I was stumbling the net today and found the most moving cartoon story about an abusive relationship. If you’ve never been in one or watched someone else live in one, you’ll get a profound insight on how it happens. I know when it happened to me so many years ago it happened so slowly that I never noticed bits of me falling away.

If you’ve ever been in an abusive relationship you’ll see yourself on every page. I did. It hurt, but it made me incredibly grateful that I came out the other end a much stronger person who would never let another human being steal my sparkle again. If you see yourself and you’re still IN the relationship, find the courage to take care of yourself. You are not the one with the problem.

Check out Dragon Slippers by Rosalind Penfold.

I received this note yesterday and had to share it here. I cracked up.

Thanks so much for helping me to find Thorny because without you we’d never have met. He’s the funniest, quirkiest man I’ve ever known. For instance, on our second date he told me he’d pick me up on Friday night and we’d go away for the weekend. He’s a bit “up market” I think so I went out and bought new clothes to wear on our weekend. I spent a small fortune trying to look my best because I REALLY like him.

Right on time, he arrived wearing torn shorts, a stretched out old t-shirt and hiking shoes. NOT the same man I’d been out with the week before. I looked him up and down and he said, “Oh, didn’t I say we were going camping?”

My heart sank.

My suitcase was packed with a dress for dancing, fancy frilly things for, well, you know, casual clothes for playing tourist and here he was in old clothes he probably wore to high school. My mind raced to think of what I could put in the suitcase quickly — better yet, what was clean that I could put in the suitcase. I scolded myself that I should have done the laundry instead of painting my toenails. It was going to be way too cold to walk around barefoot anyway!

I quickly exchanged my besties for my jeans and sweatshirts and off we went. Got to the campground about 6 and set up a rather fancy tent in about 30 minutes. THEN he says, “We’ll have the best fun this weekend. My friends and I come to the ‘Bush Ball’ every year.”

“Bush Ball?”

“I’ve only got jeans and sweatshirts, I thought we were camping!”

I know you’re wondering why I think this guy is really nice because up to this point, I thought he was a total fuckwit. It turned out that everyone wore their daggy clothes. A few of the women had on tiaras with their flannel shirts and hiking boots and it was really funny to watch. The reason why he kept it a secret? He said he was sick of phony women and figured this was a way to see how flexible I could be.

I had the best time ever and we’ve seen each other 5 more times and I think he’s a keeper. Before I decide for sure I’m going to give HIM a test. Thanks again.

ThornlessRose

I wish I’d been there! If you want to try a camping date, my friend Tharizingsun has an online camping store you should have a look at.

Have you ever had a conversation with yourself, asking God or the Universe or the Flying Spaghetti Monster to give you a sign? Come on, don’t lie to me, you know you have.

“I trust my intuition but just give me a sign.”

Like when you’ve decided you need to go on a diet to lose 15 pounds. The same diet you need to go on every 3-4 months, yeah that one. You tell yourself that you’ll be good all day. Then as you’re driving your tummy starts to rumble.

“I’m going to be good, all day.”

Rumble, rumble.

Well, if I’m supposed to eat there will be a parking space right in front of the sandwich shop.

And you drive around again just to be sure.

Or you wait until you get home and you go to the pantry and stand there — waiting for something good to jump on the shelf that wasn’t there 5 minutes ago. Every time you open the door, your standards are one level lower. This morning you couldn’t find anything in there worth eating. Now a teaspoon full of peanut butter doesn’t sound too bad. Or 8 stale chocolate bits.

It’s the same with dating. You go to a social gathering and you mumble under your breath as you walk in, “Give me a sign if the right one is there. I don’t want to choose a jerk AGAIN.” You join a dating site and upload a photo and create your profile.

“Give me a sign. The first man that replies to my ad - make HIM the one.”

Why is it we can’t trust our intuition to be telling us what’s right without some sort of sign?

From now on I’m going to do my best to sit quietly and let the urges pass and listen to the little voice inside me. I’ll pretend it’s a sign.

Ever since I was a kid I’ve known that men think differently from women. Not only do they think differently, the things they think about are different too. Like have you ever noticed when you’re a passenger in a car with a man and you’re at a red light on a 4-lane road and he keeps inching his car forward? It drives me nuts! He can’t just sit there and wait for the light to go green. Oh no, we must have our nose out first. It’s the manly thing to do. I’ve started ignoring it. You can’t argue about everything, can you?

In order to get a guy to go to a chick flick, you’ve got to grovel and say things like, “Do it for me?” I hate that because I never want to waste a gimme. I’ve earned those points and sometimes a chick flick isn’t worth it. Anyway, once you get to the movie, don’t ever let him know you’ve seen tears coming out of his eyes. It can turn into a big scene.

“I wasn’t crying, I had something in my eye.”

“No you didn’t, you were crying.”

“I swear I wasn’t crying, there was nothing in that movie to make ME cry.”

So I roll my eyes and move on to a new subject. Let’s talk about “us”, ok? This is like trying to pull a duck on a tricycle. His lips are flapping and he’s back pedaling but we’re getting nowhere. I have found that “let’s talk” sets us up for disaster, so I just ask him to go for a walk with me.

Does your guy ask for directions? It’s better to drive around like bloodhounds hoping we’ll get the scent of the bbq because stopping will only make us later than we already are!

How about remembering birthdays, anniversaries or special holidays? Today makes 13 years since we first met through a personal ad on the net. I think it’s quite remarkable that we’ve lasted that long. Me - a cranky old American and he’s a fuzzy Australian - chances weren’t too good that we’d last, but last we have. Anyway, I mentioned that it was our 13th anniversary of knowing each other today and he said, “why didn’t you give me advance warning?”

“Advance warning?” I said.

“Yes, then I could have gotten you a gift or booked a nice restaurant.”

“Ok, it’s not your fault that you didn’t remember, it’s my fault for not reminding you?”

“You’re really quick, dear.”

Me? Quick? I think I’ve eaten a pound of stupid. I should have reminded him so I’d get a present!

When you ask a man for something or ask for help with something, you wait and wait and wait. Maybe they’re trying to think up something clever to say so they don’t have to do whatever it is that you need done right now. These always end with me saying — “It’s ok, I got it.”

The other day I said, “Can you pass me the clicker?” I don’t know what it is about the remote control but it always belongs to the man. They don’t use it to change channels - it’s an extension of their manhood. If they have the clicker they’re in control. If that’s all it was, I could live with that. Not in our house. I can be quietly watching a movie or show, not bothering anyone, minding my own business and in he walks, picks up the clicker and starts channel surfing. Has this ever happened to you? It’s like I’m not even in the room. I’m a lump on the couch - faceless and of no importance.

Not until I say, “Excuse me, didn’t you see me sitting here watching tv?”

Then he’s all apologetic like a scolded puppy who just peed on the carpet.

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

I know exactly what he was thinking, he was thinking this is my remote control and channel surfing is the manly thing to do.

Last night was a celebration of sorts around here. Our house is sort of sold and sort of not. So we needed to have a sort of celebration for the sort of sold. I cooked a lovely dinner of steak and red wine sauce with baby vegetables. It was yummy. I didn’t bake anything for dessert because I had a couple of brownies left over from the day before and figured with a big dinner we didn’t need much.

My lovemuffin said he’d get the brownies and on the way back to the table he dropped one. He said it was mine that fell. (I didn’t buy this for a moment but I went along - it was a celebration after all.)

Here’s the dilemma. Is the rule still valid that if you pick it up off the floor within 15 seconds you can still eat it?