Archive for October, 2005
This evening, I went to dinner with my best bud, Jean Luc, and his precocious five and three-quarters year old daughter, Faithie. Jean Luc’s wife, the always fabulous, Maria, couldn’t join us for dinner. She was working late, then stuck in traffic. We ordered and ate without her.
In a quiet moment after dinner, Faithie asked me, “Flo, when are you going to have a baby?”
“Whoa!” I exclaimed, “Where did that come from?” Faithie howled in laughter. I couldn’t help but chuckle, too.
Its funny that she would ask me that question. I’ve been wondering the same thing for years now. In fact, my desire to have children led me on this path of separation, and divorce from my soon to be ex-husband, Endicott.
When we married in January 2000, one of our goals was to start a family. When all was well between us, keeping track of my ovulation and planning for our future as parents were all-consuming goals. Every month we didn’t conceive was a disappointment, but we got over it and continued trying.
I know this will sound funny (sad, not funny ha-ha), but as our marriage crumbled, I didn’t lose interest in having a child. If anything it became more important to me. I might not have been able to maintain a healthy and happy marriage, but I was convinced I would be a fantastic mother. Endicott would step up and give me the baby I wanted, and the rest would sort itself out. If our marriage didn’t survive, at least I would have the child I always wanted, and Endicott, being the good, responsible man he was, would make sure our baby was well cared for.
(Yes, I’m rolling my eyes, too, just remembering how delusional I was! Delusional, naive — same difference!)
I can’t pinpoint the exact day it happened, but at some point a few years ago, our marriage counselor told us we should absolutely not have a child together. The state of our marriage was not a suitable environment for raising children. She actually said that our family life wouldn’t have been any better than the manner in which Endicott was raised. Because his family was ‘passionate’ (read intense and sometimes violent), that assessment hurt me so much. It really clarified the state of our disfunctional relationship. The fact that Endicott dismissed our counselor’s warning started a series of questions that I still can’t answer.
How could he ignore what she said? Would he purposely put some innocent person through a hellish childhood like the one he endured? If so, what is WRONG with him? Is he just selfish? Doesn’t he see how bad things are between us?
As time passed, it became clear to me that whenever there was a problem between us, Endicott’s behavior struck me the same way. I thought, ‘What is WRONG with him? Is he selfish or just plain crazy?’ Believe me, if you find yourself thinking that on a regular basis, your relationship might be in serious trouble!
After all those years with Endicott, I had nothing to show for it. I had no children, almost nothing in the way of assets and (here’s the worst part) I wasted precious years with that man…but that’s a very ‘the glass is half empty’ viewpoint.
The positive way of looking at it is that we had four good years together. I’ve grown a lot through this experience, so now personal goals are clearer than ever before. I want a family of my own — and I don’t mind waiting for the right person and the right circumstances. If anything, I know how bad things can get when one settles for the wrong person and the wrong circumstances.
I thought about these things for awhile after dinner. I always went back to something else Faithie said tonight. “I’m kinda like your daughter.” I smiled and thought, “Yes, you kinda are, Faithie. ”
Knowing her since she was a baby has given me a taste of what parenthood can be like. While I’m only Aunt Flo, I feel so proud and protective of her. I want good, happy experiences for her. When bad things happen, I want to guide her through them and get her back on track.
My favorite thing Jean Luc has ever said is about her. He says he loves her for the amazing little person she is. He can’t wait to see the amazing adult she will become. I can’t wait either.
I’m pretty good as Aunt Flo. Faithie gives me hope that (one day) I’ll be pretty good as Mommy Flo, too…
October 27th, 2005
I received the following email from a (concerned?) reader:
I think all of your readers want to know if your new friend knows that you provide somewhat private information (aka hints) on your website. What a great way to steer someone in the direction that you would like them to go, particularly if it is too difficult or uncomfortable to discuss your intentions in person because there is an elephant in the room. If he knows about the website and is not steered by your hints, then that is telling you something.
My best bud, Jean Luc, agrees with you. He said, “What a gift that is — to know exactly how someone feels about you by reading it online!” Sounds like Jean Luc could totally appreciate someone gushing about him in public.
I can’t even guess how my new friend will feel about these posts. I purposely have not told him about them. In the beginning, they were supposed to be a one, maybe two time event. They, like my crush, sort of snowballed into this intense experience. Now that this is such a large part of my blog, I’m a little afraid of bringing it to his attention! At best, he may feel a little overwhelmed. At worst…oh, what have I done?!
For these reasons, I planned to quit posting about my new crush and move onto other topics. But then I got this email, and I knew I owe my friend, and my (twenty) readers an explanation…
Honestly, I don’t know if he reads my blog. He did once, but immediately closed the browser because my site was too personal. He encouraged my writings, but in the form of a journal, something private just for me. That should be a big hint that he probably won’t appreciate any of my posts that include him or our interactions…Duh!
It may be hard to believe, but I did consider my new friend’s feelings before I began writing this series of posts. I hope that is apparent in that I didn’t give his name, his profession, his place of residence or any of the deeply personal discussions we’ve shared. (Yes, I do keep some things for myself!)
My intention for this site has always been to honestly chronicle my experiences as a separated, then divorced woman. That means documenting every step I take away from my married life. From moving out of the home Endicott and I shared for almost eight years, to filing for divorce, and now — the scariest step of all — dating for the first time in nine years, I address it all.
For the last two weeks, I’ve been writing about the first crush I’ve had since meeting my husband back in 1996. It has been such a long time since I have liked anyone that I completely forgot how exciting and unnerving it can be. I check my email a half dozen times a day, hoping for some small morsel from that special person. When I do hear from him, it is like a high. I feel so good in that moment, I crave more of his time and attention.
I realize that describing the highs and lows of my first post-separation crush could be embarrassing later on. Just because I feel this way, doesn’t mean I should admit it. Chances are that things won’t end well between us — I’ll meet someone else, he’ll meet someone else, he’ll feel betrayed by my posts, all of the above! — and the whole crush will die a horrible death. If this happens, I’ll feel like a complete idiot (idiotexwife.com, anyone?) AND I’ll be stuck with several weeks of posts chronicling every embarrassing moment. Yes, I’m aware of the possibilites — and I’m doing it anyway!
I’m writing about this because I know for a fact that I’m not the only separated woman feeling this way. When I first heard someone else exclaim, “That’s exactly how I feel!” I was relieved. It was comforting to know these are normal feelings. (Yea, I’m not crazy!) If I could give another separated or divorced woman that same relief, then the risk of humiliation was worth it.
Let’s just hope my friend sees these posts as a gift…
Hope springs eternal,
October 24th, 2005
For the last six months, my cell phone’s voicemail has given me the same warning, “Your mailbox is almost full.” Anyone want to guess why that is?
My soon to be ex-husband, Endicott, left long, rambling messages on my voicemail after every one of our huge fights…You’re probably wondering if I saved them, right? Damn right I saved them!
I planned to upload them to my computer, then post them here. In my more angry moments, I also considered burning them to disc and sending them out as Christmas presents. Relax, I’m not actually going to do that. I understand that’s not exactly in line with the spirit of Christmas!
From time to time, I listen to his rants. I usually do it to gauge my level of anger/frustration with Endicott. If I can make it through a couple of his condescending messages, I know I’m okay. If I’m instantly pissed off (and I generally am after one of his phone calls or emails), I’ll know its time to work on letting go of my anger. Again…This seems to be an ongoing project. I’m not sure I’m having much success with it!
I can’t speak to him for more than a minute before he says something that takes me back to some old argument that I never really let go. Or he’ll try to blame/shame me into doing something he wants. Either way, I don’t respond well to him. I yell at him, then pull away. It usually ends with me shrieking, “Don’t ever call me again!”
I know he will always push my buttons. That’s just what he does — he can’t stop himself. The hard part is not letting it get to me.
I understand that I choose to get upset. I know I can end my anxiety and anger at any time by deciding to let it go. Let go of the ugly, bitter resentment that seems to have hold over my heart. It’s all well and good to know what I need to do to get over Endicott and our suck-ass marriage, but am I ready to do it?
Yesterday, I took the big step of clearing out my cell phone voicemail. Sure, I cursed Endicott a little as I played his countless messages. The important part was deleting them.
I finally cleared out all the old messages that clogged up my mailbox, leaving plenty of room for new messages from new friends. Maybe even a new boyfriend…one day.
October 23rd, 2005
It was around 9pm Thursday night when I decided to give up.
I walked around the house blowing out candles. There must have been dozens of them spread across the front room, trailing out into the back patio.
Standing out back, I watched the fog roll in over the towering trees. There was a soft glow peaking out from the hedges that line the brick wall at the end of the property. The normally stunning view (from downtown LA to the Pacific Ocean) was completely blocked out. You wouldn’t know you were half a mile up the hills above the Sunset Strip.
I walked into the guest bedroom, pulling out my cream colored pajamas, and long, red robe. They were last year’s clearance rack purchase from Tar-schay (Target, y’all). Definitely not for entertaining. They’re like a big, warm hug. After being stood up again, I could use all the comfort I could get. I slipped into them and out of my disappointment.
My new friend phoned around 6pm to invite me out for a drink. I’d like that, I said, but I wasn’t planning on leaving the house tonight. I promised to feed my friend’s dog, then give him his medication. This diabetic dog was on a strict schedule — and a promise is a promise… Should you come by here? Sure, that would be fine. See you soon…
Three hours later there was no knock at the door, no phone call, and no sign that either would happen tonight.
My new friend phoned a few days earlier, too. We talked about getting together Wednesday evening. He promised to call me Wednesday morning to finalize our plans. I waited until around 6pm before giving up and walking to Mel’s Diner on Ventura Boulevard for dinner.
When I checked my email that evening, there was a message from him.
Wed, 19 Oct 2005, 18:00:20:
I had a curious day… I think it is too late now for this evening, my apologies… Perhaps the weekend is best, if that is still possible… I am sorry to have been so late in writing, I will call later to make amends, or perhaps to make you laugh.
Around 9:30pm Thursday night, I turned out the lights in most of the house, locked the front gate, then sat down to have a cup of tea before heading to bed. That’s when my cell phone rang.
I didn’t think you were coming by tonight…Well, I’m in my pajamas right now…No, they’re not sexy! But they’re comfy and warm…Okay, I’ll keep them on…See you when you get here.
As he walked into the house, I wanted to run over to him, but I didn’t. I was unsure of myself. I wasn’t sure of what I wanted — from him, with him, for him. He walked to me, embraced me with a soft, light touch. His hands slid down to my hips, they lingered there for a moment. We pulled away slowly and walked into another part of the house.
There was this awkward dance as we moved from room to room. We engaged in small talk and the passing of props.
‘Would you like a drink?’
‘How was your meeting?’
‘Could you open this bottle?’
‘Here’s your glass.’
Anything to avoid talking about the big freakin’ elephant in the room: there’s something going on between us. Hell if I know what it is — or what to do about it.
I introduced him to an online music service to which I subscribe. He sat in front of the computer monitor, I sat five feet away to his right. Sure, I wanted to lean against him, rest my head on his shoulder. But I didn’t do that. Instead, I stayed put. I looked into his eyes, soaking in everything he said, serious or not. I smiled to myself as he quietly sang along to songs. Mostly, ‘cuz I knew those songs by heart and sang along, too.
Scrolling down the list of songs was like a walk down memory lane for me. Love song, breakup song, make up song, Bob Dylan can do them all. It took a minute before I found a song for my new friend.
I don’t want to fake you out,
Take or shake or forsake you out,
I ain’t lookin’ for you to feel like me,
See like me or be like me.
All I really want to do
Is, baby, be friends with you.
I hardly know him…but that will change.
October 21st, 2005
I spoke to my friend, Lulu, on Monday. She asked a question that I’m sure is shared (or soon will be shared) by my twenty regular readers.
“So Flo, have you been having sex with your ‘new friend’ all week?”
“I wish.” I said under my breath. “No. No, I have not.”
Lulu knows all about my new friend. He’s her new friend, too. Lulu took me to the party where we met him. We both email him, many times cc:ing each other. We adore him. The only difference between us: she didn’t invite him back to her apartment. I did.
I told her about my unanswered email sent days before my unanswered call. “Definitely don’t call him again,” she said.
I totally agreed with her. No more calls or emails. I like him, but I’m not some freaky stalker. I can take a hint! Really!
So imagine my surprise when I turned on my phone and received the following message on my voicemail:
Hello there. You left a message and I just got it. I hadn’t got it off this machine, I’m sorry. So, I don’t think it was for today. Its a pity…(unintelligable words)..to make you laugh…Anyway, I hope you’re well. I’m sorry I didn’t reply whenever you left it there. Give us a call sometime…Talk to you again. Bye.
Minutes after hearing that, I spoke to my best bud, Jean Luc. I made the mistake of telling him about the message from my ‘new friend.’
He was uncharacteristically quiet. My guess is that having his five year old daughter, Faithie, in the room didn’t allow him to work ‘blue,’ the way he normally would. He waited until she was out of the room to call back and share his thoughts on the matter. I missed the call, but here’s what he said:
Hey, just calling to find out if your ‘new friend’ is gonna come over and give you the meat tonight. Talk to you later. Bye.
He’s so gross sometimes…But truthfully, I was wondering the same thing.
October 19th, 2005
Advise from my boss:
Hey, listen Flo, I heard about your website. I hope you don’t mind me saying this, ‘cuz its really none of my business: you should just forget about it. Let it go. You can’t let it bother you.
You’re young. Go out and have a good time. Go on some dates, spend time with some people, have a little fun and live your life.
Have you ever seen the movie, “A Bronx Tale,”? Its Robert De Niro and Chaz Palmentari. In the movie a guy is cheated out of twenty bucks. He goes to the mafia boss, Chaz Palmentari, and tells him what happened. The boss doesn’t say he’ll whack the guy like you expect. He says, ‘You’re lucky. For twenty bucks, you found out the guy is an a-hole.”
And that can apply to you. You found out it didn’t work. Now let it go and move on.
Thank you for saying that, Mr. B. I appreciate the advise.
I’m almost there,
October 18th, 2005
Endicott, my soon to be ex-husband, reads my posts, too.
Sent: Sun, 16 Oct 2005 15:39:20 -0400
You deserve to find joy and hapiness. You are a beautiful person. Be
happy and be safe.
October 17th, 2005
I spoke to my best bud, Jean Luc, this morning. We talked about our big plans for the day. “That’s right, you’re going on your big date tonight. Have a good time.”
“Dude, I am NOT going on a date — its just dinner with Dennis.”
Jean Luc remembers my friend, Dennis. Do you? I met Dennis in Las Vegas last April. Check out my, “Take me out,” post from April 22, 2005, for a quick refresher.
We planned to meet at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art (LACMA) this afternoon. I arrived fifteen minutes early, and sat in the open cafe area. Actually, squirmed was more like it.
I was a little nervous, but it had nothing to do with seeing Dennis again. I was uncomfortable about being in my old neighborhood again. I was worried I’d run into Endicott.
Mid-Wilshire is where I lived with Endicott for over seven and a half years. Its hard to drive down any street or stand at a crosswalk anywhere near Wilshire Boulevard without thinking about the years we were married, and all the time we spent there.
As I parked and walked on the grounds of LACMA, I scanned the streets looking for Endicott. No, I don’t think he’s a stalker. And, no, I don’t want him to stalk me. I’m just a big believer in Murphy’s Law. You know that old adage; anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.
I imagined walking down the street, just as Endicott drives by. He’d honk his horn, pull over his car, follow me down the street, then pester me with questions…Ugh.
Finally, I did the only thing that I knew would calm me down: I shopped the LACMA gift shop. Two sets of witty, snarky Christmas cards later, I felt much better! As I walked out the double doors back into the main plaza area, I saw Dennis scanning the area looking for me. That helped calm me down, too.
The last time Dennis was in town, we saw posters for the upcoming King Tut tour. We agreed to see it together on his next business trip. Five months later, Dennis is back and we have tickets. Unfortunately, a power outage in the area shut down the exhibit and much of Wilshire Boulevard. That kind of killed our plans.
On the drive home, I got a phone call from Jean Luc. “You rang, dude?” I asked. “Not me,” he said. Just then, his precocious five year old daughter, Faithie, spoke into the phone, “Hi Flo!” A giant smile came across my face.
Flo: Hi Faithie! How are you?
Faithie: Flo, I’m on a date, too!
She laughed and laughed like that was the funniest thing ever. Her parents chuckled in the background.
Flo: I wasn’t on a date, Faithie. But I’m glad to hear you are! Who are you out with?
Faithie: My boyfriend. He’s in the (kindergarden) classroom next to mine. He’s the same age as me, 5 and 3/4.
Flo: Excellent! Well, have a good time on your date, Faithie. Goodnight!
Goodnight to you, too,
October 16th, 2005
After leaving that phone message on my new friend’s cell last night, I hoped for a return call today. Didn’t hear a thing from him via celly or email.
I walked into work today feeling like a complete idiot. Even so, I tried really, really hard not to beat myself up. Its okay to ask someone out. Its okay to say you enjoy spending time together. And — this is the hard part — its okay if the person doesn’t reciprocate. Maybe he had other plans. Maybe he didn’t get my message. Maybe a plane crashed into the nearest cell tower and he’s walking around looking for a clear signal…Or maybe I really am nuts.
I mentioned my bold, sadie hawkins style phone call to a friend. She is a long time friend of my new friend (I should just give him a name and end this ‘new friend’ business, right?). She said he is locked up in a room finishing up a project. He probably won’t be let out for at least a week (I’m juggling three separate projects right now, so I can totally relate!).
“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” I said, “That explains it.”
Then again, if he doesn’t phone me in the next two weeks, I will KNOW it was rejection.
In the meantime, I’m going out tonight. I’m meeting up with a new friend, Jules. We want to play dress-up (she’s going for sexy; I’m going for cute — sexy’s little sister) and hit a few fun spots. First stop will be the Backstage Cafe in Beverly Hills. If we’re ambitious, we may hit the W Hotel for a quick drink.
Maybe we’ll see you there?
October 15th, 2005
Last Saturday (actually early Sunday morning), I spent some time getting to know a funny, charming man I met over the summer. When I write ‘getting to know,’ I really mean ‘making out.’
It’s been so long since I’ve been close to anyone, I freaked out. I kept my hands up ready to push him away at any moment. The more time we spent together, the harder it was to resist him. Its a good thing he had to be someplace early Sunday morning. If he stayed any longer, I sooooooooooooo would have given in to him. Ladies, this man has moves!
He sent me an email Monday afternoon.
…it was a very nice evening.
Yes, it was…but was it the first of many very nice evenings? Or just that one? Only one way to find out…
I sent him a email Wednesday about an article from the New Yorker magazine website. He told me about the story last Saturday, saved the article for me, but forgot it in his car. So when I finally read it online, I sent him a quick note commenting on the piece. It was a total BS email, an excuse to get him to write me back…He didn’t.
All this week, I was distracted thinking about my new friend; specifically, what a total chicken sh*t I was for declining his advances. Its not like I didn’t want to go there. I was just afraid. Of what? Hell if I know!
This afternoon, as I plugged away at one of my projects, I thought, “Why am I freaking out about this? Its not like he’s a total stranger. AND he’s a nice man. Really, I could sooooooooooo use the practice! Damn it, I’m going to call him!”
Of course, I didn’t do it right then and there. Instead, I decided to bounce the idea off of my best bud, Jean Luc. I left the following (paraphrased) message on his voicemail.
Hi Jean-Luc, it’s Flo. I’m calling because I need you to talk me off a ledge: I’m seriously thinking about calling my ‘new friend’ and asking him out tonight. I need to have sex like NOW and I think he might be willing to help me out…So anyway, when you get a chance, give me a call. Thanks! Bye!
Jean-Luc waited two flipping hours before returning my phone call. The first words out of his mouth were, “So let me get this straight: you want me to talk you out of calling this guy?”
Flo: Because if I do, I’ll probably sleep with him.
Jean-Luc: And that’s a bad thing?
Flo: Well…That would make me a big ol’ ho bag. And I don’t want to be a big ol’ ho bag. But, dude, I sooooooooooo need to get laid.
Jean-Luc: Yeah, I know you do. Listen, you’re 35 years old…
Flo: I’m 34.
Jean-Luc: Yeah, okay, you’re 34 years old. If you don’t do this now, you’ll be calling me when you’re 64 years old, asking, ‘Should I sleep with this guy?’
Flo: Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.
About a minute later, I called my new friend. I left a message on his voicemail; something like, ‘I’ve been working like a crazy person all week, wanted to be around someone who’ll make me laugh and thought of you, might see a movie tonight, maybe you can join me…blah, blah, blah…call me at blah, blah, blahdedy, blah.’
That was around 8pm. Probably too late to get any feedback tonight. At least that’s what I’m telling myself, so I don’t feel silly for chasing after someone who may not be interested in me.
I guess I’ll just wait and see what happens. What have I got to lose? Dignity, confidence, self-respect…
Take a chance,
October 14th, 2005
There seems to be a campaign in the works to get me a boyfriend… Campaign is a strong word, right? Maybe not strong enough — conspiracy is better.
It started last April when I went to a backyard BBQ where all the guests described their single male friends for me, then offered to contact them if I was interested. A week later, a married friend asked me to join her and her (very hot) single guy friend for a movie. We went to his house instead and hung out.
Sometime in the last month, the efforts have ramped up. I get a lot more phone calls like this:
“So and so is now available and wants to call you! He just broke up with his girlfriend. Isn’t that great?!”
“So and so is very nice guy, and cute — Zach cute (read: super hot Greek god cute!). He owns his own home in Brentwood, and lives there with a roomate. He’s finally ready to settle down and wants to meet someone nice.”
A week and a half ago, I agreed to an actual date at a friend’s home. It was disguised as ‘game night,’ but everyone there knew what was up.
(He was a very nice man; a professional photographer. He and my brother share the same first name. That was enough to freak me out. Can you imagine how creepy that could get?…Don’t make me draw you a picture, people!)
Last Friday, I was invited out for drinks with a big group of people. The single man in that group was bi-coastal. He lives primarily in New York, rents an apartment in San Francisco for the one week a month he is there.
He was attractive (yummy is more like it), but wasn’t interested in me. It didn’t help I was wearing my work clothes with a jean jacket on top…to the Bel Age hotel. Yikes.
While I didn’t ask for these matchmaking efforts, the experience has been interesting. I’m meeting new people, and visiting new places. Mostly, I enjoy knowing that I have caring people in my life who want me to be happy.
Truthfully, I cannot handle a relationship right now. Heck, I could barely handle being kissed for the first time in almost a year!
I guess for all my talk about wanting to move on with my life, I’m not ready…Although, I’ll totally try that kissing thing again.
October 13th, 2005
My mother left a message on my voicemail yesterday. She wanted a return call as soon as possible…”Uh, oh,” I thought, “I’m in trouble!”
When I finally spoke to her, Mom said Endicott, my soon to be ex-husband, asked her out to lunch. Again.
He does this from time to time. It usually happens after I yell at him, demanding he leave me alone. He waits a few days, takes my mom out for lunch, then spends the lunch hour fishing for information. As if buying her a burger is an even trade for info on me.
It starts out, ‘I’m worried about Flo. She’s so angry at me. I don’t know why she’s so angry. Is there something wrong with her? Have you seen her? Is she okay?’
Next he says, ‘What did I do that made her hate me? I’m not a bad person. All I ever did was love her.”
The more I cut him out of my life, the worse it gets. The last time he met up with her, Endicott burst into tears in the restaurant.
The whole situation makes my mother uncomfortable. (Duh!) She feels bad for him, and doesn’t want to hurt him any more than he is already hurt. She reluctantly meets him, then gently points out that Endicott and I are getting a divorce. Separation, anger, and a complete break in contact are all things that happen in a divorce. (Double duh!)
I understand that my mother is being kind and caring to Endicott. That consideration for his feelings is what makes her a good person, and a great mother to me. Unfortunately, that consideration is one-sided.
Does anyone really believe he gives one thought about my mom’s feelings? If he did, wouldn’t he notice her discomfort? Doesn’t he know its NOT okay to literally cry to her for help?
Endicott only thinks about what he wants (me) and how to get it (any way possible). Whinning, crying, lying, moping, pleading, begging, etc., etc., are all fair game for him.
Its not like a don’t have a heart, ladies. I’ve had mine stomped on, too. When it happened, I tried to reason with him, Mr. Heartbreaker. I went over everything he said, every promise and expectation. When none of that worked, and he still wanted out of our relationship, I accepted it. Mostly.
Sure, I waited for around for a few months, hoping he would change his mind. Even now, I wonder how I’d react if he ever came back into my life. Hmmmm…Guess some things never really end.
But here’s my point: I sucked it up. I didn’t beg/plead/cry for second/third/fourth chances. I didn’t contact his friends and family fishing for information. I kept my freakin’ dignity!
If Mr. Heartbreaker didn’t want me, that was his loss. So when he eventually complained about the girl he chose over me, I told him, “You made your bed, now lie in it, a-hole!”
That’s what I expect from Endicott: accept my decision, suck up the pain, and move on. If we somehow manage to stay friendly, and I eventually complain about my next lover/boyfriend/husband, he can tell me to go f**k myself.
Let me go,
October 12th, 2005
I got a message from Endicott, my soon to be ex-husband, on my voicemail Sunday afternoon @ 1:21pm.
“Hi Florence, it’s Endicott. Its Sunday afternoon. I’m mostly home today. I’m just running around to Goodwill — occassionally picking stuff up and taking it over there. But if you get a chance please give me a call, I’d appreciate it. Thank you…And it won’t be vindictive or anything bad. Okay? Thanks. Bye.”
Before I returned his called, I thought, “This better be good.”
The last time I spoke to Endicott, I told him not to call me anymore. Unless there is a medical emergeny that directly involves me, he should not use my number…Hey, it for his own good, not just mine.
For some reason, I let him push my buttons the way no one else can. Between the passive-aggressive bullshit and the constant reminders of how I have things so good, considering how I never, ever helped him with anything, I just blow up.
Half the time I can calm myself down. He can think what he wants to think, spread his version of ‘the truth,’ and none of it will bother me…But the other half of the time, I react the way I did Sunday afternoon when I returned his call. Two words, ladies: shrieking harpie.
There was no medical emergency. He phoned because he read my blog and was disappointed to read that I don’t believe he has changed. Or will ever change. He called me for my support. He wanted me to believe in him.
So, of course, I yelled at him.
I know, I know. But I honestly cannot believe him anymore. I used to — completely. Even though he never really believed in himself, and lied to me A LOT, I was always proud of him and loved him.
I’m not sure exactly when it happened, but at some point in the last two years, I realized that all the stupid crap we couldn’t work through in marriage counseling would never work out. No amount of advise would change the fact that we are incompatable. Counseling was just delaying the inevitable.
After that realization, I quickly moved out of the house in December 2004. And now, for the first time in over eight years, I’m ready to date and move on.
So with all this in mind, yes, I yelled at Endicott. I wish I could remember the exact exchange, but I was so busy being upset, I can’t really remember anything, except when Endicott said, “Something’s going on with you…but whatever.”
That one sentence stuck with me all day. Partly, I’m amazed he made the comment and let it go. But mostly, it’s memorable because he was right. Something was bothering me and I took it out on him.
But what was I supposed to say? The truth? He doesn’t want to hear me say, “I almost slept with someone last night. He hasn’t called me, so now I’m hurt.”
Actually, I was so freaked out by having someone new so close to me that nothing happened. In fact, we spent much of the time talking about divorce. It was really fun, because he was so funny, and engaging as he tugged at my blouse. He stopped sometimes to make some very clever points, then pulled me close to him again. In the end, nothing (much) happened. But the next morning when I woke up alone, I wanted it to have happened.
I want passion again. I’m not looking for my next boyfriend, or my next husband. I just want someone funny and nice, like my new friend, who’ll ease me back into…whatever.
PS Here’s the best part of all, Endicott’s supportive email…Why do I feel so bad about him being so nice?
Sent: Mon, 10 Oct 2005 13:23:34 -0400
I meant what I said and I hope you feel better.
Best Wishes for you Always,
October 11th, 2005
I get a couple of emails a week from friends asking why I’m not posting more often. I respond that I plan to write again very soon. Give me a couple of days, and I’ll get right on that. In my head, I think, “Oh, crap!” Truth is, I’m having a hard time writing precisely because I know my friends will read it.
My goal for this blog is to be totally honest. That is hard to do knowing someone’s feelings will be hurt. Some people will be more than hurt, most likely completely pissed off when they find out how much ‘editing’ (read: lying by omission) I do in real life. (Hey, everyone doesn’t get equal access to me, but that’ll be changing soon. Read on.)
Let’s not forget my mom reads these pages, too. My Mother loves me and trusts me. But I’m pretty sure she’d pick up the phone the second she reads anything slightly rated R — like that couple that tried to pick me up last month. And that’s the tame stuff, Mom!
Finally, I cannot forget my soon to be ex-husband, Endicott. This whole blog is like one giant kick in the teeth for him. He just doesn’t believe me when I say I’m not in love with him and will never return to our marriage. Endicott, it’s been almost a year now — this is not a phase!
Imagine how much it would suck for him when I finally start dating and document every moment here? He might want to stop reading these pages right now, because I’ll be doing just that any day now.
I’m finally ready to move on, friends — and I hope you join me.
PS If you have a question, comment or a bone to pick with yours truly, feel free to post a comment or send me an email at email@example.com.
October 10th, 2005
From: Endicott (the idiot in idiotexhusband.com)
Fri, 30 Sep 2005 2:27:40 PM Eastern Daylight Time
You know, I’ve accepted the fact that you don’t want to come back. But you should also know that I will always have feelings for you. You are a big part of my life. If I could go back and change things I would. There are many things I’m doing now that I should have done before. There are behaviors of mine you were absolutely right about. I know now that those behaviors were very distressing to you and I heart-fully apologize. I believe you always have had your best intentions and hopes for me, and I thank you for being there. I worked very hard to get out of my own way and sometimes without much success. I think of you often and I remember the good things between us while acknowledging that things could have been improved by me. A lot of my distress were my own fears and an inability to move forward, yet I feel I’m mostly over that. You were then and now a great person. I really appreciate that you put up with the worst part of me and I know that you loved me then and even now. But I also know that I have lost the chance of being with you. Pretty soon more things will be changing and really you’re at the root of that inspiration. I still feel concerned when I don’t hear from you. Maybe you are not up for any contact but send me a little note or give me a call so I know you are OK.
That was a nice ‘I was wrong to treat you that way,’ note. I don’t buy any of it for one second.
I cannot count how many times Endicott phoned me, contrite, only to turn angry and recant everything he said within minutes.
It starts off innocent enough, like the first sentence above, “You know, I’ve accepted the fact that you don’t want to come back.” When he gets me on the phone, he’ll say what he always says, “Did you try to give us a chance?”
Its all downhill after that.
Flo: I can’t believe you’re asking me that.
Endicott: Well…Did you?
Flo: Of course I did.
Endicott: Don’t you think you could have tried harder?
Flo: Tried harder? I don’t know HOW I could have tried harder!
Endicott: Well, it feels like you’ve given up on us.
Flo: Look, I tried as hard as I could. It just didn’t work out.
Endicott: I haven’t given up on us. But you obviously have.
Flo: Dude, I don’t want to do this anymore.
Flo: Okay, that’s enough. I don’t want talk about this anymore. It’s over!
Endicott: It’s over because you gave up on me. I would never give up on you, but you’ve given up on me.
Flo: That’s it. I can’t talk to you anymore. I’m hanging up.
Endicott: That’s just like you to give up on me.
That’s about the point where the shouting usually starts.
But I think those days are finally behind us. Mostly because I no longer care what Endicott thinks of or says about me. I know how I carried myself in the course of our marriage. That’s enough for me.
October 1st, 2005