Things I Can’t Possibly Understand

Calculus.

Physics.

Mandarin Chinese.

What my exhusband calls “research”.

Oh wait, I actually can understand that… I just know it by a different term: stalking.

He did this once before and was basically pummeled by a judge in court over it. His lawyer lauded his “research” and praised her client for “such dedication” as she ran her thick fingers over the front covers of his THREE 4″ 3-ring binders loaded with every thing I have ever done or said or considered saying on the internet. Yep. He stalked my MySpace blog (back when I had one) and he infiltrated my mom’s message board and created a fake user name specifically to track how much time I spent online (based on an algorithmic formula of words typed divided by the square root of projected time online) and exactly WHAT I was up to online… Because what else is a working single mother going to be doing online?

She’s probably a terrorist, he thought (allegedly). (I’m sure). (Probably).

And he found poetry. And reports on life and how hard it was having to trek in and out of court with an exhusband so full hate-rage. How frustrating it was to get shoved into mediation and then, after hours and hours of discussions and trying to meet in the middle, only to be booted right out of mediation because the exhusband had “changed his mind.”

The judge asked him, “Do you collect stamps?”

He made the classic “him” quizzical look at her. The one that says, “What the fuck are you some kind of ruh-tard?” The one that, when you aren’t expecting it, has the power to make you feel tiny and insignificant and stupid… And he replied, “I beg your pardon?”

The judge continued, “Do you like baseball cards?”

He continued to look at her like she was sitting up behind her tall desk with a trio of chickens balancing on her head, all juggling.

She went on to admonish him for being so caught up in his exwife’s life and completely ignoring his fiance over there, on the front row, supporting him. What an embarrassment.

He actually confessed in an email to me recently — a heated one (like so many of our emails) — that he does this “research” so that he can keep up with our son’s day to day life.

Well, firstaball, I don’t blog daily.

Second…aball… I don’t blog about my son’s day to day life.

And finally, if he was REALLY so interested in his son’s life, do you think he would have given up 50% of his visitation last year when I moved 11 miles closer to him because (and I’m paraphrasing the entire whiny email here) traffic was too hard in the mornings?

I just wish I could have a popup service him when he visits (which is often, y’all.. I’ve got statcounter and it’s pretty clear when there are DOZENS of page loads from his city all from the same ISP, like… DUR) that would say, “Hey, dude… What color shirt did your wife put on today? Do you recall what you ate for lunch today? Do you realize how pathetic it is to stalk your exwife’s personal blog on the internet?” And then, when he tries to click away, it pops up another message, “Are you sure you want to continue living this shell of a life where you aren’t really living at all?”

It would be awesome if it could be a persistent pop-up, like one of those that keeps popping up more popups until your blessed computer wheezes under the pressure and then finally freezes.

That would be awesome.

OR… Another solution: he could just take a look at his life and realize that there is magic in every moment that he is missing while he quietly obsesses over my life…

While I am dancing — spinning circles — in the magic that IS my life.

Life is good. Love is grand. Work is awesome.

Exhusbands can be really lame. Here’s hoping he’ll turn his life around and start living.