sueeeus

boring

• I worked seventeen hours yesterday.
• In addition to gracing the workplace with my presence, I earned $4k of cold hard cash for my company in exchange for ten hours of my time.  Oh but wouldn’t it be sweet to be able to take that home!
• I stopped cold turkey with the Zoloft on Saturday.
• It probably wasn’t the best idea to go cold turkey, but I was on such a low dose (25mg) that I wasn’t even sure it was doing anything to me or for me.
• Based on how I felt yesterday, I think it’s safe to say that it was, in fact, doing something to me and for me.
• I had quite a few ups and downs yesterday.  Tears.  Anxiety.  Loss of focus.  Dizziness.  Loopiness.  Clumsiness.  Frustration.  Muscle aches.  Headache.  Blurred vision.  Irritability.
• Oh sure, possibly I had cause for all those things, aside from withdrawal.  I did have a very long and taxing day.
• Not to mention the whole man scene.
• I like being a strong and capable woman, but it sometimes seems like a handicap.
• Where are the men who aren’t intimidated by strong and capable women, and who have the heart and soul and emotional fortitude to embrace, protect, honor, respect, appreciate and otherwise care for such women?
• I’m not really a man.  I just play one in real life.
• For someone whose life dream was to be a housewife and doting mother, I sure seem to have missed the boat.
• It kind of bothers me that nobody has ever wanted to take care of me.  What’s up with that?  I’m a carer.  It’s my nature to want to nurture.   So why does it seem that nobody, and by nobody I mean no man, has wanted to care for me?  What ever happened to ‘do unto others as you would have done unto you’?
• Sometimes I wish I could just sink into a man and let him be the man, so I can rest.
• Because I am so very tired.

plunge

I had to do a little public speaking yesterday.  I was on the agenda for an international business conference during which I led a software training session.  Basically.  I’m not very comfortable in front of a crowd, but I figured that the audience would most likely be predominantly male, so why not dress to distract.  If my presentation skills faltered, they’d likely be more forgiving, right?  Right.

peek-a-boobage

So I wore a very low cut blouse.  Very. Low. Cut.  There was a peek-a-boo risk.  Oops, did I just flash some boobage?  Oops.  Pardonez moi.

so close and yet so far

Even my little one was drawn to my ample bosom.  Something that NEVER happens.  He rejected me from the get-go, just like his brother. Such a waste.  Sigh.  But I digress.

dolled to dazzle

So I dolled myself up and set out to dazzle.  (Note the reflection in the shower door shows the tunic and low slung belt.  –I had to keep the cardigan on because the blouse is a slinky nightclub sleeveless number, which is not quite business professional appropriate…)

I am pleased to report that it worked like a charm.  I entered the conference hall, scanned the crowd, and confirmed that I was the only woman in the room.  And wouldn’t you know, the men were engaged and animated during the nearly 2 hour session, and afterward several made a specific point to shake my hand, thank me for a fine presentation, and introduce themselves.

Yes, I was chuckling inside.  It totally worked, this sex appeal jazz.  An ego boost like that feels pretty good, once or twice a decade.

I’ll take it!

I actually did do a good job, all told.  I walk the talk, and am not just a statistic of a woman who gets to hold a man’s spot in the corporate world to satisfy government equal opportunity laws.  Even so, the visual effects don’t hurt.

In the interest of documentation, I’m just going to make a stupid post about repeat behavior.  So, it’s Gadget’s weekend again, coming up.  I started the coordination process on Monday.  Yes he wants to see the kids, no he won’t or can’t come get them.  Sure, I can drop them off at his house.

One of my friends speculates that he does this purposefully to try to force me to use some of the pittance of child support that he pays me, so that he gets something for it.  I wouldn’t be surprised.  He lives about an hour from me.  What does that end up costing in gas, to and from?  I think about 5 gallons, so 10 gallons after the pickup.  That’s about $30 every two weeks.  Not to mention the 4 hours total drive time, there and back and once again.

Mostly, I think he just wants to make my life difficult.  Not let me make any plans.

It’s so ridiculous.  I’m still going to ride the high road.  Yes, it looks like I’m letting him walk all over me, and yes, it gets wearisome.  But I’m not interested in blowing up in front of my kids, and I am interested in them having a positive relationship with their dad.  I’m not interested in playing any games or trying to make him hurt.  I’m not interested in reducing myself to his level.

So.

Same-o, same-o.

Every day I thank God that I am not married to him.  If I ever marry again, or even have any kind of a relationship, I don’t want a black hole that sucks the life force out of me, not making enough or any effort to replenish or nourish or build me or us up.

I don’t even want to begin thinking about the message he sends his kids when he marries another woman who has four young kids, and he spends all his time with them.  Of course those children need and deserve much love and attention, but does he not see that his kids might feel as though he doesn’t love them enough or as much, or worse, that it’s their fault, or that they’re not as good as the other kids?  God forbid, and I so want to shield them from that perception.

I wish he would grow up and start paying attention to the bigger picture.

twilight

Tonight I wrote ‘Dear John’ letters to all my men, releasing them from my snare.  This meeting and dating business is too overwhelming for me.  I am a sequential person, when it comes to men, and this juggling of men is just exhausting.  I can’t do it.  I need to focus and re-focus then re-focus again on my little men, so that I can keep their interests front and center.

front and center

Front and center. They are my world. As they should be.

Okay. New server, compliments of new uber geek friends. No more crashes! I think I have it all sorted out. Blogging may resume.

Awesome.

I’m a happy camper.

And while I’m at it, let’s see how many men I can manage to piss off in one day.  There is always Gadget.  That’s a given.  There are the inevitable communication faux pas that occur whilst traversing the slippery slope of defining boundaries and parameters in budding friendships slash relationships.  There are misunderstandings and mis-matched senses of humor. There are offenses taken.  It’s exhausting.  It’s humbling.  It’s perplexing.  Especially because I’ve always tried very diligently to be a good communicator.  It’s my thing.  So if I suck at the thing that is supposedly my strongsuit… …well, that’s just dandy for the self-esteem and self-confidence, now isn’t it?

And of course I’m Miss UltraSensitive, so it wrecks me to the core when I think that I’ve upset someone.

pissed, pissed, pissed, pissedy pissed

Probably I over-react, but over the course of a few days, Gadget won’t answer his phone.  I messaged his wife-to-be and she hasn’t replied.  I called his work number and he didn’t pick up.  He hasn’t called me back.  Finally, I texted him.  Does he want to pick up the kids after work on Friday?  Can’t. Saturday morning?  No money for gas or anything else.

WTH

WTH?

What kind of a person doesn’t FIND A WAY to see his kids?  I can’t take full legal control of them and just remove ourselves from his life.  I want them to see him and have fun with him and love him and respect him.  So WTH?  So he has a limited income and a wife-to-be and four extra kids all under one roof.  You just modify your lifestyle to make things work.  Eat in.  Play in.  You find a way to make it work.  Shop at thrift stores.  Whatever it takes.

And yes, the stupid server is still crashing several times a day, as they work on migrating everything to new hardware.  I don’t know why that task should take so blessed long, unless they have a complete set of incompetents flailing about.  Ridiculous.  They are crediting a full year of free service once the dust settles, but for heaven’s sake.  How’s a woman supposed to vent?