Excuse Me for Being an Idiot

At my bridal shower I had this brilliant idea (all of my ideas are brilliant) for everyone to make a painting.  Well, contribute to one big painting, rather.  We got this giant canvas and put it outside with paint, brushes, palettes, blah, blah, blah... you get the idea.  Throughout the afternoon people went outside and painted on it.  Whatever they wanted.  Of course the kids had a blast.  The adults were terrified by it.  “What should I make?”  “Will it be good enough?”  Shit like that.  This is why I love children.  Just fucking paint!  One of the kids wrote “lip gloss” on it, an homage to my Lippy addiction, which was perfect.  I had actually received some Lippy as a gift that day.  If there are three things in this world that I love, it’s children, art, and Lippy.  

I, of course, was completely oblivious to the fact that C (the now ex-husband) had no idea what the purpose of such an activity was, and in no way, shape, or form thought it was a good idea.  I got the same response from him when I suggested we take a picture from our wedding and make it into a pop-art painting a la Roy Lichtenstein, of whom C knew nothing.  Not that I cared if he knew about Roy Lichtenstein, but come on!  That was a great idea (all of my ideas are great)!  I’m no art snob, but I am tickled by art.  Plus, who wouldn’t want to see one of their candid wedding photos in all of it’s comic book glory with a huge cartoon bubble that read, “You’ll do?”  Those were, after all, his wedding vows to me.  “You’ll do.”  Guess I really won’t.

There was such a disconnect between who I was and who C wanted me to be.  It took me a very long time to see it, but other people did.  I know because they’ve since told me so.  I have always just been me, in all of my glory and shame, mostly shame, but still just me.  I think it’s fair to say that most people enjoy my company, at least for awhile.  I’ve been told that my energy is infectious and it makes people want to be around me.  Maybe, but it does wear off.  I’m a rule-breaker, I have no respect for authority, and in general, do not give a shit what you or anyone else thinks about me.  Unless I do.  

There always comes a point when someone realizes that I’m not going to be reigned in anytime soon, and that could prove a slight inconvenience to the ideal world they’ve created for themselves.  No one wants to worry that their significant other will say, “These sweet potatoes are fucking amazing!”, in front of grandma at Thanksgiving.  For the record, sweet potatoes are fucking amazing, and it warrants repeating.

So, I walk around in my own little world most of the time, thinking that everyone totally gets me.  Until they don’t.  Then I’m devastated to learn that I could have been so wrong.  As is the case with C.  I’m pretty sure, looking back, that he never got me.  Oh he did a fine  job of acting like he did for awhile, and even though he kicked my ass to the curb, ultimately I got to see his true colors.  I’m actually very thankful for that.  I know people say this all of the time, but it this case it really is true, I deserve better than him.  I probably don’t deserve better than John Stamos though...oh baby...