It's come to a point where my story has been played out and I'm just tired of talking about the pig I have to call my ex-boyfriend. Most of the time, my dad and I jokingly say, "I wasn't aware you/I had an ex boyfriend." I like that tale much better.
Long story short, the pig showed up at my work a month ago begging me to unblock him and to speak to him. He told me he really felt the love for me and was sorry he couldn't get his shit together, crying. He asked for another chance. I told him I didn't want to be with him, but we'll see how it goes because coming to my work took a lot of guts...
Fast forward three weeks, I had this sudden inkling that I should go online. There it was - that girl who had called me months before had a picture of them. I called him and told him he had a girlfriend. "No, Nor! She's obsessed with me. She's fucking obsessed. I'll talk to you tomorrow."
I paced my room. The thought that a person I put on a pedestal for six years could do something so sneaky made me mad, angry. Even worse? I wasn't the one who was trying to mend the relationship! I felt betrayed. I called the girl because I had saved her number. Two hour conversation later we both discovered he had been having sex with her at MY FATHER'S office while he was still supposedly trying to work out our relationship - among other terrible things like the fact that his mother was lying to both of us. She told me not to think I was better than her because of all this mess. Funny thing, I remember wondering why he was so kind to me those Saturdays I needed him to cover my shift because Law School required more time from me. She broke up with him, he called me and told me I was poison. I told him never to speak to me again. Then, he called again saying he was sorry for everything he ever did. But, I could hear the arrogance in his voice. This bastard actually believes what he did was okay because it wasn't like he "really" cheated.
The girl is still with him, even after all she knows about what he said about her being obsessive, stupid and that he would never really love her because he'll always love me (his words, not mine). I, on the other hand, now realize that I AM better than her. Not because I have a law degree and am about to be an attorney, not because I worked my ass off for eight years to get through college and law school, not even because I'm going to be making six figures one day - though, those are all awesome perks to being me!! :)
Back on track: I am better because I will never allow that manipulative pig to convince me he is worth more than me, ever again. He's playing the same game with her that he did with me for six years. She is falling for it and I am moving forward. On top of the fact that she is posting pictures publicly for me to see and directing rude comments towards me. Unfortunately for her, I don't check Facebook and have heard such news from my friends whom feel the need to tell me - P.s. Friends, please stop! Most of them tell me she's very unattractive, but that shouldn't matter. Aside from the fact that I'm just happy to be out of that disgusting triangle - self respecting woman, right here!
Obviously I am mad. But, mostly, I am relieved the ordeal is over. I realize he guilted me into a relationship by making me believe other girls were crazy, making me believe he needed me. When I started to second-guess him, he demeaned me and made me feel like less of a person so that I would believe no one else would want to be with me. And what it all boils down to is my own self-image: I let his words be my truth, when all along my reality should have been my own truth. My truth? I am a diamond. I am a gem. I deserve the world. Shoot, maybe the world deserves me! And, sometimes, being an optimist is the WRONG choice. It's okay to realize that there are some fucked up people in this world.
So, my new goal in life is to shine bright like a diamond. How am I doing that? I am focusing on myself and realizing what I am capable of doing - and I am not alone in this journey.
You see, I have my family and I have my friends. I've even turned my faith back to God. The day this all went down, I received a phone call from the Dentist. He was the only other person I'd ever cried over because I lost him in my life. To no surprise, three weeks later I reset my iPhone because when it comes to technology I am mildly retarded. I couldn't figure out how to change a contact name, so I decided to reset my phone and reload all my contacts. Idiotic. I've come to find out it has something to do with how you store contacts through your emails. Stupid technology. It rebooted old conversations I had with Dentist and it made me realize what a tool I was because I was so afraid he would hurt me. I had this huge guard up - on top of the fact that I was studying for the bar exam. I apologized to him immediately afterwards (two days ago) and I am hopeful that he will remain a good friend. After all, everyone needs a handsome dentist in their life. I took it as a sign from God and from life that I would be okay. And I am.
On a side note, there's a bunch of songs out right now using references to diamonds. Since when did people forget that diamond's are a girl's best friend? I have this wine cup from a close friend of mine. It has those exact words: diamonds are a girls best friend. When I was young, I often referred to my friends as diamonds because diamonds are strong and bright. Plus, they make you happy.
Okay, so now that I've said all this, I want you all to know how amazing my life has been lately!!
On Friday, October 5, 2012, for some reason I didn't pack right away. I'm really not sure why - because lately I've had a terrible memory. I'm going to chalk it up to the fact that my brain has used most of its capacity on memorizing laws. In fact, it's often something my cousin, Chicka, likes to make fun of me for. She's a comedian, literally. I often hear her say: "At least you're pretty" or "Nor, wash your fucking hair!" I wash my hair every day now, needless to say. It's mostly because I couldn't take the constant taunting - and because I've noted the error of my ways in photographs. Now-a-days you'll find me sporting a sock bun.
P.s. Looked at those toned arms! Score!! I love bootcamp
So, October 5, 2012 rolls around and I was sitting in my room at 4am bawling and crying my eyes out. I was to embark on a wonderful journey to Mexico on October 6. The problem? I couldn't, for the life of me, find my fucking passport. There my mother was crying because she thought she misplaced my passport (I am still under the belief that she lost it.) My dad was searching through my room and I, for the first time in my life, cussed him out.
"Papa, I've already fucking checked my bed three times. You looking there isn't going to change the fact that it's NOT under my bed. Get out of my room. You're not going to like what you find under my bed!"
He gave me his classic "shocked face" and walked out of my room. I proceeded to cry again and wailed to the world, "that's it! I'm not going to Mexico!"
At 5:40am I was sleeping in my bed when my mother ran into my room, "I found it!"
"Go away. I'm sleeping."
"I found it! I found it"
"What? WHAT?! Where?!"
"In your suitcase."
My dad walks in. "See Nor, you WERE the one who lost it."
I looked at him, annoyed. "No, thank you. I did NOT put it in my suitcase. That's the dumbest place to put a passport."
"Go pack, we leave in 2 hours."
"Ugh."
We reach the airport and the rest of our group was venturing, slowly into the airport. We were going on a trip with 30 attorneys and friends of attorneys. My dad, who is worse at technology then I am, was staring into a giant computer.
"How do I check us in?" He asked, looking at the machine like it were a foreign object. One of the things that drives me nuts about my dad is that he literally types on a keyboard with two fingers. It makes me want to make him play the game I used to play when I was a kid: read, write and type. A God-awful game I was obsessed with that forced you to learn how to type and, quite frankly, would love to track down and play some time.
"Seriously?" I looked at him like he were an alien.
"Not all of us are travel experts like you, Mimis."
I threw my things down.
"Give me the confirmation code, I will show you how it is done."
I punched in the numbers.
'ERROR FINDING YOUR RESERVATION'
Type. Type. Type.
"ERROR FINDING YOUR RESERVATION'
"This machine is stupid."
My mom put her two cents in, "I think they gave us the wrong codes."
"Obviously." I chimed in, because that's what I'd rather believe than believing that a seasoned traveler like myself couldn't figure out how to use a computer. Stupid machine.
"Hey! I think you can put your passports in it. Give me your passport, Papa."
I took his passport. We both eyed the machine; now I felt like I was deteriorating to my father's level of technological prowess.
"Uhm, maybe you can put it in that little slot."
"Mimis, that's for credit cards."
"Yeah, but they wouldn't say you could use your passports unless you could shove a passport in there."
I proceeded to try to shove the passport into a small slot, clearly meant for a credit card. Yes. I swear I went to law school.
"What's that thing." My dad said, pointing to a little slot to the side of the screen.
"Oh, I think it's for passports...."
I wish I could say it was a hop, skip and a jump from there....but it wasn't. You see, my dumbass forgot that we had to check luggage. We had to track down a United Airlines clerk. We got onto the plane okay. As you can tell from my story, I made it back alive.
As we exited the plane in Merida, Mexico, I could only think one thing: it smells like moldy walls. Mexico in the summertime has this very distinctive smell that one can only describe as a musty, moldy wet smell. The tropical storms that plague Mexico often leave you in a state of confusion and terror as you try to figure out whether you should trek into the wind that blows away cars, at least in my head it blows away cars, or stay inside of a building and watch shopping carts fly into the store. I swear, this has happened to me.
SIDE STORY
My dad always convinces me that we should wait out storms. I don't know why I believe him. Let's picture three little kids: my brother Tavs, Chicka and myself with my dad. We were about 10, 12 and 13 in this little town called Tepotzlan.
"Look guys, everyone keeps walking in that direction. Let's follow them."
"I'm hungry." I said.
"I'm tired." Tavs said.
"I'm wearing platforms." Jessica said.
The four of us proceeded to walk over to this wooded area that resembled a place you would see in a horror film. My dad asked everyone where they were going. "It's a pyramid. Ruins. They're at the top of the mountain."
"How far away," my dad asked.
"Not far," everyone said.
We started walking. Two hours in, I had had it. I looked at my dad and said, "I'm NOT walking up this hill." "Fine, you can wait here. I knew you wouldn't be able to do it." This is a weakness of mine. I am stubborn and I like to prove people wrong. I sat with my arms crossed, angry. I watched as Tavs, Chicka and my dad walked up the hill. Then, I started to walk. I wasn't going to let my dad tell me what I could and couldn't do. Five hours later we made it to the top. Mind you, we had to walk up rickety ladders and across jagged edges. Only later to find out that there are five deaths a year up that terrible place. Chicka was complaining and irritated, "everyone kept saying we were almost there and it took us five hours to get here! I'm going to do the same thing when we walk down."
Tavs and Chicka started to walk down. I told my dad I wanted pictures by the pyramid, so we decided to meet Tavs and Chicka.
On the walk down, a tropical storm hit. My dad and I were getting drenched in hot, humid rain. I was beginning to look like a poor, little Mexican kid that belongs in the street. In fact, I actually did get some pesos from people once we finished the ordeal. My dad's bright idea? Let's stand under a rock and wait it out. Half an hour later the storm had not passed and I realized that our haven was actually a little water fall that the storm had created. My father and I proceeded to walk down as I kept getting dirt all over myself.
Meanwhile, Chicka was sitting at the bottom of the hill with Tavs. "They died. That's the only explanation, Tavs."
Tavs was crying.
"Seriously," Jessica said,"Noreen probably slipped and broke her leg and now Papa has to carry her down. Or maybe they fell off the cliff."
Tavs' eyes got big, "Maybe they drowned."
Then, there we were Papa and I walking slowly down the mountain as I pouted.
"You look like a poor, Mexican child, Weiner (my nickname)."
"Whatever."
So, again.... my dad has the uncanny ability to convince people that storms will pass - and they do, but not in the five minutes he thinks they will.
MAIN STORY LINE Whilst in Mexico, I met the governor of Yucatan and the Supreme Court Justice. I was able to meet and make some new friends. I am deadly afraid of heights, and I managed to go zip lining! It's always a beautiful moment hearing the judge you clerked for yell from behind, "Get over it and get on the zip line!"
Since my trip, I've been polishing my dim interior. All about self-image of yourself, right?
I wrote a motion for the law firm I am working, and it was granted! I am finally working my own case, under supervision - of course. Plus, a bunch of people have been telling me I am beautiful lately. My mom's friends, a gas station attendant, girls, boys. I think it's because I have this constant smile on my face at the fact that I really do have a blessed life.
Plus, I have to smile to hide the fact that I am in CONSTANT pain from training for a half-marathon. I f*cking hate running and decided it would be a good idea. I've lost about 12 pounds so far. I'd like to think of it as a total achievement. My friend Pea in a Pod and I have been texting each other non-stop. We are both re-vamping our lives and shining like the diamonds we are meant to be. She also has this uncanny ability to make me feel like I didn't do a bad thing...and that all I need to do is run an extra mile to make it all better.
I'll let you know how that marathon goes.
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