Today was a hard day. Yet another emotional hurdle in a season of relative tumult.
I was late, not because I was overbooked like usual, nor simply being flaky. I was late because I was scared. If kk (lil sis) hadn't needed me, it would have been very easy to blow off entirely. I thought everyone in the family hated me. Like I said to kk yesterday when she asked if I was coming, "well. If it's about respect for Grandpa, then of course, no question. But if it's just about supporting the living, well... [step-grandma] probably won't come to my wedding, and you'll forgive me."
She talked me into going anyway. I didn't want to. I didn't want to see my father. I didn't want to miss my grandfather. I didn't want to see any of the aunts and uncles that I haven't seen since I was five.
--
I was pleasantly surprised.
Not at first. My father sat behind my siblings when I got there, and kk motioned me to sit by her. He kept whispering in our ears. I wanted to flip him off. Once I turned full around to glare at him.
He was nevertheless surprisingly civil, actually.
Afterwards, I spent some time with my aunt and uncle at the local ice cream joint that Grandpa had taken all of us to, all of our lives. We traded numbers...
sigh. I started this entry earlier today, but now I don't want to finish it. Maybe I'll write more tomorrow for funeral part 2.
--
Mel left today. I don't know how I feel about it yet. Other than that I'm disappointed, of course.
--
It was kinduv a rough weekend. Yesterday I was so miserable I couldn't skate. Today I was so scared of facing my "family" I sat in the car and needed kk to beg me to come in. Tonight the woman I love left me.
I feel surprisingly... mellow about all of this. I suppose that, good or bad, my ability to deal with dire circumstances -- crisis -- is pretty remarkable. It is probably a function of being abused and neglected for so long.
It also makes me a little worried. I wonder how much I'll need to act out in the next week or two. Heh.
--
You know what? A little part of me is excited to put all of this behind me and get back to work. I'm worried about all of the stresses of life... houses in foreclosure, vacancies, dodgy new hires, stupid cash flow problems, partners without solidarity, stupid brother shit, bleah bleah bleah.
But not that much. Somebody said today that my grandfather used to say, "whatever the problem, just start chipping away at it, and it'll usually work out."
He's right. I've said as much... when you're stressed out, make a list and start working it. I'm pretty sure my other blog has a version of this in it a dozen times.
Being treated like poo by a girl kinda fucks with your head sometimes, I guess. Sigh.
I'm not sure if I should've "known better". I'm not sure I regret anything. Part of me wants to fall back on that, of course, but... it did feel really good. It felt dramatic and chaotic and unhealthy.
And it was human. It made me feel alive. It made me feel hopeful, optimistic, and joyous. It even made me have faith. Not a lot. But some.
I guess I'd give just about anything to taste that... even if it hurts.
--
I guess, oddly, I don't feel abandoned. Usually I do.
I'm not sure why.
That's probably why I'm not angry.
Yet.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Saturday, July 10, 2010
She called me by his name
I'm so mad I can't even comprehend it.
She was over tonight and professed her devotion, love, and commitment to a future together.
And then I drove her to her car, where she called me by her husband's name, and I sped away, so angry I couldn't speak.
I called and she asked me to let the good night we'd had stay positive.
I tried. But I couldn't. I did at first, saying good night, but then I called back.
She was already home, already offline, already a spineless, indecisive... whatever she is.
And I felt stupid. I feel stupid. I am stupid.
And angry.
I want to break up with her again. I want to call him on his phone and tell him how her pussy feels when she tells me she loves me. I want to...
Sigh.
Cry. I just want to cry.
This is fucking ridiculous.
She was over tonight and professed her devotion, love, and commitment to a future together.
And then I drove her to her car, where she called me by her husband's name, and I sped away, so angry I couldn't speak.
I called and she asked me to let the good night we'd had stay positive.
I tried. But I couldn't. I did at first, saying good night, but then I called back.
She was already home, already offline, already a spineless, indecisive... whatever she is.
And I felt stupid. I feel stupid. I am stupid.
And angry.
I want to break up with her again. I want to call him on his phone and tell him how her pussy feels when she tells me she loves me. I want to...
Sigh.
Cry. I just want to cry.
This is fucking ridiculous.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
crying alone
Woke up crying. Don't remember specifics.
Turned on my "good night" playlist. U2 just made me feel like no one understands instead of reminding brotherhood. Freefallin reminded me that mel isn't here. Coldplay just hurt. Adele made me miss kait and 2008 and college and simpler times.
Regina made me feel lonely. Colin hay reminded me that no matter how much I cry, no one ever hears, no ever understands, and through it all, I'm just considered an asshole.
Well fuck you. Fuck you all. Take ur judgment, take ur mothers, take ur own selfish pain, take ur worries, take ur dismissal, and shove it.
I hate you. Until you've walked a day... Just one fucking day you goddamn self centered shortsighted whores! -- in my shoes, you take your bureaucracies, your corporate numbers, your cash flow problems, your unemployment checks, your state paychecks, your 8-5s, your debts, your bonus plans, your flakey internet connections, your security concerns, your indecision to sign, your concerns over HER fucking heart, your jealousy, your bad days, and your quid pro quo, and you ask yourself if you can sleep at night.
You ask yourself if you really need to pile your petty little needs upon atlas. You ask yourself if you need to judge someone.
You ask yourself if I give a flying fuck if you think I'm an asshole b/c your left nut can't talk to your right nut and I talk down to your whole goddamn cock b/c it is not my fucking problem.
You ask yourself if I have a payroll of my own to meet. You ask yourself if I can tell you and your mom to suck a dick and still go get a corporate job making triple what your whole sorry little license payment amounts to by myself.
You ask yourself if you get to go home to a warm bed and loving vagina that doesn't cheat on you, then wonder if I do.
You ask if anyone loves me. You ask if you're lucky, if maybe I could use a goddamn thank you instead of a another demand. You ask if I'll be an alcoholic too one day not b/c I'm genetically predisposed, but b/c it's better than fucking dying.
You ask god to look out for me, maybe, instead of preaching about hellfire. If he's so fucking loving maybe he could carry me now. Prick.
You ask yourself when the last time you really bawled was. Cry your eyes out, lonely and miserable, shut the fuck up because the neighbors may hear bawling.
Then ask if you can hear me. Ask if god can. Ask if anyone can.
I pick up pieces for the whole world. I reassure when I need more than anybody. I provide security when I can't even sleep. I have compassion when I need to be selfish more than ever.
So fuck you and your petty needs. Fuck your judgment of me. Fuck cockiness and assholes and selfishness and condescension.
I am the most generous guy you've ever known. Why don't you make the world a better place and fucking notice.
--
I'm not done crying yet.
You're supposed to be here! If you can't be here at my lowest point, when will you ever be?
Talk about needing you now.
Turned on my "good night" playlist. U2 just made me feel like no one understands instead of reminding brotherhood. Freefallin reminded me that mel isn't here. Coldplay just hurt. Adele made me miss kait and 2008 and college and simpler times.
Regina made me feel lonely. Colin hay reminded me that no matter how much I cry, no one ever hears, no ever understands, and through it all, I'm just considered an asshole.
Well fuck you. Fuck you all. Take ur judgment, take ur mothers, take ur own selfish pain, take ur worries, take ur dismissal, and shove it.
I hate you. Until you've walked a day... Just one fucking day you goddamn self centered shortsighted whores! -- in my shoes, you take your bureaucracies, your corporate numbers, your cash flow problems, your unemployment checks, your state paychecks, your 8-5s, your debts, your bonus plans, your flakey internet connections, your security concerns, your indecision to sign, your concerns over HER fucking heart, your jealousy, your bad days, and your quid pro quo, and you ask yourself if you can sleep at night.
You ask yourself if you really need to pile your petty little needs upon atlas. You ask yourself if you need to judge someone.
You ask yourself if I give a flying fuck if you think I'm an asshole b/c your left nut can't talk to your right nut and I talk down to your whole goddamn cock b/c it is not my fucking problem.
You ask yourself if I have a payroll of my own to meet. You ask yourself if I can tell you and your mom to suck a dick and still go get a corporate job making triple what your whole sorry little license payment amounts to by myself.
You ask yourself if you get to go home to a warm bed and loving vagina that doesn't cheat on you, then wonder if I do.
You ask if anyone loves me. You ask if you're lucky, if maybe I could use a goddamn thank you instead of a another demand. You ask if I'll be an alcoholic too one day not b/c I'm genetically predisposed, but b/c it's better than fucking dying.
You ask god to look out for me, maybe, instead of preaching about hellfire. If he's so fucking loving maybe he could carry me now. Prick.
You ask yourself when the last time you really bawled was. Cry your eyes out, lonely and miserable, shut the fuck up because the neighbors may hear bawling.
Then ask if you can hear me. Ask if god can. Ask if anyone can.
I pick up pieces for the whole world. I reassure when I need more than anybody. I provide security when I can't even sleep. I have compassion when I need to be selfish more than ever.
So fuck you and your petty needs. Fuck your judgment of me. Fuck cockiness and assholes and selfishness and condescension.
I am the most generous guy you've ever known. Why don't you make the world a better place and fucking notice.
--
I'm not done crying yet.
You're supposed to be here! If you can't be here at my lowest point, when will you ever be?
Talk about needing you now.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
unfaithful
The diane lane/ richard gere movie just concluded. It was so much more compelling than I remembered.
In the movie, richard gere kills the "other man" in a fit of rage. With a snow globe, naturally, because it is such an obvious choice for a murder weapon - even if a crime of passion.
I remember watching it years ago and only feeling his anger. "I didn't want to kill him. I wanted to kill YOU!"
Today I saw him and was sympathetic, even as I realized he was an insane murderer. Even as I didn't want to be sympathetic at all.
I'm the other man.
Well. Life sure isn't boring, now is it? Humph.
--
Today's horoscope recommended planning a getaway with someone who "might question whether you value them as you once did."
I wonder if she read that and thought of me. The reverse was true.
--
(Blogged entirely from my bberry! Try that, iphone!)
In the movie, richard gere kills the "other man" in a fit of rage. With a snow globe, naturally, because it is such an obvious choice for a murder weapon - even if a crime of passion.
I remember watching it years ago and only feeling his anger. "I didn't want to kill him. I wanted to kill YOU!"
Today I saw him and was sympathetic, even as I realized he was an insane murderer. Even as I didn't want to be sympathetic at all.
I'm the other man.
Well. Life sure isn't boring, now is it? Humph.
--
Today's horoscope recommended planning a getaway with someone who "might question whether you value them as you once did."
I wonder if she read that and thought of me. The reverse was true.
--
(Blogged entirely from my bberry! Try that, iphone!)
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Distant Sundays and Lonely Holidays
Another Saturday came and went in relative routine. Sleep in a little, get some breakfast, work a few hours, get a workout in, have a couple of drinks with S, my friend of 20 years.
He doesn't know the whole truth about Mel. He thinks she just shares a lease with an ex. He doesn't know that she's married, that I'm truly second string, that her calls from the car when she dashes to the grocery store for 20 minutes on Saturday evening simultaneously tear me apart and make me angry. He doesn't know that he's actually not an ex, not at all, not even close.
And still he shakes his head. Still he asks what I'm thinking, begs me to tell him how I think this could ever work out. "She could fix it, dude. If what she says about how she feels about you is true, it's really not that hard."
He sprinkles this in between his overarching recommendation that I just kick it to the curb. Of course, to him this is a "statement". i.e., Mel has baggage, this ain't cool, so until she fixes it, just play more basketball.
I'm pretty sure I'd make the same recommendation if I were in his shoes. Either that, or "don't invest in her emotionally", which, I guess, is the same thing, just injected with over a decade of learning how to play the dating game.
I almost told him. I almost said "it's complicated" and proceeded to tell him why. But there's judgment buried in there -- of her, of me, of any future we'd have together -- and I decided, prudently I believe, to hold my tongue.
I kept wanting to say "But I love her." But I didn't.
I just let him talk as we were doing wood choppers (it's a cable exercise at the gym), finally sighing in that "I don't really want to talk about this anymore" manner and said, "Dude, I'm really not happy about it. The whole thing is really hard for me."
And he stopped lecturing. He just said "I know," nodding, and looked me square in the face with compassionate resignation.
It was a solid bromance moment.
--
A part of me wanted to regurgitate what she says -- about divorce and marriage and all that jazz being hard. Like maybe, because he's married, he'd agree with her.
But I don't think he would. I think he'd just reiterate to me, ever more invigorated, his advice to GTFO. After another rant on being a home wrecker, the sanctity of marriage, and the horrors of cheating.
But I still love her. As hard as it is.
--
Sigh. That boundary thing again. I really hate not being able to sleep. Especially because of a girl.
I'm single on the weekends. Maybe I should act like it. Perhaps I should stop taking her calls on the weekend.
It's not like I would go out on a date with a new chick and then try to make some excuse so I could go call Mel. "Hey, I need to make a quick call, will you excuse me?"
LOL. Actually, I did that once, I think. It was that first week, on Monday. May 17. I had a date, and Mel called, and I totally dis'd my date for 10 minutes to go outside and talk to her. It was before any of this, back when it could've been just a fleeting crush that she never acted on.
And I didn't tell my date, of course. But then, I never called her again, either. And if she had pursued, I'd have told her the truth. "(our date was great, you're awesome, etc.). I'm sorry for the terrible timing, but I'm in love with someone else."
Funny story? I'm pretty sure her name was Amanda. Maybe it is some form of cosmic poetry that I never went out with her again. First love remains special. Amanda retains her own unique montage in my mind's eye.
Sigh. I dunno. It's all fine and dandy to think about compartmentalizing my heart and soul, but it's quite a different matter in real world practice.
--
We reconnected on Friday in a way that I haven't felt since the ballpark. It wasn't quite the same... not completely open and free like it was when she was sleeping over and I was starting point guard. But almost. That's the nature of reconnecting... it takes a little time to really get there.
The difference? We actually had time. She wasn't in a hurry to get "home" and we had time to just hang out. To just "be".
Imagine that. Sheesh.
She said she thought the distance was coming from me. That I've been pulling away.
It makes me want to scream at her when I think about that. Not in a negative or harsh way, but in a "that's the silliest thing I've ever heard" sorta way.
Yes, I'm pulling away. Duh. LOL.
I guess what makes me want to scream is that I feel that everything I've done is reactionary. It's not like I woke up one morning, looked over at her, and thought to myself, "I really need to distance myself from this gorgeous woman in my bed who loves me."
(more laughter)
I think it's pretty normal to feel a bit alienated when you go from starting point to playing the last two minutes in the fourth quarter, but only if there's a 20 point difference. Heh.
She admitted that she doubts me a lot. That there are often days when she feels like she could live without me. As if I didn't know that. As if I'm not picking up on the look on her face (or lack of it), the demonstrable changes in behavior and attitude, or the growing absence of forward-looking statements.
She used to talk about kitchenware, chandeliers, and what Christmas together will be like. Now she says "I need to call (husband)." and walks 30 feet away for 10 minutes while I wait painfully.
I'm not a therapist or a psychologist. I've never had a relationship longer than a year that wasn't plagued by constant fighting or a cheating slutbag. And despite my yearning for acceptance and relentless persistence on the Cosmo "perfect man" checklist, I'm a pretty self-centered prick that generally assumes it's not my fault when relationships don't work out. I'm nevertheless pretty sure that her behavior shift counts as distance.
And you know what? It doesn't piss me off nearly as much as it should. It is the Faustian bargain I've agreed to, so part of me is mentally prepared.
Her assignment of that distance to me, though, is pretty damn surprising.
--
I suppose all of this is just mental masturbation. I'm not really processing anything, I'm not experiencing catharsis, and I'm not making any sort of statement.
I'm still in. That distance that has arisen is unfortunate, but unavoidable under the circumstances. It is my subconscious pulling away because it hurts so much. Like I said before, compartmentalizing the heart isn't easy.
I still miss her. I still hurt a little every day and a lot on Sundays. But again with the mental masturbating.
To her, I would say that the distance is yours to control. That is the power I've given you, so you cannot look to external sources (i.e., me) for the cause.
To S., I would say that I appreciate your input. I'm ignoring it.
To myself, I would suggest that you think of yourself as single on days when she isn't your girl. And just like trying to go out when your heart is breaking, nothing will come of it, but the acknowledgement is prudent.
--
Going out when your heart is breaking.
There's been a lot of times when I've gone out with the boys and disappeared ten minutes after paying a cover to walk into a club. Turns out when your heart is breaking, your world has collapsed, and all you want to do is cry, a drink and some pretty girls don't help at all.
You just end up in the car, $20 less rich, wasting gas on your heater, playing songs like this.
And while I'm posting videos and thinking about Sunday: "You think that you can do without me. I can't do anything at alllllll. You think that you can do without me. Well I don't believe in Sundays... I don't believe in anything at all."
Humph. I'm surprised this one didn't show up in my breakup song list. Adam has a knack for saying exactly what I feel better than I can myself sometimes... maybe it's too complex. Maybe I save the Counting Crows for my own therapy. :-)
He doesn't know the whole truth about Mel. He thinks she just shares a lease with an ex. He doesn't know that she's married, that I'm truly second string, that her calls from the car when she dashes to the grocery store for 20 minutes on Saturday evening simultaneously tear me apart and make me angry. He doesn't know that he's actually not an ex, not at all, not even close.
And still he shakes his head. Still he asks what I'm thinking, begs me to tell him how I think this could ever work out. "She could fix it, dude. If what she says about how she feels about you is true, it's really not that hard."
He sprinkles this in between his overarching recommendation that I just kick it to the curb. Of course, to him this is a "statement". i.e., Mel has baggage, this ain't cool, so until she fixes it, just play more basketball.
I'm pretty sure I'd make the same recommendation if I were in his shoes. Either that, or "don't invest in her emotionally", which, I guess, is the same thing, just injected with over a decade of learning how to play the dating game.
I almost told him. I almost said "it's complicated" and proceeded to tell him why. But there's judgment buried in there -- of her, of me, of any future we'd have together -- and I decided, prudently I believe, to hold my tongue.
I kept wanting to say "But I love her." But I didn't.
I just let him talk as we were doing wood choppers (it's a cable exercise at the gym), finally sighing in that "I don't really want to talk about this anymore" manner and said, "Dude, I'm really not happy about it. The whole thing is really hard for me."
And he stopped lecturing. He just said "I know," nodding, and looked me square in the face with compassionate resignation.
It was a solid bromance moment.
--
A part of me wanted to regurgitate what she says -- about divorce and marriage and all that jazz being hard. Like maybe, because he's married, he'd agree with her.
But I don't think he would. I think he'd just reiterate to me, ever more invigorated, his advice to GTFO. After another rant on being a home wrecker, the sanctity of marriage, and the horrors of cheating.
But I still love her. As hard as it is.
--
Sigh. That boundary thing again. I really hate not being able to sleep. Especially because of a girl.
I'm single on the weekends. Maybe I should act like it. Perhaps I should stop taking her calls on the weekend.
It's not like I would go out on a date with a new chick and then try to make some excuse so I could go call Mel. "Hey, I need to make a quick call, will you excuse me?"
LOL. Actually, I did that once, I think. It was that first week, on Monday. May 17. I had a date, and Mel called, and I totally dis'd my date for 10 minutes to go outside and talk to her. It was before any of this, back when it could've been just a fleeting crush that she never acted on.
And I didn't tell my date, of course. But then, I never called her again, either. And if she had pursued, I'd have told her the truth. "(our date was great, you're awesome, etc.). I'm sorry for the terrible timing, but I'm in love with someone else."
Funny story? I'm pretty sure her name was Amanda. Maybe it is some form of cosmic poetry that I never went out with her again. First love remains special. Amanda retains her own unique montage in my mind's eye.
Sigh. I dunno. It's all fine and dandy to think about compartmentalizing my heart and soul, but it's quite a different matter in real world practice.
--
We reconnected on Friday in a way that I haven't felt since the ballpark. It wasn't quite the same... not completely open and free like it was when she was sleeping over and I was starting point guard. But almost. That's the nature of reconnecting... it takes a little time to really get there.
The difference? We actually had time. She wasn't in a hurry to get "home" and we had time to just hang out. To just "be".
Imagine that. Sheesh.
She said she thought the distance was coming from me. That I've been pulling away.
It makes me want to scream at her when I think about that. Not in a negative or harsh way, but in a "that's the silliest thing I've ever heard" sorta way.
Yes, I'm pulling away. Duh. LOL.
I guess what makes me want to scream is that I feel that everything I've done is reactionary. It's not like I woke up one morning, looked over at her, and thought to myself, "I really need to distance myself from this gorgeous woman in my bed who loves me."
(more laughter)
I think it's pretty normal to feel a bit alienated when you go from starting point to playing the last two minutes in the fourth quarter, but only if there's a 20 point difference. Heh.
She admitted that she doubts me a lot. That there are often days when she feels like she could live without me. As if I didn't know that. As if I'm not picking up on the look on her face (or lack of it), the demonstrable changes in behavior and attitude, or the growing absence of forward-looking statements.
She used to talk about kitchenware, chandeliers, and what Christmas together will be like. Now she says "I need to call (husband)." and walks 30 feet away for 10 minutes while I wait painfully.
I'm not a therapist or a psychologist. I've never had a relationship longer than a year that wasn't plagued by constant fighting or a cheating slutbag. And despite my yearning for acceptance and relentless persistence on the Cosmo "perfect man" checklist, I'm a pretty self-centered prick that generally assumes it's not my fault when relationships don't work out. I'm nevertheless pretty sure that her behavior shift counts as distance.
And you know what? It doesn't piss me off nearly as much as it should. It is the Faustian bargain I've agreed to, so part of me is mentally prepared.
Her assignment of that distance to me, though, is pretty damn surprising.
--
I suppose all of this is just mental masturbation. I'm not really processing anything, I'm not experiencing catharsis, and I'm not making any sort of statement.
I'm still in. That distance that has arisen is unfortunate, but unavoidable under the circumstances. It is my subconscious pulling away because it hurts so much. Like I said before, compartmentalizing the heart isn't easy.
I still miss her. I still hurt a little every day and a lot on Sundays. But again with the mental masturbating.
To her, I would say that the distance is yours to control. That is the power I've given you, so you cannot look to external sources (i.e., me) for the cause.
To S., I would say that I appreciate your input. I'm ignoring it.
To myself, I would suggest that you think of yourself as single on days when she isn't your girl. And just like trying to go out when your heart is breaking, nothing will come of it, but the acknowledgement is prudent.
--
Going out when your heart is breaking.
There's been a lot of times when I've gone out with the boys and disappeared ten minutes after paying a cover to walk into a club. Turns out when your heart is breaking, your world has collapsed, and all you want to do is cry, a drink and some pretty girls don't help at all.
You just end up in the car, $20 less rich, wasting gas on your heater, playing songs like this.
And while I'm posting videos and thinking about Sunday: "You think that you can do without me. I can't do anything at alllllll. You think that you can do without me. Well I don't believe in Sundays... I don't believe in anything at all."
Humph. I'm surprised this one didn't show up in my breakup song list. Adam has a knack for saying exactly what I feel better than I can myself sometimes... maybe it's too complex. Maybe I save the Counting Crows for my own therapy. :-)
Friday, July 2, 2010
We got back "together"
I talked to her on Sunday. She came over Monday.
I told her, "You think that I'm not there for you, that I won't be. You think that I don't really have your back. But I do. You question how I feel about you.
"So I'm gonna show you. It doesn't matter that you're indecisive.
"You get to have me on your terms. And I'll adjust my expectations accordingly."
I didn't say "if you fuck him, I get to fuck other chicks", but it was part of the deal in my head. But she assured me she isn't. And I believe her.
So, basically, I can have a live-in GF/wife, I just can't fuck her! LOL. And I'm all hers twice a week when holidays, my travel, and, you know, pretty much anything else under the sun that doesn't really make sense in a "normal" relationship gets in the way. I suppose this does mean I get to date other women, though. I just can't do any more than hug them. Or, you know, sleep in my bed, as long as we keep on some minimal PJs and don't cuddle much. Hot damn... Perfectly healthy, perfectly normal. Heh.
But I love her, so it doesn't matter.
It's still hard. Sometimes, like every weekend, like late at night like this, like when I wake up reaching for her at 2am, it's abso-fucking-lutely miserable.
But if it is what she needs, than I'll do it.
--
Actually, I'm not miserable right now. I had two pretty young ladies stare with mouths open recently. Sigh. One was at basketball today. Yeah, right, I know, she's like a giant oaf of a six-footer, a friggin' basketball center on a NCAA team, but what the heck. It still felt nice. She was pretty, too... just way too tall and way too young.
And, you know, not Mel.
Oh, and she basically weighed as much as me. According to her, I have an inch and 8 pounds on her. I joke about being gay and all, but it'd be like dating a man with tits and a vagina. Not exactly my version of Aphrodite. 5'4" and tossable around the room is more my cup of tea.
Still, it felt nice. I won't remember her name tomorrow and it was a fleeting moment of approval, but a reminder that there are options is... well. A sanity check at worst. And simply complimentary at best.
(The other was at a client site last week... but I interacted with her just long enough to shake her hand. Also far too young. Plus she's probably the client's daughter or niece or something. I'd run from that even completely single and on a dry spell.)
--
She says she wants choice. That him divorcing her isn't her choice, so she has to do his bidding until she chooses otherwise.
A little part of me thinks that I'm being a fool. That she'll leave me, sooner or later, and go back to the familiar. The "unconditional".
Except that if it were unconditional, you know, you could tell him you love/fuck/want/adore/need me and his love would endure.
Sigh. I suppose that's not really fair. Love can exist even as boundaries are enforced. I am more distant, now, even as I've committed to loving her in spite of her indecision and my admittedly pathetic second string status. I suppose, even though it's not really a conscious decision, that is a function of my own boundary setting. And him divorcing her because of me... well. I'd would be lying if I said I didn't blame the guy, or that I'd act differently.
And I'd still love her. It's just a boundary. An act of self-protection, of self-preservation.
And so I am alone every night. Because I understand.
This is forcing me to be a very big man. Forcing me to have compassion where I want to scream. Forcing me to see the pain in the soul of my enemy. Forcing me to be a better person when I want to cheat the system to get the girl.
I still don't think it's fair, of course. But again... I love her.
--
The reality is, of course, that it probably will be all for naught. She may yet love me forever.
But.
There's always a but.
If it turns out that way, I wonder what the speech will be like. It better be a good one. Heh.
--
Today I am grateful for good health. My shot felt good today, my shoulder felt tender but not injured like it has for over a year, my right arm's follow through felt unencumbered, and I performed almost as well as I did back in college. Back before running a startup.
I am grateful that despite the dozen grey hairs that are now undeniably present and the crow's feet that are not gone after ten hours of sleep, I can still pull undergrads based on my looks alone. And maybe a game-winning 25-footer. But then, that's just a function of being "in flow"... happy, healthy, balanced, focused. Pick any two and add a solid night's sleep. ;-)
Today I learned that love is really, really hard sometimes. I suppose I've been learning this my whole life, but the realization that "when you love somebody, you have to love all of them" is an epiphany that seems very fresh indeed. I'm still not sure I really understand all its implications, in fact.
--
She is at least as arrogant as me sometimes. I rather like it, actually. It's over the top, repetitive, vociferous, and almost obnoxious. I dare say it is more over the top than me. I know. Seriously.
Mostly, though, it just made me want to fuck her dirrrrty. Restraints, bruising bite marks, and difficulty walking kinda dirty. I found it neither annoying nor obnoxious. I just wanted to shut her up by...
Ahem.
(She had a really good month. Sales chick and all.)
--
I suppose you could say I'm not moping today. There's that, at least.
--
Alright. Let the therapy continue.
So if, when you love someone, you have to love all of them, what does that say about Mom? Or brother?
Do I simply not love them?
(ponders at length)
I guess, actually, I don't.
Gulp.
I appreciate my mother for being hardworking, for making sure there was food in the house and cooking dinner every night, even if we often didn't eat together and almost never as a family.
I appreciate her for making sure I had at least two new pairs of jeans to wear every school year, patching the holes when they came, and doing laundry 4 days a week so they were always clean.
I appreciate her for bailing me out of jail in 2000 when that crazy ticket from the 90s turned into a warrant. Heh. 8 employees, a millionaire on paper, and driving a 5 series... and I had to call my welfare mom to bail me out of jail because some dumb chick totaled my car in 1997 and I walked away from it. "Leaving the scene" they called it. The misdemeanor, no-fault version of "hit and run". Life can be quite humbling at times.
I'm not sure that appreciation is the same as love, though. In fact, I'm pretty damn sure it isn't. I appreciate the friggin' janitor dude at the gym, but I don't even know his name.
And there it is. My mother doesn't love me. And I don't love her back.
That was remarkably easy to write. I'm not teary or anything.
Weird. I feel like this should make me sad, but it doesn't. It is, actually, rather matter-of-fact. Almost nonchalant.
I wonder if that makes me a cold or disconnected person. I think that it might appear that way at a distance, but I don't think it does.
Actually, I think it makes me... mature. It is perhaps, even, evidence of a form of wisdom.
I'm still not sure I'm completely ok with it. She is my mother, after all.
--
Of my brother, I feel very little appreciation. I don't hate him, but I definitely don't like him. He is not a particularly wise, kind, nor even pleasant person.
I do want him to do well and be successful. I don't want anything to do with him.
I'm not sure yet if that means I don't love him.
--
Lil Sis told me today, "I think you're a lot of people's savior."
We were talking about mom stuff, about how she provided a place of refuge for her and Bro, but that in my case, I ended up saving her. She came to stay with me when she came of age (enough to leave dear old dad), not vice-versa.
It struck me as odd; still does.
It also made me really proud of myself. I felt -- feel -- like that means I've made a difference for the better. That I've affected the people I've touched, overall, in a positive way.
That thought makes me very happy.
I told her, "You think that I'm not there for you, that I won't be. You think that I don't really have your back. But I do. You question how I feel about you.
"So I'm gonna show you. It doesn't matter that you're indecisive.
"You get to have me on your terms. And I'll adjust my expectations accordingly."
I didn't say "if you fuck him, I get to fuck other chicks", but it was part of the deal in my head. But she assured me she isn't. And I believe her.
So, basically, I can have a live-in GF/wife, I just can't fuck her! LOL. And I'm all hers twice a week when holidays, my travel, and, you know, pretty much anything else under the sun that doesn't really make sense in a "normal" relationship gets in the way. I suppose this does mean I get to date other women, though. I just can't do any more than hug them. Or, you know, sleep in my bed, as long as we keep on some minimal PJs and don't cuddle much. Hot damn... Perfectly healthy, perfectly normal. Heh.
But I love her, so it doesn't matter.
It's still hard. Sometimes, like every weekend, like late at night like this, like when I wake up reaching for her at 2am, it's abso-fucking-lutely miserable.
But if it is what she needs, than I'll do it.
--
Actually, I'm not miserable right now. I had two pretty young ladies stare with mouths open recently. Sigh. One was at basketball today. Yeah, right, I know, she's like a giant oaf of a six-footer, a friggin' basketball center on a NCAA team, but what the heck. It still felt nice. She was pretty, too... just way too tall and way too young.
And, you know, not Mel.
Oh, and she basically weighed as much as me. According to her, I have an inch and 8 pounds on her. I joke about being gay and all, but it'd be like dating a man with tits and a vagina. Not exactly my version of Aphrodite. 5'4" and tossable around the room is more my cup of tea.
Still, it felt nice. I won't remember her name tomorrow and it was a fleeting moment of approval, but a reminder that there are options is... well. A sanity check at worst. And simply complimentary at best.
(The other was at a client site last week... but I interacted with her just long enough to shake her hand. Also far too young. Plus she's probably the client's daughter or niece or something. I'd run from that even completely single and on a dry spell.)
--
She says she wants choice. That him divorcing her isn't her choice, so she has to do his bidding until she chooses otherwise.
A little part of me thinks that I'm being a fool. That she'll leave me, sooner or later, and go back to the familiar. The "unconditional".
Except that if it were unconditional, you know, you could tell him you love/fuck/want/adore/need me and his love would endure.
Sigh. I suppose that's not really fair. Love can exist even as boundaries are enforced. I am more distant, now, even as I've committed to loving her in spite of her indecision and my admittedly pathetic second string status. I suppose, even though it's not really a conscious decision, that is a function of my own boundary setting. And him divorcing her because of me... well. I'd would be lying if I said I didn't blame the guy, or that I'd act differently.
And I'd still love her. It's just a boundary. An act of self-protection, of self-preservation.
And so I am alone every night. Because I understand.
This is forcing me to be a very big man. Forcing me to have compassion where I want to scream. Forcing me to see the pain in the soul of my enemy. Forcing me to be a better person when I want to cheat the system to get the girl.
I still don't think it's fair, of course. But again... I love her.
--
The reality is, of course, that it probably will be all for naught. She may yet love me forever.
But.
There's always a but.
If it turns out that way, I wonder what the speech will be like. It better be a good one. Heh.
--
Today I am grateful for good health. My shot felt good today, my shoulder felt tender but not injured like it has for over a year, my right arm's follow through felt unencumbered, and I performed almost as well as I did back in college. Back before running a startup.
I am grateful that despite the dozen grey hairs that are now undeniably present and the crow's feet that are not gone after ten hours of sleep, I can still pull undergrads based on my looks alone. And maybe a game-winning 25-footer. But then, that's just a function of being "in flow"... happy, healthy, balanced, focused. Pick any two and add a solid night's sleep. ;-)
Today I learned that love is really, really hard sometimes. I suppose I've been learning this my whole life, but the realization that "when you love somebody, you have to love all of them" is an epiphany that seems very fresh indeed. I'm still not sure I really understand all its implications, in fact.
--
She is at least as arrogant as me sometimes. I rather like it, actually. It's over the top, repetitive, vociferous, and almost obnoxious. I dare say it is more over the top than me. I know. Seriously.
Mostly, though, it just made me want to fuck her dirrrrty. Restraints, bruising bite marks, and difficulty walking kinda dirty. I found it neither annoying nor obnoxious. I just wanted to shut her up by...
Ahem.
(She had a really good month. Sales chick and all.)
--
I suppose you could say I'm not moping today. There's that, at least.
--
Alright. Let the therapy continue.
So if, when you love someone, you have to love all of them, what does that say about Mom? Or brother?
Do I simply not love them?
(ponders at length)
I guess, actually, I don't.
Gulp.
I appreciate my mother for being hardworking, for making sure there was food in the house and cooking dinner every night, even if we often didn't eat together and almost never as a family.
I appreciate her for making sure I had at least two new pairs of jeans to wear every school year, patching the holes when they came, and doing laundry 4 days a week so they were always clean.
I appreciate her for bailing me out of jail in 2000 when that crazy ticket from the 90s turned into a warrant. Heh. 8 employees, a millionaire on paper, and driving a 5 series... and I had to call my welfare mom to bail me out of jail because some dumb chick totaled my car in 1997 and I walked away from it. "Leaving the scene" they called it. The misdemeanor, no-fault version of "hit and run". Life can be quite humbling at times.
I'm not sure that appreciation is the same as love, though. In fact, I'm pretty damn sure it isn't. I appreciate the friggin' janitor dude at the gym, but I don't even know his name.
And there it is. My mother doesn't love me. And I don't love her back.
That was remarkably easy to write. I'm not teary or anything.
Weird. I feel like this should make me sad, but it doesn't. It is, actually, rather matter-of-fact. Almost nonchalant.
I wonder if that makes me a cold or disconnected person. I think that it might appear that way at a distance, but I don't think it does.
Actually, I think it makes me... mature. It is perhaps, even, evidence of a form of wisdom.
I'm still not sure I'm completely ok with it. She is my mother, after all.
--
Of my brother, I feel very little appreciation. I don't hate him, but I definitely don't like him. He is not a particularly wise, kind, nor even pleasant person.
I do want him to do well and be successful. I don't want anything to do with him.
I'm not sure yet if that means I don't love him.
--
Lil Sis told me today, "I think you're a lot of people's savior."
We were talking about mom stuff, about how she provided a place of refuge for her and Bro, but that in my case, I ended up saving her. She came to stay with me when she came of age (enough to leave dear old dad), not vice-versa.
It struck me as odd; still does.
It also made me really proud of myself. I felt -- feel -- like that means I've made a difference for the better. That I've affected the people I've touched, overall, in a positive way.
That thought makes me very happy.
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