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He stole my panties then he stole my heart…

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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 see him.  This is really bad but that was the best night of my life.


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

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red slippers

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I moved downstairs”, he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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


Being happy makes me tired.

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Beach writ

“Try to stay positive”.

“Look at the bright side of things”.

“Keep your chin up ole chum”…

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

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

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

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

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

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

Heartache or just indigestion?

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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palm trees

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

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

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

And the countdown begins…550, 549, 548…

Sometimes life is…

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pile of crap

Just a giant pile of shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just enjoy it while you can Nicole….

Cape May 011

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