Dear Blog,

There’s been a lot of discussion on Facebook (where I get all my quality news these days…hehehe) about the US Vice-President Elect, Mike Pence, being booed at a Broadway show. Being the curious soul that I am, I read up on Mr. Pence and didn’t like what I found out.

Mr. Pence seems to have a lot of energy to direct towards wanting to target homosexuals and promotes programs for “curing” homosexuals – even going so far as to want to deny medical treatment for any people suffering from AIDS who won’t go into those programs.

It seems to me, dear Blog, that whenever people (usually “straight” men – let’s call a spade a spade) decide to make their name based on persecution of others it is because they are hiding something about themselves. How many times have we read about a well known homophobic pastor or politician found snorting drugs with male prostitutes or having sex with men in public washrooms?

Even my late husband exhibited this type of behaviour. He just would not shut up about infidelity – how it was so wrong and how he suspected members of his family of cheating or starting their now “respectable” relationships as illicit affairs. I was lectured at least once a month about how it would be so bad for our relationship should I ever cheat on him. (No, duh!). For the record dear Blog, I never did nor did I ever have any intention on loving or being with another – JD was my whole world. No matter how difficult our relationship could get at times thanks to the OCD, I never considered venturing outside of it.

Despite having to witness these regular harangues about cheating, the penny never dropped for me.

It got this silly: we were unwinding with a classic movie one night, starring Katharine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy. JD thought they were married in real life and without thinking I told him the truth: Spencer Tracy was married to another but he and his wife lived separately and did not divorce, so he and Katharine did not marry although they were very much a couple.

That was it – he declared that henceforth we could never watch another movie with Katharine Hepburn in it because SHE was a cheater. I made a mental note at the time that Spencer Tracy was not pointed out as part of this ban…hmmmm?

This was just too much for me – the one who usually mentally checked out when these rants began, so as to not engage and prolong them any further – and I snapped back: “Well, I guess we can never watch ANY movies again based on that criteria, including those of your favourite, Clint Eastwood – THAT well-known cheater.”

This was met with blessed silence and then a change of topic.

Of course, now we now how the story ends – with his death and my subsequent discovery of HIS cheating.

Another interesting point – JD would also regularly rant about school teachers – how they were overpaid, underworked, entitled whiners. I was baffled by this behaviour too – especially since so far as I knew JD didn’t even have any contact with teachers since he left high school. How did he know so much about them and their earnings and work schedules and benefits? And why did it bother him so much? Well Blog – guess what? I found out the “other” woman, who was also cheated on by JD, is a teacher.

Guilt makes us do crazy things sometimes, doesn’t it?

So now dear Blog whenever I hear of someone like Mr. Pence who has an unseemly interest in denouncing and controlling others’ behaviour or lifestyle, alarm bells sound in my head. I won’t be surprised if someday there is a very different story about him trending on Facebook.

Rock on,

The WB

Dear Blog,

I came across the most amazing article on my Facebook feed this morning. One that captures concisely and gives a name to the feelings (or more accurately, the lack of them) I have been experiencing over the past few years.

I’ve been thinking about how to write about this wondrous new stage of my life (my freedom from romantic and/or sexual needs) but I just couldn’t find the words. And I wondered if I should be even discussing such a thing. And here Katarina Thorsen has written the post for me – almost as if she was me!

I had questioned if this is what being asexual meant. I’ve read articles about this, and thought the term only applied to those who are of breeding age yet have no interest in romantic attachments. Not to someone who was once a sexual creature but had since grown past that stage. After reading Kat’s words, I can see that this is exactly what I am. An Ace (slang for asexual, I learned today!).

I have very clear memories of approaching puberty with complete dread. I was witnessing with horror friends who only a few days ago seemed perfectly sane, suddenly lose their minds over smelly, disgusting boys. Instead of wanting to play with me, they wanted to spend hours pouring over the pages of Tiger Beat magazine and arguing over who was cuter: David Cassidy or Donny Osmond? I was bored out of my mind by these sessions. I wanted my old friends back.

However, I knew that my turn was coming. Sure enough, within a few months I was as fascinated by those XY chromosome holders as the rest of my friends.

I hated the way my emotions starting riding a monthly roller coaster. I cried to my mother that I was going crazy. I really thought I was losing my mind, and I was so scared and dismayed. She assured me that what I was feeling was perfectly normal and that it would probably simmer down as time progressed. Dear Blog, it did.

She also told me that someday I will cease to menstruate (another thing I was hating, along with growing breasts and all that extra body hair). I held onto that thought like a lifeline thrown a drowning soul – YES! Someday I will get my pre-puberty mind back again…someday I will be ME again! Yeah, I’d still be stuck with the breasts and the armpit and pubic hair but I’d be used to them by then, I thought.

Well, naturally and eventually dear Blog, I did come to enjoy being a young woman and all of the pleasures and opportunities that afforded me. But when I was hurting from the actions or words of some male I was involved with or wanted to be with, I often thought of my pre-puberty mind and longed for the day when I no longer cared about their attentions.

I’ve been enjoying having ME back again for some time now. When I see people suffering from the agonies of romantic relationships (or the lack thereof), I feel like the sober, designated driver in a room full of drunks. One who was once a drunk herself.

This is my new theme song, I have decided:

Thanking Goddess every day for waking up feeling this way…Rock on!

The WB

 

 

 

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Dear Blog,

Ya gotta love it when your new boots come with a message.

These are truly the boots for this new era the world has entered into. Some may call it the Dark Ages of Humanity – the Sequel, or the Coming A-Trumpolypse.

I call it a reason for new footwear.

Yes, dear Blog, I did break my Shoe Moratorium…sorta. These being boots and all, I think I could have a pretty solid argument that these don’t qualify as a shoe purchase. (Note from budget-conscious part of brain to self: next time it MUST be called a Footwear Moratorium.)

And dear Blog, please recall that I DID NOT buy any shoes or boots while in Amsterdam…though not for lack of trying. Damn that Birkenstock store at the Albert Cuyp Market for actually closing up shop for vacation…I mean, who in retail does that?!?!

Think about it. You sell SANDALS for a living, and you shutter your shop for almost 3 weeks IN THE SUMMER. WTF???

Anyhoodle, I digress into rant territory when the point I want to make is: I should get credit for superhuman restraint on coming back home without any new shoes. Or boots.

These new boots are my gift to me, I have decided, for surviving 3 years of widowhood and all of the trials, tribulations and shocking revelations that have come with it so far. My excuse story and I’m sticking to it.

Rock on,

The WB

Dear Blog,

As you know yesterday I went public about JD’s cheating, on the 3rd anniversary of his passing (and of my re-birth as The WB).

Since then I’ve been thinking as to my reasons for doing this. I don’t regret it. I think I needed to do this and here’s why:

1. Since the MBA convocation ceremony I attended in June, at which I received degrees for the both of us, I feel like I have fulfilled all of my obligations to my late husband. I made sure he got the recognition he deserved for the effort he put into his studies even as he was dying. I was able to quash my feelings relating to what I know about him now and call up how I felt about him then, when we were in the program together and when we found out about the cancer. I can’t do this anymore because:
2. After that event I noticed my feelings towards him really start to change. For example, I no longer felt upset at our approaching wedding anniversary as I had in the couple of years prior. In fact I feel no love anymore – just empty inside. Maybe this will change over time but I’m not counting on it.
3. His parents are both gone now; his father passed away in early 2015. It must be hard enough to lose a child – I didn’t want to add to his sorrow by telling him what I found out about his son. I didn’t see what purpose it would serve. So I left the old soldier with his happy memories of his boy to comfort him.
4. My mother passed away in December 2015 and I didn’t feel I should be shocking or burdening her with this knowledge when she was already unwell.
5. His sister does not read my blog and is not on social media. See point #3 – not adding to the sorrow applies to her as well. Although I suspect one day we may have this conversation as she could ask a question that precipitates it. Not looking forward to this day.
6. I told my kids and they have been so supportive and empathetic. It has been important in our healing as a family, I feel.
7. My change of feelings about him may become evident in my future postings on this blog and on social media, if it hasn’t already. Mostly, I imagine, by what I am not saying about JD or our marriage anymore. This should explain that change to anybody who might pick up on this.
8. Some people have been very kindly commenting to me about how tragic it is to lose someone you thought of as a soulmate. True, but my dears – you don’t know the half of it. Until now. Yes, I am still a grieving widow but the things I am grieving are not what one would expect. If I can describe my grief in one word, that word is COMPLICATED.
9. It took until just lately for me to process things enough that I could talk about it to a wider audience. Being as introverted as I am, I like to take time to think important stuff through thoroughly if at all possible, before speaking. As there are almost no resources out there for dealing with discovery of infidelity posthumously, this has been difficult for me to sort out on my own.  My thoughts have been all over the map on this one as I try to deal.  Some days they still are. And, ultimately:
10. Almost 3 years later, I feel I am finally ready to open up about this.

Thanks for listening and being there for me, dear Blog.

Rock on,

The WB