A Field in Which to Frolic**

We could have
October 23, 2015, 11:00 pm
Filed under: Undisclosed

I was going through my friends on Facebook, deciding whom to move to a list (or remove altogether), and there you were. I haven’t seen you for years. Honestly, I can’t remember the last time I thought about you.

That’s refreshing. And encouraging.

When I looked upon your face, realized how little I knew you at all: not at all now, very little even then. It’s amazing how much perspective a little time gives. (Truth is, I was fucking crazy, and we were both so much the opposite of mature.)

I also found myself wondering how long it had been since you’d thought of me. Longer, I’m sure, for you than me.

We could have had a kid. Weird, right?

Good thing we didn’t. How different our lives would be. Or maybe not, who knows.

I hope your life makes you happy. I hope you’re doing exactly what you most want to do.

Maybe someday, we’ll run into each other again.

Until then, be well.


Get out of my dreams; get out of my heart.
October 7, 2015, 10:29 am
Filed under: Undisclosed

Forget you; I wish I could

It’s been over two years since we’ve seen each other, and in that time we’ve barely spoken at all. Yet, I dreamed of you all night last night and I woke with sickness in my stomach and an ache in my heart.

I dreamed I was doing my best to avoid you, but you found me. You stood there, silently asking me to stop running and hear you out. In your hand was the letter I sent; the one to which you couldn’t be bothered to respond. It turned out that it wasn’t that you didn’t want to respond, it was that you still hadn’t figured out what to say.

I dreamed she didn’t mean as much to you as it appears. That you missed me, and you still saw possibility for us. That you wanted to spend time with me, even when she was around.

Don’t let this give the impression that I believe any of that to be true. Knowing its non-validity is what makes the dream so awful. Why does some part of me cling to the hope that one day, things will be different? Why does that part of me still believe everything you said to me; everything I felt for you?

It’s time for an eviction notice

I don’t want to hold on to hope any longer. I don’t want to wish for something that will never be. You’ve taken up residency in my heart too long. I’d like that space to be clear for someone else. But at this point, it seems in there you’ll always live.

I wish I would have never met you. I wish I never would have known the intensity you stirred in me. You changed me. The possibility of anyone other than you is now exceedingly diminished. I could have been happier with less, had I never known such an extreme was possible.

There’s a part of me that hates you. I want to scream the things at you I’ll never get the chance to say. How dare you stir such feelings in me? How dare you open all of that up, then walk away as if none of it ever mattered; as if I never mattered? How is it so hard for me to forget you, when forgetting me came so easily for you?

Letting me believe – encouraging me to be believe – that you cared about me was a cruel thing to do. If you just wanted a little bit of fun, you should have been clear. Because now, thinking of you carrying my suitcase around the market so we could have a little more time, or wrangling everyone off of that windy rooftop and into the warmth of the bar because I alone was cold, hurts me in a way I can barely describe. It’s the same sickness and ache that I felt after waking from the latest dream. It’s the torturous mourning for what could have been, knowing that it will never be.

Since I can’t summon a crossroads demon…

I would give just about anything for things to be different between us. Being with you would be my genie’s wish, my demon’s deal, my blood-stained sip of wine. In the absence of any of those things, I’d take a visit from the Lacuna technicians. Let them take every last glimpse of you from me: your hands on my hips, the taste of your mouth, the feel of your breath on my neck. Rip from my mind your bullshit puzzle-piece analogy, your sad confession of what love means to you, and the significance of that god-damned Gasoline and Matches song. Please, take it all away.

I imagine that if you ever read this, you’d pity me for believing that it meant anything to you. “How sad,” you’d think, “that she made so much out of something so insignificant.” And I hate you for that. For living your life now as if nothing ever existed between us. For turning me into “just another girl,” when you’re transcendent to me. All I can hope is that one day indifference to the memory of you will find me, and I will finally let you go.

Why Do I Keep Getting Burned?
September 4, 2014, 1:27 pm
Filed under: Undisclosed

Sometimes, it’s so loud you can’t help but hear

Last week, whilst baking cookies, I briefly touched my arm to the just-out-of-the-oven cookie sheet. This is the third time this summer that I’ve burned myself in the same way, in pretty much the same place.

I immediately grabbed some honey and covered the burn. As I was doing so, this was my train of thought:

“Why do I keep letting myself get burned like this?”

“Well, at least each time it happens, I know better how to take care of myself.” (The first burn, I ignored and have a nasty scar. After the 2nd one, I did some research and discovered that manuka honey is a great burn treatment. The scar from that one is much less noticeable. This time, I knew exactly what to do.)

“Eventually, I’m going to learn not to let myself get burned like this.”

I paused after that thought, and it was like a lightning bolt in my brain.

“Touché, Universe.”

Cut to a couple days ago. I went to a movie with off-again-on-again-now-we’re-just-friends Nick, and of course, despite my new boundaries (see below), I wanted nothing more than to put my arms around him. Then, when he confessed that he felt like his life was completely hopeless and pointless, I was again overwhelmed with the desire to take care of him; to find any way possible to take his pain away and get him to realize that a good life is worth fighting for.

Of course, it’s that kind of thinking that has left me burned so many times with him in the past. He needs, I give. I need, he is too busy with his own shit to give me so much as a “how are you?” text message. Which is why I decided to make another attempt at boundaries. No more sexy time. No more sleepovers of any kind. No more me asking him to get together, because he’s flaky and non-committal. If he wants to see me, he can make it happen.

Listening is harder than it should be

After seeing him hurting, and him telling me how hopeless and withdrawn he feels, I find myself wanting to put my needs aside and just take care of him. So I cross one  of the boundaries I’d set, and ask him to spend some time with me. He has a few unexpected days off work, and I tell him we should take advantage of them. He says that sounds nice. And then about an hour before we’re supposed to meet up, he texts me to say “tonight won’t work. I’m sorry but we’ll get together soon.” And I’m reminded why I decided to stop making an effort. I let myself get burned by him, again.

I sent him a message in return, and have yet to hear from him the day after. I want to yell at him and tell him that makes me feel like shit. I want to tell him I’m fucking done and that unless he makes the effort, we won’t see or talk to each other.

At the same time, I don’t want him to feel abandoned when he most needs people, and I don’t want to add to the pile of shit that he’s got going on right now. (It’s a big pile.) But once again, I’m hurt and disappointed, and it’s my fault for expecting something that I should have known not to expect.

The problem is, despite his enormous emotional unavailability and unreliability, I love him. I want him in my life. So it’s not as easy as simply saying, “fuck this, I’m out.” I do not want him out of my life. I just want to release this intense attachment to him. I don’t want his presence or lack thereof to dictate my mood. I want to be okay with not seeing or hearing from him for weeks or months at a time. I want to be 100% okay with us honestly only being friends. And I have no idea how to get there.

Men, Women, Sex and Getting What You Want
January 14, 2012, 7:46 pm
Filed under: Undisclosed

Asking For It – Sex and Pleasure

Asking For It - Sex and PleasureI read an article today from the Elephant Journal that mentions the taboo of a woman telling a man he fails to sexually satisfy her. In the article is this quote:

“There is undeniable pressure on men to “perform” sexually, for example. I try to have sympathy for men who feel this pressure — but it is difficult sometimes, because its major effect on my life has been to silence me. To make me feel as though I couldn’t ask for anything sexually. As though I couldn’t express my needs without hurting my boyfriend’s feelings or making him angry.”

I found this incredibly interesting, because I have recently been faced with a similar dilemma. I’ve never been too forward in asking for something specific when in a sexual situation with a man. But that doesn’t mean I’m silent. I’ve never felt that my requests or feedback were hurtful; in fact in my experience men appreciate knowing how they can improve their tactics.

Who Cares What You Want?

However, the last man I shared a bed with was a little different.  When we first started having sex, he was attentive, and wanted to know I enjoyed myself. But that didn’t last long. A few months into it, it really became all about him. He told me how to do what he wanted me to do, in order for his pleasure, and his pleasure alone. Because I have the tendency to get pathetic about the men with whom I’m involved, I didn’t let him know that this bothered me.  The only feedback I ever gave was if anything hurt; which was somewhat frequent due to his prodigious endowment.

When I would tell him something hurt, he usually responded with a shift in positions or a change in pace.  But one particularly rowdy night, his desire for pleasure greatly overpowered his concern for me.  Not only was I getting nothing out of what he was doing, what he was doing was causing considerable pain.  When I told him this, his only response was to tell me, “you’ll get used to it.”  Believe it or not, this was not the last night we spent together.

Sex – The Real Story of a Relationship

I’d like to say that I stood up for myself and told this guy that the way he treated me that night was beyond unacceptable. But no, I actually tried to perpetuate this relationship. Ironically, it ended a few weeks later because I wanted more than he wanted to give. I guess the sex life of two people gives great insight to the rest of the relationship.

Back to the article in the Elephant Journal. While addressing a woman’s tendency to not speak up when she’s not finding pleasure in the sex she’s having, it does not place the blame on the man. It says as women, we must take responsibility for our own pleasure.  And I agree. I realized this that night with Mr. Sensitivity. But I didn’t have the strength, or self-respect, or whatever I require in order to stand up for myself like that.  I am so fucking pathetic when it comes to men that I throw all my wants, needs, and self-worth right out the window, and I have no idea what to do about that.

Fall in love. It’s so easy
October 19, 2011, 10:23 pm
Filed under: Undisclosed

Love Hurts?

I somehow managed to stumble upon this today:

“There are people like me that NEED to love, welcomed or not, to remind us that we are human. It’s painful yes, but sometimes we just can’t help it.”

It rang startlingly true for me

love hurts - you love - a field in which to frolic

The truth is, I fall for people very quickly, and very easily. In comparison to the majority of people I know, it’s disturbing. In fact, I’m starting to think that perhaps I’m somehow psychologically damaged. Why else would a person cause herself so much pain, and on a repeated basis?

It’s not that I am IN love with these guys that I fall for; I simply find it very easy to love people.  Couple that with my desire for real, actual love, and it’s so easy to get carried away.

Love, In Real Life

It’s interesting to have the perspective I have today.  A lot has happened in a relatively short span of time.  It began with the loss of my oldest and closest friend, along with a dude that I was way into. In retrospect, that guy was simply the catalyst for the best life-change I could have ever made, but that realization came slowly and painfully.

Almost exactly at that time, I met FD. I was super hesitant in the beginning, thanks to my exacerbated trust issues.  Then, of course, I fell for him. I thought we fit so well, and he made me feel so good.  What I didn’t realize at the time was that, for him, I was pure entertainment. That was not a good feeling.

As I was doing my best to get over FD, I met MC.  At the time, I told myself MC was the perfect distraction from FD. He came from a land far, far away, he was totally unattainable, and he was a whole lot of fun.  He was the perfect distraction. He popped into my life, then popped out of it, and I went back to half-hoping FD would call.

you love - love hurts - a field in which to frolicSoon thereafter, MC asked if he could pop back into my life.  It would only be for a couple of days, while we happened to be in the same place at the same time. Of course I obliged.  And then I got my world rocked.

We had what was the absolute best date of my life. Granted, I hadn’t known a lot of nice guys up to that point, but I had been wined and dined a few times.  Nonetheless it was a magical encounter, despite its brevity.  Or maybe because of it; I’ll probably never know.

But of course, he had to go back from whence he came, and back to whom he belonged.

He keeps popping back up, so of course, he’s been impossible to let go.  This is absolutely the hardest I’ve ever fallen. Not that I believe I’m in love with him, but I do believe there is an overwhelming amount of potential.  He, however, has made a different choice.

Distractions, Distractions

Recently, I made an attempt at a distraction from the distraction.  It hasn’t turned out nearly as badly, but again, I find myself caring way more than I wanted or expected to.  And this guy wandered into my life with a fucking danger sign tattooed on his forehead.  Somehow, I failed to proceed with caution.

In the beginning, I simply want to show this guy compassion, and that he deserved to be treated well.  I told myself that no matter how indifferent he was to me, I would continue to be open and giving to him.  And in doing this, I of course came to seriously care for him.  I wanted him to be happy;  to know he mattered to me. Of course, just because you give that to a person doesn’t mean you’re going to get it back.  Not that I ever expected it. But just because you know not to expect something doesn’t make it any easier to keep from wanting it.

So now I find myself in a familiar frame of mind. Do I retreat from all the heartache, or do I continue to hope that next time, it will be different? That next time, I will get back what I give?

I know the answer to that, I’m just not ready to own it quite yet.