It seems like it’s been years since I’ve posted anything; however, it’s only been about two and a half months. I don’t know why I keep putting this off, because writing is one of few things that helps clear my mind and maintain my sanity. I suppose for the most part I actually do fear that my soon to be ex might actually come across this little space of mine and misinterpret my expressions.
Ha! Misinterpret indeed though. He, who thought that beating me to the courthouse to file for divorce was a wonderful way to “get my attention.” As if that wasn’t enough, he also decided that filing for an Order of Protection against me with false allegations would ensure him sole custody of our daughter. Expectant as he was of me to go crawling back after receiving each petition, I did not. Instead, we met in court. My attorney made swiss cheese of his allegations and his Order of Protection was promptly dismissed. To top it all off though, he left a lasting impression on the judge (who presided over the OFP hearing and will preside over the entirety of the divorce).
I hoped that he would come to his senses (if he had any at all) once the OFP was dismissed. No, unfortunately he did not. Things have just gotten uglier. He is attempting to alienate our daughter from me and was constantly badmouthing me to my extended family.
The temporary hearing that we both attended two weeks ago put a stop to the direct badmouthing; however, he is slowly gaining on the parental alienation. It’s extremely upsetting. There’s absolutely no excuse as to how a four year old could learn to tell her mother that she’s a bad person or that the child hates her mother. I am trying my hardest to get through to our daughter and help her through this difficult situation. My only consolations are the love that I have for our daughter and the knowledge that the divorce will be final soon enough.
I met up with a longtime friend last week, Peter. His wife recently left him and now he’s attempting to adjust back into the single life. We both mused over the women that he recently met, each of whom he playfully compared to and rejected as his ideal mate. One was too crazy, the other too ambitious, yet another too unmotivated, and so on. Despite the fact that none of these women were the kind that he planned on having a serious relationship with, he readily admitted that all of them were bed-worthy. I laughed at his newfound rakish ways as I drained the last of my coffee before bidding him farewell and good luck.
On my way out of the Cafe, I ran into an acquaintance. She profusely apologized for nearly knocking me over before coyly asking about my relation to Peter. I nonchalantly replied that I had known him since College and we were just commiserating over the collapses of our marriages.
Her eyes shined as she pulled me aside to ask if Peter had mentioned their blossoming relationship. I tried not to show my confusion as I hesitated with a reply. Before I could make up a sufficient lie, she quickly expressed her concern for Peter’s lack of calling her back despite the 30 or so messages that she had left for him the day before. “Oh,” I finally said upon the realization that she was the crazy one, “don’t be too let down if things don’t work out, he might be gay.”
She frowned before nodding her head in understanding and replying, “No wonder he’s been avoiding me despite the great sex. That explains everything.”
Month end meetings at the office are always murder. The fearless leader of our department commences each meeting by distributing a grammatical and spelling error ladened agenda–it’s the sort of “paper” that English teachers have nightmares about. She then proceeds through the meeting by loudly shrieking her points and brandishing her managerial status by speaking only in first person. Whenever anyone has a question or comment, she automatically replies with an annoyed raised voice emphasizing her contempt for such incompetence.
Obviously it’s our fault that we don’t understand the run-on sentences, misspellings and sentence fragments that she plastered all over the pointless agenda. 
Come on, it’s always the fault of the little office staffers. That is made evident when additional questions and comments are rebuffed with screaming 
.
I’m surprised that no one has sneaked in a recorder and forwarded a copy to HR. I’m even more surprised that I haven’t done so myself because these meetings are the kind of gold that office lawsuits are made of. As I reflect on this more though, I realize that I refrain from doing so because I cynically enjoy the show that is put on during these lost 40-50 minutes. I usually pass the time by counting how many times she says “I,” mentally rearranging her face, or spelling obscenities on the white board behind her head.
I suppose there are much worse things that could happen to me aside from having to deal with an asshole once a month for longer than 10 minutes. 
Definitely worse things, like watching the ridiculously stupid and bad horror movie, “Shrieker.” That was the worst waste of 80 minutes of my life that I will never have back. But it’s rather ironic because the Shrieker Killer reincarnation resembles our fearless leader quite nicely, not just in name either.
