Goodbyes are so hard for me. Nothing stings more than a bond left broken or a situation left unresolved.
I like things tied up in a neat little bow. I like to own my own bullshit and I like to accept responsibility for my role in an unpleasant situation.
Not everyone feels the same… and for some people? It’s ok to just say “FUCK YOU” and walk away.
I’ll never be that girl.
I’ll always be the one who wants you to look back fondly.
I’ll always be the one willing to accept more than my share of the blame, purely to keep the peace.
I’ll always be thankful for the lessons, even when it comes to the heartbreak. They all count… even the painful lessons- in fact sometimes they count more.
The last time I heard this song was the day the Dirty Boat Thief finally left.
Loss is loss… even when it’s a blessing in disguise. Saying goodbye hurts when you still love someone, even when you know you shouldn’t. Even when the other person hates you.
Sometimes goodbye stings even more because you know it’s been a long time coming, or because you really wanted to believe he was that mythical perfect man. The one we all hope really does exist because otherwise… what’s the fucking point? If they’re all just a variation of the same douche bag… I quit.
When you’re going through the end of a relationship, no matter how calm or rocky… it reaches a point where there isn’t anything left to say, and anything said will be fueled by hate or frustration, not an honest desire to come to a resolution.
Sometimes the only resolution is silence, and if you think insults hurt? Nothing compares to a cold shoulder.
At a certain point, all that’s left is goodbye.
I don’t want to hurt someone. I don’t want him to hurt me. I wanted it to be perfect and it wasn’t. I wanted to be what he loved and couldn’t live without… but I’m not.
It taught me to want the kind of love that puts diamonds in champagne flutes.
It taught me to demand amazing and walk away from anything less because that’s how what I’m determined to be in someone’s life: amazing.
Breakups are horrible and nobody wants to trudge down that lonely cold road for what feels like the millionth time.
Staying on the same miserable path simply isn’t an option when you’ve seen how beautiful life CAN be and WILL be again. Lonely is better than miserable, and in time it’s pretty comforting to find yourself in the company of someone gentle and kind, IE: yourself.
Standing too close to the impending crash of a relationship is dangerous…
I choose to walk away quietly, carry my little white flag of surrender and blow kisses in the rear-view mirror. I choose to watch it end with a smile, knowing I did what I could to give a love so star-crossed, a chance to bloom.
The facts are, it just didn’t germinate. The seeds molded and decomposed. It was a failed crop in the greenhouse of my life.
I had the incomparable joy of planting them, watered them with laughter and salt water and hoped patiently that they would thrive in plenty of sun.
But sometimes they just don’t sprout. Sometimes they just return to the soil and become food for the next seed that’s planted.
Painful lessons about what you don’t want, need & deserve are unpleasant, but necessary.
They’re the lessons that teach you how to say goodbye when you want to the least.
I wasn’t going to write this. He’d asked me to keep our lives private and I respect his wishes. My Darling T meant the world to me.
He’s not lying when he says he’ll make you feel like the only thing in his life. I felt like the leading lady in my very own fairytale. Clouds had nothing on me, I was more than floating in mid air…. I was obnoxiously high on life.
I got on a plane early in the morning, in fake lashes even… I was scared out of my mind and my little sister and I giggled nervously.
K- I’m so proud of you. I hope it’s everything and more.
My heart was racing through security… they took the jam I’d made him out of my purse. I was pissed off and my feet already hurt in my pretty high heels… which I simply couldn’t avoid wearing. It was finally here… that day I get to meet him in person. My pirate… the king of my heart.
My first flight was uneventful… and I wandered aimlessly around the Denver airport for my layover. Starting to get a little anxious. Heading to the bar for a beer and a few hundred deep breaths. Laughing over a drink with a Marine on his way to the Superbowl, sitting next to a guy with a white Macaw parrot on his shoulder. I’m not kidding.
The second flight was my favorite… because my seat was in the midst of The Alley Cats, a du-wop band. I told them about my blind date in paradise… and they were a little blown away. My nerves were getting worse and I ordered a cocktail while we laughed about the notion of it.
The third flight was delayed, just to increase my anxiety. An hour later… and getting there felt like it was endless. He wasn’t there… and my heart sunk. Real panic set in when he didn’t answer his phone the first, or second times. Had I made a huge mistake? He finally answered… and was asleep. I told him I had arrived and he said he’d come get me. The hour at the airport felt endless. Standing in a low lit parking lot alone with a couple Time magazines… nervously hoping he’d like the actual me. Scared out of my wits.
But then he was there… and it was like he always had been… and I kissed him immediately. It was intense and amazing and he treated me like a princess the entire time. From the moment he touched my hand for the first time I knew he was the only man I ever wanted in my life. I realize that sounds dramatic, but that’s simply how it felt.
We went to the beach… and played in the sand. Taking pictures of my daughter’s bunny by the ocean and drinking rum together. We fell in love physically, like we’d already been mentally. He is my missing piece. I know that without a doubt, and he teased me when I started missing him half way through our vacation, telling me when he saw the tears brewing… “Hey… I’m right here!”. I was aching over leaving him, over going back to everyday life without him with no end of those days in sight. It was heaven on earth- that’s a contrite and cliche way to describe it, but it really was.
Hiking through the rainforest, eating unusual foods and hours spent taking me to his favorite places. It was magic. I know without a doubt that I will love him forever. It was a connection as much as any of us ever hope for, and I will never not miss his presence because it was just so right.
Making love for hours, and spending just as much time laughing. He wouldn’t stop tickling me… and occasionally I let him because I love the way he laughs. He was amazing- and it was all perfect… while being a highly emotionally charged 4 days. He intentionally blew my mind, and showed me everything wonderful and amazing he could think of, while expressing his love for me openly. It was the best 4 days of my life, and I miss him so much it aches.
I’m sharing pictures and I know he probably wont be happy about it- but it’s all right there. Love… what it really truly looks like.
Our last picture together, on a pier. While tears ran down my cheeks and he kissed me… not knowing how on earth I was going to be able to face the daily grind missing him as much as I already did. Hurting physically at the idea of missing him.
Ultimately kissing him goodbye…
Life is short… take the risk even if the odds are against you because you only live once.
I’m always amused by the people who read my blog and think it’s a description of my character or even a shadow of who I really am.
I’m especially bemused by the people who believe everything they read. I’d be willing to bet these are the same folks that watch Fox news.
This is my verbal exhale, my wordy little cathartic playground. Play nice or fuck off. Yeah… that’s how it is.
I couldn’t care less if you’re critical, judgmental or hell-bent to dislike me. Go ahead- drink your big ol’ glass of Hater-ade and keep on reading. If anything you inspire me to be spicy…just to get under your skin and piss you off.
I’m an amazing woman. I’m a great daughter, a happy mommy and so very much more than a bunch of words typed in anger, sadness, disappointment… or even joy, love and hope.
If I’m going to be judged by anyone? It’ll be by the people I love and care about that I choose to have in my personal life. If you know me personally? Then none of this comes as a surprise.
I’m the one that leaves dinner on your doorstep, takes your kids when you’re sick and knits your mom a hat when she has cancer and all her hair falls out. True story.
I love deeply… I forgive quickly… and I do not carry a grudge. I move through my life with respect to everyone and everything around me. I say nice things. I do nice things. I believe in Karma before all else, and if you think for a second that I don’t judge myself a million times harder than anyone? Think again.
There’s a lot you’ll never know about me, because for as much as I share… I am intensely private and constantly concerned about hurting someone’s feelings. I don’t like it when people dislike me- and I will go to the ends of the earth to apologize when I’m wrong.
My mother told me nearly every day as a child… “To err is human, to forgive, divine”. We were browbeaten with the golden rule & taught to help, love & nurture the people and things in our lives.
So shoot me if I’m a bit of a vixen behind closed doors… shouldn’t every fantastic woman be?
I’ve put my trust where it wasn’t valued, and I’ve shared my heartache with the masses. If that makes me a bad person in your eyes then I apologize for your inept holier than thou attitude… OH and I have a list of guys I’d love to set you up on a date with… <snicker>…
I’ve made turning the other cheek an art form and have learned to keep my chin up even as the water flooded in up to my pearl-clad earlobes.
Feeling a little sensitive this morning, obviously… and definitely annoyed that people still waste time judging anyone else- but whatev… If it’s one thing I’ve learned by blogging, it’s that you can’t please everyone, and sometimes it’s just a lot more fun to tell someone to kick rocks, plus I’m pretty good at burning the verbal house down.
Would life be any fun if we were all the same? No. Would it be better if I wasn’t outspoken? No. Should I give a fuck what anyone thinks? No. That’s their shit- not mine.
I happen to think I’m pretty sweet. I think you’d have a hard time arguing with me if you were a friend of mine, or loved by me. In fact, I know this- because I make an effort to really truly love the people I’m blessed to have in my life.
All of whom would go to the ends of the Earth for me, because I’d do the same.
Some things you don’t know- and should… because obviously I care what you think even though I wish I didn’t, lol….
~ I’m a sentimental hoarder. I save all the art projects, all the report cards, etc… that my children have made. My favorites are laminated… ya know… because they’re my most priceless possessions. I have a china cabinet in my living room full of homemade “treasures”. People look in it and laugh… but if the house caught on fire I’d risk my life to save its contents.
~ I’ll hold your baby while you eat, even while I’m working. I’m that nice lady that refills your drink and charms your little monster long enough that you can eat hot food. Regardless of the tip or if it affects your opinion of me. I do it because I love little people and I’m a supermom.
~ I remember what your favorite color is, your favorite candy… your favorite flowers- because I’m thoughtful and I want you to have what you love on your birthday.
~ I write under pressure of a deadline because I’m writing a book and I would love to not have to ask “Would you like chips or fries with that” for the rest of my life. I look at the big picture, not the thumbnails. I care about the example I set for my children and though I’m proud that I’m able to support this crazy expensive household… it’s more important to me that they see me do what I love and what I enjoy because I want that for both of them.
~ Regardless of money being ridiculously tight- you can have my last $5 if you need it. I give freely with no expectation of the same being returned. I won’t hassle you to repay it- but if you don’t it will definitely be the last time. I’m nice, not stupid
~ I make heart shaped pancakes… and I’m so OCD I separate the batter so that some of them are pink and some of them are white… I know… it’s silly… but those are the little details that make me have a wonderful day….I don’t eat them. ♥
~ I feed the cat tuna fish and the dogs chicken and rice every once in a while… purely because I would be miserable if I had to eat the same old boring dry crunchies every day.
~ I put my extra pennies in the take-a-penny dish at the gas station.
I’m nice, dammit… and a blessing to have in your life if you’re so lucky.
So there.
Hmph…. I’m burning these damn people pleasing panties, once and for all.
Ohhhh Mikey… You’re going to learn a very big boy lesson right now. Us grown girls don’t fuck around and we do not take it lightly when you think for a second that you can make sad examples of our baby sisters. You have barked up the wrong tree this time, good old plate-man. Some of us don’t give a fuck what you’re capable of in bed. We care about your character…. of which you have none.
I just have one thing to say… She’s what… 20? Hmmm… Honestly? That’s so much easier to hide your bipolar alcoholism from. Way to go you…
She’s a poor man’s Lovely, and you know it…. but then we all do.
Yep… I’m not fucking nice…. and when you mess with the best? You mess with the meanest bitch with a keyboard in the Pacific Northwest…. but honey… you mess with her? You mess with the whole lot of us… and we love her enough to hang our bare asses out to make an even bigger ass of you.
Doubt me? I’m counting on it. Go ahead and try me… and I’ll lay your tiny little sad details bare… and you can walk around barefoot picking up the pathetic shards of your life while I laugh, point at you and mock your existence.
Umm hmmm… just ask the boys who’s unflattering nicknames highlight the tags on my blog…
I live to humiliate the worthy.
I work hard to empower the women I know are worth it… and this man? Not that he qualifies as a man… he deserves the shameful ass-handing he’s about to get.
Hi Mike… kiss, kiss… guess what? I never really liked you. I tolerated you because you meant something to someone I loved as much or more than I love than my sisters. Yep… you lucky piece of shit… you actually made it worthwhile to humiliate you, and I’ve taken a vow of angelic perfection.
My curls are hanging just right… my ruby red lips are smiling… and my darling boyfriend is out being better than you without even trying. Asleep… he has you beat.
Good game, high 5… Bitch…. and ohhh honey… don’t lie… cause I’m cataloging them and I will systematically destroy you publicly if you continue to contact my darling girl.
Though I’d love to know how you get out of these details… and I’d pay big bucks to be a fly on the wall if she reads it to you, looking for answers. Come on, tell me… cause I’m dying to know… Mikey doesn’t like it?
20 is fuckable… not permanent… lol… but then you knew that because you WILL NOT LEAVE MY LOVELY ALONE.
lol… go ahead… take it away my darling Lovely friend…..
Dear K,
I understand the discomfort in hearing from me, I’d be equally as uncomfortable if I’d gotten an email from you.
But I didn’t.
I was faced with the reality of you being a part of my boyfriend’s life when one of our close friends, G, broke down and cried the week after I got back from scattering my dad’s ashes in Hawaii. That was late October. It was the night that Mike crashed the boat and he called me. I was sitting on his couch, watching tv and we had plans the next day when he got back from elk hunting.
I had no idea you even existed in our relationship. I’m sorry if you’re equally as shocked right now. It is not my intention- I only know that if nobody had told me about you, I never would have known and would still be thinking about my future and life with him. We talked marriage .I have a close relationship with his son. We rode bikes around town and looked at houses for sale. We had two dogs together, Tanman and Tuck. We grew a garden together. He built us a bed from his bare hands. I am sorry to share my pain with you, but you deserve the truth as much as I did.
Unfortunately… this hasn’t really ended between him and I. We are still sexually active. I’ve been intimate with him this week. He still expresses his love but he has told me it’s over between the two of you. He told me you’d found out about me and ended things.
One thing sticks in my mind though… he tells me always that if I really want to make him hate me, or end things forever, then I’ll tell you what’s going on.
This is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to write, because I really truly love him. The facts on the ground are that it’s an unhealthy abusive relationship and I apologize if I’m hurting you to save myself, but it’s only right. You deserve the truth he worked so hard to hide from me. You deserve to know that I’m not just some crazy ex he’s labeled me as.
I’m quite Lovely. I have amazing friends who love me and a family that I go overboard to protect. I’m a good person and I have a good heart. I have had a rough year, but my heart and life are full. I am blessed to have people in my life who hold me accountable; and this is why I’m writing this letter to you today. I’m damn funny, and in any other circumstance my guess is that we might get along famously, and hell…. we are Eskimo sisters now. I’m sure you’re very nice too.
I’ve heard he takes you to the same places… and he probably says the same things. I’m sure you play with our dog and I heard you work at the animal hospital so I’m sure Tanner probably loves you… that is particularly painful because we made a choice together with regards to our future, one that I’m not part of like I used to be. So shoot me… I miss my dog and it sucks to think about someone else being the face he wakes up to.
I’ve done everything I could think of to avoid sending this to you- and frankly he threatens that if I said anything to you he’d simply fuck some other girl from the bar. This week, someone told me you are still very much a part of his life. I’ve asked, and he hasn’t mentioned you- so it was the same old shock, all over again. I realized that if I didn’t say something to you, I was just as culpable as Mike keeping you a secret from me. I know we were intimate with him at the same time because he’s admitted as much to me.
I’m sure you don’t like me. I’m positive you’ve been conditioned to think I’m some crazy ex girlfriend, just like I’ve been told you’re out of the picture.
You can call me if you want to talk to me. I completely understand if you don’t. The very sad truth of it all is that we both fell for the same guy and we both deserve more. He was my best friend and the love of my life… and one attempt to get over this whole nightmare was cutting up his deer over mimosas to “My Best Friend’s Wedding”… one of many examples of our attempts to make it all better and get back on track over the last few months.
Because years of love, heartache, absolute joy, and then total sadness have a way of making even the most inane moments feel so perfect. He seeks me out. I cave. I’m sorry if you have somehow been caught in the chaos of the unraveling of our relationship- but you deserve truth, if nothing else.
Perhaps I’m just the wrong girl, or perhaps it was all just a lesson and this is just a simple set of Cliff Notes for you to understand. Perhaps it just is, what it is. But… if nothing else… I believe you deserve the truth….and if the truth sets you free? Then hey… You’re fucking welcome.
My number is ***-***-****. You can call or text me if you need. I have answers if you’re wanting them.
I blew my book deal on self respect. I couldn’t bear a few more dates with crazy men. Yeah… I’m saying I’m better than all that- so shoot me. It took a year of dating men I wouldn’t even give a second glance in the grocery store, to gain that level of confidence.
In my year of internet dating, I saw some crazy, crazy shit. Some of which is still locked tight in the draft section of my blog. Some of which will hopefully never see the light of day, because I’d hate to be sued by Match.com like Oprah was sued by the cattle industry for hating on a burger…. cause I could shut that shit down with what I know now.
Apparently (nobody told me) the whole internet dating fiasco is set up for some glorified hook up network.
So let me start by saying that NOT ONCE did I ever have sex with an internet date. Never. First and foremost because thou shalt not fuck weird ill-adjusted weirdos… but more than that?
I wasn’t even the slightest bit tempted, ever.
I saw it all, y’all…. and admittedly I began to hand-pick the crazies, so I deserved some strange experiences toward the end. I began to use my online dating as writing material towards the end of the crazy run, with a publishing group hot on my tail, begging me for just a few more every time I turned in more of my documented suffering.
I chose the weirdest of the weird- so I know just how bad it really is, when it’s at it’s worst. I was the wife-swap producer of Match.com. I systematically chose my opposites, sent a few emails and sat back to watch the trains collide.
I shook the ants in the jar, if you will…. and I never made it easy.
I pulled out my A game. I wore fishnets and heels. Fake eyelashes became second nature and the bleach in my hair was as common as the fake smile on my ruby red lips.
I was propositioned, hit on, flirted with, stalked, insulted, preached to, parented, offered a job, AND solicited for garden advice.
Welcome to dating, crazy internet division…. and not for the faint of heart.
I had a few uneventful pleasant dates… but honestly? It was more fun to date the crazies. I’d given my heart to a man determined to be unavailable, and if I had to pass the time missing him, I preferred to not hurt the innocent.
So I dated the guilty.
1. The extremely elderly appearing Delta pilot who swore he was in his 40′s… hmm…. perhaps 20 years ago…. brought his dog along on our date and let it run around the restaurant. For the manner police, that’s right up there with robbing a bank on the way. I was too mortified to really hear what he was saying. He brought his homemade jerky and it damn near ripped a filling out. Goodness. When he made the awkward attempt to kiss me goodnight, I actually ducked and thanked God at the same time that he was so tall. Out loud.
2. I have a few favorites… but this guy was right up there. The wild African game hunter/ bible beating baptist. My favorite hand picked opposite-do-NOT-attract lunatic. He actually asked me how I felt about “Our Lord and savior, Jesus Christ” before my salad showed up. I understand being passionate. I understand deal breakers…. but come on Grandpa missionery… have some respect for privacy. I told him about my favorite magnet… and it was our only date. One of the only dates I ever left early.
I have a very private relationship with God. I don’t buy a lot of it…. but… I love being Catholic. I have strong Mormon roots. You can take the girl out of Utah but you can never really take the bee out of the hive. It feels like home when I go back… yet I’m far too outspoken to thrive there.
I’m genetically Mormon, raised Buddhist and Catholic by choice. Three details absolutely predetermined to annoy the Bible beating crazy wild animal hunting Baptist. The writing was on the wall, but for the first time, I told a date I was not interested in continuing the date. I told him I was leaving…. and I did.
Slowly… these weirdos taught me to speak up… and how to stand up for myself.
3. My date last Valentine’s Day was beyond crazy. He let me pick a restaurant, and met me there for dinner. He had two dozen white roses in his hands. I must have had a deer in the headlights look on my face because he hugged me hello with them in between us, shoving them towards me. He was about a foot shorter than he’d said… but was attractive and nice. Ish. Something was just…. suspect. He was completely wonderful. Impeccable manners, ordered for both of us- sigh… Hispanic maybe? I don’t know. With the exception of the awkward pile of roses on the bar next to me (he forgot to make a reservation)… it wasn’t that bad. Goose on the rocks X2… and he was pretty nice. He asked me if I wanted to get a drink after dinner and I agreed. He took the roses from me and grabbed my hand on the way to the car. Nice enough- ok… it seemed normal, if a little… early. Whatever. He opened my door- handed me the flowers. and shut it… nice touch. I was impressed. Shiny white Mercedes sends up a red flag… he’s in his late twenties, early thirties… which is awfully young for that sort of debt… I don’t know- I’ve learned too much in doing this for a year… I’m being judgey. He drives around the corner to the martini bar and parks.
I don’t really have time to silently chastise myself for jumping to assumptions before he practically rapes my face with his mouth. I could feel his teeth a half inch from my lips. My word. His hand reached for my thighs and I grabbed his wrist. He was insistent and for the first time in this whole escapade… I was afraid. I was thankful my friends were only a few steps away, and reached for the door handle while holding his wrist to keep it from creeping any higher. Yikes. I sent the preplanned “HELP” text and I was done with him in a matter of 20 minutes.
The fun part?
Two weeks later, I get a call from a screaming lunatic wife… his wife. The wife that wants to know why he has a credit card receipt for two on Valentine’s day, and my number on the roses he bought.
He bought her a vacuum… and frankly I’d trade her… but she was a little too ballistic to chat about a trade. Think of the look on his face if he came home and saw those roses though… lol… I’m mean like that when it comes to cheaters.
She kept insulting me so I told her the absolute details of our conversations, plans, date, and the face rape/mouth attack that occurred in the car. Bad idea… one mention of the car and the lady went over the deep end. I honestly expected to see his face on the news the next day- she was that irate. She thanked me and hung up… I got one text from him later that said “Thanks A LOT!” lol… uh… you’re welcome, Cheater McFaceRaperPants.
I truly have seen it all. I avoided the hippie faction after the last bad time- but other than that… I went on 18 dates.
18 First Dates… never a second… and granted I live in a small town, but I’m the nicest person in the world when it comes to accepting people for who and what they are. As long as you’re not an asshole- you are A OK with me. Let your freak flags fly however you like- I like unusual people.
But these weren’t unusual people. These were crazy people. Creepy sometimes. Scary sometimes. Always weird.
I am an internet dating flunkie- and it wasn’t for lack of interest. I put myself out there and my profile was viewed thousands of times… I got hundreds of emails… and sorted them carefully at times and recklessly at others.
You have to like someone to consider being romantically involved with them. You can’t do that with someone based on a photographs and some cheese-ball fill-in-the-blanks profile. You have to get to know them first… and most of the serial internet daters are all about the hook up.
I’ve seen the stories, read the news… etc. My aunt recently got engaged to someone she met online.
I fell in love at first write… I come from a place of experience… I know it’s possible.
It does exist… but it’s not meant to be prepackaged and force fed. Figure out if he has a soul first and if you like it. Figure out who he is. BE CAREFUL.
Allow yourself to fall in love with the way he thinks…
But only if he does.
Oh and good luck…. you’ll need it.
….and thank the good Lord & Baby Jesus that my days on the online menu are over. <shudder>
Don’t even get me started on the Naked Man, the Police officer who ran my plates to get my phone number, and last, but not least…Dr. Cocktail Linky- who sent me pictures of his 2″ wang and continues to come in every Wednesday, without fail… sometimes with his wife and kids too. Oh my…
To quote one of my best guys, and the best advice I ever ignored…
