Getting What I Deserve

So. Let’s talk about Romance huh?

I met my second husband at a bar. It was a country western bar, and it’s the same bar that I went to 2x a month with my then best friend (don’t you like the ‘then best friends’) who was basically an alcoholic and was introducing me to the fun and frolic of dancing and drinking and the quest to meet Mr. Right at the best possible venue … a country western bar.

So she and I arrived and she was dancing with God knows who, and I was people watching. I was frequently asked to dance, but at that point in my life I rarely did anything at social gatherings but drink, and sit silently observing. At that point in my life I was recovering from a prison sentence. Prison sentence is putting it lightly. I was recovering from my first marriage – virtually a living nightmare.

Who says people don’t make the same mistakes over and over again, I met my first Mr. Right in a bar too. But seriously lightening doesn’t strike twice in the same place. Or does it.

So – It was ladies night. Woot Woot. My Red Solo Cup. Not really it was a clear Dixie cup. Vodka and Cranberry. Literally 2 ounces. But the drinks were only like $2.00 each. Needless to say I went crazy and drank 2 of them. Right about that time Mr. Right #2 came over and started chatting with me. He looked attractive, he was tall, he was dressed as if he was some sort of businessman, and he was polite. He pulled out a chair for me, he listened intently, and he had a genuine smile. Apart from his horrible dental issues, he was perfect. Suddenly I felt really sick (after 2 drinks) and started to walk towards the ladies room, and didn’t make it. I fell down flat on my face. Very odd indeed because I only had two drinks and I was well on my way to alcoholism by that point, and 4 ounces of
Ywdzr5 mixed drinks would not get me there. Mr Right #2 was not phased, and he brought me outside. I sat on the bench and threw up all over the place. How attractive huh. Normally that would create a mass exodus right? Nope.  Mr Right #2 stayed by my side. Warning sign or good sign? Who knows.It does seem like an admirable Suddenly after the poison was out of my system I felt 100% better. We went back inside and had a few more drinks, we danced which was something I never did, and I eventually went home with my drunk friend.

Incidentally this bar eventually closed after it was discovered that the bartenders were putting roofies in the ladies drinks. Ah the classy venues I’ve frequented in this lovely city.

I was in love. Fast  forward 3 years after a long and tumultuous courting period, which I will write about later … It’s time to pick out a ring. He says go to Borsheim’s and pick out a ring. I say “I can’t just pick out a ring. I want to be surprised by the ring.” (Surely I can pick out a ring, I want to pick out a ring because though I loved my fiancé he was cheap, and he had bad taste, and he would probably pick out the ugliest ring ever) So here is the moment of truth. Take notice women this is how you do it. “How about if I go pick out several rings and then you choose the one you like best and you can surprise me with it.” Aw how sweet and not manipulative at all. Uh huh. (it wasn’t at the time, looking back it totally was) However  ladies … this was not going to be a surprise for me. I knew I’d get exactly what I deserved.

So I go to Borsheim’s knowing how much my future husband makes a year. Let’s just say he makes a shit ton of money. He’s going to go big, or he’s going to go home. I look at the designer case. You know the one where the rich old ladies hang, or the sexy mistresses, and try on the $50,000 rings. Yep I went there. I chose the most fantastic ring ever, knowing full well there wasn’t a chance in hell he would buy it for me, and wrote it down as a choice. It was a cool $30,000 dollars. Next I went to the cheap section, chose a ring that was acceptable and very reasonable. IT was about $5,000. I didn’t want that ring. And now, I have to choose THE RING. I want to get the ring that I deserved. I choose a radiant cut 1.5 carat diamond ring with a Victorian setting. It was stunning. It was about $15,000 dollars. (Needless to say Saul’s Pawn Shop didn’t pay that much for it)  This is the ring that I wanted.  Being the master negotiator, spin selling salesperson I knew that my strategy would work. He went, he bought, he proposed. I was the luckiest girl in the world. For the entire 6 years that we were married there was not a single day that went by that someone didn’t stop me and say … OMG that ring is gorgeous. Or … OMG I have never seen a ring that beautiful before. Or … Your ring is amazing. Etc etc etc. That ring owned me. Sometimes I forget I don’t have it and touch my finger and feel panicked. Once I even cried when I realized it was gone. With that being said, I’m glad I pawned it. No one should love material possessions that much.

So. Dreams really do come true and I got exactly what I deserve. Another 6 years, in a living hell, with Mr. Right#2 that I met at the bar.  I wonder where I’ll meet #3?