THE PROCESS

so darn frustrating. I've never had to answer so many questions about myself – I mean I just wanted to view profiles, gawk and see what’s out there. Really, I just wanted to make fun of the men and their profiles. Boy are there plenty of laughs out there – I really wish I could give you the links to some of the ads but in an effort to be nice and fair, I won’t out anyone but you know what I mean. In any case, I decided that while I want to put in some effort, I would just kind of hang back a little and see if the men would come to me. I think I’m a catch so why not. Once I’m into you, I’ll put in the effort but you know, at this time it’s important that I am sought out.

So a day or two later, a really cute young (younger than me that is) man “initiates” communication with me. In case you’re not familiar with this service, “initiate communication” really means that this person of interest (POI) a set of 5 multiple choice questions that have 4 answers plus a free response (200 character limit). After reviewing his profile, I decide to respond. Why not? He’s cute, he’s young, and we have similar interests.

We respond to each other's 5 multiple choice questions. Then I send him my “Must Haves/Can’t Stands”, 10 in each category. These are selected from a myriad of choices and they vary from ….Mine for example were, "I must have a partner who is loyal", etc. I send mine off. A few hours later I get his. I’m reading along, making a mental check list, things are looking good…check…check…check…... WHAT? You’ve got to be kidding me. I read and then re-read, “I must have a partner who is saving himself/herself for marriage.” Wow! That was a stunner in this day and age. So I had to “close” this match because if that’s what he’s looking for, he’s not going to get that from me. Man….I think I need to stop checking my account for a few days.

I received a few e-mails about not posting often enough. Sorry. Just so exhausted. I'm back.

DATING

is completely confusing. How does one date? Really? I found my last partner on as site that will go unnamed. Not going there again especially since I was propositioned for sex one too many times. Not that sex is a bad thing but when you’re in you’re very young, being propositioned by a prematurely balding pasty white man in his 50s (who claims to look like he’s in his 40s – he didn’t) that has pictures of himself with jeans and no shirt (and thinks he’s hot stuff) is not really how this woman wants to get propositioned on a daily basis. Tay Diggs or Milo Ventimiglia propositioning me, now that I would consider.

There’s speed dating. Ugh. I think it’s more like, let’s see how drunk we can get in the shortest amount of time possible. There are bars – not doing that. I mean how hard is it find a nice, intelligent, decent person to date. HARD.

So after speaking with a lot of friends and hemming and hawing about how to get back out there, and watching one too many commercials I decided to check out the service with the “29 Dimensions Scale.” As my friends pointed out, I probably won't ever feel ready to date so I might as well get out there. Nothing serious, just fun, see what's out there and what the world has to offer. I mean how could I screw up if I answered the questions honestly and they do the selecting? Do they take into consideration that most people probably don’t answer their questions honestly? What about that? I just hope they don’t select mates like my parents would based on things of no consequence like family background, earning power, car, etc. So I searched online and got a coupon code that gave me a 3 month membership for the price of one month! So I did it. Let the matching begin…..

The weird thing about e-harmony is that at the end they had asked about mental state in the last month with questions like “How often have you been sad?” My choices were something like, “Never,” “Once in a while,” “Half the time, “Most of the Time,” “All the Time.” I had to answer honestly so, for me, a lot of the responses were “Most of the Time.” One’s emotional health is constantly changing so I have to say I’m curious as to who they’re going to match me with given that. I was sad having to say how sad I’ve been.

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.

UNSATISFIED

with the ex's cousin's e-mail. She sent me an e-mail 3 days after the freaking bastard left. Read below.

hi [insert my name],

just wanted to say hello. i'm very sad about how things have worked out, and want you to know that i really value our friendship. you've been in my thoughts every day; i keep thinking about how you must be feeling.

[insert 3 more blobbity blah short sentences about talking, lunch, or whatever i want]

best always,
[insert ex's cousin's name]

Please spare me. This e-mail pretty much left me hot, then cold, and numb. She's sad? Who cares? She doesn't know the depth of sadness. She makes me so mad (picture steam coming out of my ears). How is it that after knowing her for all these years, she can sign off with a "best always?" Her cousin left, and this is what she has to say. I'm overwhelmed by her lack of emotion. It would have been better if she had never e-mailed.

I exploded. I called a friend who could tolerate my yelling.

Me: How can a person just leave, [insert friend's name]? He left me. How could he do that? That last image I have of him is of his leaving. How do I ever forget that? How do I trust someone again?

Friend: I know it hurts, but just remember the words of all of us who love you. We have all been through this kind of turmoil, and we have all made it through. And so will you. Hold on to that.

Me: You love me? my voice cracking like a pimply teenage boy going through puberty, except that I don't have pimples, so I'm not sure why I use that adjective at this particularly moment. Perhaps I feel that I should have a pimple. Should I?

Friend: I always have; I always will.

I collapsed on the only piece of furniture I own among the sea of awful belongings that still crowd our small home, my comfy couch, and slept for the next 2 hours. I woke up to find myself in the nightmare I thought I left behind in my dreams.

DON'T DATE HIM GIRL

Remember my best bud, Dan? Well, he and a co-worker told me about a website called dontdatehimgirl.com. It's hilarious when you're not sleep deprived and completely depressed, I'm sure. You can search people by name which I will have to do in the future before I start dating seriously again.

I was SO tempted to write up the ex and post a picture until Dan told me that the website and some of the women had been sued by the men that were posted on the website. I don't see what the men were all up in arms over. After all, they screwed their significant others. If anything, they should have been sued! I mean, the ex is smart, but is he that smart? He's the most self-absorbed man out there and he couldn't possibly think that little ol' me could possible write up a fat ass like him. After all, he left me, and I'm a catch.

Still tempted to write him up. We'll see....

MOMS

have an uncanny knack of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. My mom's been in town for the past few days to support me which has been great. Her philosophy is a newly single girl needs a "new wardrobe, a new home, and a new man." I wasn't sure about the new man or a new home, but I was mildly in interested in cute clothes. In addition to the loads of food she brought (including rather tasty meats; she seems to have forgotten my mostly vegetarian lifestyle), she brought me cute clothes.

Usually after a few days my mom and I start getting on each other's nerves. It's not that we don't love each other but after spending an extended amount of time together in close quarters we do start to snap at each other over inconsequential things. Last evening I was just thinking how we were getting along so well. We hadn't had one fight and were having a "good" time despite the circumstances, becoming closer. In fact, I invited her to attend a counseling session with me. To my complete surprise (and sheer happiness), she actually attended and opened up. She comes from a culture that values privacy and secrecy so I was shocked. Perhaps it was these series of successes that led to the argument last night.

As I was getting ready for bed, the following conversation ensued:

Mom: "You know, it would have been better if you had been married. (She did not approve of our living together outside of marriage."
Me: "What?"
Mom: "Well, if you had been married, you would have something to show for the past few years."
Me: "What?" I said again, raising my voice. I could feel myself getting hot, heart pumping.
Mom: "You would get some of his money, change the locks."
Me: "What are you talking about?" I screamed. "You think money could possibly compensate me for the pain, anger, sadness. You have no idea what you're talking about."

I lost it. I went to a dark dark place that I had never experienced, ever. I started throwing things. I didn't do anything drastic, throwing plastic vitamin bottles on the floor, the pressure making the caps pop up, vitamins clattering across the hard wood floors, like marbles. With one arm, I swept books off their shelf. I grabbed the bag of oranges, repeatedly smashing them against the floor until the oranges split open, spilling their juices (in the bag thankfully).

None of my tirade made me feel better. At the end, I was droopy eyed, exhausted, and sobbing hysterically. My mom stood their speechless, and she always has something to say. She reached and squeezed the living day lights out of me.

Orange juice anyone?

Crank Calls

I made crank calls earlier this week. It's childish, yes! Have I reverted to the 4th grade? Yes! I'm not ashamed. I finally had the type of sleep, albeit for 3 hours, that I has belied me for the past few weeks. I received our cell phone bill, and decided to review his phone calls before and after he left. Who do these numbers belong to? Another woman? Earlier in the day, before he left, he called his cousin. Did she know before me?

These days since, we are no longer forced to remember calls, I have no idea whose number belongs to who. I'm talking to one my best friends and what does he suggest, the adult version of the crank call! Unfortunately, hearing the words, "Hello/Hi/Hey," will not be enough to figure out who the person is.

The plan: 3 way calling. Friend calls me. Friend calls number. Me -- silence. If someone picks up, he says, "I saw on my caller id that I just got a call from [states individual's number] but makes one of the numbers off by one. This would hopefully allow for enough conversation for me to know who everyone is.

I select the top 5 numbers called/received.
1. Ex's mom
2. Dan (from My Best Bud post)
3. Ex's other best friend
4. Ex's sister
5. Ex's other best friend's wife

There were fleeting moments of feeling a natural high from calling these people and there were laughs to be had. Certainly, it was the first time I laughed at myself or anything in a while. But after it was all said and done, I woke up crying 3 hours after falling asleep.

What Have I Done to Deserve This?

Is the song I purchased off Itunes today. It's my theme song. My work day was hell. After about 2 weeks of sleep deprivation and lack of appetite, I have no bandwidth for the petty things that come with my job such as whether the pale yellow color paint would enhance or detract from our client's Monet hanging in her super chic loft that I could never afford even if I gave up things like furniture, travel, and food!

Me: " Who gives a damn?" I said?
Colleagues: Raised eyebrows. "Are you OK, doll?"

As an aside, 'doll' gets overused by people in the business. It's thrown around like rice at weddings -- too much. I call my friends doll-face but only because I love them and it's a term of endearment.

Me: "What kind of question is that?
Colleagues: "Well you just screamed at the top of your lungs, and the client is downstairs."
Me: "Really?" I didn't even realize that I had shouted much less screamed. Whatever. I've had enough clients scream at me while I silently took it all in. This is pay back. "I don't care who hears me. I can't believe we're discussing which color is better for the wall when there are more important things going on. I'm stepping out for a cig."
Colleagues: "A what?" they said dumbfounded. "You don't smoke."

It's true, I don't. In fact, I abhor it. I won't date guys who smoke; hate going to bars where smoking is allowed. I won't have anything to do with it. But these days I'll do anything to feel less stress and anxiety, even if it's for a mere 5 minutes. It's better than nothing. My college friend got me onto it due to my troubles. I smoke may be 2 a day. Some times 3. It depends.

I put on my brown tinted sunglasses, the ones that I left at a bar once and cried when I couldn't find them because I rocked the look, only to have the ex buy them for me again. I know it's ridiculous to love something so simple so much but I do so slipped them on, and slipped on out. While failing to make o-rings with my new found habit, I thought about the phone call that set me off. The in-laws. Now I really did dodge a bullet there. They used to provide me with a free technical service and they had called to tell me that I would always be welcome to obtain this service for free. And that's all they had to say. Nothing about we're sorry about what happened. We'll miss you. None of the normal things that kind people say and do for others when they are in so much freaking pain. Their son walked out on me and they're talking about free services!

I came home to this message at 9 PM. After years of dating and living with the son that they dare call their child, that's all they had to say? "Please feel free to see us next year." "You have go to be kidding me," I cried. I pulled the phone out of the socket and threw it away.

When there was nothing left to pull out or throw around I logged into my Itunes account and bought my theme song for the month of July!

My Best Bud

Came to see me not longer after my ex left. Dan is actually my ex's best friend. He was wearing a nice shirt which I promptly cried and snotted on for the next 3 hours until he left. I was crying hysterically when he came and crying more hysterically when he left. My shoulders were shaking, my face, eyes, and nose so red, I could be Rudolph. In any case, Dan and I always had this unspoken connection. It was never sexual but when we glanced at each other, we just got each other. We could never pursue our budding friendship because my ex would have never tolerated it even though Dan was always in a relationship.

In any case, Dan and I spent the next 3 hours leaning on his shoulder, crying, and having my hair stroked and kissed by a cute cuddly man. In retrospect, if I had had the presence of mind, and thankfully I didn't, I might have taken advantage of this situation. Isn't the best revenge to get together with the ex's best friend? Of course, that would have been awful because Dan was dating the ex's cousin, who's practically like a sister to him.

I tried to describe what happened between the sobs that choked out of my body but no words could come out except to describe the facts, my ex's behavior, the crazy message that was left on my voicemail by the parents (I could have b*itch slapped them so hard, let me tell you) and how ironic it was that the end of one relationship meant the forging of another (ours). It was a little creepy because while he was attempting to console me he revealed to me the naughty things he does when he goes out of town with his closest friends and that his uptight, control freak (my words, not his in so many) of a fiance would completely disapprove of so I dare not say anything. He also revealed that it was the most difficult relationship he'd ever been in but he does it because "he loves her." Whatever. This is how our bonding began.

Funny thing, I always though Dan and his fiance had the perfect relationship. They don't. His revealing his indiscretions made me develop this mad little crush on him. Who wouldn't have a crush on the man who pays you the first kindness since your ex left. My friends think I should pursue him but I'm not a home wrecker but then all is fair in love and war, as one friend said. The relationship is not a done deal until the I dos have been shared, and even then, that's questionable these days.

YOU’RE A B*TCH; I’M GLAD I LEFT

Those are the loving words that came out of his potty mouth Tuesday morning when I explained to him that he could no longer come and go out of my place. To take a step back, while I was holed up in AM meetings, I received the most non-chalant, as if nothing happened, casual voicemail from the man who is beneath pond scum saying he was going to stop by to pick up a few of his things and was that ok? HELL NO, it’s not ok. In what world is it ok to come back and pick up some of you belongings when you left? In any case, I was sharing this idea with him when he screamed the title of this entry at me while I was at work with my boss in the office next to mine. Not pleasant. By the time I reached him he had already come and gone. I was furious especially since the day before I found his journal entries in his drawer and left them there to make copies later. As soon as he told me he had come and gone, I knew that those entries would be gone and sure enough when I got home, they were. DAMN! I was too nice; I should have taken those damn things when I had the chance.

He has the audacity to call me a b*tch. He’s the one that left.

BLINDSIGHTED

Girl, let me tell you my story. I’m exhausted and haven’t slept or eaten in over 24 hours. I went to work and don’t even know how it is that I managed to write competent e-mails to my clients, since I was bawling the whole time and couldn’t see through the curtain of tears. Yesterday, the man that I had lived with and supported for years walked out on me. He freaking walked out on me. Something was up because he was acting funny for most of the day and he left for a few hours to “think.” He didn’t say about what and it was not unusual because he’s big on thinking but apparently not big on communicating. He comes home, tells me he no longer loves me, and starts packing a suit case. I look at him in stunned silence, not knowing what to say. I don’t think I even understood what he said. I had what I imagine was the “blank” look until he pulled out the suit case and started flinging his belongings into it. I stood in the middle of our living room as he walked from room to room gathering who knows what. I was sobbing uncontrollably, shoulders shaking as violently as the leaves of a eucalyptus tree coming off in the middle of train storm, reeling in pain wrapped in my most comfortable blanket. I should even say I was crying because I’m crying as a I write this entry, I hear a clattering, kind of like the sound of plates being stacked on each other and I realize my mouth is quivering and that my teeth are chattering, like they do when you’re cold, you know?

I started following him around. Sobbing hysterically, I said, “I don’t understand. What’s wrong? “What did I do? What I am supposed to do?” I stood there begging him to stay, asking him not to leave to me. I asked him to explain what was wrong, what couldn’t be fixed, what couldn’t I change or solve. I regret saying those things but what else was I supposed to do? Isn’t it amazing the things we do in the name of love. Well, maybe it’s not amazing, it’s just freaking ridiculous. No it’s ludicrous. Did I mention that he slept with me the night before? I even said, “You slept with me!” “I didn’t know yesterday” was his lousy ass answer.
Between the thoughts of why is he leaving, what am I supposed to do, I was thinking how can I face my family, my friends, my co-workers, everyone. How am I supposed to tell anyone what happened?

I don’t know how I did it but I went to work today after a sleepless horrible night in the bed we used to share. And now, here I am, blogging about this in the home we formerly shared with all of his crap still throwing itself in my face. My second regret was not kicking him in the balls when I had the chance to.

It’s only Monday, how am I supposed to make it through the rest of the day much less the week?