I must be stuck on stupid. On the eve of Mr. Gotcha and my’s big “go see”, The Ex decides to throw salt in my game. Of course, he couldn’t throw salt in my game if I didn’t let him. So, the salt is completely mine to marinate my love life with, so to speak.
I think Ex’s have a special kind of spidey sense that makes them know when there is an inkling of a somebody else coming into the picture that makes them push themselves up into your stuff, no matter what other stuff they have going on at the time. Don’t this negro have a live in? Why he all up in my business exactly?
Here’s how it played out. He’s picking Aubrei up for his weekend. I hand over Aubrei’s bag, get my Aubrei kisses and proceed to my truck. It’s drizzling, so I don’t linger. I look in my rearview and he’s fumbling the baby into her seat. I fumble with my iPod. Five entire minutes go by. Tap, tap, and tap. Is that a tap on my window?
(rolling window down a crack. *gives weird look*)
The Ex: What’s the matter?
Me: Uh…nothing.
The Ex: Come on. I know something’s up. Remember, I know you. I can tell.
Me: Nope. Nothing’s wrong.
The Ex: You sure?
Me: Positive.
So then his ginormously long arms perch through my window to do the tickle thing on my neck and knees, I suppose in an attempt to make me laugh. All it did was make me roll my window up, just barely catching him at the wrist.
The Ex: You sure nothing’s wrong.
Me: I am so positive. Thank you for your concern.
The Ex: Okay… (walking to his girlfriend’s car) Call us…
Call us? Really? “Remember, I know you. I can tell”? Really? Of course, I’m thinking, so where was all this insight 3 years ago? Shit, where was all this insight 6 months ago? You wait until the eve of my big date to have insight into my thoughts and feelings? *Getthefffouttahere*. Is what’s going through my head. And what makes it worse, I can’t shake this grumpiness creeping up on me, like, by moving on with my love life (finally) is somehow betraying my daughter’s chance at having her daddy with her full time. Like my being happy with someone else, I dunno, makes me a sell out to my past love.
It sounds crazy and I know it is crazy, but it’s swimming in my head and has been since yesterday’s little episode. Am I suffering from Stockholm syndrome or something? The evil I know is much more appealing than the evil I don’t know? Of course, at least with my ex, I know exactly what’ll I’ll get. An erratic, irrational, so and so who has no idea who he is and what he wants, that will almost without a single shred of a doubt, end me up in life shambles before I can fudge a detour.
So why am I even entertaining these bullshit, mind fuck thoughts on the day of my date? Why? Because sometimes, I’m a stupid little girl, who despite life’s best intentions with me, I can’t help but dance with the devil…if only to have something interesting to talk about with you all.
Which would also explain my lack of motivation for getting myself fabulous for tonight’s encounter. I’m not even procrastinating anymore. I’m just not motivated. Like doing nothing at all will be so much easier than putting myself out there and possibly getting disappointed (or worse, much happier) by my premature hopes.
Then again, this funkiness I’m going through is sooooooo not me. I am a fly diva with stilettos enough to cure any lack of motivation. Once my hair is laid and my face beat, you won’t be able to stop me from sashaying into any room and taking it over like I own it and every single man within 10 miles of that radius. That is just my way.
Of course, the trick is, finding the motivation to pull out said stilettos.
Okay. Enough of this parlaying. I’ve got a date to get ready for. Brodying ex or not. I’ll let you know how it all goes. If I’m not back by morning, send out a search party.
The moral of this story? Can’t think of one thing. Just some food for thought. Thank you for reading this though. Peace and abundant brody free blessings. –e-