So… Super Bowl Love Blues… (2009-2010 Season)

Every year, me, my ex and our son used to go to annual family Super Bowl Party. For anyone who lives under a rock, the Super Bowl is the Season finale of the NFL. (The National Football League) With that said, since he and I no longer together, I wanted to do something different. So when my friend invited me to a Super Bowl party in a penthouse, I said yes. No family camaraderie, just me. Now a small fish in a big pond.

So here I am. In a beautiful penthouse with beautiful people. Grownups. I hand over my bottle of rum, which is my admission fee and I claim my seat. I was early enough to get a chair in front of the TV. The best seat in the house.

I grab a beer and plant myself. The game began and still no sight of my friend. Wearing my Indianapolis Colts shirt, so everyone knows what team I’m going for. There’s a lot of fence people, people that don’t take a position on a team and talk the most crap if your team loses. So let the shyt talking begin. And I gave it back! 

Towards the end of the party, it was evident that my team lost. My Colts were defeated. And it was ugly. I had talked so much crap through that game and now I realized how alone I was. I didn’t know these people. Then my phone rang. It was my ex. He wanted to know why I didn’t come to the annual party. After all, it was an almost 10-year tradition. And I broke it.

I made an excuse that I was on my way and fell asleep on the train. Defeated, I was back on my way home. When I hung up the phone after lying to him, it hit me. Hard. I began to cry. Some dumb-ass loser came outside and told people in the party that I was crying because my team lost and I was drunk. WHOA! Wait a minute!

I was fun, even the life of the party at times, but now I was down. Feeling really low. The buzz was so big about me and my state of mind, the hostess of the party came outside to see how I was.

By the time she came out, I was now hysterical. I was upset with myself, upset with why I was put into the position of trying to move on and I definitely was tired of people asking me if I was OK.

I cried because I just realized how hard I was trying to move on. And I couldn’t. At that moment, I wanted my family back and wished I were there with them. But we and I were over. And the reality of the finality of it all, hit me like a ton of bricks.

The Big House

Like most women, I want the big house, 5 bedrooms, 4 ½ baths, gorgeous kitchen, dining room, walk-in closet for my hundreds of shoes and the big yard for my son to play in, etc...

Hey, it’s my dream.

As a mother, giving my son “the good life”, with amenities is my job.

Making the quality of my son’s life better so that he doesn’t have to worry about the small things like not being able to play in our badass neighborhood. Or the big things like bussing him 2 hours away from home so that he’d have great opportunities because he went to a great school.

On my last vacation, I stayed in that kind of beautiful house with all of those things I always wanted in a house. And... it was too big. I’m a single mother to one son and to be perfectly honest, although it’s something I’ve always wanted, I haven’t truly and realistically envisioned myself having that actual house.

My sister and I were online looking at houses. Again, I mentioned how big that house was, and subsequent models thereafter, she said, “Why do you plan on being alone?” "HUH?"

She said, “Hear me out. You actually would deprive yourself of the dream of having the big house you’ve always wanted because you think you will be alone? Why do you think that you will never find that someone to share your life with, besides your son?

Wow. I hadn’t thought about it like that before. I was subconsciously denying my future companion.

My son is always at the top of my list. Making a life for myself, with someone for myself never realistically came to mind.

I do want someone in my life to love and fill that house with me, having the den we can have football Sunday, karaoke Fridays and host Super Bowl parties in. Him having his “man cave”. Someone that will toss the football in the yard with my son.

I want that life. I’d better act like it, before I push that blessing away too.