Tales From The Anonymous Divorced Witchbabe - Chapter 4
ANONYMOUS DIVORCED WITCHBABE
Saturday, May 11, 2002
Well, it’s happened again, my friends. Your Faithful Blogger has been blown off for no apparent reason by another goddamn man.
I am FURIOUS with Professor. He doesn’t call back or acknowledge my e-mails – too many men are like this. Maybe it’s because this is the Internet Age. I mean, I met him on Match, we didn’t exchange many e-mails beforehand – so we barely knew each other when we got together.
Men are such assholes – they won’t tell you what you did wrong, they just leave you to wonder if you’re too old, too fat, not pretty enough, was there another woman? I know not to tell men up front I’m a witch – you wait until after they’ve gotten to know you – and you never ‘interrogate’ them for the job of husband and/or father. (Thanks, guys, your e-mails have taught me well.) We seemed to get along, we didn’t run out of things to talk about. Did I say something wrong? Maybe I should just shut the hell up entirely!
So here I sit on a Saturday night, alone, no pelvis-grinding and I’m desperately horny after those hot kisses. And I’m furious how he led me on, whether he meant to or not. They never mean to, do they? Now my self-esteem is shot a little more, and I wonder whether I should even freaking bother, if men are all so uniformly cruel.
I guess you guys are going to e-mail me now and say it’s just desserts for ditching Sniper Boy on a date. And maybe you’re right. But you know what? I didn’t get to the point where I could even do something like that without a lot of help from MEN. After Ex-Hubby moved to Arizona and the divorce papers were signed and I felt I was ready for the dating scene, I went back with a clear heart and the determination to treat men decently. But someone changed the rules while I was away.
It’s now okay, apparently, to treat people like shit. We all come back to the scene a little bit damaged, and I guess some conclude it’s their duty to make sure we’re damaged some more. It creates a nasty, ugly, vicious cycle. I’m crying my ass off. I’m pretty goddamn disposable, I guess. Ex-Hubby blithely divorced me without any further thought, and men on Match and the off-line agency all claim they want a girlfriend, or a wife, or whatever. It’s ALL bullshit.
I’m sure I’ll get e-mails from guys reminding me of all the shitty things women have done to them. Have at it, because I don’t care. You probably deserved it.
When I realized this afternoon that Professor had without question gotten all my messages and just didn’t have the ‘nads to tell me he didn’t want to see me anymore, I poured myself a Witchbabe Special and drank it while I cried my ass off in the shower. I know getting drunk is a dumb childish thing to do. Reminds me of my college days. But I just wanted respite from the pain. Enough already. Fuck Match, fuck the dating agency, fuck every goddamn damaged man who can’t handle a relationship and – oh, fuck it all.
I’m a fading, almost middle-aged woman. I see the streaks of gray I’ve been ignoring (now they seem like rivers of gray) and the fine lines around my eyes (still mostly only when I smile) and my hair has that kind of gross middle-aged look you see at the gym. It’s no longer as sleek as before, it waves in all the wrong places and looks more like an old perm, even though I’ve never had one. I’ve gotten a bit chunky around the hips and belly and my fashion sense is all shot to hell and I look like a frumpy loser. I was a crappy ugly wife which was why my ex left me, and why no one wants me now.
Plus, men are sexless, emotionless robots....<continued here>
About the Author:
Nicole Chardenet has been a practicing Pagan for 25 years. She belonged to a witches’ circle in central Connecticut and now lives with Belladonna, her furry black peculiar, in Toronto, where she is more a Pagan with Buddhist leanings. She has three other novels on Amazon and Barnes & Noble. Tales From The Anonymous Divorced Witchbabe is her first dark fantasy novel. Click here to find Nicole on Amazon, and her books, too!