Sizing Down

Since the split, it seems everything in my life is being cut in half. Except for my car insurance - that went up by $50 a month!

I took my little 7-diamond ring into Spence Jewelers to be sized down to a pinkie ring. Currently it's a 4.5, to fit my right ring finger. I am getting it sized down to a 3. Taking a cue from Oprah, I decided that my little band of hope should sit on my pinkie as my own version of the now famous "AH" ring.

For those of you who aren't Oprah fans, the AH ring is worn on the right pinkie finger and means "Available and Happy". Or if you are in a relationship, it can mean "Attached and Happy". Either way, it's a way for women who aren't married to have diamonds and be able to wear them without any real connotation attached. Here's a link to the expensive Oprah version: http://www.divinediamonds.com/ahring.php And here's a picture of my ring:

The last time I went to Spence was with Simon, to have that ring sized to fit my ring finger. Before that, it was to buy my wedding band. All Spence rings come with a 5 year warranty, which covers sizing and replacing lost stones. So we are on file there as Mr. & Mrs.

(A quick aside here. The day we bought my wedding band, Simon accused me of checking out and flirting with the guy who sold it to us. Holy red flag Batman. Why did I go through with it anyway? Love is blind indeed.)

I gave my married name to the lady at the counter. Saying it made me feel weird, like I was pretending to be someone else. She then asked me why I want to get the ring sized. What she probably meant was, whether the ring is too big or too small. However my brain interpreted the question as "What's going on with you and Simon?"

A million answers started streaming through my brain:

"We're not together anymore but I still want to wear one piece of jewelery he gave me."

"I don't want to give off the wrong signals to potential new boyfriends so I am making this a pinkie ring to be absolutely clear in my message to single men."

"I threw him out and I'm trying to reclaim my life, and this is one way for me to show my independence."

"I originally wanted this ring to be my wedding band, and thank goodness I went with a different one, otherwise this would be sitting in a box keeping my engagement ring company."

"Does it matter WHY? It's my ring BITCH, stop asking questions and just size the damn thing."

What actually came out of my mouth was, "Um...uh....I want it to be a pinkie ring, so I can be cool like that."

BE COOL LIKE THAT??? Cool like what, Oprah? My brain is so damaged from all of this, I can't even complete a simple task like sizing a ring without being a total retard about it.

Anyway, she took my pinkie's measurement, slapped a bar code onto an little envelope and shoved the ring into it. On the envelope she wrote Simon's name. That made my heart stop for a few beats. When they call to let me know it's ready, they will be calling for Simon, not me.

As I was driving home, I came to the stark realization that if and when Simon gets into another committed relationship, he'll probably go to Spence to buy a piece of jewelery to demonstrate his undying love for someone who isn't me. It'll be funny though when my name comes up on the file.

Birthday Fun

I helped celebrate my Divorce Twin's birthday on Saturday. I was nursing a wicked hang over from Friday night's self inflicted bombing. But I managed to pull myself together enough to take a shower, blow dry my hair, put on make up (!), and throw on some heels (!!). Ironically, the heels I wore were the same pair I wore on my wedding day. They turned out to be incredibly uncomfortable - just like my marriage.

We started out at DT's apartment for some pre-club drinks and snacks. I brought along 4 of my friends and a raging head ache. (Damn you sweet sparkling wine!) At first I felt a bit out of place. Which is weird because I knew practically everyone there. I think it was partly due to the head ache, and partly due to having spent the last 2 years cowering in corners at parties so as not to give Simon any reason to yell at me for supposedly making googly eyes at other men. I shit you not, no matter where we were, no matter what we were doing, Simon almost always accused me of "checking out hot guys". You have no idea how many parties, dinners, karaoke nights and walks to the grocery store I've had to cut short because of his insane behaviour.

The club of choice, Up Lounge, right in the heart of the Toronto entertainment district. The group I ended up with had a bit of difficulty actually finding the place. It was wedged in between two big restaurants and the sign was inconspicuously on the side of its entrance. So we spent about 15 minutes just walking back and forth along John Street. That gave me lots of time to see all the beautiful people hanging around on the sidewalk, waiting for their beautiful friends to show up so they could all go to the club and be beautiful together.

We managed to find our way to the club, and up the stairs into total darkness. Honestly, it was really DARK in there. Have I been away from clubs that long? Last time I checked, they would usually at least light the stairs so you don't trip up - which is always more embarrassing that falling down. Between that and my uncomfortable shoes, I wasn't sure if I would make it in one piece.

It took about 25 minutes before we actually hit the dance floor - and from there, I actually had FUN. Can you believe it? I WAS HAVING FUN!!!! I think it had a lot to do with the fact that we were celebrating a birthday, rather than an impending marriage. And also I think because this was a smaller club so there weren't a gazillion people with twice as many eyeballs floating around me. And maybe also because they were handing out free drinks. :)

I thought about my singleness about 4 times that entire night. I wished for a guy to hit on me maybe about 6 times. I sat down about 5 times due to my immensely uncomfortable shoes. (How did I get married in them?) And I felt like a giant tub of lard only about twice. So I think that's a marked improvement from how I felt at the bachelorette party.

Happy 30th Birthday DT - you rocked the dance floor, and the speakers. You have absolutely nothing to worry about.

Public Service Announcement

Ladies and gentlemen, please listen and believe me when I say, "Don't drink and Facebook".

(Insert long, exasperated, audible sigh here.)

As you can probably guess from my posting last night, I did the exact opposite. There is a very good reason why one should never pour alcohol onto an open flame.

And to illustrate why this is true, here's the rest of the story as it happened, before I posted to my blog. If nothing, I'm definitely able to look myself in the mirror, in the harsh light of the morning after. :P

(Insert strange mystical time warping music here.)

After waking up to pay the cab driver for the ride and thank him for not molesting me while I was passed out, I stagger into my apartment, throw everything onto the floor and turn on my computer.

I log into Facebook and immediately change my status to read "Ann-Marie is geezus crazy drunk. 1:41am" I was secretly hoping that would elicit some sort of reaction from Simon. Something that at least involved a synapse or two popping.

I scroll through my mini feeds and see what all my friends are doing. Everything looks good - a few pokes here, a couple of Garden additions there, oh and some Questions were answered! All a-okay in Facebook land.

Then my alcohol-soaked brain decides it would be a tremendously GOOD thing to check Simon's profile. Honestly people, I hadn't checked it for about a week. I know that doesn't seem like much of an accomplishment, but it really was seeing as I had gone from checking it 50 times a day to only once in a week. It had been a small victory for me which I had been proud of and celebrated in my mind. And then I blew it all to hell.

I see his profile status set to "Simon is happy!!!!" which of course results in my brain exploding in four different places. I immediately check his mini feed for some clue to his joy. Nothing much happened in the week I wasn't checking, except for a new friend connection that day.

Simon and Sarah Herren are now friends. 12:06am

I quickly click on Sarah's name to see who this person is. I have never heard him mention a Sarah Herren. It is of course, the same Sarah that we all know and loathe. I don't understand why she would go through the trouble of changing her last name, but not bother to set her profile to private. Duh.

In light of this new information, I changed my status to "Ann-Marie is geezus crazy mad. Who knew it would take my soon to be ex husband less than two months to get over me and move on to a SUPER SLUT SARAH HERREN aka SARAH CROCKER. 1:52am"

And if that weren't enough, I opened up a new mail message to Simon which read as follows:

Subject: Sarah

Just because she changed her last name doesn't mean I don't know who she is. YOU ARE A FUCKING LIAR. GO HAVE FUN WITH SARAH, ASSHOLE. And I'm so glad to see you are happy on Facebook. Nice to know you can get over a MARRIAGE with the woman you SUPPOSEDLY LOVE more than ANYTHING in just under TWO MONTHS. Well, at least I know where I stand now.

And that is when I started the oh-so-eloquently titled post last night.

Epilogue

I received two messages this morning through Facebook. One from Simon and one from you guessed it, Sarah!

Simon's message (apologies for the lack of grammar and misuse of punctuation):

Subject: Sarah

i was happy about the convention stupid..and for the last time sarah is not WITH ME...HOLY FUCK..WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU....IM NOT WITH ANY SARAH WITH ANY NAME ..... I AM NOT WITH SARAH AND I AM NOT LYING YOU FUCKING BITCH...GOD!!!!!!! YOUR ATTITUDE SUCKS.....WHY DONT YOU TALK TO ME INSTEAD OF ASSUMING....AND I WANT AN APPOLOGY...NO IF'S AND'S OR BUTS...YOU SAY SORRY....IF YOU ARE SO CONCERNED ABOUT ME GOING ANYWHERE, OR WITH SOMEONE ELSE...YOU SHOULD HAVE HELD ON TO ME....JUST LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE NOW...

Sarah's message (the queen of run on sentences):

Subject: hi

just so you know simon and i are not together i have just re added him and we have only spoken once regardless what you may think of me i am very sorry for propositioning simon when i shouldnt have it know it was wrong and im sorry please take thoes words about me off your personal message

FUCK YOU SIMON

You know, today I was actually finding some inner tranquility about this whole disaster I call a marriage. I went over to my friends' place for dinner and drinks and got pretty bombed. Happily bombed. Wonderfully bombed. Blissfully bombed. Crazy-sexy-cool bombed. Passed-out-in-the-back-of-the-cab-until-the-cab-driver-woke-me-up-to-verify-the-building-he'd-parked-in-front-of-is-actually-where-I-live bombed.

I came home and flipped on my computer to check Facebook. As the curious person that I am, I checked Simon's profile to see what's up.

Here's what's up - his official status is "Simon is happy!!!!" FOUR EXCLAMATION POINTS. That's gotta be pretty fucking happy.

Then I check his mini feed. Oooh, he's made a new friend, Sarah Herren. Geez, she looks pretty familiar. Like Sarah Crocker, the STUPID FUCKING SLUT that propositioned him the night I tossed his sorry ass out.

Here's a transcript from that evening (and I apologize for the lack of grammar):

Sarah Crocker
7:33pm July 14th

hey sexy how are you doing i wanted too let you know i was very serious about what i said lastnight BUT i dont want you too feel pressure do what makes you feel comfortable i just have liked you since i met you youre a great guy lol HOT AS HELL too

Then I sent her a message letting her know my absolute DISTASTE with the fact that she would be so vulgar as to hit on a married man, and do so repeatedly in a message with absolutely no punctuation. She responded with the following (again, my apologies for the lack of proper use of the English language):

Sarah Crocker
6:15pm July 15th

i deleted his as a friend and told him if i see him at the bar ill say hi but nothing more and besides when i propositioned him he said the marriage was probably ending and that he agreed too message me when / if things go bad with you and him

Little Miss SLUT has changed her profile name on Facebook, thinking she was oh so clever, and I could never POSSIBLY put two and two together. Because really, how on EARTH could I ever surmise that the picture I saw on Sarah Crocker's profile could remotely be the same as the picture on Sarah Herren's profile? I can't possibly be that smart! And I could never EVER figure out why Simon would add Ms. Herren as a friend.

I wish right now, I could breathe fire into an email and send it to both Simon and Sarah. I would love for their eyebrows to burn off. Then they could make out with each other, in eyebrowless bliss.

Wedding Season

Fuck bachelorette parties.
Fuck bridal showers.
Fuck wedding dresses.
Fuck bridesmaid dresses.
Fuck flowers.
Fuck weddings.
Fuck committment.
Fuck forever.
Fuck.
Fu.ck.
F.u.c.k.
F.U.C.K.

I am not a happy camper right now. As much as I enjoyed myself at my friend's wedding last week, I did NOT enjoy myself at another friend's bachelorette party on Saturday.

It started out okay. We surprised our friend with pole dancing lessons. Sounds a bit dirty but it's actually an amazing work out. At least that's what they tell me. I didn't actually participate. I took pictures. I'm far too awkward to ever do anything sexy like that. Afterwards, we took her to dinner. And then it was off to the dance club. That's where my evening crashed and burned. I was trying my very best to have fun at the club. But I failed miserably and I ended up leaving around midnight.

I've always had a love/hate relationship with dance clubs. I love dancing. I hate the whole feeling of being ogled and evaluated like a slab of meat. In the 5 years before I was married, I would go to the clubs a lot. And by the evening's end, I was strongly on the hate side of love/hate. This was mostly due to the fact that whenever I would go out with my gorgeous, skinny, single girlfriends, all the gorgeous, hunky, single guys would flock to them. Never to me. Ever. And that really sucked.

I know I'm not conventionally pretty. I know it takes time for people to really see me, and the beauty that is there. I don't think I'm unattractive, but I'm not the same kind of attractive that most of my friends are. And I certainly know I'm not skinny (now more so than ever). I'm not obese or even chubby, I'm curvy and voluptuous. Unfortuntately, most of the voluptuousness ended up in my tits, stomach and ass. So I never wear revealing clothing. Even when I was 30 pounds lighter, I never wore crop tops. I think it's gross. But I digress. Anyway along with all of that, I'm really dense when it comes to putting myself out there and showing interest in men. So all of those factors added up to men never hitting on me at clubs. I almost always ended up standing by myself, feeling like a dork, holding my girlfriends' purses while they were off dancing and having a fabulous time with a flock of men.

Simon and I met in a karaoke bar where there isn't any expectation to pick up, or be picked up. Where everyone wears jeans and a t-shirt, and the women have their hair in pony tails and the guys are wearing baseball caps. When he saw me for the first time, he saw the regular me. Not the pimped out me with the hair, make up, and great (but not revealing) outfit. He saw just me.

After getting together with Simon, all of that feeling dorky and ugly simply evaporated. Which of course one would expect to happen. Finding your soul mate really gives your ego a boost. So much so that going to clubs became a thing I loved again. There was no more pressure on me to impress men, be hit on/picked up, which of course leads to marriage and children. I could just go and enjoy holding my friends' purses.

With that said, right now I have absolutely ZERO desire to date EVER AGAIN. So you'd think that going to a club wouldn't bother me right? Because I would just be there to dance, and nothing else. I wouldn't want any guy to hit on me, because then I'd have to turn him down. So the usual pressure I would feel of having to impress anyone simply wouldn't exist.

Well you're wrong. It's completely twisted to feel this way, but when we were at the club on Saturday, I had the pressure of Jupiter coming down on me to have just one guy hit on me. Even though it was the LAST thing in the world I wanted, at the same time it was ALL I wanted.

Did it happen? Of course not. Were my friends getting hit on? Of course they were. Was I watching everyone's purse? You betchya!

Now not only am I the dorky, awkward, purse-holding freak again, I'm the DIVORCED dorky, awkward, purse-holding, never-hit-on, never-looked-at, LOSER - AGAIN.

I have officially sworn off dance clubs. However I have to make an exception this week as it's my Divorce Twin's 30th birthday. She of course has chosen to go dancing to celebrate this milestone. I gotta suck it up for her. She definitely owes me one.

Communication Breakdown

I was just watching Friday's episode of my soap opera on tape, and one of the characters uttered a statement that I just had to share.

"What comes out of my mouth and what you hear are so profoundly different, it's like we speak a different language."

That ladies and gentlemen, exactly illustrates the fundamental problem in trying to communicate with my soon to be ex-husband. Every conversation, every phone call, every e-mail ended up with the same result - he never really heard what I was saying to him. Especially towards the end. I told him over and over and over that if he didn't go to counselling to get his anger and jealousy in check, I WOULD END THE MARRIAGE. He NEVER heard that. Never. Ever. Obviously so, since we are no longer together.

I've been forwarding the crazy e-mails I get from Simon to my Divorce Twin, and she came up with her own summary of these conversations.

YOU: We need counselling.

HIM: My refrigerator is cold.

YOU: Simon, we need help. YOU need help.

HIM: Take that back. Or I'll take the keys and put them in the microwave.

YOU: Are you listening to me?!

HIM: Why are you so angry? You don't respect me! Green is the new yellow!

YOU: I'm leaving.

HIM: Sushi, much? What about the dogs? Zigazigah!

Seriously, it's that ridiculous. Do not write back to him. DO NOT write back to him.

It just goes to show you, art imitates life for a damn good reason.

Mazel Tov

Yesterday I attended my first wedding sans hubby. I took yesterday and today off work to prepare and recover. I almost didn't make it to the wedding because I was way too busy crying my heart out and generally feeling sorry for myself.

I'd been to one Jewish wedding before, and that was last summer, with Simon. So I thought I knew what to expect. Apparently Jewish weddings are just as diverse as any Western wedding so it was an entirely new experience for me.

I was doing okay as my friend, the Bride, was walking down the aisle. She looked absolutely stunning and radiant. I could see the joy and love emanating from her. That of course immediately brought back memories of my own walk down the aisle. I managed to suck back the tears as she walked past me and gave her the biggest smile I could muster.

During the ceremony, the Rabbi was extremely detailed in his explanations of the various customs and their history. I found this incredibly informative and very unlike last year's Jewish wedding where they didn't explain anything. I asked one of the guests later in the evening if this was done just for us non-Jews, and he said every wedding he'd been a part of, it was customary for the explanations to accompany the ceremony.

One part of the ceremony was the reading of the marriage contract, the Ketubah, which had been signed just prior to the gathering under the Huppah. This contract is signed by the Husband, and it states his obligations to the Wife. It includes the Seven Blessings and it is read aloud under the Huppah, in front of various Kosher dignitaries, making it a holy union as well as a legal contract.

The Rabbi said that even before the women's movement and women's rights were recognized, the Jewish people knew how important it is for men to honour women. It is so important that it is only the man who signs the contract. The Rabbi said that women are not made to sign a contract as their word is worth more than the word of the men. That got a big laugh from the guests.

That is when I became so incredibly overwhelmed that I burst into tears. I just kept thinking about how my husband has not honoured our marriage contract. I heard the Rabbi's words over and over in my mind, "Marriage is a holy union." Although I'm not religious, marriage is one of the few things I do consider to be holy.

(Let me quickly insert here that I believe EVERYONE has the right to get married, straight or gay. So when I say marriage is a holy thing, it doesn't mean that I think the Catholic church's definition is the only option.)

It took me a few minutes, but I managed to pull myself together and enjoyed the rest of the ceremony. I got very excited when the Groom smashed the wine glass with his right foot and all of us yelled "MAZEL TOV!"

The rest of the evening was a lot of fun. There was the crazy hoisting the Bride & Groom up on chairs and bouncing them up and down. And the traditional circle dancing to "Hava Nagila". As well as the obligatory never ending speeches, along with the drunken speech from the Best Man. And of course the bouquet toss.

I wasn't going to be a part of the toss at first. Although Simon and I are separated, with a signed agreement saying we can behave as though unmarried, I still feel obligated to him. In my heart, I am still married to him and until we get a divorce from the courts, I will continue to honour my vows. But my two friends felt otherwise and dragged me on to the dance floor where the Bride awaited to chuck a piece of her happiness into the pool of singletons, hoping her luck rubs off on them.

One! Two! Three! Four! and up it flew, then down it came, hitting me right in the knee. The bouquet dropped to the floor just a few inches in front of me. At first I didn't move. I was looking at it as if it were a snake ready to bite me. I looked around to see if anyone was making a move for it. No such luck. So I bent down and scooped it up. I looked up at the Bride and she had a big smile on her face. I walked up to her and mouthed the words "Number two". She gave me a hug and I whispered to her, "I'm sure your brother is wondering what the hell I'm doing catching the bouquet." She gave me an understanding smile.

The garter toss was next - it was caught by one of the groomsmen, who happened to be sitting at the table next to mine. Of course everyone at both tables were saying how we'll be married next, and maybe even marry each other! That's when I made a beeline for the bar.

Celebrity Splits

I was watching a show a few days ago, about the shortest Hollywood marriages. J.Lo's first marriage lasted just under a year, and her second marriage a year and a half. They featured a whole host of other celebs with failed marriages, lasting about as long as mine did.

Anyone who knows me can say without a doubt, I'm the biggest celebrity watcher/worshipper. I live and die for the latest Hollywood story. Up until last month, whenever a separation or divorce hit the headlines, I didn't think twice about it. It's "normal" in Hollywood for relationships to implode what seems like mere moments after having tied the knot.

Watching this show really did a number on me. I cannot even begin to imagine how horrifying it would be to go through a divorce in the public eye. I know how absolutely devestated I have been feeling. I can barely make it through a day without crying my eyes out. There have been days where I just lock myself inside and allow all of the hurt and misery to be fully expressed. I have to apologize to my cat for the strange noises and cursing he's been subjected to.

I feel awful for those celebs who have to go through the pain of a divorce, while fulfilling their public appearance committments. I have promised myself not to buy any magazines reporting the details of a couple's demise. Unless it has Britney's latest stupid escapade, then maybe I'll just thumb through it at the check out.

Times Two

My good friend separated from her husband about 2 weeks before Simon and I split up. Two good friends, going through exactly the same thing, at exactly the same time. Sadly we thought the life altering event we would share together would be getting pregnant.

It's a very unique and weird thing to have happen. I am finding it strange, and strangely comforting. I have a Divorce Twin - how many people can say that? I can say I've never been in a position where I have ever known EXACTLY what the other person is feeling. Of course, I could always empathize with my friends when they were going through hard times. But I've never been able to honestly say, "I exactly know how you are feeling at this moment". And in turn, I know that she really knows how I feel at any given moment.

I'm finding it a bit difficult to provide her the support I want to give her. Mainly because I'm too busy being upset/sad/angry/frustrated/depressed about the exact same thing.

We promised each other the next time we get divorces, we'll time them at least 6 months apart. How's that for morbid hilarity?

Naked

I was on the subway this morning on my way to work. I managed to get a seat today. Whenever I ride, I always look at people's hands. Specifically I look to see if they are wearing any rings. I have always done this. Before I was married, I was looking at ladies' hands to get ideas for what kind of engagement ring I would like. And of course, I would check out the guys' hands to see if the cute ones were single, taken, or just creeps for not wearing the ring but a tan line was clearly visable.

After getting married, I would constantly compare my engagement ring and wedding band to those around me. I would see all sorts of beautiful rings but I was still very satisfied with what I had. Silly I know, but hey, what else is there to do besides read the newspaper full of death and violence?

I finally took off my rings last week. I still wear a little diamond ring on my right hand which Simon had given me last May. It's a sweet, dainty little ring with 7 little diamonds all lined up in a row. It really sparkles for something so small. I had originally wanted it for my wedding band, but up against my mammoth 1.05 carat diamond engagement ring, it just got lost. Simon surprised me with it when he surprised me with dinner at the CN Tower on our 4 month wedding anniversary. It was the special fancy dinner we never had when we were in Vegas.

Today I was doing my usual looking-at-hands ritual and I was going to do my mental comparison when it hit me that I wasn't wearing my rings anymore. My symbols of matrimony were tucked away in a jewelry box at home.

Suddenly, my little mental game shifted. Now looking for the rings wasn't about jewelry comparison anymore. Now it was about which women on that subway car had a husband somewhere who loved them. Now it was about something they have which I no longer have. And then I became sad. And hopeless. And frustrated. And angry. And sad.

I started looking at their faces. Why is that young girl married already? Why is that ugly lady married? Why is that angry looking woman married? Forever and for always displayed right there on their hands. Don't they know I don't have that anymore? How can they scratch their cheek with their left hand? How can they hold onto the pole with their left hand? How is it they are happy when I'm not? What kind of men are they married to? Do they suffer in silence the way I have for the last 2 years? Or do they have happy, loving and fulfilling partnerships? What did they do right, and I do wrong?

I looked down at my little ring on my right hand. It's my little symbol of hope. The hope that one day my husband will do the right thing. That he'll do what it takes to piece our marriage back together. I know I'm just dragging out the healing process by holding on to hope in what seems to be a rather hopeless situation. But that's just me. I always hang on to the last threads until they cut into my skin. And as I bleed, I grasp for those threads which slice into me. And eventually, I let go. But not until I have held out to the bitter bloody end.

Wreckage

Simon came over yesterday to drop off the spare key to my car. About 30 seconds after letting him in, I started crying uncontrollably. Snot all down my face, big fat tears, body shaking sobs. And he didn't react to it at all. I hugged him, kissed his cheek, and tried to radiate all my love through every cell of my body, hoping that something in his body would absorb it.

I asked him if he would go to marriage counselling with me. He replied, "I can't answer that right now." Even with that statement, I was still determined to get through to him.

We tried making small talk, but I kept snapping answers at all his questions. A reflex from the endless interrogations through out our relationship. He started getting agitated with me.

He wants me to accept the blame for the things I did wrong in the relationship. Now for most people, it's very difficult to look inwards and recognize mistakes and apologize for the ugly things they have done. I have been digging deep within myself over the last 3 1/2 weeks to see if there was anything I could have done differently.

I could have been more patient. But my patience had run out. I could have kissed and made up more often than not. But how can I forgive the same sin over and over and over? I can honestly say from the bottom of my core, I am not to blame. Try explaining that to the bull that sees only red.

I can also say with certainty that 90% of the problem lies with Simon. I will accept 10% of the blame.

Simon told me he was extremely angry and hurt that I never took his feelings into consideration. How can I take into consideration feelings that are not based in reality? His reality is that I am a liar, a cheat and out to stab him in the heart. Not once in our entire relationship did I ever do anything remotely deserving of such rage and anger. Nonetheless, he wanted me to take his feelings into consideration. I just couldn't - and can never - take those feelings into account for anything other than the rantings of a delusional man.

It didn't take too long before the whole scene turned ugly. Screaming, crying, blaming, anger, anger, rage, rage.

He left. I cried for the rest of the day. I am grieving him as though he has died.

Foreshadowing

This blog was originally created to document how Simon and I fell in love and eloped to Vegas. I just finished going through and deleting all the posts except for one.

The posting I left in tact was about our first fight. That post, unfortunately, sums up our entire relationship.

I married my husband knowing full well that he did not trust me. I fooled myself into thinking that everything would be okay after we tied the knot. Part of the reason why I fooled myself was because I believed him when he said that everything would be okay after the wedding.

I had begged him to postpone the wedding until he could work out his trust issues. But he looked at me with tears in his eyes, and promised me that if I married him, everything would get better. By marrying him, I would be giving him the confidence he needed to truly trust me.

Ah, if I'd only known then what I know now. Wait...I did know it then. The demise of this marriage had been plainly put out there for me to see. I even detailed it in my blog! I just chose to ignore it. I chose to believe in love, and to believe in him.

Rule #1: NEVER go back on your deal breaker. I gave in with mine and now I'm heading to divorce court.