Breaking My Emotional Hymen

I have decided to wind this blog down. I got this email today from gbs. He is an old boyfriend from the late 80's and a wise man...

I recommend that you stop your blog.  Your man friend doesn't want to be another character in this story.  If this doesn't work out, and I certainly hope it does, you can start writing again.  If you need to write, which is an excellent need, then start another blog.  I miss the blog when it is not there but you are not writing it for me.
Take care, gbs

I have gone back and forth over the past few months...to blog or not to blog. When I read gbs' email it made me think. I showed it to Polly. Her reply was, "what if ManFriend™ wrote a blog and you didn't have access to it? Wouldn't that be a red flag?" She was right. ManFriend™ does know about the blog (the fact it exists and I write under a different name). I mentioned it in passing and told him I had written much since we got serious. His only comment was, "I couldn't put myself out there."

I will close this thing down with a story of hope (laced with a bit of dysfunction). A couple of weekends ago I was on my porch with ManFriend™. I was watering and deadheading some of my plants. My hose was leaking and needed to be replaced. I asked ManFriend™ to unscrew it and put it in the trash can. He looked at the dripping water and said, "it's all wet and the hanging plants are dripping. I'll do it after the water evaporates." I'm not sure why...my filter was not screwed on tight, I said, "what are you...a fucking pussy?" he looked at me with a confused expression. He slowly walked back into my house. I walked in and saw that he was putting on his jeans. He told me he was going home, to the library, then to the gym and he would be back later (we had plans to go to the movies.) I told him I was kidding and I was sorry. He said that it was an inappropriate thing to say even in jest. I got defensive and gave him the "this is the way I talk" speech. He calmly said it was disrespectful.  He hugged me, told me he loved me and said he would be back at 5. I was speechless. He left. I promptly ate 3 popsicles in a row, cleaned my already spotless house and sent Lynn an email to set up an appointment. STAT. When he got back at 5 I told him I was really sorry and I would not do that again. He smiled and said thank you and we got ready to go out.

The Lynn appointment--I told her the story. She never flinched at the "What are you a fucking pussy?" comment. Sidebar...here are some comments I received when telling the story to others:

• Hairdresser (from NY): "oh no you ddd'ent!!!"
• Sulie-"What did your face look like when you said it? Oh no, I know how ManFriend™ felt. Poor ManFriend™"
• Niece Jackie--Choked on her breakfast sandwich.
• Gynecologist-(had appt to change BCP. Hormones came up). "Penelope, I can't see you talking that way...let's see what new pill we can change you to..."

Back to Lynn. She said, "he sounds healthy", "he set boundaries". She said I was a "virgin" when it came to healthy relationships. She was right. She said except for the one a long time ago (that would be gbs). She asked me what I would do if I had a really nice family heirloom given to me. I said I would take care of it, keep it safe, treasure it...she said, "wouldn't you do the same thing for ManFriend™?"

So I have broken my emotional hymen.

I thank everyone for the emails, comments and support over the past 2 years. What started as an impulse to purge about a shitty time became a way to heal (and laugh). I'm going to leave this open in case someone Googles "cheating" or "ManGroomer", or if some big Hollywood producer wants to make a movie of this. I vote for Sandra Bullock to play me.

xo

Working Fake Boob vs. Real Boob

My friend just called me with a random thought. She said, "working real boob looks so much better than working fake boob." Apparently she had seen both types recently (a fake boob woman "working it" and a real boob woman "working it"). It was profound.

Catching you Up

Okay, I'm going to give a Reader's Digest version. Met ManFriend™ in April. Hit it off. Shared a bit of my history with him. Slowly. In passing comments. (Just top line info--divorced because of cheating. Not the gruesome details). He shared his. He's been married twice. The first wife cheated. Second one it didn't work out. He remains on good terms with both. Number 1 was a long time relationship and they have realized they can be friends (kind of like me with my Number 1). Number 2 recently remarried. He's been divorced since 2005. No children. He checked out on myfloridacounty.com

Went on dates. Had fun. Invited him to my place to watch a movie. Did it.  

No MUTHA FUCKIN RED FLAGS!

Oh but you know me...it creeps into my mind. This guy can't be real. I'm missing something. All guys suck.

I kept it under wraps. It is easy to be cool chick in the beginning. Waking up with fresh breath--thanks to oral hygiene done at 0600 in the morning before he wakes up. Clear sparkling skin--thanks to powder and blush applied after oral hygiene. Always perky--thanks to wine and sex.

Here we are 4 months later. He leaves his cell phone on the counter. There is no slinking away to text. He takes Daisy for walks (actually he runs with her). He scoops out the cat box. He puts dishes in the dishwasher.

Normal people would think...I am in a relationship with someone that is my emotional equal. That would be too easy. And sane.

Can't think of a title

It has been a really long time. My cousin in Hawaii says this blog is how she keeps in touch and knows I'm okay. My out of state friends say it's better than FaceBook. I have wondered about shutting it down. One very Wise Friend told me that I needed to do an "ending" if I do stop blogging. 

It made me think about what is so different that I don't have as much time to sit down and write. My job still sucks the big one, but it doesn't interfere. School starts next week. ManFriend™ (I may have to think of a new name) and I spend about 4 nights together. It's not like I'm in bed getting down 24 hours a day. Wise Friend (mentioned above) commented that it may have been easier to write when assholes (men I didn't respect or care for) were in my life vs. writing about someone that I care about.

I thought about it and I think I can share the transition to a healthy relationship vs. dysfunctional and all around fucked up.

ipad Prisoner

I used to be shackled to my ipad. It went to bed with me under a pillow. I carried it in my purse.

I have broken the shackles. Don't get me wrong--I can still spend hours clutching it. Email, quick Internet searches, Words With Friends (which is like crack by the way...)

One of my friends named her ipad Esteban. Another one has Bruno. (I'm having deja blog--I may have mentioned this before.)

This is the picture I got when I googled "chained to ipad".

It is a computer wallpaper. What kind of creep using this???

Mystery

I believe in mystery when it comes to men and women. No one will see me flossing, peeing (I've done it in the past--no more), picking my teeth, shaving my legs, tweezing, or any other maintenance/body function.

One of my work friends poops in front of her husband. Yuck! How does one get a hard-on after seeing his wife poop? She reason that he saw it when she had their son. May I say it again? YUCK.

Manfriend™ has learned my ways of mystery. He does not floss in front of me. He knows to leave me alone in the bathroom.

I say let them think you are a "Natural Beauty".

Correlation between having sex and blog time...

I've gotten many emails asking me where I've been. I just got back from a trip, but it was only a week. I was surprised to see my last post was June 2. It made me wonder if there is a correlation between my lack of blogging and starting a new relationship. I used to blog at night and on the weekends. I'm pretty busy on the weekends, but I still have time in the evenings. I have a really long list of subjects. It is so interesting to me that when I was once so prolific (as my friend GBS commented) and now I'm not as disciplined at writing.

I do believe there is a direct correlation between having sex and blog time...

25 years of Oprah

You know, I can't decide if I love Oprah or if I want to kick her in the box...

Dating after divorcing a ManGroomer™

People, I got boyfriend, a lover, a companion (what the hell do I call a guy I like, we do it and he spends the night when I'm 46?) I shall refer to him as my Manfriend™.

I've been keeping my red flag detector hidden. Of course I did a full background check on myfloridacounty.com. He truly was divorced for 5 years. He really does have a condo he is buying. He's polite. He plans dates. One night he asked me if I was comfortable in bed because he had his arm around me. I almost had a fuckin seizure. I've never had a guy ask me if I was comfortable. They sure will tell you if you inadvertently bump them with your elbow and it hurts while you're blowing them. Ugh. This one is different.

We talked tonight about what our "Issues" were. He quietly said his are around trust and fear of abandonment. (his father died when he was 11--same as me). I agreed that when you lose a parent that young that abandonment could come up. It was my turn to share. People, we know I got a long ass list. I stuck with the top level items. Trust particularly around cheating. I experienced a large amount betrayal in a short period of time--John, match.com tool, Spencer, Special Ops Boy and Dillhole. Thank god I didnt sleep with them all. My other one is convincing myself that I was going to be alone for the rest of my life. I didn't tell him that one. I can't show all my crazy cards. I also know I can be kinda sassy to cover up my nerves.

He will occasionally say that I am "crazy". I had him clarify that he meant in a funny way. I told him I've had extensive sessions with the finest therapist in Tampa Bay and I'm essentially cured. Some of my friends read this,but more strangers follow the blog. I talk like I write. It's in my mind and my mouth is open and the words tumble out.

Tonight I told him I write a blog(and that I haven't blogged much lately since I was making up for lost time in the sex department). I also told him I would not feel comfortable letting him read it. Some is me at my worse. A lot of me at my funniest. It may show sides that a manfriend may never see and may not need to see. He said he understood. Give me your opinion. You guys have been reading this since the beginning.

He's kind and really smart. He's good looking. He loves my animals. I started to fall when he kissed my dog on the head goodbye. He doesn't compliment with words. I don't like to fish for em either. Lord knows after the road I've been these past few years a girl has gotta hear some nice stuff. I stare at his eyes and his smile and I think that's it. That's his compliment. And then he pets Daisy.

I need a secret Manfriend™ decoder ring...

Exes Birthdays--Have your own party

Today is John's 50th birthday. I looked at the date this afternoon and remembered. He often had big blowout parties to celebrate. Polly pointed out that most men have their drivers license by the time they are 50.  That made me laugh.

When will the jokes at John's expense ever end? Sulie did a spoken word voice memo about John. It is classic. I wish I could post audio on here. It says some like like, John, You're a fat fuck and it's not bad luck, it's choices. And you know what? You're a fat fuck. It is classic. Tonight she sends me a Talking Tom e Cat video (some apple app) where the cat says, "you know what? You're a fat fuck.

I missed the bullet with that mutha FUCKA. I say next year I need to whip up some daiquiris and boil me up some crawfish to celebrate.

Sending off the vibe

I have so much to write about. I have been sending myself emails so I don't forgot. Okay, in the last 2 weeks I have been contacted by 3 guys from the past. Let's examine:

#1: Guy from past that I haven't seen in forever. I don't think he even got a name on here (he was B.B.--before blog). He sends me an after midnight text that simply reads, "I want to lick you.". WTF? Does that work? My niece said she bets he sent that out to all the ladies in his cell and waited to see who responded first. I just deleted it.

#2: Out of Town Liaision. Oy. A drunk call. Apologizing. Saying he messed up with me. He missed his opportunity. Blah, blah, blah. I thanked him for his apology. I reminded him that I have moved on. He then suggests we get together. Ugh.

#3: Dillhole. This is the oddest. I get a text that says "Happy Nurses Week." Okay, I don't work as a nurse now. Wasn't aware it was their week and WTF? I write back, "huh?". (thanks to Polly for that suggestion). We corresponded a bit about healthcare (yes that was a springboard to talk about the economy and healthcare reform). It was weird. I started to analyze it and then I quickly dropped it. The road to Dillhole leads to CrazyTown™.

Brain and Coota are none of your business

I'm down in Naples having a girls weekend to celebrate Sulie's birthday. I'm writing this on my my iPad. I hope it looks okay because you can't do formatting.

There has been a lot of talk about the guy I'm starting to see. I have made a vow to myself that I will not blog about him in a way that is not respectful. I've saved that for the parade of tools I've known in the past.

This subject came up in the pool yesterday while sipping mojitos--the age old "how much do I tell?" scenario. I am a firm believer in never talking specifics about numbers of past partners, positions, quotes like "the first time I saw his cock I asked, you think that thing will be able to fit in little ole me?", or anything else that remotely suggests that I've had sex before (even though I've been a licensed driver and sex haver for 30 years).

We also talked about therapy and medication. I said how (what do I call him?)... Let's say New Guy innocently looked at the pill box with M, T, W,T,F,S,S on it and said, "you have a lot of pills." I deftly went into my game face and replied, "yeah, vitamins, blood pressure and cholesterol." It wasn't a total lie...


That is when niece Jackie brilliantly said, "you know what? Your brain and coota are your business." First, let me explain the definition of coota. Coota, an off shoot of cooter. Cooter is a commonly accepted term in the south for the front butt on a woman. In our neice/sister language it has transformed to "coota". It started one night when we changed the words of Heart's "Barracuda" to "Stanky Coota".

It does make sense. I don't need to share any stories about the history of my precious coota or the ups and downs my brain has been through. Not now. The main thing is right now, my coota smells like a spring day and I'm feeling good.

Hoohah Shaving

This is classic. Courtesy of my friend Scott...I think the article says it all. It may be small. Double-click on the article to make it bigger.

I'm okay!

I've gotten several emails checking on me since I haven't blogged in so long. I'm okay--just super busy. Here's a list:

• New man--yes people, I met someone that I really like and I have seen no red flags. He's vegan. We will discuss...
• I got accepted into a masters program to get my practitioners license.
• Asshole boss with lots of drama. 
• Bullshit work meeting

I have lots of stuff to write about. I will get back to it this weekend.

Thank you!

Penelope

How Q-Tips End Up in Weird Places

When Sulie bought her house we found a used q-tip in the floor. It was gross. I've come across many random q-tips through the years. In the road when I walk Daisy. In a parking lot. I once saw one on a friend's bedroom floor. Why, why, why all the q-tips? I'll tell you why. People get distracted. Last night I was performing ear hygiene in the privacy and comfort of the master bath. The phone rang. I removed the q-tip from my ear and swiftly walked to the phone. It was my niece. We began a lengthy conversation about deep things. I found that I was gesturing as I spoke with the q-tip waving like a conductor's baton. I put the q-tip down. Not in the trash mind you. That would have been too easy. I finished the conversation and the q-tip was no longer on my mind. Imagine my horror when I saw it this morning on the ottoman in my living room. That, Dear Readers, is how q-tips end up in fucked up places.

There's an App for That!

Every few days I get an email from the itunes Store that says, Your receipt #XXX blah, blah. Just for shits and giggles (that one is for Sulie. She HATES that expression) I will check my inbox right now. Yep...

That is for Word Storm. A fun little game to play finding words that all have the letter shown in the center of the hexagon. It is like crack...

There are horoscope apps, tarot card apps, dating apps, travel apps, weather apps, meditation apps, you can have a friggin Starbuck's card on your iphone app, track your period app (gross, get a calendar), movie time apps...

Pretty soon there will be a Talk to your Child through an App, App, Communicate with your Mate without Talking App, Have Virtual Sex with your Boyfriend and Avoid the Mess App...

I think there needs to be a Be Comfortable Sitting in Silence Without an iphone or ipad in your hand App.

This is a perfect lead in for a future post:

My ipad is my new boyfriend

Definition of Insanity...

Things that I have given a 2nd (or 3rd, or 4th) chance that didn't deserve it:

• Anything made of citronella that says it will kill mosquitoes. I am a Florida native. I have been eaten alive again. When will I learn?
• Victoria's Secret Bras--they were shitty in the 90's and they are shit now. I have a new $50 bra and the underwire is stabbing me.
• Internet Dating--Requires no explanation.

Boobs + Truth = New iphone

The hair was perfect, the makeup flawless, the shirt LOW cut. I signed in at the Apple store. I sat on a stool waiting for my name to be called. A young guy came over in the familiar blue shirt and said, "Penelope?" I smiled and told him my iphone had been submerged in water and it was my fault and it wasn't worth going into the story. He asked when I got it and looked up my psychotic apple buying history. I don't know if it was the fact I had purchased every model of ipod since they came out, a computer, ipads 1 and 2 or the boobs. He said, "I can replace it. If you have to replace the second one it will be $199." I asked if I could hug him. He smiled and went to get the new phone. When he came back I asked if replacing the phone was standard or if it was up to the individual's discretion. He paused and I said, "It was you, right?" He smiled. I thanked him and asked his name--it was Gus.

I left with a smile and went to buy a thank you card and an AMEX gift card. I hurried back to the store and gave it to him. I thanked him for going above and beyond the call of duty.

My new phone shall be referred to as "Gus".

iphone + water = DOOM

You may say, "Penelope, why is your iphone in a bowl of uncooked brown rice?" My reply, Dear Reader, would be, "Because I'm a dumb bitch!" Yesterday the sun was shining and my prescriptions were ready. I put Daisy in a fashionable harness. I grabbed her water bottle and a back pack. I put my debit card in a pocket and threw my phone in the bag. We headed to my neighborhood (family owned) pharmacy around the corner. Brad let me bring Daisy in. He petted her and got a dog biscuit. I opened my bag and shrieked. My iphone was marinating in a pool of water. Quickly we dried it off. Brad held Daisy's leash as I jumped to action. I shook it. I cussed. I commented that my drugs must be working because I was not flying into a public tantrum. We agreed I could be in Japan. This was not a big deal. I put the phone in my pocket (where it should have been to start), paid, and Daisy and I headed home. Google "iphone 4 wet" and there are tons of hits. I removed the SIM card (very tough), I shook it some more, I vacuumed the holes to remove any more water, and then put it in a bowl of uncooked rice to soak up the water. She has soaked overnight. I tried to turn her on today. Nothing. I plugged her in to the computer. The Apple symbol flashed mockingly on the screen and was quickly followed by a grinding noise as the screen went blank. I am heading to AT&T first. I have an appointment at the Apple Genius Bar at 2. Here's a comment Polly found on a board about getting iphones fixed after water submersion:

I've already chosen what shirt I'm going to wear...

Mixing it Up!

Do you ever mix up beauty products? Ya know, put conditioner on your hair when you think it is shampoo? I've had a few near disasters I would like to share with you all. Note that many of them ALMOST happened when I didn't have my glasses on:

• Monistat instead of toothpaste
• Ambien in the morning (on the day of a job interview) instead of Toprol XL (my blood pressure med)...they kinda look the same
• Clorox disinfectant wipes instead of Cottonelle butt wipes
• Zit cream instead of under eye cream

The list goes on and on, AND people, I am not making this shit up. Moral to the story...wear your glasses and keep me out of your bathroom.

Apparently I am not the only one with these problems...