‘If you’re not one of Goddess’ boys, what are you, really?’

May 19th, 2017, 8:17 PM by Goddess

“You should ask X for (thing I really need from them),” they tell me.

I say I’m still mad. Not necessarily at X. Well, not entirely at X. But when one person’s decision ignites YOUR world on fire, yeah. Need a little more mad time, thanks.

“You NEED to ask,” they text back.

I say look. I’m grateful for all the good. There was a whole lot of it. And I think I cherished it all. Maybe not as much, toward the end. But I still knew the risks of leaving first. And those helped me stay.

“They owe you, Goddess,” they say. “Your life was dedicated to them. Your heart, soul health was invested. They know that. Don’t let it all be for nothing. It was bigger than all of you before it was a pile of dust.”

I think about it. And the revelation appears out of nowhere.

He didn’t want to be one of “my boys.” And I don’t know how to compute that.

They aren’t all “my boys,” you know. Sure, I give them every opportunity. Most of them realize a Goddess-less life isn’t worth living. And a Goddess-blessed one is filled with a whole lot more joy than the alternative.

One of my boys typed to another the other day, “If you’re not one of Goddess’ boys, what are you, really?”

I was cc’d. And so very pleased.

I think I always felt second/third/whatever fiddle. No matter how much I gave or tried or hurt or stressed or worried. Maybe I wasn’t so far down the food chain. I don’t know. Perhaps I needed more validation than I got. Or perhaps my apparent lack of needing any was off-putting.

In any event. I do feel owed. You go all-in and you are standing there alone half the time. Not bond-building. You memorize every detail of their life, and they probably still don’t know your cocktail of choice that you never ever deviate from.

It’s OK. It’s always OK. You’re always OK, even when you’re not.

I’m not a fan of this “Smile because it happened” shit. I will damn well cry because it’s over until I die.

But I’m getting better. It’s just not happening on any timetable that anyone would deem quick. And I may never get what it is I need/deserve. Not from this person. Maybe not from anyone.

But there is always the hope.

Mother’s Day 2017

May 14th, 2017, 8:14 AM by Goddess

Mom said to me yesterday she wishes she could make it to age 65.

She’s turning 60 in September. God willing.

Saw this vintage secret on PostSecret today. It could be mine …

Not only someone to comfort me when the worst thing ever to happen to me happens (the only event that can surpass the 2016 election), but also someone who didn’t/doesn’t support Trumpanzee.

And I thought it was hard to get a good man without those parameters …

Pro tip 

May 11th, 2017, 9:13 AM by Goddess

You can wear mascara on just your upper lashes. That way you can cry and not have raccoon tracks. You’re welcome. 


April 30th, 2017, 11:53 AM by Goddess

The thing about change isn’t the change itself. It’s the ripple effects.

We are undergoing a massive, disruptive change right now.

Let’s just say Felicia said “Bye.”  I saw no reason it would be a bad change. Or any at all, for that matter. Felicia had toodle-oo’d long before that.

In any event, the little things are now the big things. The being five miles from mom in case of an emergency, gone. The having a mechanic up the street so I can drop off the car and not miss a beat in my day, gone. The (albeit incompetent) Starbucks 10 paces away that I could wander to, any time of any day, poof. Flip-flops and pigtails, later gator.

For my friends, no more dropping spouses off at work. Or having dinner ready when they come home. Or hanging around late without an hour drive ahead. Or using lunch to run to the vet.

But we won’t complain. We won this round of “Survivor.” The rest, well. I just wish folks knew their true worth. Story for another time. 

The story I will tell today, however, is this. 

The restaurant across the street has Wine Wednesdays. Half-price past 7 p.m. 

 I never did it often enough, but occasionally I would meet my good friend Meiomi for two glasses of her goodness for the same $10 I’d pay for just one any other night. (And yes, I know a bottle is $20-$26 depending where you shop.)

This past Wednesday, I wandered in at 7 between crises. Ordered my glass, and another. 

The guy next to me, another singleton who snagged the other single seat between loads of couples at the bar, said wow. Do they always pour that heavy here?

I said I’m somewhat of a regular. The bartender knows me. 

What I didn’t say, was she didn’t say a word to me. She looked right at my face and instinctively filled that shit up to the brim. That, my friends, is worth a good tip. 

I’m gonna miss her. My bartender, as much as Meiomi at that bar.

As for the guy, I found I rather enjoyed his company. Lives nearby. Was on his way to an event. Wanted a quick beer and salad before he went.

Smelled good, spoke well. Worked it in right away that he’s Italian. A weakness of mine, though I never said that much.

I didn’t say much at all, really. Guys like that. Drives them crazy. Especially when they pump you for information when they can’t put it together that you were calling folks long before you had any information of your own, and you know WAY more than you’ll ever let on. You have friends they don’t know about. And never will. Make ’em squirm. Like they did you.

Anyway, short story short, I knew I was going to meet someone. Didn’t know when or where. Just knew it would happen. 

Hell, based on the fact that he wasn’t a Trump voter qualifies him as husband material. That’s how it goes here. In the Resistance? Check. Likes wine, coffee and beer? Check? Lives in may favorite town on earth? Check, check, check.

What an interesting transition this could turn out to be, to go back to spending my weekends in my town instead of weekdays.

‘What kind of coward was I to marry her, and not wait for you to show up?’

April 20th, 2017, 7:43 PM by Goddess

Fitz said that to Olivia on “Scandal.” On the campaign trail, days before he was elected president.

Back when I believed in legitimate presidents and love, I heard something similar.

What kind, indeed.