The Past, Cats, and Stones

23 May

An Irishman recently said to me, “The past has a way of throwing stones at your back.” This is very true.

This past weekend The Ex reappeared. Again. This time he sent me a text saying, “Can we please work things out, I’m not the same guy anymore, I have nothing but love and respect for you, and I know I can show you that every day. These last three months have been hell for me, but I’ve survived and I’m better.” Ugh.

I decided not to respond to that text for several reasons:

  1. The first sentence drives me nuts. I mean, he starts out with a question, but decided to punctuate with a comma instead of a question mark. Ugh. Ok…maybe I’m being a little nitpicky. But he spent eight years with me! I teach language arts! He should know better.
  2. Last week he sent me three text messages in a drunken rage telling me to stay away from his friends (meaning Max). He then apologized for those text messages on Mother’s Day… as soon as he sobered up…two days later.
  3. Any response from me will prompt another text from him, and I do not wish to engage in any conversation about “us” with him. Not only does that sound unpleasant, but it will also give him false hope. Just because I broke up with the guy on Valentine’s Day does not mean that I am a heartless bitch.

I called him the next day…but I really, really, really wished I didn’t have to call him the next day. In order for you to understand my reasons for calling him on Sunday, I need to give you some background information.

Sebastian

About a year ago, The Ex and I adopted a cat. This cat is named Sebastian. Sebastian is an awesome kitty, and I got to keep him after The Ex and I broke up (victory!). Here’s my current dilemma: Sebastian is accustomed to having company all day long, but said company has since moved back in to his parents’ house. Subsequently, Sebastian now spends most of the day alone. He protests this new arrangement by pissing and shitting under my kitchen table. Damn cat.

Even though it is nasty, I can deal with the piss and the shit when it is under the kitchen table. It is easy to clean up so my apartment doesn’t smell, and summer break is very soon so I will be able to spend more time with Sebastian; but I cannot deal with piss and shit when it is on my bed. On Saturday night I biked to a bar with some friends and because you can still get a DWI on a bicycle, I spent the night on a couch. When I finally got home on Sunday morning I flopped onto my bed and into a lovely, pungent piss stain. Damn cat.

Given my newfound single girl lifestyle, I took extra pains to make sure my bedding did not smell like cat urine post laundering. That’s when I realized that my newfound lifestyle is not ideal for Sebastian. I’ve suspected this for a while, but I didn’t want to admit to it. I love my cat! I don’t want to get rid of him!

The Phone Call

I knew I have to give Sebastian away, so I called The Ex. If the roles were switched, I would be hurt and angry if The Ex gave Sebastian away without asking me if I wanted him first, but I really didn’t want to call The Ex because I knew that he would also want to talk about “us.” The conversation sounded something like this:

The Ex: Hello.

Me: Hi. I’m not calling to talk about your text yesterday. I want to talk to you about Sebastian.

The Ex: Okay…

Me: Basically, I am barely home anymore, and Sebastian has been pissing and shitting under the kitchen table.

The Ex:

Me: I’m also going to be gone a lot this summer, and I know he is upset because his routine has changed since you moved out, and I’m going to work extra-long hours next semester, so it isn’t fair for me to keep Sebastian when he is clearly unhappy.

The Ex:

Me: So, I want him to go to a good home, and I know you love him too, so can you take him?

The Ex: I don’t know. I’ll have to ask.

Me: Okay, thank you. Just let me know as soon as you find out.

The Ex: Okay, but can you please give me another chance?

Me: No.

The Ex: I’ve been working really hard on changing, and I’m much better now.

Me: Clearly, considering you sent me some nasty text messages marking your friends as your friends last week, and this week you’re begging me to take you back. That doesn’t show growth. So no, I will not give you another chance.

The Ex: But–

Me: No. I’ve moved on, so should you. I am not having this conversation with you. Let me know if you can take Sebastian or I will find another home for him. Bye.

I then hung up and cried for twenty minutes, but I didn’t cry about The Ex. I cried because I don’t want to get rid of my Sebastian, and because I was experiencing the emotional side effects of PMS. I felt much better after a good cry and continued with my day.

The Ex-Mother-in-Law (AKA xMiL)

The next day I got a text from his mother, my ex-mother-in-law(ish). Let’s just refer to her as xMiL for simplicity’s sake. Her text looked like this:

“My heart has been broken for my son and I will never understand how u could stop loving him like turning off a switch. Also turning your back to us as well. He was always faithful and there to support u and how sad that you’ve become someone we would not recognize as being the DAISY WE KNEW.”

Umm…seriously? It’s been three months. I expected this text, or a phone call, two months ago. At first I was going to respond. I was going to tell her that my heart was broken every night he drank himself into a rampage, every time he failed to follow through with his promises for a future, and on the day I discovered he had been lying to me about taking college classes for a month. His excuse for dropping the classes? He needed the money to buy me an engagement ring. He failed to see the flaw in his logic. I wanted to tell her that I didn’t stop loving him like turning off a switch, but that it was a very slow and painful process.

I also wanted to tell her that while I am no longer sixteen, I am still the stubborn, independent, driven Daisy they knew. I just outgrew their son.

In the end, I decided not to respond to the xMiL. There is nothing I can say to that woman to make her happy with me. And let’s be honest, does her opinion of me really matter? I haven’t spoken to them in three months, and there is no reason for me to speak to them in the future. I believe that right now she needs me to be the bad guy so that she can feel better about the situation. I can do that. I can be the bad guy. I suppose this is my final act of love for her and her family, although I know she will never see it that way.

Sometimes the past has a way of throwing stones at your back, but why do they have to hurt so much?

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Inspired By Nature

16 May

I’ve recently taken up walking as exercise, and I love it. It feels good to move around outside in the sun, but it also gives me a chance to sort through my thoughts. While walking today, I noticed two things that I usually take for granted (this is one many reasons why nature is awesome).

Mundane Thing #1: A Dandelion

Yes, this is a dandelion, and yes, there are millions of pictures of dandelions just like this one floating around on the internet. Obviously my picture is the best one of them all for two reasons:

  1. Immediately after taking this picture I sent it in a text to Viper saying, “I’m thinking about blowing on this dandelion, but I would really prefer to blow you instead.” Now, every time Viper looks at a dandelion, he will think about me…or at least for the next day or two.
  2. This dandelion, which was the only dandelion within a good twenty foot radius, kind of represents how my self-identity has changed in the past three months. Allow me to explain.

I am surprisingly okay with being alone, and I don’t mean relationship wise, I mean with my own company. Since The Breakup, I’ve finally been able to find out who I really am. The Ex and I started dating when I was sixteen. Sixteen! At the time, I thought I was so wise and ready for commitment, but I was a moron. I didn’t know shit, and I am still trying to figure it out. I just didn’t know I was still trying to figure it out…until The Breakup.

My relationship with The Ex changed me, and not for the better. Obviously I have some wild oats to sow, but a big reason for that is because I’ve been doing everything “right” for too long. When I was with The Ex, I was the perfect girlfriend. How boring is that? For eight years I stayed home when my friends went out. I hardly ever noticed other guys, and I always checked with him first before doing something fun for myself.

Now I believe that some of the best stories and memories we can have are the ones where we did something that we shouldn’t have, but did anyway because it was fun (with caution, of course).

Mundane Thing #2: A Bush of Funky Flowers

One could argue that this bush of funky flowers isn’t mundane because it is full of funk and stuff, but I’ve walked past it for years without giving it notice. Today, I snapped a few pictures. The first picture is of the whole bush. Like me, it is cluttered and busy. Throughout the day my mind and mood bounce around like the basketball in a game about to go into overtime. In the mornings I am content with my life, my job, and my relationship status. By lunch time I am bored and grouchy. By the last bell I am lusty and energized, and by dinner time I am reflective (hence this post), and usually slightly buzzed from one-to-many glasses of Pinot Grigio. It is exhausting.

Then, I tried zooming in on only one flower:

Which picture do you like better (pick the second one)? Yes! The second one is correct! This picture is visually appealing. It has finesse, it has focus. I need finesse and focus. Instead of worrying about why the cute doctor from Saturday night hasn’t called me yet, and instead of feeling frustrated because Viper hasn’t…ahem…borrowed a book in eleven days, I need to focus on discovering me.

How will I do that? By living my life, by sowing my wild oats, by misbehaving a little bit, by spending time in the sun every day, by spending more time with my camera and with my stove, and by blogging. I believe that blogging is the key. It keeps me sane, and it helps me fall asleep at night.

Cookies – Oven = Perfection

15 May

I believe that every single girl needs to have mastered the recipe for at least one tasty delight. Personally, I’ve mastered two recipes for sugary treats. Bow down to me and my domestic awesomeness because I am going to share one of those recipes with you now. The best part? This recipe is super easy. And delicious.

Here is the recipe (you can tell it is yummy because the paper is covered in dried vanilla extract, cocoa, and oatmeal).

And because I am the type of person who likes to copy and paste recipes into a separate word document for my recipe folder, I’ve typed it out for you here:

Daisy’s No Bake Fudge Cookies

2 cups sugar

1/4 cup cocoa

1/2 cup milk

2 cups quick oatmeal

1 stick butter (NOT margarine)

1/2 cup peanut butter

1 teaspoon vanilla

1/2 teaspoon salt

Directions: Combine sugar, cocoa, milk, and butter in large saucepan. After mixture reaches a rolling boil, cook for three minutes (set the timer because the recipe is a bit finicky). Remove from heat and add vanilla, salt, peanut butter, and oatmeal (I suggest measuring this out in advance because you don’t want the mixture to sit on the stove while you figure out the measurements. It will harden before you add the good stuff). Beat until thick and glossy as you would fudge. Place in buttered pan and let set. Cut into squares to serve (Clearly, I didn’t do this last part. Instead I just spoon the mixture onto parchment paper and let it sit for about 10 minutes).

*It is very important to use butter instead of margarine, or else your cookies will have the consistency of Gak. Bleh.*

Okay, so my title may be a bit misleading because you still use the stove to make these cookies, but in my defense it is easier to remember to turn off the stove than the oven. And yes, I have a tendency to forget to turn off my oven. Whoops.

A Snake in the Bookroom

13 May

Last week was a great week for my…ahem…garden. Monday Viper and I had a secret rendezvous in my bookroom. In retrospect, it probably wasn’t a great idea because we nearly got caught, but hey, you only live once, right?

By the way, isn’t there a new acronym for that? YOLO or something? That just makes me think of yogurt.

Forbidden Fruit

Allow me to take you back a few weeks before I tell you about our bookroom affair.

After our initial bit of bedroom fun, Viper came over again a week later to seal the deal. That’s right, it took a week. It felt like eternity. It would have happened sooner, but Mother Nature decided to intervene for a few days. What a bitch.

Anyway, Viper hasn’t been back to my apartment in over a month since he lives an hour away…and he has kids and a roommate. Damn. Oh, and the roommate is his baby mama. His words, not mine. Double Damn.

Yes, I’ve known about his roommate from the beginning, and no, I do not know if they are still involved or not. Quite frankly, I don’t really care for several reasons:

  1. I have needs, and he satisfies those needs.
  2. This ensures that my relationship with him will remain completely physical, which is just what I need right now.
  3. He is not allowed to get jealous when I do my single girl thing.
  4. His relationship with her is his business, not mine.
  5. He is a grown man and he can do what he wants with whomever he wants.

Secret Rendezvous

Since it is difficult for Viper to get to my apartment, we’ve had to make do with the resources available to us such as his classroom and my bookroom. Usually we’ll just have a hot and heavy make out session in one of those two locations after school, but sometimes we get a little carried away. I mean, the first time Viper and I took advantage of the bookroom, he literally ripped my panties off. Aye!

The bookroom is a windowless room off of my classroom. The only way in is through my classroom, and the door to the bookroom automatically locks from the outside but not the inside. The only surveillance cameras at our school are outdoors. This is why we use the bookroom. It is a fortress.

On Monday, we were in the bookroom doing our thing (quietly, I might add), when suddenly we heard a noise coming from my classroom. Viper froze and we both listened. A moment later, there was another noise. It was the custodian coming to clean my room.

We quickly redressed and I grabbed a stack of random books off of the shelves. I flipped the light off just before opening the door while Viper hid in the back corner of the bookroom. The custodian glanced up as I walked into the classroom, and I cheerfully said hello. I took great care in setting down my large pile of random books and organized them on my table in a very precise manner. I then pretended to notice a poster that had fallen off of my wall earlier that day.

I smiled at the custodian and asked her if she had any duct tape. She doesn’t speak much English, so I pointed to the strips of duct tape keeping other posters and samples of student work mounted on the wall. The custodian smiled and said, “Un momento” and disappeared from the room. I quietly tapped the door to the bookroom, and Viper flew out of my classroom. Thirty seconds later the custodian returned with duct tape, and I calmly taped the poster back to the wall. After a few more trips into the bookroom to grab additional books for my pointless collection, I left.

Viper and I finished what we started on Wednesday. And it was good.

Return of The Ex

12 May

I love being outdoors. Whether I am walking, riding my bike, or just basking in the sun, there is something comforting about being surrounded by blue skies and a perpetual breeze. I haven’t spent as much time outdoors as I would have liked the past couple of weeks, so I desperately needed to ride my bike this morning.

At 7:30 I rode my bike to the Starbucks about a mile and a half away from my house, which may not sound like a big deal but since I’ve only owned Hercules (my bike) for a week, and the mile to Starbucks is mostly uphill, I was sucking eggs by the time I pulled into the parking lot. It felt great. It also felt great to not be hung over. The best part about my Starbucks ride? The trip home is all downhill. I LOVE gravity!

But the purpose of this post is not to tell you about my early morning bike ride. Instead, I want to give an update on The Ex. Mostly, I want to vent.

Since I bought my bike, I’ve been trying to find other people to ride with. Remembering how much fun I had on bike rides with my dad when I was a little girl, I thought it would be fun to invite Max and his two daughters to explore a trail by the river this weekend. We decided that a Mother’s Day bike ride would be fun, especially since CDog is going to a concert that evening instead of spending the day with her girls.

The Story

I called Max after work yesterday to plan our outing, but he didn’t answer. We played phone tag for a while, and when I tried calling him before going to bed last night he still didn’t answer. I should have known that it wasn’t a good time. Max is in The Ex’s band, and they have band practice on Friday nights. Well, the Ex saw my incoming call on Max’s phone. Oops.

I fell asleep without realizing what had happened, so when my phone rang again I was expecting it to be Max, but it was The Ex. Damn. I ignored the call and went back to sleep. I woke up this morning to these text messages from The Ex (verbatim):

“Don’t call max”

“If you’re done with me you have no business talking to MY FRIENDS!!! I don’t care if you want to see the girls, I think I’ve been really cool about this bull shit breakup but don’t talk to my best friend.”

“I don’t talk to your friends, so please give me the same respect and not talk to max”

I didn’t respond to those either, but I did text Max this morning. I felt I should apologize for getting him into trouble with his new girlfriend last night. Ha!

Making Out is Underrated

9 May

One would think that after several months of serious flirting, I wouldn’t have been surprised when Viper kissed me for the first time. I mean he had been bringing me sugary treats for a month, we had two super-secret-early-morning breakfast dates before school, and he had already been to my apartment once (but that was completely G rated. We sat on my couch and talked for an hour. Whoop-de-doo). So when he finally kissed me, the first thought that ran through my head was, “Holy crap, what the hell is going on?!?!” But don’t worry, I didn’t embarrass myself. I hope.

Quick question: have you read my post, Luck of the Irish? Well, this post is about the hours leading up to my horrible first date. In retrospect, I probably would have been more traumatized with that experience had I not seen Viper first, but luckily I managed to squeeze in time for Viper between The Ex’s brother picking up the TV and my date with Mark. The Brother left, and about three minutes later Viper arrived. I swear the God of the Newly-Single was smiling down on me at that moment.

Making Out is WAY Underrated

Since I had bought a new TV to replace the old one, Viper helped me set it up in my living room. I hugged him as a thank-you, but instead of letting go immediately after the hug, he kept his hands around my waist. We smiled at each other for a minute before he made his move. He wasn’t tentative about it either. He just went in for the kill, which is probably part of the reason I was so surprised. I didn’t see it coming. It was also the first time I had kissed someone post-breakup while completely sober.

Somehow we ended up against a wall, and he held my arms above my head with one hand and ran his other hand up and down my torso while he kissed me. Guys, if you are reading this, you need to do this. There is just something about having a wall pressing into your back and a man pressing into your front…damn. I had never been kissed like that before.

We continued in that fashion for some time. I believe we also utilized my couch which is really a love seat, and I do recall quite a bit of time spent pushed up against my front door, which is where Viper’s lips discovered my bellybutton ring. He continued to explore my anatomy with his mouth, but considering it was the end of the day and I had not planned on a hot and heavy make out session, I kept my shorts on.

All good things must come to an end, and I did have a date to get ready for. In all honesty I would have cancelled it, but Viper had to leave too. He lives in a small town about an hour away and he still had some shopping to do, which is why he was in the area in the first place.

Round Two

I guess his shopping list was a short one, because he sent me a text about twenty minutes later asking what I was wearing. I replied that I was wearing only water and a smile, since I had just gotten out of the shower. He asked me if I would answer the door like that. I didn’t reply. He came over anyway.

I answered the door fully dressed and made-up, but my hair was still wet. Did you know that bed sheets do a GREAT job of drying wet hair? And since I just got out of the shower, Viper’s lips got to explore much more than just my belly button ring.

Oh, and I was fifteen minutes late for my date. Totally worth it.

I Need New Lingerie (but not from Kmart)

6 May

I met Gary through some mutual friends a couple of months ago, about a week or two after I broke up with The Ex. I wasn’t really interested in meeting anybody yet, so I didn’t see Gary that way. I did notice, however, that he is very attractive for a blonde guy. Clothes hang well on him, and he is HILARIOUS. That night he had me laughing harder than I had laughed in months.

I didn’t think about him again until about a week and a half ago. One of our mutual friends, Kelsey, was hanging out at my apartment for a night of wine and pedicures. Gary called her, and she invited him to join us. He declined, which isn’t too surprising considering we were drinking wine and playing with nail polish.

I guess she gave him my number because I got a text from him the next day apologizing for not coming to wine night. We started texting back and forth for two days before I invited him to come over and bond over our mutual hatred of Kelsey’s boyfriend, Ted.

Whose Lingerie Is This, Anyway?

He came over on a Friday night. It began with what had been promised: Ted bashing. Gary then spotted my acoustic guitar in my bedroom, and he sat on my bed to play a song. Let me tell you, this guy has a great country voice. Like, panty dropping great. He made up a song on the spot, and I wish I could remember the lyrics, because they were ridiculous.

We were both a bit punchy at this point, and one of us jokingly mentioned a text message he had sent me earlier that night. The text conversation looked like this:

I confessed that I didn’t own much in the way of lingerie, but Gary didn’t believe me. I decided to show him my last lingerie purchase from several years earlier: a Mrs. Clause baby doll, complete with white fur trim and white furry pom poms. Gary found this hilarious, and dared me to model it for him. I jokingly replied that I would model it for him only after he modeled it for me. He inspected the craftsmanship of my Kmart lingerie, and decided that with the elastic back and mesh material it would be forgiving enough to fit his larger frame. He kicked me out of my bedroom for his transformation.

Gary didn’t model this over his boxers like I expected. He stripped down to just skin before putting it on. I will never forget how he looked wearing my Santa lingerie while covering his manhood with both hands. I laughed so hard, my abs were screaming and tears were running down my face. Gary changed back into his clothes and then threw me onto the bed. He pointed at me and said, “stay there” in a very serious voice before disappearing into the bathroom. When he came back out he snuggled up next to me and we just stayed there, joking around.

Naughty Fun

Somehow, the topic of boobs came up, and I mentioned my discontent with my 32B cup size. Before I knew it Gary’s tongue was on my nipple, and I remember saying that I’ve never let a guy play with my boobs before kissing me first.

He smiled and said that if he kissed me I would want to sleep with him, so he wasn’t going to do that to me since he wasn’t planning on getting laid tonight. Then he moved on to my other nipple. I said something about not wanting to sleep with him after seeing him in my lingerie, and we both started laughing again.

Break Check!

But he was right. I did want to sleep with him. We did everything but have sex that night. We had a lot of fun with my bag of sex toys, and I blew his mind with my oral skills (his weren’t bad either). When I was ready for the grand finale however, he refused to participate. He said he wouldn’t sleep with me that night, and I still don’t understand why. He had hinted to some naughty fun in his text messages, and while we did have fun and it was quite naughty I expected sex that night, dammit! It is half the reason I invited him over in the first place. Ugh, what a tease!

Regardless, I had a ton of fun with Gary. I haven’t heard too much from him since, which is fine. He is a good time, but I don’t want anything but a good time with him for a couple of reasons:

  1. I learned that he hooked up with one of my best friends six months ago
  2. He has a girlfriend, but he insisted that they were on a break the night we fooled around. Whatever, that is his problem, not mine.