Seven days later and I'm still bloated, still sore, and still alone.
I just re-read my last post...what does a girl have to do to get a little bit of attention from the guy she really likes? One would think surgery would do it, but not in this case.
I have heard zilch from my Butterfly since those few fleeting text messages after my surgery. No emails, no phone calls, no text messages, no smoke signals, and no pigeons (although there are a few nesting on my balcony, none came with a note).
NOTHING
NOTHING
NOTHING
Which is what I should be feeling for him now. NOTHING. He has shown me beyond a shadow of a doubt that he is a grade-A-son-of-a-bitch-loser-mother-fucker.
But last night I was lying in bed wishing on a star, hoping with all my might, that he would contact me. He's leaving tomorrow for a 2 week vacation to Portugal. His Facebook status says "Butterfly wants your home address if You want a postcard from him." I am soooooooo tempted to email him my address. But I know I'll only be disappointed when he doesn't send me a postcard. Just like he didn't call me this WHOLE week. I'm housebound, and he's currently between jobs so there's nothing stopping us from being together for a few hours.
Okay, I think I'm done being a whiny loser. But you gotta cut me some slack. It was the first guy I allowed myself to care about since my husband. Since LAST SUMMER! I knew it would be hard, and I knew it would hurt, but I didn't anticipate it would suck this badly.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Ms. Appendectomy
I had quasi-emergency surgery at 1:30am yesterday morning. It was to remove my inflamed-but-getting-close-to-bursting appendix. I am really glad I listened to my body enough to get myself to the doctor for the diagnosis.
The pain started on Sunday night, after eating a few hamburgers my brother had cooked on the BBQ. I figured my tummy just wasn't liking my brother's cooking. I was running a fever and feeling super duper nauseous. I slept it off and woke up Monday morning ready to take on the world! Well, I was ready to get my annual physical from my family doctor, aka hand-up-in-my-junk exam. I skipped breakfast knowing he would be sending me for blood work, which usually requires at least 8 hours of fasting.
I was feeling fine during my examination so I figured whatever was bugging my tummy the night before had worked its way out. Along with the blood work, my doctor wanted me to get an x-ray on my left leg to make sure I didn't break it from dropping a box on it 6 months ago. There's still a bruise which is tender to the touch.
As I was waiting for my x-ray, I started to feel a bit queasy. Then as I was getting my blood drawn, I was feeling down right vomit-ious. Of course, I chalked it up to not having had anything to eat since the disaster burgers the night before. The remedy for nausea is of course, getting a cheeseburger Happy Meal from McDonald's on the drive back to Toronto.
I got to the office at about 2pm and by 3pm, I was running a fever and feeling down right bad. I left the office at 4pm and when I got home, I called Telehealth Ontario. After being on hold and then getting on the call back list (there's even a wait time for a phone service!), a nurse listened to me describe my symptoms and suggested I see a doctor within 4 hours. And upon that advice, I ate a plain piece of bread and passed out around 9pm.
Tuesday morning arrived and with it, more pain. There was no sleeping off whatever this was. I emailed work to let them know I would be going to the doctor and would probably be in the next day. Famous last words!
The doctor at the clinic took a look at me for about 2 seconds and declared me to be suffering from appendicitis. He asked me if anyone had come with me, to which the answer was no, as I don't have a husband or even a boyfriend. He advised me to "get someone" and get my ass to a hospital ASAP.
I called my Faux Beau and of course, he came to my rescue (as per usual). I checked into the ER at 2pm on the "urgent care" list. Two hours later I was finally examined, on a chair outside of the nurses station. Apparently, they were all full up, not an empty bed in sight. My doctor was this beautiful, delicate, picture-perfect woman. I wanted to punch her for that, and for telling me they were going to yank out my appendix. I started to cry and she told me to save my tears for later. Later? Later?! Like how about right at that moment when I realized that my family was 2 hours away, my cat was at home unfed, and I had my FAUX beau there with me instead of my HUSBAND or even my Butterfly.
I sucked it up long enough to get an ultrasound which took an hour and a half because my appendix was hiding behind all sorts of gas in my bowels. The technician couldn't get a clear picture so she suggested a vaginal ultrasound. Sure! Why not?! That's exactly what I needed - a condom covered wand that would make all my dreams come true. Sadly, that was the most action I'd seen since my Butterfly faded away.
Still with no appendix in sight, the technician called in not one, but two doctors. Thankfully there wasn't going to be a repeat wand-up-the-vajayjay. However they had me half twisted on the exam table and jabbing me mercilessly with the ultrasound wand. Finally the gas passed enough for them to get a picture of my appendix. Yup, as suspected, it was angry and inflamed.
They shipped me back to the ER to await my doom, er, the surgeon. At this point my Divorce Twin had arrived. She did quite a routine to keep my mind off the impending abdominal slicing. When my surgeon finally arrived around 8:30pm, both DT and I fell in love with him. He was the CUTEST thing EVER! Tall, brown hair, bluuuuuue eyes, slightly unshaven. Heaven in scrubs!
He explained the surgery to me and asked if I had any questions. (Question: How many of these have you done? Answer: 500, all lived to tell the tale.) When he left my room, my DT suggested I should ask him out. Ha! Really, how do you ask out someone who's about to go head first into your bowels? I took a pass on that one.
Midnight came and went and so did DT as she had an early morning meeting with her boss that was not to be missed. Faux Beau let me play with his blackberry and I updated my Facebook status to let everyone know I was going under the knife sooner rather than later.
Then it was time to go up to the OR. This is the part where I really wished I was in the alternate universe where Simon was not insane and still my husband and holding my hand as they wheeled me into prep. This is the part where I wished my Butterfly wasn't so fucking neurotic and afraid of his feelings and was beside me, holding my hand while the anesthesiologist was explaining how he was going to shove a tube down my throat to keep me alive during surgery. This is the part where I wondered why someone who is as smart and funny and wonderful as me was lying there by herself, having to face her own mortality because of a little useless organ that decided to get angry.
My heart rate hit 166 beats per minute before the anesthetic kicked in and knocked my sorry ass out.
Faux Beau told me it took about 2 hours before they brought me out of recovery. Apparently I had a hard time waking up. He emailed my dad & brothers to let them know I was alive and then headed home to get some much needed sleep. It was 4:30am and I was lying in a bed with 3 shiny new cuts in my belly. I was lying there shivering, in pain, and ALONE.
I fell in and out of consciousness until about 9am. My McDreamy Surgeon came in to check on me and he told me a bunch of stuff I can't remember because I was totally STONED on MORPHINE. Again, another reason why it's better to have someone with you during life changing events.
Later, when I could make out solid shapes, I turned on my cell phone and there were a few worried text messages from my Butterfly. Yay! He actually cared!! I responded to let him know I was alive. He sent a message back asking where I was. Yay! He's going to come and visit!! I sent him the info. He asked me if they'd given me jello. Yes, I said. What colour, he asked. Red! I said! And then NOTHING. I truly must have been stoned out of my mind to think he'd actually show up.
Faux Beau, DT and my friend Jason all arrived in the afternoon with tea, flowers and jogging pants respectively. They kept me entertained while I ate my shitty hospital food and then packed me up and brought me home. My cat had thrown up while I was away. He does that if I don't let him know I'll be gone overnight. It's touching, yet sad that the only creature on this planet who throws up if I'm gone, licks his own balls.
And then I was alone, again. And again I was wishing for that alternate universe where Simon would be taking care of me. Or where Butterfly would be over, trying to make me laugh but not because it hurt my stitches. Or another universe where there was SOMEONE, who loved me in the biblical sense, taking care of me.
Sleep last night was excruciating. I should have stayed in the hospital where my fancy bed could maneuver me into a position that didn't feel like my stomach was being ripped apart. I should have stayed so that I could pull on the cord and someone (although paid for it) who gave a shit would come help me to the bathroom.
This experience reinforced why it is that I so badly want to be in a relationship now. Alone hurts. Alone and scared hurts more. Alone and facing the unknown is truly unbearable.
The pain started on Sunday night, after eating a few hamburgers my brother had cooked on the BBQ. I figured my tummy just wasn't liking my brother's cooking. I was running a fever and feeling super duper nauseous. I slept it off and woke up Monday morning ready to take on the world! Well, I was ready to get my annual physical from my family doctor, aka hand-up-in-my-junk exam. I skipped breakfast knowing he would be sending me for blood work, which usually requires at least 8 hours of fasting.
I was feeling fine during my examination so I figured whatever was bugging my tummy the night before had worked its way out. Along with the blood work, my doctor wanted me to get an x-ray on my left leg to make sure I didn't break it from dropping a box on it 6 months ago. There's still a bruise which is tender to the touch.
As I was waiting for my x-ray, I started to feel a bit queasy. Then as I was getting my blood drawn, I was feeling down right vomit-ious. Of course, I chalked it up to not having had anything to eat since the disaster burgers the night before. The remedy for nausea is of course, getting a cheeseburger Happy Meal from McDonald's on the drive back to Toronto.
I got to the office at about 2pm and by 3pm, I was running a fever and feeling down right bad. I left the office at 4pm and when I got home, I called Telehealth Ontario. After being on hold and then getting on the call back list (there's even a wait time for a phone service!), a nurse listened to me describe my symptoms and suggested I see a doctor within 4 hours. And upon that advice, I ate a plain piece of bread and passed out around 9pm.
Tuesday morning arrived and with it, more pain. There was no sleeping off whatever this was. I emailed work to let them know I would be going to the doctor and would probably be in the next day. Famous last words!
The doctor at the clinic took a look at me for about 2 seconds and declared me to be suffering from appendicitis. He asked me if anyone had come with me, to which the answer was no, as I don't have a husband or even a boyfriend. He advised me to "get someone" and get my ass to a hospital ASAP.
I called my Faux Beau and of course, he came to my rescue (as per usual). I checked into the ER at 2pm on the "urgent care" list. Two hours later I was finally examined, on a chair outside of the nurses station. Apparently, they were all full up, not an empty bed in sight. My doctor was this beautiful, delicate, picture-perfect woman. I wanted to punch her for that, and for telling me they were going to yank out my appendix. I started to cry and she told me to save my tears for later. Later? Later?! Like how about right at that moment when I realized that my family was 2 hours away, my cat was at home unfed, and I had my FAUX beau there with me instead of my HUSBAND or even my Butterfly.
I sucked it up long enough to get an ultrasound which took an hour and a half because my appendix was hiding behind all sorts of gas in my bowels. The technician couldn't get a clear picture so she suggested a vaginal ultrasound. Sure! Why not?! That's exactly what I needed - a condom covered wand that would make all my dreams come true. Sadly, that was the most action I'd seen since my Butterfly faded away.
Still with no appendix in sight, the technician called in not one, but two doctors. Thankfully there wasn't going to be a repeat wand-up-the-vajayjay. However they had me half twisted on the exam table and jabbing me mercilessly with the ultrasound wand. Finally the gas passed enough for them to get a picture of my appendix. Yup, as suspected, it was angry and inflamed.
They shipped me back to the ER to await my doom, er, the surgeon. At this point my Divorce Twin had arrived. She did quite a routine to keep my mind off the impending abdominal slicing. When my surgeon finally arrived around 8:30pm, both DT and I fell in love with him. He was the CUTEST thing EVER! Tall, brown hair, bluuuuuue eyes, slightly unshaven. Heaven in scrubs!
He explained the surgery to me and asked if I had any questions. (Question: How many of these have you done? Answer: 500, all lived to tell the tale.) When he left my room, my DT suggested I should ask him out. Ha! Really, how do you ask out someone who's about to go head first into your bowels? I took a pass on that one.
Midnight came and went and so did DT as she had an early morning meeting with her boss that was not to be missed. Faux Beau let me play with his blackberry and I updated my Facebook status to let everyone know I was going under the knife sooner rather than later.
Then it was time to go up to the OR. This is the part where I really wished I was in the alternate universe where Simon was not insane and still my husband and holding my hand as they wheeled me into prep. This is the part where I wished my Butterfly wasn't so fucking neurotic and afraid of his feelings and was beside me, holding my hand while the anesthesiologist was explaining how he was going to shove a tube down my throat to keep me alive during surgery. This is the part where I wondered why someone who is as smart and funny and wonderful as me was lying there by herself, having to face her own mortality because of a little useless organ that decided to get angry.
My heart rate hit 166 beats per minute before the anesthetic kicked in and knocked my sorry ass out.
Faux Beau told me it took about 2 hours before they brought me out of recovery. Apparently I had a hard time waking up. He emailed my dad & brothers to let them know I was alive and then headed home to get some much needed sleep. It was 4:30am and I was lying in a bed with 3 shiny new cuts in my belly. I was lying there shivering, in pain, and ALONE.
I fell in and out of consciousness until about 9am. My McDreamy Surgeon came in to check on me and he told me a bunch of stuff I can't remember because I was totally STONED on MORPHINE. Again, another reason why it's better to have someone with you during life changing events.
Later, when I could make out solid shapes, I turned on my cell phone and there were a few worried text messages from my Butterfly. Yay! He actually cared!! I responded to let him know I was alive. He sent a message back asking where I was. Yay! He's going to come and visit!! I sent him the info. He asked me if they'd given me jello. Yes, I said. What colour, he asked. Red! I said! And then NOTHING. I truly must have been stoned out of my mind to think he'd actually show up.
Faux Beau, DT and my friend Jason all arrived in the afternoon with tea, flowers and jogging pants respectively. They kept me entertained while I ate my shitty hospital food and then packed me up and brought me home. My cat had thrown up while I was away. He does that if I don't let him know I'll be gone overnight. It's touching, yet sad that the only creature on this planet who throws up if I'm gone, licks his own balls.
And then I was alone, again. And again I was wishing for that alternate universe where Simon would be taking care of me. Or where Butterfly would be over, trying to make me laugh but not because it hurt my stitches. Or another universe where there was SOMEONE, who loved me in the biblical sense, taking care of me.
Sleep last night was excruciating. I should have stayed in the hospital where my fancy bed could maneuver me into a position that didn't feel like my stomach was being ripped apart. I should have stayed so that I could pull on the cord and someone (although paid for it) who gave a shit would come help me to the bathroom.
This experience reinforced why it is that I so badly want to be in a relationship now. Alone hurts. Alone and scared hurts more. Alone and facing the unknown is truly unbearable.
Thursday, June 05, 2008
Brush and Rinse
Girl misses boy.
Girl wants to send boy an email.
Girl knows better than to lay herself out like a doormat (even more so than she has already).
Girl posts would-be-email here.
"So I came home and found your toothbrush laying helpless in the sink. It looked like she was trying to commit suicide. My toothbrush was still confined to his holder. I'm not sure if he had anything to do with assisting her in flinging herself off the edge. I've called in the SIU with this case.
I picked her up and cradled her in my hand. She looked up at me with her gorgeous blue & white eyes and asked me why you haven't been around.
I shook my head and shrugged. I sort of know the answer, but I'm still not really clear. And being a believer in not passing along misinformation, I didn't answer her question.
She asked me to pass along a message to you. She wants you to come back soon, it's safe here.
So that's all. I'm just passing along the message..."
Girl wants to send boy an email.
Girl knows better than to lay herself out like a doormat (even more so than she has already).
Girl posts would-be-email here.
"So I came home and found your toothbrush laying helpless in the sink. It looked like she was trying to commit suicide. My toothbrush was still confined to his holder. I'm not sure if he had anything to do with assisting her in flinging herself off the edge. I've called in the SIU with this case.
I picked her up and cradled her in my hand. She looked up at me with her gorgeous blue & white eyes and asked me why you haven't been around.
I shook my head and shrugged. I sort of know the answer, but I'm still not really clear. And being a believer in not passing along misinformation, I didn't answer her question.
She asked me to pass along a message to you. She wants you to come back soon, it's safe here.
So that's all. I'm just passing along the message..."
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
Flatline
Things between me and my butterfly are pretty much dead. He cancelled a sleep over last night. He said it just wasn't in the cards for him, as he's in a "bad head space".
What the fuck is a bad head space? Honestly, I don't get that. How bad can your head be to turn down SEX?!
I know that when I dumped Simon, I was in the worst emotional state of my life. But my head still had enough sense in it to recognize that I shouldn't start a relationship that I couldn't fully participate in.
Butterfly started a relationship with me, and is now backing out because he's not emotionally equipped to deal with it.
I wish he would have just said from the beginning, "All I want is sex from you, whenever I want it. Don't make plans with me, don't introduce me to your friends, just boo-tay please and thanks." That way I could have made an informed decision about whether to get involved. But that's not what happened. He wooed me. He played the part of a boyfriend, which is what I was looking for.
So with that, I quit. Again.
Never again.
Never again.
Never again.
Never again...
What the fuck is a bad head space? Honestly, I don't get that. How bad can your head be to turn down SEX?!
I know that when I dumped Simon, I was in the worst emotional state of my life. But my head still had enough sense in it to recognize that I shouldn't start a relationship that I couldn't fully participate in.
Butterfly started a relationship with me, and is now backing out because he's not emotionally equipped to deal with it.
I wish he would have just said from the beginning, "All I want is sex from you, whenever I want it. Don't make plans with me, don't introduce me to your friends, just boo-tay please and thanks." That way I could have made an informed decision about whether to get involved. But that's not what happened. He wooed me. He played the part of a boyfriend, which is what I was looking for.
So with that, I quit. Again.
Never again.
Never again.
Never again.
Never again...
Sunday, June 01, 2008
Final Countdown
In 32 hours, my Divorce Twin will be filing her second set of court papers. And in 30 days, she'll have a shiny new divorce decree.
In 44 days and 8 hours, I'll be filing my second set of court papers. And then you'll find me passed out in a bar somewhere shortly thereafter. I won't be drinking to drown my sorrows, I'll be drinking to celebrate my freedom!
As identical as this experience has been for me and my DT, there is one fundamental difference. I'm happy about it being over. She's profoundly sad. I am having a hard time providing her support at this point in time because I'm just so bloody happy it's almost done. I'm sure she doesn't want to hear how happy I am.
DT - I love you. You are amazing and strong and even though you are sad, you will be okay. I'm going to keep telling you this until one day you will look in the mirror and realize it's true. It's okay. It'll all be okay. You have the strength to do this, I promise.
Twelve months ago, the beginning of the end arrived. It was June 2007 when everything started to unravel at a speed I couldn't manage. Watching my life dissolve before my very eyes was overwhelming to say the least.
And now sitting here, with twelve months in between that life and this life, all I can do is breathe. Big breath in, and all of it out. My life is better, but not. My outlook is clear, but fuzzy. My hope for the future is there, but not at all. Conundrum. I never really understood the weight of that word until now.
I've had to patch myself back together, piece by microscopic piece. I don't think I've found all the pieces yet. I don't think I ever will. Some were completely obliterated on July 15, 2007. But for the most part, the core of me has been reset to where I was prior to meeting my husband.
I wish life could be like a computer. You can always reboot when everything crashes.
In 44 days and 8 hours, I'll be filing my second set of court papers. And then you'll find me passed out in a bar somewhere shortly thereafter. I won't be drinking to drown my sorrows, I'll be drinking to celebrate my freedom!
As identical as this experience has been for me and my DT, there is one fundamental difference. I'm happy about it being over. She's profoundly sad. I am having a hard time providing her support at this point in time because I'm just so bloody happy it's almost done. I'm sure she doesn't want to hear how happy I am.
DT - I love you. You are amazing and strong and even though you are sad, you will be okay. I'm going to keep telling you this until one day you will look in the mirror and realize it's true. It's okay. It'll all be okay. You have the strength to do this, I promise.
Twelve months ago, the beginning of the end arrived. It was June 2007 when everything started to unravel at a speed I couldn't manage. Watching my life dissolve before my very eyes was overwhelming to say the least.
And now sitting here, with twelve months in between that life and this life, all I can do is breathe. Big breath in, and all of it out. My life is better, but not. My outlook is clear, but fuzzy. My hope for the future is there, but not at all. Conundrum. I never really understood the weight of that word until now.
I've had to patch myself back together, piece by microscopic piece. I don't think I've found all the pieces yet. I don't think I ever will. Some were completely obliterated on July 15, 2007. But for the most part, the core of me has been reset to where I was prior to meeting my husband.
I wish life could be like a computer. You can always reboot when everything crashes.
Monday, May 26, 2008
Flutter
After two weeks of not talking to my butterfly, I broke down and sent a message via FB. It simply said, "Why aren't you talking to me anymore?"
I got back a huge diatribe. My favourite line was, "I offended you grandly, you offended me specifically." I replied with a simple, "I'm sorry. I miss you." And I got back another long diatribe, at the end of which was "I miss you too."
That was enough for me. Seriously, he had me at hello. (groan) So I sucked up my pride and made nice.
We went for a walk on Thursday and made small talk. I linked my pinky around his. He squeezed my hand. At the end of our walk, he gave me a really great hug and said "sorry" in my ear. I would have given him anything at that moment had he asked.
We made plans for the next night, dinner and a movie. Dinner was great. Lots of smiling and genuine conversation. Then it was back to my place.
We never did end up watching the movie...
I got back a huge diatribe. My favourite line was, "I offended you grandly, you offended me specifically." I replied with a simple, "I'm sorry. I miss you." And I got back another long diatribe, at the end of which was "I miss you too."
That was enough for me. Seriously, he had me at hello. (groan) So I sucked up my pride and made nice.
We went for a walk on Thursday and made small talk. I linked my pinky around his. He squeezed my hand. At the end of our walk, he gave me a really great hug and said "sorry" in my ear. I would have given him anything at that moment had he asked.
We made plans for the next night, dinner and a movie. Dinner was great. Lots of smiling and genuine conversation. Then it was back to my place.
We never did end up watching the movie...
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Jerk Punch
I think there should be a law that allows women to punch men in the balls with brass knuckles when they act like assholes in a relationship.
Men are like dogs, you have to train them. And I think if men knew a brass knuckled punch in the balls was a consequence for their actions, that would probably make them think at least twice before going ahead with said asshole-ish action.
I saw my dead butterfly outside of the office yesterday. I know he saw me. And he didn't even acknowledge my existence. That hurt my feelings on top of everything else he did to hurt them.
A solid jerk punch should be allowed in this case.
Men are like dogs, you have to train them. And I think if men knew a brass knuckled punch in the balls was a consequence for their actions, that would probably make them think at least twice before going ahead with said asshole-ish action.
I saw my dead butterfly outside of the office yesterday. I know he saw me. And he didn't even acknowledge my existence. That hurt my feelings on top of everything else he did to hurt them.
A solid jerk punch should be allowed in this case.
Thursday, May 08, 2008
I'm Worth It?
My good friend's husband has this to say about my dead butterflies. I think it's absolutely correct. I'm posting it here so I can come back and reference it whenever I need a reminder.
“Men are LAZY. They will only treat you well enough to keep you. The reason I treat my wife so well is because if I didn't, she'd be GONE IN 60 SECONDS. The reason she'd be gone is because she KNOWS she's worth it, and DEMANDS that level of respect. The reason men walk all over Paprika is because she doesn't like herself enough to believe that she deserves better. She SAYS that she loves herself and she's confident, but if that were true, she wouldn't spend so much time worrying about "What does THIS mean? What does THAT mean? What does it mean when he does THIS?" You want to know the correct answer to those questions? WHO CARES? Even if you're going to lie awake at night worrying about how your relationship is going, trust me, HE'S NOT. You talk about what you WANT (I want him to want to spend time, call, think about me, whatever). If what you want has to come from someone else, you're never going to be happy.”
“Men are LAZY. They will only treat you well enough to keep you. The reason I treat my wife so well is because if I didn't, she'd be GONE IN 60 SECONDS. The reason she'd be gone is because she KNOWS she's worth it, and DEMANDS that level of respect. The reason men walk all over Paprika is because she doesn't like herself enough to believe that she deserves better. She SAYS that she loves herself and she's confident, but if that were true, she wouldn't spend so much time worrying about "What does THIS mean? What does THAT mean? What does it mean when he does THIS?" You want to know the correct answer to those questions? WHO CARES? Even if you're going to lie awake at night worrying about how your relationship is going, trust me, HE'S NOT. You talk about what you WANT (I want him to want to spend time, call, think about me, whatever). If what you want has to come from someone else, you're never going to be happy.”
Wednesday, May 07, 2008
Dead Butterflies
So much for that. Just when it was feeling so good, it crashed and burned.
Perhaps I'm just meant to be alone. Perhaps I'm not worthy of anyone to care about me for more than a minute.
Somehow my crazy ex-husband can convince a woman to carry his baby while he's living in his parents' basement without a car and is still married to me.
I can't convince the guy I was dating to spend more than one evening a week with me.
Let's say it together - WTF?!
I'm going to NYC next week. I think I may have to follow in the foot steps of Kim Cattrell's character of Samantha in "Sex and the City". Find me a random hottie and just fuck him.
Perhaps I'm just meant to be alone. Perhaps I'm not worthy of anyone to care about me for more than a minute.
Somehow my crazy ex-husband can convince a woman to carry his baby while he's living in his parents' basement without a car and is still married to me.
I can't convince the guy I was dating to spend more than one evening a week with me.
Let's say it together - WTF?!
I'm going to NYC next week. I think I may have to follow in the foot steps of Kim Cattrell's character of Samantha in "Sex and the City". Find me a random hottie and just fuck him.
Saturday, May 03, 2008
Stranger Love
Lately I've been getting a lot of hugs from either total strangers or slight acquaintances. I don't know if I have some sort of pathetic look on my face, but people (mostly men) have felt the need to put their arm around me in comfort.
I've had a coworker, a film director, a band mate, a doctor and a mechanic all scoop me into their arms. Some have even kissed me on the forehead.
Do I look sad? I don't feel sad. And I'm finally all the way off my antidepressants. I am happy to report that I feel totally fine. I've been a little sick lately with blocked sinuses, but other than that, this is the happiest I've been in a long time.
Maybe it's because I'm just way too cute. So totally cute that these men can't help themselves. :)
Or maybe the universe is showing me some love. Either way, it's nice. Sometimes a little weird, but nice.
I've had a coworker, a film director, a band mate, a doctor and a mechanic all scoop me into their arms. Some have even kissed me on the forehead.
Do I look sad? I don't feel sad. And I'm finally all the way off my antidepressants. I am happy to report that I feel totally fine. I've been a little sick lately with blocked sinuses, but other than that, this is the happiest I've been in a long time.
Maybe it's because I'm just way too cute. So totally cute that these men can't help themselves. :)
Or maybe the universe is showing me some love. Either way, it's nice. Sometimes a little weird, but nice.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Baby Mama #2
Not only does Simon collect wives, he collects baby mamas. I found out through a friend of mine that he's gotten his current girlfriend pregnant. My friend wanted to break the news to me gently so she asked me out to dinner last night. She didn't want me to find out the way she did, via Facebook. Apparently, both Simon's profile picture and the baby mama's is a close up shot of the positive pee stick. (Eeewww!)
Now before you all shake your head thinking it was a mistake, I also found out that it was planned.
Planned?
PLANNED?
P.L.A.N.N.E.D?!?!?!?!
HELLOOOOOOOO? MCFLY?! Did you forget about your first daughter, for whom you can't provide child support? Did you forget you are living in your parents' basement? Did you forget you make minimum wage? Did you forget you don't own a car? Did you forget you don't even know how to file your own taxes?
Two words come to mind - mandatory sterilization.
And a few more words come to mind - thank GOD it's not me.
Now before you all shake your head thinking it was a mistake, I also found out that it was planned.
Planned?
PLANNED?
P.L.A.N.N.E.D?!?!?!?!
HELLOOOOOOOO? MCFLY?! Did you forget about your first daughter, for whom you can't provide child support? Did you forget you are living in your parents' basement? Did you forget you make minimum wage? Did you forget you don't own a car? Did you forget you don't even know how to file your own taxes?
Two words come to mind - mandatory sterilization.
And a few more words come to mind - thank GOD it's not me.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Bingo
I have a huge smile on my face. And it's because a man put it there last night. :)
Butterflies...
Butterflies...
Monday, April 21, 2008
Red Flags
The Hot Docs Film Festival is in full swing, and I'm the Head Theatre Rep at the Al Green venue.
I was walking along Bloor on my way to the theatre yesterday, when I managed to catch a whiff of a guy's cologne who was walking in the opposite direction. It was Dolce & Gabbana, the exact same cologne that Simon wears.
Shudder.
My heart stopped for a good 10 seconds. I actually had to turn around to make sure it wasn't him. I knew smells could conjure up memories, but I didn't realize how strong of an association smell has with particularly bad memories.
I managed to recover from my slight heart attack and started my shift. Part of my job is making sure the directors who are in attendance are well taken care of. My 9pm screening had a director with the last name of Simon.
Double shudder.
Good thing I'm allowed to call them by their first name (Marc).
In that same screening, a young couple came with their baby boy. Of course, all of us girls were cooing over the little guy. I asked the father the baby's name. Simon.
Triple shudder.
I had to take a moment before I could regain my power of speech and continue cooing over Simon.
So, if you've taken a moment to tally, you can see there were three very distinct Simon signs. I have an eerie feeling that some sort of confrontation is going to happen. Things happen in threes for a reason. And I don't think those signs could have been any more clear.
I officially have my guard up. Here's to hoping it's just a false alarm.
I was walking along Bloor on my way to the theatre yesterday, when I managed to catch a whiff of a guy's cologne who was walking in the opposite direction. It was Dolce & Gabbana, the exact same cologne that Simon wears.
Shudder.
My heart stopped for a good 10 seconds. I actually had to turn around to make sure it wasn't him. I knew smells could conjure up memories, but I didn't realize how strong of an association smell has with particularly bad memories.
I managed to recover from my slight heart attack and started my shift. Part of my job is making sure the directors who are in attendance are well taken care of. My 9pm screening had a director with the last name of Simon.
Double shudder.
Good thing I'm allowed to call them by their first name (Marc).
In that same screening, a young couple came with their baby boy. Of course, all of us girls were cooing over the little guy. I asked the father the baby's name. Simon.
Triple shudder.
I had to take a moment before I could regain my power of speech and continue cooing over Simon.
So, if you've taken a moment to tally, you can see there were three very distinct Simon signs. I have an eerie feeling that some sort of confrontation is going to happen. Things happen in threes for a reason. And I don't think those signs could have been any more clear.
I officially have my guard up. Here's to hoping it's just a false alarm.
Friday, April 18, 2008
Friday, March 28, 2008
Worst Day Ever
I called the Superior Court of Justice this morning to see if my divorce application had been cleared by Ottawa. Much to my surprise, it was back!!!
My stomach started doing flips and my heart started beating a million beats a second. I called my DT to let her know about the amazing news! She immediately called the court to see if hers was back too - it was!!!
We made plans to meet at the courthouse at 3:30pm so we could file the 2nd and final set of papers.
I scrambled around my apartment grabbing all my documentation - original application, original separation agreement, original marriage certificate and anything else I thought I would need.
I was late for work, but I didn't care. I was flying high and nothing was going to pull me down! I sent out an email to everyone I know announcing the good news. I told my coworkers that I was leaving at 3pm to go get my divorce!! I felt like I had won the superball of all lotteries.
My DT was freaking out in a different way. She was terrified and crying and doubting everything. I told her it was going to be FINE. I would carry her on my back if I had to, to get her through these last steps.
I was the happiest girl in the world until 4pm, when much to my horror, I was told by the court that they would NOT process my application until on or after July 15th, as that date is the one year anniversary of my separation. And the law says I must be separated for a year. And the court must uphold the law.
Which begs me to ask, why did Ottawa clear my application?
WTF?!
If Ottawa says it's okay, then the court should also say it's okay! If my application was not compliant with the law, then Ottawa should not have cleared it, and put it on hold until such time that it becomes compliant with the law.
Now I know why people send bombs in the mail to the Government.
I have 16 more exruciating weeks until I can go back and have them process the application. I'm taking Tuesday July 15th off of work, going to the court at 8am, be first in line, get it done, and then head to the nearest pub. If any of you care to join me I'll be grateful for the company, and for y'all scraping me off the floor and making sure I get home in one piece.
My stomach started doing flips and my heart started beating a million beats a second. I called my DT to let her know about the amazing news! She immediately called the court to see if hers was back too - it was!!!
We made plans to meet at the courthouse at 3:30pm so we could file the 2nd and final set of papers.
I scrambled around my apartment grabbing all my documentation - original application, original separation agreement, original marriage certificate and anything else I thought I would need.
I was late for work, but I didn't care. I was flying high and nothing was going to pull me down! I sent out an email to everyone I know announcing the good news. I told my coworkers that I was leaving at 3pm to go get my divorce!! I felt like I had won the superball of all lotteries.
My DT was freaking out in a different way. She was terrified and crying and doubting everything. I told her it was going to be FINE. I would carry her on my back if I had to, to get her through these last steps.
I was the happiest girl in the world until 4pm, when much to my horror, I was told by the court that they would NOT process my application until on or after July 15th, as that date is the one year anniversary of my separation. And the law says I must be separated for a year. And the court must uphold the law.
Which begs me to ask, why did Ottawa clear my application?
WTF?!
If Ottawa says it's okay, then the court should also say it's okay! If my application was not compliant with the law, then Ottawa should not have cleared it, and put it on hold until such time that it becomes compliant with the law.
Now I know why people send bombs in the mail to the Government.
I have 16 more exruciating weeks until I can go back and have them process the application. I'm taking Tuesday July 15th off of work, going to the court at 8am, be first in line, get it done, and then head to the nearest pub. If any of you care to join me I'll be grateful for the company, and for y'all scraping me off the floor and making sure I get home in one piece.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Faux Beau No More
I fixed up my Faux Beau with a friend of mine. They hit it off and are now happily coupled.
So no more movie cuddle fests for me.
I guess I have to work on finding a real beau. Yeesh.
So no more movie cuddle fests for me.
I guess I have to work on finding a real beau. Yeesh.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Just Because
Sometimes I need to be childish in expressing my anger towards Simon.
Ahhh. I feel better.Sunday, March 09, 2008
Get Your Own Wardrobe
A friend of mine told me that Simon has another new girlfriend. It's all over his Facebook page, but what else is new. Ppffftttt.
Both his and her profile have a picture of the two of them. The thing that strikes me about the pictures is that he's still wearing the same clothes that I bought for him when we were together. And he's still wearing the watch that I gave him for Christmas 2005.
As with most gifts, I put a lot of thought into them. And if it takes me weeks to find the perfect gift, then I will put in that time. And usually cost is not a deciding factor.
The watch I gave him was a special edition Fossil watch, made specifically for The Matrix movie in 1999. He loves The Matrix trilogy. I searched high and low for that watch. I eventually found it on Ebay, in Korea. I paid a pretty penny for that watch. I made sure it would be delivered in time for him to open it on Christmas morning.
He loved it (of course) and whenever someone would pay him a compliment on the watch, he'd be sure to let them know that his wife gave him the watch as a Christmas present. He got a LOT of compliments on that watch. It really is a freaking cool watch.
So I wonder what he says now? I wonder what he told his current girlfriend about the watch. I wonder what he tells new people about the watch. Imagine, he's at karaoke with his new gf, and the waitress notices the watch. "Here's your beer. Wow, that's a really great watch! Where did you get it?"
I would hope it would go something like this:
Idiot Boy: "Thanks. Yeah, it's a really nice watch."
Waitress: "So where did you get it?"
IB: "Um, my wife gave it to me."
W: (turning to new gf) "Oh wow, you must really love him."
GF: "I'm not his wife."
(awkward silence)
W: "Well, just let me know if you want anything else."
GF: "You should stop wearing that watch."
I can imagine the same scenarios with his clothes, because I got him some really awesome stuff. And I hope everytime he gets dressed in the morning, he looks in the mirror and he sees my face. And I hope he chokes on it. And I hope she chokes on it too when she's doing his laundry. Especially his underwear, cuz I bought them for him too.
Double Ppffffftttt.
Both his and her profile have a picture of the two of them. The thing that strikes me about the pictures is that he's still wearing the same clothes that I bought for him when we were together. And he's still wearing the watch that I gave him for Christmas 2005.
As with most gifts, I put a lot of thought into them. And if it takes me weeks to find the perfect gift, then I will put in that time. And usually cost is not a deciding factor.
The watch I gave him was a special edition Fossil watch, made specifically for The Matrix movie in 1999. He loves The Matrix trilogy. I searched high and low for that watch. I eventually found it on Ebay, in Korea. I paid a pretty penny for that watch. I made sure it would be delivered in time for him to open it on Christmas morning.
He loved it (of course) and whenever someone would pay him a compliment on the watch, he'd be sure to let them know that his wife gave him the watch as a Christmas present. He got a LOT of compliments on that watch. It really is a freaking cool watch.
So I wonder what he says now? I wonder what he told his current girlfriend about the watch. I wonder what he tells new people about the watch. Imagine, he's at karaoke with his new gf, and the waitress notices the watch. "Here's your beer. Wow, that's a really great watch! Where did you get it?"
I would hope it would go something like this:
Idiot Boy: "Thanks. Yeah, it's a really nice watch."
Waitress: "So where did you get it?"
IB: "Um, my wife gave it to me."
W: (turning to new gf) "Oh wow, you must really love him."
GF: "I'm not his wife."
(awkward silence)
W: "Well, just let me know if you want anything else."
GF: "You should stop wearing that watch."
I can imagine the same scenarios with his clothes, because I got him some really awesome stuff. And I hope everytime he gets dressed in the morning, he looks in the mirror and he sees my face. And I hope he chokes on it. And I hope she chokes on it too when she's doing his laundry. Especially his underwear, cuz I bought them for him too.
Double Ppffffftttt.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Jordan
One of the loose ends I've been wanting to tie up is saying a proper goodbye to my stepdaughter Jordan.
I loved her as if she were my own. And she was very easy to love because she was just such an adorable and pleasant little girl.
So it broke my heart that I didn't get the chance to let her know even though things didn't work out between me and her father, I will always hold her in a special place in my heart.
The last time I saw Simon face to face was before Christmas (see post "Wreckage Part III"), and I had asked him what he had told Jordan about our separation. The answer of course, was nothing because Simon has no clue about reality, let alone child rearing.
I couldn't put my finger on why this has been bothering me so much, to the point where I was starting to obsess about it. A session with my therapist shed some much needed light on this subject. Did I mention how much I am loving therapy?
As I was explaining the situation to my therapist, I started to cry pretty hard about it. I don't think I've cried that hard in a session since just after having thrown Simon out. The last time I saw Jordan, I told her I'd see her again real soon. And then poof, I vanished and Simon did nothing to explain why.
I made the connection to my mother's death, and how I've had zero closure with that. The last time I saw my mother alive was probably about a week before she passed away. I remember crying really hard, not wanting to leave her. She hugged and kissed me and promised she'd see me again real soon. And then poof, she vanished. I wasn't allowed to go to the funeral (neither did my brothers). I never got to see her again to have a final goodbye.
I remember for years after her death thinking it was all a mistake. After all, she had promised she'd see me again real soon. And my mom would never lie to me.
I didn't want what happened to me to happen to Jordan. Obviously I'm not her mother. And obviously I'm not on her top 10 list of most important people. But she was a loving little girl who bonded to me very quickly and I just didn't want her to be confused.
My therapist asked me what it was I wanted to do to bring me some closure. I told her that I wanted to write to Gillian, Jordan's mother, and simply say that I would have liked to have said goodbye in person. Since the circumstances didn't allow for me to do that, I wanted Gillian to at least explain to Jordan that I am saying goodbye.
So with my therapist's blessing, I sent an email to Gillian. Here it is, with the response I received.
To: Gillian <*******@yahoo.com>
Date: Fri, Feb 22, 2008 at 5:21 PM
Subject: Loose Ends
Hi Gillian,
I'm not sure what Simon has told you, but he and I have been separated since July. I served him with divorce papers this past Monday. The whole thing should be finalized by the summer.
I wanted to let you know that I think of Jordan often. You have an amazing little girl who is so sweet and smart. You have done a fantastic job bringing her up.
I never got a chance to say goodbye to Jordan in person, and that has been a loose end I've wanted to tie up. So I thought I would just send you this email and if you feel it is appropriate, please let her know that she has and always will have a special place in my heart.
I wish you, Jordan, Jeff and your baby boy all the happiness in world.
From: Gillian <*******@yahoo.com>
Date: Fri, Feb 22, 2008 at 7:17 PM
Subject: RE: Loose Ends
Hi.
I did actually know you were separated. I'm sorry things didn't work out. Jordan was upset when she heard and she still talks about you a lot. Trust me, I know how special she is! :)
Thank you for saying I had anything to do with that; she's just a super special little thing. I definitely will tell her - actually I will show her this email so she will know. I can tell you in advance that she will be very happy to hear from you.
Thanks, and the best to you too. Onwards and upwards!
gillian
In the moment it took me to read her response, I experienced something which I have never experienced before - closure.
Closure is peaceful, kind, quiet and light. I am grateful for this gift that Gillian has given me.
I loved her as if she were my own. And she was very easy to love because she was just such an adorable and pleasant little girl.
So it broke my heart that I didn't get the chance to let her know even though things didn't work out between me and her father, I will always hold her in a special place in my heart.
The last time I saw Simon face to face was before Christmas (see post "Wreckage Part III"), and I had asked him what he had told Jordan about our separation. The answer of course, was nothing because Simon has no clue about reality, let alone child rearing.
I couldn't put my finger on why this has been bothering me so much, to the point where I was starting to obsess about it. A session with my therapist shed some much needed light on this subject. Did I mention how much I am loving therapy?
As I was explaining the situation to my therapist, I started to cry pretty hard about it. I don't think I've cried that hard in a session since just after having thrown Simon out. The last time I saw Jordan, I told her I'd see her again real soon. And then poof, I vanished and Simon did nothing to explain why.
I made the connection to my mother's death, and how I've had zero closure with that. The last time I saw my mother alive was probably about a week before she passed away. I remember crying really hard, not wanting to leave her. She hugged and kissed me and promised she'd see me again real soon. And then poof, she vanished. I wasn't allowed to go to the funeral (neither did my brothers). I never got to see her again to have a final goodbye.
I remember for years after her death thinking it was all a mistake. After all, she had promised she'd see me again real soon. And my mom would never lie to me.
I didn't want what happened to me to happen to Jordan. Obviously I'm not her mother. And obviously I'm not on her top 10 list of most important people. But she was a loving little girl who bonded to me very quickly and I just didn't want her to be confused.
My therapist asked me what it was I wanted to do to bring me some closure. I told her that I wanted to write to Gillian, Jordan's mother, and simply say that I would have liked to have said goodbye in person. Since the circumstances didn't allow for me to do that, I wanted Gillian to at least explain to Jordan that I am saying goodbye.
So with my therapist's blessing, I sent an email to Gillian. Here it is, with the response I received.
To: Gillian <*******@yahoo.com>
Date: Fri, Feb 22, 2008 at 5:21 PM
Subject: Loose Ends
Hi Gillian,
I'm not sure what Simon has told you, but he and I have been separated since July. I served him with divorce papers this past Monday. The whole thing should be finalized by the summer.
I wanted to let you know that I think of Jordan often. You have an amazing little girl who is so sweet and smart. You have done a fantastic job bringing her up.
I never got a chance to say goodbye to Jordan in person, and that has been a loose end I've wanted to tie up. So I thought I would just send you this email and if you feel it is appropriate, please let her know that she has and always will have a special place in my heart.
I wish you, Jordan, Jeff and your baby boy all the happiness in world.
From: Gillian <*******@yahoo.com>
Date: Fri, Feb 22, 2008 at 7:17 PM
Subject: RE: Loose Ends
Hi.
I did actually know you were separated. I'm sorry things didn't work out. Jordan was upset when she heard and she still talks about you a lot. Trust me, I know how special she is! :)
Thank you for saying I had anything to do with that; she's just a super special little thing. I definitely will tell her - actually I will show her this email so she will know. I can tell you in advance that she will be very happy to hear from you.
Thanks, and the best to you too. Onwards and upwards!
gillian
In the moment it took me to read her response, I experienced something which I have never experienced before - closure.
Closure is peaceful, kind, quiet and light. I am grateful for this gift that Gillian has given me.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
08-FD-336102 - Part I
I am really glad that I had my Divorce Twin with me when I filed for divorce. It was a weird and unorganized building, with weird and unorganized people. I know the government has a bad rep for being totally ass-backwards, but for some reason I thought that was just a misconception perpetuated by people for whom the system did not smile down in their favour. I was wrong. The whole damn place was a disaster and it's no wonder why people constantly curse how our tax dollars are being spent.
We came off the elevator onto the 10th floor of 393 University Ave. There weren't any clear labels as to where we were. Just a big bulletin board with a ton of paper tacked to it. We looked to the right, and then to the left, and then down to our forms to make sure we got the right floor. Yup, 10th floor. We decided to go to the left.
A big mess of cubicles with a bunch of people meandering aimlessly was the scene we were met with. DT and I looked at each other and were both thinking the same thing - there is no way THIS is an official courthouse. We went back into the hallway to see if we had missed something, like a worm hole to get us out of there. No such luck.
We went back into the maze and saw a sign that said we were to get a number, with an arrow pointing to the left. So we look to the left. And all we see are more messy cubicles with more confused people wandering around. There was nothing indicating where we were to get a number.
I finally noticed a sign that said "Information" hanging over a desk that was placed haphazardly in the middle of the messy cubicles and wandering people. There were several stanchions around the desk, but they weren't placed in a manner which indicated where the line was to form. So we stood at the end of the stanchions, where we believed the line was to start. There was a man already at the desk speaking with the attendant. So we waited.
The attendant behind the desk waved us over. "How can I help you?" I say, "We're here to file for divorce." He looked up at the both of us, with a quizzical look on his face. DT piped up with, "Not from each other!" The lady behind us started laughing her head off.
He took a look at our forms and told us we would need to make copies, and gave us each a number. He pointed us in the direction of the copy room. It turns out that the government charges you FIFTY CENTS PER PAGE to use their shitty old photocopiers. If the stupid website had said anything about needing an extra copy, I would have just made it at work for FREE. Geez.
After spending $5 between the two of us, we went back into the crazy room and took a seat. It wasn't too long before my number came up and I made my way over to one of the messy cubicles.
The lady there looked like a pleasant woman. She said hello and asked me what I was there for. I said, "I'm filing for divorce." Now, I don't know what I was expecting her response to be, as I'm sure she deals with thousands of filings a year. But I was expecting something. I'm a young, nice looking girl. I would think a simple "Oh I'm sorry to hear that" would have sufficed. But she said nothing.
She took my papers and started typing, typing, typing. She had a fan turned on, it was set up just behind her monitor. My papers kept getting caught up in the breeze. Type, type, paper blowing, catch, type, type, paper blowing, catch, type, type. It was amusing at first. I wondered how long she would continue to just let the papers blow away. Then it got annoying. What should have taken her maybe 5 minutes had turned into 10 minutes because she had to stop every 10 seconds to keep my papers from flying away.
I wanted to scream "JUST ANGLE THE FUCKING FAN TWO MILLIMETERS TO THE LEFT" but instead, I looked around at the chaos behind the cubicles. One word sums it up - PAPER. Piles of paper everywhere. I'm sure to the untrained, non governmental eye it looks like a mess. But to those who have pledged their lives to making our legal system the fine bureaucratic machine it is, I was in fact looking at the most advanced filing system on the planet. Yeah right. After the lady finished playing blow and catch with my paperwork, she wrote a case number on it, signed it, stamped it, sealed it and asked me for payment. It cost me $167 (GST included!) for all that nonsense. She told me to go back to the information desk to be given instructions on what the next steps are.
We came off the elevator onto the 10th floor of 393 University Ave. There weren't any clear labels as to where we were. Just a big bulletin board with a ton of paper tacked to it. We looked to the right, and then to the left, and then down to our forms to make sure we got the right floor. Yup, 10th floor. We decided to go to the left.
A big mess of cubicles with a bunch of people meandering aimlessly was the scene we were met with. DT and I looked at each other and were both thinking the same thing - there is no way THIS is an official courthouse. We went back into the hallway to see if we had missed something, like a worm hole to get us out of there. No such luck.
We went back into the maze and saw a sign that said we were to get a number, with an arrow pointing to the left. So we look to the left. And all we see are more messy cubicles with more confused people wandering around. There was nothing indicating where we were to get a number.
I finally noticed a sign that said "Information" hanging over a desk that was placed haphazardly in the middle of the messy cubicles and wandering people. There were several stanchions around the desk, but they weren't placed in a manner which indicated where the line was to form. So we stood at the end of the stanchions, where we believed the line was to start. There was a man already at the desk speaking with the attendant. So we waited.
The attendant behind the desk waved us over. "How can I help you?" I say, "We're here to file for divorce." He looked up at the both of us, with a quizzical look on his face. DT piped up with, "Not from each other!" The lady behind us started laughing her head off.
He took a look at our forms and told us we would need to make copies, and gave us each a number. He pointed us in the direction of the copy room. It turns out that the government charges you FIFTY CENTS PER PAGE to use their shitty old photocopiers. If the stupid website had said anything about needing an extra copy, I would have just made it at work for FREE. Geez.
After spending $5 between the two of us, we went back into the crazy room and took a seat. It wasn't too long before my number came up and I made my way over to one of the messy cubicles.
The lady there looked like a pleasant woman. She said hello and asked me what I was there for. I said, "I'm filing for divorce." Now, I don't know what I was expecting her response to be, as I'm sure she deals with thousands of filings a year. But I was expecting something. I'm a young, nice looking girl. I would think a simple "Oh I'm sorry to hear that" would have sufficed. But she said nothing.
She took my papers and started typing, typing, typing. She had a fan turned on, it was set up just behind her monitor. My papers kept getting caught up in the breeze. Type, type, paper blowing, catch, type, type, paper blowing, catch, type, type. It was amusing at first. I wondered how long she would continue to just let the papers blow away. Then it got annoying. What should have taken her maybe 5 minutes had turned into 10 minutes because she had to stop every 10 seconds to keep my papers from flying away.
I wanted to scream "JUST ANGLE THE FUCKING FAN TWO MILLIMETERS TO THE LEFT" but instead, I looked around at the chaos behind the cubicles. One word sums it up - PAPER. Piles of paper everywhere. I'm sure to the untrained, non governmental eye it looks like a mess. But to those who have pledged their lives to making our legal system the fine bureaucratic machine it is, I was in fact looking at the most advanced filing system on the planet. Yeah right. After the lady finished playing blow and catch with my paperwork, she wrote a case number on it, signed it, stamped it, sealed it and asked me for payment. It cost me $167 (GST included!) for all that nonsense. She told me to go back to the information desk to be given instructions on what the next steps are.
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