Man-Wife’s Bitch Finds Someone New

Maybe that title was a little much. It’s not that I’m angry. Or jealous. I mean… it all worked out, right?

As this is the second in a to-be-continued…we can also call this “The Bartender- Part II.” But let’s be honest. My original title is way better. (And the security in my current relationship allows me to write about those feelings which I no longer feel).

After many months of dating, and not an ounce of jealousy on my end (which was relatively unusual for Chrissy…just wait until I tell you about “the crazy years” I don’t think Brian’s ready for that…), The Bartender went back to school for the fall semester. Things were supposedly progressing quite nicely…he had planned his schedule around mine, so that we could have more time to go out and spend together.

It was then that I started hearing about Kirsten (Keer-sten), which I think is the dumbest name on the planet. (I’m really sorry if you are reading this and your name is Kirsten. You probably think Chrissy is a dumb name. Which is okay… Meanie.)

Kirsten’s family had season tickets to the Bears, just like Mom’s friend has season tickets to the Bears. They apparently bonded over the fact that they were both going to the pre-season game that I was taking The Bartender to. As if you couldn’t already tell, I was a little jealous. But not a lot.

For his birthday, I took The Bartender to a Blackhawk’s game. Where we ran into Dennis Savard on our way to our seats. It was really fuckin’ cool.

But shortly after his birthday, The Bartender started getting weird. He was a little more distant and I could tell something was up. So we talked about it. And he wasn’t sure. About the us thing. He told me that I seemed so sure and he just wasn’t. I told him, truthfully, that I wasn’t sure either, but that getting there was part of the fun. At the time, I couldn’t imagine going through the dating scene again.

So, I fought. I fought for him, even though I hated the way he gambled. I hated the way he always chose Man-Wife. I hated that he almost never seemed to have anything interesting to say. I hated that he never listened to me when I offered help or made suggestions. I hated that he wouldn’t accept academic help from my physical therapist friends (his chosen future profession). I hated the way he got super pissed (like scary mad) when I kicked his ass at Scrabble. I hated his obnoxious commentary on the Cubs, just to piss me off. I hated that all of his conversations went back to horse races or gambling boats. I hated that he never wanted to just hang out and snuggle. I hated that I felt like I was so much smarter than him.

Then a few months later…(while I was treating him to a fancy pants dinner that the secret shopping company was paying me to eat) The Bartender told me that he might be able to buy tickets to the Packers/Bears game. Oooohh! Exciting! Oh…right…and that he wouldn’t be taking me.

He was going to buy them to take Man-Wife.

WTF?

He was going to buy them from Kirsten.

WTF?

So I got a little upset. Though I was reasonable. And the subject was moot, because he wasn’t sure.

A week later, I excitedly told The Bartender that I was getting FREE Bears/Packers tickets.

He still bought tickets from Kirsten. He still planned to go with Man-Wife. This time, I was not reasonable. I was really fuckin’ pissed, and sad, and upset, and confused, and bewildered, and a million other things that I didn’t even know how to verbalize.

After a pretty hefty fight, The Bartender finally agreed to give Man-Wife and his brother the tickets as an early Christmas present and attend the game with me.

It was at that game that I discovered several things:

1. Tiny little Kirsten and her tiny little girlfriend, both wearing pink Bears clothes (ICK), were also in the seats. Apparently, The Bartender was not only fighting with me to pay to see a game with Man-Wife…he wanted to pay to see the game with Kiiiiirsten.

2. Kirsten’s seats were just a few rows away from the seats I frequent. (This would later become a problem.)

3. I hated Kirsten.

Less than a month after that encounter…Just two days after New Year’s… (The New Year’s that my boyfriend refused to request off to spend with me)…My boyfriend dumped me. I should have known based on the fact that my boyfriend of almost a year gave me a DVD for Christmas…(and gave my parents an autographed baseball). But I didn’t. I had no clue.

But he did. And I was…surprisingly okay. I cried some. I drank a lot. I escaped to Peoria to spend time with my lovies. But for the first time in my relationship life, I was okay within a week. The crying just…stopped. Easily. It was like I knew all along that he wasn’t the one.

Being Dumped Didn't Stop Me From Rockin' Out

And it wasn’t totally easy… I mean, I still got super panicky going anywhere near The Bartender or his place of employment. Like physically ill panicky. It was bad. And when I had to watch the Bartender and pink-clad Kirsten making out at several of the following season’s Bears games, I was less than thrilled.

But when I think I saw The Bartender a few weeks ago, I was fine. (I could barely tell if it was him. But I think it was.)

Of course, I’m of the belief that everything happens for a reason. If it weren’t for The Bartender, I wouldn’t have felt that I was worthy of the amazing-ness that is Brian. I would never in a million years thought that I was good enough for him. But I learned from The Bartender that I needed someone smarter than me (OK, just as smart, but in different ways). Someone who liked nerdy things. Someone who would think my quirks were adorable. Someone who had endearing quirks. Someone who I could love unconditionally. Someone who just…got it. Got me.

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

The Bartender

Good morning friends (I figure if you’re reading my shit, we’re buds now, right?) We’ve been playing this oh-so-fun Chrissy’s life blog for a while now… It’s time I started telling you about boys. I think I’ll work backwards and start with my last real relationship before Brian.

Let me preface this by telling you about my state of mind when I met The Bartender(Please see my post about nicknames). I had just left my full time job as a catering manager to pursue a master’s degree in education. I was on the verge of claiming bankruptcy, I lived at home with my parents, I had no job, no money, and didn’t exactly feel “on top of the world.”

I met The Bartender at a Jaycees event, where he was bartending. We flirted all afternoon, and he seemed so adorable, I couldn’t help myself. The fact that he was flirting with me, even though I was covered in chili and wearing a hoodie…spoke volumes.

When I met the bartender

I’m pretty sure I hadn’t washed my hair in a few days, either…

The day I met my ex-boyfriend

You can’t see it, but there’s a HUGE chili stain on that hoodie…

I walked up to the bar with a plan. My bestie, Lily, and another friend, Ana, were there at the far end of the bar cheering me on. I strutted my bravado over to the bar and called The Bartender over. He asked if I wanted another pitcher, but instead of replying, (mostly, because if I didn’t do it immediately, I would lose all balls) I shook my head “no,” and used my favorite pick-up line at the time, “So,” insert the most sickeningly sweet, unbelievably adorable, irresistible smile “If I gave you my number, would you call me?”

Now, I’ve used this line, dozens of times…and to be perfectly honest, this is the ONLY time it worked and the guy actually called. We chatted. We flirted. He asked me on a date. It was kind of cute.

I dated The Bartender for a little under a year. But I knew for the better part of that year that I was, in fact, settling. As evident by the fact that I am no longer with The Bartender, it all worked out as it was supposed to. But at the time, I really would have stayed with him, for fear of never finding someone else to love me.

Except that…my quirks weren’t adorable. They were annoying. His quirks weren’t endearing. They were ridiculous.

The Bartender lived in this weirdly fucked up situation that I didn’t quite understand at first. He was in his early 30’s working towards his bachelor’s degree and bartending. So we were both in school. We were both poor. I lived at home with my parents…

He lived at someone’s home with that someone’s parents. Who? You might ask… Well I called him Man-Wife. Man-Wife was an older gentleman…I never discovered Man-Wife’s age, but for all intents and purposes, let’s say he was in his early to mid 40’s. Man-Wife and The Bartender shared a room. Two queen sized beds in one grown up room. I should have run screaming. But The Bartender was nice. And I needed a little nice in my life.

The Bartender was a sports fan (Bears, Blackhawks), but he was also a Cubs fan. This, I’ve discovered, tends to be a deal-breaker. It would have been fine, if The Bartender had ceased the obnoxious ranting on and on with stats about the Cubs. I couldn’t have cared less.

Now, the bartender was also a Bears fan… I even took him to his very first game. Lucky Bartender. He bought me a Bears jersey for my birthday. My first real-ish (non-Walmart) jersey. Of course, he informed me later that the only reason he could afford that fancy pants present was because he had won big at the boat. This was not endearing to me.

I really don’t like gambling. I went through a brief phase in my life in which I would spend a few dollars at the boat in order to procure free hotel rooms in Peoria. This seemed reasonable. But if I lost money, I was always very mad at myself…and I missed the shoes that I could have bought with that money.

Man-Wife loved gambling. Man-Wife, his mom, his dad, his brother, and The Bartender all loved gambling. That was their thing.

That and being crazy. The Bartender let Man-Wife and family dominate his world. This is probably a testament of The Bartender and I not being right for each other, but if The Bartender and I tried to make plans or he wasn’t going to be home when he said he was, he would have to call for permission. And sometimes Man-Wife would bitch at him for being late. For not coming home to cook dinner. For not going grocery shopping as a family.

Man-Wife. Noooo thank you.

The Bartender lasted for a good percentage of my adult life to date…so he warrants a two-part story…

To be continued… The Bartender Part II

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!