Warning: Whinefest

Blue Eyes told me a few months ago that seeing your ex with a new person is like eating a shit sandwich because it is horrible but you have to stand there and take it. He was right. Chapin hasn’t met Blue Eyes yet but I had to meet Chapin’s girlfriend this weekend as he finally retrieved his things from the $150/month climate-controlled storage unit I’d been renting for him (will I ever see that money back? Doubtful.) What I didn’t realize is that it wasn’t jealousy that I would feel, but a deep, soul-wrenching hurt and self-doubt.

Have I ever mentioned that every man I’ve ever dated was asked out by me? Yep, I’m forward. What can I say? That’s not completely true. I did “date” a few in the summer and earlier in life who asked me out but those were one-time things that either ended with one fun evening and a goodbye or an “Ew, hell no” followed by psycho stalking on their side, not long-term relationships. Ignoring first boyfriend “DJ the Rapist”, there was Matt the “older man” who I fell for during a student exchange trip to Germany. I clubbed him over the head with my wanton ways, made out with him on a transatlantic flight (and got yelled at in front of the whole plane by a classmate – ) and then lost him to a beautiful young thing he had loved all through high school. She was thin and quiet with long brown hair, big breasts and a sweet smile. I remember how shy and uncommunicative he was during the 8 months we dated and then when he finally asked Ann out it was like he came alive. That was the first time I realized that men do have that capability but only with the right person to turn on the switch.

Had a few flings in between, but next up was my first lover at 18, a man whose name I have apparently blocked from my memory. We worked together and I adored him. He was handsome, sweet and, best of all, indulged my silly outdoor fantasies. We dated for a year and then he admitted that he had cheated on me with a waitress at the restaurant where he worked, several times. I was humiliated and devastated.

At college I clubbed a few guys over the head to get them to take me out a few times, went on several Match.com dates but basically was alone until I met Chapin. He teased me, I took him seriously, I asked him out. We dated for 9 months and then moved in together so that he could get out from his cramped apartment and I could get away from my parents’ house. I won’t get into the details of it all but a few months later I asked him to marry me. He said “You don’t have to do that.” And stupid, codependent me insisted that we do it to save him from a bad situation and because, since we were living together, “of course” we would get married eventually. Yep, despite the high(er) self-esteem in work, school, sexuality and other things, my romantic life is my weak area when it comes to confidence. Eight years later and I’ve been slept with and unceremoniously dumped via Internet blocking and no further contact, gone the FWB route only to have the guy decide he preferred to “return to God”, slept with a separated man who couldn’t get it up (ugh), slept with the weird “all you need is me, baby” guy and then asked out Blue Eyes who is a great guy and a lot of fun and puts up with me even as I go through this craziness (he knows I’m nuts and just goes along for the ride and he’s heard all of this before). In the meantime, I need to figure out how to feel like the people I’m with actually want to be with me rather than feeling like I’m just a pasatiempo until something better comes along, as I have been with so many of them (okay, all of them).

The shit sandwich was Chapin’s choice of girlfriend. Some of you know the full story but the other part of it is that she is really pretty. Thin, large breasts, long dark hair and a huge smile. Just like the Lucious Latin Ladies on the porn DVDs he left behind for me to find as I was cleaning up the house. So I guess I should have listened to him when he told me I “didn’t have to” marry him. Or perhaps I should have kicked him out earlier when he brought home evidence of his affair. Maybe then I wouldn’t be sitting here eating shit, feeling blue and wondering if anyone will ever really, truly want what I have to offer, which I feel like is a lot but perhaps not? Blue Eyes and I went out with my parents this weekend and my mother would not stop ripping my Dad a new one in public. My biggest fear is that I will act like that someday. Maybe I already do. I’ve heard that strong, direct women intimidate men. I’m certainly strong and direct but I don’t think I’m a bitch by any means. But something’s making them look for someone else.

Yes, I am going back to the therapist tomorrow for the first time since Thanksgiving. Haven’t been due to finals, Christmas, etc., and boy do I have a lot to share starting with the horrible all-night dream I had this weekend where all the damn self help books I’ve been reading ganged up on me and played mind games all night long. Ick. And I have to update her on Chapin. Sigh… Will this post-divorce rollercoaster ever let me off?

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