This one is about trying not to ruin Christmas, and meeting Nika

posted by susan-oh-susan / february 22 at 10:45 am / uncategorized / 6 comments

My plan of pretending nothing happened, I knew nothing, I had to do nothing—except “my life was over oh-my-god”—was going really well until Cody—that’s my eldest son—arrived with his girlfriend, the morning of Christmas Eve.

Cody and Tyler are—they’re both awesome kids, great boys. But they’re so different. Tyler is this giant of a man. Looked like a footballer player in the making since he was two. And Cody is—he gets offended when I call him tiny, but he’s small-boned and half a foot shorter than his brother, built like a jockey, you know? These delicate, fine hands… compared to Tyler’s massive fists… Anyway. So different. Tyler’s never had a girlfriend. Cody’s been bringing home a girl a week since he was twelve.

The latest one, he introduced as Veronica. “Call me Nika,” she said immediately, and slid right into my arms into the kind of hug Marcella and I share, but one I’ve never given one of my son’s girlfriends… or any stranger. She was—is—ridiculously beautiful, Nika. Cody had told me she was half-Polish, half-Chinese, but the only word for her was gorgeous. As small-boned as Cody—she looked tiny next to him, actually, which was maybe part of the appeal?

Anyway. Gorgeous. Affectionate.

And what happened was—ok, so I had found out about the cheating texts four or five days earlier, and I hadn’t told anyone, I hadn’t told John I knew, I hadn’t told Marcella, no one—and so what happened was, Nika hugged me, and I looked at her, and she was this beautiful, tiny, fragile thing standing beside my husband’s son, and god, I loved—I love—Cody so much, but he’s a tomcat, a slut, he’s totally going to break her heart, these thoughts went shooting through me, and I burst into tears.

Giant, ridiculous, blubbery tears.

“Jesus, Mom, what’s wrong?” Cody said, I think, but Nika just moved back into my arms and hugged me and hugged me and hugged me.

The next thing I remember, I was in bed, and she was perched beside me, with a cup of green tea and a pot of honey.

And I was telling her everything.

Which, admittedly, wasn’t much.

iPad. Texts. My husband is cheating on me and my life is over.

“You need to tell him that you know,” she said.

“I’m going to ruin Christmas!” I wailed.

“I think you’re going to ruin Christmas anyway if you don’t tell him,” she said.

“The boys will hate me,” I sobbed.

“Because their father cheated on you?” Nika demanded.

“Because I’m going to ruin Christmas!”

“I doubt it,” she said. And made me drink the tea.

Gave me half a dozen tissues.

I decided that if Cody didn’t marry her, I’d never forgive him, and I said so.

She laughed.

“We’ve only been dating two months, Mama Susan,” she said. “But thank you. I’ll remind you of this moment if we do get married and you become a jealous harridan of a mother-in-law.”

She kissed me on both cheeks before she left me in the bedroom, gently closing the door behind her.

When she left, I cried some more.

And then I texted Marcella.

*

6 comments on This one is about trying not to ruin Christmas, and meeting Nika:

sugar&spice76: Finally!

BeautifulThingsEveryday: I know, hey? I’m still pissed she didn’t tell me for four fucking days.

susan-oh-susan: I wasn’t thinking clearly. I wasn’t thinking at all. You know this.

BeautifulThingsEveryday: I know. But I’m still pissed.

sugar&spice76: So what happens next? I mean, do you tell the kids? Do you tell your husband that you know?

susan-oh-susan: I ruin Christmas.

what’s next?
go to 
BLOG TABLE OF CONTENTS (or look to see what’s live in the sidebar)

OMFG, I CAN’T WAIT!

BUY CHERRY PIE CURE

Want to be the first to hear about the next MISTRESS OF HER OWN DOMAIN release and other news from M. Jane Colette AND her a free copy of M. Jane Colette’s TASTE ME: the thinking woman’s erotica, let Jane send you love letters:

YES! MY LIFE NEEDS MORE LOVE LETTERS!

Advertisements

I guess I’m not dealing very well

posted by susan-oh-susan / february 21 at 4:02 pm / uncategorized / 6 comments

Yeah.

Christmas sucked.

I guess I decided while I was making Tyler his sandwich that I wasn’t going to ruin the kids’ Christmas by making a big deal out of it… I actually remember, that was what I thought, “Don’t make a big deal out of it, Susan.” But honestly, I don’t think I was really… thinking, you know? I was totally shell-shocked. John came home late, and pecked me on the cheek and I flinched with disgust, but he didn’t notice. He and Tyler chatted and watched television. I hid in the kitchen and baked.

I should have maybe texted Marcella. But I was mostly just trying not to think about it…

“Honey-bunny.”

“Pout.”

“I can’t wait to…”

Oh. My. God.

My husband was cheating on me.

My life was over.

*

6 comments on I guess I’m not dealing very well:

BeautifulThingsEveryday: Drama queen. You’re not in that space any more.

susan-oh-susan: Are you sure? I still sort of think I am.

BeautifulThingsEveryday: My prescription, as always, is a twenty-five-year-old boy.

susan-oh-susan: You can keep your twenty-five-year-old boy. My twenty-one-year-old boy is about to arrive. In the next post.

BeautifulThingsEveryday: So you are going to keep on writing.

susan-oh-susan: I guess.

what’s next?
go to 
BLOG TABLE OF CONTENTS (or look to see what’s live in the sidebar)

OMFG, I CAN’T WAIT!

BUY CHERRY PIE CURE

Want to be the first to hear about the next MISTRESS OF HER OWN DOMAIN release and other news from M. Jane Colette AND her a free copy of M. Jane Colette’s TASTE ME: the thinking woman’s erotica, let Jane send you love letters:

YES! MY LIFE NEEDS MORE LOVE LETTERS!

Marcella sucks and I’m a pathetic blob of goo

posted by susan-oh-susan / february 20 at 5:13 pm / uncategorized / 8 comments

Marcella came over this morning on her way to work to make sure I was out of bed and showered and dressed. That’s my promise to her—I made it… when? Just a few days ago. Valentine’s Day, I guess, when she came over for our “Don’t commit suicide on Valentine’s Day, Susan” date and found me in pajama pants, week-old socks, and John’s disgusting old bathrobe… at 7 pm.

“Susan,” she said, very sternly, “this ends today.”

“My husband of twenty-two years left me six weeks ago,” I snotted into the sleeve of John’s bathrobe. “I’m entitled to be miserable. I should probably be on medication.”

“You should take a shower,” Marcella said. And then more or less man-handled—woman-handled?—me into the bathroom.

It was later that night, actually—after the third bottle of wine—that she convinced me to start this stupid blog.

Which, I still think, is a terrible idea.

Anyway.

When she was over this morning—and I was out of bed, showered, and dressed—she said that “So Christmas sucked” was a shitty blog post.

“It’s true,” I said. “Also, succinct. And also—what’s the point of details? You know them all. God knows I know them all.”

And she said…

“What about Stacey-Sugar?”

“What?”

“The blogger who’s left comments on your posts. She probably wants to know more than ‘So Christmas sucked.’”

And then we got into a fight… well, not a fight, but an argument, over whether the blog was a therapeutic exercise or an exercise in self-indulgence, and Marcella, who has an opinion on everything and a solution to everyone’s problems except her own, said, “Look, Susan, do what you want, but either keep on with the blog or go fuck a twenty-five-year-old boy. Do you want to be a pathetic blob of goo in your cheating husband’s bathrobe?”

And I said, “I am a pathetic blob of goo in my cheating husband’s bathrobe,” although I was dressed. In yoga pants and a T-shirt, but still. They were clean, and the shirt was kind of pressed. Not that I ironed it or anything, but it’s made of that material, you know, that comes out of the drier looking ironed.

I used to iron John’s shirts, did you know that?

Stupid moron.

Me. Not you, Marcella.

Although I’m still kind of mad at you. Even though you shovelled my driveway.

Thank you for that.

Where was I?

Right.

Christmas sucked.

*

8 comments on Marcella sucks and I’m a pathetic blob of goo:

sugar&spice76: I totally want to know the details! Christmas sucked! What happened? Did you confront him?

susan-oh-susan: I’ll tell you, but please don’t judge me.

BeautifulThingsEveryday: I love you, you pathetic blob of goo in a bathrobe. And this is so good for you.

susan-oh-susan: I’m still not talking to you.

BeautifulThingsEveryday: K. But make sure you have coffee on when I come over tomorrow morning, because I have a late night planned tonight.

susan-oh-susan: With Charles?

BeautifulThingsEveryday: No, I’m done with Charles. This one’s called Raoul. I’ll show you pictures, and maybe you can convince me to share him.

susan-oh-susan: Stop it.

what’s next?
go to 
BLOG TABLE OF CONTENTS (or look to see what’s live in the sidebar)

OMFG, I CAN’T WAIT!

BUY CHERRY PIE CURE

Want to be the first to hear about the next MISTRESS OF HER OWN DOMAIN release and other news from M. Jane Colette AND her a free copy of M. Jane Colette’s TASTE ME: the thinking woman’s erotica, let Jane send you love letters:

YES! MY LIFE NEEDS MORE LOVE LETTERS!

So Christmas sucked

posted by susan-oh-susan / february 19 at 10:09 am / uncategorized / leave a comment

So Christmas sucked.

*

Leave a comment:

what’s next?
go to 
BLOG TABLE OF CONTENTS (or look to see what’s live in the sidebar)

OMFG, I CAN’T WAIT!

BUY CHERRY PIE CURE

Want to be the first to hear about the next MISTRESS OF HER OWN DOMAIN release and other news from M. Jane Colette AND her a free copy of M. Jane Colette’s TASTE ME: the thinking woman’s erotica, let Jane send you love letters:

YES! MY LIFE NEEDS MORE LOVE LETTERS!

Breasts are also stupid

posted by susan-oh-susan / february 18 at 3:15 pm / uncategorized / 2 comments

By the way, they weren’t even that nice. Her breasts, I mean.

I mean, they were okay.

But they weren’t like… pin-up girl or porn star breasts. You know?

They were just breasts.

Not that different from mine.

No better, anyway.

Oh god.

Here I go, crying again.

I’m going to text Marcella and tell her this blog is ruining my life.

*

2 comments on Breasts are also stupid:

BeautifulThingsEveryday: This is Marcella. Susan, this is good for you. Keep on writing.

sugar&spice76: Honey, I agree. Keep on purging, Susan.

what’s next?
go to 
BLOG TABLE OF CONTENTS (or look to see what’s live in the sidebar)

OMFG, I CAN’T WAIT!

BUY CHERRY PIE CURE

Want to be the first to hear about the next MISTRESS OF HER OWN DOMAIN release and other news from M. Jane Colette AND her a free copy of M. Jane Colette’s TASTE ME: the thinking woman’s erotica, let Jane send you love letters:

YES! MY LIFE NEEDS MORE LOVE LETTERS!

How could I be so stupid?

posted by susan-oh-susan / february 18 at 9:01 am / uncategorized / 3 comments

I stood there, like a moron, until Tyler came into the hallway.

“I thought I heard you leave, and then I thought I heard you come in, and then I heard nothing and I thought you were murdered in the long dangerous walk between the front door and the kitchen, where you were heading to make your favourite son a triple decker ham-turkey-mystery meat sandwich,” he rumbled. You know, he’s eighteen now, and his voice “broke” three, maybe even four years ago, but still, every time I hear that rumbly man’s voice come out of that mouth…

“Oh, Jesus, Mom, don’t cry, I’ll make my own sandwich!” he said, because—well, you know what I did.

“No, no,” I said and I didn’t even ask him, he picked up the grocery bags and took them into the kitchen and me, I…

I put the iPad right back where I found it.

That’s just what I did.

*

3 comments on How could I be so stupid?:

sugar&spice76: Oh, honey.

susan-oh-susan: I know, Sugar. Moron, right?

sugar&spice76: No, honey. No. Hugs.

 

what’s next?
go to 
BLOG TABLE OF CONTENTS (or look to see what’s live in the sidebar)

OMFG, I CAN’T WAIT!

BUY CHERRY PIE CURE

Want to be the first to hear about the next MISTRESS OF HER OWN DOMAIN release and other news from M. Jane Colette AND her a free copy of M. Jane Colette’s TASTE ME: the thinking woman’s erotica, let Jane send you love letters:

YES! MY LIFE NEEDS MORE LOVE LETTERS!

Help…

posted by susan-oh-susan / february 15 at 7:45 pm / uncategorized / 6 comments

Ok, look, I can’t figure out how to delete these posts, and I don’t know if you’re reading them or not, or who you are—who are you, actually? Who reads these things? Who writes these things? Marcella has a blog, but she’s a businesswoman and a musician—she needs them. So of course she thinks it’s a good idea. Aren’t we all like that? Assuming that what’s good for us is good for other people?

Marcella thinks this is good for me.

And because I am a stupid sheep—and crazy—what do I do? I listen to her. Watch her set things up. Outsource everything—even the name of the blog, my username, and my password—to her. Can you believe it?

It’s because I’m a sheep.

Or crazy.

And I hate the name of this blog.

Marcella was like, “You can name it anything you like! That’s the great thing about a blog! You’re the mistress of your own domain, and you can say anything you like, Susan! So what are we going to call it?”

And then she shot down every single one of my suggestions.

Which, ok, were mostly pretty lame. StupidSusansStupidLifedotcom, for example. Or, susanslifeisover… or… well, you get the picture.

But Susan’s Writing Cure Blog is just as lame.

Sigh.

And this whole idea is stupid.

And here I am, still typing.

I’m typing because I’m lonely and even though it can’t possibly be that hard to delete these stupid posts, I’d rather… type.

Maybe because… it’s better to hope somebody—Marcella, anybody!—is reading this than to admit how lonely I am?

Oh.

Did I just admit how lonely I am?

Is that the way this is supposed to work?

I’m going to text Marcella and ask her.

*

6 comments on Help:

m88: At this time it appears like Power Engine is the preferred blogging platform out there right now. (from what I’ve read) Is that what you are using on your blog?

susan-oh-susan: Um, no. Who is this?

BeautifulThingsEveryday: It’s a spammer, Susan. Delete his comment, and turn on your spam filter.

susan-oh-susan: Who is this?

BeautifulThingsEveryday: This is Marcella. You adorable idiot.

susan-oh-susan: Marcella, in my world, spam is a disgusting meat that comes in a can. What is a spam filter?

*

what’s next?
The next post is coming
february 16 at 12:15 pm
go to 
BLOG TABLE OF CONTENTS (or look to see what’s live in the sidebar)

OMFG, I CAN’T WAIT!

BUY CHERRY PIE CURE

Want to be the first to hear about the next MISTRESS OF HER OWN DOMAIN release and other news from M. Jane Colette AND her a free copy of M. Jane Colette’s TASTE ME: the thinking woman’s erotica, let Jane send you love letters:

YES! MY LIFE NEEDS MORE LOVE LETTERS!

Susan’s Writing Cure is a stupid name for a blog

posted by susan-oh-susan / february 15 at 7:21 pm / uncategorized / leave a comment

?

Delete, delete, delete!

*

Leave a comment:

*

what’s next?
go to 
BLOG TABLE OF CONTENTS (or look to see what’s live in the sidebar)

OMFG, I CAN’T WAIT!

BUY CHERRY PIE CURE

Want to be the first to hear about the next MISTRESS OF HER OWN DOMAIN release and other news from M. Jane Colette AND her a free copy of M. Jane Colette’s TASTE ME: the thinking woman’s erotica, let Jane send you love letters:

YES! MY LIFE NEEDS MORE LOVE LETTERS!

Oops

posted by susan-oh-susan / february 15 at 7:15 pm / uncategorized / leave a comment

Apparently I pressed publish instead. How the hell do I delete posts off a blog?

*

Leave a comment:

*

what’s next?
go to 
BLOG TABLE OF CONTENTS (or look to see what’s live in the sidebar)

OMFG, I CAN’T WAIT!

BUY CHERRY PIE CURE

Want to be the first to hear about the next MISTRESS OF HER OWN DOMAIN release and other news from M. Jane Colette AND her a free copy of M. Jane Colette’s TASTE ME: the thinking woman’s erotica, let Jane send you love letters:

YES! MY LIFE NEEDS MORE LOVE LETTERS!

Hello

posted by susan-oh-susan / february 15 at 7:11 pm / uncategorized / leave a comment

Hello? Is anybody out there?

This is stupid.

I can’t believe I’m doing this.

I’m not. I am not going to blog about my pathetic, stupid life.

Screw you, Marcella. You are not my therapist. And this is not helping. At all. It’s just making me feel more stupid.

And I don’t need that.

Ugh.

I’m pressing delete. Do you see?

*

Leave a comment:

*

what’s next?
go to 
BLOG TABLE OF CONTENTS (or look to see what’s live in the sidebar)

OMFG, I CAN’T WAIT!

BUY CHERRY PIE CURE

Want to be the first to hear about the next MISTRESS OF HER OWN DOMAIN release and other news from M. Jane Colette AND her a free copy of M. Jane Colette’s TASTE ME: the thinking woman’s erotica, let Jane send you love letters:

YES! MY LIFE NEEDS MORE LOVE LETTERS!