Damn My Ex 

so marie, my then wife, and i went to a fast food seafood place.  you know short bob gold’s, and she tells me to get her extra hushpuppies.  so i come back with our order and extra hushpuppies (3).  she flips out, flips out!

apparently,extra means at least a dozen.  what did i end up getting her to get her to shut up?? two dozen, that’s 24 hushpuppies “on the side”.

and you thought this post was about boobs.

so marie and i are sitting in the bed of her truck after class let out, just talking like normal.  we’d been seeing each other for a couple of weeks.  nothing had happened yet, but, ya know- i was hoping.

she drops this bomb on me: “my baby’s daddy called from my old hometown.”

“uh-huh, did you tell him to go to hell?”

“i was gonna, but he asked me what my ring size is.  so now we’re engaged, but nothing’s changed between us.”

so after marie and i broke up, she says, “i’m so glad we didn’t do a whole lot.”

“why?”

“well, if i want to get intimate with a guy, i have to go to the doctor first.”

“again, WHY?”

“since i have general warts and all”

one, that’s something you should’ve shared with me during our relationship.  two, yes, i, too, am glad we didn’t get too far.  third, don’t you mean genital?

UPDATE:  i ran into marie’s dad this weekend.  she got knocked up right after we broke up.  yes, he got her “general warts”, too.   nothing like community property, huh?

i was working as a server when a stack of pans in the back of house fell on my head. obviously, i was in pain.  worse than that, though, i was getting disoriented and confused.  probably a concussion, right?  so i call my then fiance, john, who was of all things, a nurse.

i explain to john what happened and asked him to take me to the hospital so i wouldn’t have to pay for an ambulance. (i know, i know, my employer should’ve done that.  what can i say? i was 21 and stupid.)

his response? basically, what the hell was i thinking, why did it go and do something so stupid, did i know he just got home from work and was really tired, did i have to go right now, and could he get something to eat first.

he finally picks me up and drops me off at the hospital, after he stopped at a drive-thru. yeah, he dropped me off.  he tells me later that i was probably faking and i wasted his time.  i was stupid to go to the ER, and i was going to have to pay for it.

i’m fine, thanks for asking, honey.

marie ate a lot. A LOT.  i mean, two gooey butter cakes by herself in one sitting.  an entire tub of meringue cookies.  unbaked muffins.  you know, just the batter?  uncooked pie crust.  a real health nut.

post-divorce, we’re talking on the phone.

“by the way, my doctor told me that i’m hypoglycemic,” she tells me.

my thought, you eat so damn much, how can you tell?

so marie starts getting child support checks.  she decides to spend it on whatever she wants.  so she buys two gooey butter cakes.  you know, the essentials.

she goes into her room, and eats them both.

she comes back out with the empty boxes.  i ask if she really ate them both.

“yeah, is that a lot?”

so marie had a daughter, my step-daughter.  her baby’s daddy finally started paying child support.  my thought is, okay, that money will so help pay the bills.  food, rent, electric, etc.  nope.

marie says that since the check came in her name, she could do whatever the hell she wants with it.

ok.  so i started charging her rent.  time to pay up.

my ex, marie, was an absolute bitch.  she thought of no one but herself, and didn’t hesitate to make others do work that she was perfectly capable of doing.

so we’re all at Lenny’s, the 24-hour diner.  like 8 or 9 of us.  marie orders the chili cheese fries.  it comes out, and the bacon is sitting right on top.  whole.  in strips.  no one thinks anything of it.  we’re talking, laughing, and smoking like normal, and marie waves down the waitress.

“my bacon isn’t crumbled.’” the poor waitress looks at us, like, “is she for real?”  we’re just like “yes, she is, and she’s not with us.  please don’t spit in our food.”

yep.  marie made her take the appetizer back, have the cooks remake it, and bring a new one.  bitch.

marie refused to eat mac n’ cheese. REFUSED. i thought she just didn’t like it.  after all, this was a woman who claimed to be lactose intolerant so she wouldn’t have to drink milk, but could easily down an entire cheesecake by herself.

nope.  turns out, she had a babysitter or something who would make mac n’ cheese and then make her watch pippi longstocking, and marie didn’t like the movie.  my thought is, okay, don’t watch the flick!  no, poor, poor, marie just refused to eat mac n’ cheese instead. (of course, every time she saw it, heard someone mention it, or even thought of it, she just had to go over the whole damn story like you had never heard it before)

so after four years of engagement, john tells me i was really just a roommate to him.

he made me pay for half of everything.  he wouldn’t let me go back to school for a degree, said i couldn’t afford it, so i worked lousy jobs for very little $$$ just so i could pay my half of the rent and utilities, but he could go out to eat four times a week.  he had a secret porn stash. he had a secret p.o. box so he could get his videos.  he was a nurse that made more than i ever could.   he had cable, which i couldn’t watch since he paid the whole bill.  he drove a brand new car.  he knocked my up three times and stressed me out so bad i miscarried them all.  i got all hell from my family for dating a black guy.  I chose him over them for “love”.

i could just see the ad he placed to help with the bills:

WANTED: 22 year old SWF, 5′ 4″, 110 pounds, DD-cups a plus to share a bed with.  rent is 50% of mortgage.  utilities split 50/50.  Must be willing to turn life upside down for me with little to no love or romance in return.  Those who have self-respect or want to improve themselves need not respond.