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October 29, 2005

Flirting with Other Women

From Lani, cruising for the CWKs...

One quick note before I get started on today's blog: I'd like to apologize for the crickets that were here last week. We've had what you might call a slump here. Alesia just finished BLONDES HAVE MORE FELONS, which is fabulous but almost killed her. I just finished revisions on THE COMEBACK KISS - also fabulous, also a near-death experience. And Michelle has not one but two works up in the air, both of which are SO FABULOUS (she told me all about them and they're so, so, so good!) that I'm fearing for her wellness as I write this. So, we apologize for the crickets, and we think it's time we introduce you to their leader.

Jiminy, Cool Readers. Cool Readers, Jiminy.

Jiminy, the Cool Readers are very cool, as you know because they're here.

Cool Readers, Jiminy can be a tad self-righteous. If he tells you anything about doing what's right no matter what the consequences, tell him to bite you. And note - your nose? Will not grow if you lie. He totally made that up. Sanctimonious butthole.

With that out of the way...

... I have to admit something I've been kind of keeping a secret. It started a little after I got married, got worse after I had my first child, and continues to this day.

I flirt with other women.

Okay. Now I know how that sounds, and it's not what I mean. What I mean is that, since I got married, flirting with other men is, let's say, frowned upon. But it's hard to quit cold turkey. I mean, I've been flirting pretty much since I came out the chute. It's not like you can just turn it off.

But you can redirect it. After I got married, I found that now that I had me a man, I kinda wanted more women friends. Or better, couple-friends, the elusive combination of a married man and woman who can be good friends with both me and Fish. This, as it turns out, is very hard to find. Either the woman and I are totally tight and the guys are like, "Hey," or... well, the other alternative hasn't happened yet. Fish is, shall we say, a bit of a homebody. The only guys he ever goes out for a beer with are his brothers, and unless they're in town, he's pretty much all mine. Which I love, and which is great, but because I need time out with the girls, I need him to have time out with the guys, because...

... well, because I'm horribly selfish and it's all about me, me, me. Wow. Here I am writing a blog, and having an Oprah moment. Dude. That rocks.

Anyway, once I had kids, I started cruising for CWKs - chicks with kids. It started with the Mommy and Me group I went to in Anchorage, where I sat with a bunch of women who... hmmm. How do I describe them? Let's just say that I've seen Vice Presidents of national companies that are less competitive than these women.

"Hi," one would say to me, holding out her perfectly manicured hand, "I'm Gillian. I baked the apple pie there on the table. Did you see it? It's perfect, isn't it? You can't have any. It's my first perfect pie. You can smell it though, if you want. It smells great, doesn't it? Go ahead. Smell it."

"Oh!" the breastfeeding one would say, grabbing up a toddler with her free hand and holding him up like she'd just won an Oscar. "I knitted this sweater. Myself. While making little ladybug snacks out of tomatoes and raisins. My kids love tomato and raisin ladybugs, seriously. I know it sounds disgusting, but they love it. Really. And I love breastfeeding. It fulfills me. I'm going to breastfeed Abigail until she leaves for college. Phineas self-weaned." She'd sniff, and steal a sorrowful glance back at her six-year-old. "I couldn't stop him. It was beyond my control."

"Whatever," the skinny one in the back would say with a derisive snort. "I sewed Hannah's Halloween costume while giving birth to Madison, breastfeeding Fiona and hosting a dinner party for Thomas's doctor friends." She'd wink at me knowingly. "I had a bucket all ready for when my water broke. Didn't get any on the carpet, and my stitches on that costume? Flawless."

The one wearing green would just sit at the back table, scrapbooking furiously with a twitch in her right eye. I think she might have been saveable earlier on in the game, but by the time I got there she was too far gone.

What freaked me out most about these women wasn't that they'd done all these things, but that they were lying. Through their teeth. To impress... me. And not because I was anything special, but because I was alive on this planet and as such it was imperative that I see that THESE WOMEN WERE THE BEST MOTHERS EVER TO GRACE THE STAGE. It was Stepford-Wife creepy except CREEPIER because these women? Were real. I grabbed my kids and high-tailed it out of there, and I put an end to cruising for CWKs until I got over the PTSD.

Then, this year, at the bus stop. I met her. The CWK of my dreams. She's got three kids, all spanning roughly the same ages of my kids. The kids all get along great. And the CWK? Not crazy at all. Not scrapbooking while whipping up gourmet treats and having a facial. Totally normal, very cool, I really like her, and she lives in an apartment I can practically see from mine.

And... she's moving. I mean, yeah, she'll still be within a half-hour drive, but our kids won't be in school together anymore and it won't be easy to just take her kids so she can clean the bathroom or leave mine with her so I can run to the grocery store. I should have known it was too perfect to last.

:::sigh:::

Now, it's back to flirting at the bus stop.

I'm such a whore.

Posted by Lani at 6:00 AM | Comments (5)

Comments

Posted by: brittney at October 29, 2005 7:12 PM

Posted by: Cee Cee at October 30, 2005 12:33 PM

Posted by: Eileen at November 2, 2005 12:07 PM

Posted by: Elizabeth K. Mahon at November 4, 2005 1:34 PM

Posted by: Lani at November 4, 2005 3:48 PM