Over the weekend, I went to get a hair cut. I had gone in the day before, insisting that I wanted to chop it all off “Up to HERE!” I said, pointing to a place just below my earlobe. Michel, my long-time hairdresser laughed at me and told me she’d make me an appointment for Saturday, and that I better sleep on my idea.
By the time I got to the salon, I wasn’t fully convinced I didn’t want to chop it all off anyway, but she pulled my hair up into clips to remind me what I look like with short hair, and I conceded that she was right, and I was wrong. She cut long layers, and sideswept bangs, then used a chi flat iron (omg) to make it straight and shiny. I don’t think my hair has ever been that straight. I left the salon feeling like hot shit, with my new haircut, and freshly waxed eyebrows.
I stopped by the supermarket to pick up cat food, and who should I run into but the f-tard’s mom and new girlfriend. They drove past me once, then circled around to ask me to lunch. I was feeling pretty smug, since I was fresh from the salon, and they were both in sweats and sneakers. I didn’t stay feeling that way, though, because it actually turned out to be a really nice lunch. I know I’ve mentioned before that I really like Teresa, the new girlfriend, but I really, honestly do like her. She seems like a genuinely good person. She moved across the country to live with him; left her family, pets, and job behind, all to live with a guy that I think is a creep. At the very least I have a lot of respect for her. (Maybe a little pity, too, but it’s hard to pity the girl when she’s so damned happy and in love. Either that, or she’s as good an actress as I was.)
I did, eventually, get back to the supermarket to pick up food for my cat…and being the spoiled little princess she is, she has refused to eat it. It’s the same brand…just a different flavor. I’m not buying her another bag of food, either. She’ll eat it when she gets hungry enough, or she’ll start eating the paint off the walls.
I know I’ve been relatively quiet around here lately, and I apologize for my extended absences…but it seems that every post I write either begins or ends with Edgar, or maybe is only about Edgar…and for some reason I have started to feel this need to keep it to myself. Nothing is black and white, it’s all shades of grey and…complicated. I know I must come off as fickle, but the way I feel seldom changes. The way I react to the way I feel changes often, though, and if I could ever learn to keep my big mouth shut…then the people around me wouldn’t think that my friendship with Edgar was such a roller coaster.
Speaking of…there was a bit of e-drama over the weekend, with a “friend” who has been behaving rather rudely with me lately. Edgar finally asked her to tell him what the problem was…and her issue with me is my age. She’s German, so there’s a bit of a language issue…but in rough translation, she sees me as a Cougar. She’s under the impression that I purposefully sought out a much younger man, in order to find some sort of validation. Anybody who has been reading my blog for the last, ohh, three years or so…can see that I have dated at least 3 younger men. However, I didn’t deliberately set out to date younger men! Specifically, with Edgar, I was already interested in him before I ever found out is age. In fact, he came across as being serious and quiet, and I thought he was much older than he is. (I can look back now, and realize he was probably just tired. The time of day that we usually spoke was late at night for him, or very early in the morning.)
I don’t feel like I have to justify myself to her, but the way that she has been behaving and the things she said about me…it was all just so very uncalled for. She doesn’t like “women like” me. What am I like? She doesn’t even know me for Christs sake!
Ultimately, I think it boils down to what a lot of people think (and will continue to think); I’m too old for Edgar, and he can do much better. I don’t feel like my age is that much of an issue…but I do often think he could do much better. Not that it truly matters, because I don’t need to remind anyone that Edgar and I aren’t together anymore. I shouldn’t care what other people think, because they’re only judging from the outside, and if someone wants to judge me for being an older friend, then that is their prerogative.
I haven’t updated my dream blog lately either, and I’ve had some really strange dreams lately. Babies are still a dominant theme, but I did have one yesterday that involved meeting my mom and grandmother at a 7-eleven where they were selling handmade quilts and afghans. I’ll blame the dreams on my medicine, and go to bed to have more.
Happy Monday.
