Take me out on a date- dinner for two...
yea right- I'm not good enough for you.
Scary movie side by side- some popcorn to chew...
not gonna happen- I'm not good enough for you.
A picnic in the park- pick me a flower covered in dew...
no daisies here- I'm not good enough for you.
A drive out in the country- holding hands as we drive through...
no locking fingers here- I'm not good enough for you.
Be my Prince Charming- bet I can fit that shoe...
no glass slipper here- I'm not good enough for you.
No flirty glances, no romantic gestures, not even one or two...
I get nothing emotionally cause I'm not good enough for you.
But, sure... come on into my home, into my bed, just like you want to....
I'm damn good enough to fuck- I'm just not good enough for you.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Rainy Memories
Rain. Bleh. I wonder why it trudges up so many memories...
As I was driving to work this morning my brain went into it's usual tornadic mode and I started having flashback memories of when I was 18. I had just moved to London, KY with my parents- the last place I lived with them before moving out on my own.
I hated it. Maybe that's why the rain and dreariness of this morning revived that memory. I had no money, no job could be found unless I went to work at the cookie factory (which is to London what UK and Toyota are to Lexington), and my parents had just moved me 80 miles away from the boy I was head over heels in love with. We stayed with my dad's mom for a while and then moved into a trailer on Slate Ridge Road in a community outside of London called Lily - and I knew there was no way in hell I was staying there.
But for some odd reason, what crossed my mind this morning was the first month or so that we were staying with my grandmother. That boy of my dreams had given me a t-shirt of his that he had sprayed his cologne on and I slept with it every night and cried for him. It was 97-98 so cell phones weren't as accessible as they are now, so I didn't get to talk to him much because long distance and collect calls were just too expensive. I ended up so sick that I could barely move out of bed and thought I was going to die. I was "love sick". Literally.
Not many months after that I ended up moving out on my own and that boy of my dreams became my live-in boyfriend. Years later we eventually married and of course, are now divorced.
But what that memory sparked this morning is just a reminder of what I want again. I want to love someone that much again. Emotionally healthy or not- I want to feel that much for another human again, that much passion. I want to find another person that I feel like I can't live without. I've loved since then but have yet to feel anything that strongly.
Is it possible to feel something at 30 that we felt at 18? And for someone else? Was it really love or just 18 year old naivety? Has the bitter, cynical side of me ruined any chance I have to find that sort of passion again? I haven't found it since and I really do doubt I'll find it again- but hope never hurt anything, I guess. Maybe if I could find someTHING I'm passionate about the someONE will soon follow...
As I was driving to work this morning my brain went into it's usual tornadic mode and I started having flashback memories of when I was 18. I had just moved to London, KY with my parents- the last place I lived with them before moving out on my own.
I hated it. Maybe that's why the rain and dreariness of this morning revived that memory. I had no money, no job could be found unless I went to work at the cookie factory (which is to London what UK and Toyota are to Lexington), and my parents had just moved me 80 miles away from the boy I was head over heels in love with. We stayed with my dad's mom for a while and then moved into a trailer on Slate Ridge Road in a community outside of London called Lily - and I knew there was no way in hell I was staying there.
But for some odd reason, what crossed my mind this morning was the first month or so that we were staying with my grandmother. That boy of my dreams had given me a t-shirt of his that he had sprayed his cologne on and I slept with it every night and cried for him. It was 97-98 so cell phones weren't as accessible as they are now, so I didn't get to talk to him much because long distance and collect calls were just too expensive. I ended up so sick that I could barely move out of bed and thought I was going to die. I was "love sick". Literally.
Not many months after that I ended up moving out on my own and that boy of my dreams became my live-in boyfriend. Years later we eventually married and of course, are now divorced.
But what that memory sparked this morning is just a reminder of what I want again. I want to love someone that much again. Emotionally healthy or not- I want to feel that much for another human again, that much passion. I want to find another person that I feel like I can't live without. I've loved since then but have yet to feel anything that strongly.
Is it possible to feel something at 30 that we felt at 18? And for someone else? Was it really love or just 18 year old naivety? Has the bitter, cynical side of me ruined any chance I have to find that sort of passion again? I haven't found it since and I really do doubt I'll find it again- but hope never hurt anything, I guess. Maybe if I could find someTHING I'm passionate about the someONE will soon follow...
What Kind of Girl Can't Cry
She'll warm you with her friendly smile,
she's quick to embrace a friend in need...
she gives advice like a wise old soul-
she's one of a dying breed.
She's the shoulder you can lean on
and the one to listen when you need an ear-
she's the hand that's there to pick you up;
but the girl can't shed a tear.
She wants so badly to feel something
other than the pain inside.
She wants so badly to let it all go...
What kind of girl can't cry?
She'll keep you company late at night,
she'll warm you in her embrace...
she's the one you call when you're lonely,
and when you need it she'll give you space.
She's not a fighter but don't think she won't
to protect those she holds so dear...
she can calm you down or rile you up-
but the girl can't shed a tear.
she's quick to embrace a friend in need...
she gives advice like a wise old soul-
she's one of a dying breed.
She's the shoulder you can lean on
and the one to listen when you need an ear-
she's the hand that's there to pick you up;
but the girl can't shed a tear.
She wants so badly to feel something
other than the pain inside.
She wants so badly to let it all go...
What kind of girl can't cry?
She'll keep you company late at night,
she'll warm you in her embrace...
she's the one you call when you're lonely,
and when you need it she'll give you space.
She's not a fighter but don't think she won't
to protect those she holds so dear...
she can calm you down or rile you up-
but the girl can't shed a tear.
Haunted
She wants to rest her weary soul,
she prays for a night of peaceful sleep-
wants to visit heavenly places
instead of the hellish visions she sees.
She's tried counting sheep, focused on happy thoughts,
even hoped to dream of love...
but the demons haunt her late at night-
jaw clenched, covered in sweat, she wakes up.
Often times she awakens in tears,
barely stifling a scream-
tortured by things she's never seen in reality,
wanting just one night of sweet dreams.
But when she closes her eyes and her mind takes over;
the bullets, blood, and gore start again.
She never understands the meaning behind them-
she only wants the nightmares to end.
Most people wish to dream of those they've lost-
they hope for visits from beyond at night.
But for her it's a curse to see the pain
of the people she's lost in her life.
They appear to her, filled with anguish,
with such deep sadness in their eyes.
She cries and begs and tries to talk to them,
yet still never gets to say goodbye.
Each day that she wakes she's exhausted;
carries on with a feeling of dread.
How do you move on and get on with your life
when your dreams are haunted by the dead?
she prays for a night of peaceful sleep-
wants to visit heavenly places
instead of the hellish visions she sees.
She's tried counting sheep, focused on happy thoughts,
even hoped to dream of love...
but the demons haunt her late at night-
jaw clenched, covered in sweat, she wakes up.
Often times she awakens in tears,
barely stifling a scream-
tortured by things she's never seen in reality,
wanting just one night of sweet dreams.
But when she closes her eyes and her mind takes over;
the bullets, blood, and gore start again.
She never understands the meaning behind them-
she only wants the nightmares to end.
Most people wish to dream of those they've lost-
they hope for visits from beyond at night.
But for her it's a curse to see the pain
of the people she's lost in her life.
They appear to her, filled with anguish,
with such deep sadness in their eyes.
She cries and begs and tries to talk to them,
yet still never gets to say goodbye.
Each day that she wakes she's exhausted;
carries on with a feeling of dread.
How do you move on and get on with your life
when your dreams are haunted by the dead?
Ridiculous Dreams
Could I have been more of a fool?
Dreaming those ridiculous dreams...
believing I found what I had always wanted,
believing he could really love ME.
Dreaming of the white picket fence,
the American dream, a piece of the pie...
a life filled with romance, filled with love-
go figure... it was all a lie.
An act, a facade, a play-
a play on words, a play on my heart.
I opened myself up again-
only to be torn apart.
Wanting so badly to scream right now-
to punch something, find something to break...
seems the only thing broken is me though-
nothing here to ease this ache.
I should have known better,
so now bitterness sets in.
Self pity, pathetic loathing,
pissed off cause I did it again.
I gave someone my heart
expecting it to be safe with a man,
only to have it burn up in flames-
the match lit by his hands.
Back on the road of solitude-
learning to be once again alone...
turning my tears into fire-
and this broken heart into stone.
Dreaming those ridiculous dreams...
believing I found what I had always wanted,
believing he could really love ME.
Dreaming of the white picket fence,
the American dream, a piece of the pie...
a life filled with romance, filled with love-
go figure... it was all a lie.
An act, a facade, a play-
a play on words, a play on my heart.
I opened myself up again-
only to be torn apart.
Wanting so badly to scream right now-
to punch something, find something to break...
seems the only thing broken is me though-
nothing here to ease this ache.
I should have known better,
so now bitterness sets in.
Self pity, pathetic loathing,
pissed off cause I did it again.
I gave someone my heart
expecting it to be safe with a man,
only to have it burn up in flames-
the match lit by his hands.
Back on the road of solitude-
learning to be once again alone...
turning my tears into fire-
and this broken heart into stone.
Nocturnal Pain
Lying in bed alone, listening to the falling rain...
beating in rhythm with my pulse, against my window pane.
Wishing I were in your arms, not lost with thoughts of you in my head...
reflecting on regrets, and words, I wish I would have said.
Sirens in the distance scream, like lovers torn apart,
the night wind carries a chill, that matches the one in my heart.
Loneliness tends to overtake, on solemn nights like this...
my mind is wandering- missing you- wishing for just one kiss.
No creatures stir, yet I am restless, no sleep for me tonight...
I ache to be wrapped up, in your arms, beneath the pale moonlight.
But alone I lie in this cold, queen bed- you're a million miles away...
I close my eyes and can hear you speak the words you'll never say.
beating in rhythm with my pulse, against my window pane.
Wishing I were in your arms, not lost with thoughts of you in my head...
reflecting on regrets, and words, I wish I would have said.
Sirens in the distance scream, like lovers torn apart,
the night wind carries a chill, that matches the one in my heart.
Loneliness tends to overtake, on solemn nights like this...
my mind is wandering- missing you- wishing for just one kiss.
No creatures stir, yet I am restless, no sleep for me tonight...
I ache to be wrapped up, in your arms, beneath the pale moonlight.
But alone I lie in this cold, queen bed- you're a million miles away...
I close my eyes and can hear you speak the words you'll never say.
Heat
(Inspired by "Burn" by Usher)
Your eyes...
burn a hole in my soul.
Your touch...
sends flames down my spine.
Your kiss...
melts away my defenses.
This heat...
overtakes my heart.
This fire...
consumes my being.
I know I’m going to get burned,
yet
still...
I want to be engulfed by you.
Your eyes...
burn a hole in my soul.
Your touch...
sends flames down my spine.
Your kiss...
melts away my defenses.
This heat...
overtakes my heart.
This fire...
consumes my being.
I know I’m going to get burned,
yet
still...
I want to be engulfed by you.
Another Decade Down the Drain
Resolution, schmesolution. Who needs 'em?
It's almost 2011, people. Am I the only one having a hard time believing that?? Is it just me or does it seem like it was just yesterday that everyone was freaking out over the Y2K scare? Where has the last decade gone?!?!?! Another year gone, another decade for the next generations to make fun of. Were there even any real "fads" of 2000-2010? Maybe I just didn't notice because of my age. What are your most memorable moments of the last ten years? Twenty years from now when you remember the... wait, what is that decade gonna be called? The singles? hahahaha! Anyways... when you look back on "the singles" of 2000-2010, what will stand out in your mind?
I'm sure our grandparents and great-grandparents have their fond memories of the 'simpler life' from the early part of the 20th century. Our parents have the great music, Vietnam, Woodstock, etc. from their years. We have the craziness of the 80's and 90's, the terror attacks of 9-11, and our own war. Is that all we're gonna have to look back on when we're the seniors of America?
As for me... the past 10 years have been one helluva ride, that's for sure. Growing up is a bitch and I'm still in the process. Actually, I think I've gone backwards. Lol! Bought a house, got married, sold the house, got divorced, got a new job that I was at for almost 5 years, moved into my very own apartment by myself for the first time in my life, got pregnant, lost my dad, lost my son, totalled my car, got laid off, and now here I sit. Of course those are just the big things that stand out in my mind of the last ten years. What are your big things?
So another year is gone. Last year I had the motto of "New Year, New Rules, New Life". This year I think my motto is just gonna be "Go With the Flow". There's no point to resolutions. No one ever keeps them. There's no point to thinking "This year is gonna be so much better than last year." It's just another year of trying to survive, trying to live life as happily as possible, and trying to duck and weave all the bullshit that gets thrown at us throughout the days.
So to all my friends, may you have lots of luck for 2011. And if you get hit with a bucket of shit, be sure to close your eyes and mouth. :oP
"May all your troubles last as long as your New Year's resolutions!"
I'm sure our grandparents and great-grandparents have their fond memories of the 'simpler life' from the early part of the 20th century. Our parents have the great music, Vietnam, Woodstock, etc. from their years. We have the craziness of the 80's and 90's, the terror attacks of 9-11, and our own war. Is that all we're gonna have to look back on when we're the seniors of America?
As for me... the past 10 years have been one helluva ride, that's for sure. Growing up is a bitch and I'm still in the process. Actually, I think I've gone backwards. Lol! Bought a house, got married, sold the house, got divorced, got a new job that I was at for almost 5 years, moved into my very own apartment by myself for the first time in my life, got pregnant, lost my dad, lost my son, totalled my car, got laid off, and now here I sit. Of course those are just the big things that stand out in my mind of the last ten years. What are your big things?
So another year is gone. Last year I had the motto of "New Year, New Rules, New Life". This year I think my motto is just gonna be "Go With the Flow". There's no point to resolutions. No one ever keeps them. There's no point to thinking "This year is gonna be so much better than last year." It's just another year of trying to survive, trying to live life as happily as possible, and trying to duck and weave all the bullshit that gets thrown at us throughout the days.
So to all my friends, may you have lots of luck for 2011. And if you get hit with a bucket of shit, be sure to close your eyes and mouth. :oP
"May all your troubles last as long as your New Year's resolutions!"
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Unapologetic
I refuse to apologize for being real.
I have no desire to join the masses who are so eager to impress one another with their artificial everything. Fake hair, fake nails, fake eyelashes, fake body parts, fake tans, fake personalities. I'm no Barbie. I don't want a Ken.
Everything about me is genuine. I'm honest. My body is real. My face is real. My hair, my nails, my accent, my personality. When I wake up I am the same person as when I fell asleep. I don't have to remind myself to be someone that I'm not. I don't have to act a particular way because of who I am around. Everyone who knows me knows the same girl. Go ahead, ask. I bet that Barbie girl you drooled over at the bar can't say that.
I may not be where I want to be in life. I may not have the material things that seem to matter, like your brand name clothes that you find so horribly important. I may not drive the best car, or have much money in the bank. My credit sucks and I've never been to college. But when you meet me, when you talk to me... you get ME. You don't get an imposter who's trying to be someone just to impress you. I want ME to impress you. And if I don't, move on. Don't waste my time or yours trying to change me. I am who I am, you are who you are.
I grew up poor. I grew up on welfare. I grew up in low-income apartments, trailer parks, and places where most of you are scared to drive. My mommy and daddy didn't pay my way through life. Everything I've ever had, I've had to earn. I appreciate everything I've ever had that much more because of that reason. I am proud of where I come from because, even though everyone in every neighborhood I've ever lived in was poor like me, most of them were REAL just like me. We didn't try to keep up with the Jones' because the Jones' didn't have shit either.
I don't feel the need to put on a short little dress, tons of makeup and hairspray, and high heels I can barely walk in every time I step outside my house. Yes, it's fun to get all dolled up and go 'girly' sometimes but I don't need to do that in order to feel comfortable going out in public. I am comfortable in my skin, without all the glitter.
I speak my mind unless I think it will hurt people I care about. When it comes to people I love I am a bit of a pushover. Maybe that's the 'fakest' thing about me. I love crude humor, I can make sailors blush with some of the things I say, I act a fool when I'm having fun with my friends, and I typically don't censor myself when at a bar or even on Facebook. I have no reason to. But I know how to be a "lady" when necessary. I behave myself when I must, but when it's not necessary I have fun. Regardless, I am still ME.
For a few years now I've been insulted by numerous people for being 'redneck' and having 'redneck' friends. But here's the thing about me and my 'redneck' friends- we are all real. We get along with everyone. We accept everyone for who they are. We don't look down on you for spending $50 on a button-up shirt at Hollister when you could have gotten the same shirt at Walmart for $9.99. We may think you're a bit crazy but we won't dislike you for it. But at the same time, we aren't impressed with that ridiculousness either.What impresses us are other real people who don't feel the need to belittle others with snide comments degrading people they think are beneath them. Each different personality brings a new element into our lives and we all learn things from our differences. That's how it should be. We don't care what car you drive or what you do for a living. We don't care what clothes you wear. We don't care how much money you have in the bank, how many degrees you have, or what you own. So why do you??
I refuse to apologize for being me. I refuse to apologize for being that "redneck" chick. I refuse to apologize for not having the perfect body, the perfect hair, the perfect life. I refuse to apologize for loving the people I love and wanting to be surrounded by them because they make me happy. I refuse to apologize for not wanting to change because I don't fit your idea of what I should be. I refuse to apologize for having fun just as I am. I refuse to apologize for having the same personality regardless of who is around me. I refuse to apologize for not feeling the need to put on a show to impress you.
I refuse to apologize for being real.
Everything about me is genuine. I'm honest. My body is real. My face is real. My hair, my nails, my accent, my personality. When I wake up I am the same person as when I fell asleep. I don't have to remind myself to be someone that I'm not. I don't have to act a particular way because of who I am around. Everyone who knows me knows the same girl. Go ahead, ask. I bet that Barbie girl you drooled over at the bar can't say that.
I may not be where I want to be in life. I may not have the material things that seem to matter, like your brand name clothes that you find so horribly important. I may not drive the best car, or have much money in the bank. My credit sucks and I've never been to college. But when you meet me, when you talk to me... you get ME. You don't get an imposter who's trying to be someone just to impress you. I want ME to impress you. And if I don't, move on. Don't waste my time or yours trying to change me. I am who I am, you are who you are.
I grew up poor. I grew up on welfare. I grew up in low-income apartments, trailer parks, and places where most of you are scared to drive. My mommy and daddy didn't pay my way through life. Everything I've ever had, I've had to earn. I appreciate everything I've ever had that much more because of that reason. I am proud of where I come from because, even though everyone in every neighborhood I've ever lived in was poor like me, most of them were REAL just like me. We didn't try to keep up with the Jones' because the Jones' didn't have shit either.
I don't feel the need to put on a short little dress, tons of makeup and hairspray, and high heels I can barely walk in every time I step outside my house. Yes, it's fun to get all dolled up and go 'girly' sometimes but I don't need to do that in order to feel comfortable going out in public. I am comfortable in my skin, without all the glitter.
I speak my mind unless I think it will hurt people I care about. When it comes to people I love I am a bit of a pushover. Maybe that's the 'fakest' thing about me. I love crude humor, I can make sailors blush with some of the things I say, I act a fool when I'm having fun with my friends, and I typically don't censor myself when at a bar or even on Facebook. I have no reason to. But I know how to be a "lady" when necessary. I behave myself when I must, but when it's not necessary I have fun. Regardless, I am still ME.
For a few years now I've been insulted by numerous people for being 'redneck' and having 'redneck' friends. But here's the thing about me and my 'redneck' friends- we are all real. We get along with everyone. We accept everyone for who they are. We don't look down on you for spending $50 on a button-up shirt at Hollister when you could have gotten the same shirt at Walmart for $9.99. We may think you're a bit crazy but we won't dislike you for it. But at the same time, we aren't impressed with that ridiculousness either.What impresses us are other real people who don't feel the need to belittle others with snide comments degrading people they think are beneath them. Each different personality brings a new element into our lives and we all learn things from our differences. That's how it should be. We don't care what car you drive or what you do for a living. We don't care what clothes you wear. We don't care how much money you have in the bank, how many degrees you have, or what you own. So why do you??
I refuse to apologize for being me. I refuse to apologize for being that "redneck" chick. I refuse to apologize for not having the perfect body, the perfect hair, the perfect life. I refuse to apologize for loving the people I love and wanting to be surrounded by them because they make me happy. I refuse to apologize for not wanting to change because I don't fit your idea of what I should be. I refuse to apologize for having fun just as I am. I refuse to apologize for having the same personality regardless of who is around me. I refuse to apologize for not feeling the need to put on a show to impress you.
I refuse to apologize for being real.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
It's never a good idea to go under the influence of nitrous.... and sappy music
"I prithee send me back my heart,
Since I cannot have thine;
For if from yours you will not part,
Why, then, shouldst thou have mine?"
~John Suckling
"So who broke you?"
Since I cannot have thine;
For if from yours you will not part,
Why, then, shouldst thou have mine?"
~John Suckling
"So who broke you?"
That's one of the questions I've asked a lot of my guy friends. You know, those guys. The ones who have become the 'players' and 'heart-breakers' of today. And they all have the same answer... "well there was this girl..."
There is always that one person who finally does us in for good. That one person who finally ruins any potential for successful relationships for us beyond them. That one person who broke us so badly, and whether we admit it or not, that we will never fully be over. Or in my case, and the case of many of my girlfriends, there were a few that added up and that 'one' was just the final straw.
Yesterday I received more registrations in the mail at work for a conference that my boss and I coordinate. I unfold the registration and the name on the check catches my eye. It sent my heart to the pit of my stomach and suddenly I felt like I was going to be sick. It was from the mother of my last serious boyfriend... the 'one' who finally broke me. When I saw her name, hundreds of memories came flooding through my brain- almost as if I was going into a heartache induced seizure. Suddenly I found myself reminiscing of that short time her son and I were together. He was everything I had ever imagined my 'Prince Charming' to be. Well... at least he made me believe he was. For the first time in my life I was in ridiculous bliss. I was blinded to everyone else around me. For the first three months life couldn't have gotten better. He was gorgeous, sexy, tall, dark, handsome, romantic, intelligent, strong, manly, and my 'country boy'. Even thinking about him now, I can still remember how he smelled. But alas, all good things must end.
Around the three month mark- he ripped my heart out. He ended us with no warning, no notice, and some very hurtful words. I cried until I couldn't cry anymore. A month or so went by and he came back, crying and begging me to take him back and forgive him. I did, of course, and welcomed him back with open arms- although a bit gun shy and leery. After a few weeks it was back to where we were before and I was back in my state of ignorant bliss. Again, the three month mark rolled around and he ripped my heart out again. I had sworn to myself years before him that I would never cry after or beg a man to be with me. But I dropped all my pride and dignity and cried after him as he got into his truck and drove away- not even looking back. A week passed and again he called, crying and begging. This time I thought I made him prove himself. He swore he went to a doctor and was diagnosed bipolar and got a prescription for meds to help him. He swore he had gotten help and was even seeing a therapist and that he would never hurt me again. And, like the foolish woman I am, I believed.
As you can guess- the story did not end like the fairy tales. He ripped my heart out one last time and I finally bid him farewell for good. "Three strikes you're out", I told him. It was hard but then he said something so cruel I won't even type it here- which made me hate him. I thank him for that actually. His horrible words made it easier to say goodbye. But the whole experience of him re-opened the hole that I thought I was starting to finally heal. And sadly, a year and a half after saying goodbye, that hole is still there. It's funny how such a short relationship can lead you to that dark place in your head and your heart that no one can rescue you from.
Today, as I was lying in my dentist chair under the influence of nitrous, listening to sappy love songs on my mp3 player, my mind started racing through memory after memory. Heartache after heartache. Each one different, yet, somehow the same. A different villain in each storyline, same broken feeling.
The lying from my ex-husband. Years before we were married, and even after we were married. But he was my soul and I loved him so I forgave each sin. Then I became the 'bad guy' for my one sin against him, for which I will never forgive myself. He is now with an old high school girlfriend and they recently had a baby. I wish him nothing but happiness and joy.
The 'Casanova' bastard who told me everything I'd ever wanted to hear from my ex-husband and didn't mean a word of it. The one who made me believe that happiness really was possible. The one I crushed my ex-husband over. The selfish one who will never grow up and never truly love anyone but himself. He is now married with a baby and still hasn't realized the error of his ways. Karma's a bitch. I thought he learned that a few years ago...evidently not.
My sons father. I trusted him from day one. There was something so angelic about him from the beginning. But I was never good enough for him. I smoked too much, didn't eat right, didn't exercise enough, was too much of this or too little of that. The day I gave birth to our stillborn son he was leaving flirty comments on another girls pictures on her Myspace. He swears he never cheated. Did he? I'll never know. He always preached at me about how exes can never really be friends. Yet while we were together he started hanging out with a girl he had slept with years before that. They were, of course, "Just friends". They now live together. We still talk on occasion but he's not allowed to actually be my 'friend'- it might hurt that girls feelings. Hmmm... wonder if she thinks about how I felt?
My "Prince Charming". As you read above, he was the straw that broke the camel's back. A week after our final conversation in February he met a girl at a tanning salon. They were married August 1st of that same year. She added me on Facebook for about a week and then I deleted her, and I even spoke to her on the phone. She seems like a sweet girl. I wish them the best but can't help but feel my stomach drop at the mention of his name or the sight of his face and those dark brown eyes that hypnotized me so many times.
There is always that one person who finally does us in for good. That one person who finally ruins any potential for successful relationships for us beyond them. That one person who broke us so badly, and whether we admit it or not, that we will never fully be over. Or in my case, and the case of many of my girlfriends, there were a few that added up and that 'one' was just the final straw.
Yesterday I received more registrations in the mail at work for a conference that my boss and I coordinate. I unfold the registration and the name on the check catches my eye. It sent my heart to the pit of my stomach and suddenly I felt like I was going to be sick. It was from the mother of my last serious boyfriend... the 'one' who finally broke me. When I saw her name, hundreds of memories came flooding through my brain- almost as if I was going into a heartache induced seizure. Suddenly I found myself reminiscing of that short time her son and I were together. He was everything I had ever imagined my 'Prince Charming' to be. Well... at least he made me believe he was. For the first time in my life I was in ridiculous bliss. I was blinded to everyone else around me. For the first three months life couldn't have gotten better. He was gorgeous, sexy, tall, dark, handsome, romantic, intelligent, strong, manly, and my 'country boy'. Even thinking about him now, I can still remember how he smelled. But alas, all good things must end.
Around the three month mark- he ripped my heart out. He ended us with no warning, no notice, and some very hurtful words. I cried until I couldn't cry anymore. A month or so went by and he came back, crying and begging me to take him back and forgive him. I did, of course, and welcomed him back with open arms- although a bit gun shy and leery. After a few weeks it was back to where we were before and I was back in my state of ignorant bliss. Again, the three month mark rolled around and he ripped my heart out again. I had sworn to myself years before him that I would never cry after or beg a man to be with me. But I dropped all my pride and dignity and cried after him as he got into his truck and drove away- not even looking back. A week passed and again he called, crying and begging. This time I thought I made him prove himself. He swore he went to a doctor and was diagnosed bipolar and got a prescription for meds to help him. He swore he had gotten help and was even seeing a therapist and that he would never hurt me again. And, like the foolish woman I am, I believed.
As you can guess- the story did not end like the fairy tales. He ripped my heart out one last time and I finally bid him farewell for good. "Three strikes you're out", I told him. It was hard but then he said something so cruel I won't even type it here- which made me hate him. I thank him for that actually. His horrible words made it easier to say goodbye. But the whole experience of him re-opened the hole that I thought I was starting to finally heal. And sadly, a year and a half after saying goodbye, that hole is still there. It's funny how such a short relationship can lead you to that dark place in your head and your heart that no one can rescue you from.
Today, as I was lying in my dentist chair under the influence of nitrous, listening to sappy love songs on my mp3 player, my mind started racing through memory after memory. Heartache after heartache. Each one different, yet, somehow the same. A different villain in each storyline, same broken feeling.
The lying from my ex-husband. Years before we were married, and even after we were married. But he was my soul and I loved him so I forgave each sin. Then I became the 'bad guy' for my one sin against him, for which I will never forgive myself. He is now with an old high school girlfriend and they recently had a baby. I wish him nothing but happiness and joy.
The 'Casanova' bastard who told me everything I'd ever wanted to hear from my ex-husband and didn't mean a word of it. The one who made me believe that happiness really was possible. The one I crushed my ex-husband over. The selfish one who will never grow up and never truly love anyone but himself. He is now married with a baby and still hasn't realized the error of his ways. Karma's a bitch. I thought he learned that a few years ago...evidently not.
My sons father. I trusted him from day one. There was something so angelic about him from the beginning. But I was never good enough for him. I smoked too much, didn't eat right, didn't exercise enough, was too much of this or too little of that. The day I gave birth to our stillborn son he was leaving flirty comments on another girls pictures on her Myspace. He swears he never cheated. Did he? I'll never know. He always preached at me about how exes can never really be friends. Yet while we were together he started hanging out with a girl he had slept with years before that. They were, of course, "Just friends". They now live together. We still talk on occasion but he's not allowed to actually be my 'friend'- it might hurt that girls feelings. Hmmm... wonder if she thinks about how I felt?
My "Prince Charming". As you read above, he was the straw that broke the camel's back. A week after our final conversation in February he met a girl at a tanning salon. They were married August 1st of that same year. She added me on Facebook for about a week and then I deleted her, and I even spoke to her on the phone. She seems like a sweet girl. I wish them the best but can't help but feel my stomach drop at the mention of his name or the sight of his face and those dark brown eyes that hypnotized me so many times.
With each heartache a chunk of ourselves gets broken away. After we experience that final 'one', something happens inside of us that we don't even realize. We become desensitized to love. Yes, I have been crazy about people since my last heart-break, but I have not allowed myself to feel real love for anyone since him. Sadly, I've become a bit of a villain myself, as we all do after being hurt so many times. We learn to be on constant guard of our hearts and souls, and we are subconsciously attracted to the ones that we know we can never have anything real with. As soon as we start to actually 'feel' something, we find a reason (or a hundred) to back off. We develop a phobia of emotional pain. I personally would rather someone beat me half to death than to break my heart ever again. Bruises and broken bones heal with time- true heartache never fully does.
Present day... I sit here in my one bedroom apartment in front of my monitor. My cat asleep on the chair behind me, and my apartment completely silent other than the tranquil humming from my computer and my fingers tapping away on the keyboard. I stay in a comfortably numb state for the most part. Until something sparks the memories like a name on a check. Or nitrous and sappy love songs.
"I am tired, Beloved,
of chafing my heart against
the want of you;
of squeezing it into little inkdrops,
And posting it."
~Amy Lowell, "The Letter"
Present day... I sit here in my one bedroom apartment in front of my monitor. My cat asleep on the chair behind me, and my apartment completely silent other than the tranquil humming from my computer and my fingers tapping away on the keyboard. I stay in a comfortably numb state for the most part. Until something sparks the memories like a name on a check. Or nitrous and sappy love songs.
"I am tired, Beloved,
of chafing my heart against
the want of you;
of squeezing it into little inkdrops,
And posting it."
~Amy Lowell, "The Letter"
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