Celibate silence.

My number one frustration is losing the ability to put words together when I’m not intimately involved. I don’t know what happens, but at certain point my hands go still and my brain starts to overflow with the excess of adjectives I’ve run out of room for. I still choke on the details, I just can’t spit them out.

The current condition of my heart is disastrous, at best. Twisting in the wind for the man who tied you up there in the first place, sucks. Realizing that he enjoys my suffering doesn’t help me hate him, unfortunately. I couldn’t quit his pretty smile if I tried and it is the last thing in the world I want to give up.

But I’ve been prompting myself to move past this bad time and put these chaste six months behind me before I go blind from the frustration all this window shopping creates.

peace

I went on a bad date. It was pretty wretched and I still have the stench of his cologne stuck in my sinuses. Its so funny how fickle the human heart is. McHotStuff could wear dollar store Old Spice and I’d fall at his feet in a puddle. Poor Derrick the attorney may have been in Yves Saint Laurent and I’m still annoyed. Something about these giant new boobs I bought, inspire the worst in some men. Derrick had a litany of questions and I snuck out the side door when he was in the bathroom. Sorry, not sorry. I’m not sitting through another date with anyone who can’t carry on an appropriate conversation for five minutes. My body is not up for discussion on the first date and if he’s lucky enough to make it to a third, we’ll discuss the volume of my implants. Yeeesh. apparently class isn’t something they teach in law school.

I weeded my garden, finally! It’s still weedy and overgrown, but the vegetables are getting bigger than the weeds and I’ve had spinach and radish salad for dinner every night this week. Juggling a half acre garden and a full time job is a little stressful and definitely stands in the way of any personal life I may want to have. A-fucking-men. I couldn’t be happier than to avoid the penis-folk entirely and if it’s one thing I can’t grow, it’s dick.

I’m stuck, sad and hopeless in a lot of ways. I can’t see around or past how I feel and that’s incredibly frustrating. I found a great therapist who’s done her best to shine a light on the whys and how’s of it all, but I still just find myself thinking about him. Some afflictions are bone deep and I feel like I need a transfusion to get him out of my veins. When you know all there is to know about someone and love them even more as a result, it’s difficult to turn a blind eye to it and walk away. It’s damn near impossible when walking away isn’t an option. How do you swim in the details and not drown? I’ll let you know if I figure it out.

want

I think this lesson is more about consequences of rash decision making on my part. I have learned the hard way enough times that I should have known better than to think I could be casual with someone special to me and not get involved. Getting involved emotionally IS my superpower. Hell, I get emotional about the dandelions blowing away in the wind without first being wished upon.

I’m just that girl and I always will be.

For the first time in my life I’m celebrating that instead of apologizing for it. ♥

this

Not another first date.

joy.jpg

I’d seriously considered hand picking the weirdos again. That was moderately entertaining and made for some hilarious reading to go back to when I’m feeling lonely.

I kept trying to force myself to shift gears into dating or making some semblance of an effort to stop the eternal comparison between He-whom-I-want-so-badly and Mr. whoever is standing in front of me.

It’s just not working. Not at all.

I got a handle on the daydreaming, but nights are still an epic wasteland of insomnia or graphic dreams detailing everything I miss so much. I’ve never been so tortured. Consequently, I lose interest at the speed of light when trying to replace him.

At 9 PM, I’m trying to move on. I open the variety of apps and see the same thousand men who don’t interest me in the slightest. I found myself collecting men with a vague resemblance to the man I love, or worse…

With the same name.

None of my intentions are pure with that last one.

So I’m hanging up my high heels and packing away my makeup. I’m so stuck that I’m a contagious broken heart, ricocheting around other people who are looking for love (or ass, & don’t even get me started on those guys). I’m looking for peace. There’s a huge difference and I don’t want to hurt someone else in the process of feeling better. I’m not a selfish asshole anymore.

I just happen to be wildly in love with the wrong person. It happens. It’s frustrating as hell, but it’s far worse to start creating casualties as a result.

Because by 9 AM the next morning, I don’t want to even text them back. My phone is like a choir of beautiful, available men… all singing me their own version of compliments and dick pics in hopes that I will say yes.

They’re doctors, lawyers, pilots, students, farmers, fishermen, etc… The internet allows you to select from a vast range of men. Thin or thick, tall or short, smart or hot… it’s like a catalog. Dominant, intelligent, successful, funny men. Every bit my type.

The one thing they aren’t: is him.

I don’t want to be on a date with anyone else, and faking it or trying to is absolute misery. I owe it to my date to not be subconciously wishing he were someone else the entire time. That’s shitty.

So the Dumpling and I went to the farmer’s market yesterday and bought another dozen tomato plants… a few more peppers… some pumpkins, and so on. I filled up my garden like I said I wasn’t going to do, because it fills my time and my heart with joy.

A dozen dahlias? Hell yeah, why not?

But I’ll pass on the date, thanks.

I have hours to sit and think about him and it sucks, for sure… but sometimes the only way out of hell is to walk straight through the center of it. It’s been months… surely I’m near the damn exit?

If nothing else… I have: red and golden beets, kale and swiss chard, spinach, carrots,2 varieties of basil, 6 varieties of potatoes, 2 varieties of peas, shallots, strawberries, zucchini, a rainbow of dahlias, 18 varieties of heirloom tomatoes, purple and green pole beans, mammoth delphiniums, arugula, zinnias, and 6 varieties of hot peppers.

Ya know… since I promised myself I was going to have a small garden this year.

It is nothing short of therapy for me and after a busy day in the dirt yesterday, I already feel a little better. That could also be because I deleted all the dating apps and flushed all the creepy new aspects of online dating down the proverbial toilet.

I’ll take dirt over dick, any day.

Not exactly sure what I’m going to do with all the vegetables that will result from the emotional overplanting of a lifetime, though.

Perhaps a little emotional crutch canning later this fall?