Reconnecting

This weekend we went to my cousin’s wedding in a small town about 1.5 hours from where we live.

Mr. J booked the day off work in order to attend the event with me. He doesn’t get many random days to take off in a year, so using one for this was appreciated.

The drive to the wedding was slightly strained. He knew that I was still hurting/angry from the week, added to the fact that having been busy with his children for most of the week, we didn’t talk much. For the last three nights he only came to bed after I was asleep.

So I wanted this weekend to be about US. (Sorry cousin!) I wanted us to get dressed up, to be social, to drink and eat and dance and be surrounded by love.

We’d lost touch last week, in part from our lack of communication, and in part because of how I am feeling overall about our relationship of late.

Ironically, we sat at the ‘unmarried’ table. There were six of us: the couple to our left have been together for six years, but not married. The women across from us (not a couple, but friends who came together), are both not married. One has been with her partner for 16 years, the other, with hers for a whopping 38 years. Never married.

So Mr. J joked (privately to me) that we were the worst at the table. Not only had I been divorced three times (!!!), but he was still married.

Now at this point we had both had a few cocktails and so I believe he meant that as a joke. As in, ‘how scandalous’!!

But having had a cocktail myself, the tone might not have been so playful when I turned to him and said, “trust me, I am well aware of that fact”.  (Actually, that’s not true. I said something else but now, writing this, I can’t quite remember what it was exactly. So that will suffice until I remember what I actually said (if I ever do)).

At that point, I got up and went to get myself another drink at the bar.

I cooled off a little, then went back to the table. Our dinner arrived, we chatted amongst our new friends… and the evening went well. I had fun. I hope Mr. J had fun.

We chatted, listened to music, ate dinner. Drank. Watched the newlyweds in their loving glow.

Then later on in the evening, the dancing started, and Mr. J and I actually had our very first dance. He says he is not much of a dancer, and let me tell you – when it comes to slow dancing, he is very good. He does the basic ‘sway’ – no fancy footwork here – but he makes up for it in the way he held me tight. Secure against him.

As if to say ‘you’re mine, and I’m not letting you go’.

So I can forgive the guy if his fast dance moves make him look like he’s auditioning for the Yoko Ono video ‘Bad Dancer‘. (I wish I was kidding. Sadly, I’m not.)

While our communication issue is still ‘there’, this weekend getaway did help our relationship. It did help us to reconnect. I left the issue at home, and tried to concentrate on US. On being present and enjoying the moment with him. On celebrating my cousin and her new husband – along with everyone else in the room.

This weekend also proved that we don’t have to ‘travel’ to get away. I realized that we’ve gone away twice this year so far, and both times have been really good. This time, for the wedding, as well as one overnight in March to visit my mother.

And I realized that maybe this is the key. Mr. J said he doesn’t like to ‘travel’. Maybe the long distance, and his time away from home is what freaks him out. So I am going to talk to him about a compromise. Instead of long road trips, maybe our thing will be short overnight stays; we could easily leave after he finishes work on a Saturday afternoon, drive somewhere for an overnight, and then come back home the next day. To not go further away than where my mom lives, but still somewhere out of the area. We drive there, check into a hotel, have dinner, then we relax, have some really hot hotel room sex. Then the next morning we check out, explore the area, and then leave to arrive home just after suppertime, giving us enough time to take care of a few things before work the next day. Nothing stressful, nothing rushed.

Just some time away to relax and recharge.

Tomorrow night (his summer hockey begins tonight), I will bring this up with him to see what he thinks. We could do a weekend in July or August to test the waters, and see how he feels about it. We can go forward to get him his passport which would open up a lot more options for us, travel-wise.

But, one step at a time. I’d like to bask in the glow from this weekend and appreciate what we had.

Just a little while longer.

 

Lyin’ Eyes

Well the bubble has burst big-time, my friends.

Last week I caught Mr. J in a lie.

A stupid, stupid lie.

And now I don’t know what to do about it.

The kicker is, I knew before he told me that it was a lie.

Let me back up, shall I?

Two weeks ago Sunday, Mr. J and the daughter were outside working on the car. He had forgotten to bring his phone out, so I grabbed it and was bringing it to him when he received a message, from The Ex.

Of course I glanced at it – not my fault he has preview on his screen, is it?

So the message had to do with her thinking about changing laundry soap because of allergies. Not rash-type, because I would have heard about that. All I have heard in the past from The Daughter is that Mom always washes all the clothes when the kids go back to her place because she ‘hates the smell of Gain’.

So, whatever. Wash if you like. I love the smell of Gain.

Then the following Tuesday, Mr. J and I were at Costco, and Gain was on sale. So I asked if he wanted to get some detergent. He said, “no – my friend Dave told me that there are some detergents that cause cancer so I’m thinking of switching.”

Now I work in a medical library. I know how to do research. And I knew he had been told stuff about cancer because he has a soft spot – his mom died young of cancer, and so he is really careful about certain things. He won’t microwave anything in a plastic container, for example.

So if you want to really make him think… that’s how to do it.

All I told him was, ‘where’s the research on that? I’ve never heard of anything like that, and if stuff was really bad for you, it would be pulled from the market. Let me do some research before you make your decision.”

So the next day I did some research. And I learned that there are a lot of sites out there that claim that detergents cause cancer. Most of those sites are not ones that I would say are valid resources though. But then I found a couple of articles in reputable sites that said that yes, laundry soaps do release a certain chemical that ‘has been linked’ to cancer. However, the article also stated that the amounts are so small that you would have to almost ingest the stuff for it to do any real damage. And on that list, Gain was listed fourth, after Tide and a couple of other name-brand products.

My takeaway from that is there is no real long-term chance of cancer from using those products.

In my email to Mr. J with the links included, I asked that he ‘change detergents because he wants to, not because someone thinks he should’.

(Meaning I know she is trying to scare you to do something she wants you to do.)

A week passes. The following Saturday, The Daughter is in the kitchen with us. She hugs her dad and smells him. Then she says, “did you change soap yet? You don’t smell like Gain now.” And then I heard something mumbled about Mom and I think ‘charcoal’ so I am not sure if she is using a charcoal detergent or if heard wrong.

The bottom line is, I knew that The Ex was asking him to change soaps, not ‘his friend Dave’.

I actually caught him in a lie. First time.

And the first time sucks.

I called him on it too, as he was still cooking dinner. His reply was that it was easier to tell me it was ‘Dave’ than to tell me the real reason – to avoid a confrontation, he alluded.

So instead of not saying anything about it at all, he flat-out lied to my face.

It’s been five days and I don’t know how to handle this.

I am so hurt that he lied to me – about something so fucking stupid. So now of course I don’t know how to trust anything he says. And I am constantly wondering if he’s lied about other things as well.

We had plans to go out that night, which we did. We met a friend of mine to listen to a band play. We talked briefly about The Lie at bar, with me ending it by saying, ‘you know that when you lied you put The Ex up here” – I raised my hand high, ‘but at the same time, you put me down here,” – and I put my hand to my hips. “You put her ahead of me” I told him.

And we haven’t discussed it since. The kids have been with us, The Ex had to talk to him after hockey this week (again – funny how on both occasions when we’ve been there together, she finds a reason to keep him late to ‘talk’), his father is visiting and it’s been hectic.

There are so many emotions I am feeling. Anger, that he lied. Hurt, that he did it in the first place – and the fact that he never apologized for doing it. Sadness that he doesn’t respect me enough to tell me the truth – or in this case, to tell me nothing at all. Seriously, why didn’t he just said, ‘nope, we have enough soap’ when I asked? Then none of this would have happened.

But the most I feel is real sadness. That again, a man has lied to me about something so incredibly stupid. This was how my last relationships ended… it all starts with that first lie. So easy to do, and once you start… will there be an end?

Now I don’t know how to go forward. Do I keep pretending it didn’t happen, or do I push him to talk about it? Or send him a text message?

How do I move forward and put this behind me? Do I trust that he isn’t going to do this again?

Fuck.

All Quiet On the Eastern Front

(Warning – this gets a little graphic near the end… apologies in advance)

Hello loyal followers!

No, I have not fallen down, unable to get up.

I’ve been busy.

I’v been … dare I say it?

Happy.

Really and truly happy.

Mr. J2 and I are coming up on eight months together.

And it’s been wonderful.

In May I took a short vacation with my brother to DC. It was a good – but not great – trip.

Part of it was the heat… part of it was…

I missed Mr. J2.

(Pathetic, I know)

We’ve been spending more time together – if that’s at all possible. We took a weekend to visit his father and brothers, along with the kids. It was a great experience as it was my first road trip with the kids and Mr. J2.

The kids seem to like me – they chatter incessantly when I first show up. And we’ve started increasing the sleepovers little by little, and the kids seem fine with it.

We all seem pretty fine with it.

I think the biggest change when I move in with them in the Fall will be with me. I will have to figure out my role within their family dynamic. Unlike my last experience, I won’t necessarily be a step-mother, and I don’t see the children really needing one. Mom is very active and present in their lives which is great. But at the same time then I wonder exactly where I will fall. For example, The Daughter has joined Facebook. She sent me a friend request, which of course I accepted. She likes a status or one of my photos here and there, or shares something I’ve posted… but I try not to tag or post to her profile. I did post some photos from the weekend road trip but I did not tag her in any of those photos. She can see them as we are friends, but I figured if she wants to tag herself, she can do it.

Part of my reasoning is that Mom is also one of her Facebook friends, and whenever Mom tags The Daughter in a post, I see it. And call me crazy but I don’t want to put The Daughter in the middle that way by tagging her in my stuff.

Not because I am not proud and happy to know her… but because I respect her privacy. And in a small way, I want to keep some stuff private from Mom, even though there is no way she can see anything on my profile other than my profile photos.

Is it awkward? Not really. I am trying very hard for it not to be. I still wish she would back off a little with Mr. J2 – I am shallow enough to admit that I find her constant messaging to him to be excessive in some cases.

But that is my issue, and I have to learn to accept it.

The same way I have to accept moving into a house with a ghost.

But I think, over time, that ghost will fade. Mr. J2 is trying very hard, as am I, to change things enough so it doesn’t seem so much like I am replacing someone.

Which, let’s face it – is exactly what is happening.

Maybe not ‘replacing’ exactly as I will never be the mother of his children, and probably never his wife.

But I see the residual ghost, here and there.

And then there are the times when I will be washing dishes, or watering the plants outdoors and I will see Mr. J2 with small smile on his lips say to me, “I love you Miss Anonymous”.

And my heart swells, because I know it’s because he is content. He is happy. He knows we are in a good place and that we are good together.

Because we are good together.

Especially in the sex department.

A few weeks ago he told me I had just given him “the best orgasm” of his life.

Who knew I had  such a talent?

Well, it’s easy to enjoy sex with someone who… well… enjoys sex.

Who enjoys pleasing as much as the other person does. Someone who knows that it’s okay to ‘take one for the team’ and make it all about the other person once in a while.

And what that man does to me…. he kisses me and two seconds and I am ready to go. He barely touches me and I’m gone.

He’s made my body do things it’s never done before.

And while I might not be able to say I’ve had the best orgasm of my life (although who the hell am I kidding – I’ve lost track of how many with him that I probably have had the best of my life) I can honestly say it’s been the best sex of my life.

Partly because I’ve grown as a woman and as a sexual being – to  know what I like. To know how to have three different kinds of orgasms.

I also am not afraid to tell him what I want.

For example, on Saturday I was feeling a little low. Not sure why – no real reason.

So I asked Mr. J2 if it could be about me that night.

So when he arrived home from work I greeted him wearing a sexy black dress that hugged my curves.

And nothing on underneath.

Now – he didn’t know that, but I did. And for me, that was an incredible turn on.

We sat and chatted. We had some wine. We had some dinner. We watched a movie.

And as we watched the movie, his hand may grazed a special place of mine.

And found me completely wet and ready for him.

That’s just how it is with him. I don’t need wooing. I don’t need lube or toys (both of which we use and have fun with) to have incredibly hot, passionate, amazing sex with him.

I just need to be next to him. On a couch. Watching a movie.

It was one of the hottest experiences ever. To hear his gentle laugh of surprise at finding me wet and ready for him just added to my pleasure.

What followed was another one of our marathon sex sessions. Couch to bedroom…. all the while U2’s The Joshua Tree played in the background.

All I know is that I barely heard the music – I was a little pre-occupied at the time.

But when we finished, all was quiet. The album had finished playing. We were both sated.

And again I had lost count of the number of orgasms I’d had.

(I’m sorry if it seems like I am bragging.)

#sorrynotsorry

But given that both Mr. J2 and I have been in a relationship/marriage where the sex had deteriorated… it makes me happy to know that we are still going strong.

Will it fade? Probably. I’m sure, especially after I move in, that the frequency will fade a little.

But so long as the desire remains, and we make sure to have our special in-house ‘date nights’ like we did on Saturday – then I don’t think we have anything to worry about.

It’s about fucking time.

 

 

Six Months

This weekend Mr. J2 and I officially celebrated our six month anniversary.

While it wasn’t technically the anniversary of our first date – which happened three weeks after we started talking, we did go to the same restaurant.

We started the day with a breakfast of French toast and bacon with the kids, and I had spent the night. The Daughter and I spent Friday evening watching the first few episodes of Glee and hanging out with Dad.

Saturday we hung out with the kids for a bit and then ran a few errands, followed by preparation for date night. But first, I gave him his first present.

2016-04-30 14.15.46

I had seen this done on Pinterest (love Pinterest!) and with some modification I made it work. Candy in little jars and cute sayings. Mr. J2 loves sweets so this was a simple, inexpensive gift that kept on giving. Mini Big Turks, gummy butterflies, dark chocolate covered almonds, Hershey’s Kisses and Reese’s Pieces completed the set. It might have only cost me about $20 in candy (and leftovers) but seeing the surprise and delight on his face (no pun intended) was worth it.

Then it was time to get ready for date night. I did all my pre-date rituals (shower, shave, makeup, hair) and brought a new dress to wear to dinner. Mr. J2 dressed up as well and then I gave him the cuff links I’d had engraved.

With not just his initials… but also with mine. I had one done with his and the other with mine. (I won’t post a photo due to anonymity)

I know, I’m a sap, what can I say? But he brings this part out of me. With him I want to buy the sappy cards, the sappier the better. In fact, when I leave his place and go back to mine for the week, I usually leave a card for him to find somewhere in the bedroom. Beneath some underwear, on the bathroom shelf, under his pillow.

Just a little something to let him know I am always thinking of him.

I’m sure you are wondering what I received as a gift from Mr. J2. Well, the week before, he bought me a dresser.

I know it sounds weird, but he bought me the same dresser he is already using in his room, so that when I stay with him, now my clothes are in my own dresser and not just stuffed in a cubby next to the bed.

No, it didn’t have a big red bow on it, and no, there wasn’t a sappy card but that doesn’t matter to me.

The dresser, while practical, is actually quite romantic. It means he wants me there. It means we have a future together, and he wants to start it with me. To build a life with me.

Which says more to me than a card ever could.

So after gifts and getting dressed, Mr. J2 happily posed for some photos with me. We don’t have many photos of the two of us, so I wanted a few that were not selfies or taken with cellphone cameras. So I set up my tripod and my SLR camera and took a bunch of great ones.

After the photo shoot we went to dinner, and yes, I ordered the same thing as on our first date. What can I say? It was a great lasagna and I will probably order it again the next time we go.

Then we drove home after dinner, full of lasagna and steak and cheesecake, to have a few drinks and to watch Casablanca. You see, I had never seen the movie in its entirety. I had heard it was such a romantic film that I had, as an adult, always wanted to sit and watch it with someone special.

That never happened, until now.

So we watched it and enjoyed some cocktails.

And some kisses. God DAMN that man can kiss. I told him last week and it’s so true – his kisses knock my socks off.

So after the movie, I decided it was time for me to knock HIS socks off.

Earlier in the week I picked up a little something from the lingerie store. White and black, satin and lace. With black garters, stockings, and even long black elbow gloves.

Oh yes I did.

And if I can be so bold as to say I DID knock his socks off.

And all his other clothes as well…. oops.

I don’t know what it is about this man but he just does something to me. Not just physically – or maybe not ONLY physically. There is just something about him. I don’t want to say the old cliché of “I’ve never felt this way before” but in this case, it’s true.

He’s the whole package. The real deal.

And do you know why I don’t care that he doesn’t buy me sappy cards?

Because he tells me sappy things all the time. He tells me how fantastic I look – whether it’s office wear, evening date dress wear, or lingerie. (Especially when I wear lingerie).

He looks at me when I’m naked after my morning pee and tells me how fantastic I look.

He tells me out of the blue with no prompting how amazing I am. How awesome.

And that he loves me. Not just in response when I say it but he will look at me with a small smile and just say, “I love you Miss Anonymous”.

He makes the ordinary extraordinary. Be it shopping, or cooking or cleaning the house. His sense of humour, his infectious smile, his crinkly eyes that dance mischievously…

He makes me happy. It makes me happy to be with him. To love him. To be in love with him. To walk with him. Argue about chicken wing sauces with him. Cook with him. Clean with him. Sleep with him. Shop with him.

Have incredible mind-blowing sex with him. (That black and white number – best $25 I’ve ever spent!)

He not only loves me for me, he happily goes along with my request to take silly photos or to get dressed up for dinner. He doesn’t make me feel bad about wanting to do those silly things. He embraces who I am and supports what I want.

Imagine. A handsome, sexy man who loves me, can kiss me senseless, will pose for photos with me, loves my cooking (and cooking with me), and looks at me each and every night with desire in his eyes.

I have everything I ever wanted in my life… but I never before thought myself deserving of someone so handsome and kind and thoughtful and funny and sexy.

Six months already.

I can’t wait for the next 600.

 

Emergency Contact

This weekend was a full one for myself and Mr. J2.

On Friday night we had our first family sleepover.

I had spent the night in the house before, but only when one of the kids was home. This time, both of them were there.

I think both kids may have teased Mr. J2 a little about it but it went off without a hitch.

And if they heard the noise coming from their father’s room at 11 pm and again at 8 am… Ahem.

What can I say? We can’t keep our hands off each other.

And to be honest? That’s not a bad thing. It means that Dad is happy.

Mr. J2 and I also saw a lot of each other this past week. I was there for dinner three nights out of five.

The interesting thing was that when I wasn’t there on Thursday night, Mr. J2 told me that as he was preparing dinner, The Daughter asked where I was.

Which again: that’s not a bad thing.(At least in my books.)

So on Friday night (before the bedroom started shaking) everyone was doing their own thing. The Boy was in his room playing his online games, The Daughter was in her room putting together a very intricate Lego design, and Mr. J2 and I went for a walk after dinner, followed by some wine and couch time.

Exactly how I think a typical Friday night will be.

The next day was a family gathering on my side: my niece had her son’s first birthday party at a restaurant, so 19 people gathered to eat Asian food and wish the baby a happy birthday.

Mr. J2 and I sat with my brother and his girlfriend. Then we went to her place for drinks following the party.

After a few glasses of wine – and perhaps another one at home – the night turned into a typical Saturday night for us.

Wine was consumed.

Clothing came off.

And the clothes weren’t the only thing to come off. (Once again I lost track of how many orgasms I had.)

Am I bragging? Maybe just a little. #sorrynotsorry

On Sunday, we had more downtime and a visit with more extended family. We changed some tires on my car (okay, I watched it get done), some beer was consumed, some car talk happened.

After a quick stop at my place to pick up more supplies, we headed back to Mr. J2’s house so he could lie down and rest.

On the drive there, we chatted about my ex-brother in law, whom we had spent the morning with. (Technically he is my ex-sister in law’s brother, but I’ve known him for so long (38 years) it’s easier to just refer to him as my brother-in-law.) We were talking about things and I casually mentioned that he was my In Case of Emergency contact on my phone.

Then, Mr. J2 said “well when I was at the hospital earlier this month, I put you down as my Emergency Contact.”

Yeah, that.

If I hadn’t been driving at the time, I would have given him a hug and a kiss, because that?

Brought me to tears. I was driving and had to keep it on the down-low, but still.

I’m his Emergency Contact.

And it warms me to the bottom of my heart to know that I was the first person he thought of when filling out the form.

Me.

So tonight, I will change my phone contacts to list him as MY emergency contact.

Because even though there’s no one else I’d rather have fill that role, it’s one more step in our relationship. One more connection we have to each other.

One more way of saying that he is mine – and I’m his.

 

 

 

 

Five Months

It’s been five months since I first met Mr. J2.

Even though we technically didn’t meet until November 19th, we’re using Halloween, October 31 as our ‘first meet’.

I can’t believe that it’s been five months already. It seems both shorter and longer than it should be. I feel as if I’ve known him for such a long time – and at the same time, I can’t believe that already a quarter of the year has gone by.

Seriously. New Year’s was three months ago. What the fuck?

And after five months, this man still amazes me.

Every. Day.

He’s the most kind and caring man I’ve ever met.

He melts me with his words. He tells me all the time how amazing I am. Out of the blue, too – not just in response to something I’ve said to him.

He constantly tells me I am beautiful. And sexy. I said to him last night – and it’s true every day – that he actually ‘reveres’ me. He looks at my body as if it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

Seriously.

He is so incredibly sexy. I’m still kicking myself because last week I missed an opportunity to photograph him in the buff – he was in the bathroom doorway, naked, looking at a book. I told him to just shift his leg to hide his junk and he was truly amazing to behold. I grabbed my phone but missed the shot – and even if I ask him to pose for me it would not be the same.

The sex is still amazing. Last night was Wine Sunday – and I honestly lost track of how many orgasms I had.

Seriously.

The sex has never been as good with anyone else in my entire life.

Anyone.

We just… fit.

When we are together physically we are on fire. His kisses excite me like no one ever has – one touch and I am immediately ready.

And the funny thing is… it’s the same for him. Last week I put porn on the TV and we watched about ten minutes of this very sexy, very tiny girl – she had on all of J2’s favorite items – skimpy bra, g-string, garters, stockings and even a trench coat (I dressed up for him that way once and can vouch for his enthusiasm). We watched for a bit and then I reached for him and to my surprise, he was not ready. He was not excited in the least. He told me that it did nothing for him, that I was what excited him. And after two minutes of kissing and touching me, he was fully ready to go.

Imagine. A man who is not excited by porn.

Seriously.

Even when we do the simple things like cook dinner together- I can’t keep my hands off of him. Touching his arms, giving him a quick neck rub, a hug, a kiss. I can’t walk by him in the kitchen without a touch. I have to touch him when we sit together on the couch. Or in a restaurant. Or in the car.

I’ve been longing for this my entire adult life  – and here, at 45, I finally have it.

For the first time in so very, very long, I am well and truly happy.

I don’t think he will ever know just how happy me makes me. Words really can’t express it. I tell him that I love him all the time – but I don’t really know if he will ever know just how wonderful he makes me feel.

I feel happy and beautiful and healthy and smart and funny and coy and shy and sexy and comfortable when I’m with him.

Most importantly, for the first time in so very long, I trust again. After so much pain and hurt, he has allowed me to open up again fully to someone. To be myself again.

To truly love someone again with all my heart.

And by opening up again, I might have found my soul mate. I hate to say it but there it is. I believe that this is the man I was born to love. To laugh with.

To grow old with, til death do us part.

Being loved by him is the best feeling in the world.

I just hope that he feels the same way about me.

No Doubt

I will never again doubt Mr. J2.

I’m sorry for the panicked post yesterday – I read way too much into the text.

For nothing.

The interaction Mr. J2 had with The Ex was the usual. She wants the kids on Easter Sunday to spend the day with her mom.

Even though that day is not her weekend. She has the kids Good Friday and Saturday, then it’s Mr. J2 who takes them Saturday afternoon, Sunday and Monday.

But she thinks because he had them at Thanksgiving she should get them this weekend.

Nope. Thanksgiving was his weekend. Tough titty said the kitty when the milk was warm.

But she had to go on and on and about how he was punishing her for “doing something for herself” (read: leaving the marriage), and blames her for ending the marriage.

Fine. Mr. J2 accepts some responsibility for problems in the marriage, even though he did change to accommodate her wishes, but she ultimately walked out and left him. So, technically… she did END the marriage. (Imagine, you ask a man to change and he does. And you still aren’t happy. Problem isn’t with him honey, it’s with you.)

But she doesn’t want to be the bad guy. Fine. Whatever.

Then she had to go and really piss Mr. J2 off, by saying that she’s “glad” he is happy (she totally isn’t) but said that he just “found someone to fill the void”.

Excuse me?

Fuck you, lady. (Demolition Man. Love that movie.)

He is not using me to ‘fill the void’. Mr. J2 told her that in no uncertain terms. (Besides, what is her boyfriend if not a replacement for her husband?)

I had a hard time containing myself. So many things I wanted to say.

I wanted to say: “Yeah, honey… it would take three of me to fill the big gaping void you left”

I wanted to say: “yes, he fills the void every night… sometimes three times a day that void is filled.”

I wanted to say: “he loves filling the void. Best void filling of his life”

But I said nothing. I let Mr. J2 talk. And talk. And the more he talked… the more I realized how much he has come to dislike her. I won’t use the word hate, as this woman is still the mother of his children. But he is seeing her selfishness and bitterness and all the negative stuff coming out.

Then he said something I never thought I would hear him say.

The Daughter was talking about how she thinks Mom will never take The Boyfriend’s name. Now, we are not sure if this is just The Daughter postulating, or if indeed things have progressed to the point that they are actually discussing those issues in front of the kids.

Regardless, when Mr. J2 mentioned that to me, he said that the next time he spoke with her and things were getting heated, he would tell her to just go ahead and change her name back to her maiden name.

“Because at this point,” he said to me, “I really don’t want her to have my name and be associated with me”.

Yeah. This he said stone cold sober.

This man is a family man. Having his wife take his name was very important to him. He never imagined himself divorced. He’s very old fashioned in that way.

So to hear him say that he wants her to take back her maiden name was a big deal.

Through all this, I kept my cool. I listened. I told him I was proud of him for not giving in to her demands. To not letting her have her way.

As it stands anyway, he has planned to take The Daughter to see his family over Easter – The Boy has hockey so he would have to stay behind. Meaning that The Ex would have one child with her for her family dinner.

Do you think she thanked him for letting the kids stay with her for two days of March break even though it was his week with them?

Nope. Just I want, I want, I want.

He even bought up the key issue.

He told her that if she has a key to his house then he should have one to hers.

“But it’s just a rental” she said by way of explanation.

WTF does that mean?

But it’s the inability for her to let go.

I suggested that he do what she did: when he is on holidays next week, he should pack his car with boxes of her stuff, then go over there with The Boy (who can let him in) and drop the boxes off in her garage. Then maybe the next day do it again.

Because my only issue with moving into that house in October is knowing The Ex has a key. If nothing changes by that time I am going to ask him to perhaps change the lock and give new keys to the kids. Call me old-fashioned, but it creeps me out thinking The Ex can walk into MY HOME anytime she wants. Will she? Not likely. She will keep snooping when she is there with the kids.

But it does make me uncomfortable because at that point it will be my home too. I might not own it, but I will be living in it and making it a happy home with Mr. J2 and the kids.

Chew on that, will you.

So I think now I know that Mr. J2 will never go back to her. They can never repair the damage she inflicted with her lies and her selfishness.

Stupid woman.

But her loss is totally, absolutely… and happily my gain.