Posts Tagged ‘ Breakups ’

Job: I Have One.

Tuesday, May 22nd, 2012

Well, after all kinds of back and forth and craziness regarding my future employment, I can finally say that I’ve settled on something and gotten a job.

An awesome job.  In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s about as good as this whole “job” thing gets.  (I wouldn’t know.  I’m 28 and have been in school for-literally-effing-ever, so I have never had a real one before.)

I’m going to be an associate at a private practice in Massachusetts, about 45 minutes from where Caroline and I live now.  It’s a busy and successful practice with two other super-nice young doctors who also have kids, the office is beautiful, and my hours are perfect: Monday and Tuesday 8-7, and Friday 8-5.  I’ll have to find a sitter I trust to pick her up on my long days, but this will leave me four full days of the week to spend with Caroline.  And this poor child has been in daycare from 7:15am to 5:30pm nearly every day of her life since I went back to dental school and then residency, two and a half years ago.  I am so excited to actually make a comfortable living and still be able to spend more time with my daughter… particularly since her father is moving eight hours away, and I’m sure she’s going to be somewhat… out of sorts.

Basically, it’s my dream come true, I think.  I have worked so hard for this.

So all of that is a huge relief and very exciting.  I’ll be finishing my residency at the end of June and starting at this practice in early July, assuming I can get a Massachusetts license by then, because as it turns out, it is the most giant pain in the butt ever to acquire a Massachusetts dental license.  I need to pass a physical and take a legal exam and get a passport photo taken and donate a kidney and give up my firstborn child and wait, I’m not even sure what we’re talking about anymore, but all of that seems reasonable, no?  Thanks a lot, Massachusetts.  We might never be friends.

Caroline and I also found the most adorable house for rent ever, located in a fancy-pantsy town nearby, so we are waiting to hear back about whether or not we are cool enough to live there.  I suspect we might not be, seeing as how I have been known in the past to forget to pay my bills until whatever I’m not paying for gets shut off (well played, cable company) and I am a scandalously single young mom.  But, we will see.

So, things are looking pretty good for me and Caroline these days.  As my friend says, “Great kid, great job, great future– only one piece is missing now, Jules…” She means men, of course, and although I have pretty phenomenally terrible luck in that category, I’m sure that someday, all of that will work itself out, too.

And if it doesn’t?  That’s okay.  Because I’ve got my dream job… and I’ve got my baby.

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In Which I Delegate My Personal Life

Saturday, March 10th, 2012

It has been brought to my attention that whenever I attempt to date, I turn into a magnet for The Crazy.  (See here and here.  Oh, and here.  One more…  here.)

I mean, I can’t really complain too much.  I’m moving away this summer, so there is little point in entering into an actual relationship.  (Though you’ve got to admit that it does make for entertaining blog material.)  But I do find it frustrating that no matter what I do or how I meet these guys, I always manage to end up in Crazytown.

But hold that pity party for just a minute.  I was thinking about it the other day and realized that this scenario sounded awfully familiar.  In fact, I had a friend in college with the exact same problem.  She used to sit me down in the dining hall and go on and on about how every single guy she’s ever dated has been a total nutjob, and I would smile and nod but couldn’t help but think, “obviously not every guy in the world can be crazy, my dear.  The one thing all these guys have in common is you.  Either you’re the crazy one, or you just pick all the wrong guys, and in either case, the problem is not them.  It’s you.”

So, fine.  I get it, b*tchy college me.  The problem is me.  I pick the crazy ones.  I can own it.

Based on this philosophy, my best friend decided to take matters into her own hands and scour the internet for the perfect men for me.  Whenever she finds a good one, she helpfully emails me a link so I can check out the dude.  I thought you guys might enjoy seeing the lineup.

Ready or not, here they are: my future blog subjects dates.

The more baby mamas, the better… right?

Wait, no, it’s “the more arrests, the better”.

This one loves kids!  Or just their money.  Potato, potahto.

It’s important to have similar views on parenting and discipline.

If he’s not crazy anymore, I will literally eat my shoe.

What do you guys think?  Any of them worth a shot?  I mean, all of these guys have to be at least 85% less crazy than some of the ones I’ve already dated, right?

On second thought, maybe I’d better reconsider turning over the reins of my personal life to this particular friend… (Love you, babe.)

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In Which I Date A Guy Who Has No Kids

Tuesday, February 7th, 2012

Ever since the HSD debacle, I haven’t felt very enthusiastic about or interested in dating at all, which I think anyone would agree is understandable.  Still, when a friend told me recently that she had the “perfect” guy for me, I figured, hey, why not give it a shot?  He was a bit younger than me and didn’t have kids, and if I’m going to date I would prefer to date another single parent for all kinds of reasons.  But as long as I don’t get Caroline involved again, which you can bet your last pair of mom-jeans I will not, what do I have to lose but time?

Oh, and also my last shred of dignity?  There’s always that to be lost.  Well, there was.  It’s gone, now.

It started out fine.  Pretty great, in fact.  He asked me to go to this place where there was not only a bar but also all these kid-type games like mini golf and skeeball and a climbing wall, et cetera.  We had a great time and had tons to talk about.  It went so well that when he invited me back to his place to hang out with his friends, I accepted.  (Because, again, why not?)  I followed his car back to his place, and that’s where I realized I had made some kind of… miscalculation.

I walked in the door and met his two roommates, who were very nice, just like he was.  But the place reeked of smoke, and not the cigarette kind.  There were giant speakers scattered around the floor, recycling bins overflowing with beer cans, a hookah sitting on a scarred kitchen table, beer pong “house rules” tacked to the wall, and above the fireplace was a giant whiteboard with a single word scrawled across it in dry-erase black marker: DIARRHEA.

(Well… at least it was spelled correctly?)

One of his roommates rolled by me (yes, in the house) on a Razor scooter towards the bathroom.  I went to sit down in one of the chairs at the hookah table and my date grabbed my shoulder.  ”Oh, not that one,” he said. “It’s only got three legs.”

“So, how long have you guys lived here?” I asked, brightly, and a little too loudly, in a desperate attempt to drown out the chorus of I’mtoooldforthisI’mtoooldforthisI’mtoooldforthis that was screaming through my brain.  ”About six months,” my date said cheerfully.  ”No, wait, longer than that…”

I’m not trying to be a snob, here, but really, how could I ever imagine bringing my child to a place like that if we started seriously dating?  And what would he think of my place, which is usually nearly spotless and has organic kids’ snacks in the pantry and the lyrics to “You Are My Sunshine” hanging next to silver-framed smiling photos of me and my daughter on the wall?

Really, the last straw was the awkward moment where he playfully whacked me with a couch pillow and blood started gushing from my nose.  ”Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” he gasped. “Captain Take-It-Too-Far over here.  Are you okay??”  ”I’m fine,” I insisted, peering at him as I tilted my head back and applied pressure to staunch the flow. “I’ll send you the bill for my transfusion.”  (Awe. Some.  This sh*t only happens to me.  On dates.)

And yet he was such a cool and funny guy and throughout the few dates we had, we never ran out of things to say to each other.  In the end I broke it off because I just couldn’t see it going anywhere– he seemed far too uncomfortable with the fact that I had a child, and I couldn’t get past the fact that we were in such different places in our lives.  He seemed a little hurt at first, but quickly agreed that he wasn’t ready to date someone who was already a mom.

I’m in such a strange place in life, you guys.  Being a mom defines me to such a degree that I would really prefer to date men who also have children, because they understand me and my priorities in a way that people who don’t have children never could.  But I’m also young enough that I still really like to have fun… so 35-year-olds who have kids and go to bed by 10pm on weekends (like HSD) aren’t a good fit for me, either.  I used to have a different life, back in college, like the guy in this post… and I loved it at the time, and sometimes I miss it, but I don’t want to go back and I don’t want to date someone who is still there, either.  As I told him when I broke things off, I think that for younger guys who don’t have kids, my life might be a nice place to visit, but they probably wouldn’t want to live there.

So, it turns out that I’m extending my break from dating– indefinitely.  Whatever happens will happen, but my life is apparently incapable of being non-crazy even when I’m not looking for anything… so who knows what unbelievable situation I’ll end up in next.  (Stay tuned for the next episode of “Hey, At Least You’re Not Julia”.)

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Moving Forward

Monday, January 9th, 2012

You know that saying “when it rains, it pours?” It’s definitely true, at least in my life, or at least in my 2012. My boyfriend dumped me in the most sudden and brutal way possible, I totaled my car, my laptop died, and I’ve been on call 80 bazillion times in two weeks and have been missing my kid like crazy.

I mean, it could be far worse, but, what’s a single mom to do? I’ll tell you what. She spends a sh*t-ton of money she doesn’t have. Because, well, she has to. I mean, I have to. (I’m losing track of myself in the third person here.)

As for the first problem, confesh: I totally pretended that every tooth I extracted for about a week was HSD’s, sans anesthesia, natch. (Very therapeutic. Try it sometime. Not at home. Or without a valid dental degree.) As for the second, I went out and got a super-cute dark blue used Volkswagen Golf, which hopefully my insurance will still decide to cover despite the fact that I am basically this:

Allstate mayhem commercial

(Watch it. It’s only 30 seconds and so worth it.)

As for the third, I got an iPad, which I am currently blogging from and is, incidentally, very handy for entertaining cranky toddlers in a pinch, and cheaper than a laptop. All of this served as truly excellent retail therapy. And as for the fourth problem, as of tonight I’m not on call for almost a whole month, so I got some quality snuggle- and play-time in with Caroline, and I plan to get much, much more.

So it’s all worked out quite well in the end, and my friends and family (and readers! Thank you!) have proved yet again how truly awesome they are with offers of comfort and rides and cars and loans and hate-mail-sending-services.

Things are looking up for me in the new year, even if they took a couple of weeks to get there. It’s also time for me to be getting serious about my post-residency job search, and I’ve come up with several options that involve major life change, relocation, and consequently being shanked by friends and family who would prefer that Caro and I stay close by.

But, it’s time for a change and the next chapter in this crazy adventure that I call my life! Stay tuned for my big announcement, once I’ve finalized my decision and have informed the appropriate people in appropriate ways…

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And… I’m Back, You Guys.

Sunday, January 1st, 2012

Sometimes… a girl has to be a little b*tchy.

Actually, I should have prefaced this post with, “I’m back, you guys.”

Due to the HSD breakup drama, I had been lying in bed at my parents’ house and being useless all weekend, feeling naush, not eating anything and not really sleeping either.  My mom even accused me of being a detached mother to Caro, which was not exactly what I needed to hear at that point.  I was feeling pretty crappy about everything, which was only compounded by the fact that I left my parents’ house with Caroline to do some retail therapy shopping and accidentally rear-ended this woman as I was coming off the mall exit.

Yeah.  Awesome.  Not a great start to 2012.  I was starting to think that maybe in a past life I had dumped someone via text message for a married woman, or something.  (Karma, you know?)

I kind of wanted to lie down and give up at that point.

But I didn’t.

I chatted with the poor woman who I rear-ended, apologized a billion times, and told her about my crappy week:

Me: I know this doesn’t matter to someone who doesn’t know me, but my boyfriend dumped me via text message for a married woman the other day.  I guess I was distracted.  I’m so, so sorry.

Her: (long sigh…) Oh, honey.  I’d be out of it too.  I think your baby’s crying in the car.  You should go sit with her, I’ll talk to the police for you.  Hey, you know, I have a 16-month old boy myself.

Me: Really?  Awww.  What’s his name?

Her: DJ.  What’s your baby’s name?  She’s so cute.

Me: Caroline.  She’s pretty hilarious.  Poor kid, she has no idea why her mom is such an idiot.

Her: Honey, you’re not an idiot.  My name’s Natasha, by the way.  Hey, here’s my cell number.  Let’s keep in touch?  I hope things get better for you.

Clearly, Natasha and I are basically BFF now.  Even though, you know, I rear-ended her and destroyed her bumper and made her late for work.  We’re totally gonna hang out next weekend.  I told my friends this story and they all said “only you, Jules.”

So where was I?  Oh right.  After my retail therapy shopping session, which I really can’t afford since my car is most likely totaled due to the accident (seeing as how it’s worth about $400), I went home and posted the following Facebook status:

“ATTENTION!  Down-on-her-luck single mom, totaled car, dumped by douchebag boyfriend via text message for married woman, seeking volunteers to drive self and adorable toddler around for the next week.  (I’ll take 2011 back, thanks…) Any takers, please let me know!  Hugs.”

It got quite the response.  (If you’re a longtime reader, you know I’ve used my Facebook statuses to provocative effect in the past.)  Tons of people replied and messaged me and texted me and called me, and I have to say I was very touched by the outpouring of support and generosity towards Caroline and myself.  (Thanks, you guys.)

Also, HSD’s brother commented:

“Huh? Is there something I should know????”

Whoops.  Apparently, HSD didn’t even tell his family.  (Perhaps he was ashamed…?)

My response: “Well.  This is awkward.”

And I swear, if I hear anything from HSD about posting that on Facebook, my response will be, “Yeah, I feel badly about that.  For your brother.  Because it sucks to hear about important information via Facebook… or text.”

I hadn’t cracked a smile since I got that terrible text, but for some reason, this made me giggle for hours every time I thought about it.  And I felt like myself again.  Thank goodness.  I’m back, you guys.  I won’t let all this stuff get me down in the new year.

I needed a new car, anyway.

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