She’s Single Again

So, yeah.  Those couple posts there where I bragged about how wonderful my new special someone was?  The nail polish, the flowers, the walks in the great outdoors?  Mr. Wonderful dumped me a week ago.

Let’s recap, shall we?  Remember last week?  The week in which I broke a car with my face?  Yep.  I also had not one, but two, other situations last week which can best be described as unmitigated disasters.  All in all, that week will go down in Janet History as one of the worst weeks of my life.  It ranks right up there just below weeks in which people I love actually died.  Maybe a hair under the week in which our agency lost funding and our entire staff was laid off.  But it’s right up there.

During all that hell, it occurred to me a time or two that Mr. W. wasn’t being quite so W. anymore.  He was super unsympathetic about my pain and suffering, a situation I chalked up to his ex-wife being a hypochondriac and him just being done with sympathy in general.  We all have our baggage.  I can understand that.

But he was also kind of on my case about all the stuff I could have done differently to mitigate the disasters (Mitigate is the word of the day, yo.) and all the stuff I should now do to make it all better.  Which.  Guys?  Go back and read my post on The Meadow Report.  Practice that line, “What a bitch.  I can’t believe she did that to you.”  I. Am. Dead. Serious.  It will change your life.  Or your wife.  HA.

During one such argument (which he later argued was not actually an argument), I reminded Mr. W. of that line, and also of my needs for being heard, understood, and supported, and my complete lack of need for instructions on how to run my life, and he said, “I’m not going to say that, because that will just encourage your craziness.”


Anyhoodle, as the Week of Hell drew to a close, I found myself in such a state Saturday night that I physically got on my knees and prayed.  I prayed about how insane everything in my life had become and about how incapable I clearly was to fix any of it.  I pleaded with God to just fix it.  Just take it from me, and You just fix it.  I visualized my job, my physical body, my spirit, my finances, and my relationship, one by one dropped from my hands into God’s capable hands, and I declared my doneness with it all.

I woke up Sunday morning, and as I sat in bed drinking coffee, Mr. W. called and broke up with me.  I was stunned.  And yet, not at all stunned.  All I could think is, “Wow, God, message received on that one.  And kudos on the super fast turnaround.”  I think I actually thanked W. for dumping me or some such idiocy.  I do distinctly recall saying, “Okay.”  Which is one of the three dumbest responses you can have to someone saying, “I’m breaking up with you.”  Or maybe one of the three smartest.  It could go either way.

The longer the day progressed though, the angrier I got about it all.  I’d just had one of the worst weeks of my life, and his response is to dump me?!  It’s almost Christmas!  I have his presents bought, two of which are non-returnable.  I’d just met his parents and children one week  before.  And they adored me.  I “blew them away.”  His words.

His new words on that Sunday morning included something like, “I’ve seen things in the past week that aren’t going to be good for me long term.”  As though the things I’d experienced in the past week were good for me in any term.  Cars and faces don’t mix kids.  Also, an email, once sent, cannot be unsent.  Truth.

The whole debacle reminds me of that Marilyn Monroe quote, “If you can’t handle me at my worst, you sure as hell don’t deserve me at my best”  That sums up how I feel about it all.

Because, for real guys, my worst?  It isn’t all that bad.  And my best?  It’s f*cking awesome.

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