THE MOVE

was worse than I thought it would be. I came home very tentatively on Thursday evening (the first day of the move). Thankfully, Pic, my childhood friend met me and stayed the night. She held my hand as we walked around the home. Every thing was all packed up neatly in one room. We walked through each of the rooms, and then I lost it. I opened every sealed box, looking through his things, making sure he didn't take anything that was truly mine. I did not feel elated. In fact, I feel worse than before he took the stuff. At the end of it all, I was left with my minimal stuff and a TIVO, which was a gift from MY BEST BUD and the ex's cousin.

I have nothing to show for our lives together. ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. He managed to leave some of this belongings on the shelves and I started throwing them on the ground, screaming, "I HATE YOU!" at no one except Pic. Of course, I do not hate her. I wanted the bastard to hear my anger and rage. Pic looked at me. "Be what you need to be. It's ok. I'm here."

My correspondence to MY BEST BUD to get to this, THE MOVE.

Why don't you tell me which days would be the most inconvenient for [insert ex's name] and those are the days I would choose for him to get his crap out! Given my schedule and friends/family coming and going, I feel the best days would be Thursday and Friday, August 9/10 between the hours of 9 AM - 5 PM. No weekends are available.

He is to clean his bathroom -- it's disgusting, and generally leave the place in a good state given that most of the crap is his. The neighbors will be watching. My mom will generally be in the area but not at the house. But if I think he'll behave poorly, she will be present. And he and whoever is moving him should not show up before 9. Movers are fine but I have to be told which friends, if any, will be in my home, and I have to approve. In fact, I would say that no one is allowed in the home except for him and the movers.

He is to have no contact with me. No phone calls, no emails, nothing. He's dead to me. He's a fucking asshole and I hate him. There aren't enough bad words in the English language to describe him or his behavior towards me. I should have kicked him in the balls when I had a chance.

It will be a cold day in hell if this move inconveniences me. I've been inconvenienced enough. The the whole speel about his sleeping of your floor and at his parents, please spare me. He left. These are the consequences for his behavior.

Friday was pretty awful. A friend took me out to dinner and then I came home to my place, all alone. One of my best friend's from college called. Today was almost as hard as when he left. It will get better, she said. I sure hope so because I can't continue on like this.

I've been in bed all week. I am talking to a lawyer about what I can and cannot reveal about the revenge.

SWEET REVENGE

Let's say when I'm pissed off, I piss off!

DESPERATE TIMES

call for desperate meat. I succumbed to McDonald's last night; I'm vegetarian. I figured eating meat is better than eating nothing. Having not slept a wink in weeks and not eating for the same amount of time, it was worth it. Let me tell you, meat never tasted so darn good.

The ex moving his stuff out happens later this week, and I'm not looking forward to it at all, which is probably what led me to the golden arches. MY BEST BUD is mediating communication about the move, etc. The bastard wanted a weekend move, and I said forget it. He gets two days during the week when I will naturally be at work bawling my eyes out. Why should I be away on the weekend just so he can move his freaking stuff out. So I'm making him take two vacation days to get his freaking crap out my life.

This past month has been really hard. I haven't been able to move on because I'm surrounded by his giant tv, his ugly couch, his junk, his everything. I hate his stuff; I hate him.

Q&A

is in order. First, a shout out to all the "moms." You are a tenacious chatty group. I mean some of you are up late at night thinking about my situation. And one of you even left a phone number! Perhaps you should remove the phone number. I don't want you to get crank calls a la the CRANK CALLS blog entry. Though if it happened, wouldn't that be kind of funny considering?

I tip my hats to the men who have recently commented. I didn't think this blog would speak to men, and who knows if it will in the future. In any case, your perspective and comments are welcome, invited in fact. I'm not a man hater at all but I do really despise the man who left me. Jean-Luc Picard -- any chance you could beam him back so that I can give him the kick in the balls he so deserves?

Some of the faithful following have questions about the blindsighted one. I would too. In any case, one of the "moms" posed questions in the comments section of some of entries so I thought I would answer them. Perhaps others have questions too. When I get a critical mass, I will address more questions. I don't want the faithful following to think I am giving preferential treatment. After all I'm an equal opportunity blogger. Feel free to ask away. Whatever your heart desires. If I don't want to answer, I won't.

In any case, I am permanently 29 years old and I grew up in a small town (about 30,000 folks) some where in the United States. I no longer live in this small town. My ex and I rented a very cute home. We split utilities and rent in half, so no, I cannot afford the home on my own. Half the utilities are in my name and half are in his. Most all of the belongings are his. I happily gave up mine because his things were nicer for the most part. Too bad he wasn't as nice as some of the furniture. I'm in the process of searching for a roommate because as one friend stated eloquently, the memories will go with you wherever you move so why create more stress than you already have. It's been a hellish process to say the least.

Ok now, every one get some sleep!

DREAM ON

is the theme song of the day. Have you ever had dream that felt so real that you woke up believing that it had actually happened?

It was a cold rainy morning. The wind was pounding against the single pane windows such that when I placed my right hand against the window I could feel the vibrations pass through my hand into my body. I shivered, they were cold and reminded me of the days when I first started playing the violin. With the instrument tucked carefully under my chin, pressing against my neck, I would gently glide my beautiful horse hair bow against the strings only to have the most awful hair raising sound that resonated in my heart, at which point the apple of my eye, my adorable black lab pound puppy mutt would howl, craning his neck towards the moon like a coyote, making his utter dissatisfaction known much to my mother's amusement. In those days, I would intentionally hit the high notes, just to see him howl. The corners of my lips pucker upward at the memory until the buzzing of my cell phone breaks my concentration.

I picked up the phone off the coffee table. A text message. Hmm. I opened the message to see that the ex was lonely and sorry for leaving him. Would I take him back?

I woke up smiling, snuggling under my comforter, only to realize 5 minutes later that it was all a dream, the past was gone. I cried into my pillow. The dream was gone.