The proper way to start off this letter would be to thank you for your latest correspondence and then enquire about your life, physical well being and state of mind. But I am not known to be proper and nice and I don’t care about your life or physical well being. We both know your life is just dandy and your physical well being has always been just darn fabulous. And gorgeous.

As for your state of mind, you obviously need help. Why else would you have decided to get in contact with me after all these months? I know just enough about mental health issues to diagnose myself and the answer has always been the same: He messed you up good. He is a psychopath.

I guess I have been right all the time. You are a psychopath. Intelligent and charming. Dangerous in every damn way. Your e-mail proved that to me. Not the type of proof I could use in a court of law to get a restraining order to ban you from my heart, soul and mind. To get that restraining order, I need intervention from my Fairy Godmother.

You have once again succeeded in to dragging my heart and soul back into the long haul of darkness, confusion and bitter sweet pain. Congratulations. You managed to crumble my walls of safety with a single e-mail, two paragraphs and six sentences.

Now I have no defense against the demons of the past. They have slipped in with the cold wind of realization that you have still the power to send me swirling into heartbreak.

I should have just pressed the over-used delete button of my computer and pushed your e-mail into get-lost-and-die city. But I did not.

It took me longer than a moment but I realized that it will be futile to drag this process out.  I am done.  I am not going to participate in your sick games.

You will never ever own my heart and soul again. Because you need a heart and soul to bargain for that right, and you lost your heart and soul again a thousand years ago.

xoxo,

The Ex

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Cheating is never OK, it is humiliating.  It breaks the ultimate trust. He will regret it later and you will not entertain him by listening to his explanations.  He can get a therapist to listen to his ramblings.

# 2: he is married or committed but not to you

Self respecting women do not share. We are the centre, the beginning and the end of our relationships. There is no place for any other woman in our relationships.

# 3: if the relationship is violent (emotionally or physically)

He can call you names like gorgeous, babe, whatever your fabulous being fancies. If he calls you a derogative name, he can deal with your attorney.   Don’t hang around to determine whether plates can fly.

# 4: he is under the impression that you are his Mommy

If you are sleeping with him but he expects you to also cook and clean for him like his Mommy does, you are the Mommy that is sleeping with him. His surrogate Mommy. That is strange. If it is not incest, then it is certainly bordering on it. If you did not give birth to him, then you are not his Mommy. If he expects you to fill Mommy’s shoes, walk away. In your own gorgeous shoes.

# 5: he is obsessively jealous

When he wants to be around you 25 hours every day and if he is controlling and monitoring your every movement, you should not be flattered. You should be creeped out. He has clinging issues and he needs a shrink.

# 6: if he never calls you; only your fingers are pressing the dialing buttons

And his excuse is? He does not know how to use that equipment that Alexander Bell invented many moons ago?

Remember he knew how to use that very same equipment when he was still hunting you.

No, he is not now suffering from selective temporary amnesia. He is suffering from ‘I do not how to appreciate a great woman’ fever.  He chose that disease. Now you have the choice.

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Carrie thought that she was totally messed up. Cause she had her Two Great Loves, Mr Big and Aiden. Little did she know that she would eventually marry her First Great Love.

I watched the episode on DVD during a marathon catch-up session in between work assignments.  I remember I was gulping down glasses of wine with the hopes that the golden liquid would kill the pain.

I was going through a horrible break-up, the break-up, and could for the life of me not understand why that specific break-up was so bad; why I could not just move on with my life. It was just not as easy as the previous times.

By the time that Carrie realized that she messed up in the love department, I was drunk-dialing my best friend, Elize and told her, ‘ ‘He is my One Great Love’.

‘Finally.  You finally came to your senses’, Elize told me.

Yes, I am duff. I needed a TV show to make me realize that I was not just merely breaking up with just another man, I was breaking up with my One Great Love.

My realization that he is my One Great Love came too late.

I have caused the relationship too much damage already. I have caused him too much pain. And my latent pride did not allow me to go back and plead for his forgiveness. I don’t beg.  I endure my broken heart with sheer tenacity, pride and loads of alcohol.

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Mending a broken heart is not easy because memories have the ability to open wounds and rub little crystallized salt pieces on the wound.  That is why I made a deal with my with my subconscious; it would allow me to sleep through my broken heart and I will try to feed it with fresh untainted memories.  My subconscious did not make good on that promise.  Last night my dreams betrayed me.

I dreamed about him.  The person who once was a part of me, who owned my heart and soul, has become a gorgeous stranger who is stalking me in my dreams. Last night the gorgeous stranger told me that he feels vulnerable when he is with me; in that moment I felt vulnerable.

His words transported me back from Dream Lala Land, back to reality. I woke up, confused and disorientated. I did not want to go back to sleep. I could not go back to sleep. I could not go back to that vulnerable moment with the gorgeous stranger.

I preferred to stay in reality; fighting off demons I thought I have slain long time ago.

Apparently, I have not. The mere thought of letting myself being vulnerable, being vulnerable with another person, was causing me to hyperventilate while I was speeding back into time. Right back into what was once my season of heartbreak. A season that lasted more than a year.

Last night, in that dream, I felt vulnerable. Again. My dreams are splintering my soul all over again.

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The first guy is an investment banker who is family-oriented and likes a lot of the same movies as I do.  He spends much of his time staying active and hanging out with friends.  The time he spends online is limited, which I like because it means he’s not awkward in social environments.  We exchanged numbers and have been talking for a couple of days, mostly about work.  I like that our conversation has stayed light, because I know he isn’t trying to size me up and judge me; instead, he’s actually trying to build a rapport.  I like where this is going.

The second guy is a manager at Home Depot.  This is a leap from the bachelor number one, I know, but what really got me was that he fit all my requirements.  He is attractive in a subtle way, quirky in the self-deprecating way he described himself, and clearly described what he was looking for: fun dates but looking for more if the right person comes along.  We’re still in the messaging stage, but if he is as charming in person as he is online, I’m hooked.

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This all came up in our pre-movie conversation.  First of all, he showed up wearing the same outfit he wore on our previous date which was also the same outfit he had on in his profile picture.  I said to him, “You’re a pharmacist.  You can afford to splurge on clothes.  Hell, you can afford to have more than one outfit in your closet.”  Yes, I actually gave him a hard time about it because I was so thrown off by his taste in entertainment, which I know shouldn’t matter so much but I just can’t help it.  He responded by admitted that he’s cheap.  He’s the cheapest person he knows and even his friends give him a very hard time about it.  I felt lucky that he’d paid for me these past few dates, but this was an extremely huge turn-off.  This is definitely a deal-breaker and I have no choice but to end it.

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Moments before our date, my mind was so frenzied that I almost lost my appetite.  I kept asking myself stupid questions like what I would do if he isn’t as tall as he says he is, or what I’d do if he doesn’t know how to hold a conversation?  WHAT IF HE DOESN’T LIKE WHAT HE SEES AND I GET STOOD UP?  It was pretty intense mentally sparring with myself.  As I drove up to the sushi restaurant a fashionable eight minutes late, I took some deep breaths and walked in to find the attractive, warm-looking doctor standing up to welcome me.  We were both beaming at each other, probably from mutual relief that we did our pictures justice.

When I’m first getting to know a guy, I tend to tell little white lies in place of the naked truth.  I’m sure this is common practice, because dating really is a performance art.  It’s also my barometer for how much I like a guy and how much I want it to last.  It’s not hard at all to hold a conversation with someone who genuinely wants to get to know you, especially when he listens and lets you talk.  This doctor is obviously very accomplished, so I tried to play up my interests outside of my not-as-honorable Lab Technician job.  To my advantage, he doesn’t like talking about work too much, and we have a lot in common!  We both love discovering new music and watching indie movies, and we’ve scheduled a date for the weekend that includes both.  Jackpot.

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Once upon a time I believed in endless love and lived in Lala-Love-Is-Forever fantasy land; I was blinded by your red roses, heart shaped cheap chocolates and antique bow.

But you pushed me back into the cold of reality land. You had the uncanny ability to hook me up with little mamas’ boys whose minds are being controlled by their adolescent-like hormones. Twice, you did it.

You missed twice. Your aiming abilities suck. Or is it your arrow? I don’t trust arrows anyway. Why did you choose an arrow as weapon of choice to hunt down love obsessed people? Because it resemblances a certain male organ?

Thought so. I always figured you for a man. It explains all the icky hook-ups you have made with your joy stick.

Your secret is out. And you owe me. Now your naked behind is mine.

I am going to give you only more chance to redeem yourself. I have a belated simple request. You must hook me up with a loaded wallet. I don’t care if the wallet is attached to a person with an adolescent hormonal problem; I also don’t care if the wallet is attached to a person with a bleeding heart. Long as that person knows how to accessorize. Appropriately.

Cause, I deserve to be happy. Jimmy and Marcmake me very happy.

Yeah, I am bringing in other men into the pending relationship with the wallet. I am sure that he, the attachment to the wallet, is going to be OK with it all. Because I will be very forgiving if, and when, he would bring other women into the equation.

No worries. Jimmy and Marc have the ability to mellow me out. We will just be one big happy family. And that, my dear naked friend, is the naked truth!

So, do your thing and brighten up my Valentine’s Week. Hook me up. With a fully loaded wallet.

xoxo

The Single Lady

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He knows exactly when to lie as to protect my fragile ego from bruising.  No, I am not delicate!  I just don’t like harsh ugly truths.

And I lie because I can and sometimes the truth would just be destructive to our relationship.

Yeah, I know.  A couple of good girls are now thinking ‘she is killing her relationship’, ‘that relationship is doomed’.

My response to the holier than though people:  So?  People are telling white lies everyday.  You are on the receiving end of those lies every day.  Remember the last your boyfriend told you that he likes you in that horrid dress?  Well, he lied.  And you know that he lied.

So, yes, I do think that white lies are sometimes necessary and totally justifiable.  I even have a favorites’ list:

Boyfriend:  Babe, you look great in that dress!

Good boy!  I love the way you lie!

Me: I love your mother.  She can stay as long as she wants.

She is a witch, and I am going to kill her slowly.  You better be adopted.  There is no way that my unborn children are going to inherit that woman’s DNA.

Me:  Baby, you shouldn’t have!  I love it!

Really, you shouldn’t have. What the hell were you thinking?  I hate it. I hope you kept the receipt because this is going right back to the shop.  I am going exchange it for wine and wash away the memories of this icky gift.

Boyfriend:  You are the hottest girl I have ever dated! I am so lucky.

You think that I am hotter than your ex?  The tall thin person who is earning money by pretending that she is a clothing hanger?  Ha! You are lying but I love for you it!

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I’m not much of a believer in generalizations, so I know that this isn’t true for everyone. It’s certainly true for me. When I met my husband I was in a very happy place with my body. I was walking or jogging five days a week, eating well and looked better than I had in years (I’d only recently come out of a four year relationship). And then he cooked for me. No problem, I was able to keep up my morning fitness routine and continued to eat healthy on the nights where I was home alone. And then we moved in together. I love my husband and his cooking, but his idea of healthy foods and mine are NOT the same. So okay, I’m not eating as healthy, I reasoned in the beginning, I still have my morning routine. And then comfort set in. We got married and both of us rather “let ourselves go” in ways. I still workout, but the motivation to do so is definitely fewer and farther between. My husband rarely works out at all. We don’t eat too badly on weeknights but seem to lose our minds over the weekend, an indulgence that has come home to roost, right in my thighs.

Being in a long-term relationship can make even the most devoted fitness buff lose some of their gusto, but it’s just one more thing to work on in your relationship. Although I have definitely lost a fair portion of my gusto I’m forced to recognize (every morning in the mirror) that you can’t just give up on yourself because you’re comfortable, or you won’t be comfortable for long.

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