Stop.

I want so badly to give up the desire.  To end the craving.  I wish I could stomp the hope out like I could a dying fire.  When it hurts like this I want nothing more.  But I know, just like every other time, in a few days the hurt will start to fade.  I will forget how each one of these tears burn as they fall down my face.  I won’t remember the utter emptiness I feel, the depths of alone.  The despair when that hope dies, when the barren solitude returns.  These scars will be healing.  The bruises faded.

In a certain amount of time I will see someone else.  They will see me.  Hope will return.  We’ll talk and I’ll be funny and sarcastic.  He’ll eat it up like I’m his best discovery since his iPhone 4S.  There will be an attraction.  We’ll spend some time together.  At some point he will do something and I will feel the change.  It’s when I realize I care.

It won’t be too long after that when it will happen again.  I don’t know what it will be this time.  Maybe it’s some epiphany he will have.  Maybe it’s some other girl he spies.  Maybe it’s the direction of the wind that day.  Whatever brings it, it will come and I will feel that too, like a shift in Earth’s axis.  It’s when the control changes and suddenly he’s not as ‘there’ as he once was.  It’s not 50/50 anymore.  This is the point when I should stop, cut my losses, and head in the other direction but I won’t.  I will cling to his dying affection as if it’s my lifeblood.

He’ll become a little more distant, I will begin taking the burden on myself.  I will find a reason in my own mind for his behavior and so the battle will begin.  Battles are where I’ve spent most of my life.  So much so that it seems perfectly normal to me.  Expected.  I’m comfortable here.  It’s what I know.

Of course no one is going to love me for free.  I will have to fight for it.  So I bring out that battle-worn armor and I start preparing.  ‘This one I’m going to win,’ I tell myself even though I know in the back of my mind I won’t.  I know how this story goes.  It’s as familiar to me as the battle I’m about to fight.  But I won’t stop.  I can’t.  I don’t know how.  This is all I know.  If I stop they will leave and it’s just me again.

Even on my weakest days, I get a little bit stronger.

I know my heart will never be the same
But I’m telling myself I’ll be okay
Even on my weakest days
I get a little bit stronger.

~ Stronger, Sara Evans

 Can I be honest with you for a minute?  This morning….this morning I was weak.  For the first time in a long time I thought about Playboy calling me in the mornings on his way to work.  But I didn’t just think about it, I actually teared up and because I was at work, I had to fight the urge to just put my head down and cry. 

I don’t know why the thought even occurred to me this morning.  It’s been over 7 or 8 months since the last time he ever called me like that. 

I’ve been kind of sentimental lately though.  The other day I was thinking how badly I wanted to be kissed by someone who loves me again.  Or maybe kiss someone I love.  How it’s so different from any other kiss. 

I wondered this morning about his weak moments.  I have these random moments where I feel that knife stab me in the heart one more time, or the times when I feel like I miss him so much I could reach my hand out and touch him.  Of course I then question if he ever has those.  I don’t want to be the only one.

But this morning I realized his weak moments were probably in the beginning when starting a ‘relationship’ with me.  That’s when he seemed to struggle.  Once he finally did turn his back to leave he didn’t seem to have any trouble walking away.  So his weak moments are probably over and done.  Good for him.

I’ll get there.  One day my guy’s going to come.  He’ll show up and make me forget about all the other guys from my past.  All the other hurts and disappointments.  Playboy will be nothing but a distant memory.  A story to tell.

So sure, today may be one of my weakest days, but damnit, I’m getting a little bit stronger.

I am one hateful trick.

Don’t be messing with me in Dream World.  I’m just sayin’.  Friday night I fell asleep on my friend’s couch watching movies and I was dreaming right before I woke up. 

In my dream my friend was in a wheelchair either paralyzed or with no legs and much the same as Awake World, we were watching a movie and she was texting the whole night.  In Dream World her boyfriend walked into her house in pajamas and I realized she was trying to get me to leave because of him.  I was pissed.  P.I.S.S.E.D.  That’s just girl code.  You don’t do it.  So I got up to leave and walked over to her, turned her wheelchair on it’s back where her feet were in the air (quite gently, might I add) and said to her, ‘How you gonna get up now, you stupid bitch?’ and then woke up. 

Hardcore.  That’s what I am.

Me and being awoken from slumber don’t really get along all that well to begin with  (trust me, my friends have legendary stories to share) and when you add onto that me being Dream pissed, it’s just not pretty.  I knew it was just a dream but logic doesn’t really enter into my reality until I’ve been awake a good 28.46 minutes at the least.  So I stormed out of my friend’s house slamming the door behind me. 

Epically hardcore. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~

So Bean….he’s been texting me some.  I’ve seen him twice since my last post.  This is what I’ve determined about myself…..I don’t know that I could suck more at dating.  Or interacting with men period.  The whole world just confounds me and stresses me out like no other.

You know those women who have guys chasing after them in all their unaffected aloofness?  Not me.  Not even a little bit.  I don’t know what to do.  Ever.  Do I text, do I not?  Do I believe him, is he lying?  Should I stay, should I go?  And then there’s the whole issue of what you expect from someone you are not in a relationship with.  This isn’t just with Bean, it’s with any guy.  But I’m telling you, at times it drives me to the point of just wanting to quit.  If I wasn’t so darn stubborn I probably would’ve already given up on men altogether.  I just don’t do it well.

Twice this week I was on the verge of writing him off altogether.  Once because I was just freaking out and thought it best to revert to my old tactic of running and sticking my head in the dirt which always seems logical, and then this weekend because he knew I was hanging out with his mom Saturday night and Sunday (we’re friends from way back) but didn’t bother to show up until late Sunday.

I decide to write him off about mid-afternoon but then there he is all tall and lanky with that cute smile.  At first I’m a tough chick, in my mind my head is doing all kinds of rolling with finger snapping, and I am unfailing in my ability to ignore his very existence…but then he goes and starts talking to me.  Crap.  I lasted about 12 minutes.

I’d decided I would be aloof but not rude because he shouldn’t know it bothered me.  Unfortunately I learned yesterday that my ‘aloof with a side of nice’ facade is not quite as Jason Bourne as the rest of me and therefore embarrassingly easy to penetrate.  But he’s acting like he did nothing wrong..said he played baseball all day (he’s on some local team) and then I’m questioning myself.  Did he do something wrong?  Should I have expected him here?

Needless to say my whole diabolical plan of aloofness was flushed down the toilet and I was giggling like a school girl again within an hour.  On the plus side, he did stick around to “watch movies” until time to go.  And if it’s any consolation, I was pretty darn awesome and charming even if I wasn’t twirling my head and being all badass.  

Leaving I felt like overall I’d handled things pretty well.  So I guess we’ll see what happens.  The saga continues….

And please say to me, you’ll let me hold your hand.

I don’t want to say too much yet, but I met a guy this weekend.  We spent an entire afternoon flirting like high schoolers and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him since. 

I’m all kinds of unreasonably giddy.  I have that daydream-y glaze over my eyes and last night when I talked about him I got butterflies. 

I realize this could be nothing.  The fact that I haven’t had a high school “crush” on a guy in forever doesn’t mean much.  The fact that this isn’t my typical reaction doesn’t mean anything either.  It could all be squashed as quickly as it began. 

I can’t help that part of me that hopes this really is different though.  The part that tells me, no matter how many times it hasn’t been, there’s got to be one that is.  Maybe this is what I’ve been waiting for.  Maybe it’s finally my turn.

Yeah you got that something
I think you’ll understand
When I say that something
I wanna hold your hand

Stupid Girl Syndrome

“So do diesel engines use the other oils gas cars do?  Like…oil?  And transmission fluid?”

Seriously.  I said those exact words yesterday.  **Palm. To. Forehead.**  I’m almost too embarrassed to write about this – admitting it to everyone.  Almost

I do not suffer from Stupid Girl Syndrome.  I do not.  The idea of dumbing myself down for a man to find me charmingly empty-headed makes me sick to my stomach.  I don’t know what happened to me yesterday!  Cute guy in my office and suddenly at least 5,623 of my brain cells play dead for a good 10 minutes.  Traitors!!!

He talks about lawn mowers and I tell him I killed three of them cutting my own grass.  And I giggle.  Like an idiot. 

He talks about gas vs. diesel engines and I say, ‘Oh!  That’s what spark plugs are for!’ 

Even as I watch my brain capacity dwindle down I am thinking to myself, ‘What?!?!  What are you saying?!?!?!  SHUT UP!  SHUT UP NOW!!!’

I couldn’t stop.  I could. not. stop myself.  Finally towards the end of the conversation I attempted to salvage what little self-respect I had left by saying, ‘I’m sounding really dumb right now.  I’m not that dumb.  I just don’t know about this stuff.’

“This stuff”.  Like it’s so far beyond my simple little mind I can’t even come up with a word for it. 

**sigh**

My stat graph is shrinking.

As if I need a reminder. 

When I first started this blog my graph showed at least a full week and counted up to 10 views.  In recent weeks it’d shrunk down to show 5 views, and just this morning I log on to see it only shows four days and up to 2 views.  Because no one reads this thing.  Ok, that’s partly my fault because I refuse to mention it to any of the people I know except one.  Whatever.

Anyway, that one friend used to look at it every morning regardless of update but she’s all busy being happy with a new beau now so I guess it fell to the wayside.  And that may not be the reason but it’s what my head tells me so I roll with it.  Can you tell I’m slightly bitter?  Just a touch. 

Not bitter.  Ok, maybe so.  It’s hard.  Like, it’s extremely fucking difficult for me and I don’t know that I can explain it well enough for anyone to understand.  **Side note:  My blueberry tea tastes like medicine this morning so boo for that too.**

So yeah, it’s been a difficult week for me.  Not only am I back as the ‘single girl’ of the group once again, but I also got written up at work Friday.  Seriously.  I wanted to respond with a giant ‘F YOU!’ and go out with guns blazing but the economy is shit so I just sat there and stared.  That’s always fun.

But my best friend, my only other single girl companion is paired off once again.  And then there was one. 

It’s killing me.  It really is.  She was my buffer.  The friend I could hang out with and just be two girls having a good time.  She made me feel like I wasn’t quite so single somehow.  We could share those occasional disappointments with each other and I just always knew there was someone there who knew what I was going through to some extent.  Not so much anymore.  Now we can’t spend 15 minutes together without the new guy being mentioned somehow.

Let me say, I don’t want to be this girl.  I don’t want to be bitter that I’m single.  I don’t want to be bitter that I’ve lost my buffer.  I want to be the friend that can sit and listen to her go on and on about how fantastic this guy is and how awesome he is in bed and how happy she is.  I want to be able to sit there and smile just as big as she does because I’m so happy my friend has this.  She deserves it, and I really mean that. 

But I’m not being that friend right now.  I don’t know if I ever can be while I’m in the situation I’m in because damnit, I deserve it too.  It makes me even sadder to be like this but I can’t sit and listen to how great he is without wondering where the great guy is for me.  I can’t listen to stories of things he does and says without thinking about how I felt when Playboy was “here” and did/said similar things, or wonder why I can’t find someone to say those things to me.  I can’t see her elated, brilliant smile without wishing I could have one of my own.

This week she began introducing him to the friends.  A group date.  Three couples.  And I wasn’t a part of that.  Because I’m not a couple. 

Last night was girls night and I probably said 5 words all night.  First they all traded boyfriend stories.  Well, I have none of those.  Then they traded sex stories.  None of those either.  And then it was on to kid stories.  You see the trend…none of those either.  It was painful for me.  Painful.  And to torture myself even more I spent my quiet time thinking about how my phone wasn’t ringing because Playboy wasn’t there anymore.

I sat in a room with my best friend last night when most of the girls had gone and there was tension.  Because she deserves me to be that friend who can genuinely smile and be interested in her new beau stories, and because I deserve that friend who understands that it hurts me and makes the choice not to talk about it.

This morning I woke up and while getting ready for work tears were streaming down my cheeks and I was screaming at nothing, at God, and at everything simultaneously because I don’t know what the hell else to do.  

It’s been 14 years and 2 months since I’ve been in a relationship.  14 years. And. 2 months.  One hundred and seventy months.  736 weeks.  My single life is in junior high.  They say God doesn’t give us more than we can handle but I’m starting to think maybe he has me mixed up with someone else.  I’m trying to make light of it, but it’s not light.  Not even a little bit.

I don’t have anyone.  There is no one on this planet who puts me first, and that includes me.  If I weren’t here anymore, I can’t think of one single person whose life would be dramatically affected by that. 

It all sucks.  I deserve to have someone to share my life with.  I deserve to fall asleep at night beside a man who loves me.  I deserve a shoulder to cry on when I need it.  I deserve to have someone to turn to when something breaks and have them take care of it for me on occasion.  Someone to laugh and play with, to kiss and make love to.  Someone to travel with, someone to go on group dates with.  I deserve a name instead of a + one.  Someone to buy gifts for during the holidays and on birthdays.

Maybe I don’t deserve it.  Maybe I just want it.  But everyone deserves to be loved, don’t they?  Why can’t I find mine?

In Due Time

I’ve been thinking this morning about timing in relation to my life recently.

Back before Playboy, I was chatting with the guy in England.  I really liked him but you know how things go.  Right as things ended with him Playboy showed up.  I wasn’t happy about it at first, I just wanted the English guy back around…but Playboy was there and it was a distraction for me.  Obviously things eventually grew into more than I ever expected, but he started out as a time filler.

When Playboy officially left honestly, there were at least 5 or 6 guys hanging around.  Granted with different levels of availability, but they were there.  They were all a good distraction.  So over the weekend I guess I found a little peace with things (No, I’m not happy about it; yes, it still hurts; and yes, I still want him to come back; but the incessant crying has dried up.  Maybe I’m even giving up the fight for him.).

This week I kind of look around me and the last guy that was hanging on has finally faded away.  No more distractions.  I’m all alone once again.

I’m not going to get sad about that right now, but I just thought it interesting how people pop up at certain times.  Some for years and some for just a little while.

The timing of it all seems so perfect.  It’s amazing, really.  Of course, it’d be nice not to need a distraction but I know I learned things from the situation with Playboy and I guess maybe that’s to get me ready for the guy who’s going to sweep me off my feet.

This weekend I looked at my situation and said, ‘Playboy’s gone but the next guy is coming and he’ll be even better’.  It was the first time I could say that without tearing up at the idea of not having Playboy anymore and it was the first time I could think about it with any level of excitement however small.

I just hope this next guy is the real thing and not another lesson.  I kind of feel like I’ve learned enough at this point, but you never know.

I need brain bleach, please.

I haven’t updated in two weeks now, not because nothing has happened, but because my mind has mutinied and is determined to slowly drive me insane.

Over the past two weeks there’s been some activity with all three guys I mentioned in my last post.  We’ve had a week of head smacks, a week of eye rolls, and now a week of roller coasters.

The guy who sent the duplicate email?  I’ll call him Dupe.  I responded with my contact info and he did text me.  We have had several ‘sessions’ of his text, my response, his text, my response, silence.  Frustrating?  Without a doubt.  And yet he apparently refuses to call and speak on the phone.  Probably needless to say but yeah, that got old pretty quickly.

The guy I chatted with on Messenger….I’ll call him Molasses because that’s about how quick he is doing stuff.  So after I wrote him off as gone, he hit me up on Messenger again and we chatted.  I think we ended up having another two or three conversations over a span of about a week.  This weekend he caught me online and Holy Hooker Heels, the man actually called my phone!  We talked for about 3 hours, mainly joking around and being silly.  It was nice.  But then he added me to his Facebook and I’m guessing the picture on his dating site profile is older….by about 4 or 5 years.  Or maybe it was a really good angle.  It’s not a deal breaker but I was somewhat put off by that.  We’ll see what happens though.  I haven’t written him off yet.

The old co-worker…ok well, I’ll just say it.  We’ve been hooking up.  Only twice but I know I’m not interested in anything more, so yeah it’s just a hook up.  Hey, a girl has needs.

So I’m about to be painfully honest here.  It’s not pretty and it’s not even a little smart, but it’s the truth.  I am hanging my head as I admit to you that I can’t stop thinking about Playboy lately – what we had, what we didn’t have due to his relationship, what we could’ve had if things had been different from the start, and worst of all, I think about him coming back to me and I want it.  Bad.  Sadly that’s not even the worst part because I also emailed him last week saying, ‘I miss you.  A lot.’  I know!  I know, I know, I know.  It’s only been about 5 weeks.

I was doing pretty well for a while.  I had stopped crying and tearing up, I’d stopped thinking about him as much…no more looking at my phone forlornly hoping it would ring every night, no more beating myself up about running yet another guy off, no more pity parties thinking about the fact that I will probably never find someone…  I really was doing good and I don’t know what changed, but that switch was flipped.

I was thinking about it over the weekend and I’m pretty sure that all these guys…I am using them all as a distraction.  I don’t want to be with any one of them right now.  Not one.  It’s sick but even though I’m not interested I let them stay there as a buffer between me and the loneliness.  Me and what was there before Playboy.  And to keep me from realizing Playboy’s not there anymore.

*Paging Dr. Phil….paging Dr. Phil…Code Red in the waiting room*

I would trade all 4 of the guys floating around to have Playboy.  Every single one of them.  It’s maybe one of the top 5 dumbest things I’ve ever said in my entire life.  Playboy doesn’t want me.  He doesn’t love me anymore.  He doesn’t miss me.  But God what I wouldn’t do to change all that.

So you see what I mean about my mind’s mutiny, and why I need brain bleach.  I am a glutton for punishment if I’ve ever seen one.

Sado-masochist, thy name is Myra22.

A song in my heart. :-)

Back years ago I had a carefree kind of humor….kind of silly, really.  Young and without care.  I did a lot of things without thought, just being me.  I spoke without thought, I laughed without thought, I was me…without thought.  It sounds simple enough but when I went through that hard time back when I was 18, it really sucked the life out of me.  I lost a lot of that carefree quality.  I knew then that I changed but I guess I assumed I just grew up.

That part of me has been gone a long time.  I have thought from time to time about how I used to write letters (the “emails” of days long past) to my friends and insert lyrics to songs, just being silly.  I think of days when it wasn’t so painful for me to open up to people.  When every interaction I had wasn’t overshadowed by the constant analysis going on in my brain.  Those were the good old days, when fear was found on a roller coaster or watching a scary movie.

Well, if you’ve read any of my previous posts, I’ve mentioned before that I have worked on letting go of some of those fears.  I’ve seen a lot of progress.  That constant analysis isn’t as prevalent as it once was.  Though still quite small, I can find a little trust for some people at times.  I have moments of being able to contribute to group conversations that I once wouldn’t have.  I’m certainly not outgoing, but at least I’m not always the wallflower cowering in the corner now.

I notice these changes and I’m quite proud of myself.  I was chatting with Playboy on the computer as I usually do.  There’s been a shift of some sort in our relationship recently.  I can’t pinpoint exactly when it changed or what caused the change, but there’s a new level of comfort there – I know on my part, but I think on his as well.  A new closeness.  Things are a lot smoother between us…easier.  We play and laugh a lot more.  The fears I have had that normally overpower me are a lot easier to control lately.  It’s still the same situation, but somehow I feel a lot safer with him in some way.  I feel miles closer to him and I know he’s seeing more of the real me than I’ve shown a guy in a loooooooong time.

Anyway, we’re talking and bantering back and forth joking around like we’ve been doing and then it happens.  I noticed he’d logged off as he sometimes does when he steps away from the computer.  A few minutes later I realized what I’d typed and what it actually meant.  I typed the words to Heartbreak Hotel…’Well since my baby left me, I found a new place to dwell.  It’s down at the end of Lonely Street at Heartbreak Hotel!’  I was being silly.  I was singing again.

…The song came back.  🙂

2nd place hurts.

Being a general sap, Valentine’s Day is that holiday I’d love to celebrate.  Not just because it’s Valentine’s…  I enjoy pretty much all holidays and days-to-acknowledge because I’m a sucker for any excuse to shower my loved ones with goodies that show I care.  Especially, as I’ve found recently, if I have a special man in my life.  Valentine’s, however, is usually pretty generic for me because I just never have anyone with whom to share my love – in the romantical sense, of course.

This year is slightly different in that, while I still don’t have anyone to celebrate with as I would like, I do have someone there in a part-time role which gives me just enough that I get all sentimental and hopeful for those professions of love and affection.  As it turns out, just enough to get my hopes up then have them crushed.  Awesome.

I am fully aware of where I stand in his life.  I’m pretty sure 2nd place is a bit of an exaggeration, but for the sake of this story, I’ll go with that.

I didn’t bother hoping for flowers or candies or teddy bears.  Honestly, that’s not really my style anyway.  I’m much more of a spend-time-with-me, show-me-how-you-feel kind of girl.  So from Playboy I only requested an email telling me how much he loooooooved me, and/or a text on Valentine’s Day.  No money required, just a little of your time and effort.  I can assure you, as I did him, it would have meant the world to me.  Look, this is a girl who is accustomed to getting nothing…there hasn’t been anyone filling that role in my life in a long time, so the smallest amounts of effort impress me.

I already knew he had a long weekend ahead of him, working.  I knew he would be super busy without much alone time and no computer.  So maybe I set myself up for disappointment on this one.  I didn’t realize how much disappointment until Friday…then Saturday…then Sunday…and then most of Monday passed without one peep out of him.  My heart broke a little more each day.

This morning I finally got to talk to him on the phone.  Unfortunately he called while I was at work so interruption after interruption, on top of my hurt feelings, and his general quiet attitude equaled conversation fail.  I wanted him to apologize for breaking my heart.  He didn’t, I’m assuming because he felt like he didn’t do anything wrong though he didn’t say as much out loud.

Maybe he didn’t.  I was fully aware of how busy he would be this weekend.  I shouldn’t have put so much into receiving something from him.  It doesn’t matter though.  Sometimes you don’t have to apologize for something you did or did not do…it’s ok to apologize for how someone feels.  Just say that’s why.  “I’m sorry you’re sad.  I wanted to text you, I thought about you.  I just couldn’t.”  That can’t be so hard, can it?

The whole weekend, and the quasi-conversation this morning was just fail.  Fail after fail after fail.  He did soften up after that non-apology and tell me he missed me and wanted to see me.  Of course, that’s more fail because I know he’s not going to do anything whatsoever to make that happen.  Unless she leaves for the weekend or a day or so, we’re not going to see each other.  It’s been a month and a half already.

When Playboy makes me feel like this…or not makes…when I feel like this because of something to do with him, I think about what I deserve out of life.  It’s certainly not 2nd place.  I’m a good catch.  I may be a little neurotic at times.  I may push too much for affection when I need it.  But damnit, I’m a good woman.  I’m fun, I’m cheerful, love to play.  Affectionate.  Don’t like to fight.  No drama.  I’m independent – financially and personally.  I just want to love and be loved.  It’s the only thing missing in my life.

I prayed very hard this weekend for someone to come along who can fill that role for me.  (I’ve prayed millions of prayers over the years and I’m still single, so I’m not holding out much hope anymore but whatever…)  I cried and I prayed.  I wish ideally for Playboy to be the man I need, but I feel like that’s not gonna happen no matter what I do…so if that can’t happen, I hope sometime soon a great guy comes along.  Someone that will appreciate what I have to offer, and who can offer me the same in return.  It’s hard to still have hope after all these years, but when he comes along, I hope Playboy finally realizes what he’s lost in me.  Because I’m better than someone’s 2nd place.

As I was typing this, he did apologize.  It was hard to finish because that made me feel better, but I wanted to stay true to what I was originally posting.  He could be that guy I’m looking for, if he’d just make the decision to be with me.  I’m sure it’s much more complicated on his end than I’m giving credit for, but I don’t see that.  This is what I want though.  I want my boy.