with my head. I don’t know how long I’ll love being single but it could be a long time. The last time I ended a long-term relationship I stayed single for 6 years. I had friends and lovers, but never, ever let anyone claim me. And I never pretended to be loyal to anyone. Everyone I dated knew I was dating other people. I loved being single. Until I met TheMan and decided to stop being so wild. I’d forgotten how wonderful being on my own really is. TheMan, of course, jumped right into another relationship and is worried about getting married when her divorce is final. I think that’s hilarious. I have no plans to ever get married again and am seriously considering just staying single and just having friends again. Why not?

I’m going out to dinner on Friday with one guy and, I think, the drive-in on Saturday with another. Also, I’ll be going to a baseball game with another dude that I know from work. This way I won’t get attached to anyone like I did with MyDude and I’ll still have fun. I have my walls back up and stronger than before. A guy that can get through my barrier will be a keeper, but I don’t think I’ll find anyone interested in trying for a while. I was weak with MyDude, I’ll admit. That’s not happening anymore. I’m a strong woman and I’ll be damned if someone does anything like he did to me again. I hate being miserable so I’ll pass on that thankyouverymuch.

And now I’m off to the gym. Not to make myself beautiful for anyone except myself. I’m determined to make this a fantastic summer.

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

  1. I call her Biff, for BFF. Deal. []
  2. Right and proper. []
  3. Biff is going to build her own vineyard. That should be funny. []

He Asked About Me

His friend asked about me. This particular friend and I don’t like each other at all. He wanted to know how I’m doing. But he asked Lil Miss and she wasn’t falling for it. Apparently, she told this guy that MyDude did me dirty and I’m doing better without him. He also told her that MyDude is living with his baby’s mom. Of course he is. I knew that even as he vehemently denied it.

I wonder how she would like to know who he was calling when he had my phone. She doesn’t care, I guess. He’s done her dirty for years and she welcomes him back happily after every time he runs off with someone else (me, for example). He can’t live on his own and she’s his safest bet. They deserve each other.

I’m angry that he was asking about me though. He has no right to any information about me. He has no right to look into my life and get any satisfaction from my pain. I wish many bad things upon him for that. I want my karma to chase him down and set his life on fire. He doesn’t deserve to know about me. He doesn’t deserve to be happy at all.

The utter gall of him sending someone to ask after me. What a piece of work. What an asshole. I should tell her. But I won’t. Fuck him.

I wish she hadn’t told me about that conversation. I wish I didn’t know about his curiosity. He rode away to be with someone so toxic that she stays drunk and has a restraining order against him. I hope they’re both miserable.

On a lighter note, I’m going back on the dating app. I’m lonely and those guys are thirsty. Might as well have some fun as a singleton.

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

Me of the No-Booty Clan

I’ve lost a lot of weight since all of these life changes began. And with that I’ve lost inches. In fact, when I met MyDude in December 2016 I was in a size 11. I’m now in a size 3. Of course, the primary cause of this crazy shrinkage is stress. But also because I’ve been weening myself off of my medications1. So, I’m shrinking and that’s supposed to be a good thing.

Well, at one point not long before we finally broke up for good, MyDude decided to joke that I’m “No-booty Jen”. I wasn’t amused at the time, but decided to see if I could fix that. I did squats every day until the day he drove off. Then I stopped. Fuck it. What was the point? I had bigger worries on my mind than the fact that my ass wasn’t up to par. Blech.

Then I met this other guy recently. He’s the same one I wasn’t feeling. But I decided to answer his call one more time. Just to see if I was being an asshole because of the walls that I’d thrown up after MyDude’s departure. I mean, it’s possible, right? Plus I was bored and missing assface. I do stupid shit when I’m bored and missing him. Maybe a rebound would be ok. Just to take the edge off.

So, I go out with this guy one more time. We’re having a good convo and some laughter. I’m reserved because I’m looking for something to prove myself wrong (or right). I was observing him and trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. Ultimately, I gave in and did what I wanted to do. Should I have? Doesn’t matter. I do what I want and I wanted to do it then. We’d had a conversation about not being friends with benefits. He didn’t want that, he said. I don’t want that, I said. Good. It was agreed. Except maybe I wasn’t as serious as I should’ve been. I have no idea what I want right now and have no idea if I’ll ever be able to open up enough to let someone close again. I’m basically going with the flow. But it gets funny.

This one isn’t going to win any beauty awards. He’s a lot shorter than MyDude2 and a lot less strong. I noticed that right away. I’ve got my preferences, people. And he’s a lot plumper in the mid-region. I don’t really care about that, but this guy won’t be in a magazine at any point in time. He’s maybe just above average. I was initially interested in him because of his musical tastes and his sense of humor. That other shit really won’t make much of a difference if I decide to take another lover at any time. So, anyway…

This guy slaps my backside and remarks “Man, you have no butt.” It was a blaring alarm in my head. Body shaming right then? It didn’t make a lot of sense to me as he seemed to like my body well enough 10 minutes prior. I felt myself cut him off right then. Done, dude. I refrained from mentioning his paunch or his hairline or how he doesn’t stack up to a certain someone I might still miss. No reason to do a tit for tat. I already knew what I was going to do. No more chances. He was lucky that I even gave in to my base urges with him. Holy shitballs, was he lucky. Now, I already know that I don’t possess that juicy booty that is all the rage. I’ve accepted that. I figured men who were attracted to me would see that right away and decide if my intelligence, wit and pretty face were worth the effort. I wasn’t expecting all of that nonsense after the fact. Time to go home. I give him the look and out the door I go.

So, that’s it for him for sure. He knew it, too. It must’ve been the look on my face. The gods know I can’t hide my emotions for anything. And, apparently, I have a very unique look when I’m agitated. He’d have seen that whether the words came out of my mouth or not. He hasn’t tried to contact me at all since then. I was wondering if he was trying to ghost on me for a split second3 and then decided I was probably ghosting too. I made no effort to text him either. I’m getting used to this shit at this point.

I’m 44 years old now. I’ve had 3 children and just lost a shit ton of weight. I don’t have a 24 year-old’s body. I can’t afford to pay for the work required to get that body back. And, quite frankly, I’m damned fine just the way I am. No booty? Pfft. Everything works like it should and I’m amazing company. Ok, I used to be amazing company. I may not be so much anymore. MyDude shattered me and I’m pretty sure I’ll be fucked up for a while. Either way, I found a reason to back off without guilt and took it.

I told my counselor I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I have no idea how to date properly and I sure as shit don’t know how to find a good man. I started out with good intentions. My vegan back in November was a good guy and he never saw my crazy side. But he wasn’t into it and I was ultimately fine with that. Then I met MyDude and all the progress I’ve made while married to TheMan went straight the fuck out the window. “Bye! Begone, sanity, I have no use for you!” I let MyDude chase me then I took up the chasing. And we both threw grenades on anything good that might have happened. I told my counselor I don’t want to be that open anymore – ever. I never want to have that connection with anyone ever again. I felt that man in my soul and still had no idea how to deal with any of those emotions. “Be trusting. Be open. Be honest.” None of that shit worked. None of it ever does. So what the fuck is the point?

I think I traumatized him. He started saying something about looking inside myself and I stopped him. “You can tell me to talk myself out of this all you want. But the reality is, sir, I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing and talking to myself has only hurt me. How the fuck do I turn off my brain?”((I’m a serious over-thinker. I will think myself into heartbreak lickety split.)) I will honestly say that I’ve been lonely for a lot of years and I’m sick of it. And after MyDude… I’m sick of risking anything personal for a few minutes of gratitude here and there. Sex is easy. Sex is animalistic and I can completely remove my emotions from it. What I can’t do is figure out how to fix whatever it is I’m doing wrong. What did he tell me then?

“Sit with your feelings for a week. Let them all come to the surface. Then when the time has passed just move on.”

I’m going to try it. But I can pretty much guarantee he was pulling shit out of his ass at that point. The guy is awesome and I really feel comfortable with him. I just don’t think he can quite get a grip on me. I am grateful for him, though. I’m back to writing and that’s a big step. I let it alone for so long. It’s a great relief valve. I’m just still doing shit wrong. “Sure, guy who obviously just wants sex, let’s play that game and pretend it’s not a game at all. Dance, monkey, dance! How’s that feel?” My poor counselor…

What’s that got to do with the original topic? Nothing at all. Except the body shaming thing really pissed me off. I’ve come to the decision that it’s one chance and no more. Done with that. Peace out, buttercup, moving on. This is going to be a long summer.

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

  1. I halved my dosage of Lyrica and that alone causes weight loss, major mood swings, sleeplessness and outbursts of uncontrollable rage. []
  2. A lot of men are. MyDude is 6’4″ and 270lbs. []
  3. Which would be hilarious considering he literally lives 2 blocks from me. []

“I Don’t Get Jealous”

Well, just when I decided whatshisface was starting to grow on me he fucked up. Well, he and his friends fucked up. But he was in the middle of it all and so too bad so sad. I’m not going to to into details about what happened1, but it was really bad. Fuck him. Fuck his friends. Fuck this entire town. That’s all I have to say about that. To them I let my middle finger fly.

I did want to note something funny that this guy said to me. Well, it’s something I hear from every man – including MyDude -and it’s something that is never true2.

“I don’t get jealous. Never. I don’t see the point in it. If a guy can steal the chick I’m with then he can have her.”

Every time I hear this my eye twitches. I know that they believe what they just told me. And maybe they normally don’t get jealous. But it’s usually said to see my reaction and to make sure I won’t flip out if they fuck someone else. And it’s usually proven wrong pretty quickly. MyDude did that shit and it was a disaster. He hated Sam with a passion. The guy before MyDude is literally cyber-stalking me as we speak. The conniving motherfucker just got busted yesterday. He also said he doesn’t get jealous. I also proved him wrong.

Jealousy is a funny emotion in men. Well, what I’ve seen anyway. I like possessive. I like when my menfolk take charge of me while I’m out. I loved when MyDude claimed me in public. I love that. I don’t like the ugly part of it. I don’t like when they pretend that it’s perfectly fine that I’m with another man. I don’t like the explosiveness when they finally realize their little ploy backfired on them. To me it’s a challenge. And a bit insulting. Why would you be ok if I ran off with someone else? Why would it be ok for another man to ease himself into your slot in my life? So I test that. And it’s always bad because I’m a dumbass that is always right. Then, of course, too much damage has been done and POOF! All done.

I’ve only been half-assed talking this new guy. We’ve been out for drinks and fucktardery a couple of times. We kissed. Whatever. Means shit to me. But this guy who doesn’t get jealous has already shown me that he’s not going to do well with me. I told him last night that I couldn’t see him tonight because I have plans. That’s true. Lil’lady’s birthday was yesterday so we’re having a dinner at Millie’s. Afterwards I’m going to my best friend’s house to hang with her. I didn’t tell him all that. I just said I have plans so I can’t see him today at all.

“I have plans tomorrow. IDK. We’ll see what mood I’m in, I suppose. I’m leaning toward no right now.”

His reply?

“No tequila on your date tomorrow” (sent at 2:25am)

Huh. I didn’t mention a date. All I said was I had plans. At this point I’m supposed to explain what my plans are and that I promise I’m not talking to anyone else. Except fuck that. He doesn’t get jealous right? And he’s not may man. Honestly, I barely like the guy. My reply.

“Yeah. That’s hilarious.” And that was that. No more conversation. But I was already pissed at him for something that happened earlier. Furious even. I wanted to punch him straight in his dick. I told him I was angry. I didn’t send him any explanations as to what the exact issue was because he doesn’t matter ultimately. He knew I was pissed about that situation – just not why. At any rate, he hasn’t replied at all. I had told him earlier that I was done with night life in this town and from now on I would party at my house. I very pointedly told him that there was no point in trying to get me to go out. I didn’t flat out tell him to fuck off. This is a situation I’d rather just fade away from.

Earlier he’d asked me about MyDude. I forget what story I was trying to tell, but he interrupted me and said “Is that the guy you’re still in love with?” He wasn’t hearing the story. He wanted to know about MyDude. Well, I don’t want to talk about that with him. Not then. Not now. Maybe not ever. I told him that straight out: “I don’t want to discuss him.” He asked a couple more times. I refused to answer and continued my story. But he didn’t hear me. He wanted to know about his competition. He doesn’t compare, unfortunately, and he’d have known that if I’d have talked about MyDude at all. I wasn’t trying to hurt his feelings, so I refused to discuss it at all. He can read about it here like the other 20 people who come here.

Then after all that drama and bullshit I get a text from some dude who I’ve been texting with every so often. Nothing exciting, mind you. I want to see if he’s interested in getting to know me as a person instead of what’s in my pants. We were doing ok. Then he texts me “hi” and we have a short chat. Then he blows up my phone. This motherfucker sent me multiple dick pics. I’m pretty sure he was masturbating and sending me pictures of it. I became even more furious. The conversation was so mundane “Hi. Wyd?” “Hi back. At the movies with my daughter” “Oh yeah, what are you seeing?” “Wonder Woman” Bam bam bam bam. Dick pics. I know I didn’t even hint that I wanted to see that shit, so I felt violated. Fuck that. Block, block, delete. Bye, sir.

It’s amazing how brazen men become when they find out a woman is single. Guys, we don’t need to see your penis. It’s ugly and probably looks like the other 100 pics we received. Keep it in your pants. Where’s the mystery? Stop being sluts. Blah blah blah. The next one I get is going up in a photo gallery on this blog and I will use your name and photo to identify you. Of course, the ones I’m getting are from Facebook friends and they don’t get to see this blog. But that doesn’t matter to me. I’ll still do it.

So, I want to talk some more about these guys and their whole “I don’t get jealous” nonsense. I’m not concerned about monogamy because I honestly believe humans aren’t meant to be monogamous. I have rules though. I don’t want to know the other woman, I don’t want to know about their adventures and when he’s with me then that’s my time. No phone calls or texts from other women while he’s with me. And, finally, he has to keep control of his situation. I never, ever want to get into a cat fight over a man. I never want to speak with his other women. I don’t want to know their names and they should never know mine. MyDude broke all of those rules, of course. Anyway, these guys say this stuff and so I take them at their word. Then all hell breaks loose.

Guy before MyDude lost his shit because he saw pics of me and him. Then MyDude couldn’t handle me spending time with Sam3. It drove him all the way around the bend. This guy is already questioning me in ways I’m not comfortable with. I literally got divorced that day and have only been broken up with MyDude for a month and some change. Too soon for him to be peeing on the tree4. Maybe I would’ve let him claim me later on if he hadn’t shown himself to be a fucking creep. And I know he will eventually become the jealous boyfriend if I let him. And I’m not letting him.

I think I subconsciously challenge these guys when they tell me that stupid shit. Oh, you don’t get jealous, huh? Let’s test that theory, shall we? There was one dude back in the 90s, before TheMan, who actually didn’t get jealous at all. He was super sexy and very confident – and very much into me. He said he expected guys to hit on me and that it flattered him. And he knew that he was my first pick. At the time, that was true. We had an very unconventional relationship and it worked well for about a year or so. Then he faded away and I didn’t go looking for him. But he would see me in the club flirting and dancing and just watch me. He wouldn’t say anything or make any effort to pee on the tree. He just watched then collected me at the end of the night if I was still available. Sometimes I would sneak off with someone else and he was fine with that. There was no fighting, no suspicion, no disrespect. Of course, we didn’t get close enough emotionally to mean that much to each other. But he never, ever got jealous. I tried a couple of times and he saw right through me. Why waste the time, he says to me. He’s right. But I can’t help it. It’s like a dare. Watch what I can do. How’s that feel? Dumbass = Me.

Men don’t like when women get jealous so they test us to see if we’re like that. I’m not. I don’t snoop or chase or show up somewhere hoping to bust someone. I did track MyDude once but that’s when he and his baby’s mom made me crazy for a minute. I stopped after that. I didn’t even track TheMan or look at his phone or check his bank account5. I’m not competing with another woman for my man. He either wants me or not and she has very little to do with that. The only time I flip about another woman is when she is actively disrespecting me – as MyDude’s ex did to me. Then that’s a fight for a whole other reason. I don’t fight over a man. And I never expect a man to be faithful. It’s why I have rules and I do, honestly, live by them. I will, though, find myself a secondary if I see my main dude is fucking around. Better believe that.

I’m looking for a good place to end this post so this is it. It doesn’t matter if this guy gets jealous or not at this point. He’s been dismissed. But someone else will pop up and tell me that. And then I will have to decide if I remain true to myself and do what I always do OR pretend I’m a regular woman and put my foot down. Maybe I’ll try the latter this time. Bwahaha. Not bloody likely.

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

  1. Shockingly, I don’t actually share everything in my life. []
  2. At least when guys are with me. []
  3. He also almost ripped some guy’s arm off because he was trying to kiss me in the bar. Another time he let some young dude buy me shot after shot then the kid kissed me and MyDude flipped out. []
  4. This is something we say about men marking their territory. MyDude did this all the time without even realizing it. He was all hands on Jinx whenever we were out in public – Lowe’s, Walmart, the parts store. If some other man looked at me then MyDude was either kissing me or hugging me close. Never failed. []
  5. I should have, but I didn’t. []

I made a decision

Yesterday I legally became single again. And I have taken back my name. No more Mrs. TheMan. Good riddance.

I did have a little bit of a mourning period. I went out into my grove and cursed my gods. I asked them to just leave me alone. I’m sick of their interference. I cried and swore and sat at the base of the biggest tree and let it all flow out of me.1

It wasn’t just about my marriage. That was over years ago. Gods know I tried to heal it, but he’s a selfish motherfucker so we failed. And not just MyDude either. He’s a symptom – a garbage barge passing through my life.

The dead:
My mother
My son
My great-grandmother2
My grandfather

The living:
My paternal family
Anyone I ever fell in love with
Countless “friends”3

The inanimate:
My home
My security
My dreams

I keep losing. And I’m sick of it. I’m sick of having strength and being crazy and trying to keep something together. I’m sick of being another in a long line of cursed women. I’m sick of being me. And I want to be an atheist right now. I want to let go of my spirituity so then these questions and frustrations won’t happen. “Shit happens” instead of “shit happens for a reason”. What’s  the point?

So, I had that time to do that thing. Then I walked downtown to meet that guy again. He was the only one to invite me for drinks and, honestly, he’s starting to grow on me. We started drinking at 7 and I was flashing my boobs by 11:30.  I stole someone’s cigarettes and kisses. The guy I was with apparently explained very gently why I needed to go the fuck home. And he took me. I woke up; face down on top of my purse and phone; and fully clothed. He texted me early this morning to check on me. He was very sweet about everything. I wasn’t the least bit sorry. Yeah…anyway…

Then my life-long best friend tells me her MS has snowballed and, no, she won’t take that medication now. She’s terrified. But I’m angry4. She won’t even use a cane oit in public. Now she will need a wheelchair. Which means she will not leave her house. She is so stubborn. I’ve been down this road before, so I know no amount of pleading will help. She is more like my mother than I am. I just want to smack her. But…it put some things into clear focus.

So, today I deleted every bit of MyDude from my phone – pictures, texts, email. He is not a real problem. I’m hurting because I miss someone I made up in my head. By the way, he’s a living, breathing human being, but I saw him as someone better than he was. I miss a wistful idea. He was nothing more than a fuckboy. And I elevated him to lover status. I hurt myself. And overall he was barely a blip in my life as it was imploding. There have been so many more important things to worry about, but I stupidly focused on that single thing. He was never worth that. I knew it then. I made him into something he can never be. I see it now. So…

I did email him yesterday when I was “out of sorts”. I know why I did it. I was honest. Just once more, Jennifer. I just told him that, since he was the one I confides in for 4 months, he’d be curious. He congratulated me and told me it all works out. “Yeah, eventually I hope.” I wasn’t thinking about him when I wrote. I was thinking about my house. And maybe the guy I was with at the time. Then this morning I told him my friend is too sick and that I won’t contact him again. That was that. After that I deleted everything.  Without the pictures I have a hard time remembering his face5. Without the emails and texts I will forget his voice. That’s that. He’ll become another story that begins “Hey, you remember that big guy I dated for a minute? What’s his name?”

Without his presence in my head I’ll have to face all of this other HUGE life changers. I’ll have to face myself and the parts.if the world that matter. That’s going to be rough. But I think I’m almost over this hump and good things will finally happen again. Time to start counting my silver linings again.

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

  1. I think this is the first time I’ve ever admitted it’s my grove. []
  2. My heart and strength. []
  3. I never learned to maintain relationships because a borderline personality raised me. []
  4. My mother committed suicide by doctor. []
  5. I still think about those hand though. []

The Chameleon

The Chameleon Effect is a way we interact with other people. We begin to mimic those around us. I was talking to my counselor about this the other day. I don’t know how much I do it as I tend to make people uncomfortable1. I was discussing how much MyDude engages in mimicry and he doesn’t even realize it.

He adopted a lot of my language while we were together. Even his response to my apology was something I say: “That’s fine no worries”. He began to regularly say “fucktard”, which I found amusing, and called me by the pet names I gave to him. He seemed to enjoy my music, but had a country CD in his car. He was very fluid depending on the situation he was in. I found that fascinating about him. But it may well have been the way he snagged me and was so good at manipulating me. 

I don’t believe the stories of his youth were mimicry, even though he comes from a similar background to mine. I had never discussed my childhood with him before he told me things about his past. When we first got together he was very open about that stuff. That made me trust him enough to tell him things I’d never even told TheMan. I told him some of the dark stuff. Things I won’t put here. He was very open about his past. 

My counselor suggested that he became so adaptive for survival purposes. I didn’t tell him what MyDude told me, but he could guess things based on how MyDude treated me. He said MyDude would never be reliable or truly honest or a good partner for someone like me. MyDude hasn’t got the capacity to love someone like me. That was such an odd thing to hear from a counselor. But it makes sense. From what I know MyDude has always been left to his own devices, even as a little boy. He’s never had that deep connection that people get when they’re loved by family. The boy wasn’t shown the kind of love he’d need when he was a man. That’s so sad to me. I want to build a time machine and go back to hug that little boy. And that’s my problem. I want to fix something that he doesn’t even want to fix.

He acts the way people he’s with want him to act. He never feels safe enough to let his real self out. And when someone loves him enough to pull that out him he takes off. He never wants anyone to see that part of him. My ego was hurt because he showed me part of himself but pulled it back and ran away. Not even I could draw hom out safely. And, no, I’m not ignoring the fact that I made it unsafe for him ultimately.  He could never be safe with me. But I’m still upset he never truly let himself go with me.

I saw part of him. Just a bit there at the end. I saw him crack himself open just enough. That last week was something else – just enough to give me hope. And then… well, we know how all of that went. I let myself just be when I wss with him. There was a small period of time when I felt safe enough to just let myself out – finally. Heh. What a mess that became.

So, I thought that was interesting. It’s too bad neither of us could be safe. It’s a damned shame that we were so broken because…

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

  1. My friend told me that I’m like coffee in that I’m an acquired taste. []

So That was a Bust

This new guy invited me to his apartment last night and it did not go well. I should’ve walked out the second I walked in. But, nope, I didn’t trust my gut. I really have to stop ignoring that.

His entire downstairs was dark because, he said, he didn’t have a tv downstairs. What? I really should’ve left then, but I went to his room to watch a movie and talk.

I was very clear with him from the get: no sex. None. Not even heavy petting. We aren’t progressing anywhere,  but I was curious. What would we talk about? How curious was he about me?

Turns out he’s not the slightest bit interested in me or the rules I set forth. He was too casual about everything. Too uninspired. He didn’t so much as put on a show. It wasn’t long before he was trying to get my pants off. At the second “no”, which he was arguing about, I decided to go. He was being extremely aggressive and heavy handed. I was starting to think something bad was going to happen. So I took off with my dignity bruised and intact. And I’m annoyed today.

I’m annoyed that this dude who is not even in my league tried to help himself to my body. I don’t give a flying monkey’s ass if I gave him 1000 kisses, I get to decide when I give up the booty. I’m annoyed that I have to start navigating this shit again. And I’m annoyed I gave this guy even 5 seconds of my time. And I’m annoyed I felt the need to make “friends” even when I’m really not ready to do so.

This guy is a creep. There’s no doubt about that. He’ll get no more of my time. But another creep will come down the pipe and I’ll be fighting the same sort of battles I fought when I was 25. I’m too old to be fending off aggressive hands like that. And I’m too old to try to give someone an honest shot when they really just don’t do it for me. At least not sober. Heh. What an ass.

Back to being alone for a while. I don’t have the energy for those kinds of fights. I wanted to kmow if this guy was interested in getting to know me as a person and now I know he’s not. Such is my life until I die. Fuck off, cruel world,  fuck all the way off.

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.