The Ex Factor

WARNING: This is a lot of background. If you know me--or if you've been reading my posts--you know I always have to tell the backstory to make what I really wanted to tell you relevant. If you don't give a shit about backstory, skip this post. And if you do choose to read and find yourself in the middle of this wondering why you're wasting your time on this chick's bullshit past, remember, I warned you.

I hate using that phrase "The Ex Factor" but seriously, what else am I going to call a post about old boyfriends? "My Old Boyfriends that I obsess over"?  Nah, too revealing. "The Ghosts of Boyfriend's Past"... Um... no. Reminds me of that horrid Matthew McConaughey movie . I love him and I love Jennifer Garner, and it has the extremely under appreciated Breckin Meyer, but that movie was horrid.

*focus EJ... focus*

So yea... the title stays. Unless I change my mind later which I am probably going to do, on a whim, at 3am after I've spent hours trying to kill the zombies that have invaded my roof. (Yes, on the roof level. Butter chucking corn anyone??)

I have loved 4 men in my lifetime. The first was when I was 17. I fell in love with my neighbor who was the cutest, sweetest, funniest boy I had ever met. He was one year younger in age, but two years below me in school. So I was a senior when he was a sophomore. It's a trend... you'll see. Anyway, he played baseball. He played baseball very well. He pitched 95mph fast balls and hit home runs over the centerfield fence. We flirted with each other for over a year before any declaration of feelings were made. But once those feeling were declared, it was a love story for the masses. He would leave love letters on my windshield as he walked to school so I would find them before I left for work. He would watch out his window and call me the instant I got home from work to see how my day was. He'd hold my hand and give me the most amazing hugs. We would make out like the crazy teenagers we were.  That's how sweet and loving our young relationship was.




The All-American Mr. Baseball
(identity concealed because I'm a paranoid bitch)


We stayed together for a year and what an amazing year it was for me. We grew together, explored together and loved each other so much it was like a freakin' fairy tale. But unlike fairy tales, we didn't live happily ever after. I was only 19 for goodness sakes! We broke up when he began hanging out with the asshole jocks and was on the road to becoming one himself. So yea, I plucked that apple right as it started to ripen. His innocence was lost and he was no longer the sweet boy that I fell in love with.

That break up tore me apart. I loved him so completely that he consumed me for years, even long after I've moved on. I can safely say, 18 years later I still love him. Do we ever stop loving our first loves?

After I finally got over Mr. Baseball, I was introduced to a young man that intrigued me. I was 21 at the time and living my life as a 21 year old girl should... living on my own, working by day, hanging out and having fun with friends at night. I met Mr. Perfect on one of those fun nights. Mr. Perfect was only 18. Eighteen for God's sake! But he didn't look that young. He was... Mr. Perfect. Mr. Perfect and I flirted with each other intensely for 6 months... six very long months. And it wasn't the harmless teenage flirting I did with Mr. Baseball. This was full on "are we going to do it or not" flirting.There was so much sexual tension between us it was tangible to everyone around us. But Mr. Perfect refused to commit. I assumed there were real reasons why he didn't want to "go out" with me: He was really a pimp. He was married. He was an alien sent to earth to tempt me and draw me back to his UFO so the other aliens--not him--could breed with me. Because honestly, all I wanted to do was to breed--with him! Ugh. Anyway, my now 22 year old manipulative ass decided to teach him a lesson and started to hang out with a guy that I knew Mr. Perfect hated. I wanted to make Mr. Perfect jealous. And oh man, did it! My friends said it was mean, "So unlike you!" they said. Uh yea, whatever. It was me, I did it. And it worked. Mr. Perfect was mine after that. All mine. Mr. Perfect and I were together for 2 years. And he was well... perfect.




Mr. Perfect. *sigh*
(identity concealed again, still a paranoid bitch!)


Then, out of the blue, we broke up. But we really didn't break up. He was still at my house all the time. We were still "breeding" all the time. The commitment thing just got in the way again. Fucker. Then he left for college. And instead of moving on, my stupid ass followed him to that college. I failed miserably there. Mr. Perfect moved on and was someone else's Mr. Perfect.  I was a mess, reduced to big ol' blob of useless ooze wandering the college campus aimlessly.




Ooze: has no purpose in life but be ooze.


That big blob of useless ooze went on a downhill spiral and pretty much hit rock bottom. My brother swooped in, convinced me to move to his state, his city. And in this crumpled ooze state I was in I was hit over the head with the wit and humor and nerdy good looks of my brother's best friend. He was six feet and four inches of the perfect medicine for me. I immediately fell in love with him. He made me laugh. He restored my faith in men being a man. I knew Mr. Perfect has prepared me for this man. I was certain of it. I went through the pain of losing the man I thought I was going to spend my life with to fall in with the real man I was going to spend my life with. It was fate. And fate had brought me to Mr. Viking. (Viking as in his favorite team, not as in his size, manner or stench). But here's the problem with Mr. Viking. He was my brother's best friend. They had a pact... a code... a stupid fucking agreement. Bros before hos. Yes... that is exactly what they said. So Mr. Viking wouldn't "let" himself love me. His words... I swear. So my weakened heart got broken again. And then again when he started dating the succubus. And she was just that, a succubus. You know what a succubus does? It's sucks the soul out of men.



Yep, that's her. The soul sucking bitch.

She sucked the soul out of my Mr. Viking and made him into this unfunny, scared shell of a man. He suddenly couldn't make the crude jokes he was known for. Or watch football and get incredibly drunk on Sundays which he was known for. All his wit and humor and charm was sucked out of him. So she not only stole his soul, she stole mine.

I was back to the ooze. But I was hardened. I was a crusty ooze. No, I was more then crusty, I had a rock hard shell around me. My love life had taken me through some really hard times. By the time I met my husband I was jaded, and listless. I married him thinking he was what I needed. He was stable, with an excellent job, lived on his own, supported himself and was extremely patient with my bullshit. But as marriages go, his bullshit, added to my bullshit made things difficult. Life has been a roller coaster since then. But that's a different story.

Where has all this history gotten me and why am I writing this all today? Gosh, I have no idea. Let me regroup, rethink why I babbled and then let you know what's REALLY on my mind...

TO BE CONTINUED...