Boys build forts, Men build houses

Him: I'm just going to go there for M's birthday for an hour, maybe two and I'll 
be home.  I'm tired. Maybe we can watch a movie.
Me: Ok, and you're sure Da is going to bring you home?
Him: Yup.  He said he'd bring me home.  I love you.
Me: Love you
                                        -Six Hours Later-
*my text conversation with his sister*
Me: What do you mean Da left? 
Sister: But guess who's still here?
Me: I'm gonna go home then. He told me Da was supposed to bring him home.  He 
has no phone.  I'm packing.  I can be alone in my own place.
Sister: I'm trying to get him to leave...
Me: Don't bother.

I left.  About 30 minutes later I get a phonecall from a landline.
Him: Heeeyyy. (He is shit-faced) Um...you know...what we had...we're done.
          (almost as if he said, "Pass the potatoes.")
Me: Okay. 
Him: Yeah, um...okay.  So, yeah.  Don't call anymore.
Me: Not a problem  *end button*  Oh, shit.  All my stuff is there.  Oh well.  
Just like my marriage.  Leave it all.  It's just stuff.  Only stuff.  
Replaceable. 
It was a lot easier than I thought. It wasn't the first time he'd promised he'd 
be home.  It wasn't the first time I came into town to be with him and he'd left 
me for hours in his place, but it was the last time I would stand for it.
 In less than a minute later the landline calls again.  I was still driving home 
and I really didn't have anything more to say so I let it go to voicemail.
Him: Um...so, yeah...(something unintelligible) and don't call back on this 
number because it's not my phone. 
Ok, so you're calling me...to tell me..not to call you.  Right. Not gonna be a 
problem. I finished driving home and went to bed. 

The next day my mother was having major surgery and I was trying to just get 
through her craziness.  She tends to have a touch of the dramatic only when it 
comes to herself and was very nervous.  She was already driving the nurses to 
drink.  The doctor came in and Mom started asking him the same questions she'd 
asked the nurses, and I guess she'd already asked him these questions, too, in 
the numerous phone calls she'd made to his office.  My God, he had the patience 
of a saint.  When is the anesthesiologist coming? I ended up telling my parents 
a brief synopsis of what had happened the night before and they gave me the same 
speech they'd given so many times already of, "He'll never be more than what he 
is. He likes his life. You deserve better." Blah blah blah. I get a call. It's 
him.  I let it go to voicemail. 

Him: Uh, yeah, I'm just giving you a call to find out what your deal is.  I get 
home and you're not here.  I see your message on facebook about how I don't care 
about you.  You're flipping people off in pictures. Just give me a call and let 
me know what's going on.
He has no recollection of what happened.  He doesn't remember breaking up with 
me.  I send him his drunk voicemail telling me not to call anymore. He sends 
back a text saying it's because he was mad. He asks when he's going to see me, I 
tell him, "You're not.  We're done." He'd opened the door and I ran through it.  
However, it did not go over well.  A barrage of texts come back about how I 
always have to be in control and I knew where he was and I should've come to get 
him.  Excuse after excuse just keeps coming, which at this point, it would've 
been easier just to number them so instead of his meaningless justifications, he 
could just shout out, "NUMBER 37," and I'd know that was, "You met me in a bar 
and you know I like to drink," or, "NUMBER 52," which was, "I'm almost done 
working. I'm just gonna stop for one or two and I'll be home."  My favorite, 
which NEVER happened..."NUMBER 322," "I'm going to take you out on a date to a 
nice dinner."  OH!!! No no no, it's, "NUMBER 12," ..."I PROMISE I'LL PAY YOU 
BACK." LOL. Anyway, I digress.   I told him if he continued the abusive 
calling/texting...I think I said, "I swear on my children's heads, I will block 
you and you will never hear from me again." He replied with, "Whatever 
Freakshow," which was a favorite pet name for all of his ex-girlfriends along 
with psycho's 1-4.  I said, "Phone's off." He said, "So is your brain." He told 
me to go fuck myself. I  excused myself from my mother's hospital room, walked 
into the waiting area of Northwestern, called AT&T, and blocked his number and 
vowed no more.  
I spent the next few weeks packing and unpacking bags at my apartment. Getting 
new clothes, taking out the old ones and taking off again.  One trip to Lake 
Geneva, another to a friend's trailer near the dells, anywhere but alone in my 
apartment until finally I came home and climbed into my bed.  And there I stayed 
for three days.  If I did eat, I ate in my bed.  I stared at the tv and watched 
mindless shows. I cried on and off constantly. I didn't talk to anybody, nobody 
called, texted, which was good because I was shit for company.  Nothing made 
sense. I spent almost a full 12 hours online trying to find my next destination 
to escape to.  I couldn't comprehend that no matter where I was going, I was 
still taking me along and I couldn't escape the sadness.  I was deciding between 
Las Vegas, New York, Miami, or Jamaica to get away.  I had almost drained my 
battery on my ipad for the third time when I clicked on a link for a retreat in 
Sedona, AZ.  I knew NOTHING of Sedona, but I clicked.  I was bored, my eyes were 
swollen from crying.  I started to read about healing, no obligation if you want 
to just call, yackity-yack, personal experiences, not group therapy...and I knew 
this is where I was supposed to be.  I felt it.  This is where I have to go.  I 
don't know how I am going to afford this, but the bigger question...how can I 
afford NOT to go?  I went to bed that night praying on it, although I'm no 
prayer, and would call in the morning.  
Morning comes and I call.  It's a recording.  I don't leave a message.  I 
chicken out and hang up.  Instead I go back to the website and type in my 
information and go back to watching the tv and crying.  I was a fucking sight, 
let me say.  About an hour later the phone rings.
Voice: Robyn? My name is Regina...(immediately my eyes well up with tears and I 
can barely talk) This is what I take as my first sign from the Universe.  It's 
like I'd forgotten all my work with Mama (Re)Gena and the School of Womanly 
Arts. I had dreamed about the Sister Goddess community the previous night.
Me: Of course your name is Regina. (I laugh a weak laugh) We talk and I choke on 
my tears. She's so endearing.  Listening to every word and taking in every 
moment being so present with me. I must've sounded like a mental patient. Like, 
standing on a mountain top singing at the top of my lungs, mental patient. She 
tells me about the Soul Adventure, how much it costs, how I have to fly to 
Phoenix, rent a car, and drive two hours into the desert. Regina obviously knows 
nothing of my driving skills or she would never put the people of Arizona in 
this kind of danger. She suggests my lodging.  A reasonable and adorable condo 
called the, "Dusty Rose." I can hear the Universe is laughing at me.  I'm sure 
of it.  "Dusty Rose." Jesus, really? She sets an itinerary for me which includes 
a very important Goddess ritual. The Universe slaps me in the ass and says, "Get 
on a plane." 
Regina: When were you thinking of coming?
Me: Today.  Now. I'm not fucking kidding.  Now. 
Regina: Ok, let me see if I can arrange the appointments for you and you see if 
you can get a ticket and I'll call you back. (She's as calm as can be)
Regina calls back within 15 minutes.  I have her on speaker phone.  At the same 
time she's going over my itinerary, I am brushing my teeth (the first time I've 
been out of bed in three days), throwing random shit in a suitcase, and walking 
downstairs to my lobby where the taxi picks me up. It's forty-five minutes after 
my initial call with Regina.  I called my mother from the airport and told her 
I'd be back in about 5 days.  She is concerned, but tells me to do what I have 
to do. In less than two hours from the time I woke up that morning, I was now 
waiting to get on a plane to start an adventure that would change my life 
forever.  

I've always had amazing luck when I travel.  But because I booked my ticket so 
late, I am sandwiched in between a big, bearded, burly man who was a hunter to 
my left. He told stories of how the bears on his land would come right up to his 
window and open the garbage cans almost taunting him. And a dainty, older woman 
to my right,  named Darlene.  She and I did crossword puzzles the whole way to 
Arizona together. She was lovely, soft-spoken. The ride was horribly bumpy and 
made us all nervous.  When my seat-mates found out I had just picked up and 
left, they were astounded at my bravery...or lack of common sense. (You say 
tomato...) I didn't tell them anything other than I was going on a much needed 
vacation. When we landed, Darlene out of nowhere looked at me and said, "You 
know, Robyn, God loves you.  It's all going to be alright." I knew she was sent 
to me. I smiled at her and said, "Thanks, Darlene. I know." Got off the plane, I 
got my rental car and a free upgrade, of course.  I told you...I'm lucky like 
that...and they let me pick whatever car I wanted, and off I went with my phone 
GPS and a map (what the hell is that)  into the desert.  The mountains were 
insane to look at.  It felt as if they were pulling my whole body as I drove.  I 
called my best friend because it was just so crazy to see, I had to share it 
with somebody.  K gave me encouraging words of wisdom as usual.  When I arrived 
at my casita, the Dusty Rose, (bloody hell) I called my Point of Contact, 
Kristin Marie, (oh yeah, that was another Universe ha-ha, considering one of my 
closest friends of 20+ years is named that) to tell her I'd arrived safely.  I 
set my bag down and had a good cry for five minutes.  Boo hoo, bam, Done.  Found 
a steak place on Yelp right next to me to go eat.  The Golden Goose and I had a 
crazy-wonderful server, Luanne.  Big booming voice and could rattle off twelve 
different salad dressings in 10 seconds.  She smiles. Almost like she knew I 
needed extra loving. I had a phenomenal meal, was taken care of like a queen, 
went home and went to bed. ZZzzzzzNNNooopppee!!! Couldn't sleep a wink. The next 
morning I got myself together and headed over to meet Kristin Marie and the 
staff for my orientation.  When I meet KM, she is a spitting image of a woman I 
know here in Highland Park.  I had to do a double take.  She is so lovely and 
her energy is calming.  There's a woman behind a desk, I can't remember her 
name, but she hands me a bottle of water, a package of kleenex, (uh oh) and 
tells me she's from Northbrook.  Oh, Universe, you are hilarious, but I'm 
getting freaked out with your signs.  KM tells me about the different services 
that I'm going to have and where they are, she gives me a map (are you freakin' 
kidding me? Why don't you just hand me a ham?)  and tells me we're going to go 
over to the founder's house, Debra, now to meet. When we arrive at Debra's, the 
door opens and I'm greeted by a big golden retriever.  I don't know if I've ever 
mentioned it, but I didn't get to keep my dogs in my divorce and it was very 
hard for me. My dogs (both shelter rescues) slept with me in the bed and were 
like my furry kids. Right away the dog comes up to me and places her mouth, ever 
so gently on my forearm.  What the hell?  Debra tells me, "That's how golden's 
say hello and show they like you.  But I've never seen Daisy do that to a 
stranger before, have you, KM?" I almost cried. Yes, yes, her dog's name is 
Daisy.  MY dog's name is/was named Daisy.  SMACK SMACK. Pretty soon these are 
going to leave a mark.  Daisy won't leave my side the whole time we're all 
talking.  Debra tells me how she started the Soul Adventure and I tell her how I 
got to them.  "Sometimes it just happens this way.  When you know it's right and 
you get the call, you have to go." 
KM and I go into a room in Debra's house that is used as a meditation room. We 
sit in chairs and KM says to me, "I'm going to guide you in a meditation and 
balance your chakras.  The best thing you can do is just jump right in with both 
feet and open yourself up."  Okie dokie, here goes nothin.
KM leads/talks me through a series of colors, images, breathing, and moments of 
quiet.  My mind wanders and comes back, I think to myself, "am I doing it right? 
This can't be right," but I keep going.  There is no right or wrong.  I feel 
energy moving through my body. I ask myself thoughtful, mindful questions. I 
give myself a quiet moment and I hear it.  A voice.  Whether it was my own, or 
Spirit, or God, whomever you want to believe it was, but I heard it clear as a 
fucking bell.  The voice said to me, 
                                 "Let him go." 
I knew I'd made the right choice.  I'd finally chosen me. This was only the 
first day.  The first hour.  I'm going to stop here for a bit.  There's so much 
that happened, so many people that crossed my path.  People I met on top of the 
rock on Airport Rd watching the sunrise that touched my heart in five minutes.  
Memories that came back from my childhood that I'd forgotten for so long. Pain 
that was healed from what seemed like centuries of shitstorms. I found my path 
again. My purpose.  Do you know what that's like? To get answers that you'd been 
searching for and to finally get direction? I've been given another chance 
again.  I really am blessed.  I figure this is long enough and I will just have 
to do this adventure in pieces.  There's so much more.  I came back from this 
trip a changed person.  So much happened that maybe I'll be able to write 
about...maybe I never will.  I did end up having a conversation when I got back 
from AZ a couple of weeks later that spanned over the course of a couple of 
days.  The conversation ended with me telling my beloved, the man that is/was 
the love of my life... well, it went something like this:
Me: This is not me coming back, Darling.  Nothing has changed at all.  Nothing 
is different from the last time...nor the time before that.  You have used up 
all of your, "Get out of jail free," cards with me.
Him: That's not true.  I'm much better.  Why you gotta be so negative all the 
time?
Me: And what exactly are you doing that is much better?  Are you in a program? 
Are you going to meetings?  Our friends have told me. I know what you're doing.  
You're not better...you're worse! What have you done that gives me ANY reason to 
trust you? Nothing.  So, no, Honey.  This time, no.  I don't believe you 
anymore.
Him: I'm keeping busy.  Staying out of trouble. If we're gonna do this, we have 
to do it together.  You can't be negative all the time. You know, Robyn, and 
don't take this the wrong way, but, do you think you ever had anything to do 
with the reason why I would go to the bar and drink?
                               *SILENCE*
Is he shitting me?  Tell me he didn't just say that.
Me: Don't you blame your drinking on me.  You find any reason to go. Happy, sad, 
celebrating, mad, Kwanza!...
Him: I, I, I'm not blaming you, but, and now don't take this wrong, but, I've 
made a lot of sacrifices...
Me: ...and I've made plenty...
Him: ...and so, do you think, like on the Fourth of July, when there were so 
many other parties...with kids at them...do you think I wanted to be at your 
parents...not that I didn't have fun...but I could've been with my friends...
              I really think he is retarded.  I feel bad using the word 
retarded, but it's the only one that seems to fit.
Me: Are you fucking serious? 
Sidebar: You know when you are watching on the cartoons and the character gets 
mad and you see the red color rise in them like a glass is filling up and then 
the top of their head blows off...yeah...that's me at that moment
You know, Honey, that's what happens when you date someone or you are in a 
serious relationship with someone that has kids...and if you think I was going 
to let my kids come over to X's house, where you and I know it's just going to 
be a big drunken coke-fest?  Absofuckinglutely not.  Maybe that's ok for some 
people, but not my kids.  
Him: Ok, now you're starting to swear so let's just talk later.
Me: Oh, no.  We're finishing this now.  
Him: Well then what the hell are you even talking to me for? If you don't trust 
me, you don't believe me, and you're scared of me. Why the hell are we even 
talking. (this is a method he's used with me quite often and usually I'd stay 
quiet and wait...usually because I was afraid he was leaving.  Weird, right?!) 
Me: You are absolutely right.  There is no reason for us to talk.  Matter of 
fact, don't call me anymore.  Unless, ok, how about this... I don't want to talk 
to you unless you are 30 days sober...and I mean sober.  NOTHING.  I love you.  
I have loved you from the day I set eyes on you.  And I promise you, if you get 
this under control, I drop everything to be here for you.  But until 
then...don't call.  Don't text.  Don't contact me at all until you have thirty 
days. (I have just asked him to build me a spaceship and fly me to Mars. 
Actually, that would've been easier.) 
Him: So what? I'm just supposed to do all this stuff all by myself? Just go and 
fix everything alone and then I can call you?
Me: Exactly.
Him: Well, I guess I'll just talk to you whenever then.
Me: Ok.
Him: Bye *end*
I finished my drive to Milwaukee to see my childhood friend.  Pushed him out of 
my mind.  Had a ball.  At 3am a drunk text comes in on my emergency phone:
"Why must you block me from calling you????"
Um...you just answered your own question, my love. Oh my God, I'm so sorry, but 
I'm not as sad as I used to be.  

Weeks later I saw a video on fb of him on my friend's wall.  I watched it three 
times because it was unbelievable.  He's at least 5 pounds lighter. His mouth is 
all wiggly, and I know  what that means, and he is clearly wasted...wasted out 
of his mind clapping his hands, wobbling back and forth giving that drunk laugh 
that was so different from his true laugh.  How did I stay with that for so 
long?  Why? This was the first time I saw what other people saw and I now 
understood what so many  tried to warn me about years before. I still miss him, 
oddly enough. I miss stupid things.  I used to love to go to the laundromat with 
him and try to fold his shirts like he wanted but never could. I miss how he'd 
fix the bed before we'd get in and how we could be so ridiculous but it was 
totally normal for us. I miss my song he wrote for me and how everybody within 
earshot knew the words and  would sing along.  I didn't mind that it was titled, 
"My Girlfriend Is A Hoochimama, Whoop Whoop." I think if we were still 
together...it would've gone platinum. I've said it before...another time, 
another life.  I didn't leave because I didn't love him.  I left because he was 
sick and I enabled him.  Coming back would only hurt him as much as it would 
hurt me.  At least one of us will get out alive.  

I Am Grateful For:
friends with very warped senses of humor
mountains and cacti
coffee 
sunshine
parents that take me to dinner and make me laugh
my inner voice and my ability to trust it
cowboy boots
my ability to detach from material things

I Brag:
I am strong
I am friendly
I am loved and appreciated by so many
I am a great friend and girlfriend
I am a kick-ass mother and my kids adore me
I make good decisions even if they hurt

I Desire
To keep following my path
Receive flowers
Pet a dog (I miss mine)
Try on very expensive shoes
Get a massage
Sleep past 7:30am

My song picks for this long entry are:
Beautiful Disaster by Kelly Clarkson (perfect Swamp Song)
...and to dance out of the trash bag
Irreplaceable by Beyonce Knowles

As always, my gratitude is overflowing.  Thank you for reading. Love, R

Hi their. Wanted 2 C wut u were up too. Ware'd u go? K.

When I originally started my blog it was because I realized diving back into the 
dating pool was not as easy as I'd thought.  And internet dating, as popular as it 
is, has been the craziest part of the entire experience.  There's something to 
be said for anonymity. People feel safe. They feel bold. It gives them 
permission to be who they want to be or think they are.  They take the filter off 
their brains and just let it rip.  They say things they'd never say in public or 
never want people to say to their mothers, wives, sisters. I'm sure the same 
goes for women, also, but I can't comment on that since I don't look at their 
profiles and I don't receive emails from them.  But in talking to my lesbian 
girlfriends, women are just as bad and maybe even worse when it comes to 
relationships.  I wish I could remember the joke right now about lesbians, first 
dates, and something about bringing a U-HAUL.  Anyway, recently I've been 
getting a slew of emails from men (not in my criteria) that are riddled with 
grammatical errors and spelling fuck-ups.  Nothing annoys me as much in an email 
or profile as when I see something that is so easily corrected. ESPECIALLY when 
I specifically put it in my profile that you must be a better speller than I am 
and at least know the difference between to, too, and two.  Seriously.  How lazy 
have we become that in a profile or a first-impression email we can't write out 
the words, but instead it looks like, "Hey, u look lik sum 1 I want 2 git 2 no."  
I want to peel my skin off when I read this.  "Ware wud u lik 2 go 4 r date."  
How about a fucking bookstore to buy you a dictionary, Pally? So yesterday I'd 
had it.  I think maybe I either need to switch to decaf or up my Wellbutrin. Who 
knows, but I took the FOUR misspelled emails I received yesterday and wrote back to all 
of them.  I did the best I could to not be too bitchy and use my man-training 
skills. Three thanked me.  One I didn't even bother to let 
respond.  I just blocked him and called it a day.  He drained me and took my 
pleasure away so I didn't want to deal with him...I realize when I show my hand 
like this and give the public a glimpse into my mind/life, I take a chance to 
look like a ginormous asshat.  Well, if that's the case, I'm an asshat.  It 
seems funny to end on asshat, but I will.  Ass...hat! Enjoy...

  CORRECTED PROFILE MISSION:
*this was 0087Jay's Header*
"Phenomenonal men looking for an phenomenonal women"
His email to me...

087: Hello gorgeous how are u ?

Me: Hey, thanks for the email. Although you don't fit in my criteria I'd like to 
give you my opinion and you can do with it whatever you want. Are you a MAN or 
are you a MEN? You're a man. Men is plural. You're A man looking for A WOMAN not 
AN WOMEN. Or you're a man looking for women. This opening line is the first 
thing a woman sees when she looks at your profile. You have to fix your typos 
because we women look at that stuff. Good luck to you, Honey. You seem very 
nice.

0087: Thank u i appreciate the correction.

Me: My pleasure

It now reads, "Phenomenonal man looking for an phenomenonal woman."
*sigh* Bless his heart. I've sounded out phen-om-en-on-al about ten times just 
to make sure I was seeing it right.  Yup...that's what it says. 
My lady-friend I sit next to in Starbucks said to me, "It's so nice you did that
to help him.  And you could still be friends with these guys."  and I said to her, 
"Why the hell would I want to be friends with them? Clearly they're idiots?"  

Another one for your viewing pleasure:
"September 18, 2013 the email from CaptainLarry1229 reads...

CL: Your not to bad lookin your self.

ME: I'm hoping you had all these grammatical errors for my benefit and as a 
joke. Good luck on your search

CL: I spelled everything correct.Are you singing Mark I will meet you for a 
drink and maybe dinner? (has this guy ever seen a punctuation mark?)
*he's referring to a picture of me at karaoke where my mouth is open, I'm 
standing in front of a microphone and the caption reads, "Singing at karaoke." I 
wonder if he has had any type of shock therapy. 

ME:""RE: Your not to bad lookin your self"
*You're not *too bad *looking *yourself
So, no. If you're going to be a wise ass, you didn't spell everything 
*correctly. Unfortunately you and I aren't a match. Good luck."

It's official. I'm a total bitch. I have pent up frustration. Hilarious. this is the

one that drained me.

Another email from match.com
Passionatechef4U: Hi *****,
Wow you had me at Hello. I am just a guy asking this very beautiful lady just to 
get to know him more now. 
After read your profile I do see we do have a lot in common to. 
Next I would love to be able to show and explore with you all that Chicago has 
to offer and cook for you with a fire place, and a nice bottle of wine. 
Please don't let the distance get in the way of you and I getting to know each 
other more now to. 
Yes I can tell that your a very special lady and also very worth getting to know 
more. 
Plus would love to talk with you more now to. I am at 847-651-**** or can I call 
you to now. 
David

*Deep Breath*
ME:David, while I appreciate the email, I'd like to offer my opinion and feel 
free to take it with a grain of salt. This email sounds like a general form that 
you've written, copied, and pasted to save yourself time so you can just send it 
to women who's profiles you find interesting. Which is fine, but you should at 
least take the time to go back in and personalize it and tailor it to each woman 
you respond to. For example, tell me what the things are that you and I have in 
common and also, make sure you take out the things that don't pertain to me. You 
and I are only a few miles apart, so the distance line doesn't apply to me. And 
one more thing...in my profile I specifically say I'm big on spelling and 
grammar. Your email is riddled with errors. Know the difference between to and 
too. Use spell check. Girls look at this stuff. Good luck on your search. I hope 
things go well for you.

Passionatechef4u: Thank u. Good luck to you. (You have no idea how glad I am he 
didn't add the last, "too," at the end out of horrible fear that it would be 
wrong, wrong, wrong.)

Email subject line: oH yEaH! (this is a guy who calls himself Spaceknight711)
SK711: I also love the Carpenters... :-)

Me: I have no idea what the hell that is supposed to mean. Good luck to you.

SK711: Opps...
I think i was replying to someone else, and must have accidentally hit your 
profile. But now that I have actually read your profile, I find it hilarious in 
its own right. So, maybe weird stuff does happen and interesting things may come 
of it!

First impressions.  Something you'll never get back...this is a 56 y/o teacher.  
Seems I attract old, short, loopty-loos that can't spell and have 
no filter. Well, in the meanwhile at least I have good writing material and something

to keep me busy at Starbucks. I have to figure out the secret. Maybe I have

to change my profile. "I like beer. I like guns. Boobs."

Maybe I should become a nun. Nevermind the fact 

I'm Jewish. I enjoy it, to be honest.  It keeps me from getting involved

and keeps all the men at arm's length from me. They can't hurt me if they

can't get close to me, right? But that's a whole different story.  Maybe

tomorrow I'll tell you about how I ran away to Arizona and sat on the red

rock to reclaim my sanity.  I hope this post finds you all well.  As 

always I am just so grateful that you even take time out of your day to

read my stories. Maybe I'll take all of these and put them in a book.

Maybe I'll become a rhetoric teacher. With much love, Robyn

My trinity:

I Brag

I write how I talk and it is my favorite part about me.

I am an amazing singer.

I have released a relationship that no longer served me and lived when I thought I 

would die.

I am great at inspiring people and they heed my advice.

I am a master flirt.

I Desire

to continue having fun with my friends. 

flowers that I don't have to buy myself. 

a trip to the Korean Bathhouse with my friends to relax and get a scrub.

to finally meet the friend who has given me some of the best advice I've ever heard.

to go on a date with a man who opens my car door for me. It would be so nice.

I want to get back to the studio. I miss my girls.

I desire to release the 10 pounds that has found it's way to my body. It doesn't

serve me to keep it. 

a shower with no interruptions.

to publish a book.

I Am Grateful

for my children.

for my sense of humor.

for my ability to block out bad things and forget.

high heels and karaoke

group chats and great advice

autocorrect and hilarious memes

pedicures

Irish accents

music that makes my body move and my heart swell.

My music picks:

Jackson by Johnny Cash 

Blurred Lines by Robin Thicke

Creep by Radiohead

Maybe if I'm really, really still...he won't see me...DAMN!

 I think sometimes if it wasn't for my friends and for my ridiculous love for karaoke and making people laugh, I'd have given up by now. Really, really given up by now. Do you every find yourself saying, "You just can't make this shit up?" I've said that about three times this week, alone. This is the third time, this story I'm about to tell you. I had had the worst day. THE worst day. I'd come from mediation with my ex douchebag husband and it ended with me sobbing on the street of W Wacker drive on the phone with my mother. My mother not being a very Motherly-type, says to me sternly, "Robyn! Stop crying! Your 42 years old." Because I guess there's a certain cut- off where the crying just stops, I guess. Anyway, I get to my Tuesday haunt, wait for my crew, and at the advice of my best Irish friend, start to have a few cocktails. This is not customary for me. I'm not a drinker, and ironically enough, this is the main reason for leaving my beloved. He is an alcoholic amongst other issues, but he is not the topic here. Where was I? Ah, I'm getting loopy to forget the douchebag-exhusband. My amazing friends come, we sing, we dance, we play, for some reason we are all a bit happier then usual. Maybe it's just me b/c I'm a bit more wheeeeeee *spins finger in circular motion* than usual, and I get up to sing but none of my words are coming out the way I want them to. Suddenly the song is over and I don't remember it being so short. Yeah, it is time to stop drinking. I have to pull my shit together before I have to start driving home. Our guy who does the karaoke has a following. Groupies? Adoring fans? Yeah, we love him because he's fun and funny and just makes you feel like you're special. There's always regulars whether they are sitting with the, "harem," or not, there's people that you recognize. They even have names. "Oh, look, Johnny No Cash is here." "Pin cushion is afraid to show his face now in his magician pants." "Oh, Lord, here comes Velma." "Yay, it's the Lumberjack!" Meanwhile, the night is winding down and there's this Wallflower at the table near us that I recognize but I've never talked to. He's probably about 5'7-5'8' and muscular arms. Polish looking. But plain. Doesn't dress like anything out of the ordinary. I've seen his posts on FB and he always refers to himself in the third person. It'd be like me saying, "Robyn is very excited to see you." "Robyn loves to make macaroni." I just re read that and made myself laugh. I could change it, but why? Ok, so Wallflower is minding his own business all night and it's time to leave. Somehow everybody's gone. The same way that someone changed and shortened my songs on the karaoke screen. This never happens. Usually we all leave at the same time. I never walk to the car alone. NEVER. I always have a parking space right in front of the bar but tonight was fantasy football. Which let me tell you...16 guys sitting in two rows at a bar, all with laptops, not really talking to each other...I don't understand it yet. But then again, I didn't understand hockey until last year and I get it now. Back to leaving. I walked out alone...yes, yes...I'm such a genius. I start walking down to my car waaaaayyyy down the lot in heels, *click clack, click clack clack* (mind you, it's late, my dog's are screaming) and when I get to the end of my car, Wallflower pops up from the ground of the driver's side. Wallflower: Oh, hey. I wasn't pukin' or nothin'. Yes. I realize now I should've turned around and hobbled right back in to the bar. I know these things. I do these things. Matter of fact...I'm sending my fucking MENSA application in right now. *smacks forehead*
Me: Uh, yeah?  
Wallflower: Yeah, I was doin' pushups. I just did a hundred and ten just now. 
Me: Awesome. I didn't ask. (I'm kind of a bitch, I know. Ask me what I said to the poor schmuck that wore his pajama pants to the bar last week) 
Wall: I like to do pushups before I get in the car if I been drinkin' to get the ol' blood goin', you know. *uncomfortable laugh* 
Me: Uh huh. Now I'm trying to walk to my car door and he starts wiping his hands on the trunk and the back window of his car to get the sweat off of it and, I don't know, wash his hands, maybe? Show me his massage technique? And he tries to make small talk. Mind you, I've never talked to this guy before EVER. 
Wall: You're a really good singer. I really enjoyed hearing you sing tonight, you and all your friends. You're all really good *massages the car* 
Me: Thanks  
Wall: And you're a really good dancer, too. I really liked watching you dance. You and E (E is a guy at the bar who mostly likes men so I don't mind dancing with him) Now he comes over to my car 
Wall: I'm gonna take the water off your car. Your car is nice and wet (he starts to massage my car) nice and wet...Like you were with E. 
                                                       WHOA, WHAT?!? 
When it finally registered what he said to me I turned my head and said to him 
Me: What the fuck did you just say to me? (You Sir, have picked the wrong day and the wrong girl) Wallflower looked at me and smiled as if to say, "You heard what I said." 
Me: Seriously, what the fuck did you just say? (I am pretty sure I heard a switch actually flip on in my brain) Wallflower: What? We're adults. We can joke about sex, can't we? (uncomfortable fidgeting starts to set in) Me: I'm an adult, yes, (finger goes up, neck starts to move back and forth) but I'm also a woman and you will speak to me with respect. Are we fucking clear? You don't know me. Don't you ever talk to me that way again. 
                                                             S T A R E
 (Poor Wallflower didn't realize his disrespect came at the price of Douchebag's idiocy, too) 
Wall: I'm really sorry, I didn't mean anything by it. 
                                                             S T A R E 
(Yes, I didn't mean anything. I quite often talk to strangers about vaginal fluids.) Somehow he changes the subject to how he lost his friend in November. I wish I could remember how my girlfriend put it when I told her. Something like, "segue from awkward sex talk to dead friend..." but she said it so much funnier. I mumbled something like, "That's too bad. I'm so sorry. See you next week." I got into my car, locked the doors and hauled ass home. Have I just been out of the dating loop for so long that I just don't get the lingo? Was that first line of, "Oh, hey, I wasn't pukin' or nothin'," my cue to throw my underwear off and say, "FINALLY!!! TAKE ME!" Well, at least he'd have something to wipe his hands with after all that car-sweat. (thanks, R) Honestly, I am lucky he didn't clock me and put me in the trunk, because it was really stupid to run my mouth the way I did. But, really. Ok, difference. And this happened earlier in the evening...
"Hey (guy I don't know really well) what's the word?" ( I say in passing) He says to me, "Legs, but don't spread it." HA! It's corny and it's a little dirty, but he's not in a parking lot, cornering me by my car alone, looking at me like he wants to wear my skin as a suit, talking about the condition of MY vagina. Oh, God, somebody please tell me what the rules are. Why is my life so freakin' hilarious? Because, honestly, I think if my mediation hadn't pushed me out of my pleasure and I'd been more in control, I would've handled that situation differently and been able to school Wallflower rather than reprimand him. He's lucky I didn't pick up the car and beat him with it. But then again, I'm a lady, and I wouldn't want to break a nail. *hair flip* OH, my darlings, I am so grateful you took the time to read my crazy rant, because it felt like a rant. It did! I'm hoping it's all worth it. I'm totally laughing about it now. Wishing you all love love love and hey, how about a round of pushups in the parking lot next time and think of my vagina. Whoop whoop!! Bet you will now... 

 I am giving you the trinity: 
I Brag: 
I released a relationship that was toxic and no longer served me 
I love myself more 
I made my apartment so much more homey and me 
I had a kick-ass dinner for my family last night 
I met awesome people in the last week despite the wackadoos 
I treated myself to the best hair blow-out and I can leave it for a few days now 

I Desire: 
A good night's sleep 
A massage (my back hurts) 
To release 15 pounds that found it's way to my body 
My job back (I miss my girls) 
My son to stop thinking my face is sad. (I know why) 
To have high-heeled shoes that don't hurt 
Financial freedom pink gerbera daisies 

I Am Grateful: 
Jo Malone Shower Gel that smells so good in my shower 
The sunshine that hits my shoulders when I walk to the car 
Starbuck's coffee, cold, strong 
Good blow-dry's from hair stylists 
Handsome men in suits that smile as they walk by 
Lip gloss 
My Dyson vacuum with the ball 
Cupcakes with sprinkles 
Karaoke 
Advil 
Forgiveness 

My song choices are: 
8 Miles Wide by Storm Large (such a Goddess)
 http://youtu.be/w5U-YT-mRmI 
Respect by Aretha Franklin