There's Always Vodka

Unless I drank it all. In that case, we'll need some more.

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Dating a whole family

Recently, at a job interview, I was talking with another candidate, and we got on the topic of dating men with children. She mentioned that she had two grown children, and was just getting back into dating. She recently started dating a man with children, and was wondering if it would be difficult. I told her that I had no children, but my boyfriend has two. She asked me if it was hard dating a man with kids, so I told her the truth. Yes. It was hard, at first. Sometimes it still is.

I thought long and hard before I said yes to that first date. I knew it would mean that I would never come first in his life, and I was right. Even now, two years later, if there is a kid-friendly event that we plan on attending, he first asks his kids if they want to go. At that point it no longer matters that I want to go. The kids, specifically his son, have final say, because they might get bored.

I can’t complain because I knew what I was getting into. I made the decision to stay and I’m happy I made that choice.

A close friend of mine recently started dating a man with kids, and I couldn’t help but think she was making a mistake. I didn’t know if she could handle not being the center of attention. Thankfully, it seems to be going really well for her, and I’m glad I did not voice my thoughts. I would hate it if she walked away from a happy relationship, because of my experience.

The kids are terrific. They are funny, polite, and well-behaved. They rarely cause me any trouble. Only on occasion do I get any attitude from a 10-year-old girl, who is clearly competing with me for her father’s attention. I can’t blame her. The poor girl is also competing with her 13-year-old brother, and more often than not he wins. It’s understandable, he’s a boy and a mini version of my boyfriend. A gamer and all around nerd. I think his sci-fi geekery is my influence, though. I don’t apologize for that; it makes him cooler.

I’m very lucky to have them in my life. There are, of course, times when everything gets a little too overwhelming. When that happens I go someplace by myself and have some quiet time. Usually, that’s just closing the door to our bedroom, and reading a book. If I don’t close the door I’ll have a little visitor that comes in to talk to me, or just wave at me and then walk away. It’s cute, but not when I’m in one of my moods.

Even though life with my boyfriend and two kids, that are not mine, can sometimes be stressing, I still believe I made the right decision. I’m happier for it.


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Flowers, please

I know it’s late to be writing about Valentine’s Day, but I’ve been catching up on my RSS feeds and coming across a lot of Valentine’s Day posts. I’ve realized that it really bothers me that my boyfriend and I don’t acknowledge it, let alone celebrate it.

We live in Miami, and Valentine’s Day can get a bit overdone here. Actually any holiday is overdone in Miami, but Valentine’s even more so. It is really annoying and commercial, but I’ve never been able to celebrate it. I’m the self-appointed queen of first dates, but I’ve never let any of my dates take me out on Valentine’s. That just seems weird to me. Now I’m in a relationship, and I still can’t celebrate it. Even if we hadn’t both been sick with the flu this year, we still wouldn’t have celebrated.

I might not be that upset about it if there were other romantic moments in my life, but there aren’t. I made a comment once to my boyfriend that he didn’t have a romantic bone in his body, and he said that wasn’t true, but I’ve never seen evidence to support that claim. His excuse is that romance takes money. I don’t believe that, but he won’t listen to any of my suggestions. It makes me wonder if romance is just dead. I hope not, but it’s hard to tell right now.

Our anniversary is next month. He can’t even remember the exact date, so I’m definitely not holding my breath for that one. I don’t need or expect a grand gesture, but I love flowers. It would be nice to get some roses , or a walk through the park. Even a home-made card to let me know he remembers would make me cry from joy. It’s just a little thing that I’ve realized I need right now. It’s been a tough seven months, and I need something to make me smile.

It seems nothing makes me smile these days. I started a self-portrait project last month, and decided to postpone it, because none of my smiles looked genuine. I was smiling, but my eyes weren’t and that wasn’t the look I wanted for my project. I suppose I could have continued with it to document the journey from  depression to joy, but I just don’t know how long that will take and I’m afraid that processing those photos will make it worse.

I’m trying to get back to normal, but it’s been a long time since I’ve felt normal. This might just be my new normal.




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Friends? Yeah…probably not.

I’ve been thinking about friendship lately. Specifically the types of people who make good friends, and those that don’t that we keep around anyway.

We all have that one friend. The one that we may not see for years at a time, but the bond is so great that we are able to pick up where we left off as if no time has passed. They are the people we can always call in the middle of the night during an emotional crisis to listen to us cry. They are our partners in crime (I’m not admitting anything, you have no proof), our best friends, our family. Without them, we wouldn’t even know what real friendship is.

Then there are the “others”. They are the toxic, selfish, self-absorbed people who throw around the word friendship only when it is convenient for them. They are the ones with the “out of sight, out of mind” mentality. They only call us when they need something, because we’re the only ones who haven’t given up on them yet.

Why haven’t we given up yet? It must be more than just the longevity of the relationship. Perhaps it’s loyalty for the one time out of a thousand that this person was there for you. Maybe we are hoping that this person will surprise us one day, and actually call just to say “Hi”. They probably won’t, because there is just no changing a person, nor should there be. Either we accept this person for who she is, flaws and all, or we should move on.

Is there any point in fighting for a friendship that doesn’t really exist? Can it even be called a friendship if it’s completely one-sided? I’m coming to the realization that it may not be worth my time anymore. There are only so many times I can try to explain this concept to someone before it becomes a repetitive exercise in futility. It might just be time to say goodbye.

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Merry fucking Christmas

My heart has been heavy for the past few days. It’s been a difficult Christmas.

A few days ago my boyfriend and I found out that his ex-girlfriend died in an auto accident. It was horrible, and I feel the loss of life deeply. She wasn’t my friend, but she touched the lives of many people, and for that I mourn her loss.

As for me, I hated her, and I can’t stop crying over the times I wished her dead. I have never hated another human being in my life, but I hated her. I still hate her.

It’s hurting me to see how much my boyfriend is hurting. He’s trying to hide it from me, but I see it. After all, he’s the love of my life, and I know him better than anyone – possibly more than he knows himself.

He still loves her, and I don’t blame him for that. I may not like his feelings for her, but I do respect them, and I would never trivialize them. I love him too much, and feel his pain too deeply to ignore the truth.

His memories of her were crushing me during the first year of our relationship. He couldn’t go a single day without mentioning her. Everything reminded him of her. Movies, music, places, art – even the perfume I wore. It hurt me, but I kept quiet and let him talk about her. I understood he needed to heal. I just hope I was able to help him. Maybe I was crazy to try to pursue a relationship with him; I knew he was damaged. I just didn’t realize he was more damaged than I was.

I have my own reasons for hating her. Reasons that affect me greatly, and will not let me forgive her. Reasons that my boyfriend doesn’t fully understand, so he thinks are just irrational on my part. Even now, after her death, they still affect me, and I just can’t let it go.

It’s been almost a week since her death, and this is the first opportunity I’ve had to write about this. My boyfriend is out paintballing with his friends, and I hope he’s having fun; he needed a break. The kids are sleeping in their rooms, and I’m sitting in our bedroom trying to work out my feelings.

My feelings and I have had a tumultuous relationship. I have never been good at expressing them, other than the occasional bitch fest. Okay, maybe more than occasional. I also have never been good at trusting people – at all. I don’t trust anyone but myself. Entrusting my heart to my boyfriend was the hardest thing I have ever done. I gave a piece of myself away to someone who may or may not cherish it as I do. This may not last, and while there is no doubt in my mind that I want to spend the rest of my life with him, I don’t know if he feels the same.

I believe him when he says he loves me, but then again, he’s been quick to say that to a lot of other people before me. There are just no guarantees. I may not be who he wants to spend his life with. I know those are just my insecurities, but this is hard for me.

I know another part of my anger stems from the timing of this situation. It’s the holidays, and this is our first Christmas together in the same house. It was supposed to be special. It was supposed to be filled with joy and promises of a beautiful future. Instead it will always be tainted by her death and the memory of her. It’s just one more thing I will never be able to forgive her for.