Today I am thankful for the lessons I've learned this morning.
I have learned that men fall in love in less than 8.2 seconds. According to the latest research it takes around 8.2 seconds of steady eye contact for a man to fall in love with a woman.
This is not shown to be true for women, though. She can stare at you and not feel a darn thing.
I have finally realized when that 8.2 seconds occurred. It was....hmmmm....sixteen months ago. He was giving a speech about the gestalt of universal energy, how it moves around and changes everything it touches.
Yeah, it was a metaphor for sex. I'm not sure he knew that, though. This guy speaks through metaphor but doesn't know what he betrays when he does that.
And he was staring at me for most of that speech. I figured it was because I was the only familiar face in the room. I looked at him because no one in the room was wearing shoes and I have OCD and vomit at the sight of dirty socks.
Sixteen months....oh, my....he's been one patient guy.
I have learned that love is patient.
I have learned that love has the worst timing in the world.
I have learned that true love is confusion.
I have learned that lust is impatient. Those fantasies must be hard and heavy. Do I dare wonder what he thinks about? Hmmmmmm....he's kinda introverted. The quiet ones tend to be into the fun stuff.
I guess I'll have to sit him down and have the what do you want talk. I'm terrified of making him my rebound.
I have learned that having a cohabiting former lover give you dating advice is incredibly creepy; especially when the ex says he misses f'ing you and didn't mean to begin to refer to you as his ex six years ago after spending the day with his mommy at a funeral.
That's not what pissed me off. He called me Mrs. Erikson. Erikson is the name of my first love.
Apparently, his cousin sat at the funeral and told him all of those times she caught me....uh....being attentive to my old friend when I was too young to know what to do with a rigid young man. If I had known then what I know now...I'd have had the fun cure to my weight loss issue. I wish that I had known that a good man could easily replace my home gym and my protein shakes.
Sigh.....she's always been a gossip monger. Did I tell you she once said I had sex with the entire football team?
That was news to my friends on said football team. They dated the hot cheerleaders. Saying that I touched them would have ruined their relationships.
Who gossips about old news at a funeral?
As I write that, I shudder (and not in a good way).
My ex wants a 320th chance at me.
I can't bring myself to do that. He broke my heart...over and over again.
What is that saying?
Hurt me once, shame on you.
Hurt me twice, shame on me.
Hurt me 301 times, I become a masochist.
I can't....
I have learned what it feels like to want to smack yourself in the head with a heavy 70's era bass so you can do enough damage to forget a certain creepy experience. The man giving me advice is the very last person that I want to hear from.
I have also realized that I am pretty flippin' angry at men for lying to me. I have learned that this leads to a lack of trust in men. It leads to putting up walls and ends up hurting other people I care deeply for.
I have learned that if a family lies to you about a death, call the county coroner because he'll tell you the truth. My in-laws didn't lie about his death but they are playing games with the information about the funeral. My poor ex is freaking out. They called wanting me to relay information about the death, I did. He called and asked that they relay information about the funeral, they have refused to return his call.
I know that game well. They will fail to call and claim that they did. Then I'll get blamed for not relaying the information. I've been through that before. It's led to violence. They're setting me up. I don't like it.
They didn't even pay for an obituary. I would have. I tried to contact the mortuary, nothing is scheduled. I did my best to stop any future abuse.
His family probably doesn't want me attending the funeral. I won't. Last time we all attended a funeral for a childhood friend of mine, my ex's uncle threatened me. They also called me to tell me that they found out where I worked. Then, things started going missing from the waiting room and some guy started coming around holding my picture and hassling my colleagues. I don't want to have a darn thing to do with these people.
Funerals in that family are trouble. I mean, I can't afford the psychotherapy to heal those disruptions those morons cause while paying tribute to lost family members. Knowing that they are prone to calling the police, I'd probably need to save up money for bail.
I'm trying to get away from them.
They're not helping.
I have learned that I have got to run away from any man whose family calls all the shots in your relationship and tries to make you feel guilty for not playing their narcissistic tune.
I have also learned that there is a game afoot. He's trying to make it impossible to divorce by messing around with the house and the money. I think he's wanting to live the experience of being a victim, of being cheated on and of being left.
He won't answer the questions I've been asking...do you want custody of the kids? do you want the house?
He wants the kids to live in this house but he wants me to stay here to help with the kids because he works such crazy hours.
That is not going to work...
I'm trying....
I've just got to get away...
Yikes.
Love ya,
S.
P.S. It did dawn on me that there is one way that I can force him to sign the divorce papers. The next time I find he or his ilk following me, I'm going to find some guy willing to play a game.
This is easy because I always have males accompany me in public. I'm going to ask a man to go behind a glass window with me and act out the dirty deed. All the stalker and his proxies need to see is see my O face in a window.
If you want to see my O face, show me a pink rose or something in lime green. It was a hypnotic suggestion put together when some guy couldn't do it for me.
Maybe I'll go out and find a peridot or something to wear. One glance and my stalker(s) will gasp.
If the stalker wants a show....I'll give him one.
The first person to try to blackmail me will get arrested. As a bonus, he won't want to be married to a "slut". If he thinks I'm tainted, he'll have to let me go.
It's fun living in a no-fault state.
If I'm going to go out, I may as well have fun.