You can't teach me any new tricks

  My boyfriend tried to teach me how to use chopsticks today. There was much cursing and fumbling. It probably looked like Annie Sullivan teaching Helen Keller. Never one to learn new things, I resorted to using a fork. If I had to eat every meal with chopsticks, I would lose a ton of weight. The food would never reach my mouth. I could create a new diet craze. It made me laugh to think of some of the things exes have tried to teach me.
  One boyfriend tried to teach me how to box. Boy, was that a failure. He wrapped my hands, put gloves on me, tried to teach me the stance. After about an hour, he gave up. I was so uncoordinated. Trying to keep my feet a certain way and move my arm another was just too much. He tried. God bless.
  Bob tried to teach me how to play guitar. I messed with it for about two weeks and gave up. I barely learned part of a Lisa Loeb song.
  Another boyfriend did successfully teach me how to knife fight. At times, it got a little hairy because he was also the most unstable of all my boyfriends. He told me to "really fight" him. The most important thing that I took away was to not watch the attackers eyes, but to watch their chest. Their eyes may go in a different direction than the way they would stab. However, they will instinctively turn their body the way that they will stab. This may save me if I ever go down a dark alley or serve time in prison.
  The same boyfriend that tried to teach me to box also tried to teach me chess and Rock Band. Neither of those went well. In fact, Rock Band went so disastrously that he yelled "This isn't even fun anymore!" I was just that awful at it. On my behalf, we always drank while we played.  My Tommy Lee days were short lived. If a drinker can't stand my drumming, no one can.
  My attention span is very short so I doubt I'll ever learn anything new. It's not that I'm not smart enough; I just lose interest. Inherently, I think we all want to teach others. It must be very frustrating for these poor men to try with me. I know from trying to teach myself things. I tried to learn one word of Russian while driving. I had a podcast that slowly taught one word per lesson. I ended up turning it off and listening to Joe Rogan instead. How does anyone have patience to learn? How did I ever learn anything in my life? I'm surprised I'm not a feral being, running around like a maniac. The discipline it takes for me to focus is intense. Even as I write this, I have to keep myself from checking things on my phone. The only thing I can fully commit to is sleep and that's abused to an extreme. I could become a pro at it. There could be a league of pro sleepers. I'd have to include the man I saw at the Chinese buffet who was wearing a robe and flip flops. He's living the lifestyle; I bet he can sleep like a pro.
  Sometimes, I think of doing meditation. What a joke. That lasts for about thirty seconds before I'm onto something else. If I can make it through a movie, that's an accomplishment. I'm still determined to learn all of the presidents in order. I'm up to eight. We'll see.

All roads lead to exes

  I was driving home from dinner with friends, when I drove through a neighborhood and thought "Oh, I went on a date with a boy from here." Is this how everyone learns their cities? I highly doubt it. It started with Patrick. I became very familiar with his area. Now, I only get close to it on detours when the Liberty Tunnels are closed. Shadyside was M.'s part of town. Bloomfield was home to NBF and boy of one date that looked like Jake Gyllenhaal. I'm familiar with South Hills, home to Herps and my current boyfriend. I once saw a sweet nighttime view of the city via the apartment window of a guy that looked too much like Jerry Seinfeld.
  It's not just various areas that remind me of exes. It can be a song or a smell. Patrick smelled great. Sometimes I'll smell someone wearing the same cologne. Or, I'll hear a funny podcast and think of him. By now, they're fond memories. Usually, when I see Brad Pitt, I think of Bob. But, then, I think of when I first started to suspect he was cheating when he bragged that a girl at work said he looked like Brad Pitt. Then, I dislike him and Brad Pitt. It starts to then snowball into guys that resemble Brad Pitt like Charlie Hunham. It's a big ball of lust and hate. When I watch Spongebob with Viggo, Squidward reminds me of NBF. He's kind of like the human version of him. One of those football Manning brothers looks a lot like M. There's a guy on Boardwalk Empire that's a dead ringer for Patrick. Any shaved head guy with glasses takes up about half of my dating list. There was an Italian guy that looked like that bastard son of David Tennant and a member of Franz Ferdinand. Herps looked like a really screwed up version of Robert Pattinson. You can see my constant torment.
  Sometimes it's a song. I had my first kiss with Vasily to Pablo Nutini. The song "Chasing Cars" by Snow Patrol had very sentimental value to Bob and I. It was probably one of the last times we spent together with genuine love felt between us. I once hit a raccoon while listening to Neko Case's song "Pharaohs". I know that's really random, but it still haunts me. If you're in a delicate state, any of these things can bring you to your knees. Seeing a poinsettia once made me sob uncontrollably because it reminded me of my Grandmother. I'm a sentimental idiot. Can't be helped. I often wonder what reminds these guys of me. Is it a smell or a song? Do they even think of me? If so, with fondness?

These guys are crawling out of the woodwork

  Today I read an article about quantum entanglement. There is a theory that because we all come from the same beginning (Big Bang) that we are connected to each other on a quantum level. This may explain why you might think of someone you haven't heard from in a long while and then suddenly they  contact you. I have a theory to throw into the mix- the- I got a boyfriend and previous men from my life can sense it- theory. In the past week, I've had five guys contact me from out of the blue when I haven't heard from them in forever. Where were these dopes when I was lonely?
  The first was Herps. He sends random texts inviting me to see his band. I always decline. The other night, I get one around 2 a.m. saying "Come sit on my face." I'm not even kidding. Now, let me establish that we have never had that kind of dialogue with each other at all. This is akin to a penis pic- totally unwarranted and offensive. I sincerely hope it was meant for someone else and he accidentally sent it to me. The best response seemed to be no response.
  Then, I hear from two guys that I had one date with each. They were alright dates. The one guy was closer to my age, and attractive. We had drinks and watched The Shooter starring Mark Wahlberg. The other guy took me to dinner and we later had drinks at an amazing champagne bar. But, no second dates were made. Each of them tried, but I was always busy. Maybe on purpose.
  Then, two guys I never even made first dates with contacted me. The one guy, I was supposed to see the Dark Knight Rises with, so that tells you how long ago that was. The doofus just texts me, wanting to get together. Really? Missed your chance, chump. Same for this other guy. We tried to make dates repeatedly. He was always a bit squirelly about it. He claimed he didn't text and we only communicated via email. I eventually told him I thought he was "catfishing" me and that he must be 300lbs. Who knows? Its' kind of infuriating. I went soooo long without anyone. So many lonely nights. Now, I'm bombarded by former connections. The universe is a cruel mistress. I just don't get it. It's as if they can sense that I've found a good man. And, shit, these guys don't even come close. It would be like comparing Tobey Maguire with Chris Hemsworth. My guy is super hot and the man of my dreams. He may screw up birthday planning, but he's awesome. I think Ryan Gosling could proposition me and I'd turn him down. Wait, I'm not sure about that one. Ryan Gosling is on another level from the rest of men. How about Michael Pitt? Yeah, that works. He's damn good-looking." Sorry,  Mr. Pitt, I have a man." Seriously, saying "Sorry, Mr. Gosling, I have a man" just isn't a statement anyone would ever say. But, I am head-over-heels for this guy. The world must be able to sense it.

Travels with Bob

  A co-worker of mine is going to Ireland in a few weeks. It brought back great memories for me of when I went there in 2003. Bob and I had been married for a little while and we had always wanted to go there. My grandfather's family was Irish. The Flemings are Scottish and the Griffith clan is Welsh. But, I think many people have a longing to visit what might be the most beautiful of the British Isles, as did we.
  This trip was anything but boring from the start. With my crazy luck and the believed curse of the Flemings, there was never a dull moment. It started in Pittsburgh with our plane tickets. The very first clerk we saw didn't process Bob's ticket correctly. From that point on, every plane stop we had to make, they declared Bob wasn't on the previous flight. It got really interesting when we were coming back from Ireland and they tried to tell me I'd have to fly back alone until they got his ticket cleared up. That wasn't happening. I've learned that airlines are really good at making mistakes and making you suffer for them. Luckily, we got home together. The funny part was, Bob was very angry about this and wearing a green military coat. This promptly got him pulled out of line and searched by security guard. I was having my own troubles understanding the man taking my ticket. Having never flown before, I was baffled by him asking if I packed my own bag. Not having a criminal mind, I didn't realize he was asking for the prevention of terrorism. As I contemplated this question, the stoic Irishman got less and less patient with me. Blondie finally figured it out and we somehow got out of Ireland.
  While we were there, we had the best time ever. We didn't have an itinerary, so we just drove wherever we pleased. I had a bit of trouble with the accents in Dublin and Bob had some with the accents in the countryside. At a bed and breakfast, the owner asked if we'd like salmon and scrambled eggs. I was surprised when Bob said "yes". As we're eating, he wondered why the eggs tasted different. I told him because of the salmon. "Salmon? There's no salmon". He didn't understand what the man asked. I laughed like crazy.
  Our main misadventures were on our night in Galway. The whole trip, we kept from drinking the water. We were smart enough to know that bacteria can plague you in foreign water, so we refrained. However, we quickly grew tired of Ireland's tiny Cokes. They're half the size of American ones. At our dinner in Galway, our waiter placed a pitcher of water on our table. Foolishly, we drank. Back at the bed & breakfast, Bob was beset by horrendous diarrhea. Being a jackass, I teased him for it. Karma was an awful mistress because, then I was hit by violent vomiting. We fought all night for time in the bathroom. I declared my situation worse since he left a lingering smell from his part of the illness, which made me puke more. The claim to fame of this bed and breakfast was that Chelsea Clinton once stayed there. After that, I'm sure it was the smell and sounds the two Americans projected from their room. To make matters worse, we had a forty-five minute ferry ride the next morning. Thankfully, we were much better by then.
  Overall, we had a great time. We saw some astounding sights like Newgrange and the Cliffs of Moher. These are forever in my mind. But, as Martha Gellhorn once stated about travels, no one wants to hear about your trips. They only want to hear the disaster stories. I'm glad we made the trip and I someday hope to return, this time with Viggo. I'll remember to not drink the water and to answer quickly that I've packed my own bags.
 

Jealousy

  We all have a reservoir of jealousy within us. Some more than others. I think mine is the size of the Pacific Ocean. But, after having been cheated on twice, I'm convinced it's more of wariness. "Who's this whore posting this comment on Facebook?" I say to myself. Everyone is under scrutiny. If I'm seeing someone, everyone that posts something on their page is getting investigated like I'm on the Warren Commission. 

  Men are different, though. Sometimes they are lacking in jealousy. Or maybe it's a sign they're going to cheat. Both of my exes who cheated were lacking in that territory. I had a male co-worker that I got along with very well. He joked that he would give my husband at the time a carton of cigarettes as a trade for me. Expecting outrage & indignation when I told him of this, I instead got what I thought was half- serious consideration. When I was seeing another guy, I got offered $9000 by a guy on Facebook for "ten minutes of my time." Once again, I was presented with indifference and disinterest in the whole situation. Where was the outrage and jealousy? I would've been hunting someone down with a raging fury if I were those guys. I remember my first boyfriend stepping up to the plate. A co-worker drove me home one night. We were hanging out at the apartment, shooting the shit. My boyfriend called & I told him this guy graciously offered to drive me home and was there. Next thing I know, my boyfriend is there, throwing the door open telling him he'd better leave. At the time, I was embarrassed. Now, I appreciate his actions. Plus, he was smart enough to know that guys usually have an agenda when they help a girl out. 

  The last guy I saw was the worst. Not a jealous bone in his body. He was all about wanting an open relationship. This was super confusing to me and almost started a bar fight. We went out one night with two good friends of mine that had come from WV to visit. We went to a bar and NBF (non boyfriend) joined us. Being in a bar, I proceeded to drink and subsequently flirt with a guy one table over. But, I thought it was kosher since I was in an "open" relationship. This guy was very drunk and rowdy. To the point that he sat in NBF's seat when he got up. I told him to leave, but he stayed like glue. NBF came back and told him to get out of his seat. Drunk guy says "What are you going to do, I'm trying to fuck your girlfriend?" Then, there were lots of puffed chests and angry words thrown about. We quickly left the bar, barely avoiding a fight. NBF wasn't fighting over my honor though. He felt he had been disrespected. Once again, I wasn't a coveted item. 

  I don't know how it will be for me in the future. I like a man to have some jealousy. I think he should like that men look at his woman, but not too long. I guess, to me, it's a sign that a guy cares. He's worried about a man trying to steal his woman. You're something that they care and worry about. Maybe it's a crazy philosophy. 

  Women carry it way too far, of course. I once had an ex help me out in an emergency situation. He couldn't get a hold of his girlfriend to tell her he was helping me out. "You never saw me today." were his words. I complied but thought it was completely fucked up. That's taking it a little far. I think there has to be an equally healthy dose of trust and jealousy to keep a relationship afloat. Don't go batshit because his female cousin writes on his Facebook wall & give a shit when someone gives your mate special attention. Especially if that special attention includes kisses and sex. You'd think people could be decent in a relationship, but they can't. I hold onto fidelity like the Queen does her crown, but I'm a lone wolf. I had three women tell me their husbands had left them this week at work. Just normal customers. It's sad. Sadly, for a lot of folks, there's always other fish in the sea. And, they feel they're the big fish. I'm using too many fish analogies. You get the point. People suck. Sleep with one eye open. Trust no one, etc. 

Stuff it in a sack, Facebook

In Elle magazine, there is an excellent article on Sonic Youth's Kim Gordon. Apparently, her over 20 year relationship with Thurston Moore ended when she found out he was cheating on her when she checked his texts. Sound familiar? I was floored by this. Kim Gordon is one of my idols. In my top five of coolest women on the planet. This happened to her, too?! Who the hell could he find that's cooler than her? Oh, that's right, no one! What a jackass. Is every man lead by his dick?
I'm in this bizarre, new place where I've been making peace with the past. I've moved on & forgiven everyone in both of my horrendous cheating situations. I found that my main foe has now become Facebook. First, it's constantly suggesting that I might "know" my ex-husband's girlfriend in the friends update. Yeah, Facebook, I know her. I probably also know the kid who threw rocks at me in sixth grade. You can stop suggesting it to me everyday. I'm happy for Bob & her, but I don't want Facebook to suggest we become friends.
Friends- what I seem to have also become with another ex & his girlfriend. I've forgiven them, too & made my peace. She seems to be going the extra mile so that we can all be friends. I accepted her friend request. Which made me realize that he & I weren't friends there. So, I requested him only to be taken to our last page of conversation- Me "Kisses!" Him "Muah!" That was weird. And, it's weird to see pics of these guys all happy with theses girls. I do wish happiness for everyone because I'm a kind-hearted person. Maybe it's why I feel I've found happiness lately. The possible purging my soul of all if this darkness sure helped. And maybe karma does exist. Quite frankly, I'm due for some good luck. According to my karma calculations, I should fall in love, win the lottery & receive an Oscar or Pulitzer. It's been a bad couple of years. As for everyone else, I do honestly wish them all happiness. Just keep it out of my face, Facebook.

Fights

  I was thinking of the worst fights I've had with exes. Generally, I hate to fight with anyone. I'm easy like a Sunday morning. Inevitably, fights happen. We're all human and we get on each other's nerves. The worst fights I've had have been over the dumbest things. Looking back, they're very funny.
  My worst fight with my ex-husband was over eggs. Literally. I only vaguely recall the specifics of the fight. I think I wanted him to cook some eggs and he did but didn't tell me when they were done. So, they got cold. This is some diva shit, like Mariah Carey throwing a fit over the wrong champagne being in her dressing room, I know. Anyway, it got very heated to the point of me, in curlers at night, threatening to leave the apartment. Our arguing record was good though- only about four serious fights in thirteen years.
  One with HeWhoShallNotBeNamed was after playing an SNL trivia game. It was not fun. Probably the most not fun game ever. And, he wouldn't let it end. Then, he got in my face about it. He was a total dick like that. I pulled the "I'm leaving" bit and he threatened to break up with me. It simmered down and we made up. Our worst fight was the break up fight. The entire thing was via phone. First, text then actual conversation. It was such a pussy was to break up with me. Tactless. Grow a set and do it in person. For a long time, I wished eye herpes on him. How do you get eye herpes? You end up in jail, for whatever reason with an inmate the size of Michael Clark Duncan. He then has his way with your face and finishes in your eye. Plus, he has herpes. Hence, eye herpes. If this were the 70's and a Fantasy Island trip, after Mr. Rourke and Tattoo welcomed me to the island, you'd be seeing an ex wearing an eye patch.
  I haven't had a serious fight with anyone in a long time. I have told NBF that he was a fucking asshole after he blew off our plans. We were going to hang out later in the night, but I couldn't get details out of him. Basically, I'll text him and he texts back hours later. It's infuriating if you're making plans. I swear, Sandra Bullock and Keanu Reeves had better communication in that movie where they were separated by time and communicated via the mailbox. He responded to me hours later saying to not wait on him. I fucking almost missed seeing Argo. Don't mess with a woman and her Affleck, This is when he got called a "fucking asshole". This was sober Erin, too. I can take a lot, but not people blowing me off or stringing me along. People are lacking common courtesy anymore. Respond to texts or fucking say you don't want to talk.

  When you're in a relationship, there's always some give and take. I feel in some of the ones I've had, the give has been more in regards to watching TV. If anyone knows me well, they know I love TV. I just like to have it on in the background. Ever since my childhood, it's been an odd comfort. When I was little, I'd sneak out of bed and lay under the kitchen table so I could watch more TV. Generally, guys are pretty good with letting me have the remote. However, two men stick out as remote hogs that watched weird shows. Now, both claimed to watch these things as a joke, but I think it was serious viewing.
  The one guy, I'll call shorts. He wore shorts even in the winter. Shorts liked to put wrestling on to watch. Now, I haven't watched wrestling since middle school when I went through a short-lived wrestling phase. I was kind of livid every time he put it on. It was put on in the guise of a joke. Oh, haha, wrestling is on. But, it was on a lot for extended periods. That tells me he really liked it. In fact, we got in fights over it. He thought I got "the joke". Mind you, this was on My TV at MY apartment. When we argued, he demanded to be taken back to his parent's house. You know, where he lived. I had to drive him because he didn't have a car or a job. But, this is another story.
  The second case was even stranger. HeWhoShallNotBeNamed loved to watch this weird ass special on PBS of these Irish tenors singing. He watched it all the time. Granted, he made it look believable because he made fun of the guys. I laughed the first couple of times. I bet you money that he has watched it recently. He had to have secretly loved it. I make fun of Ghost Adventures, but I'll admit, I love the shit out of it. I think it's hokey and douchey, but it's glorious. Admit you love those tenors, you cheating bastard.
  Thank goodness that my longest relationship was free of TV domination. My current non-relationship with NBF (non boyfriend) is very fun. We watch a lot of Netflix prison documentaries and I even got him to watch Luther. I don't know if I could live with a man again. To relinquish control of the remote sickens me. As a woman, there's always periods of sports watching. I liken it to being a cat. You're sitting there on the couch, doing your thing. It's relatively quiet. Then, BAM, your guy is off the couch, yelling at the TV. Meanwhile, you have jumped out of your skin. By the end of the game, you have what feels like PTSD. I was in a bar the other night and a hockey game was on. It was a room full of people doing that shit. I felt like taking a bag of soda to everyone's heads. It makes you want to sneak into their rooms while they're sleeping and blog a foghorn into their ears. So, I don't miss that at all.
  Hanging with NBF has become very infrequent, so I've been sleeping alone, watching many episodes of Luther. When I watch them all, I'll be depressed. It's saved me from thinking about men and relationships and everything wrong with life. And, just know, that somewhere right now, Shorts is watching wrestling and an asshole is watching Irish tenors on PBS.

Let the airing of grievances begin

  I decided to start a second blog for several reasons. First, not much is going on in my dating life to write about on my dating blog. Second, I'm reading a book about how to change yourself. The author prescribes meditation and writing down your thoughts. My thoughts are generally about men and past men in my life. What better way to "journal" than to blog it, right? Third, it'll just make me laugh. My past relationships have been infuriating, exhilarating and somewhat ridiculous. I'm sure this will be therapeutic and entertaining.
  I came up with the idea while talking to my good friend. We were discussing this giant sinkhole that formed under this man's house and swallowed him. They didn't recover his body. We felt that didn't try hard enough. Like they just gave up. Neither of us know much about sinkhole body recovery, but we felt bad for this forgotten man. I declared we should go rescue him. Not only would we be heroes, but it would be a huge "fuck you" to a couple of our ex boyfriends. Around the same time a few years ago, we were each dating these big, macho guys. The guys were very similar- they thought they were always right and we were everything that was wrong with the world. Her ex declared that she would slow him down in any kind of civil war/zombie apocalypse situation. But, if we rescued the sinkhole guy, we could get some kind of satisfaction. (And rescue this poor man, because, sweet Jesus, I don't think anyone even cares to look for him).  Throw us to the zombies? I don't think so, because we're freaking heroes. They would both see us on the news from their parent's house. (Trust me, I think each one is still living with his parents). We could give them a face rake right to the camera. They'd know it was aimed at them.
  It made me remember all the ridiculous things this particular ex did and said. I thought it would be great to just devote a post here and there about various exes. Honestly, I'm sure there's tons these men could say about me, but let them start their own blogs. This lady knows her shortcomings.