Thanks for reading my blog journey which started on December 17, 2012.
Inspire me! Please!
After twenty some years of marriage, caring for my children and home, numerous mindless jobs and letting my appearance go south, I’ve lost my identity. I used to write. It was my outlet. I want to write again but my life is dull, so I’m on a quest for inspiraton. I’ve always believed there was a great story in me, but my passion and creativity has lain dormant for so long I may need the jaws of life to extract them. I’m hoping this blog will reawaken my soul.
I never expected to jump back into writing easily, I just didn’t think it would be such a struggle. What do you write about when you’ve been stuck in a football mom(I know the cliche is soccer Mom but it’s the same with football, believe me)/housewife rut for two decades? No one wants to read about my humdrum life since a lot of people read to escape the monotony of their own lives. They want to be inspired, they want excitement.
As I sit in my car, parked in the lot across from the football field, I wonder how I’ll ever find something interesting to write about. You see, I do this at least four times a week. I hide in my car waiting for my son to finish practice. I watch the clique of other football moms, all confident and skinny, congregating on the sidelines while they sip their steamy hot chocolate. They seem like such good friends.
I don’t have many close girlfriends anymore. I used to but after a while we drifted apart and I’ve just never been able to connect to anyone. When did I become so antisocial? I know, kids, husband and life gets in the way but other people seem able to do it. Why not me? Probably a confidence issue. Sometimes I feel like I’m back in high school.
I’ll divulge some personal information here. Like many women my husband became my best friend. That should be a good thing, except recently I found out he cheated on me. We’re going to therapy, he says he really wants to work it out. Problem is, I still love him but I don’t really like him anymore. Does that make sense? I lost my best friend.
Enough of the boo hoo story. Practice is over. Time to go home and make dinner.
I’m tired of complaining, tired of waiting for something to happen.
So…I woke up this morning, pounded a 5 Hour Energy, got the kids to school, showered and went to the Club. I biked for one hour, had rubber legs for 2 but I felt pretty good. I had a renewed confidence, a little bounce in my step until I got snubbed by one of the snotty football moms as I walked out. I smiled and said “hi”. She looked me in the eyes and walked right by. Why do I care about that? Really? It’s her problem, right? But it bothered me. It squashed my confidence just like it did 20+ years ago in the halls of my high school.
Fueled by decades of angst, I decided to make a statement at football practice. I was going to snub her right back. My plan: I’d make sure we made eye contact and then I would turn away first. So high school, I know. I’m not proud but whatever. Anyway, my plan ended up a wash because she wasn’t there. She sent her ruggedly handsome husband instead. He was seated at the picnic table, surrounded by her pack. They acted as if he was the first man they’ve seen in years. He looked pretty miserable actually, I couldn’t help but laugh. And just as I headed back to the car, he broke away.
I turns out we were parked right next to each other. We got in our cars, looked at each other and smiled. He rolled down his window, gestured for me to do the same.
He pointed to the pack and asked, “Are they always like that?”
Caught off guard, I didn’t know what to say. We stared at each other for an awkward moment then my brain kicked in, “I don’t know. I don’t travel in packs.”
He chuckled, “a lone wolf”.
Another awkward silence. He smiled warmly, picked up his newspaper and began to read. I pretended to read my book but couldn’t concentrate. I was thinking about him, sitting just a few feet away. Wishing he’d call me over.He’d gesture for me to join him. My brain would hesitate but my body wouldn’t. I’d find myself opening the door and getting in the front seat. I’d be too nervous to look at him and he wouldn’t say a word, he’d just start the car and drive to a secluded area and park. We’d sit quietly a moment until I had the courage to look at him . Our eyes locked. What were we about to do? He’d reach over, put his hand on my cheek. The warmth of his hand would travel down my body like a current of electricity. I’d become dizzy from anticipation. Our rapid breath magnified, our lips yearning, he’d finally lean in and kiss me.
Suddenly I was snapped back into reality when my son got in the car. Then sadly realized the car next to me had already gone.
Well that was fun escape but now it’s time to go make dinner.
Lying here with strange thoughts…
Got everyone ready for school, husband left for work then I crawled back in bed. I don’t know what got into me but I couldn’t stop thinking about yesterday. His name is Ryan. I’ve seen him a few times over the years at school functions, games, practice. But other than thinking he was good looking with a bitchy wife, I never gave him a second thought. So why is he stuck in my brain right now? Maybe because I’m bored? My subconscience is inventing something for me to get excited about? I almost hope I don’t see him again. The thoughts I’ve been having…I think I’d break out in a cold sweat. Okay, this is silly and a giant waste of time. I’m going to the Club. That’s productive!
Not safe to go into the water…
Something is happening and I don’t think it’s good. I wanted to be inspired and yes, I was bored but I’ve been feeling so strange. First I couldn’t stop thinking about Ryan then yesterday I saw his bitchy wife in the Club locker room and again she snubbed me. Seriously, who cares, right? Obviously me for some reason. It bothered me so much I did something really crazy. I’m really embarrassed that I sunk this low. It’s really stupid but here it goes…she didn’t have a lock on her locker, so I opened it, pulled out my Gold Bond powder and shook a bunch inside. It created a huge white cloud. I panicked, grabbed my stuff and ran out of there. How stupid was that? I don’t know what got into me. She’ll probably guess it was me who did it. There was no one else in there. Oh man. What did I do?
It doesn’t stop there. Today the football team had a pre-Christmas pizza party at a local restaurant. I waited at the Starbucks next door and who walks in? Ryan. I quickly put my head down and pretended to read but just couldn’t help but look up. He was in line and saw me. He smiled. I swear I turned purple. I mustered a smile then went back to my book. He got his coffee, looked around but there were no empty tables so he headed for the door, but suddenly he turned and walked over to me.
“You mind if I sit here? I think they’re going to be a while over there.”
“Sure”, I said. Awkward silence. Should I continue to read? Does he really want to talk or did he just need a place to sit?
He broke the silence. “Get all your Christmas shopping done?”
“Well, my husband is Jewish so…”
“Oh, sorry”, he said.
I laughed, “No need to be sorry. Did you get your shopping done?”
Crap..he looks bored. This is boring dialog Nicole. “I let my wife handle that. It’s what she’s best at.”
Whoa. Not very fond of his wife maybe? Me neither Ryan…she’s a bitch. Awkward silence again. Hurry up, think of something to say!
“I sort of miss having a Christmas tree.” Well that was stupid.
“Yeah? I’d miss it too. I love when the house is decorated.” Okay…we’re back.
“It can really be magical.” Really Nicole? Magical?
“I just don’t like taking everything down. That’s a pain in the ass.” he said. I chuckle.
Dammit. I know what I’ll be thinking about again tonight. As I look at him I’m picturing him wearing only a Santa hat. Oh my God. I hope he doesn’t know.
He asks, “Are you going to the Club New Year’s Eve Party?”
“Oh, ummm…” Hell no. The Club is filled with people like your bitchy wife Ryan. “I was thinking about it. Are you going?”
“Yeah. I have to go. The wife helps plan it. It’s fun. They always have a great DJ. You should go.”
Is that a hint? I think that’s a hint! “I probably will.”
He stands up. He was just being nice. He didn’t mean it. “I’m gonna go check next door. Maybe I’ll see you New Year’s”, he says.
“Yeah, maybe. Have a nice Christmas.”
He smiles, walks out. Great ass. Oh man. This is bad. Although I am writing so that part is good. Right? Yes. I’m writing and that was the point of starting this blog. So this is good. And sweet dreams tonight for sure.
Forced Holiday Fun
I snuck in a little Christmas this year. I don’t think my husband minds, it’s more me not wanting to decorate and cook for two holidays so close together. But I needed a little cheer in the house and probably something to keep me busy. My in-laws are staying for a week. They usually get on my nerves but I’m thankful this year because they’re keeping my husband, okay I’ll say his name, Eric, occupied. Eric and I don’t talk much. I’d rather not talk alone than not talk with someone there. Does that make sense? I feel more alone with him than when I’m actually alone. Things haven’t been the same since I caught him cheating. We go to therapy, he says he’s sorry, swears he’ll never do it again but the problem is…I just don’t really care anymore. I think he killed something in me. Just going through the motions now.
So it’s quiet this year. The kids are off with their “significant others”. The Club is closed for a couple of days. What to do? Maybe try to come up with a story idea instead of writing about my boring life. Or play countless hours of Spider Solitaire. Hmmm…wonder what Ryan is doing? Just kidding. Happy Holidays!
Thanks for the porn
I wasn’t going to write anything today but I couldn’t resist. My Jewish Mother In-Law put a present under my wreath this morning. She got me the 50 Shades of Gray books. Three of them. Then told me I just had to read them and proceeded to confess how “excited” she’s been since she’s read them. “Those books have re-awakened my sex life! I used to feel guilty about wanting sex” Guilty? Well, you are Jewish Myra, “but now I say, what the hell! I’m getting old I might as well enjoy myself, and I don’t always need Stan if you know what I mean.”
Ugh. Just love that traditional Christmas confession. She’s Jewish for Christ’s sake! Here comes my oatmeal. Fa la la la la….la la…la…blah.
Calm after the storm
It’s been an interesting few days. My in-laws left two days ago and not five minutes later Eric completely lost his mind. I didn’t see much of him while they were here but when we did cross paths he was cranky. I just thought his parents were getting on his nerves. But as it turns out, I was getting on his nerves. Apparently he wanted me to spend more time with them…and him. Since when? I called bullshit. I think his parents confronted him about the obvious tension and distance between us and he didn’t know what to say. He probably blamed me. I guess that’s why I ended up with the books. She thought it would help us? Anyway, he was yelling something about how unhappy he is and a dark cloud over our house or something like that. I was shocked because it sounded like he was blaming me. So sorry you’re miserable Eric. Maybe you should go screw another co-worker! Would that cheer you up? What an asshole.
So it was pretty bad, luckily the kids were out. I didn’t like him before this but now I just can’t stand him. How dare he blame me for the unhappiness in our lives!
Good news is I have a story idea outlined. I’m not going to let that selfish ass ruin my motivation. I did some meditating, I’ve been going to the Club…screw him. And you know what? I just decided…I AM going to that New Year’s party. And I’m going alone. Not for Ryan really, but to get out and dance and bring in the New Year right. There are a lot of singles there so I won’t feel silly. Yep. That’s what I’m going to do. I need a dress…and maybe a few visits to the tanning booth, shoes, hair did. Yes…I’m going!! Time for some tea and a hot bath…
All Dressed Up And Somewhere To Go
Had a great couple of days! I went dress shopping with my daughter, we got our hair done, nails did and went to lunch. These are the things that are important. I almost decided not to go to the Club’s New Year’s Eve party but then my husband started up with me again and that was it. I’m going. More to get away from him than anything but I also can’t wait to wear the dress I bought. I usually don’t like getting dressed up since I’ve plumped out, but I love this dress. And I look pretty good in it!
I ant to bring in this New Year right. As I sit and get ready, Eric keeps walking by the bedroom. He looks in, totally mopey, doesn’t say anything then walks away. You know, if he just said, “I’d really like you to stay home tonight Nicole. Let’s get some wine, sit in front of the fire and bring in the New Year together…a new start”…I would stay home in a heartbeat. But this is the problem. He won’t. He just wants me to stay here and be miserable with him, when he was the one who caused the misery to begin with! Am I wrong here? He isn’t doing what he needs to do to fix this. Personally I think he’s going through a mid-life crisis. Maybe I am too but I wasn’t until he turned my life upside down. I have to stop feeling guilty about this. I want to enjoy myself tonight.
My New Year’s Resolutions:
Make myself a top priority!
Keep writing! Maybe get a novel started?
Get healthier and fit
Have a better view of myself. Build up that self-esteem!
AND…Don’t let my husband drag me down
Have a safe and happy New Year all!! See you next year!
They’re All Gonna Laugh At You…
2013…Off to a banging start! I made a public spectacle of myself, had someone arrested, threw up on Ryan, called his wife a bunch of names and got banned from the Club…forever. Oh yeah, and Eric picked me up from the hospital and I had to tell him the whole story.
“The Whole Story” (actually, the condensed version): The night started off fine. I felt good, looked pretty good, I even found some people to mingle with so I didn’t feel completely awkward. Ryan showed up about an hour after I did. I was so nervous I tried to stay far enough away so he wouldn’t see me. I hung out with a couple I’ve seen at the Club. They were friendly enough, maybe a little weird but at least I had someone to talk to. We had a few drinks and even danced. When I finally crossed paths with Ryan it was around 11:30 and I was pretty buzzed.
He seemed surprised to see me. “Hey! You made it. Did you just get here?”
“No, I’ve been here a couple hours.”
He looked around. “Where’s your husband?”
Now remember…I was buzzed. “Well that was part of my New Year’s resolution…to leave him home more often.”
‘This didn’t get the reaction I had hoped for…at a loss for words but not in a good way. Just then Charlie, the husband from the couple I’d been hanging out with, walked over. He and Ryan shared cordial but not friendly nods. Charlie reminded me it was close to midnight and that he just opened a bottle of champagne to toast. I said I’d be right there.
When Charlie was out of ear shot Ryan asked, “how do you know Charles?”
“I just met him and his wife tonight.”
“Well just be careful. They’re sort of strange.” It looked like he wanted to say more but was holding back.
“You think I need to be careful?”
Then up walked the Queen Bitch, Ryan’s wife. Do you know she refused to make eye contact with me? Stood not two feet from me. Now I had watched them both from across the room and she hadn’t paid any attention to him all night but she was laying it on thick now.
“You ready to bring in another New Year with me baby?” She kissed him on the cheek, his expression stayed neutral.
He looked at me before he walked away, total misery in his eyes and said “Happy New Year Nicole.”
Back with the LaStranges now…almost midnight…5….4….3….2….1……HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! Suddenly I was overwhelmed with, what am I doing here? Who are these people? I want to go home. I actually started missing Eric. So I planned my escape. Another glass of champagne then I’d go home but suddenly I felt dizzy. Too much champagne? I am a lightweight.
I told the LaStranges and they walked me outside for some air. Everything was spinning. Next thing I knew, I was alone with Charlie. Things get fuzzy but I know he had his hand inside the top of my dress. Then his wife came back out and helped me get my coat on. I couldn’t stand, she went to get their car while he sat with me, his hand now creeping up my thigh. Then, like a knight in shining armor, Ryan came out and confronted Charlie. I was lying on the bench, they were yelling at each other.
Spinning, spinning….flashing police lights….Ryan helped me stand. I threw up on his shoes. His bitchy wife was yelling at him. I slurred something like, “how’dya like the powder bitch?” Ambulance. Emergency room. People standing over me. More throwing up. Blur, blur, blur….wake up. Bright lights, still in ER. Eric sitting in the room. Ugh.
The ER is a pretty happening place on New Year’s Eve but I think I’ll stay home from now on. So basically I can never leave my house again since it seems like everyone in this town knows what happened. It ends up that Charlie slipped me something. They found evidence, he was arrested. I was banned from the Club forever not for what happened but because in my purple haze I confessed to powdering that bitches locker. I threw up on Ryan. Then after months of having the upper hand with Eric, now I’m the one in the dog house.
Happy Freakin New Year.
Something has to change because this is unbearable. Somehow, I’m now the bad guy. Eric’s the one who cheated on me. I went out on New Year’s Eve and was drugged by a slimy swinger. Not equal crimes in my book. Not that I’m taking taking score on who did the worst thing…but what he did was way worse. I did feel guilty for a couple of days but that’s worn off. Especially since he’s really milking it.
I’m over that. The cow has dried up folks.
That just covers the problems my “incident” caused in my home. Outside of my home, I’m officially the town ho. YAY! Sat in the car at the football fields today wearing big, Jackie O sunglasses and a bandanna. I’m sure that may have fooled people who didn’t already recognize my car. I think that X stuff may have caused some brain damage…I have to look into that.
So my goal now is to continue writing and find a new gym. Maybe get a sex change and move to Argentina. Just kidding. I’d move to Paris.
The Scarlet Letter
I guess I should have known this was coming. I guess in a way I sort of, kind of deserve it. Ryan’s bitch of a wife talked to Eric. She told him what I did to her locker and gave her guess as to why. Was her guess right? Am I hot for her hubby? Well, yes. But that was only part of the reason. The other part, and the only one I admitted to Eric was that she is evil. She is a horrible, snotty bitch who somehow managed to transport me back to high school. Am I proud of what I did? Not really….or a little. I don’t know. But life at home is worse than ever. He really thinks he has the upper hand and what happened on New Year’s Eve has somehow washed away his sins.
I’m over it. I will wear the scarlet letter. But if I’m going to wear it, I’m going to do it justice.
On a more positive note, I’m about 20 pages into my first novel. It’s a dark tale so this crap is actually helping. I have to put this all into perspective. The most important thing here is…I am a Mom. I need to maintain my dignity and be strong for my kids. At this point, the way I feel, divorce is inevitable. I don’t want to put them through anything worse than that. I guess being a parent means you have to be the bigger person sometimes. Not always easy but it’s what I teach them so…lead by example. I sure will try. They’re really great kids.
I think I’ll go make them a special dinner now. Jack ass will probably think I did it for him though, in effort to make up for my sins. Maybe I’ll add extra pepper to his dish.
The Fat Lady is Singing
It’s been a busy week. Here are some exciting updates:
- I’ve lost 15 pounds since New Year’s Eve.
- I joined a new gym and on day two ran into one of the bitchy football Mom husbands, Greg, who has an office next door. I assume since he was eager to talk to me, he’s heard the legend of Nicole and thinks I’m a desperate housewife ho.
- Ryan’s bitch of a wife, Cindy, implemented her new strategy to ruin my life for powdering her locker and lusting after her husband…she and some of her friends took Eric out for drinks this week. Awesome.
- Day 3 of the gym, met Greg at Starbucks and after, gave him a blowjob in his car.
- Found a great new recipe for a healthier Mac & Cheese, using whole wheat noodles! Yummmm!
- I consulted a divorce attorney. Listen to that lady sing! And check out her tribute to Madonna!
Have a nice week!
Seeking Higher Ground
On the mountains of truth you can never climb in vain: either you will reach a point higher up today, or you will be training your powers so that you will be able to climb higher tomorrow.
– Friedrich Neitzsche
Last night I caught Cindy, Ryan’s wife, and Eric kissing in her car. Need to meditate on this a while.
Tables are turning, spinning, flying…
Things have calmed down a bit since I again have the upper hand. I know that sounds horrible and unhealthy but my marriage is over, so while we’re stuck here together this works out much better for me.
So here is what the upper hand gets me:
My membership restored at the Club…okay, that’s it but I’m satisfied. No other gym has a pool and hot tub. I really miss those things.
I know I jokingly only briefly mentioned my Greg encounter earlier this week. I was sort of mortified over it, still am. I met him at Starbucks again but this time no BJ. It was obvious that’s what he “came” for though and that was a total turn off. Who does he think he is anyway? He can just call me and I’ll show up to service him? How arrogant. I don’t even like him. I still can’t even believe I did it. For me it was more like a revenge against my husband thing. I used him dammit! What a stupid thing to do. Just what I needed too…more little things to chip away at my self esteem.
I’m taking the kids on vacation in a couple of weeks. We’re going to visit my Mother in Naples, FL. Can’t wait to get out of here for a while. I wonder if Eric and Cindy will have sex in my bed. Eww. He swears he’s not seeing her but he forgets, because he’s a total idiot, that I can check who he calls on our cell phone bill. They text all the time and he’s had to go out to get milk a couple of times this week. He’s never done that the whole time we’ve been married. Does he think I’m stupid? I wonder what she’s telling Ryan.
I think the kids know something is going on although I’m trying extra hard to act like everything is normal. I’m probably over doing it. They’re smart kids.
Looking forward to the hot tub tomorrow. And I’m up to page 47 on my novel!
My life seemed so boring, uninspired and normal two months ago. Not sure I like this better yet. Time will tell.
New Episode of Wife Swap! Top secret edition…shhhhh.
Day one back at the Club, I ran into Ryan. Didn’t even make it to the hot tub. He said we needed to talk, he hadn’t seen me since New Year’s Eve. Could I get together later?
“I can’t. I have to do Mom stuff.”
“How about now?” he asked. Then he smiled sweetly and said, “Sorry…I don’t want to ruin your workout.”
Hmmm….I was taking the higher ground. Really I was. But I agreed.
So we parked by the beach and talked. Talked a little about what happened New Year’s. It turns out Ryan is a bigger person than his wife and most of their friends. He didn’t think what happened was my fault at all. He didn’t mention the “powder incident”, thank goodness because I don’t know how I’d explain that. ”Well, you see Ryan, I had the hots for you and your wife is a horrible bitch. It was my natural impulse.” We exchanged some other little chit-chat and then…the bombshell. Or so he thought.
“I don’t know how to tell you this Nicole. I don’t want to hurt you but you need to know. Cindy and your husband are having an affair.” He took my hand in his. By my vacant expression I’m sure he thought I was shocked over this news but in fact I was thinking…this might be my “in”. If I’m upset he’ll want to console me.
And the Academy Award goes to…Nicole for Crying Over My Cheating Husband! I didn’t overdo it. Just enough to get a little close and just enough to make him want to see me again…you know, as a friend. A shoulder to cry on. Did I mention how broad his shoulders are?
So…the next day, Sunday, I hit the hot tub and that night I met Ryan in New York. He’s an attorney and works in the city. He lied to the wife, told her he had tons of work to do. Work to do on a Sunday night? She only bought it because she wanted him out of there. I took the train and met him outside of his office. The hardest part was trying not to look happy. I had to find that perfect in between. Not so depressed that I was a bummer to be with and not so happy he’d question if I had any emotions at all.
We went to dinner. A small, intimate place. He ordered us some champagne, which led to cocktails. We nibbled on some kind of shrimp and our chairs inched closer after every drink. Two hours, two appetizers barely eaten, one bottle of Dom and at least five cocktails later….he kissed me. It started out sweet and tender but ended with us tearing off each other’s clothes back at his office.
It was like a scene from a movie. Kissing passionately in the elevator, no one else was in there of course. Then kissing all the way to his office door. Kissing while he fumbled with the keys. Giggling when he dropped them. He knelt down to grab them then slowly kissed up my leg and nearly sent me through the roof when he licked my inner thigh just before he stood back up.
We kissed as we ripped each other’s clothes off, fell onto his leather couch and within seconds he was inside me. I don’t know how long it lasted. I had the quickest, most powerful orgasm of my life though. Followed by another when he finally came.
For a few minutes he laid on top of me, both of us trying to catch our breath. In an attempt to get up he moved his leg and it made a horrible fart sound against the leather couch. We both laughed uncontrollably until he just collapsed on top of me. We laid there in each other’s arms for a long time. I think we even fell asleep. After about an hour we sobered up and realized it was time to go home.
I drove back with him. We talked the entire time without mentioning our spouses even once. It was bliss. We’re meeting again tomorrow night. I feel like a new woman. I have something to look forward to.
I am inspired.
Please, don’t pinch me….
I must be dreaming. Seriously.
Okay, let’s analyze this. We’re two people in unhappy marriages. Our spouses are fooling around with each other. I think anyway. I don’t even know if they’re together anymore. As it turns out, neither of us has had sex in a while, me longer than him. And we’re unhappy in our marriages. Wait, I already said that.
But I feel so good. I really missed this feeling. The electricity that runs through your body when you think of that person. It’s like a current that shoots out of your….hoo haa. I can’t sit still. I want him all the time. I’m in big trouble.
We’ve been together two times since I wrote last. Two amazing times. Once in the city again and the other wrapped up in blankets on the freezing cold beach.
This is bad but somehow good. I’ve been happier at home. Even pleasant to Eric. I’m just happy. He has to know something is up. He doesn’t seem to happy though. I guess Cindy doesn’t do the same for him. Too bad. Boo hoo Eric. Maybe go back to the Cee U Next Tuesday you were doing at work. Jack ass.
Never mind him. I want to stay happy. I wonder how long we can keep this going. I’d really like to NOT disrupt my daughter’s senior year, next year. Can we make it that long? I think I should have had an affair years ago.
Weekend writing workshop. Yeah, that’s it. That’s the ticket.
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….
Sometimes life is…
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.
Having a great time, glad you’re not here….
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…
Heartache or just indigestion?
Sometimes I wish I was a child again… a skinned knee heals quicker than a broken heart.
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!
Being happy makes me tired.
“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.
There’s No Place Like Home…
sometimes that’s not a good thing.
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.
Hot for teacher…
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!!
Born to be Bad
I’ve always had to work at being a good girl.
Being bad is so much easier.
It wasn’t easy but I resisted temptation. Had second…and third thoughts about meeting Mr. Lambert on Friday and cancelled. So many reasons why that was a bad idea and only one ‘good’ reason…and let’s face it, that was bad too!!
So no teachers, no husbands of mine enemies, no men of any kind. Not right now. Living with Eric has contributed to my current distaste for the male species, although I can’t say the same for him. He goes out almost every night with … well, who knows. At least he’s out and away from me.
With this new focus I have been writing like crazy. I don’t know if its any good, but it sure does feel good. I’ve entered a short story competition also. You’re assigned a genre, a character and a subject and for the first round you have seven days to complete a 2500 minimum word story. My group was assigned “Fairy Tale”. Ugh. I’m struggling but I think I came up with a unique spin on the parameters I was given. I could really use some feedback on my writing. I have no one to bounce it off so if nothing else that will be helpful. Maybe I’ll post it here if it’s not too embarrassing. I feel a bit schitzo writing a fairy tale while I also work on my novel which is dark. Dark, dark…dark. Sick even. Not surprisingly, it’s flowing like a faucet. So much easier to be bad. . .
Every problem has a solution
Problem: Found a newly prescribed bottle of Viagra in my husband’s sock drawer. We haven’t had sex in over a year.
Solution: Substituted his pills with my estrogen supplements which looked very similar.
I’ll deal with the extra hot flashes this month. Totally worth it!
I know we’re sleeping in different rooms but it’s only been a little over a month since we separated and from what I can tell, he’s been seeing the same woman for a few weeks now. It’s one thing to have a fling but to see someone every day. I just keeping thinking, he had nothing to say to me for so long but he talks to her for hours. Okay, I confess, I’ve checked his cell phone bill. And it’s not that I want him back, I don’t. I’m just surprised how quickly I’ve been forgotten, replaced. Does he even think about me? Does he find it strange to be with someone else after being married to me for so long? Is he fazed by anything? How long hasn’t he cared?
I can’t let this break me. I feel like my life has been turned upside down and it really bothers me that he appears totally unaffected.
Maybe I’ll feel better when the estrogen kicks in…and he needs to borrow one of my bras.
Now … what to do with 27 Viagra pills? Hmmmm….
How do I spell relief? R-E-V-E-N-G-E
I realize it’s not the most constructive way to heal or relieve my stress, not to mention completely immature…but I don’t care. It makes me feel better and I’ve been feeling bad for so long, I think I deserve it, and so does he by the way. He created this monster when he cheated on me. I mean, I have children with this man, we built a life together.
Something has changed in me, I’m not going to physically hurt anyone but I’m done being treated like a doormat. I’m sure my pre-menopausal state has something to do with my recent madness, or maybe this is my mid-life crisis, although I thought my recent “vagscaping” was my mid-life crisis…(Hellooooo Mr. Miyagi. Wax on/wax off). Whatever it is it’s making me feel better.
So to recap the last few months, I’ve successfully completed the old ‘powder the bitch’s locker’ trick and the ‘switch your scumbag husband’s Viagra for Estrogen’ maneuver. My latest scheme, you’re gonna love this, I sent his girlfriend an anonymous letter. Through some investigation, (okay…snooping. whatever) I discovered the ho’s identity. She’s a divorcee from that snotty football mom clique. She knows he’s married and still living at home so I consider her fair game. Anyway, she works at Town Hall so I sent her a letter from a ‘concerned co-worker’ that went as follows:
I wanted to let you know that recently, many of us in the office have noticed an unpleasant odor coming from your private area. I was too embarrassed to tell you in person but thought you should be aware since several of your co-workers, mostly the men, are now joking about it behind your back. In fact I intercepted a picture someone had left on your desk of a rotten fish. Maybe you should visit your OBGYN or douche, but please do something quick because it’s making us all very uncomfortable.
A Concerned Co-Worker
Sometimes, I scare myself.
Moms Gone Wild – Wet T-Shirt Edition (Part I)
I went to a follow-up parent’s meeting last night at the high school. Of course Mr. Lambert was there. I’ll spare you the boring details, I can’t remember many anyway, which is a problem since I was appointed head of some committee. Appointed by Mr. Lambert, without consulting me first which I thought was weird, but I couldn’t say no in front of fifty or so parents and faculty.
The meeting itself was lots of talk, blah, blah, blah….I wasn’t paying attention because Mr. Lambert was staring at me. I tried to look away but his dark, sexy eyes pulled me in.
The way he was looking at me, I felt naked. Like he could see through my clothes. I became really self-conscious, feeling that somehow the others saw me naked too. Like one of those dreams where you’re naked at school or work. I kept fidgeting in my chair, I was sure everyone noticed. My face was flush, my ears were hot…I thought I might be having a panic attack then…meeting adjourned. Whew. (The photo isn’t him but that IS the look)
Then mingle, mingle, mingle. Refreshments. I went to the table where drinks were set up. Seconds later, Lambert was next to me. As he reached across to grab a soda, his arm lightly brushed against my chest. Suddenly my nipples sprung to life, I think I even gasped out loud.
“I hope you don’t mind that I appointed you to the (I still can’t remember) committee”, he said.
Did I say something here? I’m not sure. All I kept thinking was, touch my nipple again Lambert! And then…he did. He picked up a soda then as he brought his arm back over, the cold wet can brushed against my now protruding nipple. There I was, eyes wide open, nipples straight out and holding my breath. Yet he acted as if nothing happened. Was it an accident?
“If you can’t do it just let me know”, he said before he smiled and walked away.
I stood frozen a moment, looked down at my blouse and saw a wet spot around my nip. One of the female teachers walked up to the table. She smiled and swear her eyes went right to the wet spot and I could somehow hear her thoughts, “Oh my God! Those nipples are gonna cut right through her shirt”!
Okay, now I AM having a panic attack. I walked briskly to the ladies room, trying hard to avoid Lambert’s stare. ______________________________________________________________________
—Sorry, can’t finish right now. Have to drive the Mom cab. Tune in later for Part II of “Moms Gone Wild – Wet T-Shirt Edition”.
Moms Gone Wild – Wet T-Shirt Edition (Part II)
After sticking my boob under the hand dryer for about 10 minutes, the wet spot on my shirt disappeared. I checked myself in the mirror, gathered up strength and walked out of the ladies room. When I came out, only a few people remained, Mr. Lambert was no where in sight. I felt relieved but I’ll be honest, I was also disappointed. There, I said it. Did I really think I could fool myself? How stupid is that? Like it was a coincidence that I primped for a parent/teacher meeting and just so happened to stop by Victoria’s Secret earlier that day where somehow, a new, sexy bra and panties set ended up my bag? I’m not doing it for him, no way. I always wear sexy undies to PTA meetings. What an ass I am.
Anyway, I headed to my car, there were only a few left in the lot, one parked next to mine. It was dark, I didn’t see anyone in the other car so I was startled when the passenger window rolled down as I unlocked my door. I spun around and there he was.
“Did I scare you? I thought you saw me. Sorry”.
“No, it’s just so dark. I. . .” — I what Nicole? Think of something. I…I…I want to show you my new panties. — “So, great meeting tonight”. That’s what you decided to say? Holy shit.
He laughed at me. ”I guess…if you’re starved for excitement”. And then came the look. ”You hungry?”
“For excitement?” I asked, totally clueless.
He laughed at me again. ”No, for food. I haven’t eaten yet.”
Could I look like a bigger ass in front of this guy? ”Well, I ate before the meeting”. The answer is, YES! You can look like a bigger ass!
“Yes, Mister Lambert”.
“Get in the car”, he smiled. I guess I wasn’t fooling him either.
I got in the car. I sat there, frozen. I was so nervous I couldn’t even look at him.
I could hardly breathe. I felt him staring at me. ”Yes?”
He leaned in closer. I felt his hot breath in my ear, then he whispered. . .”I like it when you call me Mister Lambert”.
Something inside me switched “on”. That was fucking dirty…and I liked it.
He turned my face toward him and kissed me…hard. No easing into it. I felt like I was going to explode. He unbuttoned my shirt. I felt dizzy, the windows were steaming up. I started getting a god damned hot flash. He kissed down my neck, over my breast then…he bit my nip. I gasped. Suddenly the background music seemed to turn into a porn soundtrack…chicka pow wow.
“Oh Mister Lambert”!
After years of marriage I forgot the first rule of dating…Don’t give it away on the first date! The second rule of dating…Don’t give it away on the first date!
But I did. And now I’m back in high school, waiting by the phone. He said he’d call Thursday, it’s now Saturday. Why would he call? I gave him the prize and he didn’t even have to work for it. Handed it right to him. Game over.
I need therapy. I keep doing things that make me feel horrible about myself. I’m spiraling downward and I can’t stop. One of the things I feel horrible about is how I handled things with Ryan. I was selfish and should have told him about his wife and Erich. I came out looking really bad in that situation. Then yesterday I felt even worse. I was in my car reading while waiting for my son’s baseball practice to end (football is over, baseball now), Ryan’s son is also on the team. I had seen him earlier but figured there was no way he’d talk to me so I just buried my nose in a book. I was surprised when he tapped on my window. I rolled it down, he asked how I was.
“I’m okay…you”? I pasted on a phony smile.
“Alright, I guess. How’s it going with you and Erich”?
I’m sure the “ugh” face I made was enough but I answered anyway. ”Not good. Separate rooms. Tension. Just trying to hold it together for the kids. How about you guys”?
“Trying to hold it together too. Listen, I wanted to apologize for what happened. You weren’t to blame. It wasn’t your place to tell me. . .”
“No. I should have told you. I’m really sorry. Really, really sorry. I was being selfish”. Whew…that felt good to get out!
“The whole thing was a mess. I just wanted you to know I wasn’t mad at you or anything. You were going through your own shit”. He smiled, warm and genuine.
He’s really nice. God dammit…I’m really stupid.
I guess he saw I was bummed, although I don’t think he realized why. It wasn’t because of my marriage, it was him. I really blew it. He tried to lighten the mood. ”So, you look really pretty”. His tone was so soft and sweet, I wanted to cry.
Just as I was about to say something, my cell phone rang. I glanced at the number…Lambert. Guess the game is back on. I tensed up, Ryan noticed.
“I’ll let you get that. I just wanted to reach out, let you know how I felt. Take care Nicole”. Then he walked away. Shit!
I answered the phone. Too late. Double shit! Should I call him back? Then, my text message chimed.
“Meet me tonight, 10pm at Fourth Street Cinema. I’ll be in theater 2, back row. Wear a skirt. Mr. Lambert“
What the fuck? Who the hell does he think he is? He just assumes I have no plans and assumes I’ll follow his orders? What an asshole. No fricken way am I going.
I went back to reading my book. I read the same paragraph ten times and still didn’t know what it was about. Dammit! I’m not going. Of course the little devil on my shoulder was deciding which skirt I should wear. She is very powerful. She took control of my fingers and texted him back…
“See you at 10″.
The Sound of Music – XXX
Saturday night I met Lambert at the 4th Avenue Cinema, a cute little theater that only plays old films. As I walked toward it, freezing my ass off because he told me to wear a skirt, I see: Now Showing – The Sound of Music. Seriously?
As directed I purchased my ticket…I guess we’re going dutch…and entered the theater. It was dark and Julie Andrews was already standing on a hill singing. I heard “pssssst”, turned and saw Lambert just where he said he’d be, seated in the back row.
I scooted through a row of empty seats, and noticed he had a full bucket of popcorn on his lap. Oh my God. He’s not gonna try the old hole in the bucket of popcorn trick, is he? I plopped down next to him.
“You like The Sound of Music?”, he asked. What? No, “Hi Nicole, you sure look nice in that skirt”?
“I guess. I haven’t seen it in forever though”. I was too embarrassed to tell him I actually saw it a few years back with some girlfriends. We went to a showing slash sing-a-long, and dressed in costume. The menopausal von Trapp sisters.
“Want some popcorn”? He asked. My distrust was obviously transparent, because he lifted the bucket to show there would be nothing hiding at the bottom besides a few dead kernels. I smiled and took a handful, looking at him as he watched the movie.
I sat there a while, periodically glancing at him, his eyes glued to the screen. Finally I couldn’t take it anymore. “I’m just wondering, is this your favorite movie or something”?
His eyes never left the screen. ”Shhhhh. You shouldn’t talk during a movie Nicole, it’s rude”. He continued to shovel popcorn in his mouth.
What the hell? There’s no one else in the theater. Who the fuck is going to see the late night showing of The Sound of Music on a Saturday night anyway? This is too weird, he’s too weird. I grabbed my purse and stood up. “I think I’m gonna go. Thanks for the movie”.
As I turned to leave, he grabbed my wrist and squeezed, hard. “Nicole”, he put down the popcorn then slid his hand slowly up my inner thigh. Up it went until….bingo! He ran his finger over my panties. Oh shit.
“Sit down”, he said as he moved the popcorn.
I sat, then he leaned over and kissed me. His hand slid back up my inner thigh and this time…he went in.
We basically did everything but have sex back there, while the von Trapp children serenaded us, Nazis invaded and then finally everyone ended up on the hill.
When the movie ended, we giggled, fixed our clothes and kissed a little more. I can honestly say that was the most fun I’ve ever had at the movies in my life.
Then he walked me to my car and said, “I’ll call you some time this week”. Wait…that’s it? Really?
He pecked me on the cheek, got in his car and drove off. Just then, the theater lights went out. I stood there in the dark, confused and unsatisfied.
So, on the way home I stopped at Wendy’s and got a large chocolate Frosty. I held it between my legs while I drove and that helped a little. But nothing, no song, no radio station, would get those fucking von Trapp kids out of my head! It was like my Disney ”It’s a Small World” nightmare all over again.
So long, farewell Auf Weidersehen, goodbye
My life is officially a Jerry Springer episode
What has happened to my life? I just found out that my husband in the dungeon has been seeing my older sister. Okay, she’s just my step sister and I can’t stand her anyway or else I’d be going bat shit crazy right now. At this moment, I’m just regular crazy. This goes beyond crossing the line. This hurdles into Jerry Springer territory. What the hell is the matter with him? I’m disgusted with her although I can sort of understand a lonely, pathetic spinster lusting after a younger, off limits guy. But him? Ugh. What am I supposed to do with this information, besides throw up? I guess nothing. I need to not think about it, like ever, ever again.
What makes certain people capable of “crossing the line” anyway? Like mothers who go after their daughter’s boyfriends, teachers or coaches who seduce students, PRIESTS! Some would say it probably stems from some sort of abuse in their past. But I don’t buy that. If you were abused, you’d know how horrible it made you feel so wouldn’t you make sure you NEVER did that to someone else? I have a history of abuse, nothing huge, just a piano teacher who had wandering hands. But it made me more sensitive to the issue. I don’t know. People are fucked up. I don’t usually let things get to me but this has really done a number on me. I may need to go on a little vacation before I’m forced to take one…in a rubber room or behind bars.
ROBBING A BANK: A win/win situation for me.
The way I figure, if I robbed a bank one of two things would happen. I’d either get away with it and have a bunch of money to start over or…I’d get locked up and finally have some peace and quiet (except for the occasional prison riot).
If I was locked up, I’d be away from the people in my life who cause me great stress like my husband in the dungeon and my two selfish and completely insane teenagers. I wouldn’t be tormented by my high-schoolish feelings of revenge against “the popular girls” (AKA football mom clique) and in a women’s prison I certainly wouldn’t be tempted by scoundrels. No scoundrels to coax me into doing things I’d later regret. Things that felt good at the time but made me feel worse about myself later.
My most recent encounter with the scoundrel Lambert is a perfect example. He sent me a text on Friday, not asking me but telling me to meet him at a diner a few towns over. He also said, again, to wear a skirt. I ignored this text for about three hours until I lost the fight with the very persuasive (and horny) bad Nicole, and agreed to meet him.
It was late at night and he was sitting at a booth all the way in a back corner, on the side facing the wall. As I approached the table, I thought about turning around but it was like a magnet was pulling me. A magnet aimed right at my cooch.
The second I sat, he gave me that look. Oh those smoldering brown eyes. Any defense I had built up came tumbling down. I wasn’t seated for more than 10 seconds before the waitress came to the table. She looked only at Lambert.
“You ready to order hun?”
Instinctively I looked around, there was no menu on the table. Before I could point that out he was ordering.
“We’ll have two turkey clubs and two coffees”, he said, not consulting me, not even with his eyes.
“Sure thing”, she said with a sexy, almost knowing smile.
As she walked away I thought, This man is so pushy and rude, so why am I still sitting here? Funny thing is, I probably would have ordered a turkey club anyway. I don’t frequent diners often but when I do, that’s what I order.
“I like your skirt”, he said.
Finally, a compliment. “Thanks. Still a little cold for a short skirt though”, I said playfully.
He leaned over, looked under the table then glanced up at me. “Take your panties off”.
I closed my legs and giggled nervously, “No way”.
He sat up and looked around the diner. There weren’t many tables occupied and we were pretty far away from the other customers. “No one will see you. Take them off for me”.
I was frozen. “Nicole”, he said in a coaxing way. He smiled but it was like a, you’d better do what I say or you’re gonna be in big trouble kind of smile.
Oh fine. I hiked up one side of my skirt, hooked my thumb in and slid them down. Just as they got to my knees, the waitress walked up with our food. I actually felt a breeze drift up my skirt. My face flushed.
She put our plates down and looked at Lambert. “Anything else”?
“No, we’re fine. Thanks.”
He watched her ass as she walked away. My panties are around my knees and this son of a bitch is looking a the waitress’ ass. I really need to get out of here.
Annoyed, I reached down to pull them up. “I’m not taking them off. This is stupid”.
With that he lifted his foot, hooked them on my panties and pulled them all the way down, smiling the whole time. I was stuck, his foot was holding them down and the only way I’d be able to move is if I gave in and slid them over my shoes. No way. We glared at each other a moment then he picked up his sandwich and took a bite. I did the same.
I’m sure everything appeared normal as we ate, but under the table we were in a battle over my undies. At first I was pissed but eventually it struck me funny and it turned into a bizarre game of tug of war until finally, I let him win.
He reached down, grabbed my panties and twirled them on his finger in victory. Just then, the waitress stopped by. I was mortified. He had my panties in his hand.
“You guys need anything?”
“We’re fine, thanks”, he said. Then like it was a napkin, he dabbed the corners of his mouth with my panties. She smiled, again knowingly, then walked away.
I reached over and tried to grab them but he was too quick and shoved them into his jacket pocket. Defeated, I took another bite of my club sandwich then suddenly, he disappeared under the table. I continued to eat, trying hard to appear normal while he forced my legs apart. It was all I could do not to reenact the orgasm scene from “When Harry Met Sally.”
After about fifteen minutes he resurfaced. We got our food to go and before we left I noticed he tipped the waitress twenty bucks.
Again, he said goodbye to me in the parking lot. I felt ”satisfied” this time, no Frosty required for the ride home, but I felt used. How can someone make me feel so good and so bad at the same time?
Later, as I sat in bed alone, eating my club sandwich, I devised my plan to rob a bank. Or maybe I’ll just go get a massage tomorrow.
Part 1 of: What I Did on My Spring Vacation…
With my kids at their Grandparent’s in Florida for spring break and my husband away on a supposed business trip, I spent Easter solo for the first time in my life.
Being alone, I felt a sense of peace come over me and soaked it in. Lounging on my chaise, I sipped my coffee while listening to the Ambient channel on my XM Radio. No moody, demanding teenagers working my nerves and no tense run ins with the husband. It was bliss… until my female brain went to work.
I started thinking about my evil step sister, Shannon, who is now fooling around with my husband. I decided to call the good step sister, to wish her a happy Easter and feel her out, wondering if she knew what her bitch sister was up to. This was a bad idea. I didn’t get the impression she knew about the affair but she informed me that Shannon had gone to New Orleans for Easter break. It just so happens New Orleans was Eric’s business trip destination. These two idiots are on vacation together. I felt sick to my stomach. So much for peace.
After two more cups of coffee I was well worked up. Consumed with anger, I needed something, or someone to help me release it. So, I sent Lambert a text, informing him I had the house all to myself this week. A few hours passed with no reply. Ready to jump out of my skin I decided to go out. I just started driving in no specific direction and ended up at Shannon’s house. This was my father’s house, he willed it to her (a story for another time). I spent weekends and holidays there from five to eighteen years old and…I still had a key.
I parked my car at the end of the long driveway and went around to the back door. I started to get excited. What was I going to do when I got in there? Maybe bust a pipe and flood her out. Or glue all her windows shut. So many ideas were running through my head but it didn’t matter because my key didn’t work. The bitch had changed the locks. Now what?
As I stood on the back porch I thought back on how she used to torture me. She really had my father snowed. He never believed me when I told him the things she did, he thought I was jealous of her. But just like a man, he had it backward, she was jealous of me. I was his biological daughter, his blood and that drove her crazy so she did everything she could to drive a wedge between us. It worked.
Now she has her hooks in Eric. I’m sure this makes her feel superior even though I don’t want him anymore. I got myself so pissed off my ears were burning hot. Then I remembered the laundry room window. I had broken the lock when I was a teen so I could sneak back into the house if I missed curfew. I doubt she ever knew it was broken since she’d never be able to slide her fat ass through it.
So I checked and glory be, it was still broken. I put my handbag down, got on my knees and went in legs first. It was a tighter squeeze than it used to be but I managed to slide half-way in and then…I got stuck. Boobs. Dammit. I forgot about the boobs. They’re much bigger now.
I struggled to pull myself out but my arms weren’t strong enough. On the other side my feet just kept sliding on the wall. What a mess.
I tried not to panic but I seriously couldn’t move. Just don’t panic. Whatever you do, don’t panic. Oh my God, I’m going to die like this! How humiliating! And the worst part is, the bitch will think she got the best of me!
Then, in a true “saved by the bell” moment, my phone chimed. I grabbed it out of my bag, it was a text from Lambert. “Leave your front door unlocked, turn off the lights, remove all your clothes and hide. I’ll be there in an hour. Let me find you.”
Oh for Christ’s sake. I’m really over his weirdness but I need him to get me out of here. I texted back. “Mr. Lambert, I need your help. I’m stuck in a window at 153 Stoc”. The low battery signal started flashing. I quickly hit send…the phone turned off. Son of a bitch!
Stay tuned for Part 2 of: What I Did on My Spring Vacation
Part 2 of: What I Did on My Spring Vacation
As darkness fell and my bladder filled I realized I needed to do something or risk being eaten alive by raccoons.
I really only had two options. 1) scream until someone called the police or, 2) lop off a boob like James Franco lopped off his arm in that movie “127 Hours”.
The sharpest thing I had in my bag was an Emory board so option 2 was out. I was going to have to scream and really loud. The homes are at least an acre apart here.
I ran through the scenario in my head. The police would show up. They’d pull me out and arrest me and of course contact evil Shannon. I could just picture it. I’d be locked in a cell while they laughed their asses off in New Orleans. He’d leave me in jail to rot. My kids would hate me. When I joked about robbing a bank, being sent to jail didn’t sound so bad. But now that I was actually faced with the possibility, it scared the crap out of me. Maybe I’ll opt for number 3, offering myself as a Pupu Platter for raccoons.
As I savored my last minutes as a free, albeit stuck woman, a car pulled down the driveway. Oh my God. They came back early.
The car door shut. Only one door. Jesus. She’s by herself. She’ll find me and torture me like she did when we were kids. She’ll stuff something in my mouth so I can’t scream then go in the house and do horrible things like duct tape my feet together then tickle them until I throw up. Or maybe she’ll…
“Nicole? Nicole are you here?” It was Lambert.
“I’m over here.” It was dark, I couldn’t see him but I heard him getting closer. “Over here.” Then, through the darkness, I saw him. “Down here”, I said.
He walked closer and finally spotted me. He stared at me a moment, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
“Hurry up, I have to pee really bad”.
He kneeled in front of me. “What the hell is going on?”
“I’ll tell you while you pull me out”.
“Okay”. He assessed the situation then grabbed me under my arms and pulled. It wasn’t working.
“It feels like my belt loop is stuck on something”, I said.
“Maybe I can reach…” He wedged his arm in the window, trying to find what was stuck. His crotch was right in my face. “I can’t get to it. Shit.”
He pulled his arm out and looked at me, frustrated and confused. ”Whose house is this Nicole? And why were you sneaking in the window?”
“It’s my step sister’s house. Well, it was my Dad’s house, but he left it to her.”
“And?” I could tell he wasn’t going to help unless I told him the truth.
“My husband and my step sister are messing around. Right now they’re together in New Orleans.”
“Well that really sucks. But it doesn’t explain why you’re hanging out of a window.”
“I just, I was thinking about it and I got mad. I had a key, she changed the locks. I don’t know why I came here. I was just pissed off.” It sounded stupid because it was stupid. He could see I was upset and lightened up.
“I have an idea”. He reached down and squeezed my boob. I didn’t know what he was doing until my boob slid into the window. He did the same with the other. “Okay, now move around and see if you can get your belt loop free.”
I did as he said and it came free right away. “It’s not stuck anymore. You can pull me out now.”
“I think our best bet is for you to stick with your original plan and go in. I’m going to hold your arms as you slide down”.
He held tight as I slowly slid down to the floor. I stood a moment, my legs were a bit shaky. He looked down at me through the window. “Now go open the basement door. And Nicole…try not to leave any fingerprints.”
Oh yeah, I thought. Good thinking. I flipped on the light switch with my elbow then pulled my sleeve over my hand and opened the cellar door.
“It’s open!” I couldn’t wait, I had to pee so bad. I sprinted up the steps and tried not to leave any prints as I ran for the bathroom. I went in, kicked the door closed and sat. Oh sweet relief. Not just my bladder but the whole situation.
When I came out of the bathroom I saw Lambert standing at the end of the hall staring into the spare bedroom. With a stunned expression he turned to me. “Holy shit Nicole, your step sister is a freak”.
Oh my God what is it? I was scared to look. If freaky ass Lambert thought she was a freak it had to be pretty bad. I had to see it though. Apprehensively I made my way over, stood behind him and looked over his shoulder.
I couldn’t believe what I saw. “What the hell?”
Tune in for Part 3 of: What I Did on My Spring Vacation
Part 3 of: What I Did on My Spring Vacation
At first I wasn’t sure what I was looking at. It was a nursery, sort of. The furniture looked like regular furniture that someone had altered to look like baby furniture. For a really big baby.
“Do you know what this is Nicole?”
“I’m not really sure. She doesn’t have a baby.”
“This isn’t for a baby, it’s for adults. It’s a fetish room. Your step sister is into some really weird shit.”
I still didn’t understand. I squeezed passed him to get a better look. Everything was oversized. Then I saw the huge diapers. Oh…My…God.
Lambert picked up a large photo album, “My Precious Baby”. We looked at each other. I’m sure we were both thinking…don’t open it. But we had to, out of morbid curiosity.
“Holy shit.” Lambert slowly flipped through the pages of grown men in diapers, some drinking out of bottles and….ewwwwwwww…Shannon breastfeeding. He dropped the book and left the room.
Seconds later he called to me from the other room, “Let’s get out of here Nicole, come on.”
I picked up the book and put it back where it was then headed out. Suddenly something struck me. I went back in the room and over to the book. I had to check. I flipped through the pages of these men who, besides the diaper, looked like average guys. There were at least thirty pages of them and then…there it was. On the last page. Eric. In a diaper.
Lambert came back to the door. “Nicole, let’s go. Nicole?”
I couldn’t move. Shock maybe. Total shock. How can this be happening? Who is this person I married? I felt Lambert next to me, he was looking at the picture too. “It’s Eric. My husband”.
He gently took the book from me, put it back where it was and guided me out of the room. “I don’t understand”, I said. But I did understand.
Suddenly I got angry. Furious. Disgusted. Humiliated. You name it, I felt it.
When we got to the living room, I stopped. I grabbed a vase and threw it across the room…FUCK YOU Eric!. Then I picked up a Yankee Candle jar…Oh, Macintosh apple, my favorite. FUCK YOU Shannon!…I threw that too. Lambert was startled at first but then just let me go. He stood by the door and watched.
She had a bunch of decorative plates hanging on the wall, like Frisbees I threw every single one of them. I smashed her two lamps then picked one up and used it like a bat. I struck the flat screen TV, then the DVD player. I smashed everything in sight then stood there and looked at it. It needed one more thing.
I went back to the demented nursery, picked up the book and brought it back to the living room. I opened it to Eric’s picture and propped it in the middle of the mess.
“Are you sure you want to do that? They’ll obviously know it was you.”
“I want them to know. I’m ready to go now, Mr. Lambert.”
He took me by the hand and led me out.
When we got to our cars he asked, “Do you wanna go out for a drink or something?” He was being very sweet actually. I think he felt sorry for me. Lambert has a gentle side, what do you know…
I looked at him, oh those smoldering eyes. ”Meet me at my house in an hour. The door will be unlocked. I’ll be hiding. Come find me.”
I got in my car and laughed. Oh Eric. I’m gonna screw Lambert in our house, in our bed. You sick son of a bitch. I always knew you were a big fucking baby.
As I lay sleeping…(What I Did on My Spring Vacation, Grand Finale)
After a night of exhausting passion with Mr. Lambert, I slept in for the first time in years. I woke up at 11, refreshed and ready to deal with what I found out about Eric yesterday. I called out to see if Lambert was still in the house. I didn’t think he would be, he told me he had an appointment at 10 am. I actually appreciated that he didn’t wake me up. Still naked, I threw on my robe, grabbed a cup of coffee then took a shower.
While in the shower I made a big decision. I think most clearly in the shower, I’m not sure why. Anyway, I decided that this marriage has to end. It’s been over for a while but now he needs to leave. I know we’re not fooling the kids so what’s the point? I felt really good about that. Like a weight had been lifted.
Energized and empowered I went to get dressed for the day only to find that ALL of my underwear was missing. My panties drawer was empty and I had just done laundry so I knew it was full. I just stood there, baffled. He stole my panties? What the hell?
I checked the hamper, the two pairs I knew were in there were gone. I checked the dryer, none in there. Holy crap. I’ve been panty raided. Who the hell does that?
So my plans for the day were to go to the gym, meet with the divorce lawyer, do a big food shopping since everyone comes home tomorrow and now I had to add a trip to Victoria’s Secret. I really need to stay away from this guy.
Sexual Fetishes: Where do you draw the line?
I never considered myself a prude until recently. I like sex and admit to being a bit “pervy” on occasion but this whole fetish culture, which seems more visible since the “Fifty Shades of Grey” phenomenon, it just boggles my mind what some of these people are into. I’m even more shocked at how many people act out these weird and sometimes disturbing fetishes.
So now that I’m heading back into the dating scene, I guess I need to figure out where I draw the line. And how do I let guys know where my line is? That’s sort of an odd conversation to have on a first date. Seated at a table in a nice restaurant, asking those typical first date “getting to know you” questions:
HIM: ”I’ve heard they have really great steaks here. What’s your favorite food?”
ME: ”I don’t eat red meat but I love fish. Have you ever licked anyone’s toes?”
HIM: ”Excuse me?”
ME: ”Or used someone as a human toilet? Have you ever found an animal “attractive”?
HIM: ”Are you joking?”
ME: ”Just answer the questions please. Do you own any leather garments besides a jacket? Do you believe pantyhose are just for women?”
HIM: ”This is ridiculous.”
ME: ”Just one more question. Other than when you were a child, have you ever worn a diaper or dressed up in a furry costume?”
HIM: ”I will not sit through any more of these questions. And for your information, dressing up in a furry costume and rubbing against my plushy friends is not strange. It’s comforting. Goodbye Nicole, you prude.”
Good thing my kids are grown cus I don’t think I could ever go to Disney World again.
A week had passed since Eric returned from his “business trip” and he wasn’t acting any different. It was torturing me. I’d think he was doing it on purpose, like psychological warfare, but he isn’t that smart. How could he be so calm? Not only did he find out I had discovered his affair with my evil step sister but I trashed her living room, found her adult nursery and saw his man-baby portrait. Yet he was his normal, douche-bag self…it was diabolical!
I couldn’t take it anymore so I decided to call Carol, the good step sister. I had to think of an excuse since I just called her on Easter and we only speak a few times a year. She’s nice enough, we just have nothing in common. She’s much older than me, lives with a herd of cats and sits around all day making those hideous, random refrigerator magnets you see at the K-Mart checkout.
The magnets. I’ll tell her I want to learn how to make the magnets.
With a plan in place, I called Carol. After an excruciating hour of magnet talk she mentioned that someone broke into Shannon’s house while she was away.
“Oh my goodness, that’s terrible!”, I say.
“She’s terrified. Apparently they wrecked her living room, smashed everything to bits. Can you believe people these days?”
“Horrible. So…was that it? Just the living room?”
“Well, I probably shouldn’t tell you this but whoever did it…well they…they stole all of her underwear.”
“I know. Sick. So I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow. I just got a shipment of crafts so that should keep us busy all day. Goodbye dear.” Carol hung up. I just stood there, frozen.
He went back and stole her underwear. This is a sickness. What the hell does he do with them? Never mind, I don’t want to know.
I had avoided returning Lambert’s texts all week, he kept saying we needed to talk. Yeah, I guess so. So I sent him a reply saying I’d been busy and to get in touch with me when he had a chance.
So this morning while crafting cheesy refrigerator magnets with my step sister Carol and her eight cats, Lambert got in touch. He never mentioned the underwear but told me he returned to Shannon’s house the next morning. He was afraid I’d get in trouble since I left the photo album out so he went back and took it. He also said there was something else he had to tell me but it would have to be in person. So much for avoiding him. We’re meeting tomorrow night, and I’m NOT going to wear a skirt.
I sure hope his information equals the eight hours of magnet making fun I had with Carol.
An Accessory for an Accessory
Seems like only yesterday I complained about being a bored housewife. Now, five months later, I’m an accessory to a crime.
As planned, I met Lambert Saturday night. He wanted to go somewhere private so we met behind an abandoned building at the edge of town. After all the stress I’d been under, I was looking forward to a little demented fun. Unfortunately fun was not what he had in mind.
We sat in his car. Lambert wasn’t his usual mysterious, feisty self. Instead he was high-strung and nervous. Immediately he broke out the photo album.
“I have to show you something”. He was excited, like he couldn’t wait to show me.
He opened to a photo of a man in his late 50′s, bald head and hairy chest, in a diaper with a pacifier in his mouth. Ewww. I don’t get how this could possibly turn someone on.
“Does he look familiar to you?” Lambert asked. ”Focus on his face.”
Lambert covered the guy’s body with his hand. Actually, he did look familiar. Holy shit…who the hell is that? I knew him but just couldn’t place him.
Lambert couldn’t wait anymore, “It’s Principal Burke”.
Oh my God it was. I was in total shock. “Why are you showing me this?”
“That bastard Burke has done nothing but give me a hard time since I began teaching there. I’ve put in fifteen years. He was just a teacher when I started.”
Lambert was angry, this can’t be good. “What are you gonna do?”
“I want him out, but not before he gives me a glowing recommendation for Vice Principal.”
“That’s blackmail”, I said. No shit, Captain Obvious. “I don’t want to be involved in this”.
“You’re already involved Nicole. But don’t worry, he’ll do anything to keep this from coming out. Just think of it as payment for getting you out of trouble that night.”
“It sounds like you’re blackmailing me”. I was pissed but also scared shitless.
“Do you really expect me to just sit on this information? That sounds pretty hypocritical from someone who broke into her step sister’s house.”
He had a point. Lately I’ve been the queen of revenge. Dammit. “You’re sure he’ll comply?”
“Nicole, this would ruin him if it got out.” He was very convincing but then he took my hand and turned on the smolder. “I wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you.”
I kept thinking, he knows that I know he stole all my underwear. Are we never going to mention that? Then, he kissed me.
He unbuttoned my blouse as he kissed my neck then lightly nibbled my ear and whispered, “Are you with me Nicole?”
I just have no willpower over this sexy, deviant, blackmailing underwear thief. “Yes, Mister Lambert. I’m with you.”
And no, I don’t mean he’s koo koo for CoCo Puffs. I saw this article today, categorized under “Weird News” in my local paper: “Police are investigating a number of home burglaries in which the suspect(s) only stole female under garments. The incidents, which appear to be related, have occurred over a six month period. Local police urge anyone with information to please come forward.”
Could it be Lambert? It’s just so demented. I Googled “Panty Thief” and was surprised how many cases there were of people doing this. Is it a conspiracy? Maybe this is Victoria’s secret. She hires men to steal women’s panties so they’re forced to buy new ones. They could at least leave a freakin’ coupon.
My Favorite Vice…
Vice: a behavior or habit generally considered immoral, depraved, or degrading. Synonyms for vice include: depravity, sin, wickedness, and corruption.
So what’s my favorite vice?
It’s not chocolate or vodka…or chocolate vodka.
It’s not ice cream or tattoos…or ice cream tattoos.
It’s not johnsons or flashy clothes…or Johnsons in flashy clothes.
My favorite vice is…Vice Principal Lambert.
Officially announced at last night’s school board meeting: due to “personal reasons” Principal Burke handed in his resignation. Effective immediately, current VP Beth Little will take over as Principal and Mr. Lambert as Vice Principal.
The meeting was pretty crowded and they both gave brief “thank you” speeches. Lambert thanked his co-workers for their support, thanked Mr. Burke for his “recommendation” and lastly he said:
“I also want to thank the most important woman in my life. If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t be where I am now”…
I looked around the room trying to figure out who the hell he was going to thank.
“Nicole”…HOLY SHIT!!…”Lambert”…HUH??? “My mother“.
His mother’s name is Nicole? Ding, ding, ding…we have reached the top of the Creep-O-Meter.
“Come up here Mom”. We all watched old Mother Lambert inch up to the stage with her walker.
“My Mother taught me everything I know. Thank you Mom.”
Everything? I guess I should thank her too. Thanks Mrs. Lambert! Now can you please tell your son to give me my undies back?
Remorse for Repercussions of my Revenge?
Must I remove myself from reality? Remain repressed, restrain resentment, regretting my response to reprehensible acts by repulsive riffraff? Ridiculous. I rejoice at the results of my refusal to retreat. I reject responsibility for any ramifications and recognize that my recovery is relevant. I am relaxed, rejuvenated and resolved to rebound.
That being said, I am not responsible and feel no remorse for the following:
- My impending divorce.
- Eric’s old fling Lisa relocating her job after receiving an anonymous letter at work informing her she smelled like a rotten fish.
- Principal Burke’s sudden retirement.
- My evil step-sister Shannon’s mysterious disappearance.
Yep, you heard me right. The bitch is gone. Last night Carol called in a panic asking if I’d seen her. Of course I had not. Then she asked if I would find out if Eric has heard from her. This leads me to believe Carol is well aware that Shannon and Eric are messing around. Jesus, if you can’t trust a cat crazy magnet crafter these days, who can you trust?
So, I asked Eric and it went something like this:
“Eric, Carol called very upset. She believes Shannon has disappeared and wanted me to ask if you’ve seen her.”
“Why would I have seen Shannon? She’s your sister. Why would I have seen your sister? What are you implying?”
“I’m not implying anything you fucking moron, I’m relaying a message from Carol. If anyone is implying something, she is.”
“I think you both are, now that you’re best friends. Hanging out, making magnets together.”
“How did you know I hung out with Carol? I never told you that.” Ha! Let’s hear what you have to say now….
“I know things Nicole. I know more than you think I know. I happen to know all about so much around here that my head hurts. It’s a lot of information and I have it all stored and it’s going to come out at the right time and you’re not going to look so smart when it does come out.”
I was mesmerized. It was like watching an accident in slow motion and his car was spinning out of control. He kept talking as he nervously began to shove clothes into a bag.
“Like I know you went out and bought all new underwear. Who did you do that for? That’s right. I found the receipt and don’t think I won’t use that in court. Men know why women buy new underwear so don’t act all innocent with me. I know what you’re up to, I know. How dare you accuse me of anything. I’m not putting up with that. No sir. I’m outta here.”
With that he zipped up his bag, threw it over his shoulder and headed up the stairs but before he reached the top I got in a quick response.
Through the rail I could see his feet stop on the top step. I can only guess what was going through his head at that moment. “Whaaaa. Whaaaa. Whaaaa!”
Then he left. Goodbye fuckwad!
Before my relaxing and celebratory bubble bath I texted Lambert. We chatted about Shannon and he said he might have an idea what happened to her. Oh God…now what? We’re meeting tomorrow night to discuss it. Calgon, take me away…..
I need a catchy title…
The events of this past month are truly book-worthy. How about, “The Nanny Napper” or maybe “The Disappearance of the Diapering She-Devil”. Wait…I’ve got it! “The Scandalous Secrets of Shanny the Nanny”.
“Shanny the Nanny” is what she calls herself. More importantly, this is what her clients call her. Shanny’s long client list include not only the newly retired Principal Burke, but many other high-profile names. How do I know this? Because Lambert confessed to not only retrieving the bizarre man-baby photo album from Shannon’s house, but grabbing her computer as well.
That was the first bombshell. Then came the second.
Lambert anonymously used some incriminating information he found on her computer against several of these high-profile clients. I guess he saw how well it worked with Principal Burke so he thought what the hell, let’s just bribe, extort and threaten some high-ranking people. Lambert believes one of these people thought Shannon was making the threats and they…well…who knows what they did to her but she’s gone! Was she fitted for cement shoes? Sent on a one way trip to Siberia? Put into a wood chipper and is now fertilizer? Right now it’s a mystery only a few of us knows about. Carol doesn’t want to report her missing yet.
Now for number three. Eric was served his divorce papers at work yesterday. I totally forgot that I had listed his affair with Shannon as one of the reasons for divorce. Cut to the chase…Eric thinks I’m responsible for Shannon’s disappearance. It doesn’t help that he knows I know about the diaper thing. He knows it was me who took the photo album and I assume he thinks I took the computer. Holy crap what a mess. He threatened to tell the police so I threatened to make his diaper photo and his affair with my step sister public. We ended in a stalemate…for now.
So what the hell happens now? Guilt riddled Lambert thinks we should do some detective work. He had contacted four people on that list so it has to be one of them. I always wanted to be Nancy Drew. Who should Lambert be? Sherlock Holmes? (the Robert Downey Jr. version) Or Magnum P.I.? Nah..I’m not a moustache gal. I do however, really dig ascots…ZOIKS!
Tips for a Successful Stakeout
Whether you’re the police watching a criminal, a private detective snooping on a spouse, a crazy obsessed stalker or just two people trying to find out which perve you’re blackmailing kidnapped a “demented diaperer”, I’ve comprised a list of tips to help you plan a successful stakeout.
The list is in order of major fails, not importance. For those just joining in, I’m hoping to find answers on the whereabouts of my missing stepsister, Shannon. It’s not that I care about this skanky ho who treated me like crap my whole life and then screwed my husband. It’s that I’m afraid I’ll be the prime suspect in her disappearance once her sister Carol decides to report her missing. It’s sort of a no brainer since I broke into her house only days before she vanished.
Anyway, we first chose to stakeout The Honorable George Mason because he seemed to have the most to lose. We watched the not-so-honorable judge’s home for ten long hours and experienced the failures below. The whopper of all fails I’m going to make an unwritten tip…make sure you have the right address! After ten hours of watching we realized we were camped in front of Judge Mason’s rental property occupied by a large Chinese family.
TIPS FOR A SUCCESSFUL STAKEOUT:
1.) MESS-FREE SNACKS – A car probably wasn’t the best place to try and impress Lambert with my cooking skills. Hot crab dip equals hot mess.
2.) BINOCULARS – Yeah. Pretty fricken important. It kinda worries me that we missed this one. Might be why it took us so long to identify Chinese people.
3.) DON’T DRAW ATTENTION TO YOURSELF. Let’s just say that Lambert’s bright yellow classic Vette was not a good idea.
4.) COMFORT – (ties into #3) Bucket seats, gear shift, no backseat. All bad for stakeouts as well as stakeout foreplay.
5.) BATHROOM – A bigger issue for me than Lambert. We were parked in a neighborhood. I couldn’t very well knock on someone’s door and ask to use their “facilities”. We couldn’t leave because we might miss something. I was forced to squat behind a bush and air dry since I used all the napkins to clean the crab dip mess. I’ll be better prepared next time with lots of TP & hand sanitizer.
6.) DON’T DRINK TOO MUCH! – (obviously ties into #5) No Thirsty two ounce sodas from 7-11 !
7.) GAS THE CAR – Another one I’m a little worried we missed. We called it a night but didn’t even make it to the end of the block before we ran out of gas. This is the moment when Lambert caught his first glimpse of the real me. I was tired and so uncomfortable. All I wanted to do was go home, take a warm bath, put on my jammies and get in bed. I shot him a look that said “you’d better get gas in this car as fast as humanly possible or I will literally…yes, literally, rip your fucking head right off your shoulders”. He was back within 20 minutes. Good boy.
We have another stakeout planned for Friday night. We need to find her fast because I just can’t face Lambert’s “Plan B”. He thinks we can trap her kidnapper if I pose as…Nicole the Nanny.
He stole my panties then he stole my heart…
You learn a lot about a person when you’re in a car together for 3, ten hour stake outs. For example I found out that Lambert is lactose intolerant, plays the trumpet, volunteers at a homeless shelter, taps his fingers incessantly, accidentally killed his horribly abusive step father on a hunting trip when he was 12, rides a unicycle, has five parrots and a third nipple.
I told him stuff too, like when I was 14 I ran away and lived in the woods for 3 weeks when my parents told me they were getting a divorce, I make amazing meatloaf, Jaws scared me out of the ocean forever, cupcakes make me horny, my favorite color is red and I never went to my High School Prom because I was dumped at the last minute. Like most men, Lambert’s eyes glazed over whenever I talked about myself. I didn’t think he retained a word I said but he proved me wrong.
At a PTA meeting last week Lambert, in vice principal mode, volunteered me to chaperone the Junior prom. When my daughter found out she was mortified, but I promised to give her privacy and keep my distance. So on the day of, when we went to the salon to get her hair and nails did, I had mine done as well. I wore something nice and “mom-ish” then spent the night trying not to be too much of a buzz kill. Lambert was busy but when we did see each other we exchanged sexy looks. He even secretly grabbed my ass when we crossed paths near the refreshments table.
After the kids went off to their post-prom parties, a few of us stayed to clean. I hadn’t seen Lambert in a while and assumed he left. As I swept wet confetti off the floor I thought back on my missed prom night. The douche I was supposed to go with dumped me just hours before when the head cheer ho asked him to go because she and her boyfriend had a fight. To add to my teenage nightmare, she was crowned Prom Queen.
I guess I zoned out because I hadn’t noticed the other chaperones had gone. I was alone, standing in the middle of the gym, broom in hand like Cinderella. Suddenly the lights dimmed, a spotlight turned on, disco ball began to spin and music started. “We’ve Got Tonight” by Bob Segar. From out of the darkness walked Lambert, dressed in a tux. God damn he looked good. I was stunned as he approached me, clear box in his hand, corsage inside. Was I dreaming?
“Welcome to your prom Nicole”, he said, eyes smoldering. “You look beautiful”.
I was shaking like a nervous teen as he pinned the corsage on my dress.
“You did this for me?”
Then he pulled something from his jacket pocket. A rhinestone tiara. He placed it on my head. “My Prom Queen.” It was too much. I started to cry. He pulled me close, we danced.
The next song was Styx, “Come Sail Away” and at the best, most rocking part, the ceiling opened and confetti and balloons spilled out.
This man not only listened to me but he remembered all the goofy details from my favorite flowers to my dream prom song list. We danced for a couple more songs, but when Journey’s “Faithfully” started, something came over me. He had made one of my dreams come true. I had to have him. So right there, in the middle of the gym in a pile of wet confetti with 80′s make out music in the background, we added porn to prom. I’ll probably be pulling confetti out of my hoohaa for days but it was worth it.
I’m screwed. I can’t stop thinking about him now. I wonder if he knows what he did to me. Am I falling in love with him? How is this possible? He’s demented. He’s a panty thief! We have another stake out tomorrow night and I already have butterflies I’m so excited to him. This is really bad but that was the best night of my life.
Top Secret Mission – Codename: Nightcrawler
You can’t conduct a successful mission without a cool codename. And no, I’m not a Marvel fan so simmer down comic book geeks. It’s a fishing reference. When I was little, I used to go with my Dad and always felt sorry for those “Nightcrawler” worms he used as bait. Poor things, dangling off a hook, awaiting their doom. Much like me this week except, I was man bait.
Lambert and I were supposed to go on another stakeout the night after prom, but he cancelled. Apparently his mother busted her knee falling off a paddle board. Now we all saw Mother Lambert the night he was appointed Vice Principal, no way that old bat was getting on a paddle board. I think prom night spooked him. I’m surprised but then, not surprised. I’m surprised because we were so close on prom night, at one point I actually thought he was going to tell me he loved me. But I’m not surprised because…he’s a guy, we got close, he panicked.
Not wanting to go to jail, I really needed to find out what happened to Shannon (A.K.A. “Shanny the Nanny”), so I did the stakeout on my own. Lambert told me to text him if anything happened. Honestly, I had only planned to stay a couple hours but I wasn’t in front of Senator Richard’s house ten minutes before he came out and took off in his Jaguar. Still setting up my snacks, I nervously scrambled to get my mini-van started. My hummus platter fell to the floor as I raced to catch up with him. I tailed him for an hour before he finally stopped to get gas. I started to freak because it looked like the Senator was headed to the city and Lambert wasn’t returning my texts.
I decided to keep following him. Even through the Lincoln Tunnel, his Jag was no match for my mini van and years of experience zipping my kids to/from school and practices. Luckily we only drove a few blocks into the city before he pulled in a secured lot and gave his keys to a valet, who seemed to know who he was. I double parked and watched as he approached a steel door, punched a security code on a keypad then enter. Shit!! I should have grabbed my binoculars!
I wasn’t sure what to do. I sent Lambert another text but still, no reply. As I sat there, a BMW pulled into the lot, a man got out and headed to the door. This time I grabbed my binoculars and aimed it at the keypad. ”198374″. Got it, but now what? As the valet got in the BMW I made a snap decision. I left the car double parked, waited for the valet to pull away then ran over to the steel door. My hands shook as I punched in the code, 9-1-8-7-3-4. ”ACCESS DENIED”. Shit! I had the numbers jumbled up. I tried a couple more times with no success. The valet saw me as he headed back to his booth.
“Hey! Are you supposed to be here?” he yelled.
One last chance…1-9-8-3-7-4…the door unlocked. I quickly slipped in. Whew.
It was dark inside. I stood by the door as my eyes adjusted.
Holy shit. What the fuck is this place?
I AM NIGHTCRAWLER…PART II
I couldn’t figure it out. There was a long, dark hall and many doors, some with light peeking underneath. I heard muffled voices, laughter…moaning. Oh shit. The moaning got louder, deeper then…a whip cracked followed by a scream. That’s it, I’m outta here.
I reached for the door but there was no handle. I ran my hands all over the door. I started to freak. Don’t panic Nicole, there has to be a handle. I took a deep, cleansing breath then tried again...holy shit, there’s no handle! How do I get out of here?!
Suddenly the door clicked. A man’s voice came from the other side. “I won’t be long so park close”, he said to someone.
My instincts told me to run. I sprinted down the hall, slipped into a dark room and shut the door. Man it was dark. For real, pitch black. I searched the wall for a light switch. Nothing. Great. I reached for the door…NO HANDLE! Jesus! Who designed this place? Ted Bundy?
I heard someone breathing then…someone touched me.
I screamed. Like a really good horror movie scream.
From the darkness….”Shhhh”.
“Who are you? How do I get out of here?” I asked.
Again, “shhhhhh”. But this time it came from more than one person.
I stood there, terrified then someone took my hand, tender, non threatening. I was led through the room. I shivered as various hands touched my body along the way then, a door opened allowing a faint sliver of light in. I turned, caught a glimpse before the door closed behind me. There were at least twenty naked women in that room.
On the other side of the door I was able to see my rescuer; a handsome man with crystal blue eyes and a warm smile.
When I got my bearings I realized we were in a lounge. He led me to a table and like a gentleman, pulled my chair out then sat across from me.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I guess so. What the hell was that?”
I nervously looked around. The place was intimate, lit with candles and decorated with couches as well as tables and chairs. There were people scattered about. Some mingled and sipped drinks, a few more cozy couples whispered and giggled, and in the corner one couple was in a full make-out hump session on a couch. Whoa…that’s graphic. He caught me staring.
“Your first time here? Didn’t you get a menu?”
“Menu? No. I, ahh..”
He pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket. It was a layout of the place and each room had a name.
“What room were you trying to find?”
“I’m not sure.”
He stared at me a moment, like he was trying to figure me out. Wow…I’ve never seen eyes like that before.
“Who are you here with?” he asked. “You signed the waiver when you came in, didn’t you?”
I didn’t know what to say. He realized I was uncomfortable. “Never mind. That’s none of my business. How about just telling me your name”.
“Nicole”. You told him your real name? You’re a dumb ass!
“Nicole…I’m Mason and I’ll be your tour guide here at The Chamber”.
“The Chamber?” I asked.
“Okay. I don’t even want to know why you don’t know where you are. Let’s just take a look at the menu so you don’t end up somewhere that will scar you for life, like here”. He pointed at a room labeled…
“Plushie Paradise?” I asked, not understanding what I just read.
“It’s where people dress up in animal costumes and hump each other”, he said. “You don’t seem that depraved. I’m assuming that’s not what you’re here for”.
Confused, I read the other room names. “Whip it?”
“That’s pretty self explanatory. It can be fun although sometimes people get carried away and it really hurts”, he said.
I read another room name, “The Confessional?”
“Yeah. It’s pretty sick. People confess to a priest or nun then they, well, have to do their penance. It’s more popular than you’d think”.
This place is demented. I needed to know more. “What’s the Womb Room?” I asked.
“Nicole…you don’t want to know. The Walking Dead Room is new. Zombie sex. Zombies are really popular right now”.
I studied the map for an escape. “Is this Back Door room a way out?”
He laughed. “Not quite. It’s, well…you know”.
I didn’t know. I had no idea what he was talking about or what this fucking place was. I just wanted to get out of here. Oh wait…back door. I get it. No, not going there. Eric tried to sneak in there once and I was in pain for a week. Never, ever again…ever. Ouch.
There were a few more rooms on the map. “What’s the Crib”?
“Grownup babies. Adult diapers, bottle feedings, spanking, Nannies”, he answered.
— BINGO!! —
“Mostly men go in there, if you can believe it.” He smiled warmly. “I guess we never really grow up.”
I’m not sure I wanted the answer, but I asked anyway…”Are you into that kind of thing?” Please say no…you’re too fricken cute.
“No”, he laughed. “Not into anything like that. By the way, if you need to use the bathroom, don’t go into the room labeled The Bathroom…it’s a horror show in there. Use the Ladies Room.”
“Oooh. Thanks for the warning”. Well, what now Nicole? I need to go into the Crib but if I tell him, he’ll think I’m a freak.
“Do you want a drink?” He asked. “I know I could use one.”
“Yes. Me too, thanks.”
“Margarita?” he asked.
“Perfect. I’m going to run to the Ladies Room. I’ll take my map.”
“Don’t get lost”. He shot me a killer smile then headed to the bar.
I didn’t have much time. The doors on this side weren’t labeled but according to the map, “The Crib” was two doors down from the room we came out of which was…checking the map….The Hoedown? Huh? Isn’t that like square dancing? I’m confused.
I took my chances and slowly cracked open the door. Nursery type music played softly in the background. I gathered some nerve and peeked in.
Oh God…I’m going to need a lobotomy after this.