Gypsy Curse?

 Well….  It’s been an interesting few months.  

I’m starting to think there is something chemically different with me.    I’ve been a magnet for crazy people and situations for so long, that it can’t just be coincidence.   Maybe I’ve been cursed by gypsies.  Or my life is under some sort of strong Hoodoo spell.  There is most certainly some kind of extreme situation jinx placed on my soul, that I’m positive of.  

My most recent trouble?  Well, my husband of a few months got busted emailing dirty messages to another MAN.  Then, he ran off with some hot little stripper.  I’m not sure what stung me more, honestly.  The fact that I felt that I drove him gay (which made me insecure as hell in the bedroom), or the fact that the woman he picked over me, his wife, was ten times hotter than my dorky ass will ever be.  

When I discovered what was going on, I attempted to confront him.  I had been badly betrayed, but I loved my husband with my whole heart and I wanted to work things out.  I remember sitting on the kitchen counter begging him to tell me what was going on or how to fix it.  Instead, my husband packed up his clothes, head butted me, and walked out of the house.  To this day, I’ve never seen him again.  Doesn’t mean he hasn’t taken great care to remind me that he’s still around, though….

The next day following his move out, while I was at work, he took everything out of our house.  And I do mean everything.  Dishes.  Mustard.  Tv.  Movies.  Bed.  My clothes.  The ice trays.  Couch.  He drained our bank account by pulling every penny out.  And, to top it off, he changed his telephone number.  I came home to 3 of the biggest of our four hundred pound dogs, my smashed computer, a hateful note, and nothing else.  Still, no answer as to why my marriage had become such a nightmare so quickly. 

Hours turn into days.  Days into weeks.  Weeks into months.  Still, I heard nothing from the husband I still loved.  His friends, however, were more than happy to send me updates on the latest news, even things I hated hearing.  Apparently he has been diagnosed as Bi Polar and manic depressive as well as having major anxiety.  Honestly, none of that was a shock.  I was told that he was back on meth (Something I’ve never done, nor been around anyone who used meth) and that his girlfriend is a huge raver chick who’s a major pill popper.  Apparently his drinking has gotten so bad that he’s racked up another DUI.  This will be his 4rth.  Some of his own family have decided that their lives are better without him in it and have, therefore, cut him off.   They have gone as far as to ask me if I would assist them in having him institutionalized.  I declined. 

After several months, I realized that mental disability or not, he had cheated on me, hit me, lied to me, stolen from me, robbed me, belitted me, and most certainly did not deserve me.  I began to pick up my pieces, and I began dating.  Oh my lord, dating has been a tragedy upon itself.  I went on a string of the worlds worst first dates.

First, there was the blind date with the midget.  Not kidding.  And it wasn’t funny.  When a man grabs your hand, and you realize that it’s half the size of yours, and he’s drop dead serious about dating you, somewhere, a kitten dies.  No joke.  

The second date I had was with this hot young handyman from work.  I was having a house party and he was suppose to swing by with some of his friends.  I was kinda excited b/c he was pretty damn good looking and of ordinary height and a good job.  Imagine my surprise when the hot guy at my very professional office, arrived at my house to spend time with me the FIRST TIME outside of work, with a bag of coke and a bong.  And lord, he didn’t stop there.  His mouth just wouldn’t stay closed and not one sane or normal thing came out of it.  I was in complete shock.  That cute guy from work was nothing like anyone imagined.  He was 21 and had already spent time in PRISON for ARSONY.  Here we all thought he was 27, 28, and in college.  Lord were we wrong.  

Weeks later, I was standing on the elevator and the druggie from work got on with me.  He blushed, just a little, and pulled out his phone and began to text feverishly on it.  About that time, my phone beeped and the elevator doors opened.  I stepped off right as I read two texts from him.  "I’m still avalible, by the way (Sic)" and "Let me know when our next akward elevator ride is.  I’ll be there.".  Haha.  I’ve never spoken with him since that night at my house.  Just those two texts.

I thought I had learned a ton from those first two awful dates.  So, I came up with standards.  I wanted a tall, athletic, good boy.  No more of this bad boy crap.  Once again, my wonderful friends came to me with "the perfect good guy".  I talked to #3 a little over the computer and phone and he seemed like such a genuine, good guy.  I felt absolutely no pressure from him sexually and felt completely comfortable when he invited me over for a movie.  Before half the movie was over, I realized why I hadn’t felt any pressure from him at all.  He was a virgin.  Honest to God.  I was on a movie date with a virgin.  Holy crap.  

Now, first off, I’d like to say, that’s wonderful.  I’m super happy for him.  I wish I had stayed a virgin a little while longer than I was.  While I have a lot of respect for him for his status as a virgin, I absolutely did not want to date a virgin.  

The 4th date I went on was with a guy who had given me his number at a gas station.  He taught softball to girls and had very handsome eyes.  He had goals, height, didn’t a

ppear to be a virgin, and he seemed to have himself together.   I had hope that guy #4 could be a good date.  He aimed a bit higher than just a second date and proposed to me halfway through dinner.  He wasn’t kidding.  

Durring the small talk we made over nachos while waiting on our food to arrive, this man had decided that I should be the mother of his first child, as well as his wife.  And if I could call into work the next morning we could just run up to the courthouse and get hitched.  

I excused myself to the ladies room, ran out of the side exit, and didn’t answer my phone for the next several days.  However, to this day, I still get random texts from him asking if we can talk.  Ummmm…..  no.

At this point, I decided that I no longer wanted to date anyone.  I was done.   There was not going to be crappy date #5.  That’s when I got into my first semi serious relationship after my husband left.  A former coworker of mine messaged me on facebook and asked me if I wanted to have a drink, chat, and catch up on life.

Now, this guy was my buddy.  Granted, I had a crush on him when we first started working together, but over the years it had changed into just a friendship.  He and I could sit down and laugh and talk about anything and everything for hours.  We could have the entire break room rolling for the entire fifteen minutes we were out there together.  He was my friend.  Never, in a zillion years, did I expect anything to happen.

Well, this is me we’re talking about.  So, of course, I go hang out with my buddy, that use to date a former friend of mine, and I have NO INTENTION of doing anything with him at all…. and I end up leaving the next morning.

To say that we sparked that night is an understatement.  We laughed and joked and talked till well after the sun came up.  The sexual tension was amazing.  I don’t like to be someone that kisses and tells, but it was nice to wake up in someone’s arms again.  That was the highlight of our relationship, right there.  It’s like having sex with me voided out the sanity in him.  He went nuts.  My friends called him a "stage 5 clinger".  He was constantly calling me, texting me, swinging by, coming to my work.  The last time we had sex, he pulled the condom off before orgasming.  He openly admitted that he did so with the hope of impregnating me, thus tying me to him forever.  

He stalked me for the longest time.  He would show up at my house and beat on my doors, call me over and over again, have his friends call me…  It was just too much.