The shape of (one of) our weekends

I was going to title this post “A Typical Weekend” but we haven’t seemed to settle into anything that seems typical.  So just to give you an idea of how we’re shaping our weekends, I thought I detail this weekend.

So technically this weekend is C’s weekend, because it’s Mother’s Day weekend, and it made sense that our daughter, A, be with her Mom. But Friday night A spent the night at Nana and Papa’s, because she hadn’t done so in some time. And Mom and Dad had plans. That’s right Mom and Dad, who are currently separated and living in separate dwellings had plans. Together.

What were the plans?

I’m glad you asked. We went out to the bar with C’s mother and two of C’s friends. Of course, those plans were thrown together at pretty much the last minute. Originally, C and I’d planned to hang out and watch a movie, The Curious Case of  Benjamin Buttons, which I’d already seen but I was cool with seeing it again. It makes for kind of an odd dynamic when one guy is out with four women, especially when the guy is a) the husband of one of the women and they are separated b) the son-in-law of one of the other women and c) is not gay. I’m not saying it wasn’t fun, it was. It was just kind of weird in a way. Or so it seemed.

That’s what C said to me, anyway, as we walked from where we’d parked the car to the bar: “Is this weird?”

“Yeah. Maybe a little,” I said. “But it’s cool.”

C agreed. Neither of cared if it was weird. Neither of us are very inclined to do things in a typical manner.

So then this morning, I got up and did some laundery and mowed the grass before it rained while C went for a run. Later, I drove over to Nana and Papa’s to pick up The Girl, who had a soccer game at 1pm. On the way I dropped off and picked up drycleaning, which came to a whopping total of $118 and some change, which set me into a mini panic attack, but it was wasted anxiety, for C transferred that very amount from her account to mine. She is as generous as she is beautiful! And anyway, most of the dry cleaning was her’s. (Not exactly; I had quite a few pieces as well but she had more and I thought the line was clever) Come time for the soccer game it was pouring rain, and the league really only cancels for lightening, of which there was none. But we decided, fuck it (C and I, because A is not allowed to decide in such a potty-mouthed fashion, although I’ve no doubt she will soon enough — bad parent, bad! teaching your child such filth) and went to grab some lunch and then go shopping at Target, where I purchased three pairs of shorts because having lost almost 20 lbs since December from both stress and my new medication I went down  three waist sizes. After gassing up we headed back home, i.e. to the house not the apartment, for A had a play date coming over at 3pm.

And that is where we are now. A and her friend are playing Wii. C is napping. And I am mucking about on the computer. Later, we’ll probably do some dinner (although precisely how one does dinner is a mystery to me). Then I’ll head back to the apt to do some writing before going out to the bar, sans my lovely wife from whom I am most regrettably separated, to see a high school friend’s brother’s band play. Tomorrow morning I’ll come over to the house so that A and I can make breakfast in bed for C for Mom’s Day. Then we might spread some mulch, which we did not get to do today because of the rain. Then A and I will  head back to Nana and Papa’s to celebrate Mother’s Day. We’ll leave there  no later than 5pm to get back to the house for Mother’s Day at C’s mom’s house, to which I was invited but not yet sure if I’m going to go. It is nothing personal. It’s just that I worry that it might serve to put me in a funk and I don’t want to bring people down. We’ll see.

Sunday evening, after A goes to bed, I may or may not head back to the apt. I may or may not hang out with C. I may or may not ride a dragon off into the sunset.

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txt-dependant

It would seem that I have developed something of a text message dependancy.  6 months ago I almost never used the txt messaging option of my phone. Hell, I hardly ever used my phone. The only person I ever really talked to on it was my wife, Colleen. In fact, that was the reason I got a cell phone in the first place, when Colleen was pregnant with our daughter, so she could contact me anywhere when she went into labor. As it turned out, it wasn’t necessary — Colleen was induced after she’d gone past her due date. But I kept the phone. I’m not sure I’ve heard of anyone giving up their cell once they’d gotten one, even those who swore they never would, like myself.

Back to my original point: I txt a lot now. So much so that we changed our phone plane. Yes, though separated, Colleen and I are still on the same phone plan. Is that strange or unusual? Got me.  It is what it is. I probably txt my cousin in Iowa the most, but the majority of our txts are of the juvenile variety, ie ham jokes. It’s too complicate, and a bit twisted, to explain. Just accept it. Colleen is the person I txt most after that. In fact, we txt more now than we ever did before, but then we were living in the same house, and yet we seemed to communicated far less than we do now.  In many ways, although not all, our relationship is better than it was before the separation. Often it doesn’t seem like we’re not a couple anymore, that we’re not a family anymore. It’s almost as if we’ve somehow entered our bizzarro relationship. I don’t know. It’s late and I spent three hours in the dentist chair getting fitted for two — count ’em — two crowns. I’m still slighty out of it.

I find txting to be helpful in a way, although it is difficult to describe how exactly. A friend on facebook gave me her number and told me to call her if I ever wanted to talk. We’d been chatting. I told her I appreciated it, although I’d be more likely to txt than chat. She said she understood, that sometimes you want to talk but not really. That made sense to me.

Anyhoo…my txting fetish doesn’t seem like it will end anytime soon. If anything it is going to become even more prominent. I’m looking into getting a new phone, one that makes it easier to tap out messages.

Your feature match is….fate or just coincidence.

Okay. So one of the things C and I agreed upon as part of our separation was to “date other people,” something that, trust me, is much easier to deal with in theory then in reality. But I’m not going to get into that.

Anyhoo…in the internet age, the most effective way to meet people is of course via interent dating. You select a service, post a profile with some basic info and perhaps a photograph or two and wait for the offers to roll on in. Well, attractive women like C wait for them to roll on in. Guys have to do the rolling, I’ve discovered, and most rolls end up gutters, which is, oh, so much fun, and by fun I mean demoralizing.

Turned out that both C and I put up profiles on Yahoo Personals. And one day C calls me to share something…curioius, and perhaps a little amusing. She got an email, offering 15 matches. And guess who was the feature match? You got it — Me! Just to prove she wasn’t yanking my chain (something I always enjoy,  wink wink, nudge nudge) she showed me the email.

So here’s the thing. Does one take that as some kind of sign of fate? Or is it merely a quirky coincidence?

I suppose it depends on the person, right. In event, we’re still separated. I mean, really, who is going to trust their major life decisions to the algorithms of Yahoo?

But just for the heck of it, let’s take a little poll, shall we?

I keep thinking but nothing happens

I intend to write posts for this blog. I want to. But then I just don’t. Often, I don’t know what to write about. Or just as often there is too much to write about. I don’t know where to begin. Plus, much of what is rattling around in my head and my heart are things I simply don’t want to air in a public forum. It just seems pathetic, not to meantion petty and juvenile.

And so here I am, feeling stuck.

I’m tired, and sad. Any joy or relief is temporary, very temoporary, which in some ways is worse, because as soon as I realize that I feel okay I clench up with fear, wondering when it will drain away again.

ugh — this sucks!

Mission Impossible

I’m beginning to thank that perhaps I can’t blog about this whole separating thing. Maybe it’s too new still, to raw. After all it’s only been about 3 months. Ugh!

Maybe it’s too new, I’m too raw. I don’t want to lament and complain, whine and bitch, but too often it seems as if that is all I have in me.

I’m too tired. And despite being exhausted I can barely manage to sleep 4-5 hrs a night, if I’m lucky.

And whoa to the poor soul that gets me talking about it, because once I get going I simply cannot shut up. I try, but I can’t. Was up yakking until 2am  last night on the phone with someone, and I could have gone on longer, much longer.

No matter how much I talk, no matter what “conclusions” I come to it doesn’t really help. In the end, that tight, knot of angst is there in my chest, like a fucking clencheed fist.

It’s this feeling of abandoment that’s the worst. Like a free-fall through my emotions.

You know what makes me think of? When I was kid, shopping in K-Mart with my mom. I’d wander away in the toy section,  pull some toy off the shelf and sit down and start playing only to look up after who knows how long to realize that Mom is gone. Where is she? Where’d she go? I fill with dread, as if someone was pouring into me from the top of my peeled open head. I get up to look for but can’t find her. Panic and sweat. I begin running moving through the store. ….

Of course, I found my mom. She wasn’t that far off, it didn’t take me long to find her but it felt like an enternity. And from then I’d suffer nightmares and even sudden waking dreams of finding myself suddenly and utterly alone.

What do you make of the Sigmund?

Ugh!