About last night …

This morning I realized that I’ve regressed back to my college days.

After forcing my half-dressed self out of bed at 7:45 a.m., I consumed about half the medicine cabinet then tried to piece together what happened last night while I headed to volleyball.

On a side note, I’ve yet to go to volleyball without a hangover.

Here’s what happened:

I had plans to meet a doctor for drinks Friday evening. My roommate decided he should be called Grey’s Anatomy for obvious reasons.

Meanwhile I was also chatting with a guy who is in sports management for the local minor league baseball team.

We didn’t have concrete plans to meet so I focused on my doctor date.

He chose a restaurant on the water with a great view. He was handsome though quite full of himself. He was no McDreamy so I’m not sure his ego was justified.

We talked for two hours — well he did most of the talking — . Out of nowhere he asked for the check. He walked me to the car, gave me a hug and said he would “text” me.

And I was home by 9 p.m.

So what’s a girl to do when she actually has eyeliner, tight jeans and a bra on? We if it’s 9 p.m. on a Friday, she goes out with guy No. 2 .

Let’s call him baseball.

Here’s where it gets messy. I couldn’t drive because I was drinking my “home by 9 p.m.” sorrows with my roommate.

And it was my roommate’s bright idea to invite baseball to our place.

Flash forward 30 minutes, baseball is here and I’m another glass of Merlot down.

The two of them proceeded to talk baseball while I sat in a corner and drank.

Finally, roommate went to his room so baseball and I could chat. This was our first face-to-face meeting after all.

We were both a few drinks in so talking quickly turned to making out.

And eh, why not? I’m young and single. Why not make out with an almost complete stranger in my living room.

Then he stayed the night.

I warned you guys.

I’m officially back in college. And I have the messy house and empty bank account to prove it.

So baseball. We didn’t have sex (surprisingly). But there was a lot of kissing and touching then he left at 6 a.m. to go ref youth soccer.

It’s now Saturday. I’m curing my hangover and trying to figure out when on earth I became this person.

A year ago I was at home with my husband, in bed by 10. Now I spend my days frolicking on the beach and coming up with clever names for all the men in my phone. And by all I mean two. Doctor and baseball.

What do you guys think? My guess is I will never hear from Grey’s Anatomy. Which is OK, you can only listen to someone talk about themselves for so long.

And my other guess is baseball and I will be able to salvage nothing out of our slutty first meeting. Which we both agreed was not our best decision or first impression. He said “he just really wanted to meet me.”

When did I become a player.


An open letter to my ex-husband

Dear Fuck Face,

Yes, that is still your name in my phone and has been since the day I caught you telling Hillary you loved her. (Blame my best friend and a large bottle of Fireball for that one)

That day is a day I will remember for the rest of my life. Though what happened before I locked you out of the house and fell to me knees in overwhelming pain is a bit fuzzy.

That day was almost a year ago now.

Since then, I moved to a different state and started a new job. I’ve made new friends, been on dates, started seeing a therapist and realized how strong of a woman I am.

You on the other hand, have moved into your brother’s basement, lost your job and have chosen to be with Hillary.

And that’s OK.

Because without you, I’ve learned to laugh again. I’ve learned to respect myself. I’ve learned that taking care of myself is enough responsibility and I will never again be in a relationship with someone who

  1. Doesn’t have a bank account
  2. Leaves socks on the living room floor
  3. Lasts approximately 120 seconds in bed
  4. Hates, therefore rarely brushes his teeth
  5. Would ever, ever hurt his wife like you did

I could keep going. But I won’t

So, for now, I am not ready to forgive you for the hell you put me through. I’m not ready to be nice to you either.

But I would like to say thank you. Because without you doing what you did, I would have never had the courage to leave you. And I surely would not have had the courage to start over in a new state where I don’t know a single soul.

My life now is refreshing. It’s easy. I can go to the beach whenever I want. I take yoga classes, I’ve fallen in love with standup paddle boarding, I play volleyball every Saturday morning, and above, all I am not taking care of another grown human being. I am not worried about you, what you are doing, if our house is clean, if the dog is OK or if we have food for the week.

No. I am actually enjoying my life now.

So, enjoy that basement. And please tell Hillary that I hope she enjoys my sloppy seconds.

Your ex-wife

[Insert lyrics to Christina Aguilera’s “Fighter” here]

Mrs. Therapy part I

The first time I met my therapist, it took me about 93 seconds to start crying — and five wadded-up tissues.

The second time I met with her, I made it a whole four minutes.

This is progress people.

I had to start from the beginning. I had to explain why I have abandonment issues, why I’ve been numb inside for 10 months and why I feel like I am always waiting for something.

I explained that I was married for eight months to who I thought was the love of my life. I had been with the sweet, caring man for almost five years. And I explained how I woke up one day and realized it was all going to hell. He wasn’t sweet, or caring. I didn’t exist to him anymore. But never, never did I ever think I would walk out to our garage (as he was getting the golf clubs for us to hit balls) and catch him telling another woman he loved her over the phone.

Never did I think my heart would fall to the floor and shatter to pieces because the one person i vowed to spend the rest of my life with stuck a knife in my back.

And I never thought I would hit my husband.

And I really never thought I would get a divorce.

I relived every moment with my therapist. And I needed to. I’ve been numb for so long now. Keeping all the hurt, anger and sadness deep inside — somewhere where I cannot feel it.

Until now. I’m letting it out. I want to move on. I want to love again, trust again and find peace with what happened.

Session two I complained — a lot.

About how he was a day late in paying me. We are in debt over our beautiful wedding.

I’m worried about having a roommate.

I’m upset that I’ve lived in Florida for almost seven months and my mother has yet to visit.

I’m worried that I can’t seem to find the motivation to get out of bed in the morning to go to the gym.

Mrs. Therapy reassured me that I am doing great. She said in time I will find the motivation to work out. For now she wants me to get out of the house and just walk. Which I am, I like to walk on the beach at sunrise.

She said having a roommate will be good, especially because it’s someone I enjoy hanging out with.

And she said she thinks this blog is awesome and that not only am I helping myself (and meeting others going through similar situations) I may also be inspiring others — which is a crazy thought I know.

I’ve met some great people through this blog, some I talk to fairly regularly. And for those few of you, I’m thankful to have your support and blog friendship.

Tonight’s blog wasn’t funny, it wasn’t witty or full of my dating shenanigans (don’t worry I still have plenty). Rather, it’s about me being real, admitting that I am still hurting, that I’m seeing a therapist and that I am thankful for you, my readers and followers.


Cheers to anything but you

I had a girl’s night out Friday. We went to a local music fest to see county’s new boy Cole Swindell who I am unofficially in love with now. The night also involved getting high for the first time since the night I caught him cheating in January.

Let’s back up.

I was driving home the other day when I heard a new song about a breakup. I fell in love — with the song. Turns out, that song was Cole’s. The next day I was invited to the music fest by the girls at work. (This is a big deal, getting “in” with girls is a hard thing to do!) And Cole just happened to be playing.

Here’s the best part of the song:

But I’ll drink to a country song
To another long work week gone
And I’ll raise my glass to a long lost buddy I ain’t seen.
I might stay for one more round
Or I might close this place down
But don’t think for a second I’m out to drown your memory
Baby, you ain’t worth the whiskey.

Fortunately, I was only a stoned mess up until the concert. (I knew there was a reason I don’t smoke any more). I sobered up and went straight to the bar for my choice poison. A girl MUST double fist at a country concert.

And if it wasn’t already clear, fuck face (read: ex), you ain’t worth the whisky — or the beer or anything for that matter.

The H word

So this happened.

I met a nice guy through Match.com.

We exchanged texts for about two days. He was funny and nice and attractive according to his profile. But we both know that these profiles lie. These people are not as they seem.

It’s like a cruel mirage.

But that’s not the issue here.

This guy, we’ll call him Matt, made a joke about not having AIDS.

OK, funny I guess.

But it got worse. He then made a comment about herpes.

And this is what happened:


And this is why I’m still single.

P.S. Don’t judge me. There were two Matts from Match. Yes this is a new low. Welcome to dating in 2014.

Heavy bags

The last time I was at this airport was December 28, 2013.

I know because it was my husband’s birthday and we were heading home from a wonderful vacation.

Today, I stopped at the same Starbucks in the same terminal and walked by the cafe were I picked up a smoothie for him. One of his favorite things.

Little did I know, almost a year ago now, that during the entire vacation and even at the airport that day he was talking to her.

Yet for some fucking reason, today I missed him. I miss my travel buddy, the one who would hold my hand on the plane when the ride got bumpy, the one who would carry the heavy bags and always needed a snack before we boarded.

I saw a quote that’s pretty fitting in this situation.

“Just so we’re all clear, it’s okay to miss people you no longer want in your life.”

At times I miss him terribly. And at times I’d like nothing more than to see him in pain.

This airport is now my home airport. Not Denver. Not him.

I have a new life now.

I’m going to NYC to see my best friend. My family is flying in so I get to see them, too.

I can carry my own heavy bags.

My snack is an apple and green tea from Starbucks instead of the junk food he insisted on eating.

I’m blessed.

I’m fortunate.

I’m going to have an amazing weekend.



One and done

It didn’t take long at all.

I started chatting with a new guy because I apparently like putting myself through horrible conversations and situations.

This one lasted all of one message. (Photo is at the end of this post)

I was so offended I didn’t even bother responding.

There’s more bad news. Mr. L is back. We started talking again because we are both lonely beings in new worlds — more like in each other’s world. He moved to my hometown four months after I moved to his. I may be seeing him when he is in town for Thanksgiving.

I’m leaving for New York City tomorrow. Planning to see my very gay best friend who lives there and visit with family. It’ll be a nice escape from working so much!

I’ve officially been here for six months. Sometimes I can’t believe it’s been that long and other times I say that’s it?

Not to toot my own horn, but I think I’ve done beyond well moving to a place where I don’t know a single soul. I’m unbelievably happy considering what I went through in January.

I haven’t heard a peep from fuck face (ex-husband who cheated). So that’s been nice! He still pays me every month for that, uh, “wedding” we spent $10,000 on. Bad choices.

Oh and I got way too flirty with a neighbor the other night. Clearly alcohol was involved. I also chatted up a new guy I met during that same party. He asked for my number (though I think he was pressured into it by a mutual friend). Obviously I haven’t heard from him.

I really need this escape for a few days.

Until next time blog world ❤️