Category Archives: Divorce

Opposing Counsel

Some of you who follow my Twitter updates may have noticed a short tweet last night that went something like this: “Omg, rudest date ever.” Here’s the (longer than 140 characters) story:

Joe called last Saturday, after basically three months of silence. It’s cool, we didn’t have an exclusive relationship, goodness knows, but I tend to gravitate toward the “Hey, let’s take a break for a while, no hard feelings” line of breaking things off, rather than screen and ignore calls or emails which he seems to favor.

I like Joe. He’s fun to hang out with and go to football games and watch basketball games and Mike & Mike in the Morning. You know, buddy-style. And while I am, in his words, “damn sexy,” we have never had penetrative vaginal intercourse (Ew, sex ed.) I look good on his arm at parties and restaurants and I’m smarter than most women he knows, which is a big turn-on.

So, last Saturday I picked up the phone and he asked me to dinner on Monday, after he finished his hearing at the courthouse.

(Did I mention that I referred my sweet little brother to Joe, who is a hell of a divorce attorney?)

I met him at a bar downtown, we had a glass of wine and I admired his suit. I’ve never seen him in pants other than jeans, and never in dress shoes. Like, ever. He started telling me about the hearing, and how clueless my sister-in-law’s attorney was. I could tell he was in lawyer mode, and silently thanked the universe that I didn’t have to face him in court. Since this was a dinner date and I was starving, I suggested we finish our wine and go down the street for sushi. And that’s when the real trouble started.

Instead of sitting at the table to which we were shown, Joe scooped up the menus and moved over to a different table. I have no idea why; they were right next to each other. Then, when our server came to take our order, he wanted her to have the chef make half an order of the sashimi assortment because, as he said, “20 pieces of sashimi is too much food.”

For two people? Seriously? That’s 10 bites of food each.

I ordered a spicy tuna roll and he rolled his eyes.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“You’re just going to fill up on rice. It’s a waste.”

“Even so, I would like the spicy tuna roll, please,” I said to the server.

Joe threw up his hands. Poor server walked away with our order and my apologetic look.

Soon the server was back. “Excuse me, I’m very sorry, but the chef cannot halve the sashimi plate.”

“Why not?”

“It’s restaurant policy.”

Joe laughed menacingly, as if this server and the sushi chef had conspired against him and he was now prepared to make their lives a living hell, “Bring the menu back.” Then, “Give us the seven-piece tuna sashimi. And some more sake. Hot.”

No “please.” No nod of acknowledgment when things were presented, much less a “thank you,” which I attempted to deliver, embarrassed by his lack of etiquette. I fucking hate that.

So, dinner for two consisted of one seaweed salad, one spicy tuna roll and seven pieces of sashimi. What?

Midway through the salad, he mentioned something which gave me a chance to tell one of my famously funny sushi stories. Two sentences in, he corrected a detail about a James Bond movie, “It’s blahblahblah,” he shot. I replied, “Huh, really? I thought it was blahblahblah.”

“Listen, I’m the 007 expert here. It most certainly is blahblahblah; I’ll bet you a hundred dollars. Two hundred dollars.”

I sat there, stunned.

What?

“Um, okay.”

“Finish the story.”

“No.”

“Just finish the damn story, Linnie.”

“I will not tell the story simply to finish the story. It’s not funny anymore.”

I took a bite of seaweed. The couple at a nearby table were looking over nervously. We sat in silence.

“Listen, you could have at least waited until I’d finished before you–”

“Shot you down?”

“–interrupted me and shot me down. I’m not opposing counsel.”

He apologized to me, but maintained his rudeness to our server for the remainder of dinner. I didn’t see the check, but I’m sure he didn’t tip her nearly enough for having to put up with him and his pompous, condescending attitude.

We walked out, and said goodbye on the corner. His car was at one end of the street, and mine was at the other, “I’ve missed you, baby, we should see each other again soon.”

I smiled wanly, “Thanks for dinner, Joe.”

I waited for the light while he walked to his car. I turned on my heel and walked back into the restaurant. The hostess held up my umbrella, “Back for this?”

“Oh, I forgot about that! Thanks, but I actually wondered if you could please give this to our server with my apologies.”

I handed her a ten dollar bill and went home hungry.

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Filed under Dating, Divorce, Frustration, Fuckbuddies

I’ll see your “dumbass” and raise you “inconsiderate fuck”

stop me if you’ve heard this one before.

i just got an email from daniel with his flight itinerary for his next visit which was supposed to be friday-sunday. a very nice note accompanied it, saying that a conference came up and he decided to move the visit to sunday-tuesday. how sweet.

no phone call, no email, no “will this work instead? i really need to attend this conference and i really miss the kids so can we change the dates?” nope, “i’ve moved the visit to sunday morning and i’ll drop them off at school on tuesday.”

wow, so yeah, they have hebrew school for three hours on sunday, regular school for six hours on monday and tae kwon do for an hour and a half monday evening. should be plenty of time to get in your “it’s always a party with dad” activities. that, and you know, homework and stuff.

not to mention that i’ve committed to working at a charity benefit all day saturday because they were supposed to be with him.

i want to go back to bed and wake up and hear that he’s magically been transformed into a beetle so i can squash him on the pavement with a satisfying crunch.

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Filed under Divorce, dumbassery, Frustration, Kids, Parenting

it’s a good thing i don’t own a gun.

wow, daniel is the biggest dumbass on the planet.

he did something so incredibly stupid, so embarrassingly irresponsible while the kids were with him last month that i’m rendered speechless. aghast. agape. agog.

the fact that he made them promise not to tell me about it says a lot. i’m not sure i’m prepared to talk about it here, but suffice it to say, it is the mothership of stupidity and cluelessness in a parent.

i’ve talked with friends and lovers, consulted with joe, my fuckbuddy-cum-attorney, and cleaned my house in frustration and freaked-outedness.

it is very disconcerting to realize that, even though every second of every day the possibility of something terrible happening to one of your children exists, and i understand and respect that, mine are disturbingly unsafe when they’re with their father.

he is consistently raising the bar for stupidity in parenting, and this time it involved child endangerment and the police (the motherfucking police!) in his city, whom i’ll be phoning tomorrow to get to the bottom of the most disturbing words i’ve ever heard my children say.

and they’ve been known to drop f-bombs. just saying.

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Filed under Divorce, dumbassery, Freaking Out, Kids, Parenting

Ache. Ach.

My phone rang at 7:30 this morning. Jack’s little voice was on the other end.

“Momma, I want to come home. To my house. I miss you. Please, Momma, please. I don’t like it here with Daddy.”

He and Miles won’t be home for another two weeks.

I totally hate it.

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Filed under Divorce, Kids, Parenting

Seven Things

1. Jack and I spent three hours in the ER last Sunday getting his chin stitched up after he smashed his face into the jungle gym. It was Power Ranger related.

2. My mom the nurse is taking the stitches out today. In a couple hours.

3. The boys are with their dad and stepmother and new* baby brother at the hotel.

4. I am too hungover for the work I have to do this weekend and next week. Projects loom. Big projects. Huge.

5. Coffee is good.

6a. My children’s stepmother is, while a bit overly protective of her son, a nice person.

6b. My ex is a dumbass who brushed his fingers down my arm in that weird way when we were alone and loading things in at the trunk of the car.

7. Ew.

* The baby is almost a year old, but this is the first time they’ve seen him

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Filed under Divorce, Freaking Out, Kids, Parenting, Stories, Weirdness

All My Friends

All my friends,
got broken wings.
never will you hear them asking why,
the caged bird sings.
All my friends,
they know how to live.
oh so much sorrow,
so much love to give.

~Amos Lee

I don’t want for friends or companionship of the naked kind. Granted, I’m not all up in people’s business for days on end, but I don’t need to be, and yo, I have kids at home, so it’s really not an option for me.

But I have done a decent job of finding good guys with whom I can share afternoon dates and evenings out, along with pleasant conversation and other naked activities.

Here’s the problem: I’m not into them like I’d want them to be my date to the wedding I have to attend on Saturday, or to accompany me to my birthday party next month (Here’s a hint: it’s a big one).

It’s complicated introducing fuckbuddies to one’s friends. I’d rather not do it, as it leads to questions and speculation I’d prefer to avoid.

It’s complicated introducing fuckbuddies to one’s family. I’ve never done it, and I’m not going to start, even though one of my current (he of the questioning “hoe”) is an attorney and provided one of my brothers with a very helpful referral recently. He is not coming to mom’s for dinner. Those things need to stay as separate as possible. Especially since they are the same age.

Which leads me to the not-so-nice place of planning a group birthday party with two of my friends next month and having no one to invite. And wishing that my best friends–the ones who don’t live here–could come. And thinking–knowing–that I want awesome sex for my birthday, and I want to have it with someone who matters to me.

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Filed under Dating, Divorce, Fuckbuddies, sex

Sweetness

Tonight my ex-husband looks me up and down and says, “You look great! You’re so skinny–show me?”

Seriously.

I’m no thinner than I was when we were married, unless you count the 22 pounds of pregnancy weight which were long gone when we split up.

And then I wave it off, “I’m not so skinny, I’m just happy.”

. . .which really is the sweetest thing.

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Filed under Divorce, Love, Stories