Slap & Tickle

Who doesn’t like a little slap and tickle sometimes? I know I do… just saying. I mean some of the best sex is when it’s a little rough, but always with love behind the action. So when does it go over the line?

The line is when it is done in anger and violence. It’s never all right to hit someone in anger, either for a man or women, it does happen both ways. There is something seriously wrong in a relationship when any form of violence occurs. Even the vulgar, insulting comments, verbal abuse should never happen either, it’s the same thing. If you think your abusive comments are acceptable because there was no physical force behind it, you’re delusional. Yet everyday both men and women for some reason try to hold onto people even though their actions and words prove their incompatibility. It’s because it always comes with the tickle right behind it, the sorrowful apology with the “you know I’m not really like that”, “I love you, you know I do”, “I’ll never do it again, I promise”. Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me. Shame on me!

I have a new friend who’s come into my life recently. She’s gorgeous, feisty, independent, and self-assured; let’s just call her Saffron. What a silly name but it suits her, the delicate thread plucked from the center of the beautiful purple bloom of the crocus flower. When used properly and treated with respect and grace can enhance a meal. (LMAO, she’s dying laughing while reading this. I’m also so hungry right now, I’m obviously just thinking about food but she’s stuck with it now).

Anyway, she was telling me about an incident she recently had with a guy. Saffron was defending his girlfriend; he was making insulting comments about her. When Saffron spoke up he turned it on her, he started insulting her looks, job, family status, saying she was old and had to travel halfway around the world just for a boyfriend. Bizarre, horrible stuff, right. Saffron handled him though, wasting a perfectly good martini by throwing it in his face and pointing out that her boyfriend is halfway around the world because he’s defending our country. She’s a badass! My idol.

However, he’s not the only man I’ve heard of being this way recently. When I was seeing HD, we were out watching a football game and one of his friends stopped by our table to talk. He made a comment about a woman he was seeing, something like “Yeah, just wine em, dine em, use them up and three weeks you’re outta there” My teenage son was sitting there and he looked at me in disgust.

So is that the new deal? Misogynistic assholes who think its ok to be degrading? Ok to slap you when they don’t like what you say or insult your looks, age, whatever they can pick apart. It may seem like that is whats out there these days BUT I know better. Men behave that way toward the women they are dating because they’re insecure in themselves. That’s why that asshole attacked Saffron. He tried to lower her self-esteem. However, he couldn’t, strong women don’t allow themselves to be abused. There are strong secure men out there, we just have to be strong, secure, happy women first.

The truth that I must face for myself is the men I’ve allowed to be in my life since Zed died have not been good to me because I’m not making good choices. I’m not ready to date, that’s why I’ve run from the good guys and held onto the ones that haven’t been good to me. I feel a little lost without my husband and don’t feel good about myself. Nevertheless, I’m getting there because I’m not accepting the bad anymore and have moved on.

Real love is sweet, kind, peaceful and giving. I know it’s out there, I do believe in love. I’ve taken enough psychology classes and I’m smart enough to know what I’m doing wrong. Maybe some more time alone will get me completely there.

I’m almost ready for the Slap & Tickle…but it’ll be the fun kind, you know when it makes you laugh, not cry.

Love,

g

Chutes & Ladders

This classic childhood game is so illustrative of how life can play out. Remember playing when you were a kid? I couldn’t stand hitting the chutes, it took me away from my goal of winning. When I’d land on a ladder, I would get all excited to climb up and get ahead of everyone else. However, we never know when there is going to be a chute or a ladder. I lost my husband over 30 feet, those 30 feet came from falling off a ladder; no chute was there to break his fall. He didn’t get to enjoy an easy ride down a slide and work all over again to climb his way back up to the top.

Since Zed’s fall I’ve climbed a little and I’ve slide down a lot. The last four months have been mostly climbing and learning to be happy with all that I have in my life. Some days are tough, I miss Zed, I cry over the pain from QJ or the stress of raising 3 kids sends me down a little chute. However, most I the time I’m ok.

I’m continuing to climb back up the ladder. Unfortunately I’ve hit another chute. I’m no longer seeing the guy I’ve been seeing for the last couple of months. It makes me sad, he has been a part of my life for a while but sometimes it just doesn’t work. I hope that we will be able to remain friends. It may take some time though.

I’ll start the climb again tomorrow. Tonight I’ll hang out at the bottom.

Love,
g

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Where’d Ya Go???

Hola!!!

Yes, I know it’s been a while. I’ve really been busy with life the last few weeks, but more importantly I’ve been dating someone!  NO! I did not meet this person on Match.com. Wow that was interesting, definitely not for me! I went on one date for lunch and that was all it took, weirdos everywhere. When he started talking about what we were gonna be doing together in August, 15 minutes after I met him, I couldn’t wait for it to be over. Forget it!

So the guy I’m seeing asked me not to write about our relationship, which may change at some point but for right now I’ll honor his wishes. Sorry! We’ve had several conversations that I needed to continue to write my stories and tell about my past and how I go here. He understands and said “go for it, I want you to write!” He doesn’t want me to write about us because he’s been around through all of it, seen me at my worst. We’ve been at our worst together too. It’s a work in progress.

I’m still writing about QJ, way cheaper than a therapist.  I’ve been working on the story of our last conversation; which was in January of this year. It’s difficult and brings up a lot of memories and emotions but it’s putting me in a better place.

I’ve also got some events, activities etc to write about as well. So I’m gonna start to try to write more often. Although I’d like to say everyday, I know me and that is not gonna happen. Especially while I’m planning a graduation party for my son, summer swimming starting and all that comes with this time of the year.

More to come soon…

By the way, Brazilian Wax by Claudia has opened a new shop on Coleman Blvd in Mt. Pleasant! Woo hoo!

Love,

g

Giddy Up!!

I know I’ve been out of touch in the past few weeks but I’ll write about the events going on in my life, in a soon to be published post.  However, right now I have to write about the events of my lunch break today.

I have one irrational fear, which has developed over the last few years.  This is not something most people would even think about nor worry about, but I do, daily.  I work in a beautiful area right in the Downtown Charleston Historic District.  I feel very fortunate to drive by Rainbow Row every day, to stumble down Chalmers Street on the cobblestone and best of all smell the Confederate Jasmine when it’s in full bloom.  All day long dozens of horse carriages go right past my office window.  I love to listen to the drivers tell their ridiculous and sometimes made up stories.  Seeing these carriages everyday reminds me of one thing and one thing only.  Those horses are disgusting; it stinks of horse piss and manure all year and in the summer, ugh!! Gross.

My fear? To be standing on the sidewalk or crossing the street and have a horse stop, piss near me and to be splashed. I avoid the horses at all cost; I will walk across the street, stop, anything to avoid this from happening. Furthermore, I will NEVER step in standing water downtown, NEVER. I guarantee you it’s full of horse piss. Once on a beautiful, clear, sunny day, I watched a tourist allow his gorgeous, curly, blonde-haired, 2-year-old girl stomp in the puddle outside of my office. I stopped and stared in horror, I couldn’t say anything she was so cute! But damn if that girl didn’t end up with horse piss all over herself. I wasn’t gonna offer any information because then they would have wanted to bring that child into my office to clean her up…no freakin way! Yeah I’m a bad person.

These lovely horses and their carriages provide a quaint way to view and learn about my beloved city; they also know NO etiquette. They just piss and shit at will. They all wear the little diaper sacks so the shit goes in there, but they piss wherever they want. When they do, the driver drops a little half rubber ball on the street with flag sticking out.  The street cleaners drive around and pressure wash the spots with some sort of chemical, that smells just as bad. If you visit a city that has horse carriages and you see one of these, don’t pick it up! I’ve seen people do it “wonder what this is?”

Today in Charleston, it’s gorgeous, 80 degrees, sunny, perfect spring weather, just beautiful. So on my lunch hour I decided to go to my favorite park, sit on my favorite bench, and be quiet. I wanted to reflect on the events of my life over the past few weeks. As I was walking to the park, I was also using my phone, texting, checking email etc. I don’t know how I missed it but a carriage was stopped in the middle of the street and the driver was telling a story. I crossed the street directly in front of the carriage and started to walk parallel to the horse. All of a sudden, I heard it, the forceful splash of horse piss hitting the pavement. I panicked, jumped out of the way, and immediately started feeling my pant legs. The driver makes a lame joke ” haha we just sprung a radiator hose” and the tourist all enjoyed a great laugh at my piss panic. Let me just tell you this; if I had any, even one drop of horse piss on me, I would have needed to be admitted to a mental institution. I would have never gone back to work. But have no fear my pants were dry…this time.

Moral of the story…NEVER text and walk, it could kill you. Also, my irrational fear… is not so irrational.

Love,

g

Living in Brazil

All right, I’ve been a little serious with my writing lately and maybe a little depressing.  Not to worry, my life is wonderful and I’m happy for who and what I have today.  Today’s post is just a little something, to make us all laugh…I hope.

I have lived just north of Brazil for 20 plus years.  Brazil is really the only place to live anymore, and if you are still living in the forest, MOVE!  I do not care how old you are, yes Mom this includes you.  It’s gross, even for men.  Be free my friends, be free!  Besides, if you want anyone to go downtown with you, for you, to you, you better be living in Brazil.

Of course, I’m not talking about the country; I’m talking about the technique.  I have been an avid shaver for decades, a few times a week I shave up the cookie.  (This is a term I learned in pole dancing class, I will explain in another post)  You gotta get real close, this requires doing acrobatic tricks in the shower to get to those hard to reach places.  Yeah, yeah you’re going to get razor burn the first couple of times but eventually that goes away.  I don’t even think about it anymore.  NEVER UP!  ALWAYS DOWN!  Come on people, common sense.

Last summer I was taking a couple of anatomy classes and during lab, we would cut up with the instructor and some of the other girls in class.  One day my lab partner came in a little late.  She sat down and said, “Man, I’m feeling good today!”  Really?  What’s up?  “Girl I just got a Brazilian Wax and that shit is awesome.”  The professor piped in and said “Did you go to Claudia?  I’ve been going to her for years.”  She sure did!  As they told their stories, I was totally intrigued.  I had to give it a go.

I’m giving a huge shout out to Brazilian Wax by Claudia right here in Charleston.  She has several locations and they are all convenient.  Great staff and the price is right!  For $35 bucks, you can go to Brazil for weeks.  NEVER GO MORE THAN FIVE WEEKS, TRUST ME!  I went six weeks one time and I cried.  Really, I cried.  However, I still went back because the benefits are so much better than the pain.

Being an avid shaver and letting the bush grow in before your first wax was difficult to say the least.  Before you can go to Brazil, you’ve got to wait about a week and half to two weeks.  It felt so weird to have hair, yuck.  Arriving at the North Charleston location, this isn’t in the best area, I was a little skeptical but you only live once.  I walked in and it was very attractive, they had recently remodeled the inside.  I was escorted to the waxing room and told you can just lift your dress and take off your panties, lay down on the table and use this to cover up (she should have said, cover IT.)  …it was a washcloth.  Really?  Cover up?

When she came back in, the washcloth was gone in 2.2 seconds.  “Can you spread your legs and make a butterfly, feet apart” Uh…sure?  She then placed a little fan between my legs blowing a gentle breeze on my cookie, felt amazing but all I was thinking was why the hell is there a fan?  I soon found out.  It was a little uncomfortable to be lying there with my vajayjay just hanging out.  She started inspecting my hair growth kind of close; like the zoo monkeys.  “Ok,” she said, “we can do it, you have enough growth.”  Thank God, because at this point I’m not sure I would have gone back.  She went straight to work.

They use a soft wax that doesn’t require any cotton strips to rip it off, it just dries, and then they rip, hence the fan.  So she starts to apply this green wax to my hoo hoo.  Damn that shit is hot!  I was beginning to completely understand the fan now.  They are not afraid to touch your stuff either.  She waited a few moments and she looked at me and said “ready?”  Ok, HOLY MOTHER OF GOD!  I look down and see itty-bitty spots of blood…seriously blood!  Not a lot and not all over, apparently I had a few deep “hairs” this proceeded for about 30 minutes with some tweezing etc.  I felt like a buttered english muffin because she got all the nooks and crannies.  She finally said, “Ok all done, roll over” Huh?  “Roll over” uh, ok?  I roll over, fan still between my legs, bare ass showing.  She said, “Ok need your help now” Uh huh?  “What do you need me to do?”  “Spread your legs, hold your cheeks, and spread ‘em!”  Alrighty then.  When the hot wax hits that most delicate place, it’s a little warm and a very odd feeling.  Forget that there is a woman staring at your bunghole.  I said, “Wow, doesn’t even bother you does it?”  “No I’ve seen thousands, it’s just a job.”  Uh huh, ok, rip, rip… surprisingly that part didn’t hurt, weird right?  “All done, you can flip back over.”  She hands me the washcloth to cover up in case I’m feeling a little modest at this point.  What do I need that for, is there anything you haven’t seen?

This is what I will say; it feels pretty freaking amazing afterward, totally worth the pain and humiliation.  Once I starting going regularly, I no longer cared about some woman touching my cookie and removing the hair from my arsehole. The more you go the less it hurts too.  During the winter, I did go back to shaving but I’ve made my appointment to get my summer smooth back.

Try it you’ll like it…so will he or she.

Love,

g

Belief

I believe in love.  I believe in marriage.  I believe that no matter how difficult the road is, all marriages can survive even the most difficult of situations.  I have a lot of friends who have faced very real and what can seem, to most, as impossible to forgive events.  However, if you are both diligent, choose humility and forgiveness, the best part of your marriage can be on the other side.  Marriage is not easy, if you think it is you have not had your trial yet.  You will in some way, be prepared and choose to love your way through it without losing yourself.

We are all guilty of making poor decisions, giving into our inner desires instead of what is right.  It can be a relationship outside of marriage, a crime, financial difficulties, anything that betrays your partners trust.  I’ve been guilty myself.  I’ve also been the one that has been scorned.  I try to encourage my friends to work through their difficulties, I tell them how wonderful my marriage was after Zed, and I fought through some trials.  The things I’ve experienced and the choices I’ve made in my past have made me who I am today.  I’m not proud of a lot of it.  Nevertheless, I am different because of it all.  I would never make the same choices today.

It was on a Tuesday Morning around 3:00AM in January of 2011, my phone rang, it was a blocked call but I knew it was him; QJ, I couldn’t help myself, I answered anyway knowing I shouldn’t.  I needed to know why?  I still need to know why?  It was only three weeks after he married her, six weeks since my world was turned upside down, only seven weeks since we spent Thanksgiving with my whole extended family.  He played the game well and I was blindsided.

I answered and said “Hello” there was silence but I knew he was there.  I repeated myself several times asking, “Why are you calling?”  Nothing, just silence.  So, I started talking about everything that was going on in our lives, myself and the kids.  I told him of going on vacation, my upcoming trip to Pittsburgh anything, except speak about my daughter.  I figured if I spoke softly and let him know that I still loved him that he would say something.  He never said a word.  I finally said “If you are not going to brave enough to speak I’m hanging up.” so I did.

The next night the same thing, the phone rang, silence…  This time I was angry, I said “the least you could fucking do is say you’re sorry!” that is when the sound came, a grown man sobbing on the other end of the line, pure sobs; I could feel his heart breaking through the phone.  All I heard was “I’m sorry” through the sobs.  I hated him and loved him in the same moment.  My heart ripped out of my chest.  It was validation of what I already knew, he really did love me.  He still was not speaking anything else so I began asking questions.  “Why did you marry her?”, “You could have made any other choice!”, “Why?”  All I heard was “Reilly?” infuriated I said “You lost the right to know anything about her.”, he claimed he loved my daughter as if she were his own.  He said he loved all my children and he would be there for them for the rest of his life.  At least that is what I thought, what he made me believe.  I now know, if that were the case, he wouldn’t have sacrificed them for his own selfish gain.

He couldn’t answer why, in the thousand times that I’ve asked since that first phone call, he’s never given me a reason.  He’s never said he was happy, he’s never said he made the right choice, he’s never said he is no longer in love with me, quite the opposite.  That day began a year of torture for me when all I wanted was closure.  I wanted him to tell me that he chose marriage, that he believed in love, and that he knew he would be happier on the other side with her, that he was sorry for the thousands of lies he told.  Instead, I just got more lies that lead me down a very dark road.

Even today my heart still breaks for the love I thought I had, for the person I thought he was, I still love that person, the one that doesn’t exist.

Love,

g

Mis-Match or Best-Match…We Shall See

Ok so we did it! With a little collaboration, my girls and I set up a Match.com profile.

1. There are a lot of guys with moustaches.

2. You do see people you know on there.

3. They can see if you’ve looked at them and vice-versa… feel like a creeper.

4. Also, feel like I’m trying to get rid of my dog on Craigslist.

5. There is an exchange of money…sooo? What does that mean? Is Match.com my pimp?

I’m hopeful that as I get into this, it will be fun and I’ll meet some nice people. Keep your fingers crossed!

Love,
g

What’s Worse?

I’ve contemplated this question a lot over the past couple of years. Which is worse, to have your heart broken in a failed relationship or to lose your spouse to death? In the past 2 years, 6 months and 18 days I’ve experienced both. How does that happen? Well its simple when you lose a spouse especially one that you are madly in love with all you can do is beg for the world to stop spinning. That feeling still haunts me today, lying in my bed not wanting to deal with school, kids, life, making dinners, friends, phone calls and bills; just needing to be in the moment and grieve. It doesn’t work that way, the sun still comes up every day, the kids still need to be fed, and there are a million things that need to be done. My whole purpose became about making life normal again for my kids, to keep their world spinning smoothly. Holding onto a house, I shouldn’t have, seeming happy when I wasn’t, laughing when I really needed to be crying. In addition, through all of it, I just wanted to feel normal again, to talk to the one I was missing; to feel their touch and have their support. It’s an unexplainable feeling that is different for everyone. To have someone just gone one day is torture. I’d never experienced it before and I live in fear of experiencing it again.

There have been a few men in my life since Zed died. HD, who really was just a blip on the radar and not a relationship. There was BDD who saved my life, held my hair, my hand and my heart for a moment, but I broke his because I couldn’t love him the way he needed me to. The King who has been a quiet presence for a little over a year with his occasional “how are you?” texts, long philosophical conversations & debates, a friend. Ooh and I can’t forget GI Joe…damn! Nothing ever happened with him, wrong time, and wrong place but we had a couple of great moments that still make me laugh. Sure would have liked to know what could have happened there, think he’s just as nuts as me, and only guessing but just as damaged. But today it’s about him, the one that almost took my life. I want to scream his name and expose him for the pain he caused me, my family and friends but I won’t; QJ changed me. He broke me just as much as losing Zed. Sometimes I think it was worse.

QJ’s story will take me several posts to tell. It’s a whole chapter of my life that I’m still trying to resolve in my mind. It was a scandal, sexy, sweet, dirty, and full of wild passionate love, the kind that you only experience once and really never want to experience again. Nevertheless, my mind goes back trying to search for that moment, the one moment I can still feel, where everything I thought I once knew about being connected to another human being changed…forever. I don’t know if I will ever feel that again. I want to, it was an explosion of every emotion I ever felt in one single event that left me happy, sad, crying, scared, ashamed, vulnerable and for once fully trusting another person with the truth of the deepest secrets of my true self. I beg some days to bring that all back but have contempt in my heart for all the events that followed and could never forgive him for the destruction of my life and family, that came with his game. It was all a lie; I was so desperate to feel whole again I gave myself to a man who almost took my life.

At Zed’s funeral we had a receiving line. Everyone came through hugging, crying and sometimes laughing giving their best condolences. I distinctly remember QJ being there. I wanted to be sure that I spoke to him. He sent the largest most beautiful arrangement of flowers, and I wanted to acknowledge them to him personally. I saw him walk through the door, look at us standing there; me and my children. What he did was the epitome of him, he didn’t wait in line, he walk directly around everyone else and came straight to me. He hugged me told me he was sorry turned around and walked out the door. He didn’t stay. I later learned it took all he had to come there, funerals are not his thing.

It was several weeks after Zed passed away when I received the first email. It was two sentences, something like, I’m going to stop by and bring you some brownies and wine. I thought it was a little odd. This man who I’d known for about a year and only had a few conversations with, to email me but everyone was checking on me at that point. The very short emails bounced back and forth between us for weeks. We would talk at our bi-weekly card games that continued without pause after Zed was gone. It was a way for us all to feel normal and to hold onto him. At one of the games we talked quite a bit and he asked for my number, I gave it to him knowing that he was probably interested in more than just being a supportive friend. However, I was lonely and he made me feel beautiful and important. He called me about 3 days later while in California on business, we talked on the phone for hours, until three or four in the morning about everything. It was like a warm blanket had been draped over me all in an attempt to ease the pain. He covered me with that blanket for over a year, all while living another life too.

It will unfold like the pages of a fiction novel, but it’s all real. A story that keeps changing as the days go by and life continues to heal. What a wonderful thing it is to be human and continually learn to be happy with who is present in your life, to find peace in the moment.

Love,
g

The Last Was Best

The last date I had with HD was wonderful; we went to dinner earlier this week, sat close, held hands, and enjoyed each other’s company. We made out in the car when he dropped me off and text each other the rest of the night until I fell asleep. Unfortunately that was our last date. I’m not really sure what happened after that? Sometimes things just fizzle out; he has been distant and aloof since and stood me up this weekend with no explanation or communication. Being stood up is a new experience for me and seemed completely out of character for him but that’s why we date so we can really learn who someone is, I learned something that I wasn’t expecting and can’t accept. He was a great experience and I can walk away knowing that our last date was incredible. He was a sweet, kind, generous man that I’m happy I had the chance to get to know a little.

In thinking about our time together it’s left me remembering the best last date I’ve ever had. As I’m sitting here at the place that Zed, my late husband, lost his life, I can’t remember the last words I said to him. I’ve tried a million times. However, I can remember the last date we had, every detail. Right down to what he was wearing.

The week leading up to Zed’s death was hectic he had been working insane hours. Our little company had been suffering just like everyone else. The construction industry had been crippled by the economy and we had let all of our employees go. Zed was working by himself and making it work financially for our family. He would work outside jobs all day, take a little break then go back out and work an inside job into the night. Crazy thing was he loved it; he had such pride in his work and what he had built for himself.

The kids had been gone for the summer as they usually are and were returning on Sunday. It was our last weekend together before homework, activities and kids took our lives back over. In summers past we went out to nice dinners or cooked gourmet meals at home together; that summer was different we were being very careful with our money and hadn’t been out at all.

It was a Friday night; I had worked all day and was lying on the sofa exhausted from the week. Zed came walking through the garage door covered in paint but happy, excited with his huge beautiful smile plastered on his face. He said “let’s go out, I want to take my beautiful wife out to our favorite place and enjoy how hard we’ve been working.” I of course fought him, saying we couldn’t spend the money. He wouldn’t have it, he said the kids are coming home on Sunday; we have poker here tomorrow let’s just have some time to ourselves. I finally agreed and we got ready and headed to our spot, High Thyme on Sullivan’s Island.

On our way to dinner we stopped by the job site he had been working at for a few weeks, to check on the equipment. He got out of the car and the family came out to greet him. Everyone loved Zed, his clients became friends and he never met a stranger. They didn’t recognize him at first; he was dressed up, clean shaven just handsome. He introduced us and they told me how he talked about me and the kids all the time.

When we arrived at High Thyme we were greeted like we usually were by Emily at the bar and Kenny the owner. We had a drink and laughed with Emily while we waited for a table. We were seated at an intimate table in the back of the dining room where we had an amazing meal and perfect conversation.

Zed was always thinking about life, what he wanted to do next, how to be a better man, husband and father. He held my hand across the table and talked about our kids. They weren’t of his body but he loved them like they were his own there was no difference. He talked about the upcoming school year and how he wanted to be closer to them and encourage them more to strive for their dreams. He told me how much he loved me and how grateful he was for our life together. That he wanted to be a better husband to me. It was perfect all the things that every woman wants to hear.. needs to hear. After dinner we walked out to the beach and were just quiet together walking, listening to the water and enjoying the warm ocean breeze. Holding hands, kissing… In love.

When we got home that night we didn’t make it far, walked in the door making out and ripping off our clothes. We had amazing sofa sex that night; the kind where you’re sweaty and out of breath when it’s all over. Zed was my other half, my balance, never to be replaced always in my soul.

The next morning we were up early and heading out the door; me to the gym for back to back classes and him to the job site for a couple of hours to finish up. I don’t know if I said goodbye, if I told him I loved him, we always did a kiss and an, I love you but for some reason I just can’t remember if we did that day. That afternoon he lost his life and I lost part of mine too…
That was the best last date I’ve ever had.

I love and miss you Zed.

Love,
g