The large entertainment company I work for has been sold to an even larger entertainment company with various offices all over Canada.
I was having a look at the new company's locations and noticed there is one in Hamilton. As I was looking at this location's particulars, I thought to myself, "Maybe I could apply to that office and Simon and I could buy a house in Hamilton."
And then my brain stopped. And my heart stopped. And everything was suspended in time for what seemed like days.
Why do I keep doing this to myself? What the fuck is wrong with me? I am getting so tired of feeling like this. Why haven't I felt any relief yet? When is this going to stop?
Monday, September 24, 2007
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Reuse, Recycle
For those of you on Facebook, you'll know what I mean when I say that most people suffer from installing too many applications on their personal page. Admittedly, I am one of those people, but I'm not as bad as some people. Like my soon-to-be-ex-husband. He has a ridiculous amount of apps installed. One of which is for dedicating songs to people.
I am not a fan of making a song "ours". I have made it a point NOT to dedicate songs to men since Grade 7 when a boy named Sean broke my heart, after having given me Richard Marx's album "Repeat Offender" on tape, because it had our song "Right Here Waiting". That song broke my heart over and over for a good couple months and that's when I decided I would never let a boy ruin a song for me ever again.
I managed to stick to that rule until I met my husband. Simon and I met at karaoke. Obviously during our relationship, we went to a lot of karaoke bars. And even more obviously, we'd sing songs for each other. One of the songs Simon would dedicate to me is "Amazed" by Lonestar. It would start with something like, "This is for my wife. She's the best thing that's ever happened to me." And the song I would sing and (begrudgingly) dedicate to him is "Some Kind of Wonderful" by Grand Funk Railroad, as reinterpreted by Joss Stone. The only reason SKOW ended up becoming the dedication song was because I sang it the night we got engaged - at the karaoke bar where we first met.
The band I'm in does a cover of SKOW and during every performance Simon would expect, nay DEMAND, I dedicate the song to him. Again, I begrudgingly obliged. I thought it was fucking ridiculous that he expected this out of me EVERY TIME. I know it was more for the benefit of his ego, and to let every male in the audience know I was his woman.
After we broke up, and I broke the news to my band, I told them under no circumstances would we ever play SKOW again. They all understood and quickly researched other tunes to take its place. My favourite thus far is a Bonnie Raitt tune called, "Love Me Like a Man". Ha! You can bet I'll be dedicating that to Simon.
At any rate, last week Simon called me to make sure that everything was on track to us getting divorced. His exact words were, "Is our divorce going to be normal?" Normal? Normal?! What the fuck is NORMAL about a DIVORCE? I mentioned that we did not own any property together, nor did we share any spawn, so as far as I could tell, it should be NORMAL.
I found it interesting that he was concerned about ensuring our divorce moves along quickly. Simon is not the type of person to tie up loose ends. Case in point - he's never bothered to go to court to get a proper custody agreement between him and the mother of his child. Yet he complained endlessly about how his rights were being trodden on. I would hardly think he would be concerned with the details of our divorce proceedings. Unless ... he's ... already ... planning ... to ... PROPOSE TO HIS NEW GIRLFRIEND!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I called my brother after work that day and ordered him to check Simon's Facebook profile to see if anything has changed. The screen capture brought back this image:
I am not a fan of making a song "ours". I have made it a point NOT to dedicate songs to men since Grade 7 when a boy named Sean broke my heart, after having given me Richard Marx's album "Repeat Offender" on tape, because it had our song "Right Here Waiting". That song broke my heart over and over for a good couple months and that's when I decided I would never let a boy ruin a song for me ever again.
I managed to stick to that rule until I met my husband. Simon and I met at karaoke. Obviously during our relationship, we went to a lot of karaoke bars. And even more obviously, we'd sing songs for each other. One of the songs Simon would dedicate to me is "Amazed" by Lonestar. It would start with something like, "This is for my wife. She's the best thing that's ever happened to me." And the song I would sing and (begrudgingly) dedicate to him is "Some Kind of Wonderful" by Grand Funk Railroad, as reinterpreted by Joss Stone. The only reason SKOW ended up becoming the dedication song was because I sang it the night we got engaged - at the karaoke bar where we first met.
The band I'm in does a cover of SKOW and during every performance Simon would expect, nay DEMAND, I dedicate the song to him. Again, I begrudgingly obliged. I thought it was fucking ridiculous that he expected this out of me EVERY TIME. I know it was more for the benefit of his ego, and to let every male in the audience know I was his woman.
After we broke up, and I broke the news to my band, I told them under no circumstances would we ever play SKOW again. They all understood and quickly researched other tunes to take its place. My favourite thus far is a Bonnie Raitt tune called, "Love Me Like a Man". Ha! You can bet I'll be dedicating that to Simon.
At any rate, last week Simon called me to make sure that everything was on track to us getting divorced. His exact words were, "Is our divorce going to be normal?" Normal? Normal?! What the fuck is NORMAL about a DIVORCE? I mentioned that we did not own any property together, nor did we share any spawn, so as far as I could tell, it should be NORMAL.
I found it interesting that he was concerned about ensuring our divorce moves along quickly. Simon is not the type of person to tie up loose ends. Case in point - he's never bothered to go to court to get a proper custody agreement between him and the mother of his child. Yet he complained endlessly about how his rights were being trodden on. I would hardly think he would be concerned with the details of our divorce proceedings. Unless ... he's ... already ... planning ... to ... PROPOSE TO HIS NEW GIRLFRIEND!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I called my brother after work that day and ordered him to check Simon's Facebook profile to see if anything has changed. The screen capture brought back this image:
ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?
Let me say that again.
ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?
Never mind that he is already saying "I love you" to someone he only met at most 2 months ago. He's using the SAME song and the SAME DEDICATION.
How many times has he used this song with the women who came before me? That song was released in 2000, so it's entirely possible he dedicated that song to his first wife, 2nd engagement, 3rd engagement, 4th engagement & mother of his child, and then me. Lucky Number 5. And now Ms. Anderson has the dubious honour of being Number 6.
After finding out this piece of information, I went back to my band at rehearsal (conveniently that very same night) and told them about Simon's penchant for recycling. And then I told my band that I was taking that song back. I was going to follow Simon's environmentally friendly ways and TAKE THAT FUCKING SONG BACK.
Not only is it MY song again, I plan on dedicating it to whomever is standing in front of me any time I sing it. And it will be because THEY are the best thing that's ever happened to me.
Monday, September 17, 2007
Burned
I had a dream about Simon last night. I dreamt I was in my bed smoking a cigarette because I was so upset about him. (I don't smoke.) I noticed the ashes at the end of my cigarette formed a point like a pencil. So I started to draw with my ashes. I drew pictures of Simon and myself.
Then Simon walked into my bedroom and I crumpled up the drawings so he couldn't see. We went into the living room and took off all our clothes and laid down on the futon. He asked to see my drawings. At first I said no, because I didn’t want him to know I was still thinking about him and missing him. And then I changed my mind and said okay since it looked like we were going to get back together, given the fact we were there naked together.
I climbed on top of him and started hugging him and kissing his face. He looked at my drawings and started to laugh a bit. And I pulled back and looked at him and his face had changed into an exboyfriend of mine who was also extremely abusive.
I asked him if he still wanted to be with me and he said no. I asked why. He said because he didn’t care about me anymore. He didn’t care about my kiss and my touch. I got up and walked away, back into my bedroom. I could hear him calling me back but I ignored him.
I closed the door and lay back down in my bed. I picked up what was left of my cigarette and kept smoking it right down to the butt. I almost burned myself with the last drag. I threw it onto the floor when it was finished. That’s when I woke up.
Then Simon walked into my bedroom and I crumpled up the drawings so he couldn't see. We went into the living room and took off all our clothes and laid down on the futon. He asked to see my drawings. At first I said no, because I didn’t want him to know I was still thinking about him and missing him. And then I changed my mind and said okay since it looked like we were going to get back together, given the fact we were there naked together.
I climbed on top of him and started hugging him and kissing his face. He looked at my drawings and started to laugh a bit. And I pulled back and looked at him and his face had changed into an exboyfriend of mine who was also extremely abusive.
I asked him if he still wanted to be with me and he said no. I asked why. He said because he didn’t care about me anymore. He didn’t care about my kiss and my touch. I got up and walked away, back into my bedroom. I could hear him calling me back but I ignored him.
I closed the door and lay back down in my bed. I picked up what was left of my cigarette and kept smoking it right down to the butt. I almost burned myself with the last drag. I threw it onto the floor when it was finished. That’s when I woke up.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
And Also With You
Wedding Number 2 happened yesterday and overall, I had fun. But not without moments of utter melancholy and hysterical crying.
I started the morning with my usual crying jags in the shower and while blow drying my hair. Had to reapply the make-up only once. Changed my outfit about 3 times before settling on a silver sparkly top with black pants. Yes, pants. I was not in the mood to be girlie or to shave my legs.
My friends (check Mazel Tov posting) picked me up from Yorkdale and we drove out to Mississauga for the ceremony. It was an 11am mass at the local Polish Catholic church. I was waiting to burst into flames passing through the front door, as I haven't been to church since my cousin's wedding back in 2004. I managed to escape the wrath of God and found a seat in the third row.
I was surprised by how much I remember of what to do during mass. My friends who are Jewish were truly amused (or bemused?) by the pomp and circumstance surrounding Catholic mass. They were perplexed by where the organ music and vocalist were coming from (above and behind us in the balcony) and by the amount of getting up, sitting down and kneeling that was required. (Every week? Yes. Why? That's how Catholics get their exercise.)
Since it was a traditional mass, communion was served, er...performed. My mother was extremely devout, so as a kid, I was baptised and communion-ized. I was waffling on whether or not I should take communion as I do not believe in most of what the Catholic church proclaims to be the word of God. However, I erred on the side of caution and took communion.
Since my break-up, I have become extremely superstitious in partaking in whatever ritual is required by the particular faith. At my DT's wedding, I didn't have any of her cake. At my wedding, nothing traditional was included. And both of our marriages went into the toilet. So at the weddings I've attended this year, I've been especially careful to observe ALL traditions.
I made it through the ceremony tear free. We hit the receiving line early and then made a mad dash back to North York to hang for 4 hours. My friends kept me well fed with some traditional fish for Jewish New Year, and kept me very amused with reality programming on their 42" plasma wide screen TV. We also went through their wedding proofs and I helped pick out the keepers. All tear free. :)
We were fashionably late for the reception in Brampton, at a very fancy golf club. First stop was the hors d'oeuvres table and the bar. I started feeling like the third wheel. Whenever my girlfriend wanted to go to the bar, she would send her husband and she'd stay to "babysit" me. I think my face was getting sadder and sadder because they kept bringing me more and more alcohol.
Everyone at our table was coupled off, except for me. Even the two single guys at the table had arrived together and were seated together. I felt like the 9th wheel. As the evening progressed, I regressed more and more into myself. I just concentrated on taking lots of pictures while everyone else was participating in some lively conversation.
As dessert was served, the DJ announced the special father/daughter and mother/son dance was about to take place. I put down my fork and grabbed the camera to capture this special moment. Of course, this brought back memories of the fact that I did not have this traditional dance with my Dad because we never ended up having a proper reception. I could feel the tears starting to burn my eyes so I went back to the table and resumed eating my wonderful mocha cheesecake.
About half way through the song, the DJ asked everyone to join the family on the dance floor. My entire table set down their forks and got up to go to the dance floor. Everyone, except for me that is. Even the single guys had somehow managed to find a partner for this dance. It must have been via ESP because I certainly did not observe them asking anyone prior to that moment.
I looked around and pretty much everyone was on the dance floor. And boy could I feel those tears burning out my eyes. Now I really had to concentrate on eating my cheesecake. I was having an incredibly hard time swallowing the cheesecake because that damned lump in my throat was fighting very hard to come up.
When I thought I had everything under control, my friends came back to the table and asked me to dance with them. "No, that's okay. You guys go, have fun. I'm just eating my cheesecake." They insisted I go with them. "Come on, dance with us! We want you to dance with us!" Begrudgingly I obliged and set down my fork.
I took exactly three steps onto the dance floor and the lump in my throat won out. I broke out into hysterical tears. Thank goodness the music was really loud because I'm sure the sounds of my choking on my tears would have put a slight damper on everyone's evening.
I ran back to my table, with my friends close behind. I grabbed my napkin and buried my face in it. Of course, the song ended at that moment and the rest of my table were heading back to finish the rest of their cheesecake. I had to make a quick recovery before anyone noticed. I think I managed only to fool myself.
The rest of the night involved shots and dancing. And some crying in the bathroom. And a guy who kept asking me to dance, but he was short and I was upset. He got me a shot too.
At the end of the night, I went to the bride to say my goodbyes and of course, starting sobbing uncontrollably. I tried my best to keep it together for her, but in the end I couldn't.
A lot of my tears had to do with the fact that my friends are marrying good men. I married a bad man. I know my friends' new hubbies are going to treat them with respect and decency. My husband did not respect me one ounce. I know my friends are going to have long, happy and productive marriages. My marriage was short lived and produced nothing but heart ache.
Two down, one more to go. My brother's wedding in 2 weeks. We'll see how long it takes before the tears and the lumps win out.
Friday, September 14, 2007
Seconds
Just when you think you know someone, you find out there is way more underneath than you could have ever imagined.
I am finding this to be more and more true as I get the opportunity to hash out my feelings with my friends and family.
I have been stunned twice this week, by revelations that people I know who are in marriages of 20+ years have in fact been married once before.
It's not like I don't know people who are on their second marriage. I know quite a few, and they have been incredibly supportive and vocal about the fact that I did the right thing, and I WILL BE OKAY. (Caps are for my benefit.) However, these two particular cases revealed themselves to me in moments where I didn't even realize how desperate I was for some hope.
Both of these people are in incredibly stable, loving, productive and happy marriages. And both of these people went through a short-lived first marriage. It really blew my mind because had they not told me, I would have never in a million years guessed they were on their second.
I am starting to feel hopeful. I am starting to feel a teeny bit better about all of this. I can see a pinpoint of light at the end of this really long tunnel I am traversing. I am carrying so much with me, but I am slowly shedding it and leaving it behind. And these two people provided me with a moment of light where I could see hope.
I am finding this to be more and more true as I get the opportunity to hash out my feelings with my friends and family.
I have been stunned twice this week, by revelations that people I know who are in marriages of 20+ years have in fact been married once before.
It's not like I don't know people who are on their second marriage. I know quite a few, and they have been incredibly supportive and vocal about the fact that I did the right thing, and I WILL BE OKAY. (Caps are for my benefit.) However, these two particular cases revealed themselves to me in moments where I didn't even realize how desperate I was for some hope.
Both of these people are in incredibly stable, loving, productive and happy marriages. And both of these people went through a short-lived first marriage. It really blew my mind because had they not told me, I would have never in a million years guessed they were on their second.
I am starting to feel hopeful. I am starting to feel a teeny bit better about all of this. I can see a pinpoint of light at the end of this really long tunnel I am traversing. I am carrying so much with me, but I am slowly shedding it and leaving it behind. And these two people provided me with a moment of light where I could see hope.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Chicken
Just skin me and marinate me, because I am a big fat CHICKEN.
I took my sedative an hour prior to the MRI, just as it was prescribed, and it did NOTHING for me. I panicked and cried and generally flipped out. The MRI technician was a sweet lady and hugged me, patted my head and sent me home.
My friend who had driven me to the hospital took me back to her place to make me some food and help me calm down. When we arrived, I sat down on her couch and unceremoniously passed out cold. For 14 hours.
Apparently, the instructions should have read "take 2 hours prior to the procedure".
I took my sedative an hour prior to the MRI, just as it was prescribed, and it did NOTHING for me. I panicked and cried and generally flipped out. The MRI technician was a sweet lady and hugged me, patted my head and sent me home.
My friend who had driven me to the hospital took me back to her place to make me some food and help me calm down. When we arrived, I sat down on her couch and unceremoniously passed out cold. For 14 hours.
Apparently, the instructions should have read "take 2 hours prior to the procedure".
Monday, September 10, 2007
MRI
Back in November 2005, I started getting brutal migraines that would last for days. I chalked it up to stress with the job I had back then (my boss hated my guts).
I went to the doctor of course, and he ordered an MRI. I tried to do it in February 2006, but it turns out that I'm a big chicken shit. Or as they like to call it, claustrophobic. I've been cancelling and rescheduling this thing for over a year. In the meantime, the migraines have stopped.
At my friend's 40th birthday party back in April, the right side of my face went numb for absolutely no reason. And since then, I experience numbness about as often as I had the migraines. So now I'm thinking whatever was causing the migraines, is now causing the numbness.
I suppose I have to go get this done. I'm convinced I have a tumour and it's all due to the stress of my marriage, and now my separation.
If they do find a tumour in there, I'm going to name it Simon, have them cut it out, and then mail it to him.
Wish me luck on Wednesday folks.
I went to the doctor of course, and he ordered an MRI. I tried to do it in February 2006, but it turns out that I'm a big chicken shit. Or as they like to call it, claustrophobic. I've been cancelling and rescheduling this thing for over a year. In the meantime, the migraines have stopped.
At my friend's 40th birthday party back in April, the right side of my face went numb for absolutely no reason. And since then, I experience numbness about as often as I had the migraines. So now I'm thinking whatever was causing the migraines, is now causing the numbness.
I suppose I have to go get this done. I'm convinced I have a tumour and it's all due to the stress of my marriage, and now my separation.
If they do find a tumour in there, I'm going to name it Simon, have them cut it out, and then mail it to him.
Wish me luck on Wednesday folks.
Friday, September 07, 2007
NBN
As I expected, Simon already has a girlfriend. It took him exactly 52 days to get over the love of his life. That's gotta be some sort of rebound record.
My first hint was a transaction in his bank account. I still have access to the account because he hasn't bothered to go get me removed. So I check it every now and again to see if he's won a million bucks to which I would most definitely be entitled half. I noticed he deposited a hefty sum of cash, to the tune of $1000. Interesting, seeing as he spent the last 7 months on EI. Then I noticed a stop at the LCBO. And then I spotted a trip to Naughty But Nice.
For those of you who don't regularly visit such establishments, Naughty But Nice is a chain of stores specializing in sex toys, gadgets, lubricants, and fetish gear. Simon and I never visited NBN in our entire relationship. And that's solely due to the fact that I refused to be his personal porno star.
According to Simon, I am a "nun", a "prude" and there is "something definitely wrong" with me because I don't have crazy-swinging-from-the-ceiling sex. I don't even have sometimes-on-the-couch-in-the-middle-of-the-day sex.
When I would politely refuse his suggestions, he would get so fucking mad at me. He would SCREAM at me in bed. One particular gem went something like this, "YOU CAN'T KEEP A MAN SATISFIED IN BED, THAT'S WHY NONE OF YOUR OTHER RELATIONSHIPS EVER WORKED OUT." Take a moment and imagine how absolutely humiliating that is - having your spouse scream at you while you are naked in bed about to make love. I'm sure that would make anyone feel super sexy and willing to put out.
I am a very plain person when it comes to hitting the sheets. I prefer to do it in a bed (shocking), with the lights off, and in the same position. If something works, don't break it. I tried different positions with him (and other partners for that matter), but they never got me the big "O". They were just extremely uncomfortable and embarrassing. So why do it in a way that doesn't satisfy me, just so Simon can get his porn star rocks off?
My second hint was his Facebook profile suddenly becoming private. Obviously he's got something to hide now, when for over a year his FB has been public.
My third and final clue was an email from one of his friends from high school, ranting about what an asshole he is for flaunting his new tart in his "Relationship Status" on his FB profile. Since I couldn't see it for myself, I enlisted the help of my brother who still has Simon listed as a friend on FB - which up until that moment pissed me off to no end.
My brother begrudgingly sent me a screen shot. Simon's status is "Simon is awesome!!" and he listed himself in a relationship on September 4th.
I could spend the next 37 hours or so explaining all the different kinds of hurt I am feeling. But I will simply sum it up with this point.
Simon could go fuck the stars of every porno ever made. That absolutely would not bother me. But the fact that he's fucking someone, AND giving her the special status of GIRLFRIEND so quickly after I abdicated the special status of WIFE - well, that really burns my skirt.
That fact alone makes me want to send him an email saying he was right all along. I fucked everyone he ever accused me of fucking. And not only did I fuck them all, I went to NBN with each of them, picked out the sluttiest outfits in stock, and screwed in public places all over the city in positions the Kama Sutra couldn't ever imagine.
But of course that would get me no where. Just like the last two years of my life got me no where.
My first hint was a transaction in his bank account. I still have access to the account because he hasn't bothered to go get me removed. So I check it every now and again to see if he's won a million bucks to which I would most definitely be entitled half. I noticed he deposited a hefty sum of cash, to the tune of $1000. Interesting, seeing as he spent the last 7 months on EI. Then I noticed a stop at the LCBO. And then I spotted a trip to Naughty But Nice.
For those of you who don't regularly visit such establishments, Naughty But Nice is a chain of stores specializing in sex toys, gadgets, lubricants, and fetish gear. Simon and I never visited NBN in our entire relationship. And that's solely due to the fact that I refused to be his personal porno star.
According to Simon, I am a "nun", a "prude" and there is "something definitely wrong" with me because I don't have crazy-swinging-from-the-ceiling sex. I don't even have sometimes-on-the-couch-in-the-middle-of-the-day sex.
When I would politely refuse his suggestions, he would get so fucking mad at me. He would SCREAM at me in bed. One particular gem went something like this, "YOU CAN'T KEEP A MAN SATISFIED IN BED, THAT'S WHY NONE OF YOUR OTHER RELATIONSHIPS EVER WORKED OUT." Take a moment and imagine how absolutely humiliating that is - having your spouse scream at you while you are naked in bed about to make love. I'm sure that would make anyone feel super sexy and willing to put out.
I am a very plain person when it comes to hitting the sheets. I prefer to do it in a bed (shocking), with the lights off, and in the same position. If something works, don't break it. I tried different positions with him (and other partners for that matter), but they never got me the big "O". They were just extremely uncomfortable and embarrassing. So why do it in a way that doesn't satisfy me, just so Simon can get his porn star rocks off?
My second hint was his Facebook profile suddenly becoming private. Obviously he's got something to hide now, when for over a year his FB has been public.
My third and final clue was an email from one of his friends from high school, ranting about what an asshole he is for flaunting his new tart in his "Relationship Status" on his FB profile. Since I couldn't see it for myself, I enlisted the help of my brother who still has Simon listed as a friend on FB - which up until that moment pissed me off to no end.
My brother begrudgingly sent me a screen shot. Simon's status is "Simon is awesome!!" and he listed himself in a relationship on September 4th.
I could spend the next 37 hours or so explaining all the different kinds of hurt I am feeling. But I will simply sum it up with this point.
Simon could go fuck the stars of every porno ever made. That absolutely would not bother me. But the fact that he's fucking someone, AND giving her the special status of GIRLFRIEND so quickly after I abdicated the special status of WIFE - well, that really burns my skirt.
That fact alone makes me want to send him an email saying he was right all along. I fucked everyone he ever accused me of fucking. And not only did I fuck them all, I went to NBN with each of them, picked out the sluttiest outfits in stock, and screwed in public places all over the city in positions the Kama Sutra couldn't ever imagine.
But of course that would get me no where. Just like the last two years of my life got me no where.
Monday, September 03, 2007
AH
I got the call on Friday morning about my ring. And as expected, the message left was for Simon.
I drove up there after work to pick it up. I didn't want to delay picking it up, just in case Simon shows up there buying something for the person I'm sure he's already sleeping with. (I'll get to that in another post.)
I let the receptionist know I was there to pick up a ring. She waved me around the corner to the desk. There were about 3 sales people along with the receptionist all hanging around. I guess ring sales are slow during the Labour Day weekend.
She asked me for either the work order receipt, or some identification. My heart stopped. I don't have any ID with my married name. I never legally changed it - a point of contention with Simon - again, a story for another post. I panicked for what seemed to be a good 30 seconds. Then I remembered shoving the receipt into my purse. Thank goodness I shove EVERYTHING into my purse. I dug around and found the magic paper.
She sent one of the sales people to the vault to get my ring. As I was waiting, one of the sales people asked me what I was picking up. Again, my brain went into stupid mode and it took me a moment to come up with the answer. I finally managed to string together, "I had my ring sized down to a pinkie ring". The guy just kind of looked at me funny. I guess Spence is so entrenched in promoting engagement/wedding rings, the people who work there are not capable of imagining a ring being worn on any other finger other than the left ring finger.
The first sales guy came back and presented me with a little blue box. I opened it, and there was my ring, all sparkling and shiny, waiting for me to slip it on. Which I did immediately. Everyone oohed and aahed over it. I thank them and start to leave when the receptionist stopped me. Again, my heart stops. The jig is up. They've figured out that Simon and I aren't together anymore and they are going to charge me for the sizing.
"You need to sign this receipt acknowledging you've picked up the ring."
Ah, yes. Sign for the ring. Stupid stupid me.
I grinned sheepishly and mumbled something about my mind already being on long weekend mode. I picked up the pink pen (honestly, can they get anymore hokey?) and started signing my name. I got through my first name just fine, and as I started my last name, I realized that I should probably sign it with my married name. I didn't know whether to cry or throw up. I wished them all a nice long weekend and ran the hell out of the store.
Anyway, here it is. I have to admit, it looks way cuter than I thought it would. Thanks Oprah.
I drove up there after work to pick it up. I didn't want to delay picking it up, just in case Simon shows up there buying something for the person I'm sure he's already sleeping with. (I'll get to that in another post.)
I let the receptionist know I was there to pick up a ring. She waved me around the corner to the desk. There were about 3 sales people along with the receptionist all hanging around. I guess ring sales are slow during the Labour Day weekend.
She asked me for either the work order receipt, or some identification. My heart stopped. I don't have any ID with my married name. I never legally changed it - a point of contention with Simon - again, a story for another post. I panicked for what seemed to be a good 30 seconds. Then I remembered shoving the receipt into my purse. Thank goodness I shove EVERYTHING into my purse. I dug around and found the magic paper.
She sent one of the sales people to the vault to get my ring. As I was waiting, one of the sales people asked me what I was picking up. Again, my brain went into stupid mode and it took me a moment to come up with the answer. I finally managed to string together, "I had my ring sized down to a pinkie ring". The guy just kind of looked at me funny. I guess Spence is so entrenched in promoting engagement/wedding rings, the people who work there are not capable of imagining a ring being worn on any other finger other than the left ring finger.
The first sales guy came back and presented me with a little blue box. I opened it, and there was my ring, all sparkling and shiny, waiting for me to slip it on. Which I did immediately. Everyone oohed and aahed over it. I thank them and start to leave when the receptionist stopped me. Again, my heart stops. The jig is up. They've figured out that Simon and I aren't together anymore and they are going to charge me for the sizing.
"You need to sign this receipt acknowledging you've picked up the ring."
Ah, yes. Sign for the ring. Stupid stupid me.
I grinned sheepishly and mumbled something about my mind already being on long weekend mode. I picked up the pink pen (honestly, can they get anymore hokey?) and started signing my name. I got through my first name just fine, and as I started my last name, I realized that I should probably sign it with my married name. I didn't know whether to cry or throw up. I wished them all a nice long weekend and ran the hell out of the store.
Anyway, here it is. I have to admit, it looks way cuter than I thought it would. Thanks Oprah.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
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:
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.
Monday, August 27, 2007
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.
Saturday, August 25, 2007
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
(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.
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.
Monday, August 20, 2007
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.
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.
Saturday, August 18, 2007
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.
"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.
Friday, August 17, 2007
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.
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.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
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.
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.
Saturday, August 11, 2007
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?
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?
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
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.
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.
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
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.
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.
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