I won’t make the obligatory ‘Hump Day’ reference, it’s old and tired. Much like myself.

It should be another uneventful day. I’m supposed to work a bike show tonight, but it looks like rain and I doubt it will happen. No boobies for me.

I received an email from a guy I went to high school with today. He found me via one of those reunion/classmate thingies. He’s planning our 20 year reunion for next year. Yep, 20 years. Seems like 20,000. He lived across the street from me so we were pretty good friends until high school when he went his way and I mine. From his myspace profile, he looks about the same, save the fact that he is balding. Thank god no one in any part of my family is bald. I have enough self esteem issues without adding that. He’s still single, never been married, no kids, lives alone. I have to wonder what that is like. And, what that’s all about. It almost seems as though you would have to go out of your way to try to avoid marriage and reach 37 years old. Who knows? Maybe he’s gay. I doubt it, but you never know. He’s a nice guy and that’s all that matters.


Lady Red Light mentioned in a comment that she had some fantastic meatball subs from a place in Steubenville. That’s the one thing about Columbus I don’t like. The lack of good ethnic food places. Don’t get me wrong, there are some good restaurants. But it’s not like in the older cities like Youngstown, Cleveland, Steubenville. Columbus has a lot of nice restaurants, but not a lot of good family owned places. Hell, there wasn’t good Italian in Columbus up until 10 years ago. It’s getting better, but it’s not there yet. Columbus doesn’t have the ethnic heritage that those other cities do. Sure, there’s German Village, but that’s it. And German food ain’t all that. Although Schmidt’s lunch buffet is damn good. We have Italian Village here in Columbus, but it is comprised of a Catholic Church and some old townhomes. No restaurants, no delis, nothing like that. Ever been to Little Italy in Cleveland? Mangiamo! There is no Little Italy in Youngstown, half the town is Italian. But there are also Poles, Hungarians, Russians, Germans, Jews, etc. Everyone there can name the country their families came from.
Columbus? I doubt most have a clue. The immigrant-based population that did move in has done so in the last 20 years or so. And now, there is going to be a huge part of the population that is Latino, Asian and African. Now it’s getting some spice.


I said I’d talk about what happened with my second wife. I suppose this is as good a time as any. I’m going to call her ‘Curly’ because she had curly hair and I don’t feel like typing ‘bitch’ that many times.

So I met Curly not long after I separated from my first wife. I was living with a guy I worked with and she worked there also. She was 21 when I met her, I was 25 or 26, I think. I thought she was cute and sweet and fun. I talked to her a long time before I started thinking about asking her out. I didn’t think she’d want to go out with a guy who was separated from his wife with two kids. And as we talked, she mentioned to me that her roommate, who also worked there, didn’t think it would be a good idea for her either. So I pretty much dropped it. We became pretty good friends and still hung out together.
Then, I did what any guy in my place would do. I slept with her roommate. Now her, I will call bitch. Bitch was different than curly. Bitch was very smart and had a similar sense of humor as myself. She had a great body but she wasn’t as cute as Curly. We got drunk one night and ended up doing it. It turned into one of those bad relationships you read about in magazines. We were horrible for each other but stuck together for some reason. She cheated on my constantly, I worshipped her for some reason. I was drinking a lot, swinging in and out of depression, going through all the shit with my divorce; basically I was a mess. She was no picture of togetherness either. She was moody and had bouts of depression too. She had a crappy relationship with her family. We were just ugly together. Curly listened to me complain about the bitch all the time. She, on the other hand, started dating some young kid, about 18. She and I would talk for hours on the phone. Her boyfriend would be out with his friends and the bitch would most likely be out cheating on me. I feel weird talking about this because not that many people know this happened. Curly ended up getting pregnant by the young punk. He wanted nothing to do with her after that. He and I nearly got into a fight about it at one point. She ended up getting an abortion. The bitch and I loaned her the money and I ended up taking her and taking care of her afterward. It was a rough experience for her, as you would expect, and she couldn’t tell her family.

Anyways, so time goes by and the bitch and I eventually break up. I start banging every chick I meet, work with or come in contact with. Curly moves on and finds a decent guy and starts dating him. They date for a long time. She and I are still friends, but don’t talk near as much. I’m living in my own downward spiral. It gets to the point where I end up drinking a couple of bottle of wines and a couple of bottle of pills. I end up in a hospital. I was incredibly lonely at that point. I didn’t want to involve my family, had no relationship going, the ex wasn’t speaking to me, it was miserable and sad. But at one day at the hospital I got a phone call. I never got any phone calls. It was Curly. She was just calling to see how I was doing and she told me she loved me. Now she meant in that friendly way, but it meant the world to me at that time. I guess it was from that point on that I was in love with her. Love love. But she was with someone and I steered clear.

Well, it finally happened that she broke up with her boyfriend. I had moved to Kentucky for work and we talked on the phone a lot. I didn’t want to push her into a relationship right away. She was still upset about breaking up, she caught him cheating in their bed with a 16 year old girl, and wasn’t ready. So I waited and picked my moment. I was back in Columbus weekly for work and we spent all that time together. I’d even stay with her, sleep in bed with her, no sex, though. Eventually that changed and we got together. When I moved back from KY, we moved in together. She encouraged me to spend more time with my girls, and supported me in that. I eventually brought them around her and it got serious. So finally we got engaged. Her family wasn’t crazy about me. Her mother was a controlling ogre who ruled her husband and her kids with guilt and bitching. At one point I found a letter she had written to Curly asking her if she though it was a good idea to marry a suicidal divorced person with two kids. She went on to say that mental problems run in families and that curly and I could have kids with problems. Needless to say I was irate. I was pissed that Curly had told her mom about the suicide thing and pissed at her mom for being a cunt. Yeah, I used the word, she was one!
We moved past it and had a big wedding with a big reception and honeymoon. Everything was going well. Until I started getting depressed again. It was right after the honeymoon and it was bad. I was seeing a doctor but it didn’t seem to help. I ended up losing my job. I ended up in the hospital again. I was in and out of the hospital for a while. We started fighting and she would stay at her cousin’s house any time we did. I’d be at home alone for days at a time. She’d come back and it would be ok for a while. But then it wouldn’t. She told me at one point she didn’t believe that mental illnesses were diseases like cancer or diabetes, that I just needed to get over it and decide to be better. That was pretty hurtful. Hurtful that she said that but more hurtful that I knew that was something I’d heard her mother say once. Well, we got to our one year anniversary and were barely hanging on. Then one day she tells me I have to move out. It’s over and she’s done. She wants me to move on with her life. I should have known it was coming. She stopped saying I love you weeks before. She stopped wearing her ring. Her parents would call, I’d see by caller ID it was them and then they’d hang up when I answered. It was ugly.
So I moved out. I moved to my ex’s. It was out of convenience. She needed me to be with the kids while she worked and I needed a place to live. My only other choice was Youngstown with my family. I was miserable. Then, to top it off, a friend of mine she works with tells me she had been seeing a guy at work for months. The funny thing was, after I heard that, I was numb. I mean, I hated her, but I didn’t feel like crying or screaming or anything.
After that, we got our divorce. She showed up at the hearing with her cunt-ogre mother. I felt like it was the final stab in the back. I told her I didn’t want to see her family there. She said she wouldn’t bring anyone. Lying bitch. That was the last time I saw her or heard from her. I have no idea where she lives or what she is doing. Any friends we had at the time I don’t see anymore. They all sort of went with her.

So, that’s the story. Sad and pathetic as it may be.