Bitter Ex-Wives & Other Freaks of Nature

Being the new wife takes on a new demension when the EX won’t let go. My true story…

April 2, 2000 – The Morning After August 25, 2007

Filed under: dancing,divorce,girlfriends,life,salsa — bitterexwives @ 3:33 am

  Last night I had a blast! It has been a long time since I had that much fun. The last few months I have wallowed in self-pity, anger, bitterness, and overall emotional pain. I had no desire to have fund nor would I allow myself the simple pleasure.  The funny thing is I almost did not go last night – when Dionne initially called to invite me, I spent the entire conversation providing the appropriate responses fused with just the right amount of enthusiasm, while secretly trying to figure out a plausible excuse for not being able to join them.  If it hadn’t been for Grace, I would have never joined them.  Faithful Grace. Always the voice of reason.

  The one thing I kept thinking about last night was my “separated” status. Being separated and almost single is a weird place to be in.  Legally I am still married, but my husband doesn’t live with me.  I still have sexual needs that my husband should meet, but he’s fulfilling someone else’s sexual needs.  Sometimes I am lonely and want to be comforted, but my husband is not accessible to me.  I don’t want to date anyone else to get my needs met, because secretly, I would give anything to have my husband back.  That’ why I still wear my wedding ring. The very concept of spending time with another man feels extremely wrong.  Even if I wanted to date, it would never come to fruition, because I am too angry.  Men don’t look at me twice and I think it’s because I give off a seriously angry vibe.  That, “don’t ask me for my number because I might spit on you” vibe OR the “don’t buy me a drink and think your entitled to more, because I might hunt you down and break your jaw” kind of vibe. I have heard men say that when a woman is in the “I hate men mode” they can immediately pick up that emotion and tend to run in the opposite direction.

  The club was nothing like what I expected.  It had a dual personality – Greek restaurant by day, Latin Club by night. I don’t think I have ever seen anything quite like it.  The dance floor consisted of a 12 x 12 space covered with Pergo flooring. It was obvious that restaurant patrons sat in that very spot during the day eating gyros. The bar was large and generously stocked – so I couldn’t complain; although I do not think I would ever go during the week for lunch. Restaurants should be restaurants and clubs should be clubs, I don’t think I like those that serve an in-between function. This was obviously a happenin’ spot, because it was packed. I never realized that Indianapolis contained such a large Hispanic population. Was this new? 

  Notwithstanding my revelations about the population, I quickly overcame my initial impressions and gratefully accepted a drink from a really cute Mexican guy.  After my first drink I danced up a sweat, 50% of the time alone and 50% of the time with one random Mexican guy after another. The time in between was spent drinking and laughing with the girls.  The first time I was asked to dance I didn’t know how to respond.  For some unknown reason, I felt like I was somehow betraying Bryce by dancing with another man. Especially when dancing to a slow song.  What is wrong with me?  Why do I feel obligated to continue upholding marriage vows broken by Bryce over a year ago with Margo? Anyway…after a couple of drinks and continual prodding from Grace I began to loosen up. That was when the real fun began.

  Before I knew what was happening, I had not only mastered the basic salsa step, I was also doing the merengue and the rhumba.  Who would have thought it would be so much fun?  By 3:00 a.m., I had sweated out the alcohol, my feet hurt, and I was ready to go home.  The only depressing part of the evening was that I had become sexually aroused from doing the merengue with no possibility of release.  According to the guy who showed me the step, the merengue is like a “slow grind.”  Well that was right up my alley – after that explanation, every time the merengue music came on all I could think about was grinding.  From now on, just thinking about the merengue is going to make me wet.

  As my grandmother used to say, I left the club hot and bothered. Several of us, including me, carpooled so I was the second-to-last person dropped off.  We departed with the promise to celebrate the next birthday together – a fantastic idea since my birthday was next.  As soon as the front door opened, I kicked off my shoes and limped to the bedroom assured that I would awake with blisters on both feet.  Barely able to keep my eyes open, I peeled off my clothes and fell exhausted into my just delivered that morning, king sized, pillow top bed.   Reeking of smoke, I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.

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April 1, 2000 – Saturday Night Salsa August 22, 2007

Filed under: bitterness,divorce,girlfriends,love — bitterexwives @ 3:07 pm

  Tonight, I plan to party! To celebrate Dionne’s birthday, albeit belatedly, we are going to dinner and later Salsa dancing.  Unlike Dionne, the rest of us are Salsa virgins – in typical Dionne fashion, it’s her birthday and she wants to outshine us.  With three months of lessons under her belt and numerous trips to various salsa clubs Dionne plans to dance circles around us and obliterate any competition for meeting men – not that I am looking.

  Presently, I need a man like I need a hole in the head.  All of my needs can be summarized into two basic categories…Sex and Capital.  Yes, I sound like a bitter woman, but what the hell; at least I recognize the signs.  After Bryce, why would I want to date another guy and ultimately end up in another bad marriage? 

  Although, dating for money is one alternative.  Considering Bryce has left me high and dry with the responsibility for paying all of the bills, let me remind you, all of the bills we once paid as a double income couple – I am always budgeting down to my last dollar.  I could enjoy dating a man with a little excess cash to share.  That way, if my car needs a tune-up, my furnace dies, or my long distance bill is too high, I could call Mr. Capital for a cash advance without the responsibility for repayment. Okay, Okay, okay – I know I am deluding myself.  I could never date a man strictly for money; it looks and feels too much like prostitution. Payment is always inevitable – either in sex or cash.

  Dating for the sole purpose of sex is another possibility – men do it all of the time.  While the thought gives me some perverse satisfaction, I am not capable of doing this either. I’d end up falling in love with a man that I knew nothing about, but the size of his dick. MEN! Uugghh!

  Another reason why I am not looking for a man tonight is because men are like the prize inside a “Cracker Jack” box.  You never know what you are actually getting. Men pretend to be perfect gentlemen when you first meet them.  They take you out to dinner, they buy you flowers, they compliment you, and generally make you feel good about yourself.  The real crafty ones will engage you in conversation, listen to your thoughts, and even share their emotions.  On the surface, they appear to be the monogamous marrying type.  The problem – it’s not real.  Not real at all, more like a facade, a phony, a sham! They are after one thing and one thing only…the coochie!  That’s right, I’ll say it again…the C-O-O-C-H-I-E! In addition, the real devious ones are looking for a sugar mama with good coochie!  Men know a sugar mama when they see one… nice woman, with an excellent job, high salary, great credit, and benefits who is looking for a man and doesn’t mind sharing the wealth OR the coochie.

  Therefore, if I manage to get a man to look at me after he’s seen Dionne, I figure we can intermittently dance and grind all night. As far as I am concerned, men cannot be trusted for more than sex and sometimes even that is suspect.  But for tonight, my thoughts will be focused on dancing and grinding…dancing and grinding.  What’s wrong with a little self-satisfaction through sexual gratification if limited to near orgasms on the dance floor?

I need to run to the mall to purchase something sexy to wear…

 

March 26, 2000 – Late Night Conversations August 4, 2007

Filed under: fashion,girlfriends,piercings — bitterexwives @ 5:30 am

  Dionne, the leader of my dance group called to say she cancelled practice for tomorrow night. Yeah, I thought, another opportunity to shop for furniture.  As Dionne and I continued to talk, we discussed my furniture dilemma.

“Angel, with all of this drama going on, you need to do something for you.”

“I know, I know.  Sometimes it is difficult to develop enough energy to want to leave the house and when I do, I always struggle with what it is I should do.”

“Is there something you always wanted to do?”

“Like what do you mean?”

“Anything…a tattoo, a haircut, a body piercing?”

“I already have a tattoo.  And during the summer (pre-marriage) before I reported for my first semester of fall classes I had my nose pierced.  I don’t want to look like one of those kids in a rock band, but I must admit I have always wanted to get my navel pierced like yours.  I think men find naval piercings sexy.”

“Name the day, place, time and I am there.”

“Where did you get your navel pierced?”

“ACME near the university. Hey, what are you doing tomorrow night?”

“Not a damn thing!”

“Well you do now. I will call ACME tomorrow to make you an appointment to get your navel pierced.  How does 7:00 p.m. sound to you?”

“Great! Unless you call me to cancel, I will see you at ACME, tomorrow night, at 7:00 p.m.

 

March 13, 2000 (Evening) – Girl Power July 17, 2007

Filed under: divorce,girlfriends,life,memories — bitterexwives @ 2:55 am

  The rest of the afternoon, dragged on endlessly.  I pretended to work whenever my boss walked past my desk – even though I spent half the afternoon in the bathroom crying and the other half on the phone alternating between Celeste and my mom.  How could Bryce treat me this way?

  Thank God for Celeste. I honestly don’t know what I would do without her. When I arrived home from work Celeste was sitting in my driveway with two bottles of Riesling.  Initially, I figured being drunk was the best way to deal with this catastrophe. 

  “Celeste, remember when Bryce snuck into the house last December to move his clothes and other personal items?  Now he walks around with his chest puffed out, but last December he was too much of a coward to move out when I was home!  The nerve of him!”

  “I know Angel, he is such a prick!”

  “Well I showed him!  The next day I went to Home Depot and purchased a new set of locks.  I remember that Sunday, as if it was yesterday.  Bryce’s friend Terrence called to talk to him – saying something about they had not talked for a while and he wanted to see how Bryce was doing.  For a minute, I almost lost my courage to finish the job.  I didn’t want anyone to know Bryce had moved in with his mother. It had only been a couple of weeks; even though these living arrangements were supposed to be temporary, it was so embarrassing.”

  “Remember when he tried to sneak into the house again?”

  “Of course I do! Bryce was so pissed when his keys did not work. Did he really think he could just waltz in and out of the house, whenever he wanted to with no regard to how I would be affected?”

  After two glasses of wine, I was feeling a little tipsy and warm all over. Drinking myself into oblivion might have been my greatest idea ever.  Replaying hate moments when I bested Bryce was extremely empowering.  I needed to conjure up a few more stories.

  “Celeste, remember when Bryce came over for Christmas to pick up the gifts I made for his family?”

  “Yes honey! That was the funniest thing I ever heard.”

  “I fucked him up! He stood there in my face whining about how much Margo needed him.  Margo this…and Margo that…Yeah Bryce, Margo’s a whore! Any woman that can sit in another woman’s home with her family, then turn around and screw her husband is a whore! Is that what you want Bryce?  A whore? A woman who has no regard for the sanctity of marriage? A woman who runs around with this man and that man?  You are not special, you are nothing more than another dick.”

  “I know Angel; women like her make it hard for good women like us.  You are a better woman and deserve more than what Bryce has to offer. If he wants a trifling woman like Margo, he will never be good enough for you.”

  “You are right! Thinking back to that night, I could not believe that he actually stood in my face and defended her. I kept getting angrier and angrier as Bryce told me not to judge Margo. ‘That might have been in Margo’s past, but you can’t hold that against her’ he said. Celeste, that was when I lost my mind. Before I knew what was happening, I ran across the room and tackled Bryce like a defensive lineman on Monday Night Football! Even when he hit the floor, Bryce didn’t know what hit him! By the time he recovered I was pummeling him with everything from my fists to books and magazines.  If Bryce hadn’t been screaming like a girl, I don’t think I would have ever returned to my right mind.”

  “Of all of the women I know who are in the process of getting divorced and all the women I know who are actually divorced, I think that was the funniest story I ever heard! Bryce is such a punk; he pretends to be macho, but I can just see him lying on the floor screaming like a girl! Obviously Margo, is pumping his ego and filling his head with lies.  A man with ego only is not really a man.”

  After drinking the second bottle of wine, I laid my head on Celeste’s lap and cried.  Inebriation is not bliss.

  “Celeste, sometimes I want to die.” Quietly, while softly stroking my head, Celeste spoke words of encouragement as only a best friend could.

  “Angel, the world does not begin and end with Bryce. You have great potential with or without Bryce in your life.  Don’t allow his failure as a husband cause you to give up on life. You are a wonderful woman with a long life ahead of her – don’t give up. One more thing Angel…you need counseling.”