The Eulogy

by Honey

I met him through my husband. They were childhood friends. Their mothers, who attended church together, were pregnant together. They even went to the same babysitter. He is my husband’s oldest friend.

When he introduced me to his wife, we hit it off immediately. We bonded over identical experiences in dealing with our husbands. In time, we became like sisters. And as our husbands behaved like brothers, this was ok. When he wanted to surprise her, he would ask me to find out her favorite perfume, or help him pick out a purse she would like. He would even beg me to wrap it because I am an awesome gift wrapper, if I do say so myself.

When he & his wife would have relationship issues, she would vent to me. Although sometimes the things that she would tell me would make me want to rip out his heart, I would listen and tell her all the right things, like: “whatever you do, you have my support.” …Or “This is YOUR relationship and nobody can tell you how to feel about xyz situation. Do what’s best for YOU”…It took me some time, but I learned to listen without judging. But this time, I am totally putting my objectivity aside. This time, you’ve gone too far.

This weekend, I watched as he had her served with a restraining order against him and her children. Not because he really believed that she was a danger to her babies who she loves more than herself, but because he was punishing her for refusing to bend to his will. I stood there, helpless as he tried to trump up reasons for having called the police. Spankings, he says. Spankings that the police officer forced him to admit were given because the child had it coming for being disobedient. Spankings that the police officer told him SHE would have given if it had been her child.

I sat there on the couch in horror as he told them to serve her because she refused to talk to him. This would be AFTER he instigated an argument that left her hysterically crying because she couldn’t understand why he would say the things you did. It took 2 people SIX hours to calm her down enough so that she could fall asleep.

I’m leaving some stuff out. But the important part? She didn’t deserve this, that he actually said “No, she is not abusive to her kids”, that he is wrecking his THREE children’s lives because of a temper tantrum… is here for the world to see.

Children are a Mother’s heart. We give them life, we love them before they are born and we would give our lives for them. For him to block her from her children as revenge for a deserved response to his foolishness is unforgivable. SHE has never…even when she would say he was a horrible HUSBAND, never EVER maligned him as a father.

I interpret this action as emotional terrorism. This one act had turned a more or less impartial observer into his sworn enemy. I will do whatever I can to reunite her with her kids, and if it manages to destroy him in the process, it would be no more than he deserves.

Consider ME the judge AND the jury. Consider THIS post as his funeral. He is now dead to me.

Honey

An Offer I Did Refuse

(Original photo stolen from ritzichick85 on Flickr)

by Honey

She was the friend that I told everything to. When I was having all sorts of problems at home, she was the person who knew all the nitty gritty details. And they were nitty AND gritty. Believe me. I knew that I could tell her anything and she would not judge me. She listened, and that was all I needed. I didn’t ask for her opinion, and she didn't give one. I just needed an ear.

Because, the truth be told, I went a little crazy. I look back at those times and am completely shocked at how crazy the things I’d done were. And if I’m going to be honest; and I may as well, I’ll never see you at my PTA meetings (or will I?). I did a few things I was ashamed of. One of which was a three-some. Which I’m not going to describe except to say, I had one, and I told my friend about it. My friend, whose husband I hate. Because I told her everything.

A few months later, a few of us girls decided to go to Las Vegas for a girls’ weekend in Las Vegas. All of us needed to get away, and what could be better than a place that invites you to forget about your troubles and have some fun? I was still in my own personal hell at home, and she, well…she and her husband were on the outs AGAIN. She said he had his knickers in a knot about who-knows-what, and so was not speaking to her. I said well, come to Vegas and we can all hang out and gamble and drink and maybe even go to the spa. They had a really nice one in our hotel.

We go over to the spa to book our massages. They tell us, can’t squeeze you in until later in the day. So we make our appointments, and go down for some gambling. We drink a little too much. We were on the tables where you drink for free. I wasn’t drinking quite as much as the rest of the ladies because I was beginning to worry that I was using it as an escape hatch to do ridiculous things. So when my friend asked me to take her to the bathroom, I took her. I knew that she had been drinking way more than I, and I thought really she needed help. She was pretty drunk, and babbling about how much she loved me, and I was her best friend. And then she kissed me. Not like a “I love my best friend” kiss. Really laid it on me. I was COMPLETELY in shock. I didn’t know what to say. But she was so drunk that I don’t think she noticed, because she went on to say that her husband hasn’t touched her in so long, and she really wanted to be with somebody…and I just stood there. Mute. I was saved because somebody else came in looking for us because we’d been gone for a while.

There were 5 of us on that girls trip. She and I had reserved a double massage, so that we could talk alone about what was going on with our respective relationships in private. I had hoped that she would be too drunk to remember that she’d hit on me when we went back up for our massages. She wasn’t. She went on to say that it would be perfect because they would never guess, and if one or both of them got out of line, we had somebody to turn to. Somebody safe, somebody I already know. We’re both women, we know what we like… She’d been watching "The L Word," she could show me some things. (I’m STILL not sure what that meant…I’ve never seen that show, and I don’t think there is anything wrong with being lesbian, except you know…I’m not one. Nothing wrong with that, either)

I hurt her feelings. She said she came to me because she knows I am a curious kind, and thought that maybe I would be interested since I was in such a state of upheaval. I told her that I loved her AS MY FRIEND, and I was unwilling to complicate that with sex. (Why couldn’t I have said that in the OTHER situations?) Not to mention, it would change my friendship with her AND the way I thought of her. The three-some I had earlier? Never looked at him the same way, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t think of me the same as well. Sad, because we had been friends since we were young, but a lesson learned.

I felt bad that she was embarrassed and hurt, but I knew at that point, I had turned a corner. I was no longer thinking with my genitals or my bruised heart. I had come to realize there were consequences to my actions, even if they weren’t the ones I thought they’d be. And even though she said she’d never judge me, she did. She tried to take advantage of my vulnerability. Also sad, because it did ultimately change my view of her anyway.

We’re still friends, though not as close. I don’t really discuss my relationship with my husband with her anymore. I leave any nitty gritty details, and how I feel about them, to a therapist to deal with. And if she needs me to listen to her, I listen – even if I can’t always hear her because I’m screaming on the inside. But I try to keep those judgments to myself, because I know that when I was hurting, that was what I needed. I doubt we’ll ever be the same as we were, but that’s okay, because I’m actually a little bit grateful. I don’t know that I would have snapped back as quickly to who I really am if I hadn’t seen who SHE thought I was. And the thought of that person being the REAL me was too scary to consider.

Reason #473 to Use Bartender Face

(Photo stolen from this site)

by Honey

Because I hate your husband. I really, REALLY do.

You’re a nice person, mostly. But some times, I want to tear my hair out listening to the asshole things your husband does. And it is true asshole behavior. Leaving you to suffer through a miscarriage alone? Getting mad at you when he finally gets you pregnant again, after HOUNDING you to have another baby? Not because he wanted 3 kids, but because he wanted to try one last time for a boy. He is not only an asshole, he is also the whole ass.

Even though he knows I only see my husband on the weekends, he without fail, calls EARLY Saturday morning, to see if he’s up and out of bed. If he doesn’t answer the phone, he is not above doing a drive by on us, because he thinks that HE is more important than my husband spending time with his wife. I know that he and my husband have been friends since their momma’s were pregnant with them, but holy hell. He spends more Saturday mornings at our house than he does his own. WTF? Yes, they’re friends. But my husband does NOT feel the need to run away from home as soon as the sun comes up; he WANTS to spend time with me. Quiet as it’s kept; he enjoys spending time with me. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t see me often, but whatever. I will take what I can get. I would appreciate it if you could tie your husband to the bed, couch, a tree outside, whatever… just one Saturday morning. Please.

And now, he’s hitting on your friends.

Friend #1 – he called at her house to tell her that she had nice feet. When she called him out on his B.S. he claims “his friend” told him to tell her that.

Friend #2 -- you had a party at your house and your husband spent all night slapping her on the ass. I had to tell MY husband – her cousin, who pulled him aside, to get him to stop. His excuse that time? I didn’t think anybody noticed.

ME -- he goosed me and you saw him and made him apologize. He just said he was too drunk to remember, but he was sorry because you were upset. His words. (Nevermind ME being upset. I didn’t want his hands grabbing my ass either, but…whatever)

We haven’t said anything to you YET because you will rabidly defend any and all negative comments regarding your husband, even though you know he’s a jerk. You want to convince us, and most likely yourself, that he’s a good guy, a NICE guy, instead of who he really is: A SELFISH guy who has no respect for your relationship or anybody else’s. And he is a guy who is looking for an opportunity to screw your friends. Quite frankly, I don’t believe this has escaped your notice, because you made me an offer I could totally refuse. (But that is a story for ANOTHER Bartender Face entry.)

Why I’m telling Bartender Face instead of writing this on my own blog? Because even though my husband says he doesn’t read my blog (and I believe him because he is totally uninterested in my weird ramblings), the one time he WILL read it would be the time I write about how much I hate his oldest friend.

Carrie Bradshaw Is Right

by Honey



(Photo stolen from this guy)

Carrie Bradshaw is right.

There is no polite way to stop phone sex.

It started not so innocently. I had an affair. A big huge RAGING affair. To be fair, it started off as a retaliation fuck, since my significant other & I started having problems (meaning, I was having a PROBLEM with his screwing around). Mr. Jump Off was 7 years younger than I, a huge flirt and engaged to be married. We started off as friends, I can’t even remember how we met, but we immediately liked each other. Could be because I am also a ginormous flirt and loved to fluff his…ego. (we were FRIENDS, remember?) And I will admit to getting a huge charge out of flirting, and being flirted with. I was emotional and craving attention. I can’t lie, I am an attention WHORE.

He made it so easy because he had laying down game since we met. He paid me PLENTY of attention. I had the softest skin, the prettiest legs, and the nicest lips. He was so fine I wanted to drink his bathwater. And considering I am a germaphobe of the highest order, that’s saying a lot. And we hung out because

1. I had lots of free time
2. He was a pretty cool kid, aside from the flirting
3. He always paid and he wanted to do whatever I wanted to do. There was also
4. I didn’t need my guard up because I was POSITIVE there was no real attraction there, just friendship.

I almost didn’t see it coming. We went out in the summer, my husband had to “work late” …again. We went down to the beach because I was homesick, and I’m always cheered up and/or calmed when I’m near the ocean. It was late, we were walking & talking and before I was even sure of what happened, we weren’t walking OR talking anymore. And me? It was one of the best lays I ever had; I’m not sure if it was because I needed to feel close to somebody or if he was THAT. DAMN.GOOD. Either way, May I have another orgasm, please? (For the record, he was that damn good, even though I wanted to feel close to somebody.)

After that, he’d call me when he got lonely and I’d use my phone sex operator voice and we’d talk about the things we planned to do the next time. I have been blessed/cursed with a vivid imagination, and I can also be turned on by the sound of someone’s voice, if it’s smooth enough., and Mr. Jump Off was smoooth.

He got married on my 8th anniversary. He brought me back a shot glass from their honeymoon. When he came back we had hot monkey sex in my office late one night. Our affair ended after one more month. We felt bad that we were messing around and he was newly married, so we decided to stay friends, no benefits. My husband was trying to make amends for his asshole behavior, and Mr. Jump Off put me on equal (if lowering) footing with the husband.

But for some reason, even though Mr. Jump Off & I never had real life sex again, even though we occasionally met for dinner and a movie, the phone sex never stopped. He would call me and tell me in that sexy, smooth voice to say he was bored and didn’t have anybody to talk to, what was I doin’…and then…”Do you remember how much I loooove your legs?” Mmmmm hmmm…It’s a slippery slope, ladies & gentlemen. And before you know it, you’re right back on the bottom. ::SIGH:: His voice was so seductive to me, and I could picture, his mouth and then, well…then it’s too late because I don’t WANT to stop.

Recently though, I told Mr. Jump Off that I’m putting the phone sex on Hiatus (which in LA speak is the first step to your show being cancelled). The husband & I are doing okay, and we are doing our best to keep it that way. I’m pretty sure that the husband would not like to know somebody else is getting me off AT&T style. And it’s been a while, a LONG while…

But yesterday, he called me before I was completely awake and started with the “good morning, baby” talk… And the minute I heard his voice, I could feel the girly parts getting soft, and I rolled over…and dropped the call.

I guess it’s good my phone is a piece of crap because I am at my most vulnerable when I’m waking up, which is something Mr. Jump Off knows, which is why he probably woke up 3 hours early to catch me still in bed. And I KNOW cutting off the phone sex is a wise decision, but if my call hadn’t dropped…would I have said no? Would I have been able to interject with a no, thank you? I’m glad I didn’t have to find out.

Still taking it one phone call at a time.

That’s my story y’all. I’ll pay for my drink and whoever is up next.