Happy Thanksgiving Loverlies

Ok, ok, I feel obligated to do a quick Thanksgiving post before it's time to head to my aunt and uncle's place for the traditional hoopla that our family calls the start of the holidays.
So what am I thankful for this year?  Let's start with the obvious.

• My liver survived another year
• Birth control
• The family
• The friends
• A roof over my head and food in my belly
• Good health

What else?

• I'm finally starting to grow up
• I have learned to figure out when I'm being mistreated before it's too late and put an end to it
• That my communication skills when it comes to relationships have improved immensely
• That I am anti-Black Friday shopping.  Fuck all of that nonsense

That about covers it for now.  Have a great Thanksgiving and try not to gorge yourselves too much today. *kisses*

We'll Call It A Hiccup

Okay so for a minute I thought the buzzard was trying to make his way back home.  I've determined that no, he isn't, and even if he was, there's no chance in hell I'd let him.  (The latter was always a definite.)  The other day we had breakfast and spent the entire afternoon together.  I had a hard time reading his thoughts or even his mood.  Still couldn't figure out what he wanted with me - if it was anything other than sex, which is always the case with him and something he wasn't going to get.
It's not always an easy lesson to learn that some things never change.  I ended up finding out a few days later what he was hiding from me, (I mean, it's not that hard - people talk,) and if I had known then what I know now, I never would have even given him the chance to be sitting across the table from me.
I wanted desperately to call him out on it in the meanest way possible.  But that's just not how I roll.  Instead, the other night, I went about it in a sneaky way, a way he would be responsive to.  Judging from our conversation, he confirmed the little tidbit that I already knew without coming out and saying it.  I've known the man for five years and his behavior has become pretty easy for me to predict.
Obviously this cycle seems never ending.  Whatever.  We all have our vices, and mine just happens to be a tattooed, middle aged, brick shithouse of a biker that found his way into my heart and doesn't seem to want to leave.
I realized something - he won't let me go.  I've let him go, I've walked away and stayed away.  He isn't capable of it.  He always comes back and I have no idea why.  If I l can eradicate him from my life and move on, why can't he?  I'll never know the answer because he won't come out and tell me what it is about me that keeps him holding on.  I mean, come on, it's not like I'm the best lover he's ever had, or even the prettiest one....well, maybe the prettiest...but that's no reason to hold on to something.  He won't give me the satisfaction of hearing what every girl wants to hear, the satisfaction of hearing the reasons why he can't let go, something along the lines of "I love you, I can't get you out of my head, you made my life better, you're beautiful, I'm addicted to you, you make me feel safe, I love your company, etc."  That kind of shit is too hard for him to say out loud.
Regardless, I erased the text messages and phone calls from the past few weeks.  Don't try to come back into my life only to have me discover you kicked one psycho out of your house and promptly let another one move in.  You really think I'm that stupid?  No wonder he didn't want to go home after breakfast that day.  If I had some piece of trash taking advantage of me and living in my home with her deadbeat son, I wouldn't want to go back there either.  All of those adages are applicable here - don't shit where you eat, you made your bed, now you have to lie in it...on and on.
I never put his number back into my contacts and it's not memorized.  (Thank goodness for these days of not having to memorize them because of the convenience of cell phones.)  So we'll call it a hiccup.  They happen, it's all in how we handle them, and this time I'm patting myself on the back for doing such a good job.

Don't Try To Do Your Christmas Shopping With A Major Hangover

A few weeks ago my girl friend and I decided to plan a weekend at the beach in order to do our Christmas shopping, and Rehoboth has more outlet stores than I can wrap my head around.  It just so happened that the weekend we chose was when the season-closing parties for The Rusty Rudder and The Starboard were going on.  Perfect!

Needless to say, Christmas shopping when you're hungover as hell is quite a nightmare.  Somehow Friday night, my friend and I ended up wasted at the Rudder.  Damn those shots.  And I got a phone call from my uncle around 10:30 Saturday morning - "Okay, I should be getting down there around 6:00.  I want you two to be at one hundred percent so that I can take you down peg by peg."  The scary thing was that I knew he wasn't joking.  

When we walked into Banana Republic a short time later, the look we exchanged with each other said it all - "This is going to suck."

Meeting back in line at the registers, she said to me, "Someone bumped into me at the rack and I nearly flipped out.  I need food.  And a beer."  It wasn't even noon.

We rallied ourselves and managed to get most of our shopping done with a lunch break at Applebee's somewhere in between.  Even though I still have a few people left to buy for, I'm very proud of myself for getting almost all of it done and sticking (within reason) to my budget.

Once we called it quits we focused on resting up for the evening.  A power nap and a shower, along with a couple slices of pizza, helped speed that process along.  Then it was time for the last hurrah of the season in Dewey Beach - the closing party at The Starboard.  Shots of Fireball whiskey before we head out?  Anyone?
I'll try not to beat a dead horse here.  You all know how much I love Dewey and what I do when I'm down there.  We partied like rock stars.  We drank our faces off and had a great time doing it.  I didn't have to worry about anyone catching me on a walk of shame the next morning - the only perk of it being early November.
So I know I said this when I posted about Labor Day Weekend, but now I can truly say that the season has come to a close, and now it's time to hunker down and pray for spring time.  Specifically, St. Patty's Day and the Starboard opening.

Jenny and I enjoying our last Grapefruit Crush of the season.

Most Of Us Really Are Living On the Edge

I'm living in a world where every one gets a trophy just for showing up.
I never got a trophy when I played baseball because I wasn't good at it, and that was okay with me.  I got my trophies singing my heart out all throughout my school career, from dedicating much of my time to practicing, rehearsing and performing.  When I got a varsity letter my freshman year for being on the swim team, I felt it was entirely undeserved, but the swim team is considered all around varsity.  
We spend an absurd amount of money on fancy, gourmet birthday cakes for babies while teaching them it's okay to verbally assault people over the internet.
Seriously, what are they going to think when they find out one day that daddy consistently called mommy a whore or that mommy trashed daddy for not paying child support?
Because, let's face it, we're living in a world where having a baby is not a big deal anymore.  The next generation might as well be called the "Oops Generation."
Which is one of the main reasons I make it a point to take my birth control and practice safe sex.  And when it comes down to it, I don't sleep with people I wouldn't at least consider having a child with.
I'm living in a world where, if asked whether or not I believe in God and all I say is yes, my response is immediately taken as a threat and I'm bashed for even having faith.
On the flip side, I'm living in a world where evangelists and right wing maniacs have distorted faith and religion so much that they now carry a nasty stain.
In my world, I go to work every day.  I pay my car insurance.  I pay my health insurance.  I make about $100 too much to qualify for government assistance.  But I still work, and I still pay my bills, with little or no money left over to put into my savings.
It must be nice to sit on your ass all day and know the government will take care of you.  I bought my iPhone with money from the same checking account I pay my bills out of.  You know, the one my paycheck is deposited into.
I'm living in a world where Nicki Minaj and Justin Bieber are considered "talent."
Enough said.  Where's the noose?
We are living in a world where young people demand respect from their elders without giving it first.
Remember the phrase "You have to earn respect before receiving it?"  Yeah, that's been lost in translation.

I'm tired of seeing the same status updates on Facebook, down to the most unimportant detail of someone's day.
I don't care what side of the bed you woke up on.  Unless it was in the middle of street in downtown Wilmington and you seemed to have lost your pants, I'm not interested.

I don't care what you're making for every meal of every day, either.
We are living in a world where shit like that has become the basis for our entertainment.
I'm stuck in this world where fact-checking has gone down the drain and people immediately believe what they see or read without looking into it first.
In today's world making the commute to work is enough to drive one insane.  We seem to have forgotten common courtesy and the fact that we will all get to our destination one way or the other.  You're not going to be late if you let even just one car merge in front of you.
We are all racing to the red light.
I'm living in a world where if I were to play Warren Zevon's Werewolves of London, it would be mistaken for that Kid Rock song.
I'm shaking my head.
In my world, asking someone to sit up straight is like asking them to shove bamboo shoots  under their fingernails.
Doesn't your back hurt from being slumped over all day?  Oh, and by the way, close your mouth.  You look like you're missing a chromosome.
I'm living in a world where it is expensive to eat healthy and cheap to just not care anymore.
I've been over this before.
I'm living in a world where the word judgmental has become a common adjective to describe someone's character.
Maybe if we stopped and put ourselves in someone else's shoes for a second, we'd think twice.  Maybe if we got to know our neighbors the world would be a nicer place.  Maybe if we weren't so quick to shove our beliefs down someone else's throat they would be willingly to listen to what we have to say.
We are living in a world where children are abducted and found murdered over car parts, or they are abused by someone they trust at a day camp.  You can't send your kids to school, vacation bible school, or sports camp without worrying whether or not they will be returned to you mentally intact or intact at all.
What is provoking this sickness that is rearing its ugly head in our society?  We are destroying our children, one by one, leaving them to grow up jaded and desensitized with no faith in humanity at all.
I am living in a world where evil is overshadowing good.  Drug cartels have taken over Mexico and leaving severed heads in front of elementary schools as a threat to teachers if half of their wages are not paid to cartels.
Excuse me, but what the fuck.  That makes the shit hole schools in run down neighborhoods I sometimes work in look like first class private academies.
The bottom line is that we're living on the edge.  Everyone is on the edge.  I feel it too.  Some days I want to flip out on the person in front of me in line at the store because they're paying for their goods with $20 in change.  But I don't.  Because I don't know what their situation is.  Maybe they scrounged up all they had left to buy a gallon of milk for their kids.
It's easier to be a dick than to be nice.  It's easier to keep walking instead of hold the door open for the person behind you struggling with an armload of stuff.  It's easier to cut the old person off to pull into the parking spot they were waiting for.  It's easier to discriminate rather than open our minds to something we're not familiar with.  We're all guilty of it; it's how we handle it.  Let's face it - we're living on the edge, but Steven Tyler says it better than I can.

Has the Buzzard Come Back To Roost?

I don't know if buzzards actually "roost," but the phrase seems appropriate.

When I got into my car after work one day a few weeks ago I looked at my phone and saw a text message - Hey how have you been - from an unsaved number.  But I knew all too well who it was - it was that monster from my past, the one I thought I had abolished from my life.  Second time in a week.  I waited a half an hour to text him back, finally deciding that it was possible for me to be grown up about it.  "I'm good how about you?"  He immediately texted back.  "Call me."

I restrained from giving him the response I was really thinking.

Ugh!  Why??  What do you want from me?  I haven't seen or had contact with you since the beginning of the summer.  You destroyed me beyond recognition and I finally wised up, walked away, and rebuilt my life!  Remember how I said I didn't want your bullshit and I don't need it, so fuck you??  I meant that!  Why do you feel the need to contact me now?  Because you're lonely?  Because you fucked up and are just now realizing it?

I switched on my blue tooth and did it.  I called the bastard.  Why not?  I'm a big girl now and he can't hurt me anymore.  I'm strong enough to not get sucked back into his twisted world.  He asked how I was and what was new, we bullshitted for a bit and he asked if I wanted to meet for a drink.  I didn't have any plans and it was still early so I figured why the hell not, let's see what the bastard really wants.

"Where should we go?  I'm banned from Cheney's...something happened with the club...I'm not even sure what, I wasn't involved..." 

(Yeah, right, I'm sure you were right there in the middle of whatever it was.  And if Cheney's can ban you shitheads why can't Murph's?  I know and like the owners and don't want you around them.)

We ended up meeting at a bar down the street from my house, one that - believe it or not - neither of us had been to.  We figured it was safe because we wouldn't see anyone we knew.  He was concerned about club affiliations I'm sure, but so was I; I didn't need anyone I knew seeing me with him in general.

As I sat in the parking lot waiting for him I wondered what my reaction was going to be when I saw him for the first time in four months.  I was surprised that he had called me this soon; I expected at least another couple of months to go by before I heard from him.  Deep down, regardless of the fact that I truly didn't care if I had never heard from him again, I knew he wouldn't stay away.  But I wouldn't go as far as to say that I was anticipating it.
So what happened when I saw him walk up to the door?  Nothing.  I watched him from my car for a few seconds; he was the on the phone, looking around for me.  Some things never change.  Was I nervous?  Of course.  I was about to have a drink with a man who had been a huge part of my life for four years - a love affair that ended in a bitter and nasty manner.  At least on my end.
He didn't look bad.  Bummer.  I was secretly hoping he looked like hell so I wouldn't feel anything at all, not even a slight tug in the place he used to know so well.  But really it made no difference - I didn't feel anything when I saw him.
We went and sat at the bar, he was still on the phone, toting paperwork he had to get finished up.  Of course.  Let's fill out tax forms and mail motorcycle payments from the bar.  No big deal.  I was shaking my head every time he wasn't looking.  That's one of the things that used to piss me off about him - whenever I expected or needed undivided attention, I never got it.  His mind was always somewhere else.  It wasn't until the checks were written and envelopes sealed that he fixed his gaze on me.  Jesus, it was like looking at a trashy version of Christian Grey, wearing jeans and work boots and covered in tattoos.  Minus the red hair.  Shudder.  I had so much I wanted to spew at him.  I wanted to berate him, tear him down and point out every single one of his flaws.  That would have taken all night so I decided against it.  Instead I played cordial.  One word answers.  He doesn't need to know I'm seeing someone.  He doesn't need to know what I do in my spare time anymore.  I'm content with him being oblivious when it comes to my personal life.  I in turn asked the general, polite questions, working my way up to what I really wanted to hear from him - how his life has gone to shit since I left.  I know all the details already, I just wanted to hear from his own mouth.  But he wouldn't grant me that pleasure.
So really all that happened that night was a couple of old friends catching up.  We parted ways with a hug and a kiss, and I had the feeling that wouldn't be the last time I saw him...

I was right.