Happy Valentine's Eve

I'm a firm believer that you should keep your crazy to yourself. I personally keep my crazy locked up in the attic duck-taped to a chair. She's usually pretty content, but last week she got loose after using dental floss and one of those blue pens from the bank.

So, she got out. And flipped her shit. Crying, carrying on, texting, more crying and screaming about Kanye's shoes. It was not pretty. I'm not sure what Kanye had to do with it, but the real reason she broke free is because of a series of events starting Valentine's weekend.
Let's flashback, shall we? You are getting sleepy, you hear my voice, keep your eyes on the really big watch...wait, not that kind of flashback. Just keep reading.

So...Valentine's Day was Saturday. And because my daughter is a freakin fanatic for hockey these days, she talked me into taking her and a friend to Wilkes-Barre to see a game Friday, the 13th of February. Which is in case you didn't know, is not Valentine's Day. I was excited. It was going to be a great time. But...the boyfriend let his crazy out in time for the holiday weekend. And chastised me for RUINING VALENTINE'S EVE. WTF? When did Valentine's Eve become a holiday. So, I checked with my psychotherapist who is the authority on these types of things. And he confirmed, there is no official sanctioned holiday such a Valentine's Eve. I was freakin spending time with my kids. My teenager, who actually wanted to be seen with me in public.
Boyfriend shows up Valentine's Day. With roses..sweet. And cards. Also sweet. And...a giant stuffed Yoda that says Yoda the One for Me. WTF? Ok, am I the only person who thinks the bug eyed green guy is not the way to express your love? Maybe I suck, or maybe I graduated from high school in 19 FREAKIN 90.
And again, maybe this is why I am divorced.
Anyway...lovely Valentine's Day. I made him a cake, presents...yada, yada. Valentine's Day annoys me. I like to buy the kids stuff, but as an adult...give me a freakin break. Nothing says love like spending $59.99 on roses. Blah.

So, now we are at post-Valentine's Day. It starts like any other day. And it ends like any other day. We got to bed. Kiss goodnight. I'm out in minutes. Around 1 am, I wake up. My phone is dinging. I forgot to turn off the ringer, and it's school notification night. I'll get about 30 emails with info on the kids grades, attendance, etc. He says "what's wrong?" I tell him I am going to to turn it off. I mean the ringer. He thinks I mean the phone. I never turn off my phone. I go back to sleep. He does not. He stays awake ALL FREAKIN night long, obsessing over the fact that I have to be seeing someone else. Because why else would my phone go off the way it did. And WHY would I turn it off.

I keep sleeping. At some point, I start to have some naughty dream about another guy. Or so he says. And I call out a name. At which point he is convinced I am DEFINITELY cheating. And cheating with a guy named Rick. I don't even freakin know a Rick. I don't even have a crush on a celebrity named Rick. At least not since 4th grade. Do you still know all the words to "Jesse's Girl"? I do!!

Next morning he leaves, barely says anything to me. I think he's just grumpy going to work. Day goes by, no text. He must be busy. Then that evening he sends me a text that says "I'm none too happy with you and I'm not sure how it's going to play out". WTF does that mean? How it's going to play out. So, I ask what I did? I am clueless at this point. Then he tells me.

So, you are telling me that now I not only need to be worried about hurting your feelings while I am awake, but you are going to hold me accountable for what I do in my freakin sleep. I am a messed up sleeper. Always have been. I talk, I scream..apparently, I also go on dates with men. Hope he was good looking and had some cash. Dream sugar daddy is still a sugar daddy.

I am not down with this turn of events. I decide to stop talking to him. For a week. I told him why. I wasn't a total bitch about it. But, I was mostly disgusted that I had to have a conversation like this. I am freakin 43 yrs old. I do not have time for this shit. I have a couple of people depending on me for you know...their life. I work hard at my job, and I try to keep my shit together so that my house is clean, I don't smell and we are not in danger of getting a child protective services knock at the door. That takes a lot of effort. Bullshit whiny dream paranoia is not on my to do list.

During the course of not talking to him, I get sick. Sinus infection. It was bad. All I did was sleep and cough. He wanted to come take care of me, I said please don't. Here's the thing. I am a 43 (yes, I do realize I keep saying that) mother of two children, who hasn't really keep up with those kegel exercises all those damn gynecologist keep telling you to do. Let me tell you something...they say, do them while you are sitting a stop light. Do them while watching TV. First of all, while I am sitting at the stoplight I am trying not to beat one of the kids, because they keep changing the radio station or trying to sync Bluetooth. I don't watch TV. I occasionally get to watch television while I am laying down in bed, for the 30 seconds before I pass out from exhaustion. And the last thing I feel like doing at that point is contracting one more damn muscle.
So, because my kegel exercises are lacking. I piss myself every time I cough. And who the hell wants a girlfriend who pees herself like 40 times a day. I mean not even wearing Victoria's Secret can fix that. It goes against my whole need to not smell. And I told him not to show up. More angst, more drama.

Now flash to this past Tuesday at 10:06 am EDT when he texted me the words "it's time...it's over, "
Well, it took me like 3 minutes to figure out what the hell was over. Was he at work. Did something happen with Obamacare?
Next thing that I know, my crazy girl shows up...starts texting all sorts of shit. May or May not have set fire to that bug eyed green thing. I freak the hell out. In retrospect (which sounds like a very smart literary word) it was an over reaction. What ever. But, since then I have sort of berated him daily via email...and after a week he has responded back., He thinks I want a cat, not him. Meow baby. Not sure what the hell that means, but I do prefer self-hygiene in my pets. Why did I freak out. I am sorting that one out. The psychotherapist thinks it's because he fired first. Eh. I don't know. But, I'm not sure I give a shit at this point. I'm allergic to cats.

So bottom line friends, is that I am single. Again. And that is ok. I'll continue to take my hockey fanatic to games, and maybe do the online dating thing. Or not. Sure, it messes up a couple of plans I had for concerts, but I am sure i can find somebody to go see the Foo Fighters with me.

Life keeps on going, And, I am totally not doing a Kegel exercise right now.