**For her next trick, the lovely and capable Shellybird will attempt a blog post while weeping and balled up in a fetal position on her couch.**
Hahaha, not really but..really. I squired dear old mom to the grocery store yesterday afternoon, and I ran into my ex boyfriend's mom (a super sweet lady), who happens to be my mommy's high school classmate. While they chattered about septuagenarian life--aches, pains, who from the c/o 1958 has passed away since the last reunion--I flitted around picking up stuff mommy needed. I got back to them and joined the convo. I dared ask how "Ray" my ex was doing. She let me know he was fine, had bought a home, and he's working towards another degree. Awesome! Oh, and his GIRLFRIEND that he met a year or so after I broke up with him is selling her house so they can build a nest together. Um...What the fuque???????
Here's a little background for you: Ray was my first boyfriend. We met as students at the local community college. We were together a collective 17 years; there were breakups in between, during which time he got married and eventually divorced. I had dates here and there, fell in love at the age of 27 with an emotionally abusive 19-year-old and became engaged to him. (That obviously didn't work out because y'all haven't seen me on "Snapped," have you???) After all of that Ray and I got back together, and of course everyone assumed we would get married and live happily ever after. Coming back together like that totally signifies that it was meant to be, right? Well, no...actually, everyone including me was DEAD WRONG. We dated for 6 or 7 more years, and every Christmas, I waited for my engagement ring. My "ring" came in the form of a digital camera, a couple of expensive earring and necklace sets, or cash if he ran out of ideas. He was the only guy I dated that my mommy liked, and occasionally she throws him in my face, and I QUOTE: "Well if you'd hung on to Ray, you'd be married and have those babies you always wanted." LORDT. Yes, he was/is mannerable, a hard worker, he doesn't have babies and an assortment of baby mamas, AND he has no police record--a real prize some might say. However, at the end of the day, I just could not deal with taking the backseat to his mother, his job, or whatever was on the SciFi channel. I wanted to be a wife, not a girlfriend that he called when he "remembered." I didn't want to be taken for granted any longer, so when we had a heart-to-heart and he more or less let me know that he was comfortable in the place we were in our relationship--limbo, as far as I was concerned--I ended it. I was in my late-30's at the time and he was in his early 40's, TOO damn old to be "dating"! Even Joanie and Chachi got married. Come ON.
Hahaha, not really but..really. I squired dear old mom to the grocery store yesterday afternoon, and I ran into my ex boyfriend's mom (a super sweet lady), who happens to be my mommy's high school classmate. While they chattered about septuagenarian life--aches, pains, who from the c/o 1958 has passed away since the last reunion--I flitted around picking up stuff mommy needed. I got back to them and joined the convo. I dared ask how "Ray" my ex was doing. She let me know he was fine, had bought a home, and he's working towards another degree. Awesome! Oh, and his GIRLFRIEND that he met a year or so after I broke up with him is selling her house so they can build a nest together. Um...What the fuque???????
Here's a little background for you: Ray was my first boyfriend. We met as students at the local community college. We were together a collective 17 years; there were breakups in between, during which time he got married and eventually divorced. I had dates here and there, fell in love at the age of 27 with an emotionally abusive 19-year-old and became engaged to him. (That obviously didn't work out because y'all haven't seen me on "Snapped," have you???) After all of that Ray and I got back together, and of course everyone assumed we would get married and live happily ever after. Coming back together like that totally signifies that it was meant to be, right? Well, no...actually, everyone including me was DEAD WRONG. We dated for 6 or 7 more years, and every Christmas, I waited for my engagement ring. My "ring" came in the form of a digital camera, a couple of expensive earring and necklace sets, or cash if he ran out of ideas. He was the only guy I dated that my mommy liked, and occasionally she throws him in my face, and I QUOTE: "Well if you'd hung on to Ray, you'd be married and have those babies you always wanted." LORDT. Yes, he was/is mannerable, a hard worker, he doesn't have babies and an assortment of baby mamas, AND he has no police record--a real prize some might say. However, at the end of the day, I just could not deal with taking the backseat to his mother, his job, or whatever was on the SciFi channel. I wanted to be a wife, not a girlfriend that he called when he "remembered." I didn't want to be taken for granted any longer, so when we had a heart-to-heart and he more or less let me know that he was comfortable in the place we were in our relationship--limbo, as far as I was concerned--I ended it. I was in my late-30's at the time and he was in his early 40's, TOO damn old to be "dating"! Even Joanie and Chachi got married. Come ON.
...Sorry, that was a lot of background. Anyways, here I am, 42 years old, single, and childless, and my ex-boyfriend is probably working toward his second marriage. I don't understand, and I certainly don't think it's fair. I don't begrudge anyone the opportunity to be happy--LEAST of all myself. I still have the "here and there" dates, but the closest I've come to a date OR sex in the past 10 months are the biweekly manicures from my (sexy) Vietnamese nail tech. His hands are so soft, and I don't know what he puts in his hair, but it's absolutely intoxicating. I would be remiss if I didn't share that his body is TIGHT. Oh, WAYMENT...Since my unceremonious release from the Retail Chamber Pot (BOO-YA), I've stopped getting my nails done to save money. I ain't even getting hand sex now.
No comments:
Post a Comment