The Ex-Queen of Wallowing
I’m pissed off. No seriously honestly very upset. Mad at the Boy. Why you query? The Boy has had the audacity to prevent me from wallowing in self pity. Can you imagine! The nerve. Seriously. I used to be the Queen of wallowing. I think I once received a silver medal in the sport.
My unique breed of wallowing tended to involve large bowls of chips mixed with peanut butter ice cream (disgusting yes but effective), sappy movies, and lengthy one sentence male hating poetry with flowery prose. For example: “I sail in the ocean of black despair unattached to an umbilical cord seeking refuge from the light yet longing to be attached to the evil male genitalia.” You have to admit its good right? I tell you I rocked self pity, self loathing, pointless anger, male hating, and wallowing.
And look at me now, reduced to a pile of happy colors and shinny outlooks. It’s despicable. Even my friends tell me so. The cynic won’t even come to me anymore to fulfill her need for serious no bullshit screw all boys advice. I am now known to say things like “everyone finds the right person eventually.” Blech! What have I come to!?!? What will become of me?!?! Without my anger I am no one!!
This really is a serious problem. I mean my whole identity was tied up for so long with being the single, angry, bitter, male hatter that I have no idea what to do now that I’m not that. I actually caught myself getting upset about it last night on the way home from a lovely night of dancing. I mean here it was a Tuesday (blach), I’d had a crappy day at work (double blach), I was PMS’ing or some such (triple blach) and I was tired. I should have been wallowing. I had even tried to wallow earlier in the evening in the presence of the Boy. But in attempting it I ended up feeling guilty because he was in such a good mood that I didn’t feel like ruining his night with my wallowing. Besides I reasoned, what did I really have to wallow about? WAIT JUST A MINUTE!!!! I was the QUEEN of wallowing. I didn’t need a reason to wallow. What was all this about? Was it possible that the Queen of wallowing actually cared more about someone else then she did about her own misery? Was that even feasible?
So there I was a Tuesday night facing, exhausted, PMSing, bad day having ex-Queen of wallowing all by myself in my car crying. Not because I was wallowing but because I really had nothing to wallow about. The bottom line is that at the end of the day everyone needs the occassional good woalow even if the only thing one has to wallow about is one’s inability to wallow.
Week of May 21-25
HERO MONDAY- Or Monday
Skip work in order to fly back from Chicago on the flight with the women who will not shut her mouth and is, no joke, seriously much much more annoying then the two children ages 6 mo and 2 years old ridding next to you. Delay = missing Hero’s finale. Damn! But…. Luckily god loves us and she invented Tivo. Spend several minutes after the finale pondering the meaning of life, and the reasons why The Boy isn’t really a Hero despite his desire to be one. Giggle at that thought as you step into the bathroom discovering that the bathroom door in this dilapidated 50 year old house you are sharing with a male roommate doesn’t seem to want to close. And because you are brilliant and because it is midnight you attempt to force the door close. Succeed at forcing the door close only to make a seriously important philosophical discovery: “Forced doors sometimes don’t reopen!” @!*#!!!! Where was Nitche Nitzsche (or whatever he is called) BEFORE you shut the door. Spend a few minutes trapped in a very very small bathroom contemplating what you would do if you were still dating the boyfriend who refused to spend even five minutes at your house after taking a vacation with you because he “needed his alone time!”. An hour later as the door comes flying open revealing a scantly clad Boy with a hammer using numerous curse words, you smile because you realize that the The Boy really is a HERO, even when he doesn’t always believe it himself.
JUST TUESDAY – Or Tuesday
Almost miss the deadline for filing the submission you have been working on for two weeks. How exactly does that happen? Submit it with five minutes to spare just in time to realize you have reversed the order of two of the documents in the submission. With tail between legs you tell your boss so that he has the pleasure of telling you “it’s ok but just remember that when we work on important cases like this we like to get this done correctly (emphasis added by him!)”. Stomp on your own toe so as to prevent yourself from saying “gee thanks cause you know I was taught in my 22 years of formal education that when submitting important documents it always adds a bit of character to screw something up just a tad. Have a great day”. Escape… run to Swing class just in time to introduce The Boy to dance partner who once might have had a crush on you. All decide to eat dinner together in happiness. Run home to giggle with male roommate who figured out a way to make the bathroom door not stick and actually put the doorknob back on so as not to be able to stare at each other through the large hole (your suggestion was going to be a tennis ball but whatever, if he wants to be practical… fine!!!).
LEGAL ILLEGAL INSANITY – Or Wednesday
Day dull!!! Hell nothing at all happened. Only one crazed illegal threatening to kill your co-worker. Starting to wonder if perhaps it is a good idea to purchase bullet proof vest? Hmmmm… those things kinda make your butt look big however so maybe not. Crazed illegal number two will show up in court tomorrow. This one isn’t too bad though, he just thinks the German government bought his wife an adulterous lover so she would sell him out (ie get a protective order against the nut). However the adulterous lover gave her (and you presume him) AIDS. (I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried people). Rest of the day spent writing about crazed illegal number three – the one who fell out of her chair sideways and proceeded to flail on the floor for a good ten minutes immediately after you asked her if it wasn’t true that she didn’t “remember” the “horrible incident” that occurred to her back in the day until right before she walked into court. Fascinating how that memory thing works!!
You reveal these tidbits to the British ex who has decided it is his duty to make you “his friend”. He suggests a mini series. You laugh but start considering it. What would a pilot about insanity look like?
THE M WORD – Or Thursday
The Boy informs you that he has recently discovered that he is experiencing “burn out” at work for the first time in his career (did we mention he is 34!!). You want to say “welcome to my world buddy” but instead send back a sweet sensitive e-mail that involves loving phrases such as “get over it buddy!!!”. He loves it You then spend the rest of the afternoon scanning the blog pages of aforementioned friends to see just how many times they mention you (because you are just that vain). Then you start stressing about the fact that in the last week three ex’s who you have not spoken to or heard from in over a year have decided to make contact. It occurs to you that perhaps your mother was right all along when she said that immediately before you make a big commitment such as the “m” word all your ex’s reveal themselves so you can confirm to yourself that you’re doing the right thing. At this point you begin to sweat profusely and start making plans to drink heavily.
Friday
Still drinking profusely!
I’m Certain I Should Have Started this when I was single
I’m fairly certain I should have started this when I was single. Back in the days when nights and weekends involved hours obsessing over what adorable outfit to wear to the bar in an attempt to capture the attention of the dashing young man standing at the other end of the room right before I pass out and days before I meet him for a proper date and realize he really wasn’t dashing at all. Yeah I’m fairly certain those stories would have been much more interesting. I know this because my girlfriends who are now blogger crazed didn’t even bother to ask me to start my own blog. They asked each other ofcourse because they still have stories that involve deep philosophical questions like why is the current male with geopolitical names such as “Canada” or “Haiti” acting like a complete…well…male. I on the other hand have stories that involve (a) meeting the parents for the first time; (b) the weird illegal who threatened to kill my co-worker; (c) the true significance of the Hero’s finale (a show which my significant other (who never did have a geopolitical name)) forced me to watch. My life really isn’t that interesting. Still, I will NOT be shown up. So damn it I will write a blog and you will all love it!!!!! And if you don’t, well I might just send the crazy illegal to your house.
P.S. Bonus points if you can figure out what I do? J
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