I Traded In My Rose Colored Glasses And This Happened

[Author’s Note: I usually embrace humor in my writing. Because who doesn’t love a good snort of ginger ale up their nose? This is a serious piece about my emotional state, past and present. You don’t need to read it. But I so needed to write it.]

I was never a big fan of Facebook. I was into blogging and tweeting and life was good. Until it wasn’t anymore.

The Search For My Words

I’ve been a blog-lite blogger lately. Oh, yeah. And by “lite” I mean about 1000 miles away from being motivated to move fingers over my keyboard.

Having your marriage shit-canned by a bad guy douchebag can have that affect on a person. But, hey! On the plus side, he’s now someone else’s problem.

But it’s been hard, sitting at my laptop to have this happen:

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2016: My Year Of Hella No

What. A. Year. It began with a man I loved and a three month trip to Italy.

It ended with me finding out the man I loved is a lying cheater with no soul. Oh, and dead eyes. (I just realized this as I was writing this post.) A man who came with me on that trip to Italy just so he could “hook up” with the wife of a couple we met on our first trip to Italy. After a year and a half of sexting, and texting, and secret emails, and private Skype calls, I finally found out what was going on and he’s no longer part of my life.

(I’ll wait while you scrape off that mental layer of eww.)

The Conversation

“I love you,” he said.
Out loud.
It’s been six months since I’ve heard those three words.

“You are my love,” he said.
Spoken. Overheard.
I stood still. Listening.

Your Partner Is Cheating In A Long-Distance Affair. Does That Make It Okay?

Sounds like the title for a trashy novel. Or a poorly scripted “Lifetime Movie.” Sadly, the story I’m about to share is not fiction. It’s real and it’s painful. I went back and forth about whether I wanted to put down in words what’s been happening in my life the past few months. My first reaction was to set this blog to private, close down my Facebook account, curl up and whimper.

But then I thought…why do I have to give up something that’s given me so much enjoyment over the years? What did I do that my first instinct was to shut down and hide like I’d done something wrong? That makes no sense but it was my response to the pain of betrayal.

I want to see more REAL men. Preferably NAKED REAL men.

Ever stood in a drug store and counted the number of magazines for women on the shelves? I have and had to use my fingers AND the fingers of the woman standing next to me.

It made me want to hurl, people. Right into my Prada Payless purse.

Where were the magazines for REAL men?

Many were fashion magazines featuring bone-thin girls younger than some of my shoes. Wearing something that I’d mop the floor with, along with expressions of what I considered haughty disdain.

But maybe they were just hungry?

Female health magazines were plentiful. But really, editors should take the time to learn how to text each other. Depending on which magazine you decide to buy, you could end up:

1. Drinking too much water.

2. Drinking not enough water.

3. Drinking the wrong kind of water.

4. Only drinking water from icecaps around Iceland.

5. Only drinking water from icecaps around Iceland flavored with bull testicles. (TRUE STORY.)

By the time you finish taste testing, you could have drowned.