Tag Archives: dailyblog

f*ck you carrie bradshaw




I hate you, Carrie Bradshaw. I hate that we have the same problems, date the same shitty men, that you have a closet full of Manolo Blahniks and I have to budget in my Jimmy Choos.

This is not a rant but could easily turn into one.

He broke up with me on a post-it.” ~ Carrie Bradshaw.

My dating life is a series of Carrie Bradshaw quotes, if a very short email is the electronic equivalent of a post-it. Let’s just say, for the sake of my non-rant that it is considered to be the truth in all varying forms of reality. I’m also the writer which means that I get to pick whatever direction this goes. So…

Most men would raise a brow, or roll their eyes, or make some sort of facial gesture (with or without hand involvement) to the Sex And The City reference, in which case, I would like to make two quick points.

1. I’m not writing this for you.

2. It is our femininity, the yin/yang that attracted you to us in the first place.

I think we can just leave this first quote as is, ladies. I received a short and sweet email. No phone call, no face to face, no balls. Make no mistake, there was a part of me that wanted to respond, and a part of me that wanted to light a cigarette. Part of me had a dent in my heart that only his smile, and the way it felt when he held me, could fix. And yet there was another part of me that started to question my actions, my looks, even myself.

When the questioning starts, all kinds of terrible things can happen. Don’t go there.

“When it comes to life and love, why do we believe our worst reviews?”

If you’re anything like me, you’ve either completely ignored my “don’t go there”, or worse, you think… I’m different. I can handle this. It’s a growth spurt of self-analysis. Sure it is, sugar puff. If we continue to question ourselves, a certain phenomenon can occur.

This phenomenon begins with a very tiny speck of a thought. When I say tiny, I’m talking as close as you can become to non-existent without actually being invisible. You’ll suddenly remember your “him” saying something that was completely harmless at the time, and not intended to be anything malicious. You’ll remember him asking, “Hey, what happened to that black dress you wore when we went to (insert name of place)?” Here’s where it gets tricky. Your next thought is… did he only like me in black?… maybe I didn’t wear enough black… he hated the way I dress… black is slimming… he thinks I’m fat… he dumped me because I’m fat… oh god… this is ridiculous, I can’t believe I’m even thinking something so stupid… fuck, he thinks I’m stupid… I need to buy more black…

See what I mean? The thoughts are certainly ugly ladies, but you aren’t.

“Maybe our mistakes are what make our fate.”

Ever meet Mr. Could Be Right while pining over Mr. Wrong? Don’t worry… you will.

There is one thing through all of the trials and tribulations of the heart and the penis that remains intact. And that thing is my dignity. That doesn’t mean that my pillow won’t be stained with mascara when I try to sleep tonight, but it will be a dignified cry. Such a thing must exist… right? (holds head up in gesture)

Maybe you’re only allotted a certain amount of tears per man, and I’ve used mine up.”

Sometimes tears are messy. Sometimes they are soulful. Sometimes they start to roll down your cheek before you even know what hit you.

As I’ve expressed, my pillow will more than likely see some tears, as they have been intermittent post email. There’s some venting in front of me. My tear quota has not been reached… yet. Which brings me to my Mr. Big.

My Big story did not end the same way that it did in the movie. I know! I was just as surprised as you are. Everything up to the actual public acknowledgement of a real relationship was spot on though. The break ups, the tears, the love, the passion, the tears, the laughter, the tears, the pain, the lies, the tears, the cheating; I married someone else, divorced someone else, dated Big again, more tears… that was all the same. It was cut you to the bone awful.

My Big and I definitely needed a new word for “over.”

The last time I found myself hurt by him there were no tears. I literally couldn’t cry. Not one more drop. That was one year ago and that was the day I knew over was really over.

“After a break-up, certain streets, locations, even times of day are off limits. The city becomes a deserted battlefield, loaded with emotional landmines. You have to be very careful where you step or you could get blown to pieces.”

Anyone else narrow their “spectrum of living” grid to a minimum? (Because what you really are gunning for is seeing your ex with someone else… something that’s only a touch more fun than peeling your own skin off.)

Even driving holds the potential for a disaster on two to four tires. Have you ever noticed when you are going through a break-up that suddenly everyone drives the same car as your ex? It could be the most random car ever, but suddenly everyone is driving a 1982 fucking Fiat. What is that, exactly?

“I don’t understand this. I get mugged and you get him? Maybe that’s just my karma.”

My friends that know me well have all heard me say at one time or another, “in a past life I must have killed an ex by running him over with my car. My guy luck and my car luck are the same. They both suck.” I think that statement may just wrap that quote up in a nice little package. Yes?
This brings me to the last quote, and this quote may be the most important of all. It wasn’t Carrie, but Samantha Jones.

So not sexy honey. Dump him immediately, here use my cell phone.”

You see, no matter what you’ve experienced in matters of the heart, no matter how many times it has been broken or how long you were seeing him, no matter how deeply you loved or if it was a new flicker of hope that got extinguished before it’s time, we need our friends to get us through. I hope you all have a Samantha.

We need to laugh, and laugh at ourselves. Find the humor, and most of all find what you need inside yourself.


i’m happy for you

My ex-husband just got married.

Let me start by saying that this will not be a sarcastic, jaded, stab me I was betrayed, I’m a victim vibe. I’ll apologize for my lack of sass in advance. This is about life, love and the big picture. Call it what you want. Call me crazy while you’re at it.

I’m happy for him.

That wasn’t always the case. I’ll admit when I first found out (on Facebook) that my ex-husband was engaged, my ego had a slightly melodramatic temper tantrum. The good news is that I knew it was ego.

I had a sort of “When Harry Met Sally” moment. If you’ve read anything I’ve written you’ll know that I will take any and all opportunities to quote that movie. Remember when she finds out that Joe is getting married? She calls Harry in a tearful frenzy. Harry goes to her place. Her hair is tousled. Snot runs down her face….

Sally: “….he just didn’t want to marry me!” More sobbing. “…and I’m gonna be 40!”
Harry: “When?”
Sally: “Someday…”

My moment was similar.

Perhaps I’m writing this because I’d feel weird calling. Maybe I’m doing it because all too often I hear people say year after year how much they loathe their ex-husband or ex-wife. They may very well have valid reasons. I find it sad. I also know that someone else’s experience is none of my damned business.

My ex-husband wasn’t a bad person. Neither was I. It worked for a while and then it stopped working. We had exactly what we were given. Was there heartache? I can only speak for myself. We both had lessons to learn and pain to grow through. I’d like to believe it was all worth it. I’d also like to believe we have both come very far.ropic2-250x215

I learned that someone will love me even when I sing the Bee Gees at the top of my lungs in the market, and that they’ll still think I’m awesome when I wake up with Tawny Kitaen hair. There are heartfelt memories and some not so sexy memories. (Tawny Kitaen hair gets filed under sexy, by the way.)

There was also a bit of remorse, not because it ended, but because I could have been better in so many ways, although I will never give up being retarded in the market. I learned it is more than good to just be who I am. I wouldn’t want to be anyone else.

I see so many people struggle with separation/divorce pain. There have been many acquaintances, friends, even people dear to my heart that have gone through this. Perhaps they experience a feeling of failure, or a fear of being alone; even a fear of loving again. I’ve felt them all. I’d like them to know that the process wasn’t always a walk in the proverbial park. There was pain, certainly. There was grieving as I would expect goes hand in hand with any marriage ending. Unless you were married to Ed Gein. But the fantastic marriages don’t usually end. Right?

Looking back, I’m fortunate for the things I learned. I wasn’t necessarily the picture of grace through it all, but I did get through it. Some days my head was held high. Some days my friends held it for me. Some days I wanted to bury it in a bottle of Cotes du Rhone. I’m so grateful for being able to see the bigger picture now, because there is always a bigger picture.

Sometimes we touch another person’s life in a way we never thought possible.

If “you” are reading this I want you to know I wish you and your bride a happy life. I hope you have found the love you were searching for and the love that you deserve.

You have come a long way and have grown so deeply. I am immensely proud of you. I know you will do right by each other and on days where you may not I know that you will show up get through it.

As my friend Anthony said quite recently, “Everyone has their person and you have found your person in one another.”


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