When I Was Your Man


Year One, Month Eleven, Day 17

It’s been exactly two years since I broke up with Robert.

Time flies when you’re having fun.

What’s funny though, is that I ran into his best friend, Sarah,  about a week ago at the Trader Joe’s near my condo.

I hadn’t seen in her more than two years…and had not talked with her since a few months after I dumped Robert.

She hadn’t changed a bit, and I was very happy to see her

After she and I got caught up on each others lives (Yes, I told her about Alex, and how happy he made me), I asked her how Robert was doing.

She looked me, shook her head sadly, and said, “Lizzie, he is worse than he was when you broke up with him.  He is more crochety, disagreeable, and he’s gotten mean-spirited.  His house is falling down around his ears.  He hasn’t gotten the air and heating system fixed YET, and he hates his job. ”

I said, “Sounds about right.”

Sarah continued, “Lizzie, not too long ago he texted me and Chuck to meet him to see a band downtown.  I replied saying it sounded fun…when do you want to meet?”  No response.  I continued to text him asking when he wanted to get together….and still heard nothing. When the day came for the show, I hadn’t heard from him, so Chuck and I decided to head to the club on our own.  We ordered a drink, and I got a text from him saying ‘Guess you’re not interested in coming. See you next time.’  Fifteen minutes later, he walked into the club and was shocked to see us.  He was there to hook up with someone.  Good God, Lizzie!  He’s 67 years old….and the women there were mostly in their 20’s.  They would look at him and say, ‘Aw…you’re so cute…just like my grandfather.’

I said, “I’m not surprised.  He always thought he was the best lover in the town.  Hate to tell you, but he’s not…and IT is not a big deal.”

“Lizzie,” she continued, “You did the right thing by breaking up with him.  I’ll tell you, he was upset about the breakup  for months.  I finally told him ‘you were lucky she put up with your shit for 23 years.  If you hadn’t lied and cheated on her and treated her the way you should have she never would have never left you.’

We parted soon after Sarah said that, each of us promising to keep in touch.

I know we won’t.

But that conversation with her stuck with me.  It confirmed that my decision to end things with him was right.

I don’t feel angry at Robert any more.

I feel sorry for him; an old man trying to pick up women forty years younger than he?  Stuck in a dilapidated house with a job he hates and no family to care if he lives or dies.

It’s pathetic.  And I am lucky to be out of it and with a kind generous man who loves me.

So when I heard this Bruno Mars song yesterday, I immediately thought of Robert:

My pride, my ego, my needs, and my selfish ways
Caused a good strong woman like you to walk out my life
Now I never, never get to clean up the mess I made, ohh…
And it haunts me every time I close my eyes

It all just sounds like oooooh…
Mmm, too young, too dumb to realize
That I should’ve bought you flowers
And held your hand
Should’ve gave you all my hours
When I had the chance
Take you to every party
‘Cause all you wanted to do was dance
Now my baby’s dancing
But she’s dancing with another man

Although it hurts
I’ll be the first to say that I was wrong
Oh, I know I’m probably much too late
To try and apologize for my mistakes
But I just want you to know

I hope he buys you flowers
I hope he holds your hand
Give you all his hours
When he has the chance
Take you to every party
‘Cause I remember how much you loved to dance
Do all the things I should have done
When I was your man
Do all the things I should have done
When I was your man

 

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Santa Barbara


Year 1, Month 6, Day 6

I was blissfully unaware of what had happened in Santa Barbara until this morning.

Normally, I pay close attention to news, and read several online versions of national papers daily. My excuse is it was a holiday weekend; I was looking forward to a birthday celebration for my two-year old nephew and a long weekend with Alex. (Yes…that is going very well…and I’ll fill you in on developments with him soon.

So when I fired up my laptop this morning, and started catching up on the news, I was horrified by what I was reading.

Any mass shooting is horrible. Obviously the perpetrator is ill and it is a sad statement on our society that we can purchase guns easier than we can get our loved ones help if they suffer from a mental illness.

But, one of my friends (a male, btw) posted this link to this blog and I wanted to share parts of it with you, Gentle Readers.

Elliot Rodger is the product of a society that teaches that women are evil and men are entitled

Women are raised to not talk to strangers on the street. This is for our own safety, because we know and our mothers know that the mere act of being a woman could make certain people want to harm us. We walk with our keys in our hands like weapons, we walk in circles, we avert our eyes.

Yet, we can’t make a trip to the grocery store without some douche canoe commenting on the state of our legs, breasts or ass. And when we complain about this, we don’t get understanding, we get told that we need to take a compliment. We get told that these brave men have been kind enough to take a moment out of their day to compliment us, and that we should be grateful.

Because while we are taught to fear for our safety, men are taught that they are owed our attention. They are taught that they are owed sex, and that the only thing standing in between them and sex is the woman herself, and how dare she.

This statement hit home with me…

Being a woman means that one of the worst crimes that can possibly be committed against you is often chalked up to a “he said-she said” situation. Being a woman means having to hear the words “cry rape” on a regular basis, despite the fact that statistics show that false rape reports are extremely rare. Only about 2% of rape reports end up being considered “unfounded”–and all that means is that they couldn’t gather enough evidence. Despite this statistic, you will pretty much never stop hearing about how women “cry rape” and are constantly accusing innocent men of rape for no other reason than that they’re evil bitches.

Being a woman means that people will feel frustrated with you for daring to think you should earn as much as a man. It means you have to see a bunch of men on TV wringing their hands and worrying about “women breadwinners.” It means that on Page Six last week, Richard Johnson was suggesting that the reason Jill Abramson was fired was that she passed over qualified men who were owed those jobs in order to hire unqualified women who were not, and no one is supposed to bat an eyelash.

Being a woman means being told–by another woman, no less–that you trying to argue for your own safety, that you even talking about rape culture or talking about what men can do to prevent rape is going to “ruin college” for the mens. Stop being a downer. Stop ruining all the fun, ladies.>/p>

Being a woman means growing up in a society in which your sexuality is perceived as a weapon. In which it is considered an act of violence.  We love believing in evil women, femme fatales, etc. We live in a society where 80% of the population believes that a woman, Eve, is responsible for the loss of paradise, the loss of a beautiful, perfect society where everything is beautiful and nothing hurts. A woman is responsible for making the naked body a thing of shame. A woman who used her sexuality to corrupt the world. Whether we believe in it or not, this is our inheritance. Resentment is our inheritance. Is there any wonder there’s so much violence against us?

Being a woman means that if you aren’t interested in a man who is interested in you, he gets to think you’re a bitch. Think about that for a second–can you imagine a woman thinking a man is a jerk for daring to not like her back? Can you even fathom a woman saying “How dare he not be sexually attracted to me? I’ve been nice!” Would a man who rejected a woman be derided as “shallow?” No, because men are supposed to be shallow. It’s perfectly fine for a man to be shallow. No one would think less of a man for not being interested in a woman he wasn’t sexually attracted to, but it’s a sin for a woman to do the same.

Being a woman means that you have to hear you are a bad person for “friendzoning” a man who would prefer to be banging you. For daring to allow him to hang out with you and even listen to you without returning that favor with sex! We have to hear about how awful we are for “preferring jerks” to “nice guys,” because that is the conclusion men jump to when rejected. “It must be because she is a terrible person who only likes terrible people!” It’s no surprise that Elliot Rodger, a mass murderer, thought of himself as a “nice guy” and a true gentleman. Every woman on earth knows that the guys who complain about being “nice guys” or about being “friendzoned” are the real jerks.

Being a woman means that Elliot Rodger isn’t a surprise to you. Because you’ve met Elliot Rodger before, you’ve met his anger before, you’ve met his entitlement. You don’t have the luxury of being surprised by what he did, because you’ve been expecting it all along.

Elliot Rodger was the product of a culture that teaches male entitlement. Men are entitled to women, to sex, to jobs, to money–and if they don’t get them, then women are to blame. He felt entitled to all these things and was livid over not getting them. You don’t see women committing crimes like this because we are not taught to feel entitled to these things.

We need to stop teaching our sons that they are “entitled.”  Don’t let them get away with a” boys will be boys” attitude.  Teach them that a woman has the right to say “no” if she isn’t interested in them sexually.  And we need to teach our girls to stand up for themselves…to not be scared to tell a parent, a teacher, a minister if she is being sexually harassed, abused, or bullied.

Finally we need to teach all our children to be civil and respectful of others. To walk in others shoes..to try to understand how others feel when they get picked on, laughed at, or made fun of.

I don’t want to hear more about innocent people being killed simply because they had the nerve to be in love, to be affectionate in public, to be WOMEN.

This shit has got to stop.

#YesAllWomen

Going for the Gold


Year One, Month 2, Day 29

Gold, Silver, Bronze

I enjoy the Olympics…particularly the Winter Games.

I love the grace and beauty of figure skating.  I admire the sheer bravery of the sliding athletes (bobsled, luge and skeleton).   The stunts in Freestyle skiing and half pipe snowboarding are astonishing.

It’s great to see the best athletes in the world compete and win.   And, I always feel a little bad for the silver medalist.  To paraphrase Jerry Seinfeld, “You’re the best of the losers.  Nobody lost better than you.”  Sure, it’s funny.  But it’s true.

These kids work, train, and give up their lives to achieve their dreams of Olympic glory. And then to miss the gold medal by 1/100 of a second must be heartbreaking.

While they make the medal stand and glad to be there, part of them has be a little sad at coming up second best.

That’s a feeling I know all too well, Gentle Reader.

And I hate it.

I have had a few stark reminders the last couple weeks that I am, for some reason, always second best when it comes to men.

I waited in vain for Robert to propose. I settled for being Peter’s dirty little secret…. not just last year but when we first dated in 1989.   Troy had other plans and things that were more important than me. I fucked a married guy and allowed him to walk away scot-free. And I now find myself in a sexual relationship with a man while I continue looking for my Mr. Darcy.

I’m not sure why men never see me as the prize.  I’m intelligent, funny, not unattractive, loving, loyal, passionate and caring.   I’m a great cook, and not afraid to use power tools or change a tire. I don’t need a man to complete me…but I do want one to complement me.

I am a happier and more stable person than I was this time a year ago, but I know the chances of finding love, at my age, are slim.

Why do men ALWAYS see me as the back up girl…the bridesmaid…the silver medalist?

Is it because I see myself as second best; not worthy of being a man’s first choice?

That’s a thought that’s going to fester, Gentle Readers.

I’m tired of coming in second.

I want that gold medal.