Strike three

Once upon a shitty time I caught my now ex-husband cheating on me.

Then one day I woke up and realized it was the best thing that ever happened to me. Now I’m living in paradise, or south Florida to some, and spending my days on the beach watching baby sea turtles makes their way to the water.

God sure granted me with a great “new beginning” with a job a love and fantastic new friends.

Dating on the other hand… Oh boy.

I had two dates last week. One with a 33 year old with a steady job and decent looks. We had a lot in common so I gave it a shot. Dinner was OK. I had a glass of wine — because, let’s be real here I needed one to get through the awkward encounters of a first date.

He did not drink because it turns out he got a DUI a few years ago. Strike one.

He tried to school me on the local happenings in our area until I finally pulled the “dude, I work at the local newspaper, I know these things” card.

After dinner I decided he wasn’t crazy and hopped into his huge truck. Dude wasn’t a big dude so clearly he is making up for something with his truck. We ended up at the beach to check out the stars. Grossly romantic right? Barf.

Get this though… We parked and he said he had to pee. There was no bathroom so HE PEED NEXT TO HIS TRUCK!!

I thought he was kidding until I actually heard him pee then saw the stream running down the sand. WHO DOES THAT!! He went straight to strike three after that one. I had to play it cool because he drove and my goal was to make it through the evening and back to my car alive.

What happened to date etiquette???

The other date was so unentertaining that it’s not even worth mentioning. I do however have a date with a new guy this Saturday. He is 36 which is about as old as I would go. He is attractive and has his life together!! C’mon world, I’m not asking for too much here, just an attractive, well educated man who has his life together!

Until next time …


Anyone seen my head?

It’s off spinning somewhere.

I can’t believe it’s already half way through July and all I have to show for it is a nice tan and an empty bank account. I’ve got zero money to waste at the grocery store so I’m living off of cheap produce from the farmers market behind my house. I guess losing ten pounds won’t be so hard after all. Watermelon anyone?

Things could be worse though right? I could be living in a crappy townhouse with my crappy ex-husband.

You guys, I made it six months without him SIX MONTHS!! Exactly six months ago yesterday, I caught fuck face (that’s his name in my phone) telling another woman that he loved her over the phone. Can we please relive the moment that I punched that POS in the face?

Thank you!

In other news, it’s been exactly three months since I left Colorado for Florida. Best thing I ever did!

My sister who is almost 16 spent last week visiting me. I took a few days off of work and we explored my new home. This included kayaking out to a sunken ship and free diving down to see it. The thing sat in only 15 feet of water so nothing too crazy but the experience was amazing! My sister on the other hand thought I was bat shit crazy. She was too afraid of sharks, and God only knows what else was in that water, to do any exploring at all. We also kayaked through a river with alligators and I attempted to get her to paddleboard in the Indian River Lagoon with manatees but she was “totally over my weird obsession with adventure.”



Between her visit, work and the need I feel to get back into dating whole living off of produce (can someone get me a fucking burger please?) and spending my free time at the (free!) beach my head is elsewhere. Oh, there are plenty of updates on Mr. L, fuck face and possible dating ventures happening soon but that will have to wait till my next post.

Excuse me while I go eat some carrots.

Vodka blues

I made a poor choice last night.

I had three beers and three shots.

My rowdy neighbors encouraged it. And what happens when I drink too much? I spill the beans about my life. They now know about the muffins and all my other issues with Mr. L. Including this new issue which, for the sake of Mr. L, they took my phone away from me so I wouldn’t say anything stupid and rather take my anger out on a bottle of vodka.

Monday night Mr. L sent me a text pretty late at night asking if I was up and if he could call. Of course I said yes. I’m a lover, guys, not a fighter. He informed me that when he goes to Colorado for three weeks, he left this morning, he is going to look for work.

Awesome, the first guy I actually like since having been with fuck face wants to move TO WHERE I JUST CAME FROM. Awesome.

He was afraid of losing what we have because “I’m so amazing” (well we already knew that didn’t we? Ha!)

I played nice and encouraged him to do what he feels he needs to do, I’m a firm believer in not living in the same place your whole life. I said I didn’t know what would happen between us. Obviously I won’t do long distance so more than likely we are done. But for now I’ll enjoy the companionship and the sex (when he returns) and look forward to the dates my neighbors want to set me up on.

Right now? I’m still in bed, nursing a hangover. Awesome.

Tears and ice cream

I cried last night for the first time since I’ve moved here which was 10 weeks ago.

You guys, that’s a serious record. So either I’m dead inside or I’m truly happy. 

I don’t know why I cried — but it was one of those “I’m all alone, I just ate way too much ice cream, is anybody in this world thinking about me?” moments. 

I may be happy but I never said I wasn’t crazy.

If there is anything I’m good at, it’s pushing people away. Case in point: Mr. L wanted me to come over last night — but the 45 minute drive and “I’m freaking out because I may actually like you” thoughts kicked in and sent me to hibernate under a blanket with ice cream and hide from the world — especially him.

I should probably add that he is leaving for three weeks to hang out in Colorado, you know my “home” which really just makes me home sick, don’t ask me why.

I should also mention that he wants to move there. I get it, he has lived here his whole life and you should never live in the same place your whole life.

So, this will “make or break” whatever non-relationship, lots-of-sex “dating” thing we are doing. He may come back and say “never mind, I don’t want to move.” or he may say, “I’m out, sorry babe Colorado is calling.”

Insert emotional yet inspirational paragraph here.

Actually, just get me some more fucking ice cream please. 


When muffins lead to a meltdown

Seriously, blueberry muffins.
Here’s what happened: Mr. L came over Friday night to stay the night. I thought it would be fun to make blueberry muffins the next morning for breakfast. All was going well and we even shared raw batter before baking the muffins. I pulled them out when they were perfect and immediately put four (they were rather small) on a plate for him. Why four? Because fuck face used to always eat four when we would make them almost every weekend.

Mr. L’s reaction to my enormous serving was to say he only wanted two.

When I realized what I had done it put me into a downward spiral of man hating that led to an anxiety attack and me going borderline ballistic in front of the new guy I’m dating. And by ballistic I mean completely silent while fighting and emotional internal battle of not letting this great new guy see how crazy I can be.

What the fuck? They are just muffins. But I felt the need to chuck the muffins through the wall. Not because he only wanted two, because normal human beings only want two. It had nothing to do with him and it had everything to do with piece of shit of an ex-husband and how everywhere I look there is a memory that reminds me of him.

I had two muffins, Mr. L had two muffins and I couldn’t deal with the rest of the muffins so much that I wrapped them all up and took them to my neighbor.

Yes, I know I’m crazy.

Fucking muffins.


A mess of a weekend

It’s Monday morning and I’m laying on my crappy futon nursing a hangover because last night I decided to drink four of those bad boys shown above. Bad idea.

Luckily, I don’t work until 2 p.m. today. I have no plans to leave this futon until I absolutely have to shower off the smell of stale beer at 1 p.m.

I made a mess of this weekend.

Really my weekend started Thursday night because I have Fridays off. I stopped and bought three bottles of wine on the way home because it was one of those kind of weeks. My neighbor turned FWB turned neighbor wanted to hang out. He’s a teacher and is off for the summer. I say turned neighbor again because he dumped me as FWB. How sad is that? Anyway we’ve hung out several times as just friends so it wasn’t odd to do it again. Fast forward three hours and I had consumed an entire bottle of wine and was fighting his hands off of me. He desperately wanted his FWB status back. He was denied.

Miraculously, I woke up without a hangover and managed to hit the gym then go to the beach with said ex FWB. We lounged and read our books. It was nice to hang with a friend. He kept his hands off of me all day thank God.

I then had a date. Don’t ask me why. I’m perfectly content with Mr. L. More than content, I’m happy with him and our non-relationship relationship.

The date was terrible. The guy was boring and informed me he wasn’t into sports. Red flag number one. I was his first date post divorce. I was fine with being his dating ice breaker but things got weird when we ran into his friends who knew about me and were dying to meet me. Awkward. I slammed three glasses of wine and watched this beautiful sunset while he talked about himself for two hours.

Again, no hangover Saturday! I went to my standup paddleboard yoga class and spent my morning bent over in a bathing suit, ass fully hanging out while a number of people drove by on boats. And yes I pay for this class. I feel like the people driving by should be paying me.

After yoga I spent the rest of the day at the beach with my neighbors. Ex FWB and J. J is young, 23. Nice kid though and I’ve been tagging along with those two and J’s sister and her family. I like her a lot so I’m finally making a female friend! I saw her again yesterday at J’s World Cup party where I decided to teach everyone King’s Cup (who doesn’t know that game to begin with?) and drink nearly 100 ounces of beer. I partly blame Mr. L, he made a few comments that annoyed me and being the drunk emotional mess I can be I drank more and opened my big mouth. Then passed out mid text while trying to explain that I’m a tom boy. Always have been and always will be and if he doesn’t like that fact that I like wearing gym shorts and T-shirts while I’m hanging out he needs to get over it. How that conversation even came about I’m not sure. I woke up at 4 a.m. to a full bladder, dry mouth and all around hot mess of a woman (and I wonder why I’m single) I wrote him back and apologized for being a drunk mess. Did I mention he is in a different country right now? We messaged this morning, all is good and we agreed we like how things are going, he said we’ve both been through tragedy in the last six months so it’s not smart to put pressure on us but he doesn’t want to see anyone else and hopes I don’t either. Ladies am I blind and this statement should actually make me run? It doesn’t though because I don’t want to be someone’s girlfriend. My divorce has been finalized for about five days. It’s way too soon to jump into something else.

Here’s to not being a drunken hot mess next weekend.

- End Rant -

D is for Divorce

My phone rang this morning. I looked down and Fuck Face was calling.

If you haven’t guessed, that’s my ex-husband. The wonderful guy who cheated on me eight months into our marriage.

With anger (and a “hot” voice”) I answered. He called to tell me our divorce was finalized today. My answer was something along the lines of “cool.”

What else do I say to that? He told me I can expect paperwork in the mail soon. Then, of course, I asked about money because he owns me A LOT.

He said he is giving me what he can but his brand new truck (which he bought exactly four days after I moved out) was severely damaged from hail including a shattered windshield. 

I laughed accidentally then silently thanked Karma, she’s my best friend right now.

We got off the phone then he forwarded a voice mail from the courthouse confirming the delightful news. 

I asked him if he was happy the divorce was final. He said “I’m happy I have one less thing to worry about.” Then he asked if I was happy. 

You guys, this was my one chance to rub in the fact that I am the happiest I’ve ever been and I am so thankful that he did what he did because my new life? It’s amazing.

With poise, I said “I’m doing really well. I love my job. I’ve made a lot of new friends and I live by the beach. Today is bittersweet, but in the grand scheme of things, I’m very happy.”

What do you think? Good response?

His response and I SHIT YOU NOT: “Good, that makes me happy. I am really sorry about everything but I think in the end it was better for both of us. I do think about you a lot though.”


He thinks about me? I’m sorry, maybe he should have been thinking about me on our family vacation while he was playing golf with MY FAMILY all the while texting another woman he “was falling in love with.” What a fuck.

He thinks about me… what a joke. I don’t think about him, because when I do I want to stab someone.

I asked about his health, he was diagnosed with M.S. a week after I caught him cheating. Tough week for that guy, eh?

And we left the text conversations with well wishes and a reminder that I’ll be on his ass about money.

The rest of the day I spent in a weird funk. Happy, sad, mad, excited. Talking to him and knowing everything is done brought up a lot of bad emotions. I’m still angry that he did this to me. Why would he put me through so much shit just to throw it all away in the lowest most disgusting way?

I’m excited for my future. I’m seeing a great guy and I live by the beach! I love my job and have made friends.

What’s he doing? Living in his brother’s shitty basement with a fucked up car and a nasty disease.

Karma, thank you.