The Demerits of Being Single, aka Life Without Tee

But I also have some big hangups on being free. Most of these things I could probably find in another partner but some of them are specific to Tee and I could search for a thousand years and never find somebody who possessed them all.

Listing things about being single is easy, everyone likes space and time to themselves. But remembering things shared, personal "bliks" (shout out to Professor Dunn) that became inside jokes or couple habits, those will be listed in much more detail, it's the least I can do in tribute to a 3.5 year relationship.

When I go to Chocolate Factory and "forget" to order my sub without the jalapeno bacon (a ritual started specifically for Tee), I have nobody to give it to and end up throwing it away. Sidenote: The first time this happened, I was sans Lola and couldn't have given someone the bacon anyway but when I realized it was time to break this habit, I cried.

I don't have anyone to play with in the shower. Now reader, I know I have Lola and we do indeed play in the shower but that's not exactly what I mean. I used to have a partner who would slip into the bathroom as stealthily as possible (which never worked since you could always feel the breath of fresh air opening the door yielded) and undress, rip open the shower curtain and shake his wanker at me, hollering. Does this sound charming, I don't know know how it sounds to someone other than me, it was our blik. I would also routinely be spied upon, which can be embarassing or really sexy, depending.

I miss the hot lovin' you get when you first fall for someone. The desire to be with one another ALL the time, an experience I've only had once, with Tee and I wonder if it'll ever happen again. I hope most desparately it will. I would actually wake up early, drive to Tee's and spend an hour or two in bed with him before I had to be at work, I surely did love him.

I miss cracking his back after sex.

I miss being able to speak my nonsense way of talking (made-up words, trailing sentences, subject changes and all) and having someone not only understand me, but interpret for the rest of our friends. The only person that comes close is Megan.

I no longer have someone to send articles about things that are dear to me: giant squid, grizzly bears, mummies etc. I know Tee mostly didnt' care about such things but he pretended to for my sake and I occasionally got articles he thought I would like, a pleasant suprise.

Nobody dances with me in my parents' living room to no music anymore.

I don't get to hang out with Tee's Grandma, Teresa. A BIG bummer, she's as chill as her daughter is tense and anal!

Nobody to force-read authors to, then discuss books in length.

I never get touched anymore as someone's equal. It's either touching as Mommy, touching to get a co-worker's attention or not being touched at all. I'm feeling semi-ice queen.

The Merits of Being Single aka Life Without Tee

First off, I would like to make clear that Pee is not my mother-in-law and even when Tee and I would speak of marriage, her looming busybody presence would pop into mind, making me recoil from the idea.

Pfhhh, who needs a piece of paper from the city that legally chains me to that woman? NOT ME! That's obviously the greatest thing about being broken up with Tee, being (somewhat) free of his mother.

But I have a lot of things that I really like about being single. Here's a list:

I can flirt with anyone and everyone, and do.

I am free to explore my crushes, which at this time include women, a first.

I can dispassionately examine my long-ass leg hair in the shower and dismiss the idea of shaving without ever really thinking about it.

I can listen to the blues, Bob Dylan, copious amounts of Tom Petty, or super-sappy hippy love music and Lola and I can warble as loud as we want without getting condescending looks from Tee or worse, having it turned off without permission, mid-warble.

I can rearrange my food while in a restaurant and not get made fun of for being discerning.

I can change my clothes four times a day if I wish.

I wear granny panties.

I sleep on my bed without sheets, just a mattress and blanket.

I don't have to fold Tee's laundry anymore

I don't have to listen to Tucker sing

No more smelling disgusting energy drinks, no more cleaning up debris (often energy drink cans) left in my car.

No more mood swings to deal with (his, not mine) except for Lola but since our mood swings often coincide, I'm OK with hers.

When I go to do laundry, there isn't a load of clothes hanging out in dirty, murky water because the cycle was stopped before spin, what is the point of doing a load then? I never got that.

No more video games!

Tucker is in school, enjoys it and by all accounts will be good at what he's studying.

I hang out with my friends, often overnight. We plan and follow thru with weekend get-aways, I have time to make new friends.

I can watch foreign films without getting scoffed at.

I get Monkey all to myself.

Most weekends are mine to do with as I please. Since Tee has Lola, I get to go shopping (without $ of course), sleep in, clean, watch movies, relax as needed. I can go out and do whatever I want with whoever I want, I answer to nobody on the weekends. That's really nice.

I get a huge bed to myself, until Monkey, Lola, Binky and Uma join me in it. Hmmm. Maybe this should be in the other category.

I can cut my hear-hair as short as I want, I grow my body-hair as long as I want.

The Unfairness of it ALL....

I'm doing exactly as I feared and my first "real" post is going to be one not concerning Lola at all. Or maybe it does concern her, in a Kevin Bacon-six degrees of separation sort of a way: Veronica is getting fucked. Veronica is part of the Lola fan club, chapter Servpro. She is also, unfortunately, an illegal alien. She happens to be one of the funniest, most genuine females I've ever met, with memorable mannerisms, charming spanglish and two of the cutest little girls this side of a chimichanga. And she's getting fucked.

When I say fucked (just so we're clear) I'm not talking "sweaty, grin-with-disbelief-on-how-amazing-that-was" fucked, I'm talking "oh shit, what the hell is she going to do now, let's hope there's some way she can stay in the this country" fucked.

Here's the situation: Veronica and her hubby don't have a lot of money (hear hear!) and she is applying for BadgerCare for her two little girls. This is all good so far since she has an alias, (I know it but I'm not going to reveal it since it wouldn't be such a good alias then, would it?) and we wrote her a check to show she works here.

Background knowledge: Veronica's alias actually works through a temporary staffing firm, Veronica herself doesn't actually exist in the US.

Yesterday, I get a routine phone call from her social worker (I know, couldn't they call them something else, like "useless") who is trying to verify employment. The problem comes in where Veronica is not employed by Servpro, she's employed by a staffing agency and she is not employed by the staffing agency under Veronica.

Chad is tied with this one. He can fill out the employment verification form stating Veronica is our employee (which she's not) and risk an audit which shows we hired an illegal resident. Or... he can deny that she is our employee and ruin her chances for affordable health insurance.

I know how expensive insurance is... for one child. For two, even with two working parents, it's got to be astronomical.

I'm heartbroken to know that this wonderful woman is getting denied health insurance because of us, that she'll be scrimping by each time a little one has an ear infection or god forbid, breaks an appendage. I sympathize and ache for the state of things.

It's just not fucking fair. And if one of you hypothetical readers even so much as thinks her illegal status is cause for being stringent, I challenge you: look into her little girls' dark, wary eyes and tell them that their mother is a second rate human whose nonexistent citizenship is reason enough to deny them quality health care. You hardhearted fuck.

Testing, testing one two three

Is blogging a self-absorbed fad? Am I a pretentious mother to include Lola's name as the title of this blog when I know I'm going to be focusing more on my perspective as a single-ish, semi-self-sufficient woman rather than a 1.5 year old minor demon? Am I going to whine this entire blog.



NO. End of the introspection, on with the self-absorbed (yet let's face it, oddly theraputic) fad.



Name: Etta

Age: 23

Position in life: mother, "administrative assistant" (what a crock of shit, I'm a secretary striving to be as good as Maggie Gyllenhaal, any woman who can function in an office with her hands tied behind her back, wow.), sister (shout out Nelly), daughter-still-living-at-home, and cunty ex-girlfriend.



At this point, I'm not sure if anybody will be reading this so I'm going to go all out, bare all and say "fuck it," I'm not going to spare feelings for once, I'm going to sling dirt and swears and I have a feeling it's going to feel good.



Be prepared.