Empty.

I miss that emptiness. It’s awful when that’s all you have to feel. But it’s even more awful when that’s what you feel when you’re laying next to someone. Someone with whom you should be able to talk the emptiness away. But anytime you try your lips lock and your tongue needs more quenching than the Sahara.

So instead of confessing my feelings I lie here. In all senses of the term. I blog while he lies next to me sleeping peacefully. Thinking I’m okay. And that in turn makes me feel worse.

I think I shall rename the curse to the “Charm of Chuck.” In essence of the character from Good Luck Chuck. It’s based on a true story you know. Sleep with me and you’ll get what your heart desires. I just have to stop forgetting. Rule #1 or whatever I should call it. I’m never going to be on that other side. No matter the circumstances it will always come down to me. Perhaps it’s a very good thing I have a copy of Love 101: to Love Oneself is the Beginning of a Life Long Romance.

This doomed relationship sucks in particular for so many reasons. I fought it off hard at the beginning. Perhaps it went awry when I allowed him at my house. THAT will definitely not be a mistake I make twice. Perhaps it did not help that I let him fall for me. I know that didn’t help. It makes it too easy to make that a two way street. And so I got stuck with this battle in my head. Left brain vs right brain. Long term and feasibility vs pleasure right now and happiness. I almost gave it up but I let him convince me happiness was the way to go. I should have given up.

Now it hurts again. Worse? Not sure, but it hurts. At first this whole thing started with the knowledge and mutual agreement that he could never give me what I want. Fine. Okay. Great. But now I think it’s more of me not being capable of giving him what he wants. I told him I couldn’t give him the package deal and I didn’t elaborate on it. Then I had the brain wars and tonight talking, it was settled. But then he commented. Commented on the fact that we can sleep with whomever (totally in agreement from the get-go) and that up until this point he hadn’t wanted to, but now there’s someone that’s piquing his intrigues but he’s not sure.

I’m sure that if that happens I won’t be able to continue this with him. And I’m not sure if that means at all or in part and if so then what parts. I know I should be able to tell him this but I feel like that conversation would be ultimatum-ish and that’s not my goal. But is to telling him fair? I just need him to know that I am not strong enough to handle this. This is why I have rules. This feeling, this well of tears in my eyes. This all while he sleeps beside me, is why I have rules. I have no idea why it was so easy to break all the rules with him. I have no idea why I told him with great ease all of the things I have told him. I don’t regret it. But now. Now it just sucks.

The things you learn when you look inside.

Shitty shitty shitty times at work again.
Last year I think I made it into February before I started crying from the overwhelming amounts of stress.  Perhaps being the boss makes it more stressful and hence I cried a month earlier.  

Three months to go! I hope I survive; I hope I survive.
My business partner is out recovering from surgery for two weeks and possibly more… 
Elective surgery, of which she didn’t understand the surgeon that she would be laid up for so long, else she would have waited until after our busy season.  But alas, she did not know and I can’t and don’t fault her.  It’s just too hard sometimes. Like today.
At her request, I was packing up files and materials for her to use to work from home.  My old boss looks at the files, asks what I’m doing and upon learning declares “You can’t do that work? She doesn’t feel well!”  I gave him the dirtiest look I could muster without letting tears well and left it at that. 

I almost wished I could work out this belief in a god thing that I dropped so long ago. At least then I could go on “God won’t give me anything I can’t handle.” But without that… It’s me. And just me. And that’s all it’s really ever going to be.

And sometimes, just that thought alone is too much.
But as truth goes, it is best to face it sooner rather than later. So, I am facing it as soon as possible.

I decided last night before I couldn’t sleep (and before I got all angry at the world again) that I really need to start allocating ‘me’ time. And not just time sitting at the bar. Constructive time to focus.  So again, I find myself bringing my laptop to the bar. Sitting at a table putting in my headphones, drowning out the din and breathing.  So far it feels really good.  Tiring! as it usually is, hopefully that means I’m doing it right.

I am currently rocking out to Joannes Christian Bach’s pandora station.  And I really feel strongly that I need an art studio.  I have a ‘craft’ room, but I am really feeling that I want a studio.  Somewhere to blare Bach, somewhere without cat hair, somewhere to get paint on my pants and in my hair and maybe splashed on the walls a bit.  Somewhere with an easel. And a drawing bench. Somewhere with charcoal smears and the old scent of newsprint and chalk and oil.  Somewhere with lights to focus on a still life. Somewhere to be.

I think of my college art professor. I wish I knew her name. I wish I listened more to her.  She was trying her best to tell me to do this. To make this my thing.  To not go back to Oklahoma, but instead stay in her studio and become who I am supposed to be.  I have never realized this more than this moment. And god I don’t regret things but this… This breaks that threshold.  This is the defining “What-if” moment of my life. What if I had heard what she was saying back then.  Butterfly effect, yes, I wouldn’t be where I am now. I would have probably never been taken to this bar, but I’m sure my experiences had I taken that other path, had I really believed that path existed…  Not only may I have become the curator of a museum… But I may have had my own art hung, my art might’ve hung on someone else’s wall. Someone who didn’t love me because they knew me, were related to me, but because they believed what I did was beautiful and they saw themselves in my art. But alas, if ifs ands and buts were all candy and nuts…

It’s not her fault I didn’t hear her.  I was stuck looking for my heart in the wrong place (surprised?).  Perhaps I have just stumbled on where it is now.  Perhaps I finally have plans suited for my basement. Perhaps. 

Lincolns from Heaven.

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I found this penny, or rather I think this penny found me.  On a business trip to the other end of the state our dinner stop was but of course Chipotle.  As I walked with my bowl to the far end of the dining area I was not inspired by any of the unique seating arrangements there so I turned back and sat in a seemingly ordinary, ho-hum, wooden-benched booth.  And off to the inner-edge of the table, barely 2 inches from falling onto the seat, sits Lincoln.  Not shiny, not new. Just Lincoln. 1989 Lincoln.

Now we’ve all read before that Heaven drops pennies and this heart touching story or that one where a penny in an unsuspecting place means someone is just popping in to say “hello.”  So I took it as that. Let it warm my heart and smiled a bit.  When I get change from the grocer or what have you I sift out the pennies and as I’m walking out the store I toss them into the air and bid them good day with a wish.  A wish for me and a hope that whomever finds these pennies (or extra spare change as it sometimes is) will need it more than I.  And just maybe someone might pick up these Lincolns and think someone is remembering them and sending them a cheery “hello.”

So while this theory is lovely to believe in, I never really put all my chickens in that basket.  But back to Chipotle.  I saw the penny, I smiled, my heart warm, but I didn’t touch this dirty old penny.  I was going to leave it there for the next patron to smile and have their heart warmed.  But as I put on my jacket and sheath my cell in its denim pocket my back bent and arm extended and my fingers nimbly picked Lincoln up and stored him in my jeans for safe keeping.

Days passed, I may have felt him in there during the seminar, but I arrived home and emptied all my pockets and out pops Lincoln. I smiled (again). And the next day as I dressed I found myself putting him in my pocket yet again and he rode the day along with me.  Now at some point he must have fallen out of my pocket near my bed because I remember (still smiling) picking him up and chuckling to myself as if to say “there you are” as I placed Lincoln on my laptop–for safe keeping and such.

Now last night when I couldn’t sleep, I put on an iTunes playlist and closed the lid of my laptop enough to keep the blue light from invading my space but left it ajar so as not to turn the music off.  This morning before leaving for work I shut my computer all the way so as not to keep the motor running.  And I forgot all about Lincoln.  This evening I packed my laptop into its sleeve and off we went to the bar.  I finally settle into an agreeable seat and unpack. I open my laptop and Bam. Lincoln is smiling at me.

i don’t know what it is. I don’t even know if it’s anything. But gosh, it makes me feel good. And right now, I’ll take it.

Nothing.

Nothing seems to help very much.
I took a ride. It felt nice. The full moon made everything beautiful. But you can only drive so far. And you still can’t escape it.

He is always coming back into my mind.

Christmas is supposed to be fun, exciting, brimming with joy. And it seems every time I get a jolly elf I forget to hold him by the ear and he runs away.

I’d say in a week and a half it will be over. But it won’t. Christmas will end but the pain won’t. And New Year’s shortly follows.

It’s a shit time. And this year feels the shittiest.

Nothing even familiar is comforting anymore. Movies, decorating, shopping, drives, bars. All I have left to try is baking.

If that doesn’t work… Well let’s hope that works. Or I recommend getting stock in Trojan.

One. Big. Slap. in the face.

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Before you read the last post and continue to be as excited for me as I was… Stop. Just stop.  Rule #1 still applies.

I am basically speechless but I have to keep writing so the tears don’t keep falling.  He texted me today. And I tried to ignore the potential meaning behind “I had too many beers last night.”  But I was right.  He called me later. He doesn’t remember last night.  He doesn’t remember driving home.  He shouldn’t have done what he did. It was a mistake. It was fun but yada yada yada… I’m trying to work it out with her.

 

Just like I kept my cool in the grocery store I kept my cool on the phone. But I was numb. I was smart enough to get inside my house before I collapsed as I’d probably have frozen to death on my front lawn… Why was I outside when I took that call? Because he can’t find his wedding ring and asked if I’d check my car for it.

My body hurts. I’m so tired.  I can’t be home. I tried that. I just cry in one position then roll to a new spot on the floor and try to find comfort there. But there is none.  So I came here.  To just about the only place in the winter where I can find some sort of solace on a semi-regular basis.

I am here. Hurting. And failing at not crying in public.  I wish I had a do not disturb sign.  I really wish I had somewhere else to go.

One. Big. Happy.

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Holy shit. You’ll never believe it. Okay maybe you will, but I sure as shit wouldn’t.

We met up. Him-that’s capital H-i-m and I.  For a beer.  And after much talking and a slight glimmer in our eyes as we sauntered past only one innuendo…. He kissed me. HOLY SHIT! right? It’s not like I’ve never been kissed before… But after 4, almost 5 years I was really just super pleased to have a beer with him.  And he kissed me! Such a sweet kiss.  And we left, in a hurry–He was apparently “missing” so his soon-to-be-ex called the cops…But anyway we went outside it to the frigid weather and he pulled me in and we made out. Hard core. And he said sweet things and kissed me and it was fucking fantabulous.  He wasn’t quite sober. I was worried 1. about him driving and 2. about this being a drunken mistake that he would regret in the morning. So, after the first kiss outside I pulled away and said to him that he would regret this in the morning.  He said convincingly that he would not, and something to the effect that he has not regretted what we’ve done.  It make me feel slightly better, but the event that happened later—in the parking lot of the ski resort he followed me to (to help him get home somehow….) definitely helped convince me that he won’t regret this.  

So I’m not really sure what to make of this all.  We made out. I sucked his dick. Which was fabulous by the way, the sucking and the dick… Definitely bigger than I remember…  And sooo promising for our future sex life… Look at me. Being all optimistic and shit.

This is what I’ve been waiting for. And the only thing that can ruin it is what’s in the back of my mind that I was too afraid to ask him… I suppose I was afraid of the answer, or putting him on the spot and forcing him to lie.  I’m afraid that I will be the rebound girl. And eventually I will be left in the dust, meaning nothing to him.  But I put that in the back of my mind for a reason tonight.   I’ve waited 4 years for this, for him. And I wasn’t going to let silly bullshit and semantics stand in my way.  But… A menses will stand in your way… So we’re hopefully seeing each other in a few days… which will be filled with orgasmic sex-or so he’s promised… I can’t wait.

Is this the dream I’ve thought would never come? Or am I dreaming it now?  I don’t care. I’m going to enjoy it. And when my heart breaks in the end, I will have experience so much joy that it shall outweigh any pain from the heartbreak… Or so one can hope.  But really. If I’m ever going to get a chance this is totally it and I have to throw my all into it.  He’s here. I can’t let him slip away. 

 

He built her a fucking closet because she saw it on pinterest, he draws her a bath when she works long shifts… even AFTER she fucked his cousin in their house.  Seriously-what is wrong with this girl?  (Notice I’m not asking what am I not seeing about Him—I believe that he is a really good guy and does the right thing… I’ve pinned him as my knight in shining armor after all…)

I am happy.  He kissed me. Finally.

 

One big blow(s)

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One of the worst things about my situation…. When I have a shitty day, or a shitty thing happen to me, that’s it. It just happens to me. I have no one to call up and say “yo, you won’t believe this shit”. I wouldn’t really say that. Well maybe but odds are I’d saying something more like… Well I guess I don’t know what I’d say because I never actually get the chance to say it… I have no one with which to share my bad days. No one to just hold me when all else fails. It’s not something in my cards and I still work to accept it. But sometimes, in the moment of despair I think about it. About having someone who care. Someone who takes notice and takes care of me. And then I wake up and move on. It’s not in my cards. I better hurry up and accept that. Cuz this feeling blows.

Road blocks

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It is ever presenting difficulties.
Some familiar. Some that I’ve dealt with and forgot. Some new but obvious.
Difficulties all the same.

Tonight I forgot about the curse.
Tonight I was dancing.
I forgot about the curse and enjoyed dancing.
I did my best to ignore the stares. Well most of them.
Tonight I had fun.
Until.
Until I saw him dancing with her.
He had only just moments ago been dancing with me.
And I, platonically as I could, enjoyed it-As I was not about to throw myself at anyone, especially this dance slut.
And I was quite intimidated by his hat.
I saw him dancing and dancing and it was always with her.
I don’t know his name. I haven’t figured out his game. But he was still dancing with her.
And it came back to me. The curse. Of course. He’s dancing with her.
And I am here. Dancing. For myself. Though many watch me. I must continue to dance for myself.

Faking

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Tonight is a fake it till you make it kind of night. Ugh. Really!? Wtf happened to get me back here…

This wingman gig sucks. Yea I get to see my cousin, but I play DD, I listen to her relationship drama and try to cheer her up and be optimistic for her drunk ass. It’s who I am I guess.

But. It just sucks.

Especially on a night that is already predominately couples and one in which the same married man uses the same flirtatious efforts to tease me and yet keep me at bay.
Fuck your shit. I’m done.

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