Sunday, June 26, 2011

Here's The Thing

Dear Diary:

Here is a little more thorough explanation of my general mood at the moment.

I am not mad at my ex for getting married again. Far from it. I don't wish her happiness because frankly, I just do not care. I am completely indifferent towards her, her life, who she knows, who she sleeps with, etc, etc, etc.

I guess what bothers me are the reminders that I am not where I want to be, personally. I don't like being reminded that my marriage imploded, then exploded, then ended up on the scrap heap. I have those thoughts on my own. I do not need to hear news about her, nor see her, nor see one of her friends who was a bridesmaid in my wedding to remind me of that.

My roommate was in my wedding. My brother was in my wedding. So was my neighbor, who has been a friend since we were in high school. I have my own reminders, and while they still sting every now and again, the pain lessens and lessens with each passing day and the stings come more and more infrequently.

What annoys me is that I am reminded once again, but through news of her, or seeing someone that works with her (which happens often because we are in the same field). I do not know what stories she may have told them, and frankly I do not care. But seriously, this city is big enough so that I do not have to run into you, right?

And I am not sad. I am just honestly pissed off that I had to be reminded of her through news of her, and yes, seeing her and that bridesmaid (who, truth be told, had her face painted by my roommate the night of my wedding, and he wasn't using Sherwin Williams if you catch my drift).

I have gone to great lengths to keep her far away from me. I have not gone to certain restaurants alone, nor have I ventured into certain parts of the city. I also tend to stay in my area of town since it is convenient and let's be honest, the H Street/Atlas district is pretty fucking awesome. I have also kept people who work with both of us at a great distance. When it comes to them, I am strictly business.

Life goes on. Mine certainly has and it will continue to do so. Hell, in a ton of respects, my life is pretty fucking great. I have a great family, kick ass friends, a nice home, a nice new SUV, and financial stability. Not to mention I managed to grow tomatoes in the shitty ass DC soil (ok, it isn't even soil, its clay, with rocks, brick, and old glass bottles). Seriously, the plants are like 3 feet high now, and I think I am going to have enough tomatoes to feed Italy. Salad or pasta anyone?

And I make my own rules. Now if anyone (preferably a nice blond lady with killer legs and eyes that make you whimper) would care to join me, feel free. Just remember...


STRAP ON YOUR SEAT BELTS!!! It is going to be one hell of a ride.

There, NOW I'm back.

Sincerely,

TDG

Saturday, June 25, 2011

And...

Dear Diary:

She got married.

Eh.

Thursday, June 23, 2011

20 Years In The Making

Dear Diary:

There are some bands that one just gets. Their music somehow just resonates. Whether it is the lyrics, or the music itself, it just clicks.

20 years ago, I really got into U2. I have pretty much all of their stuff. In fact, I think I do have all of their stuff, from Boy to No Line On The Horizon. I think Achtung Baby is amazing, Rattle and Hum a work of genius, and The Joshua Tree very well may be one of the single greatest albums of all time.

And last night, after 20 years of waiting, since basically the Zoo TV tour, I finally saw them live, in Baltimore.


This was also the first stadium show I have ever been to, and it was worth the wait. You could literally feel the music in your seat, not that I was sitting down much.


The seats were great, and I am fortunate to have a friend who took me for my birthday.


The stage was unbelievable, and honestly, I don't even want to imagine how much it cost to put on the show.


But it was....


simply amazing and....


worth the trip, and the sweltering heat (I swear I sweated out like 5 lbs)

And fortunately, I have some pictures to always remember it, as well as a great memory, shared with a close friend whom I have known half my life.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

WTF Kind of Karma Is This?

Dear Diary:

I saw my ex last week.

I saw one of the women who was a bridesmaid in my wedding today.

She lives 1000 fucking miles away, but was in town for a work related event that I just happened to be at.

Really?

No, I mean, fucking really?

Give me a fucking break.

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

And Then It Happened...

Dear Diary:

I have been going on, living my life, working crazy hours, and trying to enjoy my downtime as much as possible.

One part of my job entails going to receptions. A lot of receptions. These are generally decent events, with free flowing alcohol and decent food, but no one really eats at these things. Eating will take up room in one's stomach that is reserved for the open bar. And we all know how important an open bar is, don't we?

Well, there was an event tonight that I had to go to in the building located right next door to the office my ex-wife works in. And for some reason, I knew I would see her.

And I did.

It was only a glance, but I walked right past her. Her coworkers looked back in my direction, like they had almost seen a ghost. I kept my head looking straight ahead and didn't pay attention to it for the most part.

This was the first time I had seen her in over 2 years. It was the first time I heard her laughing in almost 3.

And that is what pissed me off.

I wasn't ready to hear that laugh. I wasn't ready because I put on a decent amount of weight recovery from surgery and it is taking me forever to drop it, so I looked like hell.

I didn't want that.

I think when people see their respective ex's, they want to somehow have the upper hand, whether it is seeing them while you are with someone new, and someone better, or seeing them and feeling better, and looking better.

I was with my boss. And while I have put on a considerable amount of muscle, particularly in my upper body, I still have a gut, and it is noticeable, although I dress well.

But did I feel sad? Did I feel a sense of loss? No, I didn't. I just felt weird. And even though I had a feeling I could very well see her tonight, part of me still thought that the city was big enough to not to ever have to see her again.

And that laugh? It made me cringe. It just seemed so fucking fake. I hate fake.

No, really, I do.

Thursday, June 9, 2011

On Friends and Finances

Dear Diary:

My dad used to warn me to never get into business with friends and family. It seems a little harsh, but in reality, it always seems to play out that if you get into business with friends and family, you will somehow get the shaft.

The thing is, I do not mind being generous with money. I don't mind picking up a check. I don't even mind picking up a hotel room. I don't mind buying groceries either.

What I do mind is when people take advantage of said generosity. I do mind when people say they will pitch in and don't. What I do mind is when I buy groceries, say like frozen chicken, and people take it out, and don't fucking cook it and it goes bad.

THAT'S MY MONEY MOTHERFUCKER!!

If I am going to be generous with it, I am going to do it on my terms. You do not get to decide to change your mind when you say you will pitch in and then when its brought up all of a sudden disappear and give excuses. I....FUCKING....HATE....THAT.

If you say you are going to do something, then FUCKING DO IT. Keep your word, especially when it comes to money. People work hard for it. I work hard for mine, which means I get to do with it what I so choose. If I want to be generous, then I will be, but for the love of all that is good and holy, do two things for me, would you please?

Don't take advantage of my generosity, and KEEP YOUR FUCKING WORD.

Monday, June 6, 2011

Women Aren't The Only Ones

Dear Diary,

Men have body issues too. There I said it.

Ok, so I am overweight. Not morbidly obese overweight. Not taking an elevator up one flight of stairs because my fat ass can't be bothered with the physical exertion overweight. But, I have love handles, and then some.

But I also have a significant amount of muscle. I can feel it under the excess body mass. So, I have some padding, but I also know what lies beneath. If I were to flex my arms, the odds of one being able to wrap both hands around them are slim, well, unless your hands are the size of catcher's mits, then well, maybe, just maybe.

But, none of this is good enough really. The excess weight takes my confidence, puts it in a blender, then tosses gasoline on it, lights it on fire, and puts it out with a big pile of shit.

So you will have to forgive me if I want to ram a hot piece of metal through my nostril up into my brain when I hear women bitch about body image issue. The whole, "These jeans make my ass look huge! I want to die" type shit annoys the ever living crap out of me. YOU AREN'T THE ONLY ONES WHO DEAL WITH THIS SHIT. Guys do, we just don't talk about it so much.

Sure, women can blame the media and Hollywood for portraying an unrealistic ideal of what is beautiful. That is a fact, and it doesn't help that people get reality TV shows and are made to be celebrities just for the fact they fit into some made-up social construct of what is beautiful, when in reality they have zero talent, and the best part of them dribbled down the crack of their mother's ass.

(For the record, I really love that last line, and I hope it isn't copyrighted)

But there is an unrealistic portrayal of what is means to be an attractive male in today's world as well. Not all of us, and in fact most of us, do not have bodies that look like they were chiseled by Michelangelo. We are all not 6'4, muscular, with little or no body hair, tan, with blue eyes. But, society has deemed that features such as those are what is desirable. So, guys like me look at that, and hear women swoon over that, and well, think, fuck, I am going to be alone, forever. I am ugly. No one will ever be attracted to me because I am chubby. And no woman will even want to talk to me because she wouldn't even give me a second glance.

So we retreat. We retreat into silence. We walk around and see happy couples, walking hand in hand. We see them at night, kissing on the corner as we walk home, alone. And we go home, and look in the mirror, and hate the reflection. And we become fixated on it, and hate it even more.

So no, women aren't the only ones who have body image issues. Guys just don't talk about it much.

Until now I guess.