Are you Angry With Me?


How do you get angry and still look this attractive? Where are her furrowed brow wrinkles?

Sometimes a piece of “wise” advice backfires on you. When I was just 18, I had an unusual insecurity — a belief that certain people in my life might be upset with me. And not just slightly miffed. We’re talking thoroughly outraged or really furious. Only nobody ever voiced it. Instead they just gave me dirty looks, or treated me differently.

But was this an accurate perception or could I be imagining things?

My therapist (who was probably thrilled this was one of my more straightforward issues) had a simple cure. She told me, “Just ask them.”

Now why didn’t I think of that? Here’s how that’s worked out for me so far.

With Tiffany, My Oldest Girlfriend:

Me: Hi Tiff. I’m feeling like you’ve been treating me differently lately. Are you mad at me?

Tiffany: Are you getting neurotic again?

Me: Maybe. Would that make you mad?

Tiffany:  Because last time you got weird like this, we had to do that friendship circle thingy where we joined hands and recalled boys we liked in 6th grade and frankly I’m menopausal now and can’t even remember what I ate for breakfast.

With My First Husband:

Me: Are you mad?

1st Husband: Stephanie, I am not mad. Mad means insane.

Me: Sorry. I meant are you angry?

1st Husband: I am very irritated.You call yourself a writer and haven’t learned this difference by now?

With My Mother:

Me: Hi Ma. I’ve been feeling like you could be angry with me recently. Thought I’d check. Are you?

My Mother: No. But IF I were angry with you, what might it be for?

Me: Um. Maybe I don’t call you often enough?

My Mother: Could that be true?

Me: No, I don’t think so.

My Mother: Well what other reason do you suppose there could be?

Me: Uh, last Mother’s Day, I promised we’d go to lunch and we haven’t?

My Mother: Warmer . . .

With My Daughter:

Me: Are you upset with me for something?

Daughter: Is that your way of saying I’m in big trouble?

Me: Huh?

Daughter: You know. You reverse things. You’re really the one upset with me, right? Just tell me, Mom!

With My Second Husband:

Me: We hardly talk anymore. Are you angry with me?

2nd Husband: No.

Me: Okay good, just checking.

2nd Husband: You do that a lot.

Me:  I know. I’ve learned in therapy not to make assumptions. I’m glad everything is fine.

2nd Husband: Yes. But we should get a divorce.

With My Neighbor:

Me: When I saw you at the mailbox yesterday, you didn’t wave back. Are you upset with me?

Neighbor: No.

Me:  Well would you tell me if you were?

Neighbor:  No.

With My Fiancé:

Me: Hi. Are you angry with me?

Fiancé: You’d know if I were angry.

Me: I thought I did know. But I wanted to ask to confirm.

Fiancé: I’ve told you before, if I’m angry I’ll tell you directly.

Me: About how soon do you think you’d announce it?

Fiancé: Immediately. I wouldn’t conceal it.

Me: Are you insinuating that I conceal it? That I am passive aggressive?

Fiancé: What? Certainly not! Now you’re just mad.

Me: Don’t you mean angry? Because mad means a raving lunatic or crazy.

Fiancé:  I know exactly what mad means.

With My Therapist:

Me: I’m so angry with you. I want my money back from 34 years ago. Your advice about asking if people are angry doesn’t ever work.

Therapist: I know, I know. But I thought you’d figure that out on your own, and at least it would give you some blogging material on a day you ran dry and your followers would get a chuckle and it might even elicit some good comments.

Me:  Ohhhhh, pure genius. Thank you!

Dear Readers: So are you mad? And I mean angry, not insane. Leave me any comments below. I can take it, really I can. 

An Open (Mopin’, Copin’, Gropin’ & Hopin’) Letter to the Internet:

To My Dearest Internet . . .

To My Dearest Internet . . .

Dear Internet,

Some days you’re a treasure I’d never replace – –  just wanna send you a Cyber Hug.

Other days, you’re nothing but a huge disgrace  – – just wanna pull your darn plug.

Without you, I wouldn’t have found a website to meet the Man of My Dreams,

Or discovered that Organic Farm Raised salmon isn’t always what it seems.

Farm raised or Wild?  The Internet has the scoop on which is worse for you!  Oh and google, "blackened lemons" you'll be outraged at what that does to your health!

Farm-Raised or Wild? The Internet has the scoop on which is worse for you! Oh and google, “blackened lemons” you’ll be outraged at what that does to your health!

Thank goodness you give me the opportunity to cleverly Google. . .

“How to find free coupons” so I can actually claim to be frugal.

You’re adorable – –  everyday I can see another cute, little kitten,

Or check out WordPress for new great posts *that’ve recently been written.

But when I look up  *“that’ve”  on the online Webster Dictionary,

to make sure it’s a true contraction, I find out it’s purely *Fictionary!

Oh wait, there’s more! I search and find  *“Fictionary”  is also not a real word?

You’re wasting my time with all this obsessive checking, it’s totally absurd!

But thanks for letting me bank, shop, and rent movies with a click – – so convenient.

Until lotsa time gets wasted when your Password Prompts aren’t very lenient.

The name of my first pet? First boyfriend? First Pimp? Which town did I go to school in?

No, you didn’t really ask me the Pimp question, I confess I was sorta just foolin’!

And you SHOULD Remember them.  But how??  Who was my first boyfriend anyway?  The boy I passed notes to?  The boy I hit?  The boy I kissed?  The boy I . . . ?

And you SHOULD Remember them. But how?? Who was my first boyfriend anyway? The boy I passed notes to? The boy I hit? The boy I kissed? The boy I . . . ?

But then you eagerly insist I type some odd code to prove I’m a real person,

A string of nonsense so hard to decipher, my disdain for you starts to worsen.

Why do you need my information to be so secure, so precise and so exact?

I found out the other day, it’s because people like me tend to get hacked!

Go ahead – – mess up my accounts, my Facebook, blogs, & email – – there’s nothing left,

Before the invention of you, Dear Internet, there wasn’t this much Identity Theft!

Well if they become me, they’ll get my poor memory, my big hair, plus six kids galore,

Come to think of it, even I don’t really desire to be Me anymore!!

But one things for sure, you need to stop making everything be about sex,

In that way, Dear Internet –  –  you actually remind me an awful lot of my Ex.

We can filter our drinking water, our swimming pools, our coffee, and an aquarium.  But can we filter out S-E-X ??

We can filter our drinking water, our swimming pools, our coffee, and an aquarium. But can we filter out S-E-X  from the Internet??

My Ex loved computers and when we divorced, shortly after his move-out evacuation. . .

I inherited his Apple before I knew how to use it – – I call it “Premature iMaculation.”

“Hey! This is Little Miss Menopause’s Ex-husband chiming in, none of this is true,

It seems she writes whatever she wants about me, and her Followers have no clue!”

See Dear Internet?  Even a simple poem that I compose for you is subject to a hijacking.

If I were smarter, I would write on a typewriter – – and just like my Ex, send you packing!

Well it looks as though (at least for the foreseeable future) you’re staying a big part of my life,

But no more Info about Cleaning, Recipes for Dinner, and Sex – – I am sooo NOT your Wife!!


Disclaimer:  “Man of Dreams” and “Ex Husband” mentioned without their permission.  They comment here regularly.  Please visit their WordPress blogs as way of compensation for “good-natured” participation.









Forget “50 Ways To Leave Your Lover!”

photo-261Can you stay friends with your Ex?? Some people might think there’s a word missing from that sentence. It’s supposed to say Ex-Smoker or an Ex-Sister-in-law or an Ex-Con, right?  Um, no.  Just plain Ex.  As in your Ex-Spouse or Ex-boy/girlfriend.  Well in that case – – the answer is obviously a resounding, “No!” Right?

Next blog, please!

But hold on just a minute.  I am here to suggest otherwise.  I am actually proof of otherwise.  Sort of.  You see with my first divorce, even though we have kids together – – we don’t speak except for the essentials. Arranging the Time for drop-off and pick-up, report cards, orthodontist bills, etc. Second divorce, I decided to do the exact opposite to see if it would lead to better results.  Not only would we stay civil, but we would stay good friends. Having done it both ways, I am now going to write the sequel to Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.  The Ex plays both parts.

When you stay Bitter Enemies you always know exactly where things stand!

First Ex:   Because of the holiday, the check was delayed in the mail.

Me:   Assuming you sent it.

First Ex:  F**K   You.

Me:  Jerk.

First Ex:  Goodbye Bitch.

So that pretty much followed the “expedient and effective ex-spouse communication” formula called:   “L.I.S.T.E.N”  =   Lemme Insinuate Something Terrible,  End Neatly.

But let’s see what things sound like when you’re “Good Friends.”

Second Ex:  Hi there!  What time is the birthday party tonight?

Me:  Silly me.  I thought I told you several times already.  6:30.  Looking forward to having you.  Oh, and you wrapped his present, right?

Second Ex:  No. I thought you would do that.  You’re so much better at it than I am.

Me:  How sweet of you to say, Dear-heart.  Okay, I’ll come pick it up so I’ll have time to get it ready beforehand.

Second Ex:  Great, give me an hour while I go out and find something.

Me:  Oh?  Are you saying you haven’t bought our son, who turned ten years old as of 8:20 this morning, his own birthday present yet?

Second Ex:  Thank you for reminding me of that pertinent information, Miss Organizational Queen.

Me:  You’re welcome.  Nothing ever changes.  I give you one simple assignment…

Second Ex:  Excuuuuse me!  Some people work all week long.

Me:  And what do you call cleaning, cooking, laundry, bathing, helping with homework, refereeing fights, carpooling. . .

Second Ex:  Watching soap operas and eating Bon-Bons  and. . . Hello?  Hello, are you still there??

What is a Bon-Bon anyhow??

What exactly do you think could be inside one of these things?

What exactly do you think could be inside one of these things?

So in case you’re wondering, the above conversation followed the “communication while staying friends with your Ex-Spouse” formula known as:   “P.O.L.I.T.E”  =  “Pretend obedience, Laser Insult, Then Eradicate!”

 But Now . . . It’s Party Time!

Me:  Hey everybody — – you remember my first husband?  He can’t stay.  He just came over to drop by a check that  was  (throat clearing sounds)  “lost” in the mail.

First Ex:   Do you have a pen?

Me:  Oh? You got over your anal phase and don’t carry one anymore?  Wait by the door please.

Second Ex: (striding confidently past first ex)  Hi everyone!  Sorry I’m late.  The shopping mall was packed.  Something smells wonderful!

Me:  You always did like my Meatloaf.

Second Ex:  Yes, your meatloaf inspired me.  To become a Vegetarian.

Me:  Oh my favorite Big Fat Comic, you!   So, from the looks of that wrapping paper, you got him a basketball?

Second Ex:  Still that Nosy Little Sleuth I love!

Me:  But he already has two.

Second Ex:  If you ever bothered to play basketball, you might know that when they’re old, they bounce crooked.

Me:  Of course.  You would be very familiar with being off-balanced.

Second Ex:  I also brought our pretty little hostess something.  The extraordinary mother of my wonderful children, who always sets the example of never showing up empty-handed.  Here’s another box of chocolate Bon-Bon’s for you.  I had the feeling you’re running low.

Me:  How thoughtful.  Now Get Out.  This is MY house now.  Leave this instant!  You passive-aggressive, rude…

Second Ex:  Fine.  I’ll just take MY ball and go home.  And that’s MY big-screen television.  I’ll just go into the garage and get MY toolkit to remove it from the wall.

First Ex:  Lemme give you a hand with that.

Second Ex:  Hey, thanks.   You ever shoot hoops?

First Ex:  Always time for a little One-on-One.

Second Ex:  Excellent.  Grab us some beers and we’ll play on our court in back.

“I’ve seen more action than anyone in this house!”

First Ex:  You mean on MY court.  I  poured that concrete and installed that net when I was married to her.

Second Ex:  And you have my sympathies for lasting as long as you did, Man.

Now Dear Reader, please excuse me whilst I change the title of this blog from “Can You Stay Friends With An Ex?”  to  “Can Your EXes Be Friends With Each Other? And if you don’t mind, I will not be answering that insane, ludicrous question at the moment.

What do you think?  Should you stay friends with an Ex?  Please tell me in the comments.