(F**k a) Silver Lining (Part Three)

As I watched the man that I thought was the love of my life walk into his house with another woman, about a million thoughts ran through my mind. He’s cheating on me? No, he can’t be. He wouldn’t do that. There has to be another explanation. No, you fucking dummy, he’s a fucking lying, cheating, asshole, and you should probably go in there and murder them both. Honest to god, I don’t condone murder for any reason, but it wasn’t until this night where I truly understood how murders of passion happen. Because the sudden white hot rage I felt was astounding.

I fumbled for my phone for a minute, my hands shaking so bad I could barely unlock the damn thing, and I went into my text message conversation with him and told him to get his fucking ass outside immediately. A minute later, he appeared, and I wasted no time unleashing holy hell on him. I can’t for the life of me remember much about what I said, just a lot of “How could you do this to me?” and “Why?” and “Who is she?” and “How long has this been going on.” To which he gave me absolutely nothing but “3 weeks”. I kept trying to get answers from him, and he just sat there, stone faced, saying nothing, not looking guilty or sorry or anything. He looked almost mad that I was yelling at him. He told me we’d talk about it later. And like an idiot, stunned at the absolute lack of fucks given that I was upset, I accepted that, and somehow (and I’ll never know how) drove myself home.

One of the few nice things about living with someone is that when shit hits the fan you don’t have to deal with the misery alone. When I got home, my step sister was asleep on the couch, and she woke when I came in the door. And I told her everything. Told her what happened, and she also was in total disbelief. She had gotten to know Henry over the last few months too. She was blown away that he could ever do that. We talked for awhile, then I talked with my parents, and texted some of my closest people. And somehow I remained fairly calm. I hadn’t cried much, not really. I cried more during the first 10 minutes of Up! than I did in those first few hours after all this happened that night. It was so weird. For any of you who have seen The Holiday with Cameron Diaz and Kate Winslet, I cried like Cameron Diaz does in the scene where she’s trying to force it. “Just one tear.” She says, but all it is is an act, not actual crying. That was me. I was making the motions, and almost hyperventilating, but no fluid was coming from my face. So bizarre.

I went down to my room, and was sitting on my bed, reeling. I kept replaying everything. I went back into our text conversation and read back to see what I had missed. And in doing so, in sitting at home and stewing for a while, I started to get angry. Livid in fact. Ok, so that motherfucker gets caught cheating, and I’m sent away as if I’m the asshole, while he still gets to go ahead and fuck that woman anyways because now the pesky girlfriend is gone?!? No. Fucking. Way.

I got back into my car and drove back over to his house. And I was pumped up. No more Miss Nice Guy. No more of this bullshit that I’m overreacting. No more letting this fucking asshole get away with doing this shit and not having any real consequences. I stormed up to his front door, and started to wail on it. The lights were still on, so I knew they were in there, her car was still parked across the street. It took a few minutes but he finally opened the door (I’m assuming it took him so long, cause he had to put his fucking pants back on) and boy, did he not look impressed that I was there. He had that mad, stonewall look on his dumb face again. And I just let. Him. Have. It. I can’t remember all of what I said, (again, I think I partially blacked out) but the gist of it was that he was a garbage human, and that if either him or her thought that they could make anything work knowing that this is how they started that they were living in a god damned fantasy world. (And believe me when I tell you that I told him this at a volume where not only did she FOR SURE hear this, but that I’m sure half the neighbourhood heard as well.) I told him how awful it was to make me feel like I wasn’t enough, when he had been cheating on me for weeks! And still he stood there, not saying anything, his stupid face not changing.

The only time I saw him soften, and make a look like I had maybe finally struck a nerve was when I brought up his kids. When I asked him if she would be as good to his kids and love them like I did. If she would play XBox with his son, and Shopkins with his daughter. He didn’t respond, but his face changed, it was slight, but a little bit like he got hit with something, like he finally registered what I was saying, which means maybe there was a human buried in there somewhere after all.

And then, just as quickly as that jolt on his face was, it was gone, the angry, stonewall was back and he told me to leave. He even threatened to call the cops on me if I didn’t. Yup. That’s the piece of shit I was in love with. He does all that to me, and when I justifiably get pissed, he threatens me. So I yelled at him a little more, called him garbage a few more times, and then when I felt like I had said all I needed to, I left.

I got back home, and the second I was back in the comfort of my home, the dam broke, and the tears came. I’ve cried less at funerals. I have been hurt before, sure. I’ve shed many tears over the years for many guys. When Kevin and I broke up, that was hard, but this, what Henry did to me was like nothing else. At least Kevin was man enough to tell me he was unhappy. He told me why. He sat and cried with me, and held me, and apologized profusely for hurting me so much, and all he did was fall out of love with me. Holy fuck if only I would have been given even half of that kind of treatment from Henry I would have been lucky.

I barely slept that night of course, and I spent a good chunk of the night back and forth between texting with my night owl friends who were still awake, and bursting into hysterics where I could barely breathe.

Unsurprisingly I immediately heard from Erik, who had seen my post on Facebook (yeah, I let my dirty laundry out on Facebook. I’m not proud about it, and have since deleted the post, but yeah, I turned 17 again for a minute there in my rage, turns out my Hulk is a petty teen girl with an active social media following. You go girl!) but he offered me some comfort when I needed it the most, and I always will appreciate him for that very reason. He started dating someone in September, which is a damn shame, because in that moment I would have given anything to get a hug from him, but that ship has sailed. (And they are still together, FYI)

The next day I still wanted answers, but unfortunately Henry didn’t want to give me any. I was trying to meet with him, to calmly talk, I just needed some closure. I needed to know why. But that day would never come. He kept bailing saying that he wasn’t feeling well. Ya, no shit, your guilt is chewing up your insides, congratulations, you aren’t a complete fucking monster after all! But after a couple days of still trying to arrange a time to meet with no luck, I said enough. I knew in my heart that he was never going to meet with me. He was never going to face what he did. I left his things that were left at my place on his front step, sent a nice long message getting my final feelings off my chest via voice note, and that was it. I haven’t seen him or heard from him since. And the worst part of all of this? Not once, not that night, not by text message, not once has he said he was sorry.

It’s been just over 4 months since that night happened. And every once in awhile I still have flashbacks to that night, to seeing them walk together into his house. My mind plays even worse tricks on me when I imagine what else they are doing that night, and it still makes me physically ill. I hate that I can’t just erase the memory of not only that night, but of all of it. I know that you can learn something from every experience, but honest to god, if I could time travel back to my birthday last year, and not even meet him, I would. I would undo it all. Because I have no idea what in our relationship was ever real. Cause I have a feeling that he had been seeing her for way longer than 3 weeks. And I also have a feeling that they worked together. And even looking back to the beginning of our relationship I question if he had been seeing someone else when we met. Was that why I didn’t see him very often at the beginning? Was he maybe not as separated from his wife as he led me to believe? Was I the other woman when we got together? I had so many questions, none of which I’ll ever have the answers to, so I’d rather just undo it all. Take all the good, I don’t care as long as all the bad goes with it.

4 months and I’m still healing. I started dating fairly soon after, and have met quite a few new guys. Of course, I’m still single, so obviously none that have become anything. But apart of me is even more closed off now. I don’t really know if I want to let someone in again. How do I move on? How do I open myself up and trust someone with my whole heart? How do I trust another man ever again? And how long do I have to wait for my heart to fucking heal?

Thanks for sticking with me through this clusterfuck of events. I’m sure there is more for me to work out, I now have even more trust issues and less motivation to put myself in the position to get hurt again. So perhaps there will be another post sooner than later, I don’t know. It’s astounding to me that anyone still reads these. But I’m glad you do. And I’m glad that I was finally able to tell that story, as difficult as it was. Maybe I can find some closure on my own.



(F**k a) Silver Lining (Part Two)

My first clue that all was not as wonderful in my relationship as I thought it was came around Christmas time. For any of you who are newcomers, I have a very large family of step siblings, and every year at Christmas it can be quite the task to see everyone. And that’s when I’m single. When I’ve been in a relationship over the holidays, it has always been tricky to find a balance. And for Christmas 2017, this was even more so going to be the case. My dad and step mom and all my siblings and nieces and nephews had planned to go to a city one province over, about 4 hours away, to go to a hotel and do some skiing, and getting some shopping in over Christmas.

I really wanted to be with my love and his kids for Christmas. They felt like my family by that point too, but the trouble was that the kids had to return to their mom before we would be getting back from our trip. So, after a lot of figuring plans out with my mom’s side of the family, I ended up spending Christmas Eve and Christmas morning with him and the kids, before heading out of town. I wanted our first Christmas to be perfect. I spent weeks searching for the perfect gifts for his kids, and I even spent a good month knitting him a Doctor Who scarf. (Of course he likes Doctor Who…he’s British) I printed off pictures of him and his kids and framed them, since he kept saying he needed to do that, and never did, and I picked up some of his favourite British cookies to add in as well.

We had a nice supper together, and then I noticed something. He had home baked cookies on his counter top. He wasn’t a baker by any stretch, and they definitely weren’t store bought. I asked him where they were from. He told me that they were from a friend of his, who also has kids, she brought them by. She. She brought them by. The she part hit my stomach like a ton of bricks. But, he didn’t make a deal of it, and it was Christmas, and I thought to myself, “You’re over reacting. He loves you. He is not that kind of guy. He would never cheat on you.” So I ignored my gut, and pressed on, trying to enjoy the rest of the evening as much as I could. But I could feel a slight distance that I hadn’t noticed before.

In the morning, I wanted to wake up next to him, with him wishing me Merry Christmas as soon as we both woke up. I wanted to feel his warmth beside me, and to have him tell me that he loves me. Instead, I woke up as he was getting out of bed, where he went to the living room and I could hear him make a bowl of cereal for himself. I got up, got dressed, and went out to see him, but the warmth wasn’t there. It wasn’t the loving, warm, Christmas morning I was hoping for. And soon it was all about his kids (as it should be) and his parents whom were watching the gift opening over Skype from England. I felt involved, but as an outsider. But I knew that day wasn’t about me, so yet again I thought to myself, “You’re overreacting. He loves you. Today was about the kids. Let them have their day.” And yet again I pressed on.

I pressed on through my time away where his texts were few and far between. I pressed on on New Years Eve when I felt like I had coerced him to go to my dad’s for supper, and then felt stupid when I texted him after he and the kids left my dad’s to see if I could go back to his place for a bit, because he hadn’t invited me over, but his 3 year old daughter did instead. I could feel that something had changed. But every time I acknowledged that something was up, I kept telling myself that I was overreacting. Again. And again. And again.

In the new year we stopped seeing each other all the time, his excuses being that he was busy with work. He got this new promotion in December, so I was ok with not seeing him as much. Because his job was important. Of course his job was important. So little by little distance grew between us. We stopped having sex, we rarely spent the night together, and our evenings were usually cut down to 2 hour chunks before he would leave my place, or I would figure it was time to go home if I wasn’t staying over. I knew the distance wasn’t good, but I just kept convincing myself that we were just going through a rough patch, that things would settle down.

In mid January we hit a point where I thought it was the end, and then another where I thought we would be ok. It was around this point that he decided to go out of town for a night away with “an old buddy” he claimed to have, even though he and I hadn’t spent a full night together in months. That day, I snapped. Our first really big fight, and because I never saw him anymore, it happened over texting. That should have been it. I should have just ended it then. But, of course, I downplayed it, told myself I was being over dramatic, and too overbearing. He loves you, I kept telling myself.

Once in awhile he would do something that would reinforce the idea that he loved me. After that night away, he and I planned a full day together. A full day without work, without the kids, just him and I. And you know what happened that day? My niece was born that day. My beautiful baby niece who I was so excited to meet decided to come a week early, and now I had to choose whether to spend the day travelling to meet her, or to wait a day or two and spend the day with Henry instead. So I chose to meet her, and he came with me. It was the best of both worlds, although I felt guilty that I was changing our plans that day. I felt guilty and a little frustrated that that day of all days would be the day that baby was born. How ludicrous is that?

And the denial and the excuses, and the telling myself I was crazy went on for weeks. Then, 3 days after our mundane Valentine’s Day, everything fell apart.

It was a Monday night (it was a holiday Monday, Family Day if you can handle the irony there) and we had just come back from dropping his kids off with their mom (she lives 2 hours away, so we met at the halfway point for drop offs) On the way back to town, we decided to go somewhere for supper. We went, and it was fine, but he was busy on his phone through a lot of (claiming to be reading stuff about his soccer team) and I was just kinda trying to ignore it as much as I could. After we were done eating, we went back to his place. It was still early, so I followed him up to his door. When we got his his door, there was a heart shaped Valentines streamer on the doorknob to his front door. Weird, I thought, and he looked kind of puzzled by it, but he said that it must belong to the neighbour kid (he lived in a basement suite and the lady upstairs had a kid) and again, I thought nothing of it.

We went inside and sat on the couch for a few minutes watching tv. I got up to go to the bathroom, and when I came back out, he was putting his jacket on. He had this weird look on his face. I asked him what was going on, and he told me that he had gotten a text or a call (I don’t remember which he said) from his ex wife and that something had happened with his son. He wasn’t sure what, but he had to leave right away. I hurriedly put my jacket on, and left with him, him not saying so much as a goodbye, and me telling him to let me know what was going on. I got into my car, and watched as he pulled out of the driveway, and drove down the street and out of sight. I sat in my car for a minute feeling like this really was weird. I was also concerned for his son. What could have happened?

I put my own car into drive, and started to head home. I only lived 5 minutes or so from his place, but about half way home my gut was screaming at me that all of this felt weird. That he had been acting strange for weeks now, and that this didn’t feel right. Something didn’t feel right here. So instead of going home, i finally, FINALLY listened to my gut, and I drove around, back towards his house. But this time, I went down the opposite end of the street that I usually came down. And sure enough the first thing I saw when his house came into view was his vehicle parked back in his motherfucking driveway. The second thing I saw was him, across the street from his house, standing next to a car parked in front of the neighbours, with another woman. I drove past them, and parked a couple houses down just in time to see the two of them walk into his house with his arm around her waist, through my rear view mirror…

To be continued my blueberries. This is one of the hardest stories I’ve ever tried to tell, so I need to do it in smaller doses. I’ll be back with the finale soon.


(F**k a) Silver Lining (Part One)

I know, I know. It’s been well over a year. It’s been a long time since I’ve put pen to paper (or thumbs to iPhone screen as it were) but I feel like it’s about time I tell you all (the people who still come here, which by the way, wow! There are a lot of you who still come here from time to time! What link on Google sent you here of all places?!) anyways, where was I, oh yeah, it’s about time I tell you all about the most recent disaster in my love life. I figure it’s as good a time as any really, I’m sick with a stomach bug, so while my body is a total shit show (har dee har har) I should also get out the bug that is rotting the inside of my heart too. Maybe it will be cathartic. Or maybe I’ll just end up crying on the toilet. Who knows, that’s the fun of an adventure! (And to any of you disgusted by my literal shit talk, you know what the bible says, let the first guy who has never had the runs be the first to judge the girl crying on the toilet because of her ring of fire. OKAY, I’M DONE NOW, but y’all gotta admit, some of you out there smiled at that, I know it!)

So the last time you and I were here together I had just gotten back into the same rut as always with Erik. We were seeing each other quite frequently at that point. But I knew that we were never going to be more. And I was the one pulling away. I started to be the one to go, “Well, it’s about time to hit the ol’ dusty trail.” And would be getting dressed and leaving before things could get too 2012 “Olivia falling for Erik” again. Cause I knew this song and dance. I wasn’t going to be the one getting hurt this time. I wasn’t going to let myself fall for him again knowing full well that he was never going to want me. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to let my feelings or the picture of a potential (albeit completely unattainable) future together stop me from finding someone amazing.

So, last year, on my birthday, May 30th (mark it in your calendars, next year I expect presents damnit!) I signed up (again) on the dating site. And by the end of that night I had started to chat with the man who would (spoiler alert!) eventually shatter my heart and world to a million pieces.

His name was Henry (it wasn’t really, but you know the drill) and he was pretty great. He was a few years older than me, he was smart, funny, had a good job at a bank, he played the guitar, and he was British. He was great, but not perfect. He had been married, and when we met his divorce was only in the works, but not actually final. And, he had two kids. A son (8yrs old) and a daughter (3yrs old). But besides everything, we hit it off, and I figured, what the hell, we could at the very least meet and see where that goes.

A week after my birthday we met at a restaurant here. Nothing fancy, just a nice place where we could chat a bit. Over the week since we had first messaged online, we had continued to text and had even had a 2 hour phone call a few nights before we met. And the more I talked to him, the more I liked him. On the phone that night I told him about my love of chocolate, and he informed me that there is a Cadbury land in England that is reminiscent of Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory. He also gave me the hot tip that Walmart sells giant ass Cadbury Dairy Milks in the British food isle for only 5 bucks. I was excited about that cause I was (and still am) both cheap and chunky. So imagine my sheer delight when he got out of his vehicle at the restaurant carrying a giant ass Dairy Milk. We hadn’t even known each other for 5 minutes and I knew that I liked this guy.

The date from then on just kept getting better and better. We sat and chatted for 4 and a half hours. We literally closed the place down, and didn’t even realize it. I really liked him. So when there was talk of a second date, then a third, and then we were officially a couple, I was over the fucking moon. It just all seemed to work. We saw each other as much as we could, but he had his kids quite a bit, so at the beginning I didn’t see him as much as I would have liked. But his kids came first, because of course they were, so it was fine.

Finally after about two months of us being together I finally decided it was time to meet the kids. I was just as nervous to meet his kids as I was to meet him for the first time. It was the first time I had ever been dating a single dad, and while I have two wonderful step parents of my own, and I work with children for a living, I really had no idea how I was supposed to be with his kids. I knew that how I was with them, and how they felt about me would be a big deal. We met at a McDonalds for supper. The kids seemed shy at first, but after the chicken nuggets were done, they were able to play in the play place, so I ceased to exist to them after that point. I would have had to be dressed up like Ronald McFucking McDonald to get their attention once the play place became an option.

After that evening I got to spend time with him and his kids way more. His kids seemed to like having me around. His son would show me all the stuff on his Minecraft game, and his daughter would beg me to play Shopkins or Barbies with her. Henry would tell me that they would ask about me when he FaceTimed with them, and when they knew I was with him when they chatted, they wanted to say hi to me too. And I was falling in love. Not just with Henry, but with his family. I felt like they were falling for me too. The way I would sometimes catch Henry just looking at me with this stupid smile on his face, or how his kids faces would light up when they saw me. I could feel like we were falling together. I was dying to tell him, but resisted, I wanted him to say it first, so I waited patiently for him to make the first move. (I know this probably says a lot about who I am as a person, but I don’t care) So you can imagine how thrilled I was when one night after spending the day with him and the kids, as I was on his front step, giving him a goodnight kiss as I was leaving, he whispered in my ear that he loved me.

Things were going great. I was on cloud 9. I started to think of our future together. While I was falling deeper in love with him and his kids, he was trying to speed up his divorce. And the closer he got to that, the more I let myself picture us moving in together, him proposing, the words I would say to his kids on our wedding day, and how the kids would react if they were finding out that they were going to have a little brother or sister. I even pictured life with him as a retired couple. He talked all the time about one day moving back to England, and I could picture us, old, sitting on a porch swing somewhere in England together, bellies full of Cadbury, him playing his guitar for me while I knit something for the grandkids. It was a lovely picture.

However, as you already know from my opening paragraph (and the rest of my blog, let’s be honest) that this story doesn’t have a happy ending. And in order to get to that not so happy ending, I’m unfortunately going to have to leave you all in suspense for a little while. Cause I’m tired. And feeling blah.

Be well for now, my blueberries.


Nobody But Me

A few weeks ago, as I was thinking of writing this, I was sitting on a beach near Lakeview, looking out at a handful of little kids, who were making sand castles, splashing in the water and having fun as only children can on the last weekend of summer vacation. It was bright and warm like summer days should be, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. The days leading up to this one were almost unbearably hot (you know, for Canada anyways) but this day it was a touch cooler, as if it was a subtle reminder of summer’s finality and the weather that is just around the corner waiting for us. This actually suited me quite well, because even though I enjoy a hot summer day as much as the next person, a cool day at the beach meant that I could relax in the sun without sweat pooling in my ass crack. 

If that paragraph sounds at all familiar, then clearly you have been to this blog before as you may recognize it from my last post from almost three months ago. I will often plagiarize myself when I’m finding it difficult to come up with new things to write. I would just repost what I wrote three months ago, but thankfully, things have changed just enough that I can rewrite the rest. 

See, this time around, a good few months since I wrote the first bit, as I was sitting on that same beach my mind not once wandered to anything Kevin related like it had before. I looked out at the people on their floaties and only thought of how much fun it would be to have a pizza shaped one like one of the teenagers out there had. When I was in the (fucking freezing) cold water and saw the boats out in the distance drive by I thought only of how cold I was going to be in a moment when the waves that those boats created hit me and splashed up over my tits, whose nipples already had the ability to cut glass. And when I looked at the yacht club, I still thought of how fucking ridiculous it is for there to be a yacht club at this beach, but I also thought about how nice it would be to own one of the pontoon boats (or as the fancy people here like to call them, yachts) that was parked in the marina. But not even once did my brain think of these things in relation to Kevin.

This is probably because this time, sitting next to me on my beach blanket was a beautiful, kind hearted, sweet, caring, funny, intelligent man who for whatever reason had decided he liked me enough to call me his girlfriend. I’m still a little fuzzy on why he likes me; he seems to not care so much about the baggage that I have definitely brought with me into this relationship, and in fact, he seems perfectly ok with helping me carry this baggage. So there I sat, on my beach blanket, in the warm sun with a cool breeze, next to this half naked man whose dark chocolate skin glistened with sweat and lake water in the sun rays. We talked, he told me about his family back home, we swam, I froze, we snacked and relaxed and he even got mistaken for a football player (because apparently, in Lakeview, if you are black, you of course are a football player, so between this and the ridiculous “Yacht Club”, I see how cartoonish the place I live in is). 

We met at the beginning of August. It wasn’t in anyway an earth shattering exchange really. He messaged me online, and seemed far more normal than most guys that had been lately. Our first date was simple, we met at a Boston Pizza, which for those of you who are unfamiliar, is the sit-down restaurant equivalent of a McDonald’s in that there are no less than three of these restaurants in any given city, at least in my province anyways. We chatted, got to know one another, and then said our goodbyes and that was it. We met up a few more times, and had been seeing eachother every couple of days before we decided to be exclusive, and that seems to be that. 

It’s not that this new boyfriend has made me forget or not care about the past. I would never naively believe that that would ever be the case. I still think about Kevin from time to time, against my best attempts not to. And I still absentmindedly bring him up in conversation, in a “well when Kevin and I lived together…” or “when Kevin and I were booking our trip to Cuba…” kind of way. He was a huge part of my life for a while there, so while I try to do my best to suppress the Kevin-ing, it tends to raise its ugly head from time to time.

Things are thankfully getting better. I’m glad I found this new man, and hope things will work between us. So far our biggest issue is that we want to spend more time together and are finding it hard to balance our lives in a way that we can see each other several times a week, so I’m taking that to be a good sign. 
I guess only time will tell. All I can do is hope the best, work for what I want and bundle the fuck up, because that summer beach day has long since gone, the leaves are already half off the trees here, and winter is definitely closer than I’d like to believe it is. Fuck. Wish me luck. On all those things.


Basket Case

Well hello long lost blueberries.  It’s been far too long.  I had good reason for it though.  I went a little nuts.  Well, not actually, but it sure felt like I did.  In reality, what I was really busy with was various work things, and my new boyfriend.  If you follow me on Twitter you already knew this information about the new boyfriend (if you don’t follow me on the Twitter machine how in the fucking hell did you find me here?!?) If you somehow don’t follow me, I have some interesting news for you: I have a new boyfriend.  And not an imaginary one, nor am I jumping the gun and assuming a relationship exists with someone who doesn’t feel the same.  We both know and agree that we are in a relationship with one another. However if you follow me on Twitter, you’d also know that even though I’m back in a relationship, it certainly doesn’t mean that I’m any more confident in this one than I was in the last one.  In fact, in the 7 months that I have been single, I seem to have forgotten all that I once knew about the whole being someone’s girlfriend thing.

But before I get into the whole “I suck at dating thing” I will tell you about the guy first.  His name is Mark.  He’s 34, will be 35 later this year.  He’s a flight attendant who flies all over Canada, and to the States on occasion. He is cute as hell, he makes me laugh, he says what he thinks, he’s a total goof ball, and he’s a complete sweet heart.  He wants to get married and have kids.  In essence, he’s pretty much everything I am looking for.  We met at the end of April, and right away I liked him.  After our second date I knew I wanted to be his girlfriend.  And that was before we had even kissed. It didn’t take him long to get to that same conclusion too.  About 2 days after our second date, I got a text from him asking me if I’d be his girlfriend.  Now, I know that you judgmental fuckers out there are probably thinking, “What the hell? He asked via text?!” to which I will tell you that he was out of the country at the time, and couldn’t wait to see me in person to ask me.  If you ask me that is cute as hell.

I, of course said yes.  I liked the guy, and who the hell was I to turn down an offer like that from a good guy I actually liked?  However, because I’m still me, panic immediately set in.  It was too fast.  We didn’t really know each other.  I jumped into things just as fast with Kevin and look where that got me. And I hadn’t even kissed him yet, let alone anything else. What if we didn’t have any sexual chemistry?  In a matter of 5 minutes, I went from being downright giddy that I had gotten myself an awesome new boyfriend, to being a panicked mess, wondering if I had made a huge mistake. But then I saw him later that week, and remembered why I said yes to dating him in the first place. Never mind the fact that the kisses turned out to be pretty damn good and I had nothing to worry about in the sexual chemistry department.  We have sexual chemistry in spades.  And it was so nice to wake up next to him.  I forgot how much I missed that part of it.

I wish I could say that all that was the end of the freak out, but what I didn’t realize at the time was that it was actually only the beginning of the freaking out.  Why you ask?  Well, because of his job.  Now, as I mentioned earlier, he is a flight attendant.  This means that he flies all over the place for his work.  He technically lives in Lakeview, and has lived there his whole life, but the airport that he is based out of is in another city, about 750ish kilometers away in another province.  Because of this, he doesn’t get back to Lakeview very often. In the 6 weeks or so since our first date, I have seen him a whopping 4 times.  Remind you guys of anyone?  Cause I know it sure reminds me of someone.  Someone by the name of Kevin.  Thus, the panic attacks.

Of all the things that have been super hard about coming to terms with my break up with Kevin, the hardest is remembering that what happened with him will not be what happens with every man, and that I need to drop what is left of that baggage if I ever want things to work out with someone else. Sure, this situation may be eerily similar to the situation with Kevin, but it isn’t the same. They are two very different men.  I’m just having a harder time with it because these first few weeks with Mark have been a lot like the last few weeks with Kevin were.  That is an awfully dreadful situation to start a relationship in, and the root of that problem is that I hadn’t come to terms with the issues left behind from Kevin.  Fucking figures that I’d be single for 7 months without actually dealing with the baggage I had.  Leave it to me to bring all that shit into this new relationship, using it as a reason to maybe not be with Mark.

Luckily, I didn’t jump the gun on anything.  After talking things out with Lucy and Annie (thanks ladies BTW) and escaping the city for a weekend to my brother’s cabin at the lake to snuggle my niece, chat the days away with my sister-in-law and get my drink and hot tubbing on, I came to the conclusion that I can’t end the relationship just because it feels so similar to life with Kevin. Ending a new relationship because of what happened in the old one is bat shit crazy. Mark and I are going to have a different relationship one way or another, because Mark is a much different man. And yes, I’m still me, but my relationship with Kevin, and the breakup of that relationship changed me in a way I can’t really explain.  For better or for worse I am different now, so I need to give this thing between Mark and me its due, even if it turns out in the long run to be doomed.   And who knows, maybe in the long run we’ll not only be able to survive a long distance relationship, but will be that rare instance where it’s been built on it.

I guess only time will tell.  In the meantime, I’m sure you guys will get some interesting tweets and posts out of me while I continue to lose my shit and find my way.

Consider yourselves warned.




Airplane Goodbyes

Annnnnnnnd…..I’m back. Yup, there is nothing quite like an unexplained, unneeded, 2 and a half month hiatus from writing. It’s not that there haven’t been things I could have written about, I just haven’t really wanted to. As you can tell, writing clearly hasn’t been my top priority. But I’m back (for today anyways) to give you all a little Olivia before I inevitably take another long ass break. You are welcome. Also, you look well. These last few months have been good to you.

So, where was I when we last had time together? Ah yes, I was talking about my family and my brother’s upcoming wedding. For those wondering, the wedding was beautiful, I had lots of fun, and got slobbering drunk with some of my favorite family members. I will always be #blessed to have the delightful memory of my dad (who rarely drinks) being so shitfaced that he not only became an impromptu auctioneer and magician but also performed a very entertaining sloppy dance to Gangnam Style with 5 of my uncles. I am cut from a very interesting cloth, to say the least.

In my time away, I also turned 30. Wow, right? I know what you are all thinking. “Holy fuck, she actually had a birthday – and a big one for that matter – without making a huge fucking spectacle of it. I’m shocked.” Don’t worry, I am just as surprised by it as you are. 30 came and went pretty quietly. I had a low key BBQ with a couple friends and some family. Nothing too crazy and I was perfectly fine with that. Perhaps I’m starting to mellow in my old age.

These days I am relaxing my ass off, trying to enjoy my summer off. One of the beautiful benefits of working in a school is being on the school schedule. Having the opportunity to have the summer off is quite nice. For the most part. The catch to this summer is that I will be a single girl for most of it.

No, no, Kevin and I didn’t break up. Trust me, if that happened, there would be much more darkness to this post. It’s Kevin’s job this summer that has made me a lone wolf this summer, and so far – ridiculously bored. Kevin’s job has always kept him on the road for a decent amount of time since long before I met him. I knew full well what I was getting myself into before we started dating, and I was (and to an extent, still am) ok with that fact. I just didn’t know how fucking hard it would be sometimes. Hat’s off to those of you out there who have done or are doing the long-term, long distance thing. I don’t know how people do this for so long. He has only been gone for 3 weeks, and I’m going a bit nuts.

Usually he’s only ever a few hundred kilometres/miles away from home. Usually he’s easily within driving distance, so if I really wanted to, I could go see him for a day or a weekend. Usually he’s in a town or city with decent enough cell reception, or at the very least he’d be staying in a hotel or motel with a land line (remember those?!) so I could talk to him on the phone most nights. Sometimes he’d even get the luxury of unlimited Wi-fi so we could at least send unlimited iMessage sweet nothings (sexts) into one another’s iPhones.

Not this time.

In the last couple of months his job has changed, which means that for the summer at least (and from the sounds of it into the fall and winter if he wants) he is located way up in Northern Canada (we’re talking flying reindeer and elves up North), approximately 2500 kilometres (or approx 1550 ish miles for my imperial friends) away from me. He’s not accessible by car and even if he were it would roughly be a 24 hour drive (according to Google Maps) to get there. He’s living in communal living quarters where he has to share a dozen landlines with the other 300 or so people who also work at the same site. This means that I only get to talk to him 2 or 3 times a week if i’m lucky, because the phones as you can imagine are often busy, and there is no cell service to be had. He does have Wi-fi, but it is limited to only a couple hundred megabytes a day, and it can be fairly patchy at times, which means that Facebook messenger is our primary method of communication. And if you’ve ever used the Facebook messenger, you get how unfortunate that is (holy fuck, #firstworldproblems amirite?)

Mostly I just miss him here with me. Maybe if I was still at work, or had other stuff to preoccupy my time that the time he’s away would go by more quickly. I’ve already taken up knitting, what the hell else am I supposed to do? My mom suggested cross stitching and I almost went along with that. Then I realized that I’m only 30, not 60, and wisely decided against it. I need hobbies that get me out of the house, not another hobby that will cloister me in the house even more than I already am.

Luckily for me, Kevin is back in 3 days, and by the time you all read this, he will be home, and in my arms. And even though I am so excited to see him, I’m already dreading being back at the airport in 9 or 10 days to say goodbye again. Tearful airplane goodbyes are not just for Hollywood, but also for my emotional basket cased ass. You all should be proud of me though. When I dropped Kevin off the first time 3 weeks ago, I didn’t cry till I got to the car. That’s strength I tells ya.

For now I am slowly counting down the hours till he’s home and busy keeping my mind on other things, like Netflix and old episodes of Criminal Minds, which by the way I am in love with, but holy fuck that show is not good to watch when you are alone. I check to make sure the security alarm is turned on at least 3 times before I go bed every night as well as checking all the windows and doors to make damn sure they are locked tight. I have this paranoid feeling like someone is going to break into the house and murder me. So much that I’m seriously thinking about getting a giant dog just to keep me safe while Kevin is gone. See? This is what I was talking about when I said I was going nuts. I meant it.

Well folks, I know that you missed me so much that you wish I didn’t ever have to say goodbye again, but it’s time for me to find something to do. I promise that I will at least try to be back here again soon, but if I disappear into the world wide abyss again, have a good summer!


Cold December Night

Well hello all my beautiful blueberries! It’s been awhile since we’ve been together, and I must say, the time apart has been good to you all, you all look lovely. And cold. Most of you look cold. Winter, am I right? (Also, no one asked you Australia, you opposite season, warm in December jerks who won’t share the warmth with North America. It’s downright rude if you ask me.)

Anyways, enough with being mean to my awesomely accented long distance neighbors to the south. The end of 2014 is almost upon us (the end is even closer to those Australians I was talking about.) I know I say this every year, but I can’t believe how fast this year has flown by. Feeling like your years are constantly getting shorter and happening faster, and getting excited over new appliances are two main ways to tell that you are a full-fledged adult, and you are getting old, by the way, in case you were wondering.

Although 2014 seemed to disappear in a flash, it has been by far one of the best years of my adult life. Sure, it hasn’t all been awesome, after all, my grandpa passed away in the spring, I lost a dear friend this year, not due to death, but due to circumstances in which I was an innocent bystander who got hit by the shrapnel of an exploding marriage, where all mutual friends such as myself had to pick sides. I have struggled with money most of the year, over the summer I nannied for 3 of the most challenging children I’ve ever met in my life and my beloved Riders had a completely mediocre season after our star quarterback got injured in September and we didn’t make it past the first playoff game. Meanwhile, the team I loathe the most was the one who got to hoist the Championship cup above their heads. The football stuff alone is enough to make me cry (although that isn’t saying much. I cry over pretty much everything).

But all that is really small potatoes compared to all the good this year has brought. My family is happy and healthy (including one of my favorite uncles, who is kicking cancers ass!! Yay!!) I’m doing well at my job and I thoroughly enjoy coming to work every day and on top of that I make slightly bigger money than I was last year at my last workplace. I’m even starting to warm up to Lakeview, enough in fact that I might even possibly be teetering towards liking it. The snow removal seems to be better this year, which may have something to do with my newfound warmth towards the city. Mind you, it’s only the beginning of December, so ask me how I feel about this place (and its snow removal) again at the end of January and I might be singing a different tune. And of course, the biggest reason why this year has been so fantastic, is that I have found a wonderful man who actually loves me, and isn’t imaginary.

Remember back in 2013 when all I wrote about were the CMs, the Hardwood Floors, and the Tittysprinkles of the world, miserably going from one loser to the next waiting to not find my prince, but just looking for someone who wasn’t a complete bag of dicks that I could date for more than a month? I know I sure do. I don’t miss that, the never ending uncertainty of dating and being alone. This so much better. I’m happier than I’ve ever been. Kevin makes me happy. And to those of you who were wondering, so far the living together has been good. Although, I will give you one piece of solid advice if you are looking to move in with a significant other: Buy pre-built furniture. It may be more expensive, but let me assure you that the extra cost is definitely worth the stress-free set-up. Or, you can be like me. Frustrated, yelling at a screw that just won’t fucking twist itself into its tiny little screw hole because the drill was turned to the reverse setting, by accident. Well fuck you too 11pm on a work night after a long ass day, fuck you.

Luckily, our relationship has not been like I am when I’m building stuff. Not that our relationship has been perfect. This year I’ve been a bigger basket case than I’ve ever been. Being in a relationship has managed to drag out all of my insecurities (and of those there are many) and has left me to worry about every little thing under the sun. I’ve constantly been worried that this year was going too well, and that surely the rug would be pulled out from under me, and I would be right back where I did not want to be; alone and unhappy, still looking for “the one” even though I could have sworn that I had already found him.

I still worry about that. Does it ever go away after a certain point? Maybe I’m still too new at the relationship thing to be completely logical about it all, but I’d really like it if my brain would just shut the fuck up already, and let me lose all the insecurities that have been holding me back. Or worse yet, let my insecurities push people away. I need to just relax.

Maybe if I relaxed a bit more, I’d have more time and energy to panic about other things. Like Christmas. Oh yeah. It’s December. It’s time for my January to November worries to dissolve into a 25 day (now it’s a 22 day, fuck me) stress filled Christmas season. Christmas is a huge source of stress for me. This is the first year that I’ve had to carefully and strategically plan the family gatherings for Christmas. Christmas Day has always been split down the middle between parents, and every year we have done the same thing, like clockwork so that everyone got equal time with everybody. That’s just what my life with divorced parents was like. So adding another family to the mix has caused me some anxiety. Christmas is by far my favorite holiday because of the family time, but there just aren’t enough hours in the day, so someone somewhere gets knocked down to last place on the priority list. I hate not being able to make everyone happy. And for me, while this isn’t the first Christmas with a boyfriend, it’s the first Christmas where I have had a boyfriend who wants to be with me for the holidays, and is also very concerned with making everyone (especially me) happy.

Luckily both mine and Kevin’s families have been flexible so that we will hopefully be able to spend good quality time with everyone and make it work, but it’s a change, and the first year in all my 29 years where my Christmas routine is different, and I’m trying not to panic about it. I don’t do change very well.

In-between panic attacks, I have to remember that this year is the perfect year to make new traditions. For instance, I’m trying to make it a tradition that all my Christmas shopping gets finished by American Thanksgiving, so that I can avoid Black Friday and all other mall/store Christmas shopping madness at all costs. I did not succeed at that this year, but I only have my step-mom left to shop for, so I’m considering this a total win! Another tradition I’ve always had by myself is watching all my favorite Christmas movies. But this year, Kevin is watching Elf with me, whether he likes it or not!

Now all I need to do is to calm the fuck down. So, since I have such troubles with that, I came up with a great list of ways to help me calm the fuck down. If you have any suggestions to add, please tweet them to me, or comment below (nobody ever comments…)

Ways For Olivia to CTFD Over the Holidays, and Forever After That

1. Unfriend everyone on Facebook who posts more than 3 pictures of their motherfucking Elf on a Shelf. Do what you want with your kids for the holidays, I don’t care, but I don’t want to see my newsfeed with 20 pictures of everybody’s Elf having a tea party every day. My Facebook should not be an Elf on a Shelf advent calendar during the month of December. Parents, I know you love your kids, but I sure as hell don’t have to. Pipe the fuck down over there.

2. Speaking of social media, unfollow anybody who uses #blessed in their posts, un-ironically or un-sarcastically. It’s overdone and because of this, the word has lost some of the meaning behind it. Sure, you have wonderful things in your life like friends and family, and it’s wonderful that you are grateful for these things and to have them certainly does make you #blessed, but when you say that you are also #blessed because the barista at Starbucks put the perfect amount of whipped cream on your latte, it trivializes the meaning, and makes me wonder if you really understand what it means to really be #blessed by good fortune in this world.

3. Actually, come to think of it, just quit social media altogether. It needs you more than you need it. Or at least that’s what you need to tell yourself when you are going through severe withdrawals. (I can just log in once. And I can log out whenever I want.)

4. Watch awesome Christmas movies and quote them at random throughout the day even if the situation doesn’t call for it. Just cause its fun. “BYE BUDDY, I HOPE YOU FIND YOUR DAD!”

5. Bubble baths with good smelling bubble stuffs, while watching your favorite show or movie. Actually, I use this method to CTFD all year long, but I up my dosage around the holidays. Helpful hint: adding wine to this package makes you seem sexy and classy, even if the wine comes from a bag, or a box.

6. Add booze! Any booze! All booze! Just don’t ever throw up in a communal punch bowl and you will be golden!

7. Sex. Lots of sex. All the sex. Just don’t ever fuck on or near the communal punch bowl and you will be golden!

I think I am nailing the whole Christmas thing this year! Well blueberries, it is time for me to sign off. I wish you all a very happy December (because we all know that it’s unlikely that I will be back for another post in 2014), and I hope to see more of you in 2015! Play safe; drink and fuck responsibly!


Here's some holiday spirit for you. This is our Charlie Brown Christmas Tree. I know you're all jealous, don't lie.

Here’s some holiday spirit for you. This is our Charlie Brown Christmas Tree. I know you’re all jealous, don’t lie.