Raincheck

Lately I have been so tired I cannot even muster the strength to post. I go to bed tired, wake up tired and so on. I have not had a 'vacation' in I don't know how long and still I keep putting off taking a few days absence from work to re-energize. Don't give me shit when I tell you I'm saving my vacation days until when Beloved has his diverticulitis surgery so I will be there to nurse him back to health. I'm a giver, ok?

I have much to blog about but will put it off for another day. I think Beloved has to work at his second job tomorrow night so I will do my best to set aside that time to click away at the keyboard then.

Dad

Call me a big blubbering baby. Tell me to 'get over it', 'move on', 'grow up' or whatever. Last week as I set at my desk at work and told Mom on the phone that Dad had forgotten my birthday I cried hard. My face got blotchy, eyes swollen, the whole nine yards. I choked out the words and tried in vain to act like I wasn't crushed. But I was. He's my dad for Christ's sake! Yes, I know he was Las Vegas on one of his many gambling trips that he and his girlfriend take and that he 'simply forgot.'

I suppose it's just a reflection of our relationship as a whole.

I suppose it shouldn't surprise me or hurt the way it does. In spite of the fact that at this point in my life Dad and I are the closest we've ever been emotionally. But 'close' to me is a relative term. I am not a Daddy's girl.

My relationship with Dad is probably not that different from anyone else's. At least no one that I know. We're not particularly close but not emotionally distant either. By the time I was born Dad was thirty years old, married with now three children and running his own business. We were living in the town he'd grown up in which was an economically depressed area. He wanted to make money. He wanted to be successful. I'm sure he needed to show his father that the business he had purchased from him wouldn't flounder and fail under his ownership.

My dad was driven to make money. All of my earliest memories of him are of him working. One of my most vivid memories is me being small enough that I used to attach myself to one of his legs (wrapping my arms and legs around his calf and ankle) in an effort to make him to stay home. He would laugh and say he had to leave and then try to shake me loose. To me, he seemed to always be in some sort of state of working.

Dad wasn't a complete ogre. I also remember him coming to watch me cheer in elementary school or play softball for the fire department in the summer (the extent of my sports playing). But even those activities were tempered by his work schedule.

In the mid-eighties he moved his business to a nearby county and then moved our family to the same town a few years later. By that time my Mom got sick and their marriage began to deteriorate rapidly. He escaped to work even more. He had an affair with his secretary (whom he is still with).

All of his hard work did finally pay off. Dad retired at 50 years old (having sold the business to Queenie) and now 14 years later (due to his hard work and wise financial investments) he's enjoying the fruits of his labor. He takes frequent vacations and his house is free and clear. Still, I often wonder if he is really happy.

So on Father's Day I will try not to dwell on all the things he wasn't. Dad taught me many good things and for that I am grateful. Still, I am wishful to have the kind of father-daughter relationship that Beloved has with Princess and Lovely. The one where your dad seems to need you as much as you need him. The one where there is mutual respect. In my heart I am a Daddy's girl wanna be.

A First

'Bob' and I are going to give it a go on the 2nd job thing. It's not as steady of work as I'd would have liked but at least it's good money when it does happen and I don't have to claim it on taxes if I make under $600 a year from him. Not that I'm wanting to make less money but I'm just sayin'.

This weekend the family was supposed to gather at Queenie's house for Father's Day, but Meanie asked (ok, she just informed everyone invited) that because of FarrahHair's work schedule that it would be best to postpone the Father's Day get-together until sometime in early July. Of course the Fourth of July is early July but I'm assuming she means the weekend following that holiday. Whatever. I was actually relieved since I'm still hurt by my dad failing to call me on my birthday. I would have gone and put on the 'neutral' face of not caring one way or another, but now I don't even have to do that. Yippee!

So instead Beloved has invited me to spend Father's Day with him and the girls. I told Beloved that he needs to talk to Princess and Lovely first and listen to their opinions on the situation because after all, it is Father's Day. I'm in no hurry to shove myself down their little throats with 'getting to know each other' time. Beloved is their dad and I don't want to intrude on that. Cherished is spending Father's Day with Worthless Sunday, at his grandparents house so if I don't go with Beloved I will be spending Father's Day alone. Which I don't have a problem with. Ok, actually I would enjoy the alone time but I'll just keep that little tidbit between you and I.

Tonight Beloved is working his second job and won't be home until later this evening and Cherished is already at his grandparents house so I am chilling at home. Alone. And I know before I may have bitched about being alone on a Friday night, but now...well, I'm not even sure what time frame 'before' is referring to. Lately I have been 'not minding' the alone time. Even during the week while Cherished is gone at my mom's house and Beloved has been taking his girls to Vacation Bible School and I have found myself working out at the gym or chillin' in front of the TV, it has been rather peaceful. And quiet. And more tensionless.

Tensionless...is that a word?

Results

I have never done a 'bullet' post yet, but it seems to fit my mood and random thoughts today. But I don't know how to put bullets in my post, so I guess dashes will have to do.

-My.Birthday.Sucked. Ok, it didn't suck as bad as it could have, but still, it was lame. Maybe my expectations were too high.

-Beloved is officially divorced and yet I could take no pleasure from Wicked's obvious misery. Beloved said she cried through the whole hearing (which mercifully was only about 5 minutes).

-While sticking his head out the car window to spit, Cherished's glasses flew off and onto the interstate Sunday. Really. I couldn't make this up if I tried. All I could find of them was the bent frames and no lenses. That's another $300 that I don't have but will have to shit so my son can see.

-Saw Ocean's 13 yesterday. It was ok. Long winded, but at least better than Ocean's 12. Getting to look at Brad Pitt do anything on the Big Screen is always a plus.

-My dad did not call me on my birthday yesterday. It's funny how even though at 34 years old I still want to think that my birth was a big enough deal to my dad that he would at least call me and wish me happy birthday.

-Queenie and Meanie also forgot to call me, but I can forgive them. Beyotches!

-I want to go home now. I want a do-over.

Rock and a Poor Place

You know how I've been lamenting about my poorness and lack of 'the green' stuff lately and my search for a 2nd part-time job has yielded no results? Well, tonight an offer presented itself and I'm not sure how to proceed.

A person I work with on occasion (but doesn't work 'for' my company) called me at home. I'll call him Bob. Roused me from a sound sleep in a panic because he needed my help with his job that involved what I do for a living, which I ended up doing and making $100 for about 3 hours of my time. No, it wasn't illegal. No, it wasn't sexual. Without going into a lot of details about what I do for a living let me try to give you an example of my problem.

Imagine you are a bulldozer driver and you work for Diggers "R" Us. You work full-time and do your job very well. While working for Diggers "R" Us you get to know the Bob. Bob owns a construction company that could use an experienced bulldozer driver on occasion and would like to hire you. As in moonlighting. Bob doesn't want to try to hire you in any way, shape or form that would take hours away from your job at Diggers "R" Us, just a couple of times a week in the evenings when your shift with your employer is over. And you would not be using any of the bulldozers from your job, Bob would supply you with one of his. Bob knows and you know this would be considered a conflict of interest with your boss at Diggers "R" Us, but how much say-so do they have over how you spend your time after you leave work? And did I mention the money is really good?

What would you do? If you go to your boss and ask and they say no, and you do it anyway, you could be fired. If you don't go to your boss and they find out you're moonlighting you could be fired.

See the problem?

And I don't want to jeopardize Bob and his relationship with Diggers "R" Us. He doesn't either. When he called me tonight it was only because it was his last resort. If Diggers "R" Us thought he was trying to steal away their employees, they would stop using him. Bob also knows this. He doesn't want to rock the boat either. But I'm also charging less per hour than other bulldozer drivers so he has the potential to increase his own profit on every job that I do for him. It's a conundrum.

While analyzing my problem a particular phrase comes to mind...

'It's always easier to beg for forgiveness than to ask permission.'

Does that apply in this case?

Backwards

What is your greatest regret? Awww, come' on...everyone has one or two or a thousand. 'Fess up.

Mine would have to be college. Or, more specifically not going to college.

Oh sure, I could go back now but it's really not the same from what I hear. I mean I should have gone while I was still single, child-free and before my 'life' got started.

Looking back, I don't remember specifically why I didn't go after graduating. That summer I had spent in Europe with Meanie but we were back in the states by the fall, which was plenty of time to start. My mother had just got remarried to her 3rd husband (3rd husband, but 2nd man considering she married & divorced my dad twice) and I was uncomfortable living back at home with them. We got into it about something one day so I moved out & in with Dad. But Dad lived with his girlfriend and her 2 kids and even though we all got along fine, it was still too crowded. Finally after many months Meanie got a little singlewide in town and I moved in with her.

Still, I did not start college. I don't remember even being remotely interested in going. Probably because of not having money to pay for it. Now I know I could have gotten grants and student loans and all those wonderful debts, but really...what in the hell does a 19 year old know? Lemme tell ya...NADA. You couldn't tell me nothing at the time, about the importance of college and the impact it would have on my financial future.

Seems all I was concerned with at the time was getting a lame job and partying with my friends. Which of course now I realize I could have been doing while I went to school. But I didn't. And I think also in the back of my head I was rationalizing that I was going to get married soon and have someone else take care of me.

Yeah, stupid.

Where did I get this retarded idea? Certainly not my parents. Did I mention that they are both college graduates? Mom's got her freak'n Masters Degree. And yet not one of her children has went farther than high school. Oh sure, both Queenie and Meanie made attempts to go to college, but they both dropped out.

But I didn't even attempt to go. Instead I partied a year and half with my friends while working in a women's retail clothing store in the Mall. Remember the clothing stores called Jean Nicole? Marianne's? Stuarts? Yeah, I worked for them. And I liked the job and found I was good at it, but it paid nothing and demanded 45+ hours a week and I was only the assistant manager.

Still, even this didn't spur me on to see the bigger picture. All those corny cliche commercials are true: college grads do earn more. Now, I feel it's too late.

Regret. It's my own four-letter word.

Now

After Queenie left that night I went inside and contemplated going to bed, but I knew sleep wouldn't come anytime soon. So I sat on the couch and thought. About not only the night's events but the entire relationship for the last year and a half.

Dating a married man is not for the faint of heart and not something I would recommend to anyone. But you don't always have the say-so in who you fall in love with. I'd watched my parents marriage finally fail due to infidelity and swore I'd never do that, and look where I was now. The man who'd cheated on his wife had now cheated on his girlfriend. Dr. Phil has said that the best way to gauge future behavior was look at past behavior. Was Beloved just a skirt chaser? Was this a flaw in his character that was a part of who he was, or was this just a lapse in judgment? I didn't know.

And what about what he'd said about not meeting any of the women he chatted with? Was that true or also a lie? My gut said it was true. Of course, nothing at that point was for certain. I just knew that my heart was breaking but in some way I deserved it. I imagined how Wicked felt when she realized what was going on between Beloved and myself. I wondered what kind of lies she told herself to make it less painful. What kind of lies he had told to appease her.

It was nearly four in the morning when my phone rang. Beloved had walked the two miles back up the street to the nearest payphone.

I need to talk to you. Can I come over?

Right at that moment I just wanted to slip in a coma and die, but the initial shock had worn off and I said yes. I met him on back out on the front steps of my apartment building. We talked for the next hour. About everything. Mostly he talked and I listened. I found I had very little to say.

Beloved stayed the night, lying next to me in bed. He initiated sex and I complied. Our first and only sympathy fuck. It was awful. I knew I could have turned him down and he would have simply fallen asleep spooning me. But nothing is ever that simple. If we were going to try to work things out then sex seemed a good place to start. We were always good together that way. And I felt that I had invested too much in the relationship to let it go so quickly, no matter what had happened. I'd moved 40 miles from my hometown to be near Beloved. Had up-rooted Cherished from another school for the upteenth time. I just couldn't bring myself to kick him to curb just yet.

The next morning I made up a lie about being sick and puking all night to Cherished, and ran him over to Queenie's house so she could take him to my nephew's birthday party that was still scheduled for later that day. I was exhausted emotionally and didn't feel like I could fake everything being ok. Beloved probably could have but I didn't have the initiative. Beloved had to run to his house the next morning to meet with his dad, and after he returned to the apartment went back to bed thinking that when I came back I would crawl in next to him. I had told him I would, but when I returned to the apartment the coffee started to kick in so I sat on the couch and watched TV. Around noon he awoke and joined me.

I told him if we were going to try to work this out that he would need to accept things were never going to be the same between us. Maybe we'd come out stronger for it, maybe not, but regardless my love had changed. I wasn't going to withhold love from him or build walls or do the things he expected me to (like revenge cheating), but I needed time to heal. I would need time to tell me if this relationship was salvageable. Only time would be able to do that.

We've spoken of the texting episode since then many times. He has admitted he really has no reason for why he did it. He doesn't know, or if he does he doesn't say. He did say it had absolutely nothing to do with me, as in how I treated him, my appearance, or our sex life. I'm not entirely sure I believe that, either. Do people really stray who are happy with their partner? I think of the movie Fatal Attraction, and Michael Douglas's character seems to say so. He had a beautiful wife and family and when given the opportunity fucked Glenn Close's character silly for a weekend, seemingly because he could.

Makes me wonder. Makes me question everything about relationships and whether or not you are meant to find someone you can spend the rest of your life with and be happy. Is monogamy a myth? Are we meant to be with one person or many? How do you know when you've found 'the one'? Is there just one?