Poems, photos, rants and raves that are all inevitably me in one form or another.
I don’t use Tumblr anymore, in fact, I hardly glance at it. However, I have been considering the possibility of using it as a journal of sorts to chart my experiences being single and trying to better figure out who and what I want, while currently cohabiting with an ex (which at this point, frankly, is more inconvenient than emotionally distressful). So far being single has been fun, thought I am trying to be conscious both of what I plan to get out of it and also how best to avoid pitfalls that brought down my other relationships. More later, maybe.
Welp, I’m awake on couch in boyfriend’s living room because the anxiety/nausea from taking all my meds at once again (ugh) and boyfriend snoring was keepin me up. We had plans to hang tonight, but I came over later than anticipated—but we basically had sex and fell asleep (not that i’m complaining on principle, sex is awesome). Rule of life: do all things before sex or they won’t get done (which is why I ended up cleaning the kitchen at 3 AM the other day…le sigh) -____-
"I love you, you idiot" I said as I tapped his face in semblance of a slap, his arms wrapped around my waist.
"So don’t mess it up."
Often I find after emotional instances, the last thing I want is to talk about it more, to hash it out in detail.
But maybe doing so will help get some of it out of my head.
So after finding out and confronting D, I found out that one night, when he, myself and my roommate all got drunk together and I went to bed, they made out.
Now, after processing the details and having a long talk, in the grand scheme of things, him drunkenly making out with another girl is not that huge a deal.
And yet, the more I think about it, the more trouble I have with brushing it away.
The thoughts that continually plague me as they circle through my mind, as I follow through with the mundane tasks of my day-to-day:
As I said, it is less the incident itself than the implications, the fact that it happened between two people who care—or at least cared about me at some point, that both expressed whatever general desires they had, without a second thought. That they both chose to lie with little guilt associated with it, to “save me.”
I’m trying to get past this. Or, trying to figure out how to, how to be able to trust that there are those around me who will not forsake me for more base emotions and needs.
I forgive easily. But what do I accept as a genuine mistake and what do I perceive as an indication of trouble to come?
Just, albeit not in the most honest of ways, found out something really…shitty. I need to find out what happened, but I am shaking angry/emotional and the last thing I want to do is go to work in two hours. Fuck.
Just got a message from someone letting me know they have forgiven me.
As I work through coming to terms with my relationships and interactions in the past, I have to let things go, often I have to accept that people I once loved or cherished deeply have ill-will towards me. It is…inexplicably wonderful to have been granted forgiveness.
The memories of you come slow and soft,
like the songs you liked to listen to.
the piano chords carried a vague sweetness,
empty lines with heavy promises.
whisps of cigarette smoke floating through the heavy summer air,
the smell of whiskey, slightly sour on your breath.
together we were alone
as you stared off into the distance, your lips
moving with the words and I wondered—hoped—that I floated on the chorus.
And suddenly, you’d look at me, and
I’d pretend you would imagine me as the shiny-haired protagonist of your
next favorite love(d and lost) song.
Instead of wanting to be loved, I wanted to be the one you wished for when you thought of love
I felt the verses of that familiar song in my pocket, when we met again.
instead burying your sad eyes in my shoulder
And slipping a pen into your shirt pocket as I walked away.
I miss the feeling of going out on first dates, of that nervousness and the buzz of a drink or two, when, with the confidence of the alcohol propelling you, know the guy is watching you walk to to the bathroom, and the rush of good conversation.
I still love dates with my boy, but I feel like there’s no more mystery for him to uncover. He’s seen me naked, he knows my secrets…the element of catching and charming is gone.
I was reading an article about how different guys’ sense of women’s fashion is. Of course, there’s some guys that know fashion and are really into it, but I’d venture to say your average dude knows that some stuff looks “nice” and they like it, but doesn’t know the different between a peasant skirt and an A-line skirt. Or, a shrug and a sweater. You know?
Anyway, in the comments, women were discussing how their boyfriend perceives/comments on their style. This comment I found to be amazing:
My husband once told me my outfit made me look like a pirate. The next day, he told me I did not look like a pirate. I thanked him and he responded, “That was not a compliment.”
Nothing more heartbreaking than the man you love (or the woman/person/etc) crying in complete helplessness and anger in front of you about something that can’t be fixed.
And I don’t want to hear a damn thing about real men crying. All the men I’ve seen cry have built up these emotions over a long time, probably because they feel like they could not cry. I don’t know. I’m not a man, and I cry a lot.
He was so angry, so broken over his dad’s part and departure in his life, still haunting him years after, and I had nothing to say. I didn’t know what to say; I didn’t want to bullshit him, and tell him everything was going to be okay.
So I wiped away his tears and held his hand, and kissed his cheek, tears running down my own face as I tried to console him. And I quietly reminded him that his pain shouldn’t be swept under the rug.
I remember thinking that this was inevitable; no man without a father, either through life circumstance or death (and I’ve date quite a few) has resolve on the issue. Men as it is often have difficulty with their fathers. I thought that he dealt with the circumstances (not mine to share) remarkably well. And poor thing has been thinking for years that he has to, that he doesn’t have room to complain.
This doesn’t change anything, this hidden anger and grief. He is more vulnerable than I thought, but that’s what partners do for one another. Support one another, for better or for worse. He has stroked my hair while I curled up on my bed, sobbing, and has listened to me, seen me battle my demons. I will do nothing less for him.
So, regarding the de-friending situation of yesterday:
The guy in question is a guy I dated over the summer. It didn’t carry over because I moved to Colorado and I was not going to do long distance, again. And I think he’s always held a grudge about that. But anyway, he texted me back yesterday, eventually, and said it was just too much to look at my tumblr and facebook, etc—it was “torturous” for him, because he still had feelings for me. Still. Strong enough ones that he couldn’t get past it, even though we had conversed a handful of times in the past couple of months that gave no indication of this.
I asked him why he couldn’t tell me this—that why it made me angry was because he simply slipped away, and told me I didn’t notice earlier, so I should feel guilty. He said that if we talked more, if I “cared”, then he would have told me. I didn’t respond with such, but frankly I feel like that’s horseshit. I responded as much as he did, and given the busy schedule I have had, I give what I can to someone who is also very involved in his own busy life. Instead of telling me why, or even explaining, he chooses to blame me.
Regardless. This is not the first time this has happened—being defriended (not just in the Facebook sense of the word—but in real life) because feelings are too strong to have friendship. This has happened time and again, and I always end up getting hurt, feeling a horrible sense of loss. Maybe I should accept that people who have had romantic feelings for me can’t be my friends. Maybe that’s not possible.
In many of these situations, there have been reciprocal feelings on my end. But I deal with things differently—I accept that something will not be a reality, and I move on. That doesn’t mean that there’s not lingering feelings there, but I’ve dealt with enough disappointment in my life that I accept that not everything can as you want it to. I am then accused of “not caring,” of “lying” of “being over it” while the other person is still struggling. I deal with things in my own way. I process it as I mention above. And then the friendship I want to hold onto so dearly is revoked.
But talking to someone the other day, I came to the realization—maybe I should just let them go. Maybe that’s the easiest thing to do, maybe it will stop me from getting hurt so often—and them, too. In some cases, it’s difficult for me to know how they’re feeling/to what extent they’re feeling that—and so it ends up being a horrible surprise. But I guess, bottom line, I should take my own point of view and apply—something will not be a reality—move on. Friendship cannot be. This has been proven time and again.
Let’s see if I learn it, this time.
When the “honeymoon phase” passes, my fight or flight mechanism kicks in. And I always want to fly. I feel like things get duller and then, oh god is it going to be like this for the rest of my life what if i’m with him forever would i be okay with that or would we get sick of each other do i love him i mean really love him or am i just settling because i’m afraid i’ll get stuck but maybe i’m just afraid or impatient or unrealistic i can’t really tell we’ve stopped having as much sex does that mean he doesn’t find me sexy or vice versa or maybe i just can’t put in the effort or maybe it’s normal i never know what’s normal or what signs are that i need to leave fuck love is complicated.
My brain makes things more complicated, because, yeah, I don’t know what’s normal “settling in” of relationships and what are signs that point to the fact that maybe reality (post-honeymoon) just isn’t as grand.
This weekend was sort of a testament to that—and not because it was bad, at all—I just felt like it was a test, somehow. And I think we’re just settling in, I’m not unhappy—just always looking for signs that I made the right decision.