Saturday, August 15, 2009

Tale of Two Ex's

Oh, we all have them.  Ex's.  Ex-boyfriends, ex-husbands, ex-what-was-your-name-again?  If life was fare, we would break up with up them and never hear anything about them again, except that they spent the rest of their lives pining away for us.  We would not have to hear that they happened to find the love of their life with the very next girl they decided to date right after you...

Or that they are getting married.  Ever.  Which they informed you after having had some sort of massive brain fart then getting the fabulous idea that they needed to call/e-mail/facebook/twitter/IM you with that little glorious tidbit of information.  Just so you would know. Cause the fact that you weren't THE ONE, but the one before THE ONE isn't enough to make that bitter taste in the back of your throat every time some one brings up Ex's name (or in this case apparently ~ names) go away.

Here I was enjoying the last bit of my summer break.  Not having a care in the world since the school district can't get their sh*t together and actually post the curriculum so I wouldn't have to bust my hump making lesson plans that have more amendments to them than the Constitution on the day school actually started, when I get an e-mail from Ex#1.  What?!  I haven't heard from him in ages and while, yes, I was technically the one to dump him, it was still a little *Yeah Me* on the ego scale to see that he had been thinking of little ol' moi.  It was full of the usual catch-ups: How are you? What have you been up to? How's teaching? And, Oh by the way, I am getting married.  

I think I spent five minutes reading and rereading that little dagger through the heart. Strangely the announcement never changed no matter how many times I read it thinking I had mistaken something in the Times New Roman font.  Ok, time to woman-up, Ms. Tastrophie,
and send Ex#1 a begrudging congratulations.  I mean, I was the one to break up.  And I knew I wasn't THE ONE for him, but single-at-40 is still a bitter pill to swallow, no matter how many Ho-Ho's and Xanax you use to cover it.  I sent a slightly over-the-top-cheerful note expressing my hopes for a long and fruitful union.  Then went and downed a couple of Ho-Ho's to sooth my bruised ego.  (Make that several Ho-Ho's: you know how big Lisatastrophie's ego is.)

About an hour or so later I am talking to Ex#2 via IM.  Strangely, through our love of a similar sport, EX#2 and I have kept in brief/random contact.  So having a random IM conversation with him was not too far fetched.  Plus, he was the one who said we could still be "friends" when he broke up with me and I took his word on it.  (Note to guys:  Don't even bother with this bullsh*t line.  We know you don't mean it and we will only use it as an excuse to drive you batsh*t nuts.  It's our little way of getting even for your breaking our hearts.)  Anyway, I was telling him about Ex#1's little announcement when he decides to disclose to me that he has an announcement of his own:  He's engaged as well.  Then he proceeds to give me every detail of how the nuptial asking went down.  Being that Ms. Tastrophie is a true Southern woman, I gave my second cheerful congratulations of the day and quickly ended the IM session before I went all Fatal Attraction on my pillow with the butter knife.

The whole time I am making mince-meat out of my favorite feather down king sized pillow, I am thinking "OMG! Are you kidding me?  This can not be happening twice in one day.  Hell, lightening doesn't even strike twice and I just got a double love-karma b*tch slap from two Ex's on the same day!!!" I didn't get this kind of love-karma-hell when I got divorced.   Oh Sweet Mary someone get me the double sized box of Ho-Ho's STAT cause this is not going to be pretty.  Who cares if I was the dumpee or the dumper?  I don't want to know that my Ex's are living happily-ever-after when the closest thing I have had to a relationship in the last year has been telling my batsh*t crazy co-worker to go screw off.  Now that I think about it, he is now my EX-co-worker and with my luck will probably call me to tell me HE has gotten engaged as well.  

After the first (of many) 30 minute crying jag, I managed to find my recipe for Lemon Drop Martini's (*see below) and make myself a few (I lost count at 5) that would have made James Bond beg me for more.  I am not sure what happened after martini #3 but I do know that the hang-over I had the next morning would have given both of the Ex's sweet satisfaction knowing that once again Ms. Tastrophie was given a taste of the little karmic-kick-back she is so richly getting from the universe these days.

Life's Little Helper Lemon Drop Martini's
1 1/2 ounce Vodka
3/4 ounce Triple Sec
2 tsp Sugar
3/4 ounce Lemon Juice
Mix over ice.  Shake 40+ times.  Strain and pour in sugar rimmed glass.  
Drink responsibly please. :-)

6 comments:

LarryLilly said...

Its easy to understand why. They were so smitten with you that when it ended their only recourse was to latch on to the first women that came their way.

Its all about YOU, not them.

You just have higher standards.

Men can be like dogs, chase the first scented they find.

Happy Hour...Somewhere said...

Two in one day...that is so wrong. Karma bitch slapped you for something and I can only hope it gets better from now on. The martinis sound good but Jack and I have a great relationship.

I am seriously sitting here trying to imagine my ex calling or emailing me to tell me he is getting married. And you're right...I just skitter away from the thought and wonder where the chocolate is. Which is weird. I left him. That's right. I guess I should pity the next person he marries--negativity, complaining, hectoring, never happy...yeah, poor slob.

LarryLilly said...

Women suffer from DIY project overkill. They start ouyt with flawed men and hope to turn them into DIY projects. A coat of paint, some better fabrics, some polish and voila, a James Bond with or without the martini. Fact is, when Mr never going to be Right turns out t be what he is, they trash him like yesterdays newsprint under the pet canary. But you spent so much energy into that project well, its hard to just give it away and the aw doesnt let you burn hm. So you sulk and fret and when you hear he is taken in by some other DIYer, well, that beatch has the easy part, after all, you started and did the heavy lifting....

dg said...

Ahhhhh, girlfriend. We've all been there, have we not? Biggest arse I ever dated - Chris in college. Who did he marry and subsequently impregnate FIVE times? The followup girlfriend. They've been married for probably 17 years or more and have five kids, she homeschools them all. Personally? I think I got the better deal. But, it still stung. I remember my friend, Tracy, taking me aside to inform me quietly of his pending nupitals. I brushed it off casually, like, whatever, you know? But, it did sting at the time. Coincidentally, he's still an ass . . . at least that's the word on the street.

Scope said...

Right after college, I had a string of 3 or 4 ex's that went on to get engaged to the next person they dated. I felt a bit like what I imagine that movie "Good Luck Chuck" was about.

Lisa-tastrophies said...

@Larry ~ Awwwweee, love ya!

@Happy ~ It will. I have run out of ex's that I actually give a damn about. So any others that get married are some one else's problem :-)

@DG ~ You did get the better deal. You got captain Recovery!!

@Scope ~ OK, now I have to go rent that movie.