Tag Archives: marriage

Good Luck, Goodbye.

Greetings faithful readers,

May 15, 2013 will be the exact three year anniversary of Mitch Being Honest. I have been flirting with the idea for about a year now and I have finally decided to retire Mitch Being Honest. Before you shave your heads and take vows of celibacy in protest to my shocking retirement news that I’m sure will shake the foundations of your very existence, let me lay out for you the reasons behind my decision.


After three years of writing from the “Mitch” persona premise, I’m just downright bored with it. There’s nothing new I can do with this premise and I’ve lost a bit of that fire in the belly I had for keeping the Mitch Blog train a rollin’. It used to be fulfilling and therapeutic to fire out a blog that made me laugh, now it feels like a chore to come out with something for my readers. And the point of the blog was to always make myself laugh first and foremost, but now I feel guilty that my output is not regular. I’ve gotten away from writing to make myself laugh first, others second.

“The You Got Civilized Dilemma.”Any of my regular readers knows that Mitch is a die hard fan of Rocky film franchise. They are more than films to me, they are a philosophical way of life. In Rocky 3, Mickey at one point says to Rocky “The worst thing that can happen to you, that can happen to any fighter, you got civilized.”


The blog was a therapeutic way for me to deal with the turmoil that was going in my life by finding the humour in the absurdity of it all. I wrote about my unstable marriage, my marriage failing, my divorce, single parenting, learning to be single, and learning to date and much more. All of those things provided me a wealth of material to draw upon and find humour in. This past year I’ve made a real concerted effort to lead a quiet, mellow existence. Definitely, an antithesis reaction to spending spending sixteen years of my life in a volatile, unhealthy emotionally charged relationship. By creating my new quiet, mellow, stable life, I killed off much of what I used the blog for and what I used to say with it. In a sense, I got civilized.

Originally, the blog was a business school project that I just kept going for myself. To date the blog has 106 Facebook followers, and 99 WordPress followers. I’ve made some friends through the blog, chatted with other bloggers and even landed a paying social media gig from blogging. Not too shabby seeing as the only real effort I put in was to make myself laugh.

I will be back to blogging someday, with a new premise and a new format but for now I need a long break.

Good luck, goodbye- Mitch.

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I’d Like To Thank The Academy…

I’ve been called a lot of things in my day, “asshole” being usually the most prominent, often employed as a verb, noun, pronoun, adjective, adverb, interjection, conjunction and prepositions and sometimes combinations of the preceding. “You assholing asshole of an asshole’s asshole you’re an asshole!”

This however, is a first. I’ve never been called “inspiring” before. I have to say I was a bit taken aback to be nominated for “The Very Inspiring Blogger Award” by How To Date In Las Vegas. Love your city by the way, been there five times.  My failed marriage started there or more accurately the downpayment on my impending divorce nine years later started at the wedding chapel in Bally’s. Anyways, enough of my masturbatory faux “aww shucks” bashfulness, let’s get to the requirements to accept my accolades.


The rules of the award:

  1. Display the award logo on your blog.

  2. Link back to the person who nominated you.

  3. State 7 things about yourself.

  4. Nominate 15 bloggers for this award.

  5. Notify those bloggers of the nomination by linking to one of their specific posts so that they get notified by ping back.

7 Things About Mitch That Will Both Amuse and Terrify You.

-Due to a family New Year’s Eve prank during childhood that went terribly awry I have an irrational fear of lobsters.

-One of my obsessive compulsive quirks is that I cannot sit at circular tables. My OCD brain likes right angles. You can imagine the quandary sitting at a circular table would cause to my meal.

-I consider myself a cereal aficionado.

-I have a Spongebob wallet that I use as a dating litmus test. I wouldn’t want to date a woman who has an issue with me having a Spongebob wallet. It separates the wheat from the chaff so to speak.

-Mitch really likes referring to himself in the third person.

-I once had to have a “feelings meeting” at work, to make me more aware of other peoples emotions and to be more empathetic to their feelings. Seven years later still struggling with this one.

-I live my life by an arbitrary flexible hero code of rules, but make sure to have enough if, ands, or buts and loopholes to get out of said rule if it benefits me.

The Nominations

Ok next step is to nominate 15 bloggers for this award. 15? Holy shit! 15? Really? How am I supposed to find time to read 15 other blogs if I got my own blog to write? Can I just nominate 5 bloggers but make their nominations worth triple points? Like sex and drum solos, I believe in quality over quantity. I’m going to bend the rules a wee bit. I’m only nominating 5 Blogs but giving 3 three reasons why I like each blog, that’ll count for 15.

Decimawho– Reason 1. Mojave desert dry British wit. Reason 2. I envy her prolific writing output while still maintaing her poetic prose. Reason 3. I have learned so much about Lyme disease from her blog a topic I never would have learned about on my own.

Another Single Woman’s Blog. Reason 1. It’s nice to read about someone who’s out there in the dating trenches like me. 2. It’s nice to get a female perspective about life out there in the dating trenches. Reason 3. You know when they say that people who have gone through and survived traumatic events like plane crashes or natural disasters now share a bond? I feel the same way after reading about her dating mishaps and comparing them to my own.

Today I Watched A Movie. Reason 1. Clear, succinct, organized, well written movie reviews. Reason 2. Clear, succinct, organized, well written movie reviews. Reason 3. Clear, succinct, organized, well written movie reviews.

The Jiggly Bits. Reason 1. How can you not love the title of this blog? 2. Any blog that has a post called “The only Penis That Turns Me On” is totally worthy of my attention. 3. See reasons 1 and 2. 

Wonderbread is Dead. Reason 1. Nepotism. He’s my Nephew. 2. His love of wrasslin’ is equal to my own. 3. I’m super psyched that he’s going to school for film like his uncle did. 

Once again, it’s an honour just to be nominated. “Yo Adrian, I did it!” (cue man-tears)


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Venti Suck Latte (Originally Published July 26, 2011)

DISCLAIMER: I’ve been debating for a few weeks now if I was going to repost these “Mitch Classic” blogisodes from when my marriage ended. I went back and forth between “I don’t want to repost them and relive that experience” to “I should post them to show how far I’ve come since then.” I concluded that Mitch Being Honest is about being honest, and being true to myself and to not post them would be contradictory to my blog premise.

The last couple hours of the day before sleep are the worst. That time between putting Little Mitch down for the laundrynight and my own bedtime. The only time of the day when I am truly alone. I distract myself. I fold laundry, I love to smell the scent of my son on his clean T-shirts. I watch DVD’s of movies I’ve seen too many times. I read magazines about sports I don’t care about. I listen to Springsteen, no sad songs don’t need that association. I watch music videos on youtube, always the same songs never new ones. I text with friends, keeps my focus busy. I load the dishwasher, when it doesn’t really need to be loaded. I go over my budget, even though I already know its balanced. Anything to keep busy and keep that admission I don’t want to acknowledge at bay. 

It’s been four weeks since the split. I don’t want to admit it to myself but I know it’s there. I miss intimacy. 

I don’t mean sex. I mean intimacy. I miss being touched by a woman. Just to hug, to hold hands, someone to lean into me sitting on the couch, to have someone to hold onto in bed on Sunday morning.

You know what part I miss the most? Now that it’s just me and Little Mitch at our place it smells like a man house.  I’ve always loved the fragrance of a woman and now it’s not there. The scent of a woman can literally make my skin tingle, now I don’t know if and when I will ever get that feeling again. The perfumed floral fragrance of femininity. 

Right now, if someone offered me a choice between a physically satisfying purely sexual one night stand or an emotionally fulfilling intimate cuddle in bed, I have to be honest, I may choose the latter. 

I read a book that says the first 100 days since the split are the worst. I sure hope so because I am ticking off the100 days to get to that number. Not that I expect to get to day 100 and some magical switch will click and everything will be okay. I’m not delusional, I know this stage of my life. learning to be single, is a journey. But I keep telling myself if I can get to 100 days… I don’t know what will happen at day 100 I think Im just using that arbitrary number as a goal to keep my mind focused on the things I don’t want to focus on. It’s always easier to focus on external things than the internal hurting angry bitter sad things. I know it in my head and I know it in my heart but on a certain level I don’t want to acknowledge it; I will be divorced. Just the thought of the word makes my chest sink. 

At this point, you’re probably thinking that I’m depressed. Actually that couldn’t be further from the truth. In fact, I’m actually, in general happy about the state of things. I just feel desensitized. A venti suck latte with a crap biscotti and flavour shot of mildly angry about the situation.


Little Mitch is doing okay. His grandpa is looking after him for the summer when I am at work. He is happy but there are signs now that the life changes are affecting him too. He’s hitting a lot. Not hard, but hitting nonetheless, I think he’s mad about the life changes too, I don’t blame him, somedays I want to hit things too.

He’s back in my bed indefinitely. The five year old kid who doesn’t really like to cuddle in bed needs to fall asleep on my chest. He’s very concerned about when I am going to bed, he doesn’t want to be in bed alone, he asks me every night to go to bed with him. I wake up some mornings to go to work and he cries he wants me to stay in bed, and then I have to hand him off to his grandpa. Every day hes asks me if I’m going to work tomorrow, I say yes, and he asks me to take the day off. 

Tonight, as we lay in bed, after his bedtime stories, Little Mitch asked me again to tell him a story about when I was a kid. I told him the story of the first girl I ever asked out when I was in Grade 9. He listened intently as he often does to stories about my childhood. “Daddy, did you ask mommy out?” a few years later I did, I replied. “Daddy? Why don’t you ask her out again?” Sorry bud, that’s not going to happen, mommy and daddy were fighting too much. “Oh yeah daddy, we’re still a family though right?” That’s right I said we’re still a family. “Daddy? Are you going to ask any girls out soon?” I told him a version of the truth he could understand, “Not right now bud, maybe someday who knows? But right now, no.” 

The sad reality of my days is that the most authentic adult conversations I have are with my five year old son at bedtime. I think I need to start letting other people in. 



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I Have My Days (Originally Published July 10, 2011)

DISCLAIMER: I’ve been debating for a few weeks now if I was going to repost these “Mitch Classic” blogisodes from when my marriage ended. I went back and forth between “I don’t want to repost them and relive that experience” to “I should post them to show how far I’ve come since then.” I concluded that Mitch Being Honest is about being honest, and being true to myself and to not post them would be contradictory to my blog premise.

To say it’s been a hectic few weeks in Mitch’s life is an understatement of monumental proportions. Last weekend we moved Mrs. Mitch out and into her own place. Strange, what do I call her now on the blog? She’s keeping my last name for now, so technically she’s still Mrs. Mitch, but calling her that doesn’t feel right. Here’s a few possible blog pseudonyms for Mrs. Mitch:

-The Spouse Formerly Known as Mrs. Mitch, TSFKAMM? No, too long and doesn’t have good word Feng Shui.

-Little Mitch’s Mom. Not bad, not great, but doesn’t convey that we had a 16 year relationship.

-My Ex-Wife. Yuck. I really do not like this term at all. It has such a bad connotation, and really we’re still friends. I don’t want to be one of those divorced people who 8 years after the divorce are still bitterly angry and start every sentence with “Oh yeah, when I was with my Ex she…..” 

-Little Mitch’s Co-Parent. Technically, this is the most accurate term for her now. We will be sharing co-parenting of Little Mitch. However, this term feels rather clinical, lacks warmth, and is so politically correct it makes me want to vomit in my soy non dairy organic free trade chai latte. Okay, I admit I’ve never actually had a coffee like that, it was the most politically correct coffee I could think of. 

I got it. Take out the “Mrs.” and use “Ms.” That works. “Ms. Mitch.” I like it, simple, clean, no negative connotations, and not overly politically correct. Done. Next order of business.

The question I field most often from people about my upcoming divorce is “how are you doing?” complete with the empathetic 45 degree sideways head tilt. Admit it. Right now you’re thinking, “son of a bitch, he’s right. I totally do that when I’m asking a concerned question.” 


How I answer depends on my day. I have my good days, bad days, emotionally tired days, numb days, angry days, sad days, not feeling anything days, want to stress eat everything in the house days, enjoying my new found freedom days, keeping busy with little projects around the house days, stress smoking too much again days, missing physical intimacy days, wasting too much time on the internet because I just don’t have it in me to grieve days, avoiding thinking of the hurt by redecorating our old place to make it my place days, keeping busy hanging out with friends days, keeping my mind occupied watching movies I been meaning to watch for a while days, wanting to cry but I can’t days, not wanting to cry days but I can’t, should probably stop having so many Jim Beam nightcaps before bed days. 

Usually though, I just answer that “I’m surviving, I’m doing okay.” with a weak smirk. 

A year or so ago we got Little Mitch tested by a couple of child psychologists, turns out my kid who bends over naked, spreads his cheeks and makes his tan brown ass laugh heartily is “gifted.” Now, I know you’re thinking this means some sort of prodigy or wunderkind product of my loins. Not really, the soft sell is some kids ask five questions about dogs smelling other dogs butts, Little Mitch asks twenty five. Sometimes this rampant curiosity is a lot of fun, like when we’re at the children’s library, museum, or science centre. 

Superman_on_toilet_by_DiorgoOther times this unbridled curiosity can be a bit much if unchecked. “Dude, look I’m pretty sure The Incredible Hulk’s penis and testicles are green along with the rest of his body, now please stop asking me questions about superheroes genitals. What? Huh? I don’t know if Superman’s poop is bullet-proof like the rest of him that question is kind of… now that you mention it, that is a darn good question. Let Daddy look that one up on the internet.”

The days I struggle with the most are the “tough questions days.” The other caveat of having a gifted inquisitive child is that they ask questions that cut right to heart of the matter. The thing is, Little Mitch inherited his daddy’s tenacity and you have to answer or he won’t drop it, you can’t distract him, evade the question, or shift his focus, it doesn’t work. He’s like a four and a half year old question Terminator. You just have to answer and be honest with him.

Little Mitch: “Daddy? When are you Mommy going to get married again?”

Mitch: (taking a deep breath, holding back tears) “Well buddy, Mommy and Daddy are not going to be married anymore. We’re not going to get married again either. We’re still a family, we love you, but it was just Mommy and Daddy were fighting a lot and we decided to not be married anymore.”

Little Mitch: “Oh yeah! I get two homes now! I forgot! (thinking for a few seconds) “Daddy, are you ever going to get married again?”

Mitch: (stunned for a few seconds) “Oh wow, buddy. I wasn’t expecting that question. I don’t know buddy. Maybe. Who knows. I might meet someone someday. But right now, probably not for a very long time.” 

Little Mitch: “Daddy? How come you don’t cry?”

I was taken aback. I had no answer. I wished he was older and could understand that Daddy is too pissed off right now to cry, but I didn’t want him thinking that I was mad at him in anyway about the divorce. 

I have my days. 



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How Did We Get Here? (Originally Published June 23 2011)

DISCLAIMER: I’ve been debating for a few weeks now if I was going to repost these “Mitch Classic” blogisodes from when my marriage ended. I went back and forth between “I don’t want to repost them and relive that experience” to “I should post them to show how far I’ve come since then.” I concluded that Mitch Being Honest is about being honest, and being true to myself and to not post them would be contradictory to my blog premise.


It’s a strange feeling waking up one morning and realizing your marriage is finished. 

Yesterday morning I woke up and was still married, by that evening when I went to bed my marriage was over. 

I’m sure many of my readers noticed that blogisodes were coming few and far between as of late. I kind of hinted in blogisodes that there was a lot going on in my personal life and now dear reader, you know why. I’m not going to turn this blogisode into a bitch session of the messy specific details of why we’re divorcing, as the details don’t matter. As most people know when a relationship is ending, it’s not one reason but a myriad of reasons. 

I apologize if todays blogisode is rambling and all over the place, I’m utilizing the advice an English professor gave me in my university days. She said, “when you are feeling, just write, don’t think, just feel and write.”

As I sit at my kitchen table looking out the window on the orange morning sun hitting the trees my thoughts are grieving the life we had. We were together 16 years…16 years, that’s half my life. 

Yesterday I was married, today I am not. 

At this point I’m not sad about the marriage ending, could be the shock, reality will probably sink in a few weeks from now, but right now in a surreal way I feel… relief. I think deep down I knew this thing was done a while ago. The cracks in the foundation became chasms. 

I worry for my 5 year old son. When I got married I promised myself that my son would not be a child of 104370352_divorce_282607cdivorce. I’m so sorry little man, we tried, I tried, I tried so hard to make it work, we really did, we did everything we could. I am so sorry for how this is going to change your life. I grew up as a child of divorce and so did your mommy. I promise you though, I promise with every fibre of my being that I will never slander your mother in front of you. She’s your mother and I still love and respect her even though we are moving to a new stage of our lives. We will still have a family, there will still be love, things will just be different from now on. Just know that you have been and will always be proof of the deep love mommy and daddy had. 

I admit I’m numb right now. It will be a while before the full emotional scale of things hits me. Today, was a painful sad day but there was hope, relief and we even managed to have a few laughs. I’m not angry, I feel anger over the situation but mostly I’m grieving the loss of what we had. 

I don’t know what the future holds. For the first time in my adult life, I will be single. I need to find out who I am outside of a failing marriage. I’m scared of the upcoming changes, and the uncertainty. But much like a marriage, this will be a journey.

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Back In The Dating Saddle…Again.

Greetings faithful readers. You’ve probably noticed a slow down in my posts as of late. This is pretty typical for me this time of year for a number of reasons:

-November and December are prime allergy and cold and flu season for me, and this year was no different. Mainly I lived on my couch in sweatpants feeling like 6lbs of shit stuffed into a 5lb sac.

-January to February there’s really not a whole lot going on. Plus, being in the middle of a Planet Hoth like winter in the middle of suburban hell, I tend to cocoon in my house with movies and books a little more than usual. When there’s sweet fuck all going in your life, there’s sweet fuck all to write about.


-The video game, Red Dead Revolver: Undead Nightmare, I got for Christmas has sucked entirely way too much of my free time. Killing hordes of zombies in the old west is just way too much fun for me to regret the lack of human contact and ensuing carpal tunnel.

-I’m putting actual honest to god effort into online dating.

Yes, that last one is the jumping off point for this blogisode. As you recall, I took a bit of a break from the online dating world after the soul bruising “Sweatpants Date.” Christmas rolled around and I learned one important delayed life lesson. Being single at Christmas sucks. It sucks almost as much as being drunk with your mom on X-mas eve while watching Die Hard as she starts to wax nostalgic after her fifth whisky screwdriver. I never noticed it my first divorced Christmas because I was working on a huge freelance writing gig right up until Christmas eve, and I had Little Mitch most of the time, I had no time to think about being divorced over the holidays.

Not this year though, I had no big projects, and with sharing custody of Little Mitch with his mom more than the year before, I had more time to myself. Then factor in I was so sick I was just at home with nothing to do but think. Too much time to think with nothing to do is never good for me. Plus, being so sick meant I was not exercising. Which, when you are bipolar and manage your moods with daily regular exercise means you got a depression bipolar downswing coming in the mail. Charlie Sheen’s bipolar gets out of whack he gets porn star girlfriends, more fame and a new tv show, I get depressed and mope like a EMO teenage girl on her first period. That’s when the self loathing starts. To sum, I felt like crap, I was loathing myself and my bipolar perceived “relationship failures” of 2012 and I just felt really, really divorced.


Finally, all my cold, flus and infections ran their course. I got well enough to ease into exercise again and my moods stabilized and I was back to my regular Mitchness.

I reflected upon 2012 and why I was so disappointed. I figured 2012 was the year I would date, and end up in a healthy relationship, that simple and straightforward, right? Nope. Didn’t work out that way. Me brooding, blaming and loathing myself isn’t going to change that. What was the common denominator for me in 2012 and the relationships that didn’t pan out? Me. Not only me, but my expectations. I realized a good portion of my after the fact disappointment in myself of how my relationships failed in 2012 was that I had naive, preconceived static expectations about how the dating year would pan out. I concluded I can’t change the people I dated, or how the relationships faltered but I can change my expectations. I concluded that when it comes to relationships and dating nothing is going to change if I don’t change it. It was time to get back in the dating saddle again.


I decided that in 2013 I will take the mentality of a closing pitcher in baseball. These guys are known as “closers”, they come in in the last innings of a game, throw strikes and hopefully end the game with a win. “Closers” are known for having short memories if they throw a bad pitch, or the ability to shake off adversity, and move on. That’s the mentality I need to take. No more brooding, blaming or loathing. When it comes to dating, my mentality is that of a closing pitcher, short memory, shake off the losses and one bad pitch is just one bad pitch forget it and move onto the next one.


So far, 2013 is off to a good dating start, with three dates with three different lovely ladies. Dating, like baseball can be a long gruelling up and down season, you just need to shake off the bad pitches and keep going one pitch at a time. Play ball!

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Ponderances With Mitch 3: Ponder Harder With a Vengeance (Originally Published April 15, 2011)

I didn’t really have any ideas for this weeks blogisode. However, one of my faithful readers posted some burning questions (your doctor can probably give you a topical cream for the burning sensation) for “Ponderances with Mitch” and I’m totally psyched that I finally received some interactive feedback on the blog. Without further ado, I give you the next sequel in my advice columnist adventures: “Ponderances with Mitch 3: Ponder Hard With a Vengeance.”

-Why do men when they get sick act like they are dying? Seriously us women, get back up on our feet and get through the day, but you men, almost act like we need to take you to the hospital? 

I’m going to break a Bro Code rule and let you know why we act like we are dying. We’re totally playing it up to drive you and the kids out of the house for a few hours. No other real reason. We just want a couple of quiet sane hours to ourselves. As for acting like you need to take us to the hospital we’re kind of hoping for that too. A few days in a government funded hotel doesn’t sound too bad. Three square meals, a bed to ourselves, attractive nurses and the occasional sponge bath. We’ll bring you and the kids back a souvenir bedpan. 


As for women getting back up their feet right away, is that necessarily a good thing? Sure you’re sicker than a mexican street dog but you’re back on your feet, that’s good right? I can speak from personal experience on this topic. No. This is not in any way, shape or form good. Mrs. Mitch likes to overcompensate for how sick she is by taking charge of the household and running things like she’s General MacArthur returning to Bataan. Unfortunately, in her sick state she has the mental capacity of Forrest Gump with a head injury. You can imagine how effective her leadership is. Go lie down, us men folk can run the house for a few days without you, you just need to accept that we do things they way we do them. Even if this means your husband and offspring are having Doritos and candy for dinner. Not that Mitch has ever done that sort of thing.

-Why do men shrink the clothes when doing laundry?

This bulletin just in from The Official Mitch Being Honest Bureau of Pointing Out What You Already Know But Don’t Want To Admit To Yourself…..it ain’t the clothes that are shrinking. Maybe we should have salad for dinner. 

Woman Putting on Tight Jeans

-Why are men are so obsessed with superheroes and action figures? 

They remind us of a simpler time in our childhood. And unless you start punching up your work stories about the girls at the office with some naughty pillow fights and completely juvenile lesbian innuendo, which doesn’t necessarily need to be true, you totally can lie about it, you just need to keep our attention; we’ll settle for superheroes. 


Why do kids nowadays have to text and check their cell phone every 2 minutes? Are you that important? 

I’ll be honest with you, I got nothing for this one. I’m not a kid person, never was, never will be and as long as they’re busy texting and checking their cell phones they’re staying off my lawn. Damn hooligans. 

-Why do they cancel good shows on TV? 

I agree wholeheartedly with you on this one. I have a terrible history of getting into a show that gets cancelled mid season. There’s nothing worse than committing to a few shows at the beginning of the new season and just when you start to get really invested in the characters or storyline the network cancels the shows. Then all the other shows you haven’t been watching are already in the middle of their season so if you start watching them you have no clue what’s going on. Then you’re doubly hooped because you got nothing to watch now. Then at some point you say to yourself, “ I got 200+ channels, in standard and HD, and a PVR, why the hell am I watching a Friends rerun I’ve seen at least 38 times?” (If you’re like me its secretly because you’re hoping they’re airing a lost episode where Monica and Rachel have a “Chained Heat” style cat-fight).


To sum, I have absolutely no answer as to why networks cancel good shows (I still lament the cancellation of “The Bionic Woman” reboot). My advice? Fake an illness, whine and bitch about said illness to the point that you drive your spouse and kids out of the house for a few hours and order a movie on pay per view and enjoy a couple quiet sane hours to yourself. 

Wow, another extraordinarily successful edition of Ponderances with Mitch. Stay tuned, Ponderances with Mitch will return someday with the next sequel “Ponderances with Mitch 4: Live Free or Ponder Hard.” 

No need to thank me, Im an idea man, it’s what I do.

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Mitch, Adequate Warrior (Originally Published April 1, 2011)

Greetings faithful readers, what’s new with Mitch? On the employment front we are pleased to announce that Mrs. Mitch got a promotion at her Home Depot gig to full time. Yes, the Mitch family is finally living the dual full time income dream. Besides the monetary upside, Mrs. Mitch and I will be able to see each other more often. 

Before her promotion she would work five evenings a week. I would often be in bed when she got home. It’s no surprise that this took a heavy toll on our marriage. We essentially became roommates who never saw each other, mostly conversed by text and had sex on the weekends. Alas, this was not the best recipe for a happy marriage; which eventually reached its toxic apex with a vein bulging screaming match on a family road trip. Even Little Mitch got in on the verbal fisticuffs on that one; a definite low point for the Mitch dynasty.

I won’t bore you with the details of how we got our marriage on track. We hashed things out, got honest with one another and made arrangements to fulfill what was missing in our relationship, all the typical Dr. Phil0 relationship clichés. I will tell you though we did end up going to marriage counseling and it ended in archetypal Mitch fashion. Me storming out and yelling at the counselor loud enough so the entire office could hear, “you know what? You can go (expletive for sexual intercourse) yourself lady!!!” I stewed outside the office for 20 minutes while Mrs. Mitch finished the session. When they do a career retrospective of me after my untimely and ultimately suspicious demise, I want that scene at the top of the clip reel while the Scorpions’ hard rock classic “Rock you like a Hurricane” plays.

Now that Mrs. Mitch is working full time we had to enroll Little Mitch in that kid prison known as daycare. He seems to enjoy it. In fact he was already telling me that he likes it because of all the girls. “Daddy, there’s lots of pretty girls in daycare. The boys stay at the water centre but I go play Barbies with the girls, because that’s where the girls sausage-on-grill-for-web1are.” At the age of four and half my spawn has figured out that to have any success with the birds a hip cat must separate oneself from the mini-sausage convention and go where the bird seed is. It took me until well after high school to figure that out.      

A coworker asked me the other day how we decided on naming Little Mitch. I gave him the story of how we named him after a John Wayne character from a western I liked. Then it got me thinking. When Mrs., Mitch and I were debating possible names for the fruit of my loins I noticed that a great deal of boy names were derived from another language and meant “great warrior” or “strong warrior” or some variation thereof. 

This got me thinking. Why are these names always meaning “strong” or “great” warrior? Why aren’t there names for “competent warrior,” “average warrior,” “mediocre warrior” or “adequate warrior?” At some point in ancient times when “warrior” was an actual viable profession, there had to have been some warriors who were decent enough to not get themselves killed but not exemplary enough with their fighting skills to gain any sort of professional recognition. Paycheque warriors, the nine to fivers of the warrior profession, the steady eddies of the armed combatant industry if you will. 

I think if I was a warrior, I’d be a solid albeit not extraordinary warrior, the kind of soldier a superior officer can depend on.

General: “Maximus, come. Tell me what you think of Mitch. I’m thinking of promoting him to my main squadron.”

Maximus: “You know, he’s a solid warrior Sir. Good with a sword, decent aim with a spear, can hold his own in unarmed combat. A little slow footed but he compensates with a good rapport with the other men Sir. The guy shows up for work every day, he’s reliable. I can’t complain.”

General: “I have noticed that. His pillaging is one of his strengths in his skill set. His plundering is solid, not the best plundering I’ve seen but certainly not the worst.”

Maximus: “He’s a stand up guy, he helped me move last weekend. when I found out my girlfriend was cheating on me with a Spartan last summer, he took me to Rome got me drunk, and paid for the whores. I think some of them may have been dudes, I’m not sure, and I was really shit faced. But hey, a real stand up fella, a real stand up fella General.”

No need to thank me, I’m an idea man. It’s what I do.


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Operation: Soup. (Originally Published March 17, 2011)

As I’m sure you have noticed from the time between blogisodes Mitch is still battling that stupid case of writers block. I honestly think I’m battling a case of winter depression. I’m bored as hell, listless, and can’t seem to flush out any funny ideas for a whole blogisode. The worst part is when someone asks you what’s new and you sourcreamliterally have nothing new you could even fake interesting with “Uhhh….I got a new no fat sour cream that tastes surprisingly like regular sour cream?” You know things are not going your way when you are turning declarative statements about your life into questions. Oh, god my life sucks…

Here are some potential topics that I thought about writing about but couldn’t get them off the runway and just abandoned them altogether: 

-Why pregnant women and midgets totally gross me out.

-Little Mitch’s recent fascination with making his butt hole talk.

-The lamest superpower ever: Mitch’s innate ability to recognize an asian woman from behind merely by her walking gait; and how and If I could use this ability to realistically fight crime. 

So, to battle the rut Mitch has fallen into I have decided it’s time to inject some new life into my social circle. It was during a particularly long cold snap that this occurred to Mitch. Due to the cold snap I couldn’t do my regular lunch time run. Okay I really don’t run thanks to the genetic gift of flat feet I was blessed with, I really just exercise walk. But telling people you are going for an “exercise walk” conjures up images of senior citizens wearing pastel track suits, bright white orthopaedic walking shoes, and swinging their arms high up by their chest as part of a morning mall walk club as they bitch about the state of health care. Instead I tell people I “run.”


Back to the original point, due to the cold spell I took a couple days off and spent my lunch in our break room at work. That particular day my usual work friends were not present due to illness, family care, and vacations. So I decided to listen to the rousing intellectually stimulating conversation of my other coworkers. 

They talked about soup.

That conversation lasted three days.

After the third day I promised myself two things. One, I’m avoiding spending time in the soul decaying break room at work as much as I possibly can in the future. Two, I need to expand my social circle. So “Operation Soup” was born. I immediately enrolled in a marathon walking class to meet some new people with the same hobby as me. My original intention was to enrol in a German language class based solely on the fact that while lintroducing Indiana Jones movies to Little Mitch (probably not the most culturally sensitive and accurate portrayal of our Bavarian brethren, I know) I thought “German sounds so damn cool, I must learn it.” So I enrolled in a Spanish class because there are no German classes in my hometown and really its not about the language but an opportunity to meet some new people. 

Maybe once I get some Spanish under my belt that Latin soap opera on late night cable with all the nudity will make some sense. “What’s going on? As far as I can tell he was delivering files of some sort to her, he offended her, she slapped him, then tried to stab him with a stapler but their hot blooded latino passions boiled over then they started going at it, but I am really not understanding why the midget clown who resembles Geraldo Rivera is there with that bowl of pudding.” 

Even today the need to expand my social circle has forced me to do something I promised myself I would never do. I took the laptop and went to Starbucks to do some writing. Just to get out of the house to be around some new people. Yes I’m the laptop pseudo writer wannabe douche at the coffee shop. And just so it can be just that little extra bit douchier, I own a Mac.

Often times, when I tell people about “Operation Soup” they respond “well you’re married, shouldn’t your wife be enough for you?” No. In fact I think its entirely ridiculous to put that amount of expectation on one person. We have been together for sixteen years, there is literally no topic, subject, or matter we have not talked about. No, don’t get me wrong it’s not like I don’t enjoy spending time with my wife. Shes gorgeous, sexy, feisty, and can hold her own with my over abundance of “Mitch-ness.” I love our date nights we always laugh and have a fantastic time. It’s just that my social circle has grown stagnant and a little dull as of late. I want new people to shoot the breeze with, a new perspective, a new point of view, a new comedic sensibility. Just to breathe some new life into the rut I’ve fallen into. 

The blog does fulfill my need to get things off my chest but it is a rather one sided conversation with me just yapping at you my faithful readers, unless some of you actually emailed me a “hello” once in a while, I’m just saying, would be nice. Big Hint Alert! (Yes that is a passive aggressive tone you’re getting). In the ten months since I got Mitch Being Honest off the ground the only person who emailed me was some A-hole who wanted me to link to his site and advertise his site on my website for his luxury six figure import car business. Hmmm, let me see advertise your site using the website I spent hours upon hours creating using the webspace that I am paying for on my own dime? Second, I really don’t think my readers are the proper target demographic for luxury imported exotic cars. Third, if you can afford to import luxury exotic cars you can afford your own damn website. Unless you’re an adult pornography website and are offering some sort of corporate sponsorship with loads of free swag, I’m totally listening. Mitch can be bought. 

No need to thank me, I’m an idea man. It’s what I do. 

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How the Dating Vacation Ended, Sort Of, Not Really.

Many people have been asking how the vacation from dating went and or ended. Well it hasn’t really ended nor has it really continued. I don’t know how to end it. Technically, I never ended the vacation from dating, I just stopped caring about it. After the three days of sweatpants, not caring and not working out got to me, I got the self loathing and soul crushing defeat of dating scene burnout out of my system. Life just kind of went on and I didn’t really think about dating. I got sick for a good 10 days, that kept me fairly preoccupied. Then I flew off for a four day vacation to the west coast with my Step-Mom*, to see Springsteen in concert. That four days out of the fishbowl of my life was good for me in this dating funk slump I’ve been in.

(*Hereafter referred to as “Mom”, she’s been there for thirty years since I was five, she’s more than earned losing the “Step” part and gets full title.)


I spent a lot of time talking with my Mom on our vacation about my train-wrecked relationships of the past year. She brought the topic up actually, I think she was interested to see how my life has been since the divorce, and wanted to get a feel for the new life I’ve been trying to create. I won’t bore you with the details of what I told her, and out of respect to any of my exes, I don’t air my specific dirty laundry details on the blog.

Her advice was solid, I have to say. Normally the relationship advice I get is from friends my age or dating articles from one of the dating websites I’m on. It was so refreshing to get relationship advice from the perspective of someone thirty years into their second marriage. Who better to give you honest, truthful feedback than your Mom? Her advice was so simple, so straightforward, not slogged down with pop psychology babble. It was not laden with bullshit motivational platitudes (“You have to send your intentions out the universe” *barf*).

Her counsel made so much sense in its simplicity as she delivered this over a few beers and nachos in a quaint little sports bar p168112-Cannon_Beach-Warren_House_Pub_Nachos_and_Beerwe found. It was so good to be in a different city away from the roles we inhabit in our regular day to day lives and just talk like two adults, not just Mother and Son.

Her basic take on it was that the online dating machine creates a false sense of intimacy. So this would explain why I feel like many of the women I am dating are moving way too fast for me; whereas I’m coming out of a sixteen year long marriage I need a much slower pace. Sixteen years is a lifetime, my failed marriage is a teenager who can drive in Canada, or get a pilots license in Australia.

Her advice could not have come at a better time. I never before have been so disillusioned with relationships that the thought of quitting relationships seemed like a feasible viable option. I was on the precipice of embracing my single-hood permanently cliff and ready to jump. I had all but made the decision that there was no woman out there that had anything she could offer me that I already did not possess.

I was and still am a fairly self contained unit on all fronts. What do I need someone in my life for? I already have everything Iacmerocket-300x187 require. One could argue sex is the one thing I could not fulfill on my own. To which I respond, considering the amount of bullshit that sex created for me and my relationships, I came to the conclusion sex was not worth the hassle. If relationships were dynamite sticks, my dick was the fuse this past year.

Her advice was to toss the terms and definitions out the window. Strike the term “dating” from my vocabulary, she said. It pigeonholes, and almost creates a prescribed track that the relationship has to follow (First date meeting-Third date-Sex-Tenth date-Terrifying ‘so where are we going with this?’ talk etc.)

Instead she said just cultivate relationships naturally. See how it goes. Go to a movie for the sake of going to a movie with someone you like, don’t call it a movie date. Have dinner for the sake of having dinner with someone you like, don’t call it a dinner date. Go for a coffee for the sake of going for coffee with someone you like, don’t call it a coffee date. Go skeet shooting for the sake of going skeet shooting with someone you like, don’t call it a skeet shooting date. That last one wasn’t true but you get the general idea Mom was putting across.

So where does this leave me now? Fucked if I know. I’m just taking mom’s advice and seeing how things go. Maybe by this time next year Kate Winslet will finally accept my skeet shooting offers.


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