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Monthly Archives: February 2013

Hot for teacher…

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teacherspet_inside

I used to really hate Math until I met Mr. Lambert, a teacher from my kid’s school.

Two nights ago I attended a meeting for parents about upcoming changes in curriculum.  Of course I went alone, Eric was out with one of his new “gal pals” as he affectionately referred to them before I left, you know, because he wanted to, “reassure me he and these women were just friends”.  Like I care.

Anyway, after the meeting there were teachers available to answer questions.  Mr. Lambert was the go to guy for Math questions.  I had seen him before.  There are only a few male teachers in the school and he is incredibly handsome and single so there’s always some desperate housewife type swooning around him.I approached him with a question, I  swear, I really had a valid question.  I can’t remember what the hell it was because as soon as I looked into his eyes I was dumbstruck.  I must have asked it because he was giving me some kind of answer.  His eyes were drawing me in, like magnets.  I felt like a cartoon character, eyeballs spinning, tongue hanging out, little hearts and birds flying around my head.  I wonder how I really looked as I yessed and uh huh’ed him to death.

Mr. Lambert…or ‘Lamby’, as I will now refer to him, wanted to know if I’d be interested in helping put together next year’s senior math packet.

I said, “gloobedy fordle monte doobie”.  I think.  That’s how it sounded in my head.  I meant yes, which is what I assume came out of my mouth since we exchanged cell numbers and made tentative plans to meet later in the week.  We shook hands before I walked away and he held on, just  a couple seconds longer than necessary.  He looked at me and smiled….something was behind it.  I don’t think I imagined it.

This morning, he texted me.  “Would Friday night be okay?   I understand if you have plans, I know it’s the weekend”.

Oh yes Lamby…Friday night will be juuuuust fine.  “Works for me”, is what I texted back.

“Could you meet me at the library, at 7.  They close at 9.  That should be enough time”.  He texted.

“Sure.  Anything you need me to bring”?  Some wine, a lace teddy, whipped cream?

His response, “I have it all.  Just bring yourself.  See you at 7”.

Hurry up Friday!!

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There’s No Place Like Home…sometimes that’s not a good thing.

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red slippers

Five minutes after I returned home from my vacation I was hoping a house would fall on me.  Not only had nothing changed, it had gotten worse.

Eric greeted me with a scowl, which remained on his face until my expression change when I saw the state of the house.  He and the kids thought it was funny.  My daughter howled, “looks like you had a party Dad”.  Every room was more disgusting than the next, especially the bedroom.  It looked like a tornado, (sticking with the Wizard of Oz theme), ripped through it.  It was such a mess it took me a few minutes to realize Eric’s things were gone.

As I unpacked and straightened the bedroom, Eric poked his head in.  “Have a nice trip”?

I just looked at him, I had no words.  I don’t even know who he is anymore.  I went back to unpacking.

“I guess you noticed I’ve moved my things out”.  Without looking at him I answered, “no, didn’t notice”.  

Not gonna let him get to me, not gonna do it.

“I moved downstairs”, he said.

“With the dogs?  You’ll fit right in”, I said. I kept thinking that every word spoken here drives another nail into this coffin.

“Me?  Are you blaming me for this?  After what you’ve done”?  The fact that this response didn’t even get a rise out of me sealed it.  I don’t love this person anymore.  And not caring enough to fight, I stayed calm.  I also didn’t want the kids to come back to this, after a great vacation.  So I walked by him, like he was a stranger.  That’s what it felt like.

I ordered Chinese and set the table.  I set a place for Eric and after some coaxing from the kids, he sat with us.  I was cheerful, the kids laughed and told stories about their trip and Eric’s big dramatic moment fizzled.

Later I told the kids he had moved downstairs but as far as I knew, no one was moving out, things were still up in the air and we’d let them know if anything changes.  They took it surprisingly well.  Maybe they expected it, who knows.  Sometimes kids are more in tune than we give them credit for.  So no dramatic moment there either.  Thank goodness for that.

Rolling along on my novel now.  And I’m thinking about entering a short story competition.  I could use the challenge and a deadline.  I need to keep my mind occupied.  At least I don’t have to share my bedroom with a stranger anymore…or my closets!  Hey!  I get all the closets!  Sahweeet!

Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high…there’s an big empty closet, so clothes and some shoes I’ll buy.

 

Being happy makes me tired.

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Beach writ

“Try to stay positive”.

“Look at the bright side of things”.

“Keep your chin up ole chum”…

Following the advice of these clichés is exhausting.  It really sucks when you have to work hard at being happy.

My kids and I are still on vacation.  The weather has been beautiful and they’re having a blast.  Life could be worse, right?  Especially with so many terrible things going on in the world I feel guilty even admitting I’m miserable. But my marriage is over and things are a mess back home.  No world disaster is going to make me feel better about that.  I will get through it though.  I will persevere.  And writing will help me along.

I’ve written more pages for my novel and I’ve even written a short story.  I added a “My Fiction Stories” category to this blog and if I feel brave enough, maybe I’ll post it.  Right now it’s all just exercise, even the novel.

The kids spoke to Eric on the phone last night.  He didn’t ask to talk to me, not that I really wanted to talk to him.  I do wonder what he’s doing.  Now that he and Cindy ended things, who’s he rolling around in our bed with?  I wish I had some spies on my block.  I used to, my friend Mary but she moved last year.  She was great, not like the rest of these phonies.  She was real.  I could have called her and asked, “Mary, keep an eye on Eric while I’m gone.  Let me know if there are any strange cars in the driveway, take down license plate numbers, collect DNA samples”.

The lady that lives there now keeps to herself.  We wave if we see each other as we retrieve our mail or get into our cars.  But I sure couldn’t ask her to spy.  “Hey, lady who always wears pink sweatpants…tonight, could you sneak over to my house and peep into my bedroom window and tell me who my husband is boning?”.  I could use another Mary.

I’m going to take a walk on the beach now.  I went last night, around the same time and passed a really nice looking man who was walking his dog.  We smiled at each other, a little flirty I thought.  If nothing else I could use some companionship.  Not that I don’t love my parents but if I have to spend another night playing Scrabble with the two slowest players ever, I might have to shove the tile racks into my eyeballs.

Heartache or just indigestion?

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Sometimes I wish I was a child again… a skinned knee heals quicker than a broken heart.

brokenheart

My heart does ache but I don’t think it’s over the loss of Ryan.  What did I really lose there anyway?  He wasn’t even mine to lose.  I think my heart aches for the loss of my life.  The life I shared with Eric.  It wasn’t all negative.  We had some great times, we raised two beautiful children together.  It’s just run out of air.  We’re suffocating.

The question is, can I keep it together for five hundred and forty something more days?  I’ve been lonely for a long time.  Over three years.  That’s when Eric and I began to drift apart and were either too tired or just didn’t care enough to try.  The passion was gone. Can you even get that back?  I wonder.  I really don’t know.  I thought I didn’t have any left, like it had dried up inside me like an old prune.  But Ryan showed me it was still there.  I’m still alive and have renewed hope that maybe I have another chance at love.  A second chapter. When I think of it that way my heart doesn’t ache as much.

Funny, I could never have imagined my life without Eric.  I was in it till death, really. But now I can’t imagine him in it.  I’m sad, scared and also a little excited.

To put things into perspective, it’s not my heart that’s aching for Ryan.  No…I’m aching down South.  Literally. He woke something up down there all right.  Let’s hope it’s not some crazy beast with an insatiable appetite!  Suddenly I picture myself as a lion tamer, equipped with a whip and chair.  But how do I tame the lioness?  Silly…I toss the whip and chair aside and step into…a cold shower.  I quickly jump out because it’s cold and that sucks.  I sit cross-legged, eyes closed, controlled breath and meditate.  Think relaxing thoughts.  A beautiful meadow.  A light breeze.  The sun warms my face.  I open my eyes, Ryan stands before me.  He leans down and pulls me up, holds me tight against his naked, chiseled chest.  He kisses my neck, his warm breath melts me.  Okay…that didn’t work.

Writing.  Yes.  Writing will get me through this.  I’m rusty, not that I was well oiled to begin with.  So I will dedicate this time to learn, improve and practice my writing.  Good plan!

Having a great time, glad you’re not here….

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palm trees

What the hell has happened to my life? I still can’t get over the last couple of months.  I was sitting on the beach with my daughter yesterday and she asked me what was going on.  I played dumb, natural response.  She’s smart though.  She knows something is up.  I just told her, “Dad and I have been married a long time and sometimes people grow apart.”  What a programmed, after school special response.

A while later, after much silence she asked if we were getting divorced.  I asked it that would bother her.  She turned onto her stomach to tan her back.  More silence,  Then I heard sniffles. My heart broke and I knew.  I knew I had to stay with Eric, at least until she graduated high school next year.  I told her we hadn’t gotten to that point yet and I didn’t think we would.  I lied.  Told her I thought we were just going through a rough patch but we would end up working it out.  The sniffles stopped.

A year and a half.  I’m in for a year and a half.  Approximately 550 days.  I can do this.  For my kid, I can do this.

And the countdown begins…550, 549, 548…

Sometimes life is…

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pile of crap

Just a giant pile of shit.

Ryan and I had plans for one last night together, I leave for Naples with the kids in the morning.  I packed my things, helped the kids pack.  I was actually really looking forward to spending some time with them.  I still am.  That hasn’t changed.  What has changed is…everything else.

Did you ever lie about something and forget that you lied to the point that you believed the lie was the truth?  Yeah.  Confusing. I didn’t lie exactly, I just didn’t tell Ryan that I knew the truth.  I knew that Cindy and Eric were messing around when he told me.  I never even gave that a second thought.  And while I knew this wouldn’t last, I didn’t think it would end so soon.  I didn’t think it would end up with me being the bad guy again.

Cindy wants to go to a marriage counselor so she came clean.  About everything.  She told Ryan I promised to keep quiet if she restored my Club membership.  That sounds so horrible now.  At the time it worked though.  It didn’t seem selfish at all.  I was disgusted with Eric and Cindy and so glad to have the upper hand again.  Very self centered, I know.

I wonder what Eric did that drove her back to Ryan with a vengeance.  Probably just being himself.

So now Ryan hates me.  I lost my membership to the Club again.  I’m married to an idiot.  And Cindy not only screwed my husband but then took hers back and ruined any chance I had with him.  Why do those types of girls always seem to win?  “Those types of girls“?  She’s forty years old for Christ sake.  You aren’t in high school Nicole!!

I need a vacation.  Good thing my bags are packed.

Weekend writing workshop. Yeah, that’s it. That’s the ticket.

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And the Academy Award goes to…Nicole for Telling Your Husband You’re Going to a Weekend Writing Workshop but Really Meeting his Girlfriend’s Husband In Cape May!  (we’re still working on the title)

I don’t know who I am anymore.  I don’t remember the last time I was this happy.  But under this happiness is a constant, panicked feeling that it’s going to end.  And not just end, but end horribly.  But I just can’t stop myself.  It feels too good.  I’m addicted.  And not just to the sex, which is outrageous, but to the companionship.  Fresh conversation.  Different smells.  A break from the monotony.  I’m just happy.  But I know it’s wrong.  And I know it’s going to end badly.

I keep trying to justify it.  Eric is doing it, so why can’t I?  And don’t I deserve to feel good?  Anyway, too late to turn back now.  Might as well enjoy it.

So two nights in Cape May.  First night we never left the room.  We stayed in the cutest B&B that he booked, and I can’t even imagine that everyone in the house didn’t hear us.  Maybe even everyone on the block!  I swear, it’s like we’re possessed!  But then we have so many tender moments as well.  And we talk for hours.  It’s more than sex.  It’s bad timing.

I’m leaving for Naples, FL with the kids in a couple of days.  I’m torn about this trip.  On one hand I think I need some time to get me feet back on the ground.  On the other hand I don’t want him to put his feet on the ground.  How selfish, right?  I know.  I know.

Just enjoy it while you can Nicole….

Cape May 011

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