Month: August 2010

Happily Ever After, My Ass

This post isn’t really about my ass. It’s not even about me. It’s about my friends and clients and friends who are also clients.

A couple posts ago I talked about the pregnant people driving me nuts. One of those people is a friend of mine in real life who is also a friend on facebook. The other day she posted something about how she couldn’t wait til her husband gets home because he’s such a great guy and something about how he’s so wonderful that even a moment away feels like an eternity. I almost puked because, uh, I was so happy for her. Or something. My initial unkind reaction was, “What are you, like 15? Grow up already.”

However, recent events have made me realize that when it comes to…this stuff…we never grow up. We’re always obnoxious twitterpated teenagers. My 60-year-old friend would not shut up the other day about her new boyfriend; I felt like I was hanging out with a giddy 16-year-old. Another friend of mine, in his early 50s, took a call from his “lady friend” last week and I just wanted to hit him because he was grinning like a fool the whole time. “If they ask where you’re going, just tell them you’re going to a friend’s house,” he was telling her. What, are you seventeen and sneaking out?

Some of you might be thinking, “Aw, but that’s sweet.” Okay, whatever, it might be sweet in a weird puketastic way, but to me it’s a sign of something much worse. If we never grow up when it comes to this mushy crap, it also means we never grow up when it comes to the relationship drama either. I didn’t even realize I held this belief until recently, but somewhere deep down I always thought it got easier when you got older. I don’t know why I thought that, but I did. That maybe once you grew up, you were over the silliness and acted normal and kind of boring but in a good way.


A client just the other night was complaining how his wife is batshit crazy right now because she’s on some weird hormone diet. Another client I hadn’t seen in about a year was making references to trying to patch up his home life–which was in shambles the last time I saw him. Really? You’ve been “working on your home life” for a year and…no progress? One of my friends is filing for divorce against a woman he’s been married to for over 20 years; he told me, “Throughout our entire marriage, I think we had maybe one good year?” His wife is trying to make him take her back and I have no idea why-in all the years I’ve known them she’s never said one good word about him. (And believe me, she’s said lots of very not-good words.) Why fight so hard to stay married to someone you don’t even like? Why did they get married in the first place? Why are people so crazy?!

I have one client, in her mid-40s but doesn’t look it, cutest, sweetest gal you’ve ever seen. Last time she was in, we were talking about relationships (my clients talk about pets and relationships and that’s about it) and she said, “I can’t see myself ever getting married again. Men are just such jerks.”

Men are jerks. Women are crazy.

…And no matter how old you get, it never gets any better. So good luck.


Blind Leading the Blind

Some of you already know this, but I have a dog. A blind chihuahua. He is my baby.

After a cat scratch when he was about 1 that went misdiagnosed for a while, he had to have expensive eye surgery that resulted in removing the infected eyeball and replacing it with a silicon implant. Then, when he was 5, a different cat scratched his other eye and he had even more expensive surgery that was supposed to save his vision. It didn’t but he was alive and relatively well and he fetches and gets around and only bumps into things sometimes.

The “natural” eyeball went through a series of changes. It was foggy gray, then seemed to clear up a bit and I had hope maybe he would see again one day.

However, last night I looked at him and his eye is completely clouded. His fake eye looks more real than his real eye. But what really concerns me is that his real eye…has shrunk. Like I said, he got his implant when he was one; that implanted eye is way larger than his natural eye. I think his eye is dying. Shriveling up. I feel like I should call the dog eye doctor and make an appointment for the next time he’s in Montana (making it a 3 hour drive to see the doctor instead of 7) but a big part of me is afraid to hear what he’s going to say.

The surgery that was supposed to “fix” his eye in the first place was $3,000. The first surgery that resulted in the implant was $1,000. And while I am very, very broke, this isn’t even a money issue…what if they can’t even do an implant? What if they have no choice but to take it out and stitch it up and leave him ugly? What if it’s a sign of something else entirely? What if, by being in denial and hoping he’d get better, I’ve already waited too long and nothing can be done?

Last night I couldn’t decide what to do. He’s already been through so much I hate to put him through more stress and trauma if it’s not absolutely necessary. His last eye surgery, he almost died; he wouldn’t wake up from the anesthetic. I don’t want either of us to go through that again. But after reading this post today, I realize I owe it to him to make up my mind and do something.

Madame Ovary

Every few years, it seems I’m surrounded by pregnant people. This is one of those years, apparently.

Pregnancy has always kind of weirded me out. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted children–I love kids, but I don’t love them 24/7. Marriage terrifies me.

But I’m currently inundated with pregnant women. And they’re so happy.

Don’t get me wrong; I’m glad they’re happy. They should want to be pregnant and want to have a baby and this is a big deal and I’m “happy that they’re happy” so to speak. What I don’t get is why they’re happy. Are they happy because truly, this is what they’ve always wanted? Are they happy because they were told this is what they should want? If my mom had told me life was about men and babies instead of telling me life was so much more than that, would I be content with a man and baby? Or would I have thought she was nuts? Or would I have tried it and realized too late she was wrong?

I’ve come to accept that for a lot of women, this is truly a life they want and I try to respect their point of view. I’m all about doing what makes you happy. However, I wish they’d give me the same consideration. I am not less or incomplete or androgynous because I’ve chosen a path different from theirs.