Embarrassing Memory Lane

The following entry was written especially for Mommybloggers.com when they so kindly asked to profile me a while back. I was reminded of it when Plain Jane Mom asked for people’s most embarrassing stories (go check out her contest) and I thought it might make a good re-post over here since I have been too busy (making up for doing absolutely nothing about the holidays for the better part of December) to tend to my poor neglected blog. As I write this she’s wearing a five day old post. That’s just sad. And so, because of my Lazy McSlackerass ways, I’m double-dipping and licking my fingers, just like that nasty Paula Deen on the Food Network.

Enjoy :)

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I was reading a post tonight that got me thinking about a really embarrassing moment that I experienced about 10 years ago. Of course it didn’t feel like a moment. It felt like an hour. An excruciating, in-slow-motion hour that still makes me cringe to this day.I cordially invite you to share in a little skate down embarrassing memory lane…

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The boyfriend I had before I married my husband was an ass. Why I stayed with him for four years is mostly a mystery to me. I mean I understood that he manipulated me and guilt-tripped me into staying so many times when I was already out the door. But I never understood how anyone, even a guilt-inducing master manipulator could convince me to stay in a relationship that had become so totally dysfunctional and unsatisfying…but he always did.

Until one day when I walked out and never came back. We never really settled anything or hashed anything out. It was just over. Like that. And within a couple weeks, he had another girl living with him. It was then that I realized it wasn’t me that he had needed all those years. It could have been anyone. He just needed a warm body nearby because he hated to be alone. And that made me really angry with him for wasting four years of my life. And my pride was a little bruised. But I swallowed all that and moved on with my new boyfriend/future husband (who I happened to have met from the ex…nyah nyah!)

Fast forward a couple years. The huz and I are happily married. We’re doing great. Except me, forever hallucinating that I was fat (HA! I was about 25 lbs lighter than I am now), decide I need to get more exercise and conclude that the rollerblading craze that was sweeping the nation was the perfect way to achieve this. I nag the huz until he gets himself a pair of rollerblades, too, so we can do it together.

It’s gonna be GREAT FUN! Never mind that we are NOT exercising-fresh air-rollerblading kind of people. We’re doing it anyway, dammit!

So one day, I suggest that we rollerblade to our friend’s apartment and stop for a visit. I put on a halter top and a pair of stretchy bike shorts (it’s reallllly hot out) and we proceed with the plan. We skate for a while and finally reach my friend’s apartment building but we don‘t see his car. He’s not home. Oh well…we turn around and start to go back the way we came.

As I’m crossing the road, I look to my right and I see it. The green VW bus that I knew so well is chugging down the street. It’s about a block away and coming right at me.

It’s HIM.

The ex.

I hustle to get out of the street, hoping against hope that we can get out of there without any interaction. I’m stiff yet spaghetti limbed and I feel like I’m in total slow motion. And before I can do anything to stop it, I wipe out RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIM! On my ass!

I look at him through the windshield and our eyes meet. I’m positive he recognizes me despite my braid and sunglasses. I turn away so I don’t have to see his reaction. I can’t bear it.

I make it to the side of the street, clomp up on the grass and skate away on the sidewalk as fast as I possibly can. I don’t wait for my husband. I don’t stop to inspect my numerous bleeding wounds, including some pretty bad road rash on my upper thigh right below my butt. I just want to disappear before I die of embarrassment.

Once we were out of sight, I asked my husband if he thought there was a chance he didn’t recognize us. Please say yes!

“Uh no…I’m pretty sure he did,” said the huz, just before he broke into gales of laughter while trying hard to bite his lip and look somber out of respect for my beaten and bludgeoned ego.

To this day, he is not allowed to speak of the incident under penalty of divorce.