I have one toxic friend that I should  have dumped a long time ago. Instead in turned into an affair, which turned into an obsession.  He would say no, I would say yes. 

In thinking about toxic friends, I realize that I might be a toxic friend.  I whine, I complain, I need.  Not just to him, but to many.  But to him, I would do this.  And I would say yes when he would say no.

Now he’s dumped the friendship. 

And it’s time. 

But it hurts.  It leaves a hole.   It leaves a cavern.   It leaves a crevasse that only the truly brave would cross, on its rickety piece-meal bridge to the other side, swaying in the strong winds of change, threatening to dump the navigator into the gorge below.

And I try to less.  But even that is a need.  And the need takes over.   Like Sisyphus rolling the boulder up a hill, the more you exert, the more you tire, and the less you reach your goal. 

And I try to remember he was never really a friend. 

J says “when I think of all the times you cried over him, it makes me sick.”

The other J says “you need to stay away from him.”

And others say “Even when we’re in public he talks to you if he has to – its always so forced” and “He was never your friend.”

He said I mean a lot to him.  He said I would never have to worry about him becoming chilly.  A couple of days later, he was yelling at me and then the next, not speaking to me at all.

Towards the end, I wasn’t a good friend.  I wanted what I wanted and pursued it.   But, does that count if the person was never a friend to begin with?

It means that Monday night, after we kiss furiously in your office and I give you the raunchiest lap dance ever, you can kiss me between my thighs while laying me out on your desk and then drive home to your wife and kids.

It means me not sleeping at all Monday night for thinking of you.  You stay up taking care of your kids.

It means Tuesday morning I literally read you a list of my thoughts, one of which is I know I’m hurting other people.  You say nothing.  You feel *that* would be inappropriate.

It means Tuesday afternoon, after mentioning that spot on your desk and flirting with me, you want me to masturbate for you.   You were so turned on, your legs were shaking.  SHAKING.  We start having sex.  Then, you stop.  You mumble something under your breathe and I can’t tell if you just said your wife’s name.   But, you cum on me and later say “thank you.” When I say “any time,” you reply with “don’t say that.”

It means Wednesday, you push me way.  You later say it’s to be “protective.”   When I’m at my most vulnerable, after I’ve done things with you I typically don’t do for others, after I’ve opened myself up body, mind, and soul, you receded.   When I need reassurance the most, you are not there.  You do what you want.

It means I cry in your office, while you try to crack jokes.

It means I have to ask you if I mean *anything,* if I even Matter.   You never have to ask that question.

It means that when I went out a date last night,  all I could think of was the way you kiss.  Meanwhile, you were working in your office.

It means sitting in a meeting with you and smelling your scent.  You take notes on the meeting.

It means I feel utterly alone as I curl up in my bed each night.  You get to curl up to your son or your wife.

It means no one, especially myself, has sympathy for me for I walked into this situation.   But, I can’t stop thinking about the way you taste. 

It means that I can’t stop thinking how I’ll never ever be good enough.  I’ll never ever be good enough for you.  That no matter what I do or how I try to make you happy, I’m not her.  And you tell me you “can’t imagine anyone” that would take away the life you have.

I’m not her.

I don’t get to have you.

I don’t get to have you talking to me a few times a day at work, discussing the kids or what you want for dinner, and calling me “Babe” or “Pumpkin.”

I don’t get the concern, or monikers,  or plans, or wishes, or shoulder rubs, or kindness for being the mother of your kids, or hope and dreams. 

I’m will always be awarded the 4th or 5th place ribbon in a race I’ll never ever win.

(It must be nice being you – so handsome and tall and put together.   Your parents loved you from day 1 and they stayed together; you never had to doubt that.  You have a great education. You met the love of your life when you were 19 and have been together almost 20 years.  You have a joke for everything.  People look you in the eye.  You spend each holiday surrounded by people who think the world of you, both your family and hers.  You have great kids.  People like you; you’ve never had to doubt that.  It must be great being you. It sucks being me.)

I spent Christmas Eve with my brother, my sister-in-law and their two beautiful girls.  (One of them is named after me…the cute one that is a total ham.)   We went to my sister-in-law’s sister-in-law’s family house.  It’s been her tradition for about 10 years to go this really big family celebration that involves a White Elephant gift exchange. 

Picture this:  About 17 adults and 8 kids all in one family room.  Gifts strewn about, some chaos ensuing during the White Elephant game.  Yet again, Redhead sticks her foot in it:

Jeremiah (whom I’ve known about 5 minutes, looking over the gifts and picking his up on his shoulder):  Bigger is always better.

Me:  A *guy* would say that.

(giggles and a couple of gasps…)

Gail, a friend of hers, and I took a girls’ road trip.  A good-old-fashioned-like-we-were-in-college road trip to Miami.  The Queen of Traveling Cheaply, Gail, had lined up a friend’s house to crash at in Key Biscayne.  We drove her car 15 hours the first night to reach St. Augustine, Florida. The next couple of days, well, let’s just say we meandered. 

Here are but a few of the highlights:

-Ate at Waffle House, South of the Border, and Sonic, plus a Moon Pie all in one day…and felt it the next

gonna eat your tots?

-Slept 10 hours a night for several nights

-Ate and drank my way through Florida…look, a Margarita as big as my head!  (that’s what he said)

the sunglasses are for scale, and yes, they were two-for-one!

-Bought fireworks and shot a couple off (until I started to get nervous about the Key Biscayne Police rolling by)

do I need to open a case of whoop ass?

-Saw the Ripley’s Believe It or Not Museum, where I touched (in several naughty places) a Fertility God…I’m totally having a baby this year

it's all about the way you rub it

-Slept on the couch of a friend of a friend – someone I knew only about two hours

-Didn’t plan a single thing until the last day…and was FINE with it

-Spent half the vacation in my bathing suit and slightly funky due to a “plumbing problem” at the friend’s house

 -Got a marriage proposal…to which I said I don’t know about marriage and let him kiss me on the cheek

oh, the choices...

-Got a sperm donor lined up, in the form of an ex-boyfriend (no picture here)

-Got caught in a flash flood in Gail’s car…I will never again suggest “just do it” when there is a lake where there used to be a road.

-Spent each morning for three days having to get Gail’s car fixed…poor Gail’s car

-Got free drinks at a bar, got free lunches from Gail’s relatives…life is sweet.

-Was barefoot in Key Largo tandem kayaking in the mangroves Saturday night and making snow angels at home Sunday night

haven't developed the kayaking pics yet...

my house and car keys are in there somewhere

-Was one of the first flights back into National on Sunday and felt very, very lucky

the ghost town that was National Airport (yes, I refuse to call it "Reagan Airport")

-Said so many inappropriate things and used “that’s what she said” too many times.  Example:

Gail’s brother:  (very long conversation about how stressful his life is, but he’s rich as all-get-out)

Me: You know what you need?  A pretty little blond girlfriend to make you happy.

Gail’s brother:  But I’m 60.

Me:  That means you can do three 20-year-olds.

Gail’s brother:  *crickets*

Gail, at the Ripley’s Museum:  Look at this display.  It has the world’s smallest screw.

Me:  I think I’ve already had that.

Attendant at the Museum who is within earshot starts laughing, at which I say:  Oh, did I say that out loud? I thought I only said that in my head.

Damn.  I’m tired.  

When do we go again?

In my quest to not hang out at my bar* anymore, I’ve been asking out girlfriends to various other drinking establishments.   Last night, under the rouse of owing her a couple of rounds of Kilkenny’s, a co-worker and I had plans.  We were going to go to the Dubliner.   But, she got asked to go a happy hour/birthday thing for people in another office.   Not one to turn down meeting new people, I happily accepted the invitation. 

Yes, I wear my invisible helmet every day.  Here are some things I should not do around co-workers:

  • Don’t hand someone your business card when he can’t figure out your name.   Granted, the birthday boy had way too much to drink.  His eyes were floating around in his sockets.  After he tried to pronounce my last name three times (which is not hard since it’s a middle-of-the-road Irish name), I gave him my business card.  I thought he’d like to see it in writing.  *headslap* He kept showing it to other people throughout the night…which meant that word spread a psychologist was their midst.
  • Never mention you’re a psychologist.  Yes, they can look me up in the Org Chart and find out my title.  But, why give them ammunition for the gun?  All night long it was “I bet you are analyzing us right now”** and “Do psychologists have in-jokes?”***
  • Don’t swear like a sailor.  I have to work with these people on projects.  Now, people I’ve worked with for a long time know I’m totally inappropriate.****  However, I think I the use of “he’s a fucking doucebag” and “I know him. He’s an asshat” shouldn’t be said to the birthday boy no matter how much he won’t remember the conversation.
  • Don’t always have strong opinions.   Yes, the conversation about whether Bugs Bunny was a superhero was quite spirited.  But, I didn’t need to tell this one guy “Bugs Bunny was a hero, not a superhero, and I strongly disagree with your decision criteria…”
  • Don’t kinda hit on the birthday boy.  Again, he was so drunk he wouldn’t remember it. But definitely don’t keep feeling his muscle-y arm…Mmmmm…muscles…and don’t offer to buy him a drink…and don’t keep touching him.  Even though he kept trying to talk to you and was all cuteness at age 33, don’t take it as a sign.  Just keep moving along. Nothing to see here.

In sum, keep your redheadedness (e.g., stubborness) and Irishness (e.g., drunk ass touchy-feely-ness) to yourself.

*I just heard my bar is closing soon.  Damn it!  Although I’ve been avoiding the place lately, it was the only bar where I could get the equivalent of five bourbons and pay only $12.

**Answer: No, I’m not on the clock.

***Answer:  Yes, I’ll slap you hard and call it ‘single-session therapy.’

****Just yesterday, someone was trying to thank me for something via email.  He said “…don’t want to get mushy prematurely but thanks…”  I wrote back “he he he.  you said ‘mushy prematurely’.”   His response:  “And your maturity level is a beacon we can all follow . . .”

Went to Vapiano’s in Chinablock last night with SurveyGirl (to celebrate her move and me finishing some teaching tasks).   Great Sangria, but hated that the happy hour “special” was $7.   So many cute guys, almost fell off my stool.  (Actually, I did slip.)


Went to Wok and Roll for dinner. The Shumai was passable.  Love the Flying Dragon Roll and the Hawaiian Roll.  Ummm…crunchy…spicy…advocado-y.   Too much sake.  People were turning heads as I kept snorting while laughing.  Had to tell the story of when I got questioned by Park Police on suspicion of being a prostitute…Oh, back to the review.  It was great.


Went to Oyamel for dessert.  SurveyGirl got the chocolate custard that usually has anise, but now not so much; she still loved it.  I had the Mayan liquor that was like Sambuca, but not so much; I still loved it.

Weeding is so cathartic.  I love a good wake of destruction, followed by putting in things that are more likely to amuse me.

Before - the one on the left


After - three piles (of the eight created) - see the huge root ball! (That's what she said)


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