Tuesday, October 29, 2013


I just keep splintering off pieces, you know? Hurling myself into the next romantic adventure because I can't get out of my head that tiny flicker of hope that one of these times it's going to click and there will be a chemical reaction, a massive explosion, and when the smoke clears, it will be me and one of these men, slightly singed, but upright and together on the scorched earth. 

I just keep doing it. Whether is lasts a minute or an evening or a few weeks or longer, I just take a big swig of air and dive in to the gaping gash of all things unsure and unsteady. 

And maybe I'm a little reckless with my heart, but I've had to live through the repercussions time and again, so I know what I'm in for. I do it anyway. I'm open and I do it anyway. 

But you know what? I'm weary. I feel fragmented. Bent. I'm tired of being the brave one. Just once, I'd like to know what it feels like to be touched in a way that the other person's caress is an answer instead of a question. "Yes." It will say. "Yes. I get it. It's you, it's you." Not, "What if? What if there is someone better? This feels good right now, but is this what I want? Is this what you want? Do you really want me? Is this what we both want? What if there is something better?" 

I demand to be the 'something better' in the narrative of my own life. I've got enough questions of my own, I want some answers. 

And maybe it's me, you know. Maybe I need to step back and take a few calm breaths instead of one harrowing gasp between endeavors. I bounce from hurt to hurt like I'm unaffected, but I feel it building something and I don't want to be a broken person that takes a leap because it's just another way of going through the motions. 


Because this shouldn't feel like going through the motions, I don't think. Maybe for some people, but not for me. 

I'm just tired, you know? Tired of everything sort of falling into place and then I look around and realize how much hasn't really fallen into place. I don't really expect it to, but how do I take steps in the right direction? I'm tired of sex being a way to hurt your friends or strangers or anyone who gives a damn. And I'm just really over holding my head high and pretending I don't care who is having sex with whom and who is actually fucking me over. I don't want to be the bigger person. I want to throw a public fit in the middle a crowded area. But I won't. I don't think I have it in me. There's only so much peace I can disturb.

And it's a good life, but god damn. My heart hurts. For no one in particular, and I think that's the problem. If it was one person, I could get a hold on it. Harness energy from it. Use it to fuel something inside me that burns and strives and moves forward. I'm so good when I've got something on which to focus. But it's not one person, not this time. It's this whirlwind of leaves that's surrounded me and I'm spinning around and around and there's no hope in catching any of them, of gaining any semblance of control. 

But I'm tired of spinning. I'm done with it for now.

Tuesday, October 15, 2013

On "Gone for Good."

I'm really the queen of leaving people hanging, huh? Yeesh.

I guess I should elaborate on what happened with Gone for Good guy.

So, he WASN'T gone for good!!!

However, he DID lie that night when he said he was too sick for company. Which is awesome because then I found out about it really awkwardly and didn't know how to deal with it- Because since I wasn't hanging out with him as planned, I decided to return the lawn furniture I had borrowed from some dear friends. They weren't home when I got there, so I called to let them know their stuff was back in their garage. And they invited me for a beer! At the brewery! So, I'm bummy and hemming and hawwing about it because I got canceled on and I could really use a beer so I start to lean toward going, but then I foolishly say, 'Who all is there?"

AND GUESS WHO WAS THERE WITH THEM?! Yes. That guy. Missoula is a small town, you guys. So much for the 'Self-imposed exile because I'm such horrible company right now."

Anyway. I get a sick feeling in my stomach and I DO NOT GO. Because I feel a tad bit hurt from this and I really don't want a confrontation and also our apparently mutual friends don't know we're kind of seeing one another, so I don't want to make anyone feel weird.

I don't say anything to him. For two days. Because I honestly have never had anything like this happen to me before. Either people just don't lie to me or I never catch them. But, I OF FUCKING COURSE run into him at the brewery that Friday when I'm there with my ya-ya sisterhood of roommates. The girls spot him, so I get all anxious and try to avoid him.

Anyway, that plan fails. He comes up from behind when I'm alone standing at the bar for a beer, and taps me on the shoulder. I stiffen immediately because of course I just KNOW this is happening and turn to see that, yes, my worst nightmare has come true. I now have to have a fucking conversation with this ASSHOLE liar. In public. So I turn and nonchalantly say "You're looking healthy." Because I couldn't think of anything else to say. To which he looks slightly confused, because he's still obviously pretty sick judging from his sickly ass appearance. But I'm not even concerned with his health at this point.

So anyway, I make a few niceties with him and kind of abruptly say "I'm going to find my friends."

And walk away.

Which I do find my friends and we're hanging out and having a good time. And then I see him standing around by himself looking lonely and start to feel kind of bad. I have NO IDEA WHY, because who goes to a fucking brewery by themselves? But whatever. I go back over and start talking to him and eventually invite him to join me at another bar, all the while making pithy bullshit comments like "I'm not going to force you to hang out with me."

blah blah blah other stuff happens that isn't exciting.

Okay guys, here's the part where I FINALLY confront him about being a lying jerk!:

I'm sitting on my bike, about to ride next to him to another bar. And I stop. And I sit there. And I'm like, "I'm only going to say this once. But I fucking know you lied and I hate having to bring this up because it makes me feel like a creepy stalker, because I'm not a creepy stalker! And if you don't want hang out with me, just tell me! OKAY? And also, what the fuck is wrong with you, why did you lie?"

To which he's very apologetic and says he's sorry that he's an asshole and he knew that I knew and didn't know how to bring it up. Blahdy blah, cry me a river, give me another chance, etc etc.

SO I'm like. "Alright dude, you just blew your freebie really early on. That's all you get. Let's never speak of this again. Like, never."

Which he seems pretty grateful about and I'm really grateful too because being confrontational is exhausting.
So we get to the bar and of course my friend C points at him from across the room and hollers "I'm going to killlllll youuuuuuuuuu."

But she doesn't. And thus begins the next three weeks of him making me meals, being really thoughtful, not cringing when he sees me in sweatpants and glasses, and sleeping over at my house/me sleeping at his.

So I start to get kind of comfortable and start to actually like/care about this person.

Until he informs me he's not over this ex girlfriend.

And he's gone.

Gone for good.