15 posts tagged “love”
I've been gone. It's been bad.
There was a relationship. And a break up. A bad, bad, bad... bad, bad, baaad break up. And lots of drinking. There was also moving twice, and losing two family members, and getting another tattoo, and a couple more piercings, and losing a couple piercings, and spraining an ankle, and having a birthday, and making new friends, and honestly - no, honestly - laughing more often then crying.
Maybe I'll do this again. The vox, I mean. Definitely not doing the last six months again.
Going home to Philadelphia for a few days to see everyone I love in the world. Yippie! Have a good holiday, boys and girls.
Show us something you hold dear.
Submitted by Cindercone.
More than anything or anyone else in the world. Lula Dog, always.
When my ex-husband moved out, I told him that I'd kill him in his sleep before I let him take her. You think I'm kidding?
Driving down there, for the last time taking that route I used to take on an almost daily basis, looking at those keys and remembering how complimented I was that he cared about me enough to give me total access, I got so sad. Didn't cry, but just so sad and remorseful. I really did want to love him, and in the end he didn't want to be with me. I wasn't worthy enough for him to stick around during the rough shit.
So, yeah, guess it still hurts. Days and days and days go by now without me even thinking of him - but, obviously, it can still hurt when I do.
After this last year, my heart doesn't want to feel anything ever again. My heart is bitch slapping me and saying, "If you ever make me do that again, I'm going to f-ing kill you in your f-ing sleep."
I deserved better.
Joy is waking up to find Lula has snuck under the covers while I was sleeping and has her face next to mine, snoring softly.
It's love, knowing that she wanted to be near me; that she wrestled to get under the covers and next to my body; that she tucked her nose under my chin; that she puts her paw on my arm when I go to get up out of bed.
For some reason, the last four nights I've woken up at four a.m. on the dot. Ka-ree-hee-pee. I've also been dreaming about wandering inside tall, old, dark buildings.
After consulting with friends and dissecting the two relationships I had this year, we've come up with some new dating rules for me. Both heartbreaks this year were men in their 40s: #1 stopped calling after steadily dating for seven weeks, and then defied the "He's Just Not That Into You" Rules by calling suddenly two months later desperate to re-establish contact and pleading that he'd just been terrified of the intimacy (or maybe he was with someone else and she dumped him); #2 - the one I've recently been grieving - was attached to my hip for six months before the infatuation wore off, and then ran away when my life and health were a mess because ultimately his idea of "love" doesn't include helping his partner through "drama" if it's inconvenient for him. (me, bitter? nooooo.....)
- Don't Date. Seriously, losers just fall in my lap, one right after another. It's because I'm a sucker and they can tell; and I'm secretly insecure enough that I'm just glad someone considers me worthy of affection and attention.
- No men over 35. I've been sternly instructed to curb my Daddy Complex. A twelve year age difference doesn't mean I'm mature for my age, it means he isn't.
- No men lacking direction or goals in life (especially if breaking Rule #2). The two this year weren't established and were just drifting with no real plan; a younger woman (i.e. me) would forgive that because she (i.e. me) is probably adrift herself, but a woman in her 30s and 40s will rightfully expect you to have your sh*t together.
- No serial monogamists. If he can't remember how many girlfriends he's had, that's a very bad sign.
- His relationship history should include at least one three year relationship. See Rule #4.
- He must show an inclination to selfless gifts within the first two weeks. Like flowers or a card or a love note slipped in a jacket pocket. Going out to dinner doesn't count because he benefits from that too. It also doesn't count if he says "I thought about buying you flowers" or "I started to write you a poem." When your mom said "it's the thought that counts" she was referring to bad gifts, not being too lazy to actually give one.
- He shouldn't drink more than three times a week. Swear to God, one friend said, "no matter how cute he is when he's passed out.
Some how, that makes perfect sense to me.
Today, I went to the courthouse for the petition hearing on my divorce. After the hearing - which only took ten minutes - I stepped outside and cried. Not because the marriage isn't truly "irretrievable," but just because I never wanted this for myself or him or us.
Dumped and divorced in the span of three days, I don't have much faith in Love anymore.
Tonight, friends are taking me to see Kaki King. I'll be the curmudgeonly divorcee with the black glasses and Bettie Page bangs, scowling at anything with a penis.
I'm trying to.
