Why would I lie?
I mean, what’s the point.
Like who really reads this shit anyway?
I walked into my Starbucks yesterday, and my most favorite Barista asked me if I always told the truth in my blog. Hmmm. The truth?
Like the truth, truth? With no fabrication. Or Jen-isms. Or exaggeration?
Jeez, what fun is that?
Well, Chic. That’s his name, Chic. I love this guy. He’s like the best. Totally knows my drink order, never fucks it up…and is sweet to my kids. Does it get any better than that? And you all know, Starbucks is my place. My “office”. Where I do my best writing. It’s quiet, and loud…all at the same time. So my ADD is welcome. And I can drink coffee all day long. And hide. I have a big leather chair with my name on it, kinda. Well, my ass print on it. So, Chic sees me every damn day. And I feel like we have a total “connection”. Me and my Barista. My bud. So, when he asks me if I always tell the truth, I feel like I owe him well…the truth.
The truth about The Truth Hurvitz.
So, on this day, the very first of 2015….I am going to give it to you straight. And Chic, I am hoping you’re reading this. Maybe you will give me a free grande non-fat two sweet-n-low misto, for giving you a shout out? lol. And I’m crossing my fingers y’all can handle it. All of it. Well, some of it. As much as I can get into one blog. It may take a bunch of blogs. But here goes nothing. It’s a new year, and I am turning over a new leaf. I am going to tell you what I’ve learned about the truth. Cause in my opinion, most of the world just can’t fucking handle it. And they don’t really want to hear it, or believe it…or want to accept it. They want to ignore it. Just like I want to ignore that fucking little hair I found on my chin this morning. Excuse me, but why is there a hair coming out of my chin? Am I like 85, or a she-man? Shit. I just want to die. And I’m telling you right now, whoever is in charge of me when I’m on my deathbed, better have tweezers. Cause if I’m in a coma, start plucking. Don’t you be letting me lay there with fucking hairs coming out of my chin. Dang.
Where was I? Oh ya, the truth. You all ignore it, and can’t handle it, and ummm…then there’s me!
This crazy, in-your-face…no-bullshit-kinda girl, who just says whatever she wants to say. And she tells her stories, and shares her feelings…and has no filters. And people can’t believe it. They can’t believe the shit she is spewing is actually the truth. Or real. Did a guy actually LICK her face? Come on. Too gross for words! Did she honestly go out with a man who sent her home in a cab because she was JEWISH? There is no fucking way! Is it possible that she could really have gone out with that many losers from Match.com, and still be dating? hahaha. The list goes on, and on…and on. This girl, starts telling her stories…Hold on, I’m writing in third person. Why am I writing in third person? Let me switch, I’m still messed up from those fizzy-champagne drinks last night. Ok, so I start telling my stories…and now, other girls just like me come crawling out of the woodwork! And they can relate to my life. And my version of the “truth”. And my divorce. And my crappy marriage. Which wasn’t so damn crappy, it lasted for 12 years, for the love of Goddess. I think that’s pretty good, in the scheme of things. But people can relate. And I think they dig my honesty. And I get it, some of you are skeptical…like, it can’t all be real. Right?
Wrong. It’s called The Truth Hurvitz you big dummies. So, it’s my version of my truth. Duh. But for some reason, people still think I’m lying. Like I would make this crap up? Who has the time, or the energy? Rhetorical.
Ready for the one thing that people just can’t seem to buy? That Mark and I are friends. What do I have to do, take a polygraph? We are good friends. We can actually be in the same room. And yes, I actually talk to him every day. And yes, we like each other…as long as we are not discussing money. lol. And we actually get along, and we are raising our kids together, but separately. And we are thrilled when the other is dating! OMG. When he’s getting laid, he’s a better man! ha. The truth is, if you can be happily divorced, it’s so much better than being miserably married. Don’t you agree? Don’t be jealous. Or haters. You too can be “happily divorced”. I think I’ve blogged about this before. I seriously know people that are secretly envious that their divorces can’t be as good as ours. Well, is that my fault? I’m so sorry that you don’t talk to your ex. She’s a douche, and you are an asshole! You should both be ashamed of yourselves, start communicating…for your KIDS. And get along for the 5 minutes you see each other at a baseball game. Make it happen! Fix it. But, guys…it takes work. Just like a marriage. Did she just say that? Yes, I did. Do you think it’s easy, this divorce thing? Hell no. It’s a nightmare. But you have to work at making it the best you can…for your kids. It’s not their fault, they didn’t file the damn papers…YOU did! And that my friends is the truth…any way you slice it. It’s been a long, long 2014, but Mark and I have finally realized that we made the right decision for our kids, and ourselves. So, believe this, there is such a thing as an amicable divorce. We are far from perfect, but hey, we are trying to put the past behind us.
But I have been lying…to myself. And to all y’all. One teeny tiny little lie-ish.
Maybe not lying. Lying is so harsh. I have been scared. And over the past year, I have not wanted to admit my true feelings. Maybe I wasn’t ready, or I was jaded. Shit, I am just admitting I have changed my views on a couple of things. I’m hopeful, ok? I’m excited…and hopeful. And seeing a different side of things. I might just want to get remarried one day. OMG. What the fuck? No. That’s a lie. I maybe want to stop being single. And alone. I might just want to find a guy that is my “one”. Maybe. I have said I’m anti-marriage. And anti-commitment. And anti-anything that has to do with togetherness and love. But the truth is, I am no longer opposed to it. And I’m opening my heart, and mind…and legs to the thought of being off the market. My legs first, of course. And I shaved. I’m all cleaned up for the occasion. I went off of Match.com. And off of JDate. And I’m clean shaven, and ready to go. The world is my oyster…I am ready to be plucked! Plucked. I said plucked.
PHEW. I feel good! I came clean…about a bunch of things. (including my bikini line) And I am ready to put myself out there, and get myself a BOYFRIEND! I want a boyfriend, I want a boyfriend. They say if you put it out there, it will happen…poof. Just like that. Let it out into the Universe, and it shall come back to you…I want a booooyyyyffffrriiieeeddd. I want him to be smart, and sweet, and hot…and from LA. Or DC. Or someplace in between. And I want him to wear glasses. And have a name that starts with an E! And I really want to hold hands, and snuggle…and do all things couple-ish. And if I actually like it, I might do it for a long period of time. Which I’m pretty sure is called “dating”. And when people ask me if I’m single, I will say….NO I HAVE A BOYFRIEND!!! hehehe.
Wait! What if I shouldn’t talk about the unsightly hairs on my chin anymore. Just in case my next boyfriend is reading my blog! Maybe he can’t handle all my “truth”? Crap. Well, if he’s the one for me…then he will show up on our first date with a brand-spankin’ new pair of tweezers. Ready to pluck! I said pluck, all y’all…pluck. ;)
xo jTags: blended families, charlotte, cyber dating, dads and divorce, dating long distance, dating with kids, freedom after marriage, geographically undesirable dating, love