The boomerang rang rang rang et al

I haven’t posted in awhile. Not for lack of subject matter, mind you. Just that when you work 12-15 hours a day  6 to 7 days a week it’s a tad difficult to muster the energy. I’m lucky if I can read two paragraphs of a book at night before crashing. Ugh.

But this evening I find myself with a bit of time and thought why not bestow upon my eagerly wanting public some of my beatific words of wisdom. Hey. It’s the least I can do.

But what to write? What to write?

I suppose I could write about The Boomerang. She’s the woman I met on eHarmony who, after adamantly insisting that we were not a good match kept getting back in touch with me. I believe I dubbed her Lydia. In any case, I’d thought she was gone for good. And then on day while slacking on the couch and randomly texting every poor schmuck who was naive enough to make me privy to their phone number, I get a text:

“Hi. How have you been?” It read.

“I’m fine,” I responded. “Who this?”

It was Lydia and apparently she’d had a dream about me so of course had to get in touch. At this point the wise thing to do would have been to simply tell her to buzz off, but as is probably apparently, I’m not always the wisest of men. Reference: my marriage to a narcissistic, self-serving sociopath — even great sex (which it so was not, I’ve since come to realize) is an excuse for a knucklehead move like that. But I digress or regress or something like that.

We began chatting again, for a time. But after making the mistake — YET AGAIN — of expressing what a pain in the ass my ex -wife can be, The Boomerang, pointed out to me that my ex-wife was kind of a difficult person. “You think?” I said. The problem, The Boomerang pointed out, was that my pain in the ass ex-wife would become, in part, her problem. And in the end, she just didn’t want that hassle. To which I replied, “Cool beans. Bye. And do not contact me again.”

“I will,” she texted. “You do the same.”

I refrained from sending the “Fuck off!” text, which I think I will always regret. But what are you gonna do, right? Live and learn.

And what precisely have I lived to learn? Well, that in some ways, having an ex-wife is worse than having a wife. Strangely enough, when I was married, I had had way more opportunities with other woman than I seem to be having now. Apparently, there is a breed of woman who are more than willing to have an affair with a married man (my ex-wife for example), but if you have an ex-wife it somehow changes things. You can’t talk too badly about the ex or that bothers them. In their mind, it means you’re not over them. And you can’t speak too warmly about your ex either, because again this means you’re not over her. And then there are the woman who just can’t seem to tolerate an ex-wife existence at all.

It’s like a curse really. And I can’t help wondering if this is instinctually what keeps (some) men from wanting to get married in the first place. Because despite a wife being an ex-wife, she’s still a wife of some sort and that is like an dating albatross around a guy’s neck that can never be lifted.

Well…that was far more bellyaching that I’d planned on, but what the hey. It’s a blog, right. A place to let the proverbial shit fly. And I am a rhetorical monkey eager to fling his prose poo! Bazinga!


4 responses to “The boomerang rang rang rang et al

  1. I have a buddy in the same situation. When women bring up his ex wife, he can’t talk about the bad times they had because then he sounds like an asshole. If he talks about the good times they had, he’s not over her. If he says nothing about it, women think he;s hiding something. He tells me can’t win.

    I like your blog by the way. You’re a good writer.

    • Yep. Know just how your buddy feels. The worst part is being lectured by a woman about how “you don’t seem to have one good word to say about your ex-wife” when they have done nothing but run their ex-husband up and down a rail. The underlying message is you, the man, are not allowed to have any feeling of loss or regret never mind resentment or bitterness. You aren’t to share thos3e feelings, because they are too icky. You are required to hold those down until you die of heart attack so that they can collect on your life insurance policy. HA!

      I’ve grown so tired of that I don’t even try to gage how much or what I should say or not say. What I say, I say. What I don’t, I don’t. If she doesn’t like, she’s free to walk, or take a cab home — I’m having dessert. And another drink. Cheers, baby!

      Anyway, thanks for the comment, man. Keep on keeping on. Because bitches be trippin and always will. Know what I’m sayin?

      • I have another buddy who is married and always says a line similar to you second to the last line. He says, “Bitches be crazy.” His wife doesn’t like that line.

        Anyway, they are trippin and are crazy sometimes.

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