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As if you care about my dating life! But since you're reading this dating blog....

Wednesday, January 11, 2006
Last Friday's Blog Post Was Supposed to be Funny 

It was supposed to be about my last year of dating. I had it all planned in my head Thursday night. And then I woke up Friday morning to the sound of my cell phone ringing (actually it's my dad's cell phone). And God, I couldn't help myself, I hoped it was my Dad calling to wish me Happy Birthday on his cell phone. Which is a feat that could only be possible if my life were the movie Frequency, since my Father passed away a few months ago.
Cheer up, in a few years we'll all laugh about this
When I was younger I used to wish that I could turn back time on the day that I slid into the 8th grade dance and someone yelled "Safe!" and everyone laughed. But now I just wish I could turn back time and have my dad back.

If I could turn back the time, I wouldn't have flown to New York and found the "Woman Still in Denial About How She Hurt Her Family By Leaving Without A Word in the Middle of the Night" (aka: my mother) in the airport - who I noticed was wearing blue nail polish (had my mother become a hoochie in her old age?) - with her "male friend".

If I could turn back the time, when I arrived at my brother's house (where I thought I was staying) my brother wouldn't have flipped the script on me and told me that I would be staying with "The Woman Who Gave Birth To Me" because we should "talk". What the fuck?! Had my homecoming for my dad's Memorial become some sorta "You Need To Make Up With Your Mother" Intervention? Ahh, seemed so.

Back at "The House Where I Was Forced to Pretend That My Mother Could be Motherly" (ie: My grandma's house) I promptly fell asleep. Hoping that "sleep" could help me avoid awkward conversations with "mother".

If I could turn back the time, I' wouldn't have been dressing in black clothing to attend a Memorial at a church since my dad did not believe in churches... I wouldn't have been whisked away to said Memorial service, where my dad's ashes lay in a green Urn up front. Or so I thought until I realized that the ashes weren't in the urn. Why? Well my mother's church Fucked up and didn't get the body cremated in time.

So there I was at a Memorial service I didn't want to be at, in a church my dad would have never stepped foot in with a "mother" who I can't stand to be in the same room with, who is telling me that I shouldn't make a big deal about the "no ashes in the urn" situation since, it's her "church and all". I looked at my brother hoping he would feel me on this one, but he was avoiding all eye contact with me - guilty from making me stay with that woman I guess.

I fixed my eyes on the fake chandelier in the room filled with horrible carnations and hoped that I would stay so mad that I wouldn't cry. And then I turned around and saw that I'd have some help staying mad. Why? Because seven rows back sat the man who my mother cheated on my dad with for many years. Who lived around the corner from my family at the time, who pretended to be my dad's friend while screwing my mother, who my mother had my brother and I calling uncle.

Funny thing though, seems I was the only one angry that this dude was at my dad's Memorial. What the fuck?! Everyone else around me seemed to talk to him like he was some family friend. I had to have stepped off that plane and into my own Twilight Zone episode. One where this bastard who caused my family pain is welcomed in like kin. One where everyone looks at the one person who objects (in this case - me) like they are out of their mind. Like in this parallel reality it doesn't make sense that I would be openly hostile toward the man who caused my dad pain.

So I stared at the fake chandelier. Somewhere between the "Those who don't believe in Jesus as the Holy Whatever will burn in hell" and the hallelujahs (did I mention that my dad didn't believe that Jesus was his Holy Whatever?) I started hoping that there'd be rum punch at the after service. Lots and lots of rum punch. Because: 1. I was finally an adult and 2. I needed to be very drunk, very quickly.

Yes, there was rum punch. And there was an argument about me smoking on the steps of the church (it was my mother's church after all). And there was a moment when even though I wished I could jam my cigarette into his eye, I calmly had a conversation with The Man Who Had The Nerve to Show Up at My Dad's Memorial. And there was a full on shouting match between Me and my Mother and Brother (nothing new there). And then there was the last straw, when I asked to be taken to my dad's place so that I could collect some of his things for my return flight home, and my mother told me that I'd have to wait until tomorrow (to punish me).

So I got a ride back to my grandmother's house and watched my brother yell at me as the car drove off. I had a quick conversation with my grandmother and called a cab. When the cab pulled up, I saw my dad's cell phone and grabbed it. I guess I just wanted something he touched - anything at all really - to remind me of him other than my memories. As the cab drove me back to the airport, I thought about stopping at the beach. Couldn't you just see it, me in funeral clothing on a beach with carry on luggage.

If I could turn back the time, my dad wouldn't have passed away and I wouldn't have spent my entire birthday wishing that I could hear his voice again and this blog post would have been funny.

The Mad Dater - Later kids

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