It's Kind of a Long Story... about MY SISTER EXES (Part VIII)

We have a bash. Literally.

Hey Drama Goblins,

The Sister Ex Saga ending.

If you’d like to catch up, all of the posts are gathered here in chronological order.

I’m glad there is an ending. Every time I press “publish” the events and feelings of that relationship move further into the background. It’s been immeasurably helpful to get the story up and out.

It’s been more helpful than therapy. Than medication. And even though so many of my amazing friends were available to talk with me through so many ups and downs throughout my relationship, it’s been more helpful than talking. Writing publicly has been what helped me to truly heal.

I recently had an extraordinary opportunity to see a screening of the movie Still about Michael J. Fox that included a Q&A with the actor. I was able to tell him how much a line he said in the film landed for me:

“You are only as sick as your secrets”

Keeping secrets was making me sick.

I have recovered. I’ve reclaimed the power I didn’t even know had been taken from me.

And, as I hope has come across in this series, my goal wasn’t only to heal myself, it was to tell the story of the women who looked out for me and supported me. To encourage others to take it seriously if a Sister Ex reaches out to them.

This may be the end of the posts, but there are still some Sister Ex-y things happening.

I discussed Sister Exes with Turi Ryder on WCPT Radio last week.

I’m glad the interview ended with a call to men to support each other the way women do. Look around fellas, the ladies in your life are leading by example.

I recorded an episode of Dear Nina: Conversations on Friendship that will come out next week.

There’s another very exciting thing coming up that is too big to spill. I don’t want to jinx it.

And, I’m also looking forward to writing about other things. The Meringue Story. The Geloy Story. The Dr. Home Goods Story. Stories that haven’t happened yet.

And I’ve set a few goals for this Substack:

• Reach 550 subscribers by my 55th birthday (March 12)

• Enable paid subscriptions on my birthday (weekly posts will always be free)

• Donate 10% of all subscription revenue to the National Hotline for Domestic Violence in honor of my Sister Exes who are survivors of Cris’ abuse.

I’m so grateful to you for helping me reach these goals, and as always, I’m so glad you’re here,

-Lara

Take Your Knives and Go

Short story: 

Three of us Sister Exes gathered at my annual Caftans & Casserole party on Cris’ wedding day in a show of silliness and sisterhood.

Long story:

I hosted my first Caftans & Casseroles party in the summer of 2016. I got the idea from Christina Hendricks, the actress who played Joan Holloway on Mad Men, who hosts one for her girlfriends every year.

It was an idea so ridiculous I had to do it.

I was about 6 months into my life as a widow. I was starting to feel the many impacts of being single. I could just throw a Caftans & Casseroles party without asking or checking in with anybody. I could just do it. As with all freedoms, that was both liberating and terrifying.

It was also the year that I really learned what connection and community meant. I was so grateful for so many people - mostly women, mostly girlfriends - who had shown up for me. It made me want to be a better friend. It made me want to build and sustain my relationships and friendships with intention.

And, I got to buy a new outfit! I had never owned a caftan before. I ordered one from Etsy. It was $15 including shipping from India. I shudder to think under what conditions it was manufactured.

I have since come to love the thing. I toss it on as soon as I get home all summer long. I joke it’s like wearing nothing and a princess dress at the same time.

That first party was a huge success, and as hilarious as I’d hoped. I could not stop laughing as I greeted each guest, “You look beautiful! What kind of cheese is in your casserole?”

I’ve hosted C&Cs consistently since then, with the exception of 2020 (COVID) and 2021 (I was living at the Embassy Suites during my tree exile)

So the first C&C in my house after being displaced for two years would have been enough of a momentous occasion, but to do it on Cris’ wedding day, with two of my Sister Exes in attendance? I could barely wrap my head around the momentous weirdness of it.

In the weeks before September 9th, Crystal, who was still connected to Cris on Facebook, let us know he went to Vegas with her Ex (his BFF) for his bachelor party. I can only imagine the drunken obnoxiousness of that weekend. And how pathetic it was for a 55-year-old man to be partying like a frat boy in Las Vegas.

Yes, there was a time I thought he and I might get married. And if he had gone on a bender in Vegas before our wedding I would have been mortified.

In a creepy bit of Internet strangeness, Instagram suggested him as a friend I might know. Huh? When we met, he had an Instagram account with just a few photos of his food. He’d said that a friend of his had helped him set it up and he didn’t know anything about it. The last photo he posted was of him in his kitchen in his chef uniform but oddly cropped so just his legs and feet showed. He hadn’t touched the account the whole time we were together.

Now, he had a personal Instagram account with photos of his wedding week festivities, which included more drunken nonsense. Tubing on the Russian River, beer in hand. A poker game with his buddies, all of whom were old friends he barely saw, two of whom had told Susan that he was an asshole and they wouldn't blame her for leaving him. They were the only people he could scare up.

There was only one photo of B, and he wrote nothing about her.

Feeling devilish, I commented on one. Something like, “I hope you get all of the happiness you deserve.” I have no idea if he saw it or what he made of it. I blocked him soon after.

---

I had a great time getting ready for the C&C party. I got the idea to make a wall display of my vintage cookbook collection. I made a faux flower arrangement in a casserole dish and turned the lid upside down to use as a nut dish.

I was still on my FMLA leave from work and had plenty of time to cook, clean, and decorate. Friends were coming from as far away as San Diego. Monika was coming from LA.

And about 40 miles away, Cris was getting married.

I know I’ve written and talked about this whole sitch and saga a lot, but I still don’t have adequate words for the feelings. I may have to ask a German friend if there’s one of those long, hyphenated words that adequately describes it. It was a lot.

I never thought he wouldn’t be in my life. I knew we weren’t going to be together as a couple, but I thought I’d had a friend for life.

I thought back on our relationship and how much fun we had. How he made me feel like the prettiest girl in the room. How I thought he was my biggest fan. How much we made each other laugh. He wasn’t the kind of narcissist who only wanted his partner to laugh at his stories and jokes. He laughed at mine. He thought I was hilarious and witty. And in his words, “Beautiful and brainy.”

I thought about the thoughtful gifts he’d given me. Long drives. So many dinners he made us that we ate while watching old movies. The cozy Sunday mornings doing the crossword puzzle.

And, I remembered something he said that was chilling me. He often said, “You deserve better.” Had he found someone he thought didn't deserve better?

Or had that just been another line?

I thought of all of the little things that should have given me more pause than they did. All of the clues and tells. The casual misogyny and racism. The way I’d sometimes feel when I heard him tell a story about his ex-wife K. Like there was something that wasn’t quite adding up.

---

Monika was one of the first to arrive at the party. In the photos I have seen of her, she looks super chic. She works as a stylist at Nordstrom and has a great fashion sense. Tonight? She looked fabulously ridiculous. Bold, floral caftan and kooky pearl glasses.

I gave her a big hug, and said, “I can’t believe you’re here.”

Like meeting Susan, meeting Monika was sort of like meeting a celebrity. When I say Cris talked about his exes a lot, I mean a lot. Names I heard often for five years. They were like myths and legends.

And how two of them were in my house. In caftans.

My friend Pat, who is the most cleverly thoughtful person on the planet, brought a poop emoji pinata with a chef’s hat and a sign that read, “Pack Your Knives and Go!”

When everyone got there, I gathered them in the living room to greet them and said:

This year, Caftans & Casseroles is especially meaningful because I am back in my house, and this date is meaningful because it’s the date my lying, cheating ex boyfriend is getting married to his latest victim, and I wanted to be surrounded by sisterhood and questionable carbs.

And, there are three of his exes here today - me, Susan and Monika. We’ve connected the way veterans of a war connect, and I am so grateful for their generosity in sharing their stories, and in being up for shenannigans. There are more of us who are not here who are connected who have similar stories.

Susan and Monika, I have gifts for you, these pillows have Wonder Woman on the front, because we didn’t dodge a bullet, we deflected it with our Wonder Woman bracelets, and Charlie’s Angels on the back, because we’re three very good and gorgeous detectives.

After dinner and before dessert, we’re gonna bash the Shitty Chef pinata that Pat brought. I invite anyone who has been lied to, cheated on, misled or messed with to have a swing.

I’ve said many times that the story of my 50s is the story of my friendships with women. I am so grateful for my friendships with each of you, and the friendships among you, and for those who have traveled so far to be here. That is some serious sisterhood.

L’Chaim!"

This is when the party turned into a bash.

It was cathartic to give that thing a whack. We all took turns, and it was Susan who broke it open. See’s lollipops came flying out and I laughed, “She lived with him. She deserves the win.”

The rest of the evening was swirl of color and laughs and fun and I was so truly happy. I kept hugging Monika and Susan and saying, “I can’t believe we pulled it off.”

And what I said in my welcoming greeting was never more true. I was surrounded by so many awesome and supportive friends.

And, there were also one or two plus ones. Friends of friends who already knew they were going to a Caftans & Casseroles party, as if that wasn’t weird enough. They had no idea there was also going to be Charlie’s Angeles and a poop pinata. I can only imagine the conversations at work on Monday, “I went to the strangest party this weekend…”

---

During the party, I excused myself for a minute and sent Cris the photo of Monika, Susan, and me. I did it with a “burner” texting app. I didn’t include any messages. Just the photo. And, I deleted the app right after I sent it. I didn’t want to hear from him. I didn’t want to enter into a dialogue. I still don’t. He won’t get any supply from me.

I wanted him to know we knew. I wanted him to know he didn’t get away with it. I wanted him to know he’s not as smart as he thinks he is.

I wanted to write us into his narrative. I wanted his memories of his wedding to always include getting that photo of three of his many Exes gathered together. And in caftans of all things. I only hope he didn’t think we wore them and got together specifically to get to him. That would feed his delusion and insatiable need for attention.

But it was a chance I was willing to take.

Because I wanted him to know that with just a few clicks his new wife could know everything we knew. I have a letter I’ve written to B. It has more details than I have written about here, and some things that are just between her and me. Out of respect for her wishes, I haven’t sent or shared it. I could change my mind.

I wanted him to feel a fraction as unsafe as he had made K and Tracy feel.

I’ll never know if I was successful. I’ll never know how he reacted or what he thought. Because even if he told me, I wouldn’t believe him.

---

After the rest of the guests left, I curled up on the couch with the two girlfriends who were staying with me for some chit-chat. After a few minutes, I saw a message from Crystal, “They did it!” with wedding photos he had posted to Facebook.

Ooof. I had said I didn’t want to see photos from the wedding, but Crystal had forgotten, and the Drama Goblin in her couldn’t resist sharing them. I don’t blame her. I might have done the same.

The post-party high I’d been riding came crashing down. It was… again words fail me, but it was a lot to see him at the altar in a tux on a beautiful day. There’s something about boutonnieres that always gets me. That juxtaposition of a man never looking more masculine in a formal suit combined with the beauty and delicacy of a flower. His got to me.

B looked beautiful. Not a trace of North Face. Her dress was elegant and chic and fit her trim figure like a glove. Her red hair was flowing and she was glowing. She smiled a big smile. I sincerely hope she was and is happy.

I hope that whatever combination of age, maturity, and fear, combined with her good influence on him, has made Cris a good husband. I hope he’s gotten in control of his drinking. And lying. And cheating. I hope he can step up and be the man she needs him to be.

And if he doesn’t, her sister Exes are here for her.

Know someone who would get something out of that story? Please share.

Lara sez…

Listen!

80s deep cut of the week! My pal April has put together a playlist of songs about cheating, Watch Out for the Cheater. As she says, “Infidelity inspires some bangers.” It includes this banger from Jilted John. Next time someone makes you mad scream, “Gordon is a moron!” It’s guaranteed to make you feel better. (and hey, 1978 is close enough)

Read!

Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow is as good as everyone says it is, and it gave me an appreciation for the art of video games. They are not to be dismissed as kid stuff.

Follow!

Photographer Geloy Concepcion has been running a series on his Instagram for several years called, “Things you wanted to say but never did.” He illustrates submissions from his followers that are so raw. So real. So heartbreaking in their honesty.

They are the opposite of inspirational memes, and so much more compelling and connecting.

I had the opportunity to meet and work with Geloy, and will be writing about that experience in a future post.

Watch!

Mary Tyler Moore reruns are my comfort viewing. I did a complete series re-watch and loved every minute.

Eat!

I’m not a vegetarian. I don’t like sausage. I love Morningstar Farms vegetarian sausage. I have one every day for breakfast in what my husband John called a Happy Sami: the sausage on an English muffin with cream cheese, tomato, onion, and fresh basil leaves.

ProTip: They’re sold in the freezer case, but you can keep ‘em in the fridge. Put them in the toaster oven with the English Muffins and they’ll be ready at the same time.

Buy!

You two could own a pillow like the one I gave Monika and Susan! Artist Jason Mecier is known for his pop-culture collages, often made from the subject’s own junk!

Some of his most popular images are available on pillows, and he’ll do a custom front-and-back for you!

Fun Fact: Jason and I worked together at Double Rainbow on Haight Street in the late 80s.

Before I let you go…

I still have a few Drama Goblin notebooks to give away!

This time there are two ways to win!

1. Comment below or reply to the email with a thought, suggestion, or words of encouragement.

2. Share this post with someone you think would like it. Either hit the green button or forward the email and “cc” me: lara@larastarr.com