What To Do About An "Ex" That Won't Let Go?

Dear Tazi:

My husband “Roger” and I have been happily married for two wonderful years. We met when I answered his online personal ad. Although I was not the only woman he had given his email address and phone number to, I was the only woman he chose to meet in real life. At the time, I was one of several women with whom he was conversing, but once we met he let them all know he had met a woman with who he wanted to pursue a relationship (me).

Every now and then, Roger will get a phone call, text, or email from one of the women who had answered his long ago personal ad, asking how he is doing and if he would like to get together for a drink. To his credit Roger politely informs these women that he is happily married and, having no past relationship with them, asks to be removed from their “little black book”. Most women congratulate him on our marriage, laugh at his suggestion that they have an entire book of potential dates, and never contact him again. The one exception to this is “Mary”.

Mary first contacted Roger a little over a year ago, leaving a message on our answering machine and suggesting that they meet for coffee and to “catch up” on each other’s lives. Roger sent her a short email to let her know he was married to me and that his marital status was the only update that was needed. Mary took this email as an invitation to start a conversation with Roger, asking all sorts of personal questions and asking what it was about me that he found more attractive. Tazi, Roger had never even met her, nor did he have any interest in meeting her after talking to her on the phone. He remembered her as being “pushy” and “demanding” in her search for a man. Roger was too kind to tell her this, and simply ended the conversation by telling her that I was his soul-mate; that when he met me, he just “knew”.

Since that email, Mary has taken to sending him forward after forward; emails like “Sending a prayer your way!” or “Sending this to a friend I am thinking of today…” Each of these emails is innocuous in their own right, but when combined paint a picture of someone who refuses to let go of a past that never was. Roger has deleted each one of them without responding, after opening them to make sure that they did not contain anything threatening or stalker-ish. It had reached the point where Roger was receiving ten or more of these forwards a day, so he added Mary’s address to his SPAM block. Her emails now go directly into the trash. You would think this would take care of the problem, but it has not. Apparently, Mary is able to check if the emails she sends have been opened/read. Now that her emails are not being opened, she has taken to contacting my husband via other methods.

Roger has received multiple Facebook friend requests from Mary, and has finally blocked her from contacting him. She repeatedly texts him, asking why they can’t rekindle the friendship they once had. Tazi, there is no “friendship” to rekindle! Unfortunately, Roger’s mobile phone service does not allow him to block numbers, so the best he can do is ignore her – which obviously does not work. Mary’s texts are sent at the most inopportune times – the middle of the night, while we are sleeping; early morning, when we are getting ready for work; or on weekends, when Roger and I are spending time together or socializing with people who actually are friends.

We have looked into getting a restraining order against Mary, but because Roger was never romantically involved with her and she has never threatened violence against either of us we would have to pay for the legal filing (which is not cheap) and there is no guarantee we would be granted an order of restraint, since Mary is only being a nuisance from a distance. I would like to contact Mary myself and ask why she feels the need to disrespect my position as Roger’s wife, but I don’t want to come off as a jealous shrew. I do not feel the slightest bit insecure in my marriage, and am friends with a few of Roger’s actual past girlfriends, but I am getting rather annoyed at the lengths this woman is going to get my husband’s attention. Roger has suggested that we just ignore her and hopefully she will go away on her own. What do you advise, Tazi?

Signed,
Fed Up

Dear Fed Up:

I receive many letters about exes that can’t let go, but your situation is unusual, considering that your husband has never even met or dated the woman who will not let go. I realize it would be a personal inconvenience to have to change your phone number, so I will not suggest that, but I will suggest that your husband turn off his mobile phone when he does not wish to be bothered by it. Since Mary only seems to text at times when the two of you are (assumed to be) together, anyone who needs to contact Roger would be able to reach him by calling your mobile phone. You could even add this suggestion to Roger’s voicemail, telling the caller to “call my wife if you need to reach me”. There is no need to leave your phone number; just be certain that people Roger wants to hear from have your phone number. Should Mary resort to calling your husband’s mobile phone (as opposed to just texting it) she will get the literal message that Roger is unavailable.

As tempting as it may be to contact Mary yourself and tell her off, this would only put you in a bad light and add fuel to Mary’s fire. By acting like a jealous shrew you will be giving Mary the impression that you are one, as well as reason to think that your marriage is unstable. As difficult as it might be, I suggest that you follow through with Roger’s suggestion: ignore Mary, and hopefully she will move on to a more receptive target. Unless Mary suffers from erotomania, she will eventually get tired of being ignored and move on to someone who will be receptive to her overtures.

Snuggles,
Tazi


Ask Tazi! is ghostwritten by a human with a Bachelors of Arts in Communications. Tazi-Kat is not really a talking feline.

Tazi's Corner #61 - Dates From Hell (Part I)

Dear Readers:

Having recently been discarded by my lady friend for her latest flavor of the month (sigh…I am a bit bitter about it) I unexpectedly find myself on the dating scene. While perusing the lady cats on Twitter I saw a gorgeous female that I would have loved to pursue if not for the distance between us. Since I hate to travel any place further than my Mommie’s voice will carry, I immediately realized that a relationship between me and this lovely Queen could never be… [Big moping sigh]. I found myself wondering if this is what you humans go through in your search for love from someone other than your loyal pet (as if ANYONE could love you more than us!) and put on the call on Twitter for bad date stories and tales of unworkable love. My mailbag was filled with your tales of humor about your romantic woes that I am sure were not humorous at the time. I actually received enough material to write several columns, so I chose my favorite ten tales to share. I will present the first five this week, with my remaining five faves to follow sometime next month.

Our first tale of woe (or should I say “whoa!”) comes from a woman who discovered that her blind date had a completely different definition of “horseback riding” than the rest of us!

Dear Tazi:

You asked for “bad date” stories and have I got one for you! I placed a personal ad on [a popular dating site] and centered my ad around the theme of horses and riding, since I rode competitively as a teenager and still enjoy riding for fun and exercise. I mentioned that I stable my own horse and was looking for someone with the same interests.

I got several responses, most from men who don’t ride or have not ridden in years, judging by their physical condition or ability on the back of a mare. One guy seemed great on paper, and after emailing back and forth about how much we both liked horses I agreed to meet him. He really seemed to know his stuff, and sounded like an active rider. It turns out he was part of some sexual underground movement where men wear harnesses and bits and women are their “grooms”. He showed up at the stable naked under a trenchcoat, except for some kind of leather, S&M -looking outfit and a harness and bit worn over his head. 

Did he look something like this?

He looked at me, confused by the look of shock and horror on my face, and asked me why I didn’t have my crop with me! He told me he was a “mustang” in need of breaking and pretended to rear up and even whinnied! I stammered that there must be some confusion and high-tailed it out of there!

While I am not here to judge, dear readers, let this be a lesson to you all in clear communication! Our next “date from Hell” story is from a man who learned – the hard way – the difference between being a “non-smoker” and “tobacco free”.

Dear Tazi:

After my divorce last year I decided to ask my friends to set me up with any desirable women they knew and thought I would like. My one stipulation was that she be a non-smoker, because I have asthma and cigarette smoke can set it off so bad I end up in the emergency room.

A friend of a friend, who I know through my weekly poker game but not beyond that, told me he knew a woman who was looking for a good man and that he’d see if she was interested in meeting me. He showed me her picture from her Facebook page, and she looked terrific! Long legs that go on forever, stylishly cut chestnut hair that flowed from a cowgirl hat, and a sweet smile; the fact that she didn’t show her teeth in any of her pictures should have been my first hint that something was wrong with this picture!

“Sandy” and I had our first date at a Saturday night Rock ‘n’ Bowl, which I figured would be a nice way to spend the evening – it wasn’t too intimate, bowling was fun, and we could have a few beers while enjoying the music. It turned out that Sandy didn’t like beer all that much, but she loooooved dip! [Ed. Note: “Dip” is chewing tobacco]. It was only after I had ordered us a pitcher of beer that I realized that Sandy hadn’t wanted a beer but the cup I was planning on pouring it in; the pitcher was halfway gone when I saw that I was the only one drinking and that Sandy’s beer cup was still full while a second, empty cup was slowly filling – with a brew that was much darker than the draft I had ordered for us. Sandy caught me staring just as she spit into her cup, and asked if I minded “a girl who dug dip”. It was then that I caught sight of her teeth – a mouthful of tobacco stained enamel and gums. I didn’t even want to think about her breath, and started dreading the thought of her asking me for a kiss goodnight. I just smiled nonchalantly and asked if this could be our last game, that the loud music was giving me a headache and I was feeling a little nauseous (it was true; the sight of her teeth made me want to throw up).

And people say cats have bad breath! Harrumph! Here’s a date from Hell that would leave a bad taste in anybody’s mouth!

Dear Tazi:

My date from Hell was not a first date but actually a last date. I had been with “Marcia” for a few months, and the chemistry wasn’t there – for me, at least; had I known how Marcia felt about me I would have broken up with her before I allowed things to go too far. Yes, I was sleeping with her, but I didn’t realize it meant so much to Marcia; it certainly didn’t to me (at the time. I am older and wiser now, so no paw slaps of disgust, please. My wife already gave me one when I told her this story).

Sex was the deal-breaker for me. Marcia was awful in bed, but I didn’t want to break up with her after sleeping with her only once – I didn’t want to be “that guy” that women trashed on the ladies’ room walls. I did mention to a buddy of mine, who was dating an acquaintance of Marcia that I was going to break up with her; that I didn’t feel a spark with her and the sex was bad. I am guessing that is how word got back to Marcia.

I was biding my time, avoiding Marcia so a break-up would not be too painful for her, and hoping that we could just casually drift apart when Marcia called me and insisted that I come over her house so she could make me dinner. She said she had a special evening planned, and she was making a special dish just for me. Being a bachelor who could not cook (still can’t) I am a sucker for a home-cooked meal, so I made the date, figuring I could always break up with Marcia the following week.

Dinner was fabulous – Marcia made a complicated veal dish that she had pulled from a gourmet cookbook. The side dishes looked like something that you would see on a cooking show, and the bread was homemade. I was starting to have second thoughts about breaking up with Marcia, when she served the dessert.

Marcia had baked a beautiful cake, complete with butter-cream frosting and what appeared to be a thick layer of lemon pie filling between the cake layers. Marcia told me that it was “lemon flavored jelly” and she wasn’t lying, she just wasn’t being entirely truthful. It turns out that the lemon jelly she used to fill the cake was made with petroleum jelly, dyed yellow and flavored with lemon Jell-O mix. As I choked on it and tried to get the sticky stuff out of my mouth Marcia freaked out on me, calling me every name imaginable as she grabbed me by the shirt collar and threw me out the door, yelling after me about how evil I was for telling her friends that she was bad in bed. Like I said, it was the last date we had. I never did call her to apologize (this admission just earned me another “paw slap” from the woman the woman I married). If Marcia is reading this, I hope she knows that she got the last laugh and that it was on me.

Am I an evil kitty for laughing at your misfortune? I understand that bad sex can be a deal-breaker, but under the circumstances I think you got what you deserved! Speaking of deal-breakers, this next story is full of them.

Dear Tazi:

My friends always tell me that I am too picky when it comes to guys and that I need to lighten up a bit. I don’t like the idea of wasting my time with someone who I know will not be a good fit for my life, so I have always kept high standards for myself: non-smoker, light drinker; never married, no kids; college educated or at the very least professionally employed. When my college roommate told me she had the “perfect guy” for me I was a little leery, but agreed to meet him because Valentine’s Day was coming up and I didn’t want to spend the day alone – again.

My first date with “Chad” was a coffee date at a coffee lounge near campus – comfortable couches, low lighting, and folk music playing in the background. I was in between classes and only had an hour to spare, which made for the perfect “out” if things did not go well. My first impressions of Chad had me silently thanking my roommate for setting us up, and I was reluctant to leave after the hour was up; Chad was equally interested, so we agreed to meet for dinner that weekend.

That Saturday, I spent the day getting ready for my big date with Chad – I got a manicure and a pedicure, bought a new dress, had my hair professionally styled, and made certain that I looked perfect; when Chad told me how great I looked, I thought that all my efforts had been worth it. Boy was I wrong!

Over dinner, Chad opened the conversation by saying, “Now that we have gotten to know each other I don’t feel uncomfortable asking you a few personal questions. Shall we have a drink? I don’t want to waste my money on dinner if you don’t measure up to what I am looking for in a woman.” I was floored! I had just spent a few hundred dollars and an entire afternoon getting ready for our date and he didn’t want to plunk down for dinner unless I met his qualifications? Not knowing what else to say, I agreed.

Chad started asking me several deeply personal questions – from the intimate to the downright embarrassing, like if I wanted children, and if so how many, to how many men I have slept with and if I have (or ever have had) a sexually transmitted disease. When I told him I wasn’t comfortable answering these types of questions on a second date Chad told me he “needed to know” because he didn’t want to sleep with me if it would result in an STD or an unwanted child. I frostily told Chad that it was too soon for him to even be thinking such things about me when he interrupted me and told me that we may as well end our evening here; that he wasn’t going to spend “upwards of $50 on dinner if sex wasn’t on the table”. He then threw a $5.00 bill on the bar and wished me a good night and good luck finding “the one”. The $5.00 didn’t even cover the cost of our bar tab, and since he had driven us to the restaurant I had to call a cab to get home!

I wish I could say my night ended there, but the story continues. After I got back to my apartment my roommate told me that Chad had called and given her an earful about my “high standards” and how I wouldn’t even give him a chance, about how I shut him down every time he tried to start a conversation with me. Just as she started to lecture me I walked to my room and shut the door. I’d had enough for one evening!

I guess there are worse things than spending Valentine’s Day alone, huh? Here is one woman who may have preferred to do just that – if things hadn’t had a happy ending after all!

Dear Tazi:

My date from Hell happened one Valentine’s Day, before I met my husband and was desperately single. I used to hang out at the bar of a local restaurant, and it was there that I’d met a guy who seemed a little off around women, but I figured he was just shy. I was amazed at his fine taste in clothes, is perfectly manicured fingernails, his knowledge of fine wine, and just about everything else you would see on a TV show like Queer Eye for the Straight Guy, which was popular at the time.

“Harold” asked me out the weekend before Valentine’s Day, apologizing for the late invite but explaining that he had been shy about asking me out. I thought that was cute, so I said yes. It was Valentine’s night, and Harold took me to a very expensive, very exclusive restaurant. I assumed that he must have made the reservation months in advance and was flattered by the advance planning he did in hopes that he could overcome his shyness and that I would say yes. I guess I was so desperate I would have believed anything.

Dinner was sensational, and our waiter was very handsome and attentive but the maître d’ kept giving us dirty looks, like we were something the cat had dragged in (sorry Tazi. I am sure you only drag in the finest of dead creatures!). The evening was pleasant but uneventful until our waiter presented us with a dessert menu. At that moment, the maître d’ stormed over to our table and said, “Go ahead and stuff your face with it, you fat cow!”

I was horrified and was about to say something when Harold burst into tears and yelled back at the maître d’, “You know I am an emotional eater! If you weren’t so verbally abusive I wouldn’t be so fat!” It was then that I realized that Harold was gay, and that the maître d’ had been, until recently, his boyfriend, which explained why he was able to get such a great table; whoever made the reservation knew he had connections.

As the fracas continued, I wanted to melt into the floor. Harold’s boyfriend had broken up with him because Harold was still closeted from his family; his boyfriend had accused him of being ashamed of being gay and secretly liking women; I was Harold’s “revenge date”. Seeing how I was caught in the middle, the waiter gracefully offered me his arm and escorted me from the table, joking that he would be applying for the “newly opened maître d’ position”. Lucky for me, my story has a happy ending!

Before walking me out, my waiter offered me a free piece of strawberry shortcake to make up for my trouble – all he needed was my contact information, to give to the General Manager. As it turned out that waiter paid for the dessert out of his tips and kept my phone number for himself – and am I ever glad that he did! We have been happily married for seven years now!

P.S. My husband never did get the maître d’ job, but he never expected to, either; the maître d’ was the restaurant owner’s nephew!

What a great love story! I do hope that Harold and “the maître d’ ” were able to work out their differences, but I am glad that their differences worked out for you!

Snuggles to all who shared, and you my dear readers,

Tazi

P.S. Got a "Date From Hell" to share? Contact me via the form on this site or send me a tweet @TaziKat!

Ask Tazi! is ghostwritten by a human with Bachelors degrees in Communications and in Gender and Women's Studies. Tazi-Kat is not really a talking feline.

Woman Breaks It Off With Man Of Too Many "Deal-Breakers"

Dear Tazi:

Back in November, I wrote to you about a man I was seeing (aka "Irwin") who had a long list of what he called "deal-breakers" in a relationship. You suggested that I "walk away" from Irwin ASAP without making excuses to stay because I did not want to be alone during the upcoming holiday season. You asked me to write back and let you know how things turned out, so I am writing to share my story.

I wasn't too thrilled with your advice, but kept it in mind as I gave Irwin a little more time and, as it would turn out, one more date. It was the week before Thanksgiving, and Irwin still had not mentioned what his plans were for Thanksgiving, so I finally decided to ask him to join my family and me for dinner. Irwin was delighted to accept; so I thought this meant he might actually be getting serious about me. I could not have been more wrong!

Thanksgiving was being held at my Aunt's house, and since she lives halfway between my place and Irwin's, I suggested that we meet there and gave Irwin explicit directions; complete with landmarks so he would not get lost. Dinner was to be served at 1:00 PM; so when Irwin did not show by 1:30 I got worried and tried to call him, to no avail. To make a long story short, Irwin did not show up until 4:00 PM, upset that we did not hold dinner for him! His explanation for being so late was that he does not like to eat a big holiday meal until halfway between lunch and dinner, so as not to be hungry again just before going to bed.

Not only did Irwin not offer an apology for his tardiness; but he gave my aunt an attitude about "scheduling dinner at a time that was not convenient for an honored guest". I do not know where Irwin got off thinking he was an "honored guest", but I was completely humiliated by his ungrateful behavior. To make matters worse, Irwin told me that the cool reception he received from my family was "a possible deal-breaker" and that I might want to suggest that they apologize to him for their rudeness if our relationship was to continue. Needless to say, I broke up with him on the spot.

I spent the holiday season single, much to the relief of my family, and realized that I would rather be alone than settle for someone who treats me like a lesser person. Valentine's Day is approaching, and although I am a bit disappointed to be spending it single; I realize that there are worse fates to suffer - for example, I could still be dating Irwin!

Signed,
Footloose and Fancy Free

Dear Footloose and Fancy Free:

Thank you for writing to follow up with me and my other readers! I am sorry to hear that you had such an embarrassing experience over Thanksgiving; but you must remember that such events are the stuff that family legends are made of; and that someday, you will look back and laugh over it.

I wish you all the best in your hunt for Mr. Right, and am glad to know that you are refusing to settle for Mr. Right Now.

Snuggles,
Tazi



Ask Tazi! is ghostwritten by a human with a Bachelors of Arts in Communications. Tazi-Kat is not really a talking feline.