Mary Panza

I knew something wasn’t right. It kept bothering me and for the life of me I couldn’t figure it out. Then, I did.

So the last Housewife Tuesday I wrote was about an asshole I dated. He is still an asshole; that has not changed. What was bothering me was why he contacted me in the first place. It had to be more than to insult me and then ask me to lunch. I think Freud once said something like sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. I, of course, thought it was he wanted to bang me. I mean, just look at me. Come on, I am sex in orthotics. At least, I think so.

I had blocked him from my phone, email, and face book. I didn’t and still don’t want any contact. I was sick at home last Friday and it occurred to me to unblock him and check his employment status. He went from being a rep for an insurance company at a local hospital to being self employed. I investigated further and the light bulb went off. He didn’t want to bang me; he wanted to sell me insurance. You can laugh. God knows I did. Then I was pissed. It is one thing to want sex. It is a whole different ball game when you try to romance me out of money.

So, I unravel this mystery and I call Capri. I wanted sympathy because I am sick and also so we could laugh. I tell her the story.

Capri: You know Mar, I admire your insulated ego. I also find it insane. Not in a good way sometimes.

Capri gives and Capri taketh away.

Me: What do you mean my insulated ego?

Capri:  The fact that you went to the sex thing right away because you think you are still young and hot. You are good for our age but come on.

Me: I have always thought I have body morph disorder backwards. I think I am the sexiest person in any crowd I am in. Not for nothing, speak for yourself. I am friggin hot. I rock the zip front sweat jacket and big girl pants. I also think that when I enter a room that everyone is staring at me. I am that good looking.

Capri: You have good hair. I’ll give you that but seriously, no one is looking at you.

Then I went into a rant that how dare he want to sell me something. What an asshole this guy is. I have worked as an independent contractor for 15 years. I am always (and I mean always) ready to help out anyone who has questions about working for yourself. If he had said to me he had some questions or he was selling something and wanted to talk about it, I would have been all over it. I like helping people. If he were honest, fuck, I might have changed insurance. Oh no, he had to start a conversation by pissing me off about my love for South Troy. Then, he had to throw in the “I miss you” bullshit, treating me not only like I am desperate and stupid but like HE was the one that was unforgettable. We all know I am the unforgettable one. I dumped him! I am the one that got away, not him.  Let me tell you something else, none of the men I have been with can hold a candle to 3b. Not only is he sex on a stick, but he is kind and lets me be myself at all times. He also has a fetish for housecoats but that is another story.

I probably sound like I am on the insane side of my ego but believing that keeps me going. Not accepting my own mortality or even my loss of looks (which I don’t believe will ever happen) keeps me young and delusional. It is the fun part of my head and it isn’t trying to sell me insurance.