Tuesday, October 30, 2012

What it means to be a Fleming

  There's been a lot of sadness lately in the Fleming family. Even though Bob and I aren't together anymore, I'll always consider myself a part of his family. I was with them for 13 years. Imagine an only child raised by her grandparents getting meshed into a super large family full of lots of sisters and babies. It was culture shock at first. Then, I grew to love it. Of course, there was always something wacky going on. I've had my hardest laughs around them. It's pretty easy to sum up a Fleming family member. They will tell you exactly what's on their mind, but also give you the shirt off their back. They look out for each other most of all. Maybe that's what I grew to love the most. It was always total insanity, but it wouldn't have been right any other way. Lately, they've suffered some huge blows. My brother-in-law, Bill, passed away very recently. He was one of the best damn guys you've ever met. Everyone loved the shit out of him. He made everyone laugh like crazy. He was just a good man. Taken well before his time. For them to lose Bill was rough enough. The other night, my father-in-law, Bob, died. Many of the kids had a kind of ruptured relationship with him. He didn't make it so easy on them and things happened to make the relationships strained. Sometimes, losing someone you weren't on the best terms with makes their passing more difficult. Even though Bob and I are not together anymore, I still care deeply about him and his family. He was my best friend for 13 years. Our love may have grown apart, but he will always be that friend to me. To know he is hurting saddens me so much. I guess, I've grown a lot because I'm happy he has his girlfriend, Angela, to comfort him. When we first separated, it was very rough, I won't lie. But, it's helped shape who I am now. I'm a totally independent woman. Damn proud of that. They're very happy together and that makes me happy for him. Bob's a great guy and one of the best dads out there. I'm happy to have spent time as his wife. We created a beautiful boy and had a good marriage. Now, he's still my friend and family. That family is still my family. I love his sisters like they are my blood sisters. That will never change. I just want to take all their pain away. If you know a Fleming, then you know how great they are. I'm proud to still be one. I guess that's why I never changed my name back. I love the Griffith clan, but I never really knew them to well. I became a Fleming through good times and bad. I suffered and laughed with them. I watched babies be born and grow up, marriages come and go. The worst part is to see some leave this earth and the sadness they leave behind. If you know a Fleming, give them an extra hug. They need it.

Sunday, October 28, 2012

Murtaugh said it right, "I'm getting too old for this shit"

  I almost titled this "I kissed my apartment floor when I got home". After an insane night, I felt like it. My friend wanted to go out for her birthday. Having had a bad week, I tried to not go. Then, I felt bad and realized it was for her, so I went. Remind me never to do selfless things.
  After work, my friend, her cousin and her annoying on/again off/again boyfriend and his friend met at my apartment. They wanted to "pre-game". I had not idea what that was. Apparently, you drink obnoxiously before going out to drink. Let me set the scene- Shelly, completely blitzed and ready for whatever. Ian, her cousin and designated driver. The friends, drunk, one dressed in Halloween slut wear. Me, SOBER. I just wanted to leave and get the night over with. Finally, around 11:30, we left. We drive crammed into one car to River City bar. They were having their Halloween celebration. Only two of us were dressed up-girl and me as Rosie the Riveter. As we get there, Shelly declares that she left her license at my apartment. We drive the twenty minutes back to get it. Get back to the bar, and it's $20 dollars to get admission. I'll pay that much to see a concert or a good comedian. To get into a fucking bar in Wheeling? Hell, no. Shelly decided to go to the Owl's Nest bar, or bane of my existence. I hate that place. They notoriously steal people's credit card information. I just want to go home, as does Ian, but we tread on for Shelly.
  As we're walking back through downtown Wheeling, Shelly sees her friend's bar. It looks like it was a freakin' Bone, Thugs & Harmony reunion straight off St. Clair avenue in Cleveland. At this point, my mood was dwindling to pure annoyance and I flat out refused to go. One, I feared for my well-being. Two, I really dislike her friend. She acts like she's never met me every time I meet her. And, she once gave me love advice after telling me a story about hitting her boyfriend with a frying pan. Yeah, think I'll pass on this fun time. Shelly goes in alone to say "hi" to her friend while we wait on the street. Finally, she emerges and we walk back to find Ian's car. On the way, Shelly declares she can't find her i.d. Mine you, she's been dropping all her possessions like Hansel and Gretel with breadcrumbs. However, she insists someone didn't give her i.d. back. This becomes my silver lining. Without that i.d., she can't get in anywhere. But, having some drunken hope, she insists on trying to get into the Owl's Nest. It's almost one at this point. Girl wants to stop at her house and change out of Halloween slut outfit. Hey, what's more time? I've only been up since six in the morning. We finally get to the Owl's Nest and I realize there's no God, because they let her in without her i.d., despite my prayers. Does the night get better? No. I then run into this guy who was friends with my ex, Joe. We hung out a few times, played poker, watched movies. We were friends. One day, he declared his love for me. I explained that I didn't feel the same. He defriended me on Facebook. Flash to this night- drunken and angry at me, saying I wrote him a message saying he was an "asshole". Not true. I may think things about people, but I rarely tell them. I hate confrontation. So, it's VERY awkward. Eventually, I convince him I didn't write this and smooth things over a bit. This is after he looked me directly in my eyes and told me he thought he was a sociopath. Ian and I confessed our plan to escape to the car and text Shelly to ditch her friends. She had wanted to earlier, but now we were totally on board. Before it seemed rude, now it just seemed like a necessity. We get shielded by my sociopathic friend and make our escape. He stops me before I escape, asking "You're not going to ditch me are you? I need to pay my tab." Lying, I nervously shake my head and then Ian and I run. We hide in the car, repeatedly texting and calling Shelly. Normally, her phone is up her ass except for tonight. She's too busy being charmed by the local drunk who was buying her drinks. Twenty minutes later at two, she emerges. With friends. Plan fail. They all want to go to another bar. ANOTHER BAR! I'd had it. No, I want to go home. Ian did, too. He was sick of being a chauffeur. Thing one and thing two wanted to drink more. Assholes. Luckily, Shelly refused and we headed home. I say home because I stupidly offered a place for everyone to crash if they drank. Hindsight is twenty/twenty, right? Luckily, we dropped loud girl off at her house. We got home. I felt like kissing the damn ground of my apartment. Shelly and annoying guy took my bed, while Ian and I slept in the living room. In the morning, I woke up to an annoying droning noise that I thought was snoring. Nope, just this kid's super-annoying, monotone voice. Finally, he left. Thank God for Ian. He was my only saving grace that night. He kept my sanity. We suffered together like it was the battle of Normandy. We both love Shelly to death, but couldn't lie when she asked if we hated her friend. I might have elaborated on that fact too much. We do love her and that's why we suffered. It was all for her. We spent more time in the car than we did in any actual bars. Birthday girl had the front seat. I was wedged between monotone and slut wear, singing in my ears the whole ride. The whole night made me envision rolling myself out of the car at high speeds that we couldn't reach because so many of us were packed into this tiny car. I can totally laugh about it, but, at the time, it was hellish. Very reminiscent of Griffin Dunne in After Hours. Maybe next year, we can do something more enjoyable like hit ourselves in the head with hammers.

Thursday, October 25, 2012

Depressed, part 500

  I should call this blog "I'm so depressed". There's more depression that dating that goes on in my life. I just discovered that my ex's girlfriend has been setting up emails in my name. You know, I'm really trying to forget that whole chapter of my life. I don't even want to remember the good times with him. It needs to be completely eradicated from my mind. Last year, close to this time, I thought I might have breast cancer and found out the love of my life was cheating on me. Flash forward to now- the girl that knowingly cheated with that said love is harassing me. Why? Who knows? She won. She got him. They collectively destroyed me. Let it go. Let me move on. That's all I want. Leave me alone. I have a son that I want to be here for mentally and physically. At this point, he sees me cry a lot. I hate that. Enjoy also destroying a child's life with his mother? I can't move on if I'm constantly harassed. Honestly, it's not fair. But, life isn't fair, I know. It's like I'm in a grave and she keeps throwing dirt on me. Why he would want to be with an individual like that is beyond me. Why she's so obsessed with me is also mind-boggling. I'm just so sad and beaten down. I try to do the right things in life- be a good mom, bust my ass at work, be a supportive friend. Obviously, karma doesn't exist. She's living this great life and I'm being tortured by her. Where's the karma in that? So, congrats. You're also damaging a boy's life with his mother. He gets to see me cry a lot. I try not to, but sometimes I can't help it. How can I forget Patrick and move on if she's constantly reminding me? You'd think she'd want me to forget him. You'd think she'd have her own shit to do. Apparently not. I don't know how to resolve this. I just want to life my life not tethered to some evil person bent on hurting me for some unknown reason. I want to enjoy being with my son and not crying about some bullshit. He deserves better. So, please, for his sake, leave me alone. I know you're reading, LonelyGirl. However you feel about me, set that aside and bury it. There's a boy that needs his mom in mind, body and spirit. You're killing that spirit and it's not fair to him. He doesn't need to see what you're drudging up out of my soul. Move on with your life and let us move on with ours.

Monday, October 22, 2012

Next stop, tissue boxes on feet

  In the past few weeks, I've become rather reclusive. I don't want to go out and when I do, I'm kind of vagrant like. I leave off the makeup and wear my Gary Oldman glasses. I just want to stay home, read, watch tv and pin things on Pinterest. The only person I want to see is Viggo. Most of the time, I don't even want texts. I feel like telling everyone to fuck off. Who knows what's going on with me?This is quite possibly what a human bear entering hibernation must be like. Not a good thing. The other night, a friend wanted me to go out with her and a former co-worker. I enjoyed their company immensely. However, I didn't enjoy the bar atmosphere in Wheeling at all. In fact, I came home and cried. People were rude and I felt out of place like I was in high school again. I love my friend to death, but sometimes she's a little too blunt and hurts my feelings. We're at the bar while my other friend pays her tab. She sees a guy at the bar and says, "There's that Scottish guy you hit on once.". Thanks, I need reminded of being drunk and flirty and getting turned down. If I need to feel bad and be reminded of my faults, I'll just call my mom. As we're leaving the bar, some guys yells out "Hey, Peggy Sue" in reference to the pin-up look I was donning. I hate Wheeling. I never want to go out around here again. It's just not for me. I  also got mistaken for someone's mother by a very drunken boy. That made me want to die on the spot. My already withering self-esteem has been vanquished. The only people who have made me feel good lately are my friend, Brandi & my recent date, who I'll call, M. Brandi is always there with a supportive shoulder. She tells me nice things & threatens to demolish the souls of those who hurt me. My guardian from afar.
  I have great, stimulating conversations with M. He feeds my need to talk philosophy & life. Plus, he just makes me feel good. I was showing him pictures of the model Mosh, who I am currently obsessed with. Raving about her beauty, he interrupted saying, "You're very, very beautiful". I melted. Whether he was sincere or not, it didn't matter. I needed to hear it. Having never been one for stark reality or blatant truth, I'll take the compliment. I feel down and out of place. I'm hoping it's just the onset of winter coming.

Sunday, October 21, 2012

Cat lady or confirmed bachelor

  I've noticed a shift in my dating perspective. I'm not giving a shit. Previously, I would become totally emotionally embroiled in whatever real or imagined relationships I had going on. Now, I could care less. Sometimes, I'm like a man. I can hang out with a guy and leave late at night. I just calmly announce that I'm leaving. Some men seem offended or hurt. Like a woman. The other day I turned down a date so I could go home to read. TO READ. What is wrong with me? This is where the crazy cat lady part is coming out. I'm enjoying being alone. I watch a lot of "Cats 101" on Animal Planet. My only saving grace is that my complex doesn't allow pets. Otherwise, I would probably have 10 cats by now. It seems I'm fluctuating between confirmed bachelor status or crazy cat lady. Neither one is ideal. This doesn't mean I don't enjoy the company of men. I'm still me. I've had a couple of dates with a very intelligent great kisser. I'm eager to see him again, yet, at the same time, I'm not counting on it or expecting it. I've turned off some kind of emotion inside me. I don't care anymore. Like a regular guy. Don't jump my ass, I know all men aren't like that. But, admit it, the majority are. Love 'em and leave 'em. How is one ever supposed to find a relationship with this mindset? Maybe I'm not supposed to get into another one. Maybe this is my evolution. It could be called sociopath dating. Leave all emotions out. It's antiseptic and safe. I'll be at home later watching "My Cat From Hell" and reading.

Monday, October 15, 2012

Can I sleep with you, but not "sleep" with you?

  My friend was telling me about how she doesn't sleep well with her boyfriend in the bed. I jokingly said "Wouldn't it be weird if that was an indicator of how well your relationship was? If you couldn't sleep well together, then it's meant to be. If you sleep well together, then it's doomed." At first, we were joking. Then, as we both really thought back on past relationships, we realized there's something to it. I slept like a baby in Patrick's bed. We snuggled the whole time. It was glorious. We could even sleep on a couch together. Look at how that ended. The same with her previous relationship. Very cozy. Ended horribly. I didn't sleep that well with Bob. We lasted 13 years. I feel like going on dates now and asking if I can sleep in their bed without sleeping with them. Like a slumber party. I feel this won't go over too big with anyone. Guys seem to like the sex part. I could always pretend to be on my period. The ticket is to find that someone I can't sleep with. The worst person in the world to sleep with is Viggo. He throws his arms and legs around. He cracks you in the head. He hogs the bed. And he's the best thing on earth. This theory is fool proof. I'm not saying it works for everyone.  Please, don't shatter my illusions and tell me how well you sleep with your boyfriend/husband. I like my magical thinking. I play these games with myself all the time. Just go with it. I'm going to search for a man that I can't sleep well with and ride off into the sunset. This thought, Pinterest, Snyder's Hawaiian sweet onion potato chips, and my new ghost hunting app are the few things bringing me happiness at the moment. It all keeps me from thinking about how poor, lonely and out of shape I am. The scary thought is eventually trying to fit a man into my weird world. When I get home, I immediately strip out of my clothes into sweatpants. Then, I spend my night watching the I.D. channel, listening to stories of people who have murdered their loved ones. I fall asleep reading with the tv on. This is while wearing my glasses and tape on my forehead to prevent wrinkles. I lay down with my arms folded across my chest like Nosferatu and I'm off to sleep. Not exactly the picture of sexy. But, maybe we won't be able to sleep together and it will work out for the best.

Friday, October 12, 2012


This is the email I got yesterday from good, old LonelyGirl.
"Caught me.
I apologize if my comments made you feel offended. They were meant to be interpreted as tough love, because I care. I will stop commenting on your blog. I got the message. Forgive me. "
Are you kidding me? What a dick. First of all, YOU DON'T KNOW ME! Tough love? So, calling someone an idiot, slut, whore is tough love? I really hope she never has children. I feel I should just notify social services right now, Minority Report style. That's atrocious. Why this girl is so concerned with my life I'll never know. She went so far as to email a guy I went out with. That strikes me more as psychotic rather than concerned. Why the shit does she "care" about me? I could never be a celebrity. Can you imagine someone you don't know involving themselves in your life? Judging you as if they matter? I mean, I put it out there, so judgement will happen. It's cool. Everyone has their opinion. But, to say blithering bullshit like you care about someone after you scathingly insulted them takes some audacity. It truly does. I forgive a lot of shit. Hence, my life with my mother. She's blood. LonelyGirl is about as important to me as my UPS man. When I dyed my hair red, the UPS guy didn't like it. It kind of irked me, but then who gives a shit? Same here. It's like when I was little and my mom would say I was bad. I knew it wasn't true & she just said it because she had mental problems. When this one said I was an "idiot", I just thought "well, that's not true" & went about my day. I'm many things, but not an idiot. I guess I'm just baffled as to why she contacts me & who she is. I'm just not the type of person that people hate. In fact, I'm quite the opposite. People come into work all the time specifically seeking me out. People like my personality. I'm silly and have a goof-ass laugh. It would be like hating Amy Poehler or Natasha Leggero. You may not care for them, but you can't hate them. Obviously, this all stems from jealousy. I have a lot of love in my life. My friends are loyal and very caring. My son is the coolest kid ever. And, I spend a lot of time with attractive men. When they look like a blond Jake Gyllehaal, LonelyGirl gets really irked. Hate all you want. I may not have all the things I want, but that's life. What I do have is beautiful and I wouldn't trade it for the world. I may not have beauty or fame, but I have people in my life that make the day worth living. Sappy, I know, but it's true. LonelyGirl needs punched. I know a list of people that want to do it. And, I don't forgive you. You don't deserve anything.

Wednesday, October 10, 2012

Be careful when you say "sir"

  In the early stages of getting to know someone, you're always feeling each other out. These days, it's mostly via text. We all know that texts can be misconstrued. I have found this out a few times. I like to  say "sir" jokingly like Peppermint Patty's friend. However, I've found that once you say that to a man, he can respond as if you're initiating some S&M thing. All of a sudden, you're getting called "slave" and getting weird responses. I'm not down with that. I never really understood that scene. I like some aspects of it, of course. I'm not a total prude. But, the idea of putting on a collar and losing my identity to be called "slave" is not happening. I remember discovering some things in an ex's drawer when we were first dating. I snuck a peak in a bedroom drawer. It was the first time in my life that I'd ever been high. Hanging tough in that drawer was a riding crop, butt plug and a  ball gag. Panicked, I immediately texted my friend, Amy. We surmised that I wasn't sure of what I saw. I mean, I was on a different planet at that moment. But, I didn't know him that well and I was afraid I was going to be made into a gimp like in Pulp Fiction or get some Ving Rhames attention. The decision was to go back downstairs and nonchalantly act like I didn't see anything. It worked. I got distracted thinking his cat was reading my mind. Later in the relationship, the riding crop was introduced. That was fine. Everyone likes spanking. But, the butt plug and ball gag? No. I don't see the purpose. Who wants to not be able to speak and have droll running down their face? And a butt plug. The only purpose I can see for that is if you have uncontrollable gas. Sexually, I don't want to know. Jesus, that's territory I don't want to explore like North Korea.
  The other night, I jokingly said "sir" in a conversation and it got weird. There was talk of "Master" all of a sudden. I couldn't figure out if he was referring to sadism or satanism. It got a little weird. Then, I realized he was just quoting Master Of Puppets by Metallica. Metallica I can do. If you worship a dark lord or have chains and ball gags, I'm out. I like experimentation, but I do draw a line, especially at being submissive. Maybe I'm too feisty for that. I like a man taking control, but I'm not licking any dog dishes for you. Ew, this is getting way too 50 Shades of Grey for me.

Thursday, October 4, 2012

I have a stalker

  If anyone has read my blog, they've probably noticed comments from LonelyGirl. At first, they were nice comments. She even wished me a happy birthday. They have since become increasingly nasty. Honestly, I don't know her identity. I'm 90% sure it's Patrick's girlfriend. The change seemed to occur after we hung out together a few months back. I'm sure she's suspicious of what went on and honestly, given his history, she should be. Regardless, it's weird that she continues to focus on me. It's pretty funny. She came out the winner in the situation but still thinks about me. Is this because he still has pictures of me on his phone or computer? Maybe. He does, anyway. It's just strange and the sign of someone with something not right in their head. I'm one of those people that generally everyone likes. I never have enemies. To have one now makes me laugh. She's going out of her way to contact people I know. Weird. Nothing better to do? Really? When I'm bored I get on Pinterest or Facebook. I never write hate emails or nasty blog comments. Of course, I'm not crazy. She must be a little jealous of me, also. Why would you focus on someone if that weren't the case? I don't know. It's not going to prevent me from writing or dating or whatever it is that she wants. I'm not different from other girls, I just candidly blog about my life.