…thing worse than the way he treats her, is the way that she feels when he leaves.
Fresh, bitter, good for you. You meet someone who is exactly what you asked for in a partner. Attractive, stable, caring, understanding, faithful, accountable, etc…add to the list whatever it is that you want out of another person. But before God or whoever delivers them to you, they forget to flip the switch that makes you “Crazy” about them. Like, if you’re a man, she cooks, cleans and has ambition. She’s naturally beautiful. Witty, intelligent, and would make an amazing mother. She’s interesting, likes sports…or if she doesn’t, doesn’t try too hard to fit in. She lets you BE the man. She’s perfect. From her
If you’re a woman…He’s tall, strong, handsome, intelligent, well-spoken, puts his family first. He pays attention to details, thinks you’re the most beautiful woman in the world even when you’re crusty. He makes love to you like he’s coming home from war, every time.
But for whatever reason, you can’t turn “it” on for them.
A while back I would have played this scenario to the left and called someone ungrateful and selfish. But. Being the
ridiculous hypocrite growth-seeking person that I am, I know better.
I know that I have an unfair advantage. I am a relationship mutant. Sometimes I am vulnerable. And that’s hard. But do you know what’s harder? Pretending to be as vulnerable as your partner is. Or better yet, attempting to be. I’ve been avoiding my blog because I didn’t want the wrong person to read it and turn to stone. As much as I’d hate for that to happen, it’s no-longer my responsibility. I’m not callous. But I’m a lil hedonistic.
Pretty much gonna take my thoughts on this weekend to my grave. Which means “I’m only telling Priscilla”. He simultaneously complicates and simplifies my life.
Living room at the new place.
My sunroom/dining room.
My unfinished kitchen. Swangalangalang.
I move in next week. I’m so ready to mop floors and play with all the new appliances, I don’t know what the fuck to do with myself. The last 3 months have been rough, but it’s coming together. I win. And I don’t have to instagram filter out the ugliness or shout it to the world. I love non-disposable friends, my family and myself. Singing in the shower and a kinky martini. Billie Holiday and Boardwalk Empire. Section 80 and poundcake. I made a dark meat chicken spaghetti from scratch last night. Mother. Fucker.
…Out back and shoot them like they did old yeller.