I haven't posted in a while. Work, kids, dating, the house...they are all commanding my attention these days. Not complaining! Kids and I are rocking and rolling along. Sports, end of school year, etc..no complaints.
The other day the kids ate dinner with their dad. They came back and said Mooch is dating. I asked who? They gave me women's names. Whew. A couple of friends had seen him on Match the other week...
My other sources have told me Mooch has been seen with men.
I'm confused. Well, actually, he sounds confused.
It confirms a lot of things I thought over the years. Each time I confronted, I got the big NO WAY! I'm not gay! Ugh...that much homophobia always made me wonder.
I'm not opposed to bi or gay, but it's not what I signed up for when I got married. Very glad I don't have to deal with that anymore.
The fact none of it really gets to me shows I'm moving past the bitterness and the frustration of him being so exhausting to be around. My boyfriend does make jabs here and there about him. He is amazed I agreed to marry someone who is obviously looking for a free ride. It doesn't piss me off. The man speaks the truth.
Hopefully, one of these women (or men) can be the one to take care of him. Lord knows he needs the help. It's tough napping all day.
Tuesday, May 27, 2014
Thursday, April 10, 2014
Do You Remember the Show Scrubs?
I love that show.
My mind kind of works that way. Someone says something and an instant daydream begins. It could be a short Broadway musical or someone catching on fire (that happens when someone talks too much on a conference call).
I was thinking the other day how Mooch was never really connected to us. He was always a million miles away, zoning about something. I'm sure most of the time he was thinking about porn or thinking about having sex with someone else. (More on that soon.)
So my Scrubs scene goes like this:
These words are going through Mooch's mind while we were supposed to be reciting the Apostles' Creed at the Presbyterian Church on Sundays or saying the Pledge of Allegiance at a football game:
"I like big butts and I cannot lie
You other brothers can't deny
That when a girl walks in with an itty bitty waist
And a round thing in your face
You get sprung, wanna pull out your tough
'Cause you notice that butt was stuffed
Deep in the jeans she's wearing
I'm hooked and I can't stop staring
Oh baby, I wanna get with you
And take your picture
My homeboys tried to warn me
But that butt you got makes me so horny"
(have to credit Sir Mix a Lot's "Baby's Got Back")
Sigh.
-Stella
My mind kind of works that way. Someone says something and an instant daydream begins. It could be a short Broadway musical or someone catching on fire (that happens when someone talks too much on a conference call).
I was thinking the other day how Mooch was never really connected to us. He was always a million miles away, zoning about something. I'm sure most of the time he was thinking about porn or thinking about having sex with someone else. (More on that soon.)
So my Scrubs scene goes like this:
These words are going through Mooch's mind while we were supposed to be reciting the Apostles' Creed at the Presbyterian Church on Sundays or saying the Pledge of Allegiance at a football game:
"I like big butts and I cannot lie
You other brothers can't deny
That when a girl walks in with an itty bitty waist
And a round thing in your face
You get sprung, wanna pull out your tough
'Cause you notice that butt was stuffed
Deep in the jeans she's wearing
I'm hooked and I can't stop staring
Oh baby, I wanna get with you
And take your picture
My homeboys tried to warn me
But that butt you got makes me so horny"
(have to credit Sir Mix a Lot's "Baby's Got Back")
Sigh.
-Stella
Believe Them the First Time They Tell You
Mooch told me he had a problem with porn when we were in grad school. I thought, no way, I don't see any porn. He is just a great guy feeling a little guilty.
Two-three years in our marriage he said it again. In fact, he told me he told the pastor who married us he had a problem and the pastor said pay attention to your wife, not Internet porn. Again, I thought wow he wants to be a great husband and is confessing looking at people having sex once in a while.
Dumbass. That is what I call my 22 and 27 year old self. He was telling you he had issues. Maybe deep down he was hoping you would walk away.
Age 32. Laptop will not work. I take it to my techy friend. Um, GIGs of porn on your machine. I asked Mooch. Oh, my brother used it when he was visiting the other week. That has to be it.
32 year old self. Run. He is an ADDICT. He is not looking up stats online for the football game when he cannot sleep. And the no sex drive? It isn't the meds. It is the porn. You don't do it for him because the computer does. Get the hell out.
But no. Two babies. Three dogs. A new house. Life will be ok. Just keep plugging. And never tell your friends your husband won't touch you. One day if he dies before you, maybe someone will love you the way you should be loved. Maybe. Or maybe this is as good as it gets.
Friends, when they tell you the first time. Listen. To them. And especially to yourself. You are brilliant. And you will survive no matter what. Process and assess. This is YOUR life.
-Stella
Wednesday, April 9, 2014
Why This Pic?
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Why this pic? Before Mooch left this floor in my bathroom would have been piled waist high with crap he would step over for days....less clutter...very liberating! |
Hey, Will You Go Get My Meds?
Mooch is on a lot of meds. At least he was when he lived here.
Antidepressants. ADHD meds (no H with him, barely had a pulse but the pills are all or nothing I guess). Blood pressure pills. The works. Anything to make him "better". Anything to make him "want to work".
I'm self-employed and pretty busy. Every 30-31 days, Mooch would call in tears from the office.
"I, I, I ran out of my meds. I have a meeting later, my head is killing me, I can't work, will you go get my meds?"
What the hell was I supposed to do? Have him lose his job because he didn't have his pills? Anyone on these meds knows you can't stop and start them. Every. Damn. Day people. Just like Birth Control pills.
So, I would stop what I was doing or would re-arrange a meeting. Make sure the primary care doctor had a new Rx written for the controlled substances, drive to the doctor's office, sign for the Rx, drive to CVS, wait on the Rx, buy a drink for him sometimes, call him, meet him at the curb of the plant, hand him his pills and the drink. I would get a "thank you, whew that was rough. I'll write down when I need to call that in next month."
30-31 days later, here we go again. Oh wait, sometimes 35 days. He liked to skip pills on the weekend and stay in bed. Productive father of two.
This went on 2-3 years. One day, he called, same routine.
This time I said no. He said, what? But I need it. No more, Mooch. You are a big boy. Figure out to function on your own. Several weeks later, I told him he had a month to move out.
Damn. That felt great. :)
-Stella
Antidepressants. ADHD meds (no H with him, barely had a pulse but the pills are all or nothing I guess). Blood pressure pills. The works. Anything to make him "better". Anything to make him "want to work".
I'm self-employed and pretty busy. Every 30-31 days, Mooch would call in tears from the office.
"I, I, I ran out of my meds. I have a meeting later, my head is killing me, I can't work, will you go get my meds?"
What the hell was I supposed to do? Have him lose his job because he didn't have his pills? Anyone on these meds knows you can't stop and start them. Every. Damn. Day people. Just like Birth Control pills.
So, I would stop what I was doing or would re-arrange a meeting. Make sure the primary care doctor had a new Rx written for the controlled substances, drive to the doctor's office, sign for the Rx, drive to CVS, wait on the Rx, buy a drink for him sometimes, call him, meet him at the curb of the plant, hand him his pills and the drink. I would get a "thank you, whew that was rough. I'll write down when I need to call that in next month."
30-31 days later, here we go again. Oh wait, sometimes 35 days. He liked to skip pills on the weekend and stay in bed. Productive father of two.
This went on 2-3 years. One day, he called, same routine.
This time I said no. He said, what? But I need it. No more, Mooch. You are a big boy. Figure out to function on your own. Several weeks later, I told him he had a month to move out.
Damn. That felt great. :)
-Stella
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
Is Your Mooch a Narcissist?
The Huffington Post's story on how to tell if you are with a narcissist hit home. Hard.
The article described my marriage. To a tee.
I saw pictures of my house during my marriage. Shit piled everywhere. I'm a single mother now and there is less housework and less shit piled up all over the place.
I had to do it all with an extra person here before. Mooch didn't lift a finger. "I'll do better" he would say.
"I'm just really stressed with work. Can you help me figure out how to do this project for work?" (Of course, I want you to keep your job.)
"How was your day? Oh, you didn't say anything right away. Why won't you tell me anything?" (Because you aren't really listening, Mooch.)
"In college, I quit my fraternity at the last minute before initiation." (No, you were blackballed.)
Ladies, if you are pulling all of the weight, making all of the decisions, wondering why you are feeling "What has he done for me lately? Why are actions not matching words spoken?"....then get out. You've landed yourself a narcissist. And narcissists only can love themselves. You may feel stupid for being fooled, but at least you can get a fresh start...and do a lot of soul searching to make sure you don't attract another one....
Stella
The article described my marriage. To a tee.
I saw pictures of my house during my marriage. Shit piled everywhere. I'm a single mother now and there is less housework and less shit piled up all over the place.
I had to do it all with an extra person here before. Mooch didn't lift a finger. "I'll do better" he would say.
"I'm just really stressed with work. Can you help me figure out how to do this project for work?" (Of course, I want you to keep your job.)
"How was your day? Oh, you didn't say anything right away. Why won't you tell me anything?" (Because you aren't really listening, Mooch.)
"In college, I quit my fraternity at the last minute before initiation." (No, you were blackballed.)
Ladies, if you are pulling all of the weight, making all of the decisions, wondering why you are feeling "What has he done for me lately? Why are actions not matching words spoken?"....then get out. You've landed yourself a narcissist. And narcissists only can love themselves. You may feel stupid for being fooled, but at least you can get a fresh start...and do a lot of soul searching to make sure you don't attract another one....
Stella
Monday, April 7, 2014
To All the Single Ladies...
Beware of the Mooch.
Moochy men don't come across that way at first.
So you have to be extra careful.
If you are a giver, not a selfish lady, you are a target for a mooch. This doesn't mean you are stupid.
Ladies, you need a partner, not a mooch. You don't need to be the decision maker, the total breadwinner, and the planner. Mooches love to stay in bed while you are up fretting packing for a trip or planning your honeymoon by yourself.
Mooches are not total deadbeats. I'm taking about the guys who make you feel they need your opinion/guidance for every decision and are agreeable just so you feel like you are the woman with a plan and expertise at all times. It makes women who are "givers" a thrill. Until you run out of gas...emotionally.
Moochy men don't come across that way at first.
So you have to be extra careful.
If you are a giver, not a selfish lady, you are a target for a mooch. This doesn't mean you are stupid.
Ladies, you need a partner, not a mooch. You don't need to be the decision maker, the total breadwinner, and the planner. Mooches love to stay in bed while you are up fretting packing for a trip or planning your honeymoon by yourself.
Mooches are not total deadbeats. I'm taking about the guys who make you feel they need your opinion/guidance for every decision and are agreeable just so you feel like you are the woman with a plan and expertise at all times. It makes women who are "givers" a thrill. Until you run out of gas...emotionally.
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