Suzanna Danna

Things that make you go… hmmmmm

Or an alternative title…The Lion, The Bitch and He Needs A New Wardrobe.

I’m torn, torn like an old sweater, torn about how I should feel about the news I got this afternoon at lunch.

Oh, and Hey, Amy? Thanks for going to lunch… I enjoyed getting to spend some time with you. It was good to see you… that color of sweater (plum) looks great with your skin tone by the way, and I like how you’ve let your hair grow out. Have you guys ever seen someone with a devilish gleam to their eye when they grin? That’s my Amy.

Annnnyway---

Let me lay out the dirt for you. And by dirt, I mean some information on an old boyfriend.

A while ago I started thinking about an ex-boyfriend. Not in an, “Oooohhh, I’m all a-flutter with caramel thoughts and cotton candy dreams about Kim” type of way either. Just sort of a, “Erm, he’s hovering at the edges of my conscience and it’s really becoming quite bothersome, why the hell am I THINKING ABOUT HIM!?… Oh, hi Guilt.” Type of way.

I thought about him for no reason. Then the call came from Co-worker C with news that he called looking for me.

When Co-worker C called I almost felt validated. Sort of like, oh, so that’s why I was thinking about him… it was because he was looking for me. Or because he was calling my old work and talking to Co-worker C to find out how I am. But then I shook the crazy from my brain and realized that No, Miss Drama Queen, you are NOT clairvoyant. And you do Not have some sort of connection with that man.

And then I felt better.

Mister and I never used that phone number that he gave Co-worker C to pass along to me. I printed out the email that she sent and brought it home to Mister. The paper that his number was printed on lay on the stack of mail next to our home computer(s) for a week or so then got thrown away with some errant Domino’s Pizza mailer or something.

Have you guys ever had a relationship with someone after you dated a big ol’ bucket of crazy, and after the big bucket of crazy, anything seems great?

I dated Kim after I dated Marcus… and let me tell you, Marcus’s cheese, done slid off of his cracker.

But don’t let me sugar coat this for you.

I was divorced. Still bitter as a hunk of chicory soaked in pecan shells and Kim was freshly divorced. Yanno, I don’t even think his divorce was final. So, there we were, two people just looking for someone to validate their feelings… or at least not to screw their best friends or cheat on them with their siblings… whatever.

I was emotionally retarded.

He was a good listener.

I was ambitious.

He was content to let someone else eke out a living for him.

I was resentful.

He was clingy.

It was a match made in hell.

But, we were six hours away from each other, so when we got together, everything was perfect. You guys know how it is. When you visit, it’s a vacation. The outside world doesn’t infringe on your little party. So you start fooling yourself into thinking that it could really be like this forever.

Hi, why don’t you stay for two weeks and let’s see how this goes?

OK.

Hi… end of two weeks? Get the fuck out of my apartment you needy man with your cheap cigarettes and your Cosby sweaters!

Yes, I am an awful, hateful person.

Today at lunch Amy told me that he found her on IRC and got her caught up on how he is doing.

He’s back with his wife, his oldest is 16 (6’8”), youngest is 13 (6’1”… they are a family of Sequoias) and he has his dream job caring for the big cats and the bears in the zoo that he works for… and he is very happy.

I couldn’t be happier for him, really. I know that he and his wife belong together so I am glad that they figured that out. They were together for 14 years before divorcing and they are truly soul mates.

The sweet southern girl part of me is all, “Awww, really? That’s awesome. Working with the cats has been his dream job so that is so cool.” Which is what I said out loud to Amy at lunch. And also, “I’m really happy for him that he and C (his ex-wife) got back together, I’m sure the boys are happy too. I’m so proud of him for getting that job at the zoo! I bet he is so excited!” Which I believe is what I told Mister on the phone shortly after lunch.

And deep in my brain where the mean things go to die, this little nugget is hiding, “I found a 12 page hand written letter in the glove compartment of my car from that man detailing every sordid thing he did to me the first weekend we met. I shredded it but I’m still afraid it will come back to life like some freaky Chucky doll and I will be crowned the p0rn queen of the Big D. Freak.”