The Sonia Show

Writer. Podcaster. Beer drinker. Movie watcher. Mother. Goober.


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You’re so vain you probably think this whole blog is about you

Yeah, so, I recently learned that my soon-to-be ex-husband and my ex-friend/his mistress read my blog.

Why are they reading it? I have no idea.

Hey, we did this really shitty, hurtful thing to someone. I can’t wait to read about how shitty and hurtful it was.

Imagine doing what they did and then taking the time to go to my blog and read about how much it hurt me, AND THEN thinking you’re the victim.

I know we cheated on our spouses and destroyed two families, but what about meeeeeee and my feeeeeeeelings.”

Seriously, you won. You get to be together. You lied to two people who really loved you and broke their hearts. And 10 points to Slytherin (which I assume is your house) because your spouses, who did nothing wrong, only get to see their child 50% of the time now. Good job. Really. I’m sure it’s true love, and it will work out great for you, and it won’t end when one of you does the same exact thing to the other. That never happens.

So, yeah, I’ve blocked them on all social media channels because they’re not my friends. I don’t want to see their photos or read their tweets, and they can’t see mine. But I can’t control who reads this blog, so if they want to read it they can. This brings me back to my original question: Why?

If they had a blog I wouldn’t read it, because I don’t need to know what they’re doing or how they’re feeling. Are they reading it because maybe their friends read it, and now their friends know the truth? Well, I’d ask why they weren’t being honest with their friends in the first place. And then I’d wonder if they were being honest with themselves. I suspect the answer is no. I believe it was the genius poet Lizzo who said, “Truth hurts.”

Knowing that they’re reading it isn’t going to stop me from writing about whatever I want or need to write. This blog is for me. It’s not for them. You don’t like it, don’t read it. And as a friend recently told me, “The high road can get fucked.”


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Forgiving myself

Yeah, so, at some point I’ll forgive myself for being so trusting. Not just when it comes to my soon-to-be ex-husband, but also with the woman who pretended to be my friend.

I realize that she’s not the one who stood up in front of all our friends and family and made a vow. I don’t singularly blame her for their affair and destroying two marriages and families. It takes two. But we were supposedly friends. I say “supposedly” because I look back now, and I wonder if it was ever about me. Maybe it was about my husband all along.

When she expressed interest in my interests, I thought she was just trying to find ways to connect with me and create a friendship. She was into wine, but then she started getting into beer because I was into beer. She wanted to go to yoga with me. I started Weight Watchers, and then she started Weight Watchers, even though she didn’t need to lose weight. I bought roller skates, and then she bought roller skates. Sometimes I feel like she Single White Female-d me. And it worked.

I’m a good person, who was nothing but super nice to her. She knew how much I loved my little family. My soon-to-be ex and I were a good team (or so I thought), raising an amazing autistic son and having fun wherever we went.

I’ve survived breast cancer twice. I’ve had a mastectomy, and one time I even confided to her that I was insecure about breasts after those surgeries. That I didn’t think I was attractive anymore. That I was flawed and broken, and no one would ever love me or want me, but my husband did, and I was so lucky. LOL! So naive. Instead of being a good friend to me, she saw it as an opportunity. Our friendship didn’t matter. My family didn’t matter. I didn’t matter. She made her move, and it worked.

I’m sure she’s really proud of herself. The work she put into learning about my family and my ex really paid off for her. And now these two people can be together knowing that they’re with the kind of person who would lie to the people who care about them the most and break up their family for funsies. How cool! Good luck with that.

I’ve definitely thought about trying to forgive and forget, and move on. But fuck that. I think the great poet Taylor Swift said it best …

And I am moving on. And I’m so proud of the person I am. I’m smarter, stronger, and more capable than I thought.

I’ve always been a trusting person. I’m a very open person who is generous with my heart and my time. And I make friends easily, because I’m a curious person who asks a lot of questions, and I’m very good at making people feel comfortable. I like that about myself. I’ve always thought of it as a gift.

But sometimes I do wonder if I’m too trusting. Should I be more guarded when I make new friends? It’s not like I have another husband for a friend to steal so maybe I don’t need to worry about it.


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Quiet please

Yeah, so, we had a product summit this week at work with many, many meetings and breakout rooms. And even me, the extrovert is emotionally exhausted.

Luckily, we have Friday off. Here’s actual footage of me walking toward Friday.

We have the second Friday off every month, and we’re calling it “Recharge Friday.” Last month I decided to go all-in on the recharge: I got a massage and mani-pedi. This Recharge Friday I think I’m going to veg out. I’m recording What a Creep in the morning, but after that, I’m looking forward to an entire day of not talking.

I think I need some serious quiet time, and by quiet time, I mean me not talking, which goes against everything I stand for.

I’m going to read and catch up on an Oscar-nominated movie or two. I also got this amazing puzzle at the recommendation of my friend Christine …

This week in podcasting

We talked about Jerry Lewis on this week’s What a Creep. He sucks.

And over at Dorking Out, Margo and I talked about “The Rock,” starring Nicolas Cage and Sean Connery. I loooove talking about San Francisco movies, and this was no exception.


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My fancy new title

Yeah, so, your girl got promoted!

You’re looking at a Content Design Manager. I know … I’m so fancy.

I’m so proud of the work I do. I thought a lot about whether to move into a manager role. With everything that’s been going on in my life, I debated staying on the individual contributor track. It’s nice to only be responsible for yourself, to only have to think about what you’re working on.

I always find a reason to hold myself back. For more than 10 years I stayed at a job that wasn’t fulfilling emotionally or financially. I stayed because it was easy and flexible. I had some good reasons for staying. I was dealing with two cancer diagnoses in 5 years. I had Calvin, and then Calvin was diagnosed as autistic. I focused my attention on his appointments and getting him services like speech therapy and occupational therapy. And after that was all set up, I just stayed because looking for a new job was hard. And, truthfully, I was more focused on my then-husband. I wanted to support him and help him grow in his career. He made a little bit more money than me, and it would benefit the entire family if he did well.

So, yeah, like a lot of women I undervalued my contribution and underestimated what I could do. But I finally got to the point where I wanted more. I wanted a job I actually cared about. I wanted to feel good about going to work.

At my old gig, Nina introduced me to content strategy, which led me to a content design job at Zendesk. Chelsea took a chance on someone who didn’t have a ton of content design experience but is super passionate about using plain, human language in interactions.

And now Nina works at Zendesk, too! I’m super grateful to Nina and Chelsea. They’re amazing managers, and I’ve been so inspired by them. They’ve created a supportive, connected team across timezones.

I thought long and hard about making this move. Is it what I really wanted? Would I be any good at it? And I kept coming back to this: We need more leaders that lead with their hearts and empathy. I always do that. It comes to me naturally. I instinctively want to help people. I want to build relationships and clear the path for people to do good work.

I know I have a lot to learn, but I’m up to the challenge.


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Save the date

Yeah, so, this is an actual conversation I had …

Them: Are you seeing anyone?

Me: Yeah, I see a therapist every other week.

Them: Umm, I meant are you dating anyone?

Me: Bahahahahahahahahahhahahahahahahahahahahahahah *deep breath* bhahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahhahahahahahahahahahah. No.

I’m surprised how often I’m asked if I’m dating, on dating apps, or thinking about getting back out there. I did sign up for a dating app for a hot minute. One night Drinky Sonia thought, “I wonder what’s out there?” And I saw a lot of “Ew no,” and I saw some perfectly nice-seeming men. But it was a no for me, dawg.

I deactivated those apps in record time, because I don’t want it. At least not now. Maybe not ever. I honestly don’t know.

The truth is the bar for a man in my life is really fuckin’ high now because they have to compete with me.

I love spending time with me. We have the same sense of humor. We’re always laughing out loud. We love all the same things. We love to try new beer and cocktails. We love try new vegan recipes. We love to watch and listen to all the same things. We’re honest with ourselves and deal with our shit.

I’m a great partner to myself, and it’s delightful.

I don’t know if there’s a man out there that can compete with that. BUT, I’ll never say never. I could meet someone, and we vibe, and it’s on.

But until then I’m not going to be sad and single. I’m all about being happy and single.

Me and the only man I’ll ever need at
Laughing Monk Brewery during SF Beer Week

This week’s adventures in podcasting …

We’re chatting about one of my favorite comedies of all time: “Ghostbusters.” We still love it. I know, listen to Dorking Out for such surprising hot takes.

Over at What a Creep, we’re talking about Supreme Court justice Clarence Thomas and his creepy wife Ginni Thomas. We also have an episode about the Zoot Suit Riots – the event, not the song by the creepily named Cherry Poppin’ Daddies. Seriously, that’s a gross name. Can you imagine naming your band Virgin Takin’ Fathers? Ewwwwwuh.


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Beer and now

Yeah, so, it’s the most wonderful time of the year — it’s SF Beer Week in the Bay Area.

I’ve been making a few stops at breweries here and there to taste the new stuff. I went to Harmonic Brewing, Standard Deviant, and Zeigeist, which was pouring the coveted Pliny the Younger and they had a ton o’ HenHouse Brewing. I’ll hit Barebottle and Laughing Monk at some point this weekend.

My favorite so far has been the rosé saison from Standard Deviant. In fact, I probably should go pick up another 4-pack.

Standard Deviant’s Rosé Saison, and a rum horchata cream ale

I also ventured to my happy place last weekend. I went to the Alamo Drafthouse on Super Bowl Sunday. I figured the theater would be pretty empty, and I was right. My good buddy Beegs met up with me to watch “Jackass Forever.”

Yeah, you read that right: “Jackass Forever.” And just like all the other “Jackass” movies I screamed and laughed until my sides hurt. I know it’s just 90 minutes of guys getting hit in the balls, but that shit is hilarious.

Lest you need reminding, I have a history with “Jackass.” It was the only time the San Francisco Examiner let the lowly TV critic review a movie.

Check out that quote on the bottom left. I’m so famous.

This week on the podcast

We’re talking about Supreme Court justice Clarence Thomas and his super creepy wife Ginni on this week’s What a Creep.

On Dorking Out, our podcasting brother from another mother Adam Riske from F This Movie joined us to dork out about “Waiting To Exhale,” which if you’ve read my previous posts you know I’m basically living it right now.


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The high road

Yeah, so, I’m sure my soon-to-be ex-husband and his mistress would’ve preferred I took the high road and not written about my experiences.

I certainly thought about it. I thought of Michelle Obama saying, “When they go low, we go high.” I wanted to be the better person. I did that for a year.

But what is the high road?

Is the high road me being quiet so they can pretend they’re good people? Is the high road me lying to people and saying, “Things just didn’t work out” so they don’t have to face those pesky consequences? Is the high road nearby lover’s lane, where they used to hook up while lying to their respective spouses? I can’t find it on Google Maps.

The high road to them is me healing my broken heart in silence so they can control the narrative. That road sounds dark, lonely, and scary. Hard pass.

If me speaking my truth upsets them and makes them feel the sads, then maybe my truth isn’t the problem.

Being honest with y’all has made me feel better. I’m healing. I feel stronger and empowered. I feel more like myself.

Thank you! I’m so grateful to y’all. You’ve commented, emailed, texted, and slid into my DMs. I know I have all the support, and it means so much to me.


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A hex on your ex

Yeah, so, my podcasting sister from another mister Margo suggested that I keep a few insults at the ready just in case I run into my soon-to-be ex-husband and his mistress.

She suggested “Hey cunts,” and “”When people ask how you met, what lie do you use?”

Those are solid burns.

I came up with “Ewwww I thought garbage day was on Thursday.” Get it. They’re trash.

I’ve been working on a list of hexes you can put on your ex and/or their partner in infidelity. They’re not serious. We don’t want to wish harm to them, riiiight? Right?! These are just hexes that cause inconveniences. They’re minor but annoying, especially if they happen all the time.

  • I hope you never can remember your passwords
  • May both sides of your pillow always be warm
  • I hope you always get a “See cashier” when you’re trying to pay at the pump
  • May you always accidentally click on an ad
  • I hope every time you use a restroom in a bar there’s no toilet paper
  • May you always run out of hot water in the middle of your shower
  • I hope all of your nonstick pans are sticky
  • I hope every time you try to pick up dog poop there’s a whole in the bag and you touch the poop
  • May there always be a little pebble in your shoe and you can never get it out
  • I hope every time you warm up a burrito it’s frozen in the middle
  • May every cover letter and resume you send out have a typo
  • I hope every time you go to kill a spider it jumps on your face
  • May you miss the ripeness window of your avocado (Thanks, Hazel)
  • I hope every blueberry you eat tastes like dirt
  • May your browsing history go public
  • I hope every time you do a jigsaw puzzle it turns out there one piece missing
  • I hope every time you wash a wine glass it breaks
  • May every time you lick an ice cream it falls off the cone on to the ground
  • I hope the waitstaff never remembers to bring your side of ranch or refill your coffee
  • May you never find the scissors

If y’all have any suggestions, share it in the comments.


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Big city, small town

Yeah, so, San Francisco is a big city, but it’s also a small town. There’s a very good chance that when you go out you’re going to run into someone you know.

This is my nightmare.

I’m terrified that I’m going to run into my soon-to-be ex-husband and his mistress, or just his mistress (who was my good friend before she became his mistress). It’s not my nightmare because I’m afraid of what they’ll say to me, because seriously, who cares? It would probably sound like Charlie Brown’s teachers to me. It’s my nightmare because I don’t do mad very well. I’m not an angry person. I rarely get mad. The only time I yell is at sporting events or my drink order in a crowded bar. (Kids, back in my day, we would go into crowded bars with no masks and drink alcohol. Ask your parents or grandparents about it. Good times.)

When I do get mad, I tend to just burst into tears, which makes the person I’m mad at think that I’m sad or ashamed when really I’m so angry I could scream. I’m mad at them because what they’ve done is so hurtful and shitty. They deserve to have someone yell at them every time they leave the house. Maybe I should pay someone to follow them around and boo them until they cry. Should I start a GoFundMe for that?

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Yeah! What she said.

So why should I be anxious about this? I’ve done nothing wrong. They’re the ones that should be anxious. They should be so scared to run into me in public because then they will be face-to-face with the fact that they’re bad people. They lied, cheated, destroyed two families, and continued to lie even after the truth was out – sneaking around and pretending to work on their marriages when really they were still seeing each other all along. Why? So people will think they at least tried to save their marriages? All it did was prolong the pain. And to think, the mistress is training to be a therapist. Bahahahahahahahahha. *deep breath* Bahahahahahahahahaahhhahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha. *cries*

It’s my hope that I don’t ever have to see them or her. I have to see him. We co-parent the best kid on the planet, which means I have to deal with my ex whether I want to or not. And, truthfully, it’s difficult for me. It’s difficult because I thought I knew him, and I didn’t. And I thought our little family was important to him, and it wasn’t. He never tried. He didn’t fight for me, our relationship, or our family. And that’s the part I can never forgive.


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Let’s be honest

Yeah, so, I don’t really know how to write on this blog without being honest. I guess that’s why I haven’t been writing that much.

This blog has always been therapy for me. I write about what’s true, what’s really happening. I write about my life, problems and all. I write it out and process that shit. Sometimes other people read it, and it helps them, too. That’s my favorite part.

So here’s the truth, divorce is hard. I have a lot of emotions and questions flying around in my head all the time. Who is this person I’m divorcing? The man I fell in love with and married would’ve never cheated on me. Did I ever really know him? I always referred to him as my mighty, mighty good man on this blog. It turned out he was my mighty, mighty typical man, cheating on me with a supposed friend. Did she ever want to be my friend or did she just want my husband even though she was married, too? Am I too trusting? Are all my happy family memories tainted and ruined forever? Will I ever be able to look back without it hurting so much?

And honestly, how do I tell my story without sounding like the woman scorned and a petty bitch? Or maybe that shit doesn’t matter. He lies. I don’t. I write the truth here. I always have.

I’m just so tired of pretending. I’m tired of pretending that I can just rub some dirt on it and walk it off. I’m tired of pretending that we both tried to work on our marriage when the truth is that only I did the work. I’m tired of pretending that what happened didn’t shake me to my core. You can go back into the archives on this blog. I truly believed that we were a true love story. My heart was absolutely shattered when I learned the truth. I was in shock for months. I thought we might try to work it out and go to marriage counseling. But the truth is we were never going to work it out. Even during counseling, he was most likely still seeing her and going through the motions so he could say he’s a good guy who really tried. Unfortunately for me, I was gullible enough to believe that we had something worth saving. It took me a long time to stop feeling stupid.

But, BUT, stay with me here … luckily, I have the best friends in the world. The kind of friends who take me out of town so I can get some perspective, and then proceed to shake the shit out of me and say, “What the fuck are you doing?”

So, how am I now? Pretty good, my friends. Seriously. I’m good. Don’t worry.

I’ve learned so much about myself in this past year. I’m stronger than I ever thought. Plus, I’m a goddamn delight, and I’ll punch anyone who says differently. I’m creating a warm, happy home for me, Calvin, and the dogs. I’ve redecorated the house, and it feels so much more like me with colors, more light, comfy furniture, and soft throw blankets everywhere to snuggle under.

My new office ❤️

I’m actually kinda proud of myself. I’m handling my business. I’m dealing with everything the very best I can, and I can hold my head up high. There’s no shame in my game. I did everything I could to save my marriage, but it takes two. And now I’m doing everything I can to raise a smart, kind-hearted human while taking care of myself, too.

My friends are always down to hang out, chat on the phone, or text whenever I need it. They’re more than happy to be my plus one at weddings or check out new breweries. They boost me up when I’m down. Oh, and they don’t sleep with my husband, which makes them the very best people. Too soon?

I have a fabulous job surrounded by smart and caring people. Even when the world around me is on fire, my coworkers on the other side of my webcam or in Slack always inspire me, make me laugh, and offer their support. I adore them, and someday we’re going to all be together in person, and I’m going to hug the shit out of all of them.

I’m having so much fun podcasting with Margo. Oh, and What a Creep just got picked up by Spreaker from IHeart Radio. No big deal. We’re going to make a little advertising money, and eventually (fingers crossed) do some live shows. I know, right?! I’m downright giddy.

I really am enjoying my time these days. I’ve been baking. I’ve been reading more. I’ve been journaling, and I’m ready to start writing again – on this blog and some other projects I have simmering in my brain. I watch whatever I want without judgment. If I want to watch “Legally Blonde” for the millionth time or turn on yet another true crime documentary series on Netflix, I do it.

So, yeah, that’s the deal. This is my story. I’m owning it. I’m speaking my truth. I’m not pretending anymore.