A brief, albeit spicy, love affair ended for me this weekend.
Unfortunately for you I’m not quite ready to dish it out. In due time, more details shall be revealed, but for now I’m going to release resentment by focusing on feelings.
My Day 5 post ignited our downfall. The player (named not for philandering but because he was part of the game) reads my blog regularly. Something in it struck a chord in his gray matter and, from it, started the acceleration of doubts and concerns about the possibility of us working. More specifically, the fact that I’d like to have kids doesn’t seem to fit his life goals.
I noticed a rapidly growing divide over the last week, but hoped that by allowing him to have space he’d regroup and recharge. Unfortunately for me, it just wasn’t in the cards this time.
He told me over the weekend that he didn’t see our lives as two that could combine and create happiness for both of us. His exact words were a little more abrasive than those that I’m posting here and they were given at the most unheralded of moments. I was thrown the fuck off.
His honesty was (and still is) very much appreciated. His delivery, however, wasn’t exactly delicate. Imagine two people sitting across from one another in a dimly lit bar while Nirvana played in the background. Cue laughter. Then, almost immediately, laughter turned to fear which then turned into tears (from HIM not me), which of course, turned into me being rejected. Holy unexpected, Batman. When he asked if I was upset about his decision to unexpectedly end things, I replied honestly. Would you expect anything less?
Yes, it pissed me off. No, I wasn’t mad that he was honest. Yes, I was upset. No, it wasn’t going to ruin our friendship. But as the hours pass and the realization that I’m back to square one resonates, a cynicism and resentment grows. It’ll pass, but right now I’m living it…owning it…so that when I’m ready to trash it, there won’t be pieces left behind. P.s. Who the fuck tells someone they want to date them, only to, weeks later, turn around and say that you can’t because of their desires? These wants, my needs, have been known for multiple years. He shouldn’t have been surprised. Dear boy, if you’re reading this…and you used that as an excuse…it’d be best to come clean now.
When relationships (or potential relationships) end, it’s never easy to walk away without questioning what could have been done differently that would’ve made the outcome more pleasant. And, in this case, knowing that my post started the beginning of the end really fucking hurt. Even though he was completely forthcoming with details, I feel a bit tricked. This person has known my aspirations for many years. If my quest for eventual motherhood is a problem, why did he sign on in the first place? Yep, that’ll be a question I’ll ask.
So, for the foreseeable future, I see myself gearing up for a major empowerment session. I’m going to treat myself to physical and emotional indulgences by committing to a workout plan and a nightly ‘time out’ (to read a book that I’m eagerly anticipating to be nothing short of more inspiration for my future as a writer…and, more importantly, a decent human being).
Do you want to read it with me? Isn’t it perfect that day 17 of the 30 Days of Truth experiment asks for a book that changed your perspective? Based on the forward, I think this one will do the trick.
I can’t save you – an excerpt from “I Could Tell You Stories” by
Rebecca Tsaros Dickson
Conventional wisdom says what you don’t have, you don’t need. But as
we get older, one thing stands out as constantly being in short
If I were the Queen of every night, here’s how it would go. First, the
bottle would break. Then we’d make a mess. We have lots of risks to
take and not much time left to take them.
This age of ours, it’s pretty fucking sweet. But we’ve used up the
seconds the gods gave us to lay around broken. Oh, and check your ego
at the door. They told me the next chapter means getting over
yourself. You’re not so important that the world will stop for you.
Though if you’re nice, I might.
If you’re an ass – if my dog dies and you can’t pause long enough to
offer consolation – well, then I’m sorry for you. Really.
It’s true, I want things in my life that you could give me. But you’re
not the only one who can give them.
You are only one.
So decide. Do you want the light? The moonbeams that dance on your
shoulder? The slippery heat that comes when you’re on the verge of
greatness? Or do you want to stay in that dark place you’ve grown
accustomed to hiding in – where your impulses and capacity to love are
stepped on, pushed down, squelched?
I can lead you on, if it’s easier – if it’s more familiar to have a
woman casually beckon you with her hand then stop you just short of
everything you ever wanted. Seems you like that, maybe a little too
But you always loved me best because I wear my heart on my sleeve.
Because I say it, when too many others will only think it. You called
it a beautiful epidemic, if only the rest of the world would follow
But follow-through is never as easy as it seems. Want proof? Just
answer one small question . . . What do you want from me?
And here is the beautiful cover art:
As a friend of Becky’s I will say that she will do nothing less than amaze you with her words. Go to her page, tell her I sent you…she’s a great flirt and an awesome woman. You won’t be disappointed.
To Becky: This excerpt is perfect. I think you just sent a message to the dumper that I really wanted to send myself. Thanks for being a stellar friend. I heart your face.
I’m going to own this as soon as my bank account gets heavier. Until then, you should probably tell me that I’m missing out because I can’t get it just yet.
I apologize for not dishing any juicy details or spitting venom at the gentleman who’s running away. I drank enough whisky last night that any sailor in America would be proud to have me as his arm candy. Yet, even with the booze, I couldn’t get over my funk.
I love you all very much. Thanks for being here with me.