Moving On and Looking Back

Now since my separation, it's been a bit rough adjusting to flying solo again. As a single lad in 2001, I was quite the shy chickensh*t when it came to approaching women. Best example of that is my Senior Year High School Year Book. Looking at some of those missives from the ladies, it felt like one missed opportunity after another. Sexually suggestive messages, telephone numbers, confessions of unrequited love...even ADDRESSES!

I guess part of this spring cleaning is out with old me and in with a new me. At first, I wanted to be bad. I guess because I've been an apple polisher my whole life. I always did the right thing. I always said the right thing. I guess being a loyal and loving husband didn't pay off, so why not try the other side?

Looking back now, I'm thinking that wasn't what I was after. Thankfully I put none of those thoughts into action. It's not a matter of being the bad guy as it is to stop being that shy guy that never got the girl. Being the way that I was before I got married, was just a self-centered whiny b*tch. It's easy to grow tired of being the strong, silent type. The "sensitive" guy. None of these approaches managed to keep my marriage together. So why keep trying the same thing?

I was talking to my best friend, S about it yesterday, and I admitted that being single is quite hard, and that I had thought about joining the darkside. His woman, J was convinced that I was still I was still on the "Pain Train", listening to The Cure, wearing all black with matching eyeliner. She might not be too far from the truth...

L8er.

Therapy

I've never been a big fan of doctors. I guess technically I have 2 strikes, I'm male and I'm an African American. These are 2 of the biggest demographics that consistently do not go to doctors for help. So when I suggested to T that we seek therapy, I was a concerned husband that wanted to fix the problems in our marriage. The only problem with that is Therapy is a 2 way street. It only works if the couple is engaged in the process of solving our issues. Only one of us was interested in a resolution.

By the time I suggested marriage counseling, I had already called on a few counselors and left messages. When T showed no interest in counseling, I moved on to plan B, which was get counseling on my own. It seemed like the right thing to do. I had lost my mother 8 months ago, and then I lose my wife on top of that? I wasn't on the edge or about to do anything rash to harm myself or others, but I just needed a sounding board to help comprehend some of what I was feeling at that time.

And the hits just keep on coming...

I vacillated about coming back to this blog. However if a blog can do anything it's to get your feelings out on paper. Talking my way through different situations and getting a little help from what readers I have left.

So I'm back now for good. I'm going to make it a point to make sure and update this blog on a more regular basis. Especially since, yet another life changing monkey-wrench has gummed up the works yet again. SEPARATION.

I can honestly tell you that I didn't see this coming. T has developed feelings for someone else and she didn't feel comfortable revealing his identity, and being married to me was "too hard." According to her, "...we don't have any kids, so this should be the easy part." Hmm... interesting, because, last I checked, when have quite a few friends with no kids, and marriage is no cakewalk for them.

I'm sorry this update is so behind the curve, but this has been my reality since the end of March. From March to about mid-May, we've been living in the same house, in 2 separate rooms and in 2 separate beds. Last week marked the one month mark that I've been on my own.

The last time I saw her before that was the week before I was set to move out and she chose to stick with "Our" vacation plans and went to the timeshare in Virginia Beach. I was waiting for the day for a time when she would eventually need to talk to me which occurred via text message. There were leftover bills from the house that we're set to "short sell" in May but instead of splitting them evenly as planned, she decided to take the stand of justifying her way out of paying her half with incidental bills like lawn care of the old house.

Most of our exchanges go down like a drug deal. It feels weird, awkward, prickly and overall just not good. It's like I almost needed a shower after our feeble attempts and well wishes and stifled conversation. There's no "Hello!" or "Hi!" or other typical pleasantries. If feels more like a strange sitcom like continuation of a horrible exchange with a bookmark of ickyness.

Her reasons for leaving hasn't changed. Her vapid response to anything I say to her has continued. And yet, she wants to be friends. She talked about that several times before her admission. And I don't need anymore friends. I'm not in that place in my life where I need more friends.

Is being single hard? HELL YES! Especially when one has been off the market for 10 years. Many things have changed and everything is different. Is it going to be a little weird? Yes! Is it going to be very awkward? Certainly! Are you along for the ride? Get Ready.

L8er.

The Darkest Day

Generally this blog has been used to air out and make sense of some of the musings that I may just happen to have swirling around my head. I write because I hope someone feels what i feel and may understand that they're not alone in this great big world. I know it sounds hokey, but that's my reason for being here and I'm sticking to it.

In my head, I almost perish the thought of saying it, or even typing it. As if I avoid either speech or the written word, it is as if it didn't happen. But it did. Last week, my mother passed away.

From the inside, I can tell you that there are so many emotions that charge through your being. The first being disbelief. The doctor told us that there was nothing more that could be done and nothing more that she could be given. He didn't expect for her to last the hour, but she did. She lasted all the way through Mother's Day and the next morning she left this world to begin the next.

I don't know how I'm supposed to make sense of it all. This is my mother. She's the strength and the rock of our small intimate family unit. I used to see her everyday when she came home from the hospital and I made her lunch while she was getting back on her feet and now she's gone. It's just so heartbreaking when you have someone who's lived and great life, inspired so many people to face their greatest fears and succeed, someone who did it the right way and somehow managed to raise my crazy ass is gone. I can never go to the house and see her anymore. I can't call her. I can't write to her. I'm just a boy who misses his mother.

I'm fighting so hard to put on a brave face because that is what my sister and my father need right now. Mom was fully aware of her mortality and she in turn wrote down every detail regarding what to do after her demise. It was so hard to push through that letter. She knew exactly how we would take it as a family. She demanded that we stay focused, smile and remember her.

You never really know just how big of an impact your mother had on this Earth until she leaves it. It is so hard to listen to over 300+ people both friends and family tell you how much she meant to them. How she inspired them to be better people. How she changed their lives. How much she cared for everyone. My mother was no saint, but she was incredibly close. It wasn't a matter of being righteous. It was a matter of being honest. She spoke in blunt truths, but every single morsel of that honesty was out of love.

“The Joy of Nature” or “When Birds Attack”

My wife and I had gone through this song and dance before. We open the door to our house last week only to find the tell tale evidence that a bird had broken into the house yet again. We saw bird-poop on the tile floor and smears on the glass sliding door from the bird slamming into it trying to escape. It wasn’t a matter of if, but a matter of where the bird was hiding in the house.

I being the consummate “Manly-Man” told my wife to stay near the door as I Elmer Fudded my way around the house looking for the bird. I didn’t hear any chirping or flapping but after about 15 minutes, I was ready to tap out. I figured, “maybe he didn’t break in.”

WRONG! As I’m heading to the couch, the bird takes flight 2 feet away from me, and I spring into DEFCON 5 mode. I yell for my wife to open the door and get outside. I then call for a weapon, and my wife answers, “There’s a broom in the closet.”

Armed with a broom and my wits, I proceed to poke, prod and yell at this stupid bird to stop slam into window and fly out of the friggin’ door! Now mind you, I haven’t run since…5^th grade. I’m a taller guy with some size, so as opposed to having to run away, I prefer to intimidate.

Unfortunately, this bird preferred to fly around the house from room to room and duck and dodge and flap around the house. Since the bird gave chase, it required me to run upstairs and downstairs, in closets and out of closets. After the first trip upstairs, I started shutting doors to keep from drawing the bird back upstairs. At this point I’m angry, annoyed, and covered in sweat. Then the bird takes refuge in the corner of my dining room and perches on the crown molding. Then I remember that I have an equalizer…from the groundhog incident…THE B-B GUN!

I dart upstairs and grab that beloved pellet gun that my finally even my flightless odds against my winged nemesis. I then took it back downstairs and allowed those little green pellets to do the convincing for me. So I was comically armed like Dirty Harry and King Arthur, the bird finally left our humble abode. I went upstairs and collapsed in a heap. Running Sucks!

Sidebar: Ladies…? Why is it we have to be aggressive “Manly-Men” when danger rears its ugly head, but when we’re doing our duty to defend your honor when another guy comes sniffing around, we’re being “ridiculous.” One minute you want us to be the cultured, sensitive, guy who shares his emotions and feelings and the next you want us to unleash our inner caveman.

L8er.

Father's Day

Hey yall,

I just wanted to tell you guys a little story about my Dad. Fairly recently, my Dad's uncle, Buddy, passed on, and my father wished to go to the funeral. Considering he had just had hip replacement surgery, the braintrust and I didn't think it was a good idea for him to go alone; especially with a long drive on a new hip. So Sis and I drew straws, and it was easier for me to go.

The day started bright and early for me at 4 a.m. which give me the time to get to my parents house by 4:30 and for us to leave for the funeral by 5:00. Due to eating habits and meal necessitites, we left the house at about 6:15. It kinda defeated the purpose of me waiting at 4, but that's water under the bridge.

A little background, if you please...

Dad and I haven't always seen eye to eye on most things. Part of it is generational; part of it is bravado, and the other part is that we are so alike, we drive each other crazy. So one would think that getting in a car and driving 6+ hours with only each other would be a most tempestuous mistake. Surprisingly, I couldn't be further from the truth.

Losing someone in your family is never a happy occassion, but this trip did a lot for our relationship. I would go as far to say that this trip did alot for us, or for that I thank Buddy.

Sidebar: Skeevy roadside Bathrooms.

I know what you're thinking. "Hello! Earth to Darian! It's called a ROADSIDE BATHROOM for a reason!" Maybe I'm mythologizing my youth, but bathrooms didn't look like this when I was little. We used to make roadtrips all the time, and with a child-sized bladder, I've seen my share of rest stops and roadside bathrooms. Some of the bathrooms we saw practically required a shower immediately upon exit.

The first bathroom we came upon was in a small town in southern Virginia. We had a choice: McDonald's or Amoco. Now the McDonald's must have had everyone on the eastern seaboard eating inside. I have never in my life seen a McDonald's so full. It also had an extra large parking lot tha was full! Like they expected their popularity! Seeing the sea of cars and people, we opted to go to Amoco which in stark contrast, was completely empty.

Upon entering the Amoco, we were greeted by some guy on his cellphone. We ask for the bathroom and he points. We enter, and this place was pretty bad. You would think these places get inspected, but it was not as bad a the Subway gas station combo that we pull into about 3 hours later.

Oh...My...God. I couldn't believe that this place actually served FOOD! As soon as you walk in the door, there are flies EVERYWHERE! Thankfully the urinals were ok, but the bathroom stalls looked the battlefield of a fecal war. Now, last I checking, the aim of the roadside bathroom/restaurant game is to have a pristine bathroom experience for potential customers. The last thing you want is someone to lose their appetite and lower their perception of your restaurant's cleanliness standards by keeping a bathroom that's a biohazzard. I consider it a lesson learned: Only use a bathroom in an establishment where you would also eat.

L8er.

Back like I left something...

Well folks, I'm back for a lovely trip to the beach, and I did enjoy myself, but it wasn't without its moments! I'll explain.

So T got us one of those deals with a Timeshare company that my In-laws use. They give us a room in a Hotel on Main Street 4-days and 3 nights for about $160 and in exchange we "sit through their fabulous tour and timeshare offer and we get $50 bucks back if we accept or decline the offer." In my humble estimation, not a bad deal right?

So we arrive at the hotel and it looks a little "sketch." I'm willing to push this assumption aside until I saw the room itself. You can't judge a hotel by it's lobby and elevator. So we get to the room, and the view is gorgeous, but something didn't seem right about it. T & I stretched out legs about the beach and the surrounding area after our LONG drive.

We got back to the hotel, and I, unable to sleep in a strange place on the first night, stayed up for most of the night and watched TV. I went to bed 4 hours after the wife at about 12:15 pm.

***SIREN BLAST, SIREN BLAST, SIREN BLAST! THIS IS AN EMERGENCY SITUATION, PLEASE EVACUATE THE BUILDING***

I wake up, startled and it's about 4:30 in the morning. The siren is what I would liken to Star Trek: The Next Generation. You know, the siren that goes off anytime the Enterprise is attacked? Imagine that noise on about 4 hours worth of sleep. Not good.

T & I throw some clothes from our respective Twin beds (No Kings or Queens in this hotel!) and follow the masses downstairs and outside into the breezy and frosty air. Looking around, we definitely made the right move in getting dressed, because there is some seriously half-dressed and half-asleep folks around. Four minutes later, 3 Fire Trucks with full sirens, lights, and uniforms show up to the hotel and they begin to search the building. Security shows up and tells everyone that we're free to walk down to a neighboring hotel lobby and wait for the Firemen to finish searching the building and give us the all clear. We groggily shuffle to the hotel lobby and wait along with a few other fellow early risers.

So about an hour later, we're back in our Hotel room with no chance of getting back to sleep and zero apology from the Hotel. So we head back out the next morning for more "vacation shenanigans" and that afternoon we have our meeting with the Sales people. T and I have plenty of experience with these "sales meetings" and we would advise to always wait until the final offer to turn down the deal, because they will do everything to try to make you buy, even in THIS economy. They made an offer we couldn't refuse, and I can say that we're the new proud owners of a timeshare that we had no plans of purchasing, but have no buyers remorse.

Heading back to the hotel after our spontaneous purchase, we find some other guests at the hotel have taken up residence in our room: roaches! Mind you, this is only after our toilet breaks! At my wit's end, and being a brand new timeshare owner, I refused to sit up in the roach motel with septic issues!

We called our Timeshare company to shed some light on our plight. These guys are champs in my book, and here's why:

1. They apologized profusely for the roach infestation and the "septically challenged" bathroom.
2. They put us up in their poshest Vacation Property with a view of the beach that would make God smile!
3. They offered us an extra day's stay (which we gladly partook!)
4. They allowed us to check out immediately after the phone call.

Turns out they had no idea that their hotel was a living reenactment of "Good Times." That was when our vacation truly started and we had a ball! I guess everything has a balance, a little bit of hell and a whole lot of heaven.

L8er.