Nom. And more Nom.

I can tell you without a doubt that I will need to take cooking classes before I walk down that aisle again.

In the last 11 years, the percentage of meals prepared by me for me and my little tribe is maybe an optimistic 45%. The percentage of meals prepared by me for me and my sweetheart is around 9%.The rest of our eats have been prepared by fantastic restaurateurs.

While I really enjoy those percentages, I am pretty sure that cooking meals for my man will increase my chances of staying married in the future. I want to have at least a 50% success rate of marriage when it's all told. So far my percentage rate is 0.

How many nights in a row can you serve grilled cheese and tomato soup before it starts getting redundant? Asking for a friend.

How you like them apples?

My biggest struggle in trying to live my life as a self-actualized human being/Wonder Woman is knowing what to do with those who don't like me.

Honestly, in 2007 I was pretty sure I had this licked. "I am not everyone's cuppa tea - I get that. And that is okay", I would say. And I would truly be fine with it.

But now - not so much. I have a totally new world of people to interact with, and a totally new set of personalities to adapt to. I walk in on a future relative saying something mean about me and I shrink. I shrivel! I run away. The neighbor is snotty and disdainful one day, but friendly and engaging the next? I spend hours in turmoil trying to figure out how to increase the friendly, engaging minutes while erasing whatever I did to cause the snotty, disdainful ones. I have wasted so much time dissecting interactions between people in my past, my present and my future, all to determine how to make things better. How to make things right for these people who don't seem to like me.

I need to write it on my heart: I am not everyone's cuppa tea. I am me. And I am just fine! I don't like everyone and not everyone has to like me. That is okay.

I hereby resolve to be myself and pretend that I haven't heard or seen anything from anyone that would indicate that they think I am anything less than wonderful. And I will be much happier, I am sure. And if they are much happier as a result, that will just be bonus.

Hainke Painke

I have started dating again. 

It is strange to date when you still love another. It, in fact, feels like you are cheating. 

It is even stranger to have to tell the one you love that you are going out with another man. 

To his credit, he said he was jealous - which was very confusing to me! I never considered that to be a possibility! Reeling, I made the mistake of responding that I wished it was him and I going instead. It took me a few minutes to realize that I didn't really mean that...

I really have to stop saying those kinds of things.

My first date (Sunday Man) pulled up in an old beat up jalopy ... with a door that had to be opened from the inside only. He was fun, but not enough for me to overlook his 39 years of backwards upbringing. I requested a return trip home due to an early morning at work. 

My second date (Thursday Man) turned out to be a little easier to manage as I had become smarter over the previous three days and learned to arrange a meeting place. He was a full decade older than me, very nice, handsome for an older man - and totally uninteresting to me. I felt very mean as he hugged me goodbye and asked for a second date. I knew there would not be another. And I did not say so. 

My third date (Friday Man) I also met on location - although on the way there, I was followed by a car that housed a man that vaguely fit my date's description. But not in a good way. I prayed so hard that it was NOT my date - and breathed a sigh of relief when he turned left and I turned right. My date turned out to be pleasant, handsome, well educated, well traveled, interesting - and a long-winded braggart. I truly did not get to say four words in about 3 hours while I listened to scores of anecdotes relating to his travel, his riches, his possessions...and then to top it all off, he took me up on my offer to pay half for our meal! Ha! When he hugged me goodbye, he assured me that he would be in touch. I am not sure I will be reachable...we will see.

My fourth date (Saturday Man) was the one I was really looking forward to. A manicure and pedicure, a new pair of shoes, and a new flush in my cheeks meant that we were to have a great evening! I had talked to him a few times on the phone, and enjoyed his repartee tremendously. The only red flag that I could see was his sudden and deep penetration into my social media life...he knew my personal email addresses, found my facebook page, my blog - it just felt a bit strange. As the time approached for me to leave to meet him in Denver, I received an odd text: " Looking forward to seeing you - don't come too late." To which I queried playfully what exactly too late would be. As texts went back and forth a few more times it became clear that he and I had different ideas of what our date was going to look like, and he was frustrated. And then - he stopped responding all together when I asked if maybe we shouldn't call the whole thing off! Twice I texted, twice I called, and then, remembering what D used to say about giving the non-responding party the benefit of the doubt (noone can be on their phones as much as I need them to be!), I kept our arrangement plans and assured myself that there would be a good explanation.

There wasn't. 

There was, however, an email that arrived on my phone an hour later. The part that stands out the most to me: "I am sorry that you came to Denver - you shouldn't have. If I had wanted you to, I would have called you back."

I am so very blessed that my God looks out for me. I am so grateful that this guy showed his character so early. I had no idea that I was dealing with that kind of personality. 


I did respond, though...just a short note, letting him know that I was glad that it wasn't because something horrible happened and that had kept him from answering his phone. (I honestly thought maybe his ailing dog had suffered an episode, as that is what he had been dealing with all week.)


His response? "Are you being sarcastic? I didn't know that Christian Republicans were smart enough for that?"


After my friends and I laughed at his ridiculousness, I privately took great pleasure in the fact that I held myself back from retorting that maybe we weren't smart enough for sarcasm, but we sure as HELL know that you don't end a statement with a question mark.

D never told me that dating was this...this...weird. I hope it gets better.

Hiding Under the Carpet with My Words

My mom and her husband came to visit me from NH for a week. Yeah - the same mom that gave me the intervention the week before I got served with divorce papers. Same mom. Turns out she loves me. (The ex-husband did not. Who would'a guessed?!)

Anyway - she and Bob stayed with the kids and I, and oh MAN did we ever have fun! Lots of laughing and games and even a really long hike up in Rocky Mountain National Park. Good for the soul, moms are.

But that isn't the only reason why you haven't seen me for awhile. There are a few more, such as the fact that I have been reading so many other people's blogs that there simply isn't time for my own! Besides that, aren't we all getting tired of my "I'm so happy and life is amazing/my heart is broken and life is nothing but mud puddles" circle of life? I wanted to go ride on other people's roller coasters. Oh my heavens, I have learned so much. So much about things that I will never experience - and in most cases, that is just fine. I can do the vicarious experience forever with no qualms.

Why am I writing in my own blog tonight?

Ugh.

Well.

I am avoiding an issue.

I am supposed to be writing an email explaining what exactly happened last Saturday night. It is my homework to sort it out in writing (because he knows I can't talk in words...I have to use my fingers on a keyboard to say what I really mean)and to share with D what my experience was so that he can possibly prevent a rerun.

No, I didn't cause a scene. No, I didn't reproach, whine, wheedle, nag, or punish anyone for anything.

But I did watch him and another girl sharing very intimate moments at a friend's birthday party - strange for two people who were only supposed to know each other through the neighbor. Hands brushing, knees leaning casually on thighs, heads too close and the whispering too soft for birthday party conversation. Lingering eyes on one another as one walked through the door to the adjoining room. All of my alarm bells were clanging - I mistook them for the sound of dangerously accelerating blood pressure in my ears.

It reminded me of the final days of my marriage - watching another scene much the same, only with my husband and a friend. So uncomfortable. So awkward. I wanted to crawl under the carpet, behind a door, or anywhere that would keep them from seeing my face heat up and my eyes blinking back the tears of shame and betrayal. I felt like I should remove myself from the room - as if I were an intruder on an intimate moment between rightful lovers.

Which is what I did.

In both cases.

Which went unnoticed in both cases.

However, this time, in the very wee hours of the morning, I was discovered sorting it out with my face in the pillow and my arms wrapped around my middle so as to not to make a sound.

I didn't tell him anything of what I had seen. I couldn't. The words would not appear.

Mercifully, he allowed me to be silent while he held me close and dried my face with his hands. He murmured soothing sounds over and through the roaring in my ears...and I let him lull me to sleep.

We didn't speak of it again - and I thought the matter was dropped, and I also assumed that he would prefer it that way! Until I got the email this morning from him asking for an explanation for the tears. He said that he knew I communicated best with my writing. That he had waited until I could write from the comfort and safety of my own home. And that he knew we could untangle this mess, just like we had untangled all the others ... through prose and carefully metered dialogue.

But I can't. I can't say the words, I can't write the words, I can't even mouth the words!

I am running away. I have been given the opportunity to have the correct response to a painful situation, and I am going to mess it up this time, too.


I wonder how long he will wait for me to answer...

The Holy Six-Pack

I am not a blasphemous person.

I am a preacher's daughter. My mother, although well versed in how to destroy a haughty, holier-than-thou evangelist using the Holy Bible as a Two-Edged Sword, taught me to to have reverence and respect for my God.

I was raised nondenominational charismatic (which has since become a denomination. Crazy huh?). D is Catholic. His ex, the Beauty Queen converted to Catholicism, his mom and dad and brother are Catholic - hell, his whole childhood town in Kansas is Catholic. I defer out of sheer outnumberedness. And also because I don't really care what denomination a congregation is. My God is still there.

We usually go to Mass with his children on the Sundays that I have to take my children to their father's house. I drive like a bat out of hell to make it on time, fully dressed and ready to attend Mass.

Well, at least my outer clothes are appropriate for Mass...my underclothes are anticipating a whole different scenario. But I digress.

Invariably, it has been a whole week to ten days since I have last had any physical contact by the time I get there, so I am a bit starved. Okay - a lot starved! Sometimes I am afraid people can hear my body beg them to touch me. And at Mass, this is inappropriate behavior. Also, it is inappropriate thinking. Not that it is appropriate behavior or thinking at the supermarket, either, but you know what I mean.

During the communion that I am not allowed to partake in (because I am not Catholic), I found my mind wandering and my eyes roving through the congregation. What a wonderful cross-section of humanity a church is!
Trying to keep my thoughts pure and my body from shouting, I focused on family structures and the recognizable dynamics of proper two parent/wonderful children units.

I swear I wasn't looking at the Tall Smoldering Dark and Handsome with the bicep tattoo peeking out from under his sleeve. I promise that I wasn't gazing back into BlueEyed, CleanCut, All American's steady gaze. I was at Mass with my boyfriend and his children for gawds sake! LITERALLY!

Directing my point of view back to the pulpit and pageantry was a difficult and necessary task - and also where I decided that I could never, ever enter a confession booth, because the penalty for my next thought would surely be too high.

As I glanced up at the Statue of Christ on His Cross, I heard myself muse,"Huh. Wow. Those are some great abs. I didn't even know He worked out..."

Please don't be angry with me, friends - blasphemy and disrespect was not my intent.

As punishment, God did not allow me to have any alone time with D whatsoever for the entire night, and here I am on Monday. Alone. Skin starving. Body shouting. And doing penance as dutifully as I can.

Well, isn't this a fine howdy-do?

Fourteen posts (approximately), 15 months (or so), thousands of miles on my car (on average), and exactly ONE (selfmade) rollercoaster later:

I am ready to move on to something else now. This whole grownup dating thing got boring real fast.

Let's go do something different. Like what, I don't know yet. But we can figure something out. It has to be fun, and it has to make us feel alive, and it has to be inexpensive. For a little while, anyway. And it can't be illegal.

Who's in??

Swift Kick for the Sad Kangaroo

Halloween 2008

"Quart? Are you still coming over tonight?" D asks with some bewilderment attached. I have yet to drive to Denver since the weekend before last...a complete change in the schedule we have kept for the last year and three months.

But I am going tonight. And I am excited.

We have disected the weekend (his idea) to find our disconnect, and to make sure it doesn't happen again. Communication seems to be the biggest factor - I assume much more than I actually ask. He doesn't tell me because he assumes I already know. What a mess.

But MOST importantly, I had some decisions to make and some growing up to do. I know, hard to believe, ah?

I am the one who put myself in the precarious adoring girlfriend position. That in itself does not entail me to any special privileges...more, it puts me at a disadvantage. I cannot expect someone else to give as much as I do just because it's fair.

I have to pull back so that I don't get so resentful, so dissillusioned - so...so...DRAMATIC!

Yes, I am embarrased and yes a bit redfaced, but I am determined to practice this relationship skill NOW while it matters so that I won't have to put anyone else through this brain damage.

And you won't have to cringe for me so much in the future when you read my posts! :)

Hope Doesn't Float (when you hold it underwater)

Well, THAT was short-lived. I am apparently a fickle flake. I did not know this about myself, so please forgive me while I digest this new information.

D went hunting - not a surprise trip, and definitely not an unsupported trip - in Kansas. He was gone for three days. Friday afternoon he called my phone at a time he knew I would not be able to answer, and left a message. I refer to this style of message as the Kansas KissOff. I have gotten it a few times now.

"Hey Baby, on the road, almost out of cell phone range, have a great weekend with your kids, I'll talk to you later!".

Translation: Hey Baby, I left already, but I waited until I was almost out of cell phone range to call and let you know, and I don't expect to be in touch the entire weekend so don't count on it, but don't despair either - I will let you know when I am home for your adoration and ministrations.

He did indeed talk to me later - but by that time it was too late.

He definitely was not expecting the emotional mess I disintegrated in to, and because I couldn't even explain it to myself, I had no plausible explanation for him. When he left I was a giggly, smoochy-faced silly girl - and when he came back I was a sobbing, indecipherable wreck.

He wasn't mean, defensive or angry. Confused, for sure. I did take ownership of my own meltdown because I am smart enough to know that I am responsible for my own emotions and actions, and he LET me because we both knew that my reaction was over the top. He apologized for "whatever it is that I did that made you feel this bad"...and he meant it, I am positive. And then he was tired from his long weekend of partying and hunting, so it was time for him to go to sleepgoodnightIhopeyouarebetterinthemorningpleasegawd.

When my sobbing on the bed finally stopped, it was very quiet in my little house.

Something was different.

It was me.

I (think I) want to break up.

Highway Grand Opening

Part of my misery is my own damn fault. Funny how that works, and even funnier how hard it is to admit it, ah? Anyway!

Bah.

Three or four years ago when things in my mind were starting to muck up, and things in my household were becoming crystal clear for the dysfunction they were, I filled my life up with people that I only communicated with electronically. At first it was people from my Quit.net, and then it started to include people I met blogging, and then after my divorce it became people I met on dating sites who although I didn't get to date them (D asked for exclusivity immediately -flattering, but detrimental to the cause of seeing what all is out there...), I still had much communication through email and/or texting.

That all came to a grinding halt in the early fall when D expressed his displeasure with all of my random iPeople. So I cut off communication with them all. All of my flirty friends that made me laugh and giggle and blush, all of my intuitive friends that gave me great advice and stayed ever available for my sporadic need for repartee, even my concert buddy who still to this day does not know why he went to so many concerts by himself this year - I stopped "talking" to them all. And focused all of my attention on my relationship with D.

And there is where at least two of my four wheels start to come off the track. It seems that I am a high contact person who has an incredible need for near-constant socialization. Can one man - one amazing man, albeit - carry that humongous burden? Could he ever hope to get lucky at the art of keeping me even-keeled? No. No. He hasn't a snowball's chance in hell of meeting those particular needs of mine.

And so. Is it really fair? Is it fair that I put so much pressure on him to do the impossible? Would it be a blessing of immeasurable value and an enormous relief to have that responsibility and source of brain damage, that everpresent millstone around his neck removed?

Why, yes. I do believe I agree with you. I think I am reopening the terriberrisuperinformationhighway. I need those connections. They are a lifeline of sorts. And I miss them terribly.

There. You had no idea I was such an excellent giver and problem solver, did you? :)

Next Floor Level, Please

Is it the alignment of (or my misalignment with) the stars? Is it my emotional immaturity and baggage that I am left to reconcile in the aftermath of divorce? Is it insecurity about my future?

Criminy. I don't know.

There is something wrong with me. And I don't like it.

I used to be afraid that D would read my blog and find some reason to be upset with me. I used to be very careful to not put into words anything I couldn't back up in real life. I would refrain from sharing any difficult emotions or situation that hadn't already been resolved.

But now I know that I don't need to worry about D reading my blog. Or reading my emails. (Even the ones sent to him from me! HA!) Or listening to my voice messages - or even CD's. (Even SPECIAL CD's like the one I put together like some stupid teenager on our year anniversary!) Nope. Nada. Just won't do it. Wouldn't be prudent. And RETURN an email? Or a text? Whatever. I can go a whole day, sometimes two, without hearing from him. Take right now for instance: the last meaningful conversation we had was last week..before he left for Kansas.

Sometimes I am okay with this uncommunicative state, especially if I have just been in his arms for a weekend or so. I mean, who cares about stupid txt messages and phone calls and emails and cd's and blogs when you are in your man's arms? When I am okay with his radio silence I feel mature and whole and balanced.

But then other times - like right now - when I am floating out and around in this universe, completely by myself, scared and riddled with anxiety, it makes me feel so insignificant. It makes me feel like I have attached myself to someone (again) that does not feel the same way about me. And we all know how I feel about giving out more than I am getting back!

...it makes me feel invisible and lost and very, very alone.

I am literally holding myself down to keep from throwing it all away because I want to have a healthy relationship. And because I am not sure these minor transgressions are a true deal breaker. What if I am just being immature again? Or letting my imagined princess status become a demand? What if I am being a whiney, stereotypical girl? I mean, can I not hold myself together with my own strength? Can I not be by myself for a little while without coming unhinged?

I just don't know.

Right now I need strong arms around me, I need to feel safe and loved and cared for.

I need to matter.

And it is starting to feel dangerous.

Professional Head Banger

Criminy Almighty.

Sometimes the mental gymnastics that my mind does at any given part of the day give me the shivers.

My thought processes are NOT CORRECT! How is that possible? I am a smart girl. I am street smart (sort of) and book smart (a bit) but every once in awhile I am a complete NINCOMPOOP!

Aaaargh...

Last night I took a car load of girlfriends to Denver for a meeting - fun, outgoing, loud and boisterous girls. We had the very best time listening to music and comparing boyfriend/SO stories - some tales more serious than others. My contribution was the fact that D's secretary has a crush on him and texts him at all hours of the day and night. It drives me batty, but I say nothing. I am the cool girlfriend, right? Even though the secretary before her sent him pics of herself in her underwear (that happened last January...I just finally asked him about it a couple of weeks ago. I lack in the adressing issues department.) and even though we both know that it is innappropriate, I say nothing. I figured I would come off jealous and stupid. My friends thought this was a definite gaffe in handling him, and encouraged me to take measures to end this ill fated circumstance one way or the other - "because you just can't hold stuff in like that...it's unhealthy". An ultimatum if you will.

So...blech.
After coming down to meet me for drinks and dinner, he launched into a story about said secretary/skankho sharing tales of her notsorecent tummy tuck. A very innocent exchange between the two, I am sure. But just her name (and the beer I was drinking) pushed me right over the edge and boy, howdy, didn't I just tell HIM that it was either her or I, and that I would not put up with this type of innappropriateness and neither should he?! Oh. Yes. I. Did.

After about two hours of nonsensical back and forth BS that ranged from how often he did/didn't call me, how much time he spent talking to her, what type of texts she sent vs. mine, etc. he fell asleep when I took a potty break. I wiped him clean out with my psycho girlfriend routine.

I woke him up with a treat this morning...and then shared the one special lesson that I learned from all of our headbanging excersises: The reason why we sometimes hold in things we feel and think is because they are stupid and should NOT be let out.

He forgave me.

...and then his phone buzzed with a message.

Ugh.

Driving Ms.Terri

I am still racing to Littleton and back when I don't have the kids. It's 180 miles round trip. It's 25,000 miles on my car in the last year and one month.
Is it worth it? Yeah...it is. Does he come see me? Sometimes - but not very often...he has a different parenting schedule than I do, so it is a much more difficult practice for him. Do I resent that? Yeah, I guess I do sometimes!
It is hard to be a single mother of three with all of the same bills I had when I was married, paying gas prices per gallon that rival the price of a gallon of Orange Juice, and working a full time plus a part time job AND commuting three hours a day. It gets old.
But he does little things that make it feel better. One Saturday before I woke up, he took my car down and had it detailed. Sometimes when we are using my vehicle he will just randomly pull into a gas station and fill it up to the tiptop. And clean my windows. He lets me use his VIP service package - and has even footed the bill for my maintenance visits.
Now there is another sweet little thing to add to his pro list - he ordered me a transponder for the toll road. Yep. I have my very own transponder that will assist me in my racing endeavors...it will save me about an hour round trip.
I know. My idea of romantic is skewed. Whatever.
I am happy.
:)

Grading Metaphorical Dives

Criminy. It is my pattern. It is how I roll.

I get to running so fast, so beautifully, just screeeeeamin' right along - and then I trip. And land flat on my face.

It is getting harder to pick myself up these days...partly because I only have myself to fight, so I can't use my ex as motivation for locomotion. HA! He was really good for that, wasn't he?

Does everyone have to give themselves pep talks? Is this normal? Do YOU have to tell yourself you are alright? That things will work out just the way they are supposed to?

I won't be musing anymore tonight, don't worry.

But I will tell you one thing: there is someone out there who is as big of a fan of me as I have to pretend to be of myself. And he will be so proud of me. And proud to be with me.

...I gotta wipe the mud outa my eyes from my latest digger so I can see him.

OFGS - just spit it out!

I want to talk to you...I do! I want to share with you the insanity that swirls through my head and the waves of emotion that knock me down (good and bad) every single day. I want you to nod your head and make those reassuring sounds that friends make when they understand just.what.you.mean.

I want you to tell me that it is okay to start from scratch every blessed morning on the reinvention of terri. I want to hear that people understand and are not startled (or frustrated. or angry.) at all when I walk in and back out of their lives as if in a revolving door.

But mostly, I want to tell you about a boy. I haven't talked about him yet because I don't want to jinx it. And some days I am not even sure he is real. And some days I can convince myself that he isn't! But then I get to see him again, kiss him again, hear his voice rumble through my body when he holds me tight and speaks the words I need to hear...

Okay. I still can't talk about him. I will though...I promise.

Last Call - and other Bothersome Phrases

(the last enjoyable day of terri and Jerry - and of Nela and Howie too, come to think of it. Hmmm.)

So, the union between T & J has almost wound down to it's final death throes. Please read no disrespect when I say that I always thought this process would kill me, and yet I have found that my experience has been one of the opposite - it has brought me back to life. I hope it has done the same for him. He deserves good things, too.

I have found that almost every one of my core relationships has changed based on my marital status, though. And that really bothers me. It originated with my MOM of all people when I was out in NH this summer. (I know that I haven't written about that particular experience- but someday I will. It is still too hurtful right now to put into actual words...I can't even talk to HER about it. Actually, I can't even talk to HER. I want to. But I can't. I will though.) My dad was next...but he is getting better. Even my old neighbors have no idea what to say to me, and I end up comforting THEM and telling them that everything will be okay! Friends that we have had all along are just so awkward in expressing their emotions...some won't even attempt to speak to either one of us.

I hope I will never do that to a friend. Especially during a process as extremely important as divorce.

On a different and much more interesting note: I am dating. I know I will be tsked and should not even broach this subject for another 11 days. But I can't help it. I am so intrigued by why anyone would ever NOT just date for the rest of their lives! (Security and finances aside, of course.) The one discussion that I am dreading and never thought I would have with anyone? Birth control. Oh my holy hell...how do we expect teenagers to arrange for such things when I, a 37 year old worldly woman, am breaking out in hives just THINKING about having a talk regarding methods, beliefs, STD's, etc...?? Criminy.

And yet - it must be done. When the time is right, of course. In 11 days. Or so.
:)t