Shine Bright Like a Diamond (or in this case, a Sapphire)

With apologies to Rihanna.

Since I last posted here, I had a birthday. And, oddly enough, I share the day with Mr. J’s father.

Since we were going to visit his family on my actual birthday, Mr. J surprised me one day last week. He bought me gourmet cupcakes, a beautiful card that brought me to tears, and an amazing gift: a set of sapphire earrings.

I was floored. Yes, he knows I like sapphires, and these are almost a half carat sized each. Studs, set in white gold, which I prefer over yellow.

I was baffled. Mr. J is very careful with money. These babies cost more than an iPad.

What does that mean?

Mr. J does not spend money easily. He’s not into high-ticket items. One of the reasons he doesn’t really like travel is he doesn’t like spending the money on it.

He is the first man to buy me expensive jewelry. For marriage 2 and 3 I paid for my own rings. (I am well aware of how pathetic that is.) Ring 2 is gone – sold at a yard sale as it was just a simple band with three tiny stones. Nothing to take to the jeweler.  Ring 3 I still have in a box – not quite sure what to do with it yet. I’ve toyed with the idea of making a new ring or necklace from it – and the wedding band – but I haven’t really given it much thought.

But no man has ever bought me fine jewelry before. Even my first engagement ring, bought by my now ex-husband in 1992, came from a mass department store and retailed then for $399. Solitaire. Square, yellow gold band. No bells, no whistles. But we were young, just starting out.

Back to the birthday….

So on my actual birthday, we spent it with Mr. J’s family. His two brothers, their families, and their dad spent the day eating burgers, drinking beer, and visiting.

I chatted a little with Mr. J’s dad. And he told me a few eye-opening things.

We had both had a few cocktails, so I’m not sure exactly how we got to talking about it. But I mentioned how I feel when The Daughter talks to Mr. J. I told Dad how it breaks my heart to hear her speak so badly to him, even though he just lets it roll off. I said that Mr. J has the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever known (and this is where I got teary eyed.) I said that The Daughter talks to Mr. J just like her Mother does, because it’s been a learned condition.

Then Dad told me the bombshell: that way back, 20 years ago on their wedding day, Dad heard the way she spoke to Mr. J; how in fact her whole family spoke to him. And Dad told me that right then he ‘had a feeling it wouldn’t last’.


Mind = blown.

Then he went on to tell me that he knew the only reason Mr. J married her was because he was lonely. His two brothers were married (or planning to be soon), and one was already starting a family. He was lonely.

Been there, done that, so I know how he felt.

Then Dad went on to say how he doesn’t see that with us. He sees us as ‘real’. He says he can tell the way we look at each other; even when we are working together in the kitchen to put a meal together, he can see how we care and respect each other.

Again, I got misty-eyed.

So after we had finished dinner, and blown out the candles on the cake, we were driving home the following afternoon. I had mentioned to Mr. J that I had a nice chat with his dad. While in the van, he asked what we talked about.

“Just stuff,” I said.

“Well, just so you know, my dad’s advice isn’t always the best”, he laughed. “He’s got about 50% good advice and 50% bad.”

“No worries,” I said, “he wasn’t giving advice”.

“So what did you talk about?”

“Well,” I began,  “your dad just gave his opinion on stuff. And seeing how it’s just his opinion, it’s wrong of me to talk about it. It’s just his view, his thoughts. That’s all.”

Yeah – like I am going to tell him that his father thought it was a mistake for him to get married all those years ago.

No way, no how. Not my place.

Perhaps they already talked about this, perhaps Dad had told  Mr. J during one of their many talks over the past two years. Regardless, it’s not my place to share this information, so I didn’t.

I’m just thankful that he trusted me with it in the first place.




Out of the Darkness

Saturday was a bad day for me.

Things are still going strong with Mr. J2.


But Saturday was rough.

At the time I wasn’t sure why; we had just spent a wonderful week together doing all our favourite things – eating, cooking, talking and being together.

Oh, and let’s not forget the amazing sex.

But Saturday morning, as soon as I walked into my condo, I could feel it.

The darkness descended.

I looked around and saw the tea stains on the kitchen floor that hadn’t been cleaned up by The Roommate; I saw the crumbs all over the counter that hadn’t been wiped; I saw the dribble of who-knows-what down along the side of the fridge.

That’s where it began.

To go from such a wonderful happy place to my reality was too much for me to handle that morning.

Not that I am complaining.

I am merely trying to figure out how and why I went from such a happy high to a deep low.

I did my laundry. I cleaned my room. I took out my garbage.

And still the darkness descended.

Talking to Mr. J2 by text didn’t help.

Neither did reading old emails from my father – who passed away in 2009.

Mr. J2 invited me over for dinner and to watch The Boy play hockey since The Ex wouldn’t be at the game. He missed me and I really missed him too, but I declined because I really wasn’t in the right mindset.

I also thought he needed to spend some time with his kids by himself. He misses them so much.

I took a nap in the afternoon and by the evening I had figured out when my brain took that left turn in Albuquerque.

You see… I got ahead of myself.

The Daughter had a band competition that morning. Mr. J2 rushed to get himself ready and pick up The Boy to make it there on time.

We left the house at the same time – me going home and him going to get The Boy.

And I realized… that’s what started it.

I couldn’t go to the concert.

But I wanted to.

Did I know I wanted to? Nope.

Did I ask if I could go? Nope.

Did we talk at all about my going? Nope.

But in my head, I got ahead of the situation. Spending the week with Mr. J2 was too good. Just like a fantasy, and so when we got back to reality – The Ex not having met me and, let’s be honest, I’m really not part of the family – it just hit me suddenly.

And wham. Down came the boom.

What makes me angry and frustrated is that NO ONE did this to me. No one made me feel bad; no one said anything to me to make me feel anything, and no one actually said that I couldn’t go.

I did this to myself.

Well… that and PMS. I am totally going to give PMS partial credit for this one. (I’m just glad I get sad and I don’t turn into the bitch from hell)

But it was all in my head. I wanted to be there. I wanted to be in the crowd watching The Daughter play.

But we aren’t there yet. I know that.

Well, my head knows that. My heart, it seems, didn’t get the message.

I’m better now, though. Some sleep, some junk food, and some time helped me see that I was making things worse than they were. I’m jumping ahead to step 8 when in reality we are only on step 3.

And so we still have a few more steps to go.

Patience has NEVER been my virtue. But in this case, I just have to let it go.

It will happen. I know it will. But not on my schedule. Not on anyone’s schedule.

When the time is right, I will be there, along with the rest of her family, cheering her on.

I hope.


Single Again

Well. That was a shocker.

Yep. I am now single. And not by choice.

For two weeks, it seemed that Mr. M. was keeping his distance. His messages and emails seemed a little distant. He made no effort to get together.

My Spidey-senses were tingling… and when they tingle, I listen.

So after not seeing him for 10 days, I texted him and asked if he was okay.

His reply took awhile coming but was as follows:

“I know I’ve been keeping a little more to myself lately in general. Not sure why that is. Maybe things started out really fast and it’s catching up with me a little.”

Okay, what the fuck does that mean? Honestly?

So I replied:

“That’s fair. How do you want to go forward… or do you? If you’d rather be alone, or see other people, you should let me know.”

At this point I have to say that I deserve a pat on the back for this. Normally I would just let things go on and on and then wait for him to make the move, not wanting to hear bad news. But my lesson from my last relationship was to just confront it. Sure, it hurts to find out things are over, but the not knowing? Is worse.

So he replied:

“I’m not interested in seeing anyone else. I am just so used to being alone. There’s a strange kind of comfort in it. I like you and don’t want to stop where we are but I’m not sure I’m ready to move things forward if that makes any sense. If it sounds confusing I think it’s because it is. When I went online dating, I had no idea what to expect or what I was looking for.”

Well then you shouldn’t have written that you were looking for a relationship if you didn’t want one, right?

So I replied:

“I’m not quite sure how to respond to that. You sound like you aren’t quite ready to commit to dating and everything that goes along with it, such as meeting the friends, the family, etc. Quite possibly because you haven’t dated anyone in six years since your divorce.  Maybe fear? It is difficult to put yourself out there fully to someone after being hurt. Always the chance you’ll get hurt again. It’s not easy to do and maybe you aren’t ready for that.”

He replies, after a long, agonizing wait:

“I really don’t know how to be in a relationship, I guess. I think you are right, I haven’t been down this path yet and I don’t know that I am ready to commit to travelling down it now. I am sorry for that. You and I seem so compatible and have so much in common. Please don’t think of me as being a jerk I try really hard not to be that guy.”

So what could I say to that? He’s allowed to have his feelings and his fear. If he wasn’t ready, nothing could change that.

Our last communication was my saying he wasn’t a jerk and he can’t help what he feels, and that all I ever asked for was honesty, which (I hope) he was giving me.

His last words were “thank you”.

And that was it.

There was nothing more I could say to him.

But what I wanted to say to him was: You might not realize it but you DO know how to be in a relationship. For two months you did and said everything right. You asked the right questions about me and my past; you shared the right information about your own past relationships; you talked about your kids, your hobbies, your tastes in movies and music. You even shared some issues you had with intimacy.

Whether or not he wanted – or knew it – he was in a relationship with me.

And now he’s not.

I totally did not see it coming. I mean, other than the last two weeks, I thought we were happy. Laughing, smiling. Having fun.

So now I am single again.

What is wrong with me? I knew this wouldn’t last. I did it to myself by getting my hopes up. By imaging a life. A possible life with him. No, not marriage but… I allowed myself to imagine Thanksgiving. Christmas. Maybe a winter sun vacation. Meeting his family.

All of which are now in the toilet.

As is my self-confidence.

How could I have seen this coming? Reading my previous posts… there was no way. Everything was going well. Great. Excellent.

Or so I thought – apparently not.

And now I get to start all over again. Online dating. The profiles. The comments. The men.


Next week I will be travelling overseas – I’ll be in Ireland for 11 days – and so I think I will put this search off until then. Give myself some time to not worry about my relationship status.

Besides… there is always the chance that in some bar in Ireland I will find myself a William from P.S. I Love You. (I’ve always been more partial to William than Gerry)

Hey… it’s better to laugh about it than to cry. I did my share of crying last week, trust me.


Melancholy Baby

Today I am incredibly melancholy.

Eight years ago today I got married.

Biggest mistake of my life.

Biggest. Mistake.

I am in the process of formally ending things, considering we have been separated for over four years.

It’s a good thing. Soon it will be officially over. No more ties. Not that it would really change anything – we’ve both moved on with our lives.

But it makes me melancholy today.

I’d love to go out for dinner with a girlfriend and just talk. Talk about it all. Maybe have a few drinks, toast to the ending to a story that never should have been written.

I know, I know – if I hadn’t made that choice eight years ago then I wouldn’t be in the spot where I am today, surrounded by the people I am with today.

I know all that.

But I still have big regrets. And I don’t regret much.

I don’t know what I am feeling today, nor why I am feeling it.

I want nothing more than to go out to dinner with my girlfriends and trash-talk the ex, do a ‘thank goodness that’s over’ toast and just be silly.

Not gonna happen.

I don’t have any friends who knew me when I was married. How sad is that?

Part of it is that I let him alienate me from my friends, and the one close friend I had during that time… well that friendship is over as well.

That makes me sad, but it wasn’t my choice. It was hers to end it, but that’s long in the past.

And I miss it, I miss having that one confidante, the one friend who knows all your secrets, your joys, your sorrows. Your regrets. Your celebrations.

I’m dying to talk to someone about Mr. M., to confirm that most of what I feel is all in my head.

Because I do that – I think too much and it does not make for a happy ending.

I have realized though that a lot of what I feel on a daily basis is the direct result of my brain sabotaging me.

Last week when Mr. M. was away, I didn’t hear from him for two days.

And that took me over the edge.

I could have contacted him but my stubborn pride got in the way.

That and my fear and insecurities.

In my last post I detailed about how I think he should be talking about me to his family.

And, maybe he is. I haven’t asked, so for all I know he has talked about me.

But in my mind, he hasn’t. And because he hadn’t contacted me, in my mind, things were going downhill with him.

I finally realized that I can’t be upset with him for not checking in for a couple of days. It’s all me, all in my head. I can’t be upset with him for not doing something I THINK he should be doing.

I mean, how fucked is that? I was all upset and crying and out of my mind for no reason (personally I blame half of it on PMS).

The Tuesday night we ended up going to a movie together and it was just fine.

But on Monday, I had to make it out to be the end of the world.

Snotty ugly cry and all.

But it wasn’t.

So just because I THINK he should be taking me with him to the cottage when he goes doesn’t mean he’s ready for that. Just because I THINK he should bring me to dinner with his boys doesn’t mean he’s ready for that (or that it would be fair to his kids).

Mr. M. moves at his own pace in his own time – whether it be responding to emails, texts or dates. And it might not be the same pace as me, but that doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing. it’s not. The important thing is that we are moving together in the same direction.

Going forward, not backwards.

Which is why tonight instead of thinking about all the time I wasted with someone who broke me, I should celebrate my soon-to-be freedom.

And also celebrate the lessons learned from the experience.

Because if I didn’t learn anything from that time… then I’m a bigger fool than I thought.

A Better Day

Well for a Monday, today was a better day.

I haven’t cried yet.

That in itself is a huge thing.

I’m still chatting with Mr. R. He still sends me his xoxoxoxox all the time. And I do return his hugs and kisses, because to not do so would be rude.

I’m not going to push him to come see me. If he can’t get away, then that’s fine – maybe even better. Maybe this way, I can just… fade away.

I’m trying to keep busy as someone suggested but that is easier said than done. The issue isn’t just that Mr. R doesn’t want me… it’s that I am lonely.

I have few friends; even fewer close friends.

And so dealing with this situation on my own has been difficult, to say the least.

And yes I know some of you might be reading this and thinking that I am nothing but a huge whiner for complaining about such little things when there are bigger problems in the world.

But this is my little piece of the world. And so I complain. And whine. And cry.

My thoughts are turning to summer plans. I have a solo beach vacation booked for the first week in August and I am unsure whether to go or to cancel.

When I first booked it I thought perhaps someone would join me on the trip. It’s just a few days….

But then I’ve come to realize that really isn’t going to happen. That Mr. R is not, in fact, going to ‘pick me’ (see earlier post).

I’m single. And I think that I might be single for a really long time to come. And if I want to travel and do things… then, well, I am going to have to do them on my own.

Even though for myself, half the fun of traveling is sharing the experience with someone. I mean, to finish the day with a nice meal, talking about everything you saw that day.

Isn’t that why people travel?

I need to stop hoping and daydreaming and wishing and thinking that things will change. I can’t change them; I am not in charge of this situation. No matter how much I want it… I can’t have it. No amount of money or work or will or determination will change that.

I just finished reading a book in which the main character is a recovering alcoholic. It had a lot of AA stuff in there, but AA was not the focus of the book. It’s a chick-lit book.

But at some moments the book really got to me. A few points hit home. That I have to ‘accept the things I cannot change’.

No matter how much I want to, I cannot change the situation.

I have to accept that this is the way things will be.

Easier said than done.

Day by day, right? Isn’t that what they say?

So I will take today. And then tomorrow. And then the next day.

And hopefully it will get better.

Hope Hurts

It’s the secret no one tells you.

Everyone says ‘be hopeful’. And ‘have faith’.

But you know what?

They are all full of shit.

Having hope is a painful thing.

You work yourself up. You get excited. You look forward to things.

You make plans. You imagine scenarios.

You look to the future. A wonderful future.

And then? Nothing works out the way you plan.

And it hurts.

It’s devastating.

It’s emotionally draining.

I’ve spent every day of the last week in some sort of depressed mood. I’ve cried every single day.

Every. Single. Day.

And I have no one to blame but myself.

Sensing a theme here, are we?

In the past I have learned to take responsibility for my decisions in life. I’ve always maintained that I have no one to blame but myself. If I can’t be honest here, then where can I be?

I’ve had a sex buddy. A few years ago, before I met my most recent ex-boyfriend, a friend and I gave each other comfort. It was someone I trusted. It ended when I started dating my ex. He’s since moved on and is happy, and I am happy for him.

I know I am capable of that kind of relationship. No strings. Just sex, comfort and friendship.

But not, it seems, with Mr. R.

Mr. R. is not to totally to blame for the situation. Yes, he can take part of the blame for the action part of what happened. We discussed things slightly this week, and he refused to let me take all the blame.


On Friday, I told him that I was “finding the situation a little more difficult to handle than I thought”.

His response? “Good, glad I am not the only one.”

I mean, WTF?

So I asked, him, “how is it difficult?”

All he responded was that it is a longer story than he is willing to type.

So of course I apologized for prying.

And then he asked about me.

And so I told him honestly that I had become more invested than I should be.

To which he replied, ‘same here.’

I repeat: W.T.F.?

He holds the cards. Unless this chick is pregnant, or God forbid, dying, it seems there is a simple way to fix this.

Instead of two people being miserable and one being semi-happy, two people could be completely happy.

So I have made a decision.

Mr. R. discussed getting together in the next week or so. He’ll come to my town for the day.

And at the end of the day…. I am going to tell him that I cannot be friends with him any longer.

It’s not an ultimatum. Or a threat. Or a game.

I have to end things, because I can’t go on like this any longer.

It’s going to hurt like a sonofabitch, but I have to do it. I can’t keep going on, feeling like his girlfriend from Monday to Friday, and then get radio silence on the weekends because he has visitors.

And what is he thinking? He asked me to be his ‘lover’. Then he warned me about how close he was with his parents. His exact words on the phone were, ‘well I am really close with my parents, just so you know. I’m warning you now”.

Doesn’t that mean that at some point I am supposed to meet his parents? In a capacity other than just friendship?

So to save myself, I have to end things. I can’t keep going on this way. I need to put some distance between us, and I can’t do that with all the friendly chatting we do.

A clean break is the best. Well, not the best. In fact it is the exact opposite of best. But it’s the only way. I haven’t felt this way about someone in fifteen years. Sure, a breakup is painful but this is worse than anything I’ve been thought in a while. And I have had so much sadness in my life. I honestly thought that my time for happiness was now. That I finally met the person who was right for me.

But this is not the case.

Just thinking about it brings me to tears. But this whole situation is not fair to me. I used to joke that I was my ex boyfriend’s ‘dirty little secret’, because he never took me out with his friends. Sure some in his family knew about me but only because they HAD to know. But in general? I was non-existent. He was a single guy.

But the joke is on me, because now I actually AM a dirty little secret.

And it sucks.

My Own Worst Enemy

Well that was a weekend from hell.

And… trust me, I know: I have no one to blame but myself.

I don’t know what got into me this weekend, especially yesterday. I spent most of yesterday and part of today crying and depressed.

The big, ugly cry, too.

I am my own worse enemy.

For the past two months Mr. R. and I have pretty much been inseparable. By distance, sure – but if there is technology, we are connected.

We talk on the phone, by messenger. As often as we can.

I’ll say it – we had mind-blowing sex. In his words, ‘the best of his life’.

We enjoyed each other’s company. We talked, we ate. We walked.

And when together last week? It was arm in arm.

We slept together. All night. We cuddled at 5 am.

We got ready for work together. We shared breakfast together.

We kissed each other goodbye.

And two minutes later, before I was even out of the hotel parking lot, he had texted me xoxox.

On his way out-of-town, he stopped by to have lunch with me at work.

He asked me to be his ‘lover’. To be honest, I don’t even know what that means at this point.

He just spent the weekend with his …. ‘friend’. (I honestly don’t know what to call her. His girlfriend? His other lover? The woman he has been seeing for almost two years, whom he knows he needs to end things with?)

While I was home. Alone.


Insane with jealousy.

What’s wrong with me? I let things with Mr. R go way too far.

A friend told me that ‘guys are slow’.

Really? How much slower can it get?

How can he tell me he had the best sex of his life with me and then still be spending the weekend with her?

I repeat: what’s wrong with me?