Happy Canada Day, My Fellow Canadians!

Hey people, have a good one. I'm going up north tomorrow morning and I'm going to kick back and fucking RELAX. I hope. Maybe have a couple beers, a hot dog or two, spray on the SPF 45, don the shades and ... aaaaaaahhhhhhhh. Yeah, that's good.

I'm coming back Sunday night though, as I have an interview Monday morning. I actually have two interviews next week, one on Monday, one on Tuesday. The one on Tuesday is with the only major competitor of my old company that heaved me out the door. Wouldn't that be sweet, sweet revenge. :-) Bwahahahahahahahaha!

No, seriously, who gives a shit. All I want is a stable job. The guy I've been working for has been cutting back my hours and it just doesn't cut it anymore. And I don't want to end up at Wal-Mart, so I hope to fuck I find something soon.

Anyway, be good. And to my American friends, Happy July 4th!
:-)

Thought Provoking

I saw the greatest quote today. It is from Nikos Kazantzakis, the author of The Last Temptation of Christ. It went like this: "The non-existent is whatever we have not sufficiently desired."

I read this, stared at it, and just absorbed it for a minute. Then I thought, Wow. That probably is completely true, if you really think about it. Think about all the things you've wanted, or still want, in your life. Why don't you have them? Be completely honest with yourself. I think when it comes down to it, Mr. Kazantazakis is absolutely right. Sure, obstacles get in your way sometimes. Sometimes things are really difficult. But if you truly, truly, deep in your heart and soul want something, nothing will stop you from getting it.

Let's apply this to a few instances in my own life. I am more than willing to be the guinea pig to prove this theory true. Here are some things I really, really want:

1. To be at a healthy weight, and look the way I want to.
Now ... let's put this theory to the test. This situation is non-existent for me right now. Why? Have I sufficiently desired it? The answer is, I have desired it, but not sufficiently. If I really, truly, completely, utterly wanted this to be the case, it would be a reality. I have done it before. Yes, the way I have gone about losing weight was not healthy, and not maintainable, but when I lost the most weight I have ever lost and got to a size where I looked really, really good, I desperately, passionately wanted it. I let nothing get in my way. I was determined. Now ... yes, of course I want these things, but when things get rough or I feel depressed or bored or whatever, I have gone for my old standby, food. I have not exercised the way I used to (thankfully, I'm starting to again). I have not desired it sufficiently. No way.

2. To have a mutually satisfying love relationship, complete with lots of sex.
Non-existent, to say the least. Why? Because I have been procrastinating. My husband desperately wants to get back together and we have been seeing a lot of each other up at the trailer every weekend, which has led to a lot of companionable time together, which leads him to believe we will get back together, while I have no intention of doing so. So, in essence, I am leading him on because I don't want to go through the whole rigamarole of telling him that over and over. Consequently, I feel guilt for even getting emails from other men, looking at other men on dating websites, and am really not pursuing a viable relationship because my marriage is still very much a presence in my life right now. I have even considered giving it another chance (albeit with much counselling). Therefore, is the above the kind of relationship I truly desire? It sure feels that way to me. Then why am I being so wishy-washy with my husband and keep delaying the inevitable? And why? For the safety, the security of having someone, even though the relationship doesn't make me feel the woman I truly am? Very possible. So, I guess it's fair to say I haven't desired this sufficiently.

Those are just a couple of examples from my own life. Think about circumstances in your own life and ask yourself the same questions. Why don't you have what you want? Be really honest. It will open your eyes.

We are so quick to blame other people or outside circumstances as the reasons for why we don't have what we want. We say we don't have a good relationship because all men/women are jerks ... we don't have enough money because the company we work for pays us shit ... etc. etc. etc. The truth is, there always options.

Everything we want is out there. It is within our grasp. We just have to have the guts and the determination to go about getting it. Before anything becomes a reality, it has to exist in your mind first. Any physicist will tell you that. Picture what you want, imagine feeling the way you would feel if you had what you wanted. Then, go and get it. It is yours.

The Death of the Neighbourhood Cinema

At the end of this month, a mere four days from now, the light will be all but extinguished on a very important flame. Here in Toronto, as I'm sure in most other major cities, we have had a chain of repertory cinemas that show second-run movies for many years. Among the most popular are the Kingsway, the Revue, and the Paradise. The family who runs the chain have decided to close all of the cinemas except one, I believe -- The Bloor, which, I suppose is the only profitable one as it tends to have festivals throughout the year, caters to the university crowd and is closer to downtown.

These little theatres have had a very special, instrumental part to play in my life. I spent many, many hours in them. My husband is a real movie buff and most of our dates took place there, as I am something of a movie buff myself. In them, I discovered movies by people like Werner Herzog, Jacques Rivette, Ken Loach, Mike Leigh, and countless other names that are not instantly recognizable to the average moviegoer but are well known among movie lovers.

I remember going to see Monty Python and the Holy Grail and ...And Now For Something Completely Different on a double bill one Friday night. Me and my friend stepped outside to smoke a joint between the first and second feature. I remember going to see a Stanley Kubrick triple bill with my brother: A Clockwork Orange, Barry Lyndon, and The Shining. I remember going to see Pulp Fiction and being absolutely blown away. I saw movies that left a lump in my heart, got my heart beating again, made me want to kick ass, start a revolution, and lie down and die.

You just don't see movies like that at the big multiplexes. I don't like multiplexes. I go to them because they are basically the only theatres around now, but I do it under protest. A journalist here in Toronto wrote an article about the upcoming closings of the repertory theatres, and he described the inside of these mulitplexes so perfectly, I thought: he called them "electrified grottoes". Man, was that accurate. Whenever I step into one of those multiplex madhouses, I feel as if I'm the ball in a giant pinball machine, being bounced off the flipper to the popcorn stand, the candy stand, the movie posters for upcoming attractions, the video games, the ice cream stand, the latte stand ... it is a relentless assault of the senses and the wallet.

I grew up in a neighbourhood of Toronto that was lucky enough to have two large theatres: the Humber and the Runnymede. The Humber was closed down years ago and has been standing vacant (except for a random book sale or two) ever since, awaiting the wrecking ball. The Runnymede followed not too long after; it became a Chapters bookstore, and I'll give them credit for keeping some of the architectural features of the old theatre ... at least the ghost of it is still very much alive every time you walk in. But the Humber is a different story. It is just empty. It always feels sad to me to walk past it and look in the empty showcases where posters for movies like The Poseidon Adventure and Earthquake used to be so prominently displayed ... movies my brothers and I eagerly lined up to see. It feels very sad to remember the old, grand staircase, the bannister I used to feel sliding underneath my hand, as I hurried down the stairs to find a good seat, and realize that it will be nothing but dust sooner or later.

It is heinous, in my opinion, for independently run theatres to close. Such a valuable part of our culture will die, to be replaced by what? Starbucks coffee and ads for Britney Spears' latest cd to pop up over and over again on the screen as you wait for your movie to start. Have you noticed how many commercials and ads you have to sit through to get to a movie now? It's ridiculous. You might as have a "go ahead, manipulate me" sign on your head as soon as you sit down.

How I long for the days when you could still walk into a movie theatre and see an old-fashioned candy counter, complete with huge popcorn popper, smell the pervasive scent of buttery chemicals, and walk down a sloping floor to come face to face with one big screen. But those days are gone, gone, gone. Put up the headstone and mourn.

I'm Such A Devil Sometimes

I don't think John Lennon had this in mind when he wrote "Imagine", but picture this ...

Some meteorological or atmospheric storm or condition suddenly overwhelms the planet Earth, and the only survivors are fat women and men. All the thin women got vaporized immediately because of the lack of fat and flesh on their bones, and the ones who were really nasty died first (some chemical thing). Only fat women and men were left, and all the asshole men were massacred by the really good guys who fought valiantly in order to mate with us.

Aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh ... Dream on, baby.

I Made a Truce With My Hips

I was watching a show on Life Network here in Canada yesterday called "X-Weighted". I don't know if they show it in the U.S. or not. Anyway, it's a show that features a person each week who really wants to lose weight and pushes their body to the limit in order to do so. Yesterday, it featured a young married woman who weighed about 239 pounds. She wanted to get down to 160 and thought for sure she could do it in 6 months. (Sister, I admire your optimism, but unless you want to move to Ethiopia or go on the Dr. Bernstein diet ...)

Anyway, it struck me as I watched this show, and it has also struck me as I have watched similar shows, that this woman had an extremely pretty face. I would even go so far as to say she was beautiful. I thought to myself, Okay, you're a large woman, but you're far from unattractive. She was married, she had a cute husband and two adorable kids. She felt badly about herself, though. They had this self-esteem "expert" come in and look through her closet to assess her wardrobe, and her wardrobe definitely reflected her lack of self-esteem. She had no skirts. None. Her entire wardrobe consisted almost entirely of track suits and baggy tops and pants. Her comments really horrified me too. When the guy asked her if she ever dressed in anything sexy, she said, "God, no." She never showed her legs or anything. She obviously hated her body, and was totally ashamed of the way she looked. Yet I thought, and I'm sure most people who saw her would agree, she was a very pretty girl.

Believe me, I am far from happy with my body. There are parts of myself I wish I could hack off, I hate them so much. My hips, for one. I can't stand them. Ever since I was about twelve years old they have haunted me and made me so self-conscious. Yet, sometimes I can be compassionate with my hips. I feel that rush of disgust and hatred when I look at them, and then I think, You know what, hips? I'm sorry I say such awful things to you. I know if you could be different, you would be. You don't look the way you do to spite me. You are there for a reason. And I need to start thinking more about the reason you are there then how much I hate how you look. You're a part of me, and for me to hate any part of myself is really a sin. It's not right.

This woman was obviously in the mode of hating her body and not giving it any slack at all. It's so sad what we women do to ourselves. We are bombarded with bullshit at every turn telling us how we ought to look. Who the fuck is anyone to tell us how we ought to look? Why don't we all just band together and give them a giant middle finger? Why don't we get angry about it more often, why don't we rebel ... why do we keep taking it? Why do we keep trying to conform?

We need to be kinder to ourselves. We need to look in the mirror and see the beauty in us that other people see. We need to be grateful for it.

Happy Father's Day, Dad

This post is dedicated to my wonderful dad: Jan. 22, 1922-May 8, 1985

I never called my dad "daddy". He was always "dad". He was a thick, muscular man. He was born in the Ukraine, lived in Germany during World War II, and emigrated to England after the war, which is where he met my mother.

My dad was tough. He could scare the hell out of you. He sure scared the hell out of me on occasion, and sometimes I hated him. He had a really bad temper which, I now believe, stemmed from a lot of emotional insecurities. He didn't have the time or leisure to sit down and read a self-help book and go and get psychoanalyzed. He would have hissed in contempt at the thought. There were bills to be paid, work to get done. And us kids could really get on his nerves. We were always making too much noise and bothering him. That's when the temper would manifest itself, and one or all of us would get the back of his hand. It was a fucking strong hand, too. The kind that could tear down a tree. So, we learned to tiptoe around him when he was in those moods. Yet, he loved me. I knew he loved me. I was his only girl, and the youngest. I was his princess. My mother used to joke about it and say it in a cloying way: "You're his princess." But I think she was just jealous. Because when my dad was feeling fine, secure, and content -- which wasn't often enough, and I wish it had been so much more -- he could be the kindest, gentlest man you would ever meet.

My dad worked in a factory for over 20 years. He worked the night shift, because it paid a bit more. He would leave the house at around 9:15 and come home at about 7 in the morning. Very often, he would bring home packages of soup and other foods that were made in the factory. Because he was an employee, he got them at a discount, and me and my brothers grew up eating that food. I still eat food made by the same company today, and every time I do, I think of him.

One morning, shortly before he was due to retire, my dad was driving home from work and had to pull over because he was having excruciating pain in his groin. He thought he just had to urinate, but when he tried, blood came out. He went to the doctor and went through various tests. Soon afterward, he had to go into the hospital for a biopsy. This is a procedure where they remove a sample of tissue and test it for cancer cells. It was positive. My dad was diagnosed with bladder cancer and scheduled for an operation.

I can only describe the next one or two years as absolute hell. I was only 19 or so at the time, and I was not ready to lose my dad. Yet, as soon as I heard that word "cancer", I knew. I knew it would be bad. So much of my dad's life had been bad. He'd told me about some of his experiences during the war, being forced to sit in the corner to eat in the home of a family he was working for. He said they treated him like an animal, and I have no doubt they did, because I know how cruel people can be, especially when they sense someone vulnerable nearby. Anyway, I just had a feeling that the outcome wouldn't be good, and it wasn't. When they operated, they found a large tumour in his bladder and had to remove his bladder. After that, he was no longer able to urinate the normal way. He had a bag attached to his stomach that held his urine and it had to be changed once or twice a day. I knew this was one of the worst possible things that could happen to my dad. He was such a big, strong man, and now he couldn't even go to the bathroom anymore. It took away his self-respect and his manhood. I knew this and it broke my heart. It was so hard to look at him sometimes, because he got so depressed. He was scared too, and so was I. We both knew that just because he had had this operation didn't mean he was cured. Everyone knew it could come back, and if it did, it would just be a matter of time. And that's what happened. It came back anyway, after degrading his body (as if that weren't enough), and this time, there was no operation possible.

I don't think I could ever describe how horrible it was to see my dad wither away. Each day, he seemed to get thinner, weaker, sadder, and more scared. I had never seen my dad scared of anything or anyone before. It scared me, seeing him scared. The worst thing was just seeing that powerful body shrink before my eyes. It was like he was disappearing, and I was so terrified. It was the only I could think about every day. The fact that my dad was sick took over all of our lives. It was not possible to think of having any real fun or doing anything for long that would distract you. It was like the elephant in the room. My dad was dying. And all of us knew it.

He had to go to a chronic care hospital because there was no way we could care for him at home. He was getting confused, belligerent, difficult. It seemed to me like once he found out the cancer came back, he just started to die, and his brain was one of the first organs affected. It was so horrible. He was in the hospital for a few months. Then, early one morning, they called us to get down to the hospital as soon as possible, because he wasn't doing too well. We all know what that is a euphemism for.

He came to visit me, his little princess, to say goodbye and let me know he was okay before he moved on. I felt his spirit come up a staircase behind me and push open a door. I felt a little breeze and I knew it was him. Then, inside my head, I heard him say, I'm fine, don't worry about me, and it was as if I could see him standing there, beaming with happiness, and I was so happy and glad for him, but then I thought, No, please don't go! But a second later, he was gone.

I miss my dad. He never got to see me get married, or see his granddaughter. I know he would have been absolutely thrilled to see his little baby granddaughter when she was born, and see her growing up now. I'm sure I would now be relegated to Princess #2 and my daughter Emily would get Princess #1 spot. :-) But that is just fine with me. I would so have loved to put my baby girl in his arms and have him hold her and let him see that his life was not all just work, drudgery, and struggle. Some good things did come out of it. I would love to talk to him and get his advice now, on some things I have gone through, and am going through. I could always talk to my dad.

My dad was nobody fancy. He didn't have fancy aspirations, he didn't have fancy ideals, he didn't have fancy anything. He was just a hardworking man who did the best he could for his family. I know in my heart that he was very unhappy with the way his life had turned out. I'm sure there were moments he wished he could just get in his car and drive off and wash his hands of the responsibility. Being a parent now myself, I can definitely relate to that feeling.

He was a magnificent man. Absolutely magnificent. And I will always love him, and he will always be my hero.

My Self-Esteem Has Definitely Picked Up Steam

Recently, one of my favourite blogs (http://fattymcblog.blogspot.com) had a post on something called "hogging", with a link to an article written about it. For those of you who are not familiar with the term, hogging is a group activity. The group consists of a bunch of late teen or 20-something males (although I'm sure men of any age aren't exempt) who go out to bars and deliberately pick up fat women to have sex with. They consider this "settling" ... getting their dicks sucked is better than no sex at all, and most other women wouldn't give them the time of day. They have sex with these fat women, then either run as fast as they can and tell all their friends about their exploits, or in some cases even arrange to have their friends watch from a closet or some other area while he is taking advantage of the fat female.

Anyway, that post got me thinking a lot about my younger days. I was definitely "hogged", allright. When my friends and I would go out to bars together, I would always be the one sitting alone at the table while my friends were asked to dance. Or guys would send over drinks with a note for my friend(s), but not for me, and I would feign excitement for the friend while thinking, "Motherfucker! Why doesn't that ever happen to me?"

I'm sure that I was considered a "last resort" by many of the guys I met and made out with. I actually had full sex with very few of them (I could probably count them on one hand and have fingers left over), but there is no doubt I made out, heavily petted, and sucked a lot of them off. The one positive I can think of, though, and I left a comment on this on the other blog, is at least I got some sexual practice out of these assholes. I got to perfect my sexual skills and technique for lovers who actually deserved my attentions.

Now ... God, what a different woman I am now. I can spot an asshole a mile off, and believe me, he won't get anywhere near yours truly. I've run into a lot of these types online. I remember one guy sent me an instant message on msn messenger once, then sent me all these little symbols of people having sex when I asked him what he liked to do. Guess what his nickname was? "Truckguy". Big surprise, eh? I can so easily see this guy sitting at a table with his buds, scoping out the fat chicks for the end of the evening, when they've been shot down by every single woman they consider "bangable". I can hear the snickers, the crude comments ... I've heard them all before.

Someone on the other blog commented that he thought the fat girls were getting what they deserved, as they had the "low morals" to have sex with someone they just met. Well, let me enlighten him and all other people who think like this. Fat girls who have sex with guys they just meet do not have low morals. They are just lonely. Do you think they wouldn't prefer for some guy to take them to dinner and send them roses? But they know that is not likely to happen, so they take what they can get. Remember, fat women are women ... why do people forget that? And they have the same sexual desires and frustrations that other women do. Try going without sex for months when your hormones are keeping you up at night and you can't fucking sleep because all you can think about is the last time you got laid and how good it would feel to have a dick inside you again. All of a sudden, some asshole asking you to go down on him in his car isn't such a bad option after all. Believe me, it's not the guy's charm or good looks that make her do it. It's the fucking loneliness and sexual frustration.

In the end, of course, spontaneous sex in a parking lot or motel room or wherever is not a good option, because it can lead to sexual disease as well as heartache when the fat girl realizes that the succulence of her blowjob was not enough to have the guy overlook her size, as she more than likely wished. I am just so glad that that period of my life is over, and I now have enough love and respect for myself to never ever fall prey to users and manipulators like this.

A Date

I had my first date in months yesterday. This was the first time I have been out with a guy since my disastrous relationship with the jerk who broke my heart. I met this new guy online, of course. :-) It was funny because he had contacted me first a few months ago, right around the time I lost my job. He'd sent me a couple of emails but hadn't gotten back to me very punctually, and combining the irritation of that with the utter calamity of losing my job, I just had let it slide and not answered him for awhile and figured he was just another anonymous electronic person in the multitudes out there.

But he contacted me again after he saw my profile on another dating site. I recognized his nickname right away (it was the same) and I thought .... hmmmm ... is this a sign or something? All those months ago he'd contacted me, nothing came of it, and here was another opportunity. Was this a nudge from the universe, I wondered. So I answered him, told him I remembered him from before, and would love to try getting acquainted again if he was willing. He said he was, and we began emailing each other quite a lot, and chatted on msn messenger a couple of times. Those chats got pretty flirtatious and hot ... :-) although he was a perfect gentleman, I must admit, he made sure to tell me to please tell him if he was crossing the line and offending me in any way. But he wasn't, it was just fun flirtation, back and forth, and finally we set up a meeting yesterday.

It couldn't have started off more ominously. The left rear tire on my car had been flat the day before, and I'd filled it with air and it seemed to be okay. I actually drove on the highway with it and it was fine. But as I drove towards our rendezvous, (it was a beautiful sunny day and I had the sunroof open and the window down) I could smell the distinct, acrid odour of burning rubber and I thought, uh oh, that's not good. So I pulled into a mall parking lot and sure enough, my tire was absolutely decimated. The thing was shredded beyond belief, I cannot believe I made it as far as I did and furthermore, that I didn't get into a horrible accident. I used my cell phone to call him and let him know where I was (I was only a little way down the street from our meeting point), then called CAA to come and change my tire, cuz I'm a woman and have no fucken idea how to do it, no matter how many times my ex showed me, and who would want to do it anyway.

To make a long story short, my tire got changed, I waited, and he showed up. Let me say a few words about this guy. He is absolutely, wonderfully sweet. A honeybun. He is a big guy, the stereotypical teddy bear, the kind of guy who could absolutely envelop you in his arms. I gave him a hug as soon as I saw him and showed him the remains of my tire. Then we went to a coffee shop at the mall since it was close by, and we talked.

You know how many times I've complained in the past about how much I hate superficial men, how disgusted I am by their snobbery towards bigger women? Well, I have to admit, I found myself being a hypocrite. It turns out I am just as superficial as any guy out there, because much as I like this guy, think he is sweet and has a wonderful personality, I really wasn't attracted to him physically. He is quite large, and he is balding. I hate myself as I'm writing this. But I can't deny it. I just wasn't attracted, much as I wanted to be. I could tell he was attracted to me. I had gone all out and worn a really sexy scoop-necked top to show off my spectacular cleavage, my long golden blonde hair was flowing, I was made up perfectly, spritzed with perfume, and was wearing tawny amber jewellery to match my hair. I enjoyed the fact that he was attracted, but I knew it wasn't happening with me.

We decided to move on to a park after the coffee shop, and sat on a bench in the sunshine and talked. He kept laughing nervously and asking me to say something when the conversation trailed off a bit, which irritated me a little, because I really didn't know what to say. I was just enjoying being out in the sunshine, and I'm not uncomfortable with silence. But I tried to keep the conversation going as best I could. We talked about our exes. I told him about my relationship with my husband, and he told me about the major relationship in his life. He'd lived with a woman for 6 1/2 years and she had left. He hadn't wanted her to, but she was cheating on him with her boss. He told me he'd been bitter about it for awhile, but knew that he had to let it go or it would eat him up inside. I told him about my struggles to leave my husband the ensuing guilt and problems. We talked about our families.

Eventually he put his arm around me and I didn't stop him. I wasn't attracted, but I didn't mind. Then he kissed me, and I let him do that. I didn't mind it either, but it wasn't fireworks. We even tongued each other a little and it was pleasant, but ... when there's a but, you know it's not working.

Anyway, when we said goodbye, I told him that I'd really enjoyed meeting him and that he was a very nice guy. I lied and told him he was a good kisser even though I've had better. I don't know why. I guess I'm pretty good at lying to men to protect their feelings. But I think he might have known I wasn't as interested as he was. He drove me back to my car in the mall parking lot and we hugged goodbye. I told him to call me and I hope he does. I would like to see him again because I think he's a very nice guy, but I don't think there's a destiny-type romance in it. But I figure, not everyone is 100% THE person, and that doesn't mean you can't have anything to do with them. That's what dating is all about. You get to know people, you spend time with them, and have fun. Nothing wrong with that.

Fuck. It's pretty depressing when you find out there are aspects of yourself that you despise in other people.

That Sinking Feeling

I was feeling so good yesterday. I was planning to go up north, but the weather here was terrible. It was raining all day, from moderately to hard, and I decided to stay in town instead. I took Emily to Blockbuster to get her a couple of videos and Dora, from Dora the Explorer was there. It was so cute. Emily went absolutely nutso, a couple of other little kids were there and they all hugged her and they played hide and seek with her for awhile. I just felt so wonderful seeing her so happy and having so much fun. I got her a few videos and we left.

I came home, went on the computer, checked email as usual. There is this sort-of strange guy but very handsome, who has been contacting me recently. I have a feeling he might be a religious zealot of some sort because one of the first things he said to me was, "hope you're a good Christian." :-) What a laugh. Yeah, I'm a good Christian, and in my spare time I masturbate to porn and fantasize about fucking every man I see! :-) But I didn't take it too seriously, I'm just chatting with this guy, and if he turns out to be some religious freak, well ... have fun burning heretics, buddy!

In a nutshell, yesterday I just felt like my life was just fine ... not ideal, but fine. I wasn't depressed, I wasn't stressed, I wasn't anxious. I was cool with everything.

Then, first thing this morning my ex calls me. Says he's coming over. Okay. I could feel the tension rising in myself as I waited for him to show up, because every time we see each other now, he talks to me like a drill sergeant and starts listing all my faults, especially financial ones, and demanding I explain myself. I said to myself, if he starts fucking with me, I'll just tell him to leave.

Anyway, he comes in, tells me to sit down (yes, tells, he still thinks he can do that) and starts waving around some paper in his hand. Then he starts asking me, how has your internet been doing, blah blah blah. In a nutshell, turns out he's been reading my emails and he started asking me about these guys I've been talking with. He says, "you told me you wanted a year to think things over, it's been 4 months, I just want to know if things are going to change or stay the same between us." Meaning, are we going to get back together. yes, this is my ex's way of expressing emotion. I told him, why the fuck would we get back together? Absolutely nothing has changed, you basically ignore me whenever we see each other, you have made no attempt to reconcile or let me know you want to reconcile ... why would anything change? Then he starts saying, then I want a divorce, I want all my stuff back, the computer, you have to pay me for half the t.v., blah blah blah.

My peaceful weekend has gone right down the toilet.

Despite all my ex's failings, of which he has so many, and God knows I have mine, I still felt bad seeing him sit there defeated. I just cannot figure out why this man chooses to communicate the way he does. How the hell could he think that it would be effective, that anything good would come of it? And this is what makes me feel so sad for him, and so guilty. He's so misguided in so many ways and so lost and so alone. Part of me wants to put my arms around him and make it better, but then the part of me that is healthy and wants to survive and be happy wants to just keep as far away from him as I can and then run further. I have known since I left and even before that the best thing for us to do, in the long run, is to divorce and completely cut all ties (except Emily), just not see each other, let him hate me and blame me for everything like he wishes and live with that. It is NEVER EVER going to fucking work.

Anyway, I felt so bad seeing him sitting there that I told him, Look, do you want to have an honest, heart-to-heart talk, no ranting and raving, no judgmentalism ... let's do that, we owe it to each other for as long as we have been together, our marriage, our child . I immediately regretted it because I know that no amount of discussion will fix the situation. He is just so black-and-white and egocentric and stubborn about his points of view that I know he will not listen and keep telling me what an awful person I have been, etc. etc.

Fuck. I am not looking forward to this. Why do I always have to cave in to that "nice girl" inside me who wants to make everyone feel better, when it makes me feel worse?