I Want to be With You, Even Though It's Always Your Fault

It's Saturday night, kids.  The air is so heavy and exhausted with humdity and heat that it's pulled up its small molecular butts to some atomic bench that I can't see.  

I've poured an Erdinger into the only beer mug that I own.  I purchased it at the dollar store because a standard sized beer will not fit into any glass I own unless I stick it in my to go coffee cup.  This idea does not please me as I feel the two items are quite separate, coffee and beer.  Little did I realize that when purchasing the mug at the store it was one weight.  Once I got it home and it sat around and knew that it was now matched up with a household, it let itself go and got heavier.  The bottom line with this mug is that although it holds my beer nicely, I need two hands to bring it up to my mouth.

I am somewhat happily being a little Farmville robot while I have PBS on.  It's one of their fund drives where if you donate $3,000, they will send you a tin of popcorn.  

Tonight they are playing Celtic Thunder.  This is like a segmented Man Boy Band.  Instead of one dude doing all the singing and the others acting like goon puppets behind him, these guys come out one at a time and own a song.  Then maybe they'll come out together on one.  However, there is no dancing.  Oh no....the passion here is not in any showy type of body movements.  The most movement they do is suddenly realize they've been standing in one spot for the time it takes to cook a Swanson TV Dinner - in a conventional oven - and then take a few steps over and plant there for the second Swanson dinner. 

The passion is, in my opinion of the humblest of observations, is about 70% in the facial expressions, limited mostly to the eyes, and 30% in the expensive, tight and mildly shiny trousers they are wearing.  They appear suspiciously purposely arranged - the trousers I mean.

They even carry a tiny Irish eunich with them and he is rather adorable.

Moses the fruit fly just walked across my beer.  He's in a good state tonight that I am observant and OCD enough to examine the surface of my beer before imbibing.

I should mention that the longer I watch these Celtic Thunder studs, there is one Alpha Stud.  He's blonde and has one of those supreme modern boy hair cuts..the kind where it's longish and is styled to look free and unstyled.

Today was yet another day of dark depression mixed in with the healthier moments of granola that are the blessings that a break will give you.  But I took the Teen-a-ling for a grueling seven minute walk in the heat to the deli to get us mozzarella, basil, balsamic and olive oil sandwiches.  We ate outside and watched the brave sparrows try to get close when we'd throw bread on the ground.  Ok, "we" didn't throw bread on the ground.  I took a piece of bread off of her sandwich and threw it down.  

This child would not have survived the same schedule or activities that I took part in 30 years ago.  She complained the entire way home (all seven minutes) about the heat.  

So I took her on to a beach down the road to see if they were open yet.  She had a great time hanging with other kids, tangling herself up in the gross seaweed and digging in the sand full of goose poop.  I decided to walk on the small pier like walkway.  It's slim!  It goes out over my head!  I started to feel panic.  Then I looked at the camera in my hand.  What if it falls in the water?  I wrapped the string around my wrist.  What if I fall in the water?  I quietly played this out, realizing that I obviously would be fine.  I would just be grossed out with the seaweed caressing my whole body as I tried to get out.  I realize that I just wrote 'caressing' like it's a good thing.  Make no mistake, it would be more like grabbing, pulling, diabolically attempting to pull me down into the nine foot depths of the underworld.  

I heard footsteps coming up behind me and turned around to see a woman with her camera and I jokingly said to her that I was getting a little freaked out and without a second thought she slid her arm into mine and said "Then we'll go together!"  Wow. What a great moment! That just makes me realize how much secure of a personality I need to be.  

It was peaceful too.....I read some Wall Street Journal on and off while listening to bird songs, thunder, Latino Pet Shop Boys echoing from a distant radio and kids doling out their ideas on how to handle the interim while waiting for the No Water due to Thunder ban to lift.

When I got home Flip was waiting in the driveway, having come back from a hike with his dog. He handed me a note that he'd written on a lotto form.  It was a short but heart jerking note.  We unfortunately don't get along after about six sentences each in person.  That's probably one reason why I moved out.  But it hasn't gotten better since his DWI. Besides going away on vacation when he stayed here and I went to Arizona, this is the longest we've gone without um, seeing each other in the buff.  And I must attest to it sucking.  

But that's part of letting go, right?  

So we are awkward.  I tried to call him to say hi.  And that's all that happened..."Hi." Silence.  Then..."hi.".  Then me announcing that I called to say hi.  Then silence then we got off the phone after he thanked me for the call. 

What is there to hang on to?  What am I doing?  I believe deep down and have had it backed up by friends that yeah, what he did was disrespectful directly to me.  I honestly can't live with purposeful disrespect.  He mentioned that he went out that night because he was "bored, lonely and needed to boost his self-esteem".  I'd bet money in an alternate universe that had it been me that this happened to, I would be made to feel like a desperate whore that couldn't keep her pants in tact.  He denies this.  I've been with him for nearly three years and through 500 fights.  So I'm aware of what his cause and effect are really like, no matter how he thinks he can spin this to seem like I'm overreacting.

He reminds me so much of a cult leader at times - he can make me feel like crap and that I've done all this despicable stuff and while my head will be spinning from the latest accusation and subsequent branches of trail off and diversion into  his new complaints and character attacks on me, he'll do something like write the note above.  Sigh.  I hate this.  He's no good he's no good he's no good...baby he's no good.......(for me).