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Thanks, again, for your words of support on this post. We got a little good news today on the home front, so I’ll take that as we head into the weekend. Above is one of my favorite holiday songs for your enjoyment. By the way, this is a good weekend for a Bailey’s Martini or three…
Have a good one!
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Thank you to those who submitted links for me to include. If you see something around the web you think DW readers would appreciate, please send me a link to [email protected] and, if it’s a fit, I’ll include it in Friday’s round-up. Thanks!
It’s been one week since we moved into our new home — what was to be our forever home — and I am legit depressed. We looked for our home for so long, and were — we thought — so careful and thoughtful about our choice. We’d heard horror stories about NYC real estate and we didn’t want to be another sucker/victim/fool. We sought advice from knowledgable people. We retained a really smart and thorough lawyer. We did a lot of homework. But, man, we were really conned. This goes beyond just mold in the walls — which is a pretty easy fix — or regular headaches homeowners have to deal with. We were lied to, cheated, and taken for a ride, and it sucks. We don’t even know the extent of the con or how much it’s going to cost us (in money, time, our sanity). I don’t know if we’re going to stay in this home or in this city. Everything I thought was finally settled is now totally unsettled again and it’s… well, it’s a very unsettling feeling. Ugh. [click to continue…]
I have been in a very committed relationship for almost seven years now; I am a 26-year-old female, he is 34. About two years into the relationship he starting discussing marriage, we started looking at rings, and he brought that whole idea into my head. Years have past, and I’m still waiting. About a year ago, daily comments from people about why I was not married started eating at me. Why did he talk about “when we are married” and “our children” and “our future” and know how important marriage was only to make me keep waiting? Depressed and anxious, I questioned if we were on the same page which he followed with an angry, “If you want to know the truth, I already have the damn ring!” stab that I haven’t quite been able to shake. That was in November last year.
Since then, every vacation, trip, and weekend I’ve tried to look my best, but no proposal. After enduring the pain of my cousin’s AND his sister’s engagements, I’ve almost completely given up any hope. At this point, I feel like he could shove an engagement ring where the sun don’t shine. Ugh. Wendy! I love this man and would be lost without him! But I’m tired of being on his time and his time only! I’m sick of questioning myself, trying to better myself, wondering, wishing, and waiting. I am honestly harboring so much bitterness and resentment that at this point it’s almost as if, why the hell ask me now? I mean, am I supposed to jump for joy if he goes down on one knee? Scream, “Yay, I’m finally good enough! Seven years, and I guess I’ve finally washed enough of your clothes!”? My whole life revolves around his twisted time frame. Over the years there have been several occasions he has voiced his complaints about the expense of a ring and wedding and yet come home with a very expensive, several-thousand-dollar toy or, ahem, “investment.” What should I do? I feel that I am losing my mind. — Tired of Waiting