I can now be found at the B-Sides.
I’m drinking a Heineken and I can hear my heart beating in my ears, it’s bouncing against the peach fuzz.
I’m thinking about how long it’s been since I’ve blogged. I’m trying to decide if I blog less when I’m busy with love, or when I’m bogged down by heartache. This week has been difficult. It marked the anniversary of the death of one of my best friends. I’ve yet to get my full cry out.
I also ended a situation that I know I’m not done with. My mother says if you don’t feed it, it will die. I keep leaving crumbs like I don’t know how to hit “ignore” or block a number.
Speaking of my mother, she did an amazing thing for me yesterday and it reminded me of what I already knew…that she is the best.
I am in a good place. But I think I had lost sight of that. The weight of this week has forced me to feel the contrast and count my blessings.
I had to take the hardest test I’ve had in a LONG time today. The professor programmed it to allow us 90 minutes to complete it. But in the library, your web session ends after 1 hr. So with 11 minutes to go, and 22 hard ass global government questions left…I started guessing. The questions might as well have been in Chinese. I knew I had 3 attempts to take it, so I sped through just to guage how terrible I’d do. I assumed I’d get a 50 or worse. Finished with 4 minutes left and got an 88. Look at God throwing his weight around.
I’ve decided that I have stockholm syndrome. I am most at home when he treats me like shit. Even when I beg for scraps, he manages to throw crumbs. I’ve been mentally done for a while now. But those eyes. And that mouth I don’t get to kiss enough. They ruin me. His scent puts me to sleep. It’s not my mattress or the movie or the beer. It’s his arm around me. It’s that lotion he uses that I won’t buy, even though I love it because I want to be over him and whatever it is we are doing well before that big ass bottle is finished. I know better than him. I know I can do better than him. But I will wait until the spell is broken. It is a race my spine has already won.
…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.