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Been a long time…some thoughts and stuff.

Yeah I haven’t posted in a while. I’ve been meaning to, just like I’ve been meaning to actually work on my book blog, but I can’t get to the fucking computer for more than 15 minutes without The Man bugging the hell out of me to get off.

The Job

I’m going to find another job soon. I’m being criminally underpaid. He decided (remember I’m off the books, as is everyone else I work with) that $50 every two weeks was ok. Now, I’ve taken on an extra day. Initially I was doing a 20 hour week. Now it’s 26. I should be getting $138 every two weeks. I’m being jacked for $88. Here’s the problem, if I go report him, everyone I work with gets in trouble because no one is paying income taxes at the moment. We never filled out a W2 so we don’t get W4s. I’d be happy to tell The Boss to go fuck himself and sic the IRS on him (and MiOSHA) on the sly, but that would put my coworkers (who really don’t need/deserve that sort of stress) in harms way. So I’m stuck. If I complain to a Labor Board, Cook, Mel, Mo and The Amazing Beulah (who I’ve found isn’t really so scary after all) all get caught up in it (S1 and S2 have both quit, S2 didn’t last her first week).

So I decided (and I told Cook today) that I’m only going to stay there a little while longer, then I’m going to try to find another job. Whether it’s waiting tables or something else, I don’t care (well…I won’t work fast food, that’s just something that’s not going to happen), I need to get out of that place. I don’t need the drama.

Have I mentioned that we haven’t had Coke there since the 6th of this month? And that our CO2 tanks are now empty as well, and have been for over a week? We’re a restaurant that serves pop but has no pop to serve. How in the hell does that make sense?

So I’m restarting my job search. Now that I’m in the work force it should be a little bit easier.

Revelation

Since getting back to work I’ve realised something: Being a stay at home mom made me disgustingly dependant to the point where I lost sight of myself.

Let me state right now that I don’t regret being a SAHM. Not in the least. I loved watching my daughter grow up and discover something new every day. That look she gets when she gets something makes me feel like I’m on top of the world. No, I wouldn’t trade that time for anything.

I’ve always been a really independant person. It’s just part of my nature. I started working as soon as I could so I could get what I wanted when I wanted it without having to wait for someone to be nice enough to give it (or the money for it) to me. I hate feeling like a charity case and I hate it when I have to depend on others to take care of my needs. That is what happened when I became a stay at home mom. I became dependant. I couldn’t buy groceries because I didn’t have money because I didn’t have a job. I couldn’t get things for the house because I didn’t have money because I didn’t have a job. I couldn’t…I couldn’t…I couldn’t… I can go on forever like that.

This isn’t to say my husband didn’t take care of us. He did. And he did an amazing job doing so. He has no college education, works (mostly) part time at a job that pays under $12 and has no health benefits for anyone not full time (and then you’re paying so much that you may as well get private insurance on your own). And he’s been working his ass off on his music career and has made some big moves of late. Yet and still we’ve never gone hungry, we’ve never been without the necessities. The Kid has always had clothes and shoes that fit. She’s never needed for toys, or books, or crayons, or some sort of entertainment. We’ve always made a way no matter what happened. My problem is just that I hate asking people for what I need. I feel like a child asking if I can have some money to get a new shirt, or a new pair of shoes or jeans. I get eaten by guilt spending that money on myself. I look and see a bill that needs paying, or something The Kid or The Man may need/want and that becomes priority. Spending on me can’t happen without spending spending on them first to assuage my guilt, and my feelings of being greedy for not being happy with what I have.

Since starting at The Job I have rediscovered my independance. Even if just a bit. It’s an important bit. I feel like an adult. I feel like I actually bring something to the table in this relationship. I feel like less of an undue burden. I can feel myself regain some self confidence that I lost when my Demon decided that my being unemployed (even if it was by choice to raise my daughter) meant that I was less than, that I was a disappointment to everyone around me and that I was nothing more than a bother and burden.

Of course, intellectually, I knew I was something something very important by being there for my daughter and raising her. I knew, intellectually, that there was no job in this world that can pay me better than seeing those beautiful brown eyes look at me and watching her as she sat up on her own, took her first steps, said her first words, coming home from her first day of school, watching her write her name for the first time. All these big things and all the little things in between. No office or cubicle or promotion or paycheck could ever replace that. But intellectual knowledge, and all the love I have for my daughter, can’t stand up to the steady, repetitive drum beat of my Demon slowly erroding the wall intellect and love build up.

Not being able to actually get a job for almost a year didn’t help matters any. In fact it seemed to confirm everything my Demon told me. I was worthless, useless. No one would hire me because I wasn’t good enough to be hired. It’s hard to fight that and not put in applications thinking “I’m not going to get it but why not.”

Slowly, slowly, I am beating back my Demon. I am regaining confidence lost over the years. It is taking time, but I am finding who I am again. I’m rediscovering my personal light and path.

Slowly, slowly.

I’m bout ready to scream

So last night me and The Man got into over the phone. Partially it was my fault. I should have been more clear on where I was going and what I was doing (I was going to a local restaurant for a get together for a local group I’m sort of involved with). I had also forgotten to talk to him about it last week, mostly because I was dealing with the start of The Kid’s school year (and needing to get clothes for her), and burying my aunt and all that would come along with that. Add to that the fact that me and Mo got into it at work because the drawer was short $15 (it was short $11 when I came in that day) and I wasn’t sure that I was going to still have a job by the end of the week; yeah I was a little stressed.

Not only that, but I’ve been neglecting things that I really want to do. Me and my bestfriend decided to start up our own book review blog. Well, it was sort of my idea and I talked her into doing it with me. I was going to come up with the basic review format and do the ratings, but now that The Man is home and using the comp more, I rarely actually get ON the bloody thing except late at night. By then I’m too damn tired to do much of anything, certainly not to sit in front of photoshop and piece together images.

Then there’s Second Life where I’m an assistant manager at a shop (yeah crazy right, I’ve been employed more on Second Life since last October than I have in the year and some months that I was actively looking for real life work). I’m basically the main person she counts on to do their job and I’m barely on for more than a few minutes to delete and answer messages. And as weird as it may sound, being that I’m talking about a virtual world, I feel bad that I just don’t have the time to do the simple work she needs me to do.

Speaking of The Job. I’m getting paid off the books. I don’t really get this, but apparently ALL the staff is getting paid off the books. How in the hell do you run a restaurant, with all its expenditures, and not have staff on the books? Dish washers? Ok, I can see that. Maybe even a cook or two. But we’re open 7 days a week for pretty much 12 hours a day. You gotta have at least one cook and one waitress on file. That place is a massive IRS audit waiting to happen. And The Boss is insanely cheap. I got yelled at yesterday because a table ordered a large Greek salad, but the two people there ran out of time, so I gave them two boxes. They were splitting the salad (which was obvious if you saw the fact that the salad was in the middle of the table between the two people). The Boss waits for them to leave and goes off.

“Why did you give them two boxes?”

“Because they are splitting the salad.”

“No. It’s one salad, one box.”

“No. It’s two people, who were both eating the salad, they had to go so they get two boxes to split the salad.”

“One salad, one box. She called here, order to go, but eats here (note: she called ahead because she was going to be between classes and didn’t have a lot of time, I put her order in as to go but told Cook, in front of Boss, that it was to eat in).”

“You were standing right there when she called the order in. She’s at school right now (there’s a university right down the street) and had a break between classes so she and her friend came in to eat. They ran out of time and wanted to take the salad with them. They were splitting the salad to begin with, so of course I’m going to give them two boxes. She paid for her food, and tipped me ($5 on a $14 bill…36% tip, I’ll ride and die for that chick). What’s the problem?”

Boss just huffed after that. He really couldn’t justify being cheap about two people splitting a large salad (our large salads can easily feed two people, or be a full meal for one). We’ve also gotten into it about bread (only with hummus, but not with baba ganouj [WTF?] and only two packages for a medium order, no matter how many people are eating it; if they want more, charge them), and refills on drinks (anything besides water, wait until they ask, don’t refill it automatically). I ignore most of these rules. Because of the way waitstaff wages are caculated (restaurants are only obligated to pay at least $2.65 an hour because we get tips that are supposed to make up the difference and add up to minimum wage; legally we’re supposed to declare our tips and log them and if our tips that day don’t make up for the loss then we get paid extra by the owner…but then again this isn’t exactly a totally legit operation) I can make more in tips than I would from my check.

Just FYI: Waitstaff don’t make living wages. They have to bust their hump extra special hard to make ends meet. Don’t be an asshat and not tip at least 20% (unless your waiter/tress was just THAT bad). We don’t live in Europe where being waitstaff isn’t looked at as badly as it is here and they get paid decently. And if you’re one of those fuckers who go “Well you knew what you got paid when you took the job, should have found one that paid better.” remember that shit when your boss passes your ass up for a promotion or denies your request for a raise.

Some folks honestly do enjoy working waitstaff. It’s hard (especially on the back, legs and feet), but you meet new people everyday, no two days are ever exactly the same. You can’t say that for cubicle life. Me, personally, I love being waitstaff, but I can’t work big restaurants. I learned that at the last place I worked. It’s too much stress for me to handle (well I wasn’t on anti-deps then so who knows). I’ve been working food service in one way or another since I was 15. I love food and all that it represents. I once considered going into culinary arts, but, again, the stress…I don’t think I could hack it.

The problem with me is that I take too much on. I have no clue how to leave well enough alone and become invested in things. Then life takes its course and I find that I’m over my head and struggling to stay afloat.

Birthday and forced labor

Last monday was my birthday. I am now the disturbingly close to 30 age of 27. I always said I wouldn’t be one of those people who over analyzes everything on their birthday, but the older I get the harder that becomes.

Tuesday I dropped H off at the airport for a trip to…erm…somewhere. Who the hell knows. Then headed out to Detroit. The week before I got a call from my mom, “What are you doing from the 1st to the 7th?” Um…nothing I think. Why? “Good, you’re coming down here to help me clean up the house.” *pause* O…k…

This is my mom. What am I going to say? “No clean your own damn house”? That whole giving birth and raising me thing sort of makes it hard to say that.

So I spent the last week cleaning my mom’s house, hanging out with a childhood friend, and shuttling between my sister’s house and my parent’s (which sucked up a LOT of gas). It took us the better part of two days to clean my mom’s kitchen. This included cleaning out the cabinets, removing their handles and shelves, washing EVERYTHING (including walls and ceiling), sorting though dishes, glasses, mugs, sliverware, and cooking utensils, hauling bag after bag after bag after bag of garbage to the big dumpster they rented when they had the siding on their house redone. Not to mention cleaning out their refigerator (which REALLY needed it), washing the floor, soaking and scrubbing the cabinet handles in a mix of LA’s Totally Awesome All Purpose Cleaner (the ONLY cleaner I absolutely SWEAR by…even though I’m certain the fumes have erased a few much needed braincells) and water; which removed not only years of grease and oil and dirt, but also the finish from the handles.

Thursday we took care of most of the dining and living rooms, Friday we finished so my parents could bbq and have company over. I also cleaned their bathroom, moving all unnecessary items from the back of the toilet to a shelf in their linen closet. Saturday a few of those items were back on the back of the toilet and I gave up. Sunday I went over to my sister’s house to help her prepare for a bbq. This mostly entailed running errands. More gas guzzling.

Today I’m supposed to get H from the airport…though I don’t know what time. I’m exhausted but I still have things to do before I can lay down and rest.

I need a vacation.

Yeah yeah…I know

It’s been forever since I blogged. Sue me. Life has been going on as it always does.  MT and I are (once again) back on speaking terms, so it hasn’t been all bad.

Weird stuff has been happening to me lately. The other day, while leaving the grocery store, this woman who was coming in the door looked at me and said “Oh my gawd! You are sooooo beautiful!” This took me completely by surprise. She wasn’t hitting on me, so get that idea out your head now, she was giving me a genuine compliment. And my only response was a stunned, “Thank you.” as I hurried my way out the door. I didn’t mean to be rude. It just caught me off guard.

At first I thought she was going to get an attitude with me because her daughter walked right in front of my cart (the girl looked about 9) to get to one of those gumball/toy machines and I said, in my auntie voice, “excuse me hon, watch out”. Not everyone appreciates you talking to their kid like they have some sense. She called her daughter back over to her, looked at me, and told me I was beautiful. Now, I happened to be wearing an old, worn out long sleeve tshirt, that used to belong to H before I commandeered it for myself, and a pair of jeans. No make up, nothing remotely “beautiful”. Just something I threw on for a quick trip to the grocery store.

On Saturday I got an IM from that guy I graduated high school with that keeps hitting me with cheap innuendo even though we’re both married. Normally when he IMs me I’m no where near the computer so when I do get the message I don’t bother returning it. Not that I want to talk to him anyway. But this time around I decided to suck it up and respond since I was actually there when he sent the message. The conversation was innocuous enough. The regular “how have you been? what have you been up to?” type questions. Then, out of nowhere he said, “U know ur the first chick that ever came n my mouth I know that way off of subject just a good memorie that poped n my head  sorry if I upset u wit not my intent” (sic)

WTF?

I spent the next five minutes trying to convince him that we never did anything (at least I didn’t think we did..you know I’m sure I’d remember something like that…I didn’t smoke enough weed in college to block out that much memory). He was stunned that I couldn’t remember and I was starting to feel bad. What if I did let him god down on me all those years ago? I mean it was about 10 years ago so I couldn’t really be blamed if I didn’t remember…but he remembered. Or at least he said he did. I still wasn’t sure it happened. I apologised and told him I meant no offense but if it happened, I didn’t remember. After that I had to get off the comp because H needed to use it.

While washing dishes a hazy memory came back. Not completely, but enough that I knew I wasn’t making it up because I felt sorry for him. I think he really did go down on me all those years ago. But, more importantly, I’m certain that I was completely unimpressed by his skills, which would explain why I didn’t remember. He sucked. I suddenly felt even worse now that I remembered why I forgot. How do you tell someone, “You’re right, we did do something, however you weren’t good enough to warrant remembering so I pretty much forgot it as soon as it was over”? What an ego crusher that would be! And while his cheap innuendo is annoying and almost insulting in their insinuations that I’d want to do anything sexual with him while we’re both married with kids, I don’t want to destroy the poor fellows self confidence. I might be mean, but I’m not cruel.

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That’s a little *too* close to home for my tastes

As a dedicated Second Lifer, I can appreciate that people build actual meaningful relationships on there (I’ve even seen a few that ended in marriage). However, relationships on SL tend to flare up and burn out in record time (I think it has something to do with the fact that there are four SL days to every RL day…basically a new day starts every six hours) so what seems like true love can very easily fizzle out in just a matter of weeks.

But, in the true entrepreneurial spirit of Second Life, someone has found a way to merge both SL and RL all while keeping your privacy. While strolling around OnRez (a website that allows SL creators to sell their wares off-world, and lets addicts like me buy when they aren’t able to get in world; it also helps when you’re feeling particularly lazy and you don’t feel like in-world store hopping and dealing with lag and rez time), I found this little beauty. The concept is simple enough: You pay L$15000 (about $57 US, depending on how the Linden dollar market is doing; at the moment $1 US equals just about L$265…nice to know the US dollar is worth something somewhere, isn’t it) to purchase flowers, candy, wine or jewelry, you give these gifts to your beau in-world, they fill out some information and the gift you gave them on Second Life gets sent to them in Real Life. All without the giver ever knowing the recipient’s address or other personal information.

On one hand, this is a really good idea. Starfruit is owned by a Swiss telecom company, so it has the funding and connections to do exactly what it advertises and it ships to nearly everywhere. So why do I feel apprehensive about this idea? Simply put, there are a lot of people who are married in RL (whether happily or not) and having these sorts of gifts popping up could lead to the end of some marriages. You’re already hearing cases about how sites like Facebook and MySpace ruined someone’s marriage (sure, blame a website, let’s just ignore the big pink elephant in the room that’s carrying the banner “YOUR MARRIAGE WAS ALREADY IN TROUBLE TO BEGIN WITH”).

Plus…I dunno…it seems odd to have the two worlds intersect like that. I have lots of SL friends, but I don’t know if I’d go through the trouble of meeting up with them. I’m not sure that I’d want to meet them. Why destroy the illusion? Tucked safely away behind the avatars, people are willing to be less inhibited. They are more honest with themselves and others. I know details about people’s real lives that they wouldn’t dare tell anyone short of a priest in a confessional. Seeing that person in real life would simply bring it too close to home for my tastes.

However…I do have a birthday coming up…maybe I can drop some hints to a few friends and see if they’ll send me something *grins*

NPR/BBC withdrawl and other random tidbits

At home we don’t have cable tv. This is because, for the most part, we don’t really watch tv. Oh we havea tv, plus a dvd and a VCR(the link is there for those of you too young to remember when everything was on VHS and there was no such think as YouTube…oh hell, if you belong to that age group, get the hell out of my blog…darn whippersnappers), but those are mostly so that The Kid can watch PowerPuff Girls(she’s Blossom and I’m Buttercup, H goes back and forth between being Professor Utonium and Mojo Jojo) and Backyardigans over and over and over and over and…while I get some work done. This means I get almost all my information and entertainment online and through the radio.

As much as I love my RSS feeds…I can’t say they hold a candle to my local NPR station(which plays BBC world service all night long *le sigh*), and it just so happens that this week is fundraising week (well until later on today) which means every five to ten minutes my favorite shows get interrupted so the employees of said NPR station can beg for money. But I sit through it, mostly because I feel it’s my penance for being too broke to get that damned totebag for a $150 pledge, but also because it’s my main source of news. So much so that, this entire week at my sister’s house, I felt completely disconnected from the rest of the world until I remembered that she has CNN on her satellite. I just happened to catch The Situation Room as they followed the Olympic Torch around San Francisco for over an hour….talk about a damn slow news day.

My sister speaks spanish fluently (which is helpful because her husband is a citizen of Spain that was born in the Dominican Republic), so she watches Novelas on TeleMundo and Univision. Which means I watch Novelas on TeleMundo and Univision because she works from home (lucky). I’ve gotten sort of addicted to them. Unlike US soap operas, Novelas don’t go on forever and ever. They have a distinct start and end point. This means that you can see an actor/actress from one Novela on a completely different one. They also have Novelas that are targeted towards teens. Like historical fiction? They have Novelas that are set in the Victorian era. I actually sort of like these novelas. I’ve never been a soap opera watcher. I hate them for the most part. Rich, beautiful white folks who make problems for themselves. For some reason I just couldn’t relate to that. Granted a lot of the characters on Novelas are rich and beautiful, but they’re Latino, which means they come in all kinds of shades and colors. And they women are CURVY. Not just big boobs. Thick legs, round bottoms, wide hips.

One of the main characters, the title character in fact, of a Novela called Victoria is a woman in her late 40’s early 50’s who was dumped by her (rich) husband for a younger woman only to find herself as the love interest of a man some 20 years her junior. Played by Victoria Ruffo (the darkhaired one), Victoria is not some super-thin impossible beauty. She is classy, always well dressed, and beautiful. She carries herself wonderfully, and yes, she has a little weight on her, but her character has had three children in the course of a 25 year marriage..no one would expect her to be some twiggy heffa. She’d be unbelieveable and no one would really relate or even feel bad for her if she were some cut and sucked plastic surgery doll. BTW this is one of my favorite shows.

Now, my sister is bilingual. I, however, am not. This means I get a play by play from her after each scene. Not as good as hearing the real thing, but she gives me the homegirl break down which adds a certain amount of spice to it.

As much as I’m enjoying this semi vacation, I kinda can’t wait to get back home. I miss being able to call things mine. Plus I forgot to grab this turkey pastrami that was on sale at Meijer last week and I really want a pastrami sandwich (turkey pastrami is about $3 cheaper than regular). More over I miss H. I need to be hugged and kissed and all that. The Kid does that…but in a completely different way.

We’re taking this weird turn in our relationship. I guess because we got married fairly young (I was 21 and he was 22), so we’re growing and changing and having to deal with those changes. I’m one of those never-say-die types so come Hell or high water we’re going ride this out.

BTW…Lewis Black, Root of All Evil….Best. Show. Ever.

I’m growing resentful of my disease.

My mind is clearer now…at last, all to well, I can see where we all soon will be…

I’ve been on anti-deps since August, and with my meds and time there has come a lot of clarity and discovery. The one thing that I have recently begun to understand fully is that my depression has had an affect, not just on me, but on my whole family.

Four years. I lost four years of my life to my depression. Oh, I’ve lost more than just that on the whole, but those four years were the most important. Four years of a new marriage. Four years of new motherhood. Four years that I spent living in a fog, detached from the world around me while I drowned in this disease of mine. My husband, the sweet darling he is, stood by me patiently and helped me through those four years, rough as they were. In the mean time he sacrificed so much personally for me to get to where I am now.

My daughter suffered also she saw some of my worst behavior when I was in the depth of my depression. Imagine the earliest memories your child has of you is you screaming, crying and flying into irrational rages. I saw her face one day when one of these episodes happened and she looked at me as though I were a total stranger. And I was. I couldn’t even recognise myself when I was raging. That look was what convinced me to get on meds. I was slowly destroying my relationship with H and my daughter.

Now I look back and see what damage my depression has done. Some of it is totally irrepairable. There is damage to my marriage, damage to my relationship with my daughter, damage to friendships.

I hate that I have been given this disease. I hate that I allowed it to control me like that. I feel weak when I think about it. Like some stupid puppet; out of control of myself and my actions. I hate that I’m going to be on medication for the rest of my life. But I know it’s for the best. There is no cure for depression. You don’t grow out of it or get over it. You either handle it or let it consume you.

This is my life. The only one I get. I won’t live it ruled by this disease. I won’t let it decide how I feel everyday. I won’t let it destroy me, or my family any further. My goal is to repair and rebuild. My foundation will be the knowledge that I am not my disease. I am not the person it made me be on my worst days. I am better than that.

The Problem Of Finding Old Flames

Or: Why Facebook is making me rethink attending my class reunion next year.

I was happy when Facebook opened it’s doors for everyone to join. By time the site popped up I had already been out of college for about two years and they had deleted my email account, so there was no way for me to sign up and find old classmates (and I was really getting sick of that ripoff, bullshit site classmates.com). But as of late I’ve been going through great pains to avoid Facebook like the plague.

Part of the reason, aside from now having way too many annoying tweens in it’s population, is that an old high school crush has popped up. Initially I was happy to have found him. Aside from crushing on each other, we were also good friends and we hadn’t talked since graduation. No one knew what had happened to him, so naturally I was worried he had fallen victim to the city’s undertow. I greeted him with all the joy that one would an old friend they hadn’t seen in ages. He greeted me with cheap innuendo.

“We need to hook up so we can settle some unfinished business ;).”

That got an immediate WTF look. There was no way he could have looked at my profile and saw I was married with a kid. But he had. He even acknowledged that I had a kid. Oh, and did I mention that he’s married himself? Yeah. With two kids. Now add to that the fact that he is not cute in the least bit anymore. Ok, the fact that he’s married with kids takes obvious precedence over the fact that he’s not attractive anymore, but still. He was talking a lot of bullshit like he was Ralph Lauren’s newest undies model. I had to question if my Facebook page exuded that sort of desperation that I’d be willing to “hook up” with a married man that I hadn’t seen in nine years just because we crushed back when we were teenagers.

It doesn’t, in case you’re wondering.

He sent me a message the other day. “Hola @ me girl we need to hook up U have a beautiful daughter hola Yup!”

No. He’s not Latino. That’s not hola as in hi, that’s supposed to be “holla”. Yes, he really does type  like that. Damn near 30 and his Facebook and Myspace pages are full of writing just like that. It burns my eyes I tell you. BURNS! And yes, he has, again, acknowledged that I have a daughter. He left out the fact that I’m married.

I wrote back, dryly telling him that I really don’t use Facebook anymore.

wut up I just got ur reply oh ur not on facebook well wut about yspace did u have a chance to add me to ur friend list? Here r the links again just n case u forgot them (edited) U should be able to find me up under one of these. So Y arnt u on facebook that often any more? I would love to see u n person again one of these day’s u know lol. Where do u live now I may just have to “cum” and scoop u up or sum’n. Anyway Hola back when u get this u know where I’m @ =)

*gags and vomits* Do women really fall for this bullshit?  I mean women who aren’t mentally disabled. OK, there’s no way in hell I’d add him to my myspace friends. Why? Because H is on there for one, and two he seems to not care that I am married (he seems not to care that he’s married) so God only knows what bullshit he’d put on my comments for all the world to see. And can we talk about him using “cum” as opposed to “come” like it’s actually clever? Men, take note, that shit is corny. It’s corny and it REEKS of desperation. Does he really think that in nine years I have not moved on from the crush I had on him and that I’d actually be willing  to put my marriage at risk for one night of, most likely, very disappointing sex?

I tell him that I moved from Detroit when I got married back in 2002 (I made a point of stating what year I got married). His reply ignored the fact that I even mentioned being married (hell even former lovers I’ve bumped into on facebook have congratulated me on being married…even if they didn’t mean it, they said it) and repeated his desire for us to meet up for some stupid tryst.

Thing is, I really don’t know how to tell him that a single snowflake has a better chance in Hell than he does trying to get me into bed, without saying that a single snowflake has a better chance in Hell than he does trying to get me into bed. The wrong response will put him on the defensive and he’ll start claiming that he was joking (riiiiiight that’s why he keeps bringing it up *rolls eyes*) and that he wouldn’t put his marriage at risk for me.

I’m not saying I’m hot shit. I’m not. But I’m not so damn ugly (actually I’m not ugly at all thank you) or so desperate (I’m not desperate either) that I’d be willing to just fall for that lameness. He’s bumping up against 30. He’s married with two kids. And yet he has no clue how to approach a grown woman. This is why people need to stop going to clubs to meet people. It’s hard to detect bullshit over those blaring speakers, and so it makes the bullshitter think that what they’re saying is actually clever and cute.

Ah well…*continues to avoid Facebook*

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