was pretty damn horrible. Wilson and I discussed the future more in depth only to find out we are on completely separate pages. Not only does he NEVER want to get married again, if I lived with him we would never even buy a house together. No financial merger what-so-ever. The longer I think about it, it doesn't seem like a heart merger either. The last time we talked we decided that since we both had such different views of the future, we should go our separate ways. His last words to me were "I do love you, take care of Sissy for me."
I am broken hearted. He is a firefighter in the big city and was a hero to Sissy and I too. We went through hell after her father molested her. Out of the blue a beautiful, kind, loving man waltzed into our lives. He showed me what normal, respectful, love felt like. He gave Sissy a role model of a true man. She told my bff the other day that Wilson had done more for her in two years than her father had in a life time. I texted him this week and told him I was miserable without him and if he was happy with the way things were he didn't have to respond. He didn't.
Sissy and I each had Halloween parties to attend Saturday night. I dropped her off at hers and cringed at the short, fluffy skirt she wore. She was a "Ring Master" and her little girl friend with her was a "Clown" also in short, frilly skirt. UGH...they needed to be dressed as nuns. I would have felt much better. She assured me she wore her cheer "spankies" underneath so as to decrease the "skank value" of her costume. Oh my girl. I left them at the town hall with parents supervising the party and felt pretty good about it, just hoping her skirt stayed flat.
My friends and I headed off to the town bar. There is only one bar in our town and it was packed. Soon after we arrived they filled to capacity and long lines formed outside. It felt like being in a club in the city not a derelict old saloon...which it was in reality.
I was wearing the costume I had wanted to wear for years. Tippy Hendren from "The Birds". I had on a vintage suit, pill box hat, and covered myself with artificial birds. One on my hat too, with a wee bit of blood dripping down to assure the "attack" effect.
I was not happy though, sad about Wilson, feeling like a silly 43 year old in my costume and wondering what the hell I was even doing out. Then I got asked to dance....again.....and again.....
A group of 20 something guys had all come together dressed up as random ball players - original. (sarcasm people) After the seventh dance with one of the football players I finally asked "What is the deal- is it fantasy night with the High School Secretary?" "No" he said "You are just extremely sexy." I looked around at all of the 21 year old girls in attendance. There must have been 15 or so "Fat Fairies" on the dance floor. I consider myself a curvy girl and would never consider most of the costumes these girls squeezed into. But I couldn't get over the amount of pudge bouncing around. I simply told myself "I just happen to be here on Fat night so that is why I am getting all of the attention."
I was dancing again with another football player, 27, cap on backwards, pressed up against me while I continually peeled his hands off of my butt when I got a tap on my shoulder. I turned around and there was the mother to Sissy's little clown. Janie and I work together in the High School office. We are both HS secretaries. Our daughters, like us at one time, are cheerleaders together, and too damn cute for their own good. "I have the girls in the car Tarie. They left the nice party and went to a naughty one with booze. They both got MIP's." Minor in Posession of alcohol. I was flabbergasted. Sissy did not drink. Well, she didn't USED to! She was left with the worst sensitive stomach after the ordeal with her father. We discussed many times how alcohol could easily send her to the Emergency Room. A place we have visited many times in her young life due to her stomach and uncontrollable vomiting.
I told Janie to take her home and put her to bed. That I was so pissed off at her I would be home after I cooled down.
I could only be tough mom for about 20 more minutes. As I walked out of the club two football players followed me. Each with an invitation to two different after parties. I left them in the lobby of the old saloon arguing about which one of them I had danced with more. I left two 27 year old hotties fighting over me, headed home to my drunk little girl, and missed my sober 48 year old fire fighter.
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