the story of us part 3

When all is said and done, he asks me if because of his admission, he will lose me in his life.  I flirt with the fantasy that I will be strong enough to just walk away, but ultimately, I can't do it. I can hardly face him and I feel so fucking stupid for thinking that just because I love him, he’d be ready.  We walk home and share a really long hug and I have to leave before I completely turn to water.

Before running inside, I finally said I love you.  Not a perfect a moment to say it, but it was overwhelming me. I think he said it back.

Upstairs, I run to the bathroom to throw up. Was it my insides way of trying to go back in time, before he told me I wasn’t the one? or was it food poisoning? I felt momentary relief to be having such a violent physical reaction that matched what I was feeling inside. (I’m not bulemic or an emotional cutter, but now I get the appeal). 

I had a sleepless night of cleaning drawers, sweeping floors, crying, pacing my apartment,rereading old letters and texts, anything that proved he had felt it too and that I had blown it. There was a lesson in this that I needed to learn in order for me to feel gratitude instead of feeling defeated (My own little Elizabeth Gilbert BS moment). The minute I would turn off the TV to lay down, I would have to stand up again because the panic felt like drowning. I slept from 4:50am -5:56am. I spent the entire day falling apart at the bank, at Target, at work and on my bike. I couldn’t eat because I felt sick and I was afraid I would throw up again.  

I finally picked up the phone and called Aadam because I needed clarity. Yes, it’s the thing that you aren’t supposed to do when someone rejects you, but I had to know what would change. He told me what I needed to hear and I felt better and loved.

The part I can’t let go of is wanting one more night back in our old life to say goodbye. I want to roll over and see him sleeping, kiss his back and wrap my arms around him. I want to appreciate it and burn it into my mind while it’s happening, instead of taking him for granted. Will I ever fully appreciate what I have while it’s happening?  Or is the best I’ll ever have just a few fleeting moments here and there of absolute clarity.  

Love is often an out of body experience for me.  My mouth rarely reveals what is swimming through my brain when it’s needed most and that’s something I have to fix.

Relying mostly on my writing or my art to reveal what I’m truly feeling is only going to get me so far.

the story of us part 2

Months go by, and we keep in touch via the occasional text.  By this time, he has come out of the closet and moved out of his mothers house.  I am excited for him and after months of putting in off, we finally set up a time to see each other.   I am nervous, but when I see him I just feel happy.  He seems excited about all of the things happening in his life and I am relieved.  I felt attracted to him, but it wasn't exactly romantic or anything.  We talk about other guys in our lives and deep down I am jealous, although I have zero right to be and I want  to slap myself for being selfish again.  We end the night and agree to do it again soon.   Another couple months go by and for the first time in years, I am finally feeling like i am in a good place again.  We talk about why I did the things I did and as I am verbalizing my feelings, I realize how stupid my reasoning is.  None of us are ever going to meet a perfect person that meets everything on our checklist.  If him believing in Noah's Ark is the worst thing I can think of, I am just being an asshole who deserves to be alone the rest of his life.  (And before you get crazy about the negative parts of religion, it also has it's positives.  Aadam is the sweetest, most generous and forgiving guy I have ever met and a lot of that has to do with his faith, so I absolutely cannot fault religion or him).  We end up holding hands in an alleyway and I feel blood pulsing in my veins again. The emotional chemistry has matched the physical, and it’s heady. The more we meet, the more I begin feeling something deeper and bigger than I had felt before and I am no longer confused. We end the night with hugs and kisses, (like you might do when you were a teenager) and I feel happy to have him back in my life.   Last week, when he dropped me off, I felt the words "I LOVE YOU" in my head.  I didn't say it, but I knew it was building.

I began to think about us before bedtime  and first thing when I woke up and I am sort of shocked to be feeling the way that I do. He, on the other hand has expressed his fear of dating me, and given our track record, I can't blame him. Stupidly, I just assume I will show him how I have changed and that it will just work itself out. Hindsight has shown me that Aadam, in one form or the other, has been the best thing to happen to me in the last two years and I just expect a happy ending. 

We agreed to meet for dinner last night and when I get there, I can feel the distance.  He has a way of saying certain things and awkwardly smiling that feels like little dominos being stood up, just to be tapped over.  He starts telling me how special I am and how much he likes me and has from the first time we met, but his insides are keeping him from being able to choose me. Meanwhile, I am telling myself  "Oh God, it's happening, he doesn't have faith in me".  As much as I usually prepare myself for this, in this case, I hadn't. To begin the end, he pulled out a quote from Eat Pray Love about soul mates.

"A true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you

everything that’s holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life.  A true soul mate is probably the most important person you’ll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake.  But to live with a soul mate forever.  Nah.  Too painful. Soul mates, they come into your life just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then they leave.  And thank God for it."

And while I get why people quote this sort of thing, I wanted his words, not some Elizabeth Gilbert bestselling BS about what's been true for her.  I knew what was coming next and  for a second, felt mad at God for not telling Aadam to choose me.  Clearly I was grasping. I felt humiliated and generic and I was getting a taste of the bitter medicine I had fed him many months ago. I am absolutely positive he wasn't trying to hurt me, but how could I not be leveled?

to be continued..

the story of us pt. 1

I know I have to write about Aadam, and I am not sure why I haven't before.  I think that deep down, I never truly understood the trajectory of our relationship or where it was headed, so I just kept waiting for the right time.   I'm finally ready.

I met Aadam two Octobers ago, about two weeks after I had moved out of the home I had shared with Richard.  I was emotionally numb and unavailable, but I needed someone to help fill the giant void left behind in the wake of another failed relationship. As tragic as it is to admit this, being wanted was the only thing that kept me afloat and numb. I was so fucking overwhelmed and scared about my new life.  Having spent the last five years in a sexless relationship, I needed physical intimacy.  It was only meant to be casual, and I made that crystal clear, but I could always tell Aadam felt something bigger than I wanted him too.  A week after we had met, he sent a sweet card in the mail saying he respected my emotional limitations, but that he would always be there for me. (Looking back, I love, love, love that card, but at the time it scared the shit out of me).  I immediately started finding ways to back away and to stay detached.  I felt unbearable guilt, but I had been honest the entire time so some of it was on him too.  In the back of my mind I knew that not only was he living at home, he was in the closet and deeply religious.  Even if I had been open,  I couldn't imagine it ever really working out.  

After about a year of avoiding Aadam's feelings and what I knew deep down he wanted , I told him  that I was not able to commit (and even worse, it was over a facebook IM). Deep down, I had just felt he wasn't the one.  I didn't want to hurt him, although of course I just had.  I was still in the haze of my own selfishness, so I didn't even fully appreciate what I had done to him. (At this point I was still jumping on a plane to LA every time I felt overwhelmed, or lonely, or needy. I wasn't exactly processing my feelings in healthy way). I was trying to be a responsible person, but in hindsight, I was a wrecking ball.

(Writing this now (when  I am a little more connected to my feelings)  destroys me).

in dreams

I forgot to turn the air on before I fell back asleep.  I am not sure if it was my sweating that made me dream you were lying next to me, or if it was my heart needing to feel you again. I woke up damp, with the feeling I had been punched in the gut.  You are gone. Three words that have terrified me since I was a kid. 

I licked my arm to taste the salt and tried to remember what you tasted like, but I can’t.  I no longer see a big picture or a complete story, just little flashes.  All that's complete is what I have written. I contemplate hitting the delete key, wondering what any of this means to me now.  Often, rereading it makes me feel warm, other times it feels like being hacked with a knife. I want to judge myself for being such an emo.

I’ve tapped into why I needed you only to realize that I no longer do.  Coming to me in dreams about salted skin and swampy hair reminds me of why it didn’t work rather than fill me with desire.  Restraints come loose in dreams and I won’t pretend some of you isn’t still in me, but I no longer worry that you will always haunt me.

I laid in the sun watching the sea lions sunbathe on the fishermans wharf.  After their mass exodus to the north last fall, they have begun to return. Fat glistening bodies, thick skinned and golden, tangles of coarse hair sticking out various places (reminding me of the one hair that grows on my left ribcage that is totally ridiculous) barking like dogs and showing tusks before lumbering into the cold, shark infested water and swimming away.

It's an isolating sensation to feel so connected to another animal, to a magical moment, only to watch it slip away into another world you will never inhabit.  (Not for fear or a lack of desire, but because I lack flippers and blubber).  

I am obsessed with the noises pigeons make when they are about to take flight. A cooing, an awkward flapping, an ache, an audible burst of intense effort.  There is nothing agile or swift about it, and maybe that's why it moves me.   

(I can really only ever imagine spending my life with a workhorse, never a show pony).

sourcing

I came across something I had written when I ended my last relationship almost two years ago.   I was trying to figure out when exactly I had become afraid of falling in love, and I think I have found my answer.  Even now, I still wonder what I could/should have done to fix it. 

I am struck by the heaviness of the salted air. (it feels like a gentle suffocation) I walked over to my open window, hoping to get lost in the sounds but it only dug me deeper into the rut of myself and the reasons why I had hopped on a plane so last minute.  You can never really escape yourself or replace loneliness with adventure.  Shouldn't I have already figured this out?

I feel as though I am slowly dissolving.  (My self portrait consists of a glass of water and an alka-seltzer tablet).  I broke the life we spent the last 10 years building and I feel the enormity of that and it's too much for me to really absorb how quickly it will all disappear.  I can't figure out if this is how it is supposed to feel, if something's wrong with me or if I've just made a huge mistake.  

Our lives together were no longer working, on any level. We were ignoring each other, not having sex, doing anything to get out of the house, etc.   And even when we tried to reconnect, we couldn't... it was too far gone. I can handle feeling ignored, but what I couldn't take was the extreme boredom that washed over our lives. If losing my father taught me anything, it's that life is way too short and I could no longer be so cavalier about the passing years presiding over our disintegration.

When you spend so much of your life with someone else, you know exactly how they will react, what they are thinking/feeling and it's paralyzing realizing how deeply you have hurt them.  You know exactly what they are going through, almost feeling that before you experience your own feelings (a phantom heart).  I had stuck it out just to avoid hurting someone I loved so much.

I keep looking at the blank canvases in the corner, but I am too afraid to paint.  I know I will paint a monster, something tortured and ugly and frankly, I don't want to look at that right now and I don't want to remember this that way. My art doesn't feel like a release, it feels like someone pointing the finger angrily at me.

I have been watching the clock, waiting to feel better, hoping it's jet lag.  Although it's digital, I can still hear a ticking and it's maddening.   I want to crawl into the sea and be healed, but I have no energy to swim back out and that terrifies me further.  These last few weeks have been a landslide, watching everything I love crumble away, and I've become afraid of moving.

If I had it to do all over again, I am not even sure that I could.

the final chapter of a mediocre love story.

The weather yesterday was like something concocted in a cauldron, called forth by a wiccan high priestess.  It was insanely windy, cool, dark with a spattering of rain mixed in. it had been a long day, so I took a hot bath, put on my pajama's, lit some (well, a lot) of candles and crawled into bed with a glass of wine, Fleetwood Mac and a book.  My windows were shaking (I had never properly put them back together when I removed the air conditioner last fall)  so I opened them a crack. Instantly half of the candles blew out and the room suddenly felt haunted.  It was electric.  I was about to get up and relight them when the phone goes off. I knew instinctively it was dan. A month will go by and I still know when it's him.  Our last conversation consisted of me telling him "this ship has sailed" and that I had moved on.  

"how are you?"

"well, you?"

"well too.  should we hang out soon?"

"I don't know, should we?"

"I think so, yes. ;)"

"It's always on your terms, and in all honesty, I am just not feeling the one sided nature of things."

"I understand, I really do.  this is no excuse but I've been traveling a lot... work sucks. I'm moving, building a house,... just a lot going on. There isn't a magic reason why I haven't been available, but it's been tough."

"when/where are you moving?"

"st.louis, three weeks."

and I should add that at this point I felt like he had punched me in the stomach.  His building overlooks mine and I always have this hope that we will bump into each other on the sidewalk, some day when I am looking impossibly good.  But now, that building will just be a reminder, instead of possibility.  I felt heart broken.

"well, then we should probably have one last really good go at it before I never see you again."

"your call. ;)"

"I'll text you next week."

"ok, goodnight."

And just like that, the cool reserve I had planned to maintain has melted away and I am feeling the sweetest things and experiencing the lust of a teenage boy even though I know this will not end well.  

The trees outside are exploding into dense, perfumed clouds of pink and red. It's as violent and extreme as any birth and breathtaking.  
The fog of all the things that haunted me all season has lifted, and I feel relief. It's been hard to find clarity in the haze of winters hibernation. When everything is dead and grey outside, I crave little indoor fires and when there is isn't one, I spend too much time trying to create one.  Fun turns into need and that's where I get lost.  I am not about to ruin my limited dance with warm weather, trying to worry about boys. 
Besides, I have a love affair with my electra ticino bike to tend to.(and I wont have to worry about him calling me late at night to tell me he's leaving me for someone else)

migration patterns

Today was the first day in months I didn't wake up to crows hovering outside my windows.  I walked over to the park to see if they were still there, but they were indeed gone. In the beginning, I wanted to walk outside with a shotgun just to get them to shut the fuck up, but lately, I had started looking forward to the noisy swarm.  They really were extraordinary.  Their moving on probably means that I need to do the same.


It's been hard to shake Dan. It's a bit like when you break a mug or something you love too much to throw away, so you glue it back together... but you know that it is still broken and it bothers you every time you use it.  It's just not the same and it can't be.  Truthfully, It's hard to give up moments of him crawling into my bed, pulling me close to him, whispering in my ear about wanting to make me happy.  I realize it's mostly smoke and mirrors, but he is just so beautiful and intense and nothing about him is perfect, and that makes me feel such relief.  He's in my guts, but I am realizing it's time for it to be over.  


Like so many others, I may run into him years from now (when we have both moved on) and we will smile and be all awkward and whatever this is, will be gone. I will get quiet and all soft again, haunted by memories of crows, a million candles and the puddles his shoes left on my floor for two confusing winters.

back at it

A murder of crows woke us up this morning, having lulled us to sleep just hours before.  This year has been an epic winter for black birds.  When I was a kid, I remember an entire summer of giant black crows taking over my small town.  The newspapers warned parents to keep small children and pets inside because of the threat of attack. I mean, they were giant, but they never attacked me or anyone I knew.  I used to sneak out after dinner and sit under any tree that was filled with them. Even as a boy, I loved the idea of tempting disaster and the satisfying thought that I might be attacked. I felt alive.


Fall was unseasonably warm so the crows never left and they have been swarming my neighborhood all night for months.  The snow covered park looks black at night because of all the thousands of shiny black bodies hovering in the trees. (when I have shown people, they actually gasp). It looks like the set of a Stevie Nicks video.


In a moment of weakness, I invited dan over after a late night text from him. I had been lying in bed thinking about birds when "do you hate me?" popped up on my phone. I have spent the last couple of months avoiding his calls and texts, but I wanted to feel it again. He asked me if I needed an explanation or  a reason for our "break up", but I didn't and that was the truth. I knew that it made me feel bad, but it wasn't something I necessarily needed clarity on. I don't want him to be my forever, but I still want to see him as much as I can. He's exciting and he makes me nervous and it's been far too long since someone has affected me this way. 


He whispered into my ear that he loved me, which I ignored.  So he kept saying it until I changed the subject. He doesn't love me, not even close, and I am certain of that.  I fell asleep to him whispering in my ear and holding my hand and I smelled like him and I felt so warm. I didn't even want to remove his water glass from my night stand because I like seeing that he was here.  I hate that I am not ready to lose him.
I know he will eventually leave and probably even move out of state by Fall, but who knows, maybe it will be unseasonably warm and he will decide to stay another Winter.

skipping the first act

do you ever feel like you just want to be lovers with someone, immediately?  Skip the first dates, the awkward silences, and the games you intend not to play (but still do), in hopes that someone will find you interesting and lovable? I have been feeling way too impatient to start over, which is terrible, so what options am I left with?
Is it totally inappropriate to have a date start in the bedroom, and then afterwards, engage in the sweetest pillow talk and then make plans to have dinner or drinks or even order in and just eat in bed? Or better yet, go out for an organic breakfast after making out and listening to records all morning! Or is it better to wonder about the sexual chemistry and prolong everything just to pretend you aren't a total whore?  
There is this scene in Broken English when Parker Posey and that french guy just become lovers, and truly intimate, and they lose each other only to find each other again on a train in Paris. Sign me up for that, and not some shitty first date that feels like a job interview (and I know they aren't all like that, but lately, it seems to be that way for me).
Anyways, this is the sort of thing I am thinking about while watching the snow fly outside my 4rth floor window this morning.  The sky is falling and I am finally coming to terms with my genuine fear of being alone/ letting someone down/ being hurt, so I am only thinking about the fun part.

"drink up baby, look at the stars"

It's pouring rain in Los Angeles tonight after an afternoon of intense anticipation. The paper lanterns and origami birds in the trees have begun to bleed their painted on color and the candles are making that hissing noise I love.  It's a mess and everyone has decided to run inside or back to their cars. 
You are still and looking at me, and somehow in the melee I have caught you. Why hadn't I noticed you before?  I grab my friends abandoned cigarettes (I always crave a cigarette when something seems french, cinematic, or too big) and although the filter is  damp, it lights. You are smirking and I smile back,  but I quickly look away and exhale (I like being watched when I am happy). I am hearing Elliott Smith songs in my head and my heartbeat quickens, wishing I would rust and get frozen in this heartbreakingly perfect moment rather than ruin this with awkward introductions, explanations and nervous laughter. You look as if you are about to say something and instead of letting you, I run after my friends without looking back. 
I don't live here, I don't even know if you are gay, and I don't want to stare at my phone wondering if you will call while I am still in town.  As much as I want  to fall in love in the pouring rain, I no longer believe you can make something work just because you want it to. The ghosts of everyone I have ever loved still float around me.

RIP JD Salinger

I could never put it into words, so I won't.... but it wont feel the same without you.

my sunday Jan 17.2010

I felt especially happy, so I prepared a bowl of steaming noodles with green onions, miso broth, shattered peanuts and bean sprouts.  I like how plain but meaningful this meal has become to me. (thanks in large part to the films of Ron kar wai and a small cafe in Paris)  Few things make me as happy as sitting on my floor, in front of the speakers,  daydreaming and eating steaming bowls of noodles.  As I was winding the noodles around my chopsticks, my phone beeps, and after two months in absentia, it's you (waterworks).  Of fucking course it is. I had only started not thinking about you just two days before so it's only logical you  should reappear.
"hey.  What's up?"
"I just got home, listening to music"
"we should hang"
"LOL!"
"No?"
"It's just funny how you appear out of nowhere, expecting to hang out"
"It was a break I guess."
"Listen Dan, I am not going to be angry or anything equally as stupid, but the way you left last time left me feeling pretty shitty."
"And I always wanted to tell you that I would never try to out you.. I know you worry about that."
"Thanks. I still want to talk sometime though."

and that was that. No satisfaction about his return,  just loneliness. (wasn't I just feeling like a japanese movie star just moments before?)  That's the confusing thing, just when I think I have actually turned a corner, I realize I am just walking around the same block.
I would be lying if I said I wasn't wanting to see him again or that I didn't know he would come back, but I already know how this ends and I'm not sure I am willing to go there again.  I mean, I have kicked myself a million times for things I should have said, asked, done... but I had hoped this hindsight might make me better for someone else, not him.   But now I have the opportunity to see that face again, and it's trumping my common sense.
I wish I could quit you.

my guts/motivations/inner workings/ neuroses

I am constantly thinking about the water and boats and sailing away.

my heroes/people who inspire me: Rei Kawakubo, JD salinger, Little Edie Beale, Nan Goldin, Gore Vidal, Wong Kar Wai, the pastry chef at La Duree, my mother, the guy at the bar who pulled my aside when I was 21 and warned me that one day I will be invisible too, Amy and David sederis, Sandra Bernhard and my crazy old neighbor (who always dresses up, even to take out the trash).

I have an insane sense of childlike adventure and very few things freak me out besides infinity.

Jukeboxes fascinate and destroy me (depending on selection of course).

It's my nature to cheer for the underdog almost always.

I crack myself up so much and that can be annoying to others, I'm sure.

When I am doing housework, I will ask myself questions about current events... and then answer my own questions!!

I can be all or nothing aka hot/cold, aka a total fucking nightmare.

People who need constant validation and attention bore the fuck out of me and make me nervous.

I have a strong desire to be surrounded by good manners but I love, love , love a foul mouth.

I am not always sure what part of my memory is real and what part is an invention. So many things I have dreamed into being, just to feel okay.(Equal parts comforting and embarrassing)

I never wonder about space travel, although I attach meaning to almost every full moon or falling star.

Attending catholic school made me believe that my thoughts were either the devil or god communicating with me. I used to constantly apologize for my thoughts via my thoughts. (Maybe that's where I learned to hold it in).

I don't always feel things as they happen (unless it's in the water or it's music). Often times it takes me a few hours to catch up to how happy something/someone has made me.

People who cannot eat with a knife and fork at the same time break my heart a little bit. 

A good chef always brings tears to my eyes.

I always rub dirt on new shoes before I wear them just to avoid people asking if I bought new shoes.  wtf?

I could eat a million pieces of cake. In fact, I think I would prefer to skip a party all together and just be alone with the cake. (sad, really).

I am easily smothered by people with the best intentions and that frustrates me.

I am obsessed with clean sheets and towels. (High end hotels with crisp sheets and huge fluffy towels are basically my idea of porn).

I can't leave the house messy, and when I have tried, I always have to turn back to clean. It sort of sucks.

I don't like eating food that came from a kitchen with kids in it and if you ever tell me that your child help make something you want me to eat, I definitely will not be eating it.  Kids always sneak in a nose/butt/crotch/ear/head picking when you aren't looking, (trust me).

I hate straws and sweaty plastic cups so don't look at me all weird when I order my iced coffee in a paper cup.

I don't like high definition It just makes people look like shit.

If a movie is marketed to lonely, desperate women hoping for a happy ending, I will probably, almost always, love it.

bad dates

I am sorry for the long gap between posting.  I had been feeling blue (see "waterworks") and with the holidays, freezing cold, etc.  I have just been feeling uninspired. On top of that, for the first time in 13 years, I went on a bad date.

"B"  was back in town from LA and I had decided we should see 'Up in the Air'.  I remembered hearing that it was somewhat of a feel good film and I thought the whole George Clooney thing might put me in a more romantic mood.  I really wanted to see Precious, but it seemed a bit much for a first date.
Anyways, "B" is computer tech and I have always had a thing for nerds or  that geek chic look and I thought this would be fun.  I was dating outside my typical "box" and felt good about it.

Unfortunately, he talked loudly the entire time leading up to the opening scene, and as soon it was over, proclaimed "I knew that's what would happen!"   I felt stupid that I didn't know that's what would happen.  This wasn't going well.

I suggested we go to a french bistro I love around the corner from the theater for a drink.  He has the server describe the specials twice.  He settles on  the chicken, which is the plat du jour. I decided on the risotto (sometimes it's just best to order something really easy to eat to avoid something catastrophic happening).

He can't seem to figure out what the white vegetable is on his plate, even though the waitress has already explained the dish, twice.  Had he actually listened, he would know they were turnips.   I said " I am pretty sure they are turnips".  He doesn't think so, and keeps wondering aloud what they could be. He puts them in his mouth, rolls them around, and looks confused.   At this point, I am positively having an awful time and I am fantasizing about strangling him.  Even the wine isn't helping.

His stories are so painstakingly long that I have to stop him in the middle to tell him that I am confused by what he is even talking about.  He seems to  think it's cute that I can't seem to follow him.   He then explains that he is very precise with his communication skills because he works with people who are easily confused.   It's ironic he should say it in that way.   Anyways,  he isn't hearing a word I say, even when I explain that his idea of communication is actually giving me a headache. He just smiles and keeps talking..... about nothing.
Needless to say I won't be seeing him again and I don't have anything sweet to write.  I have tried, trust me.
Having gotten out of a 10 year relationship 1 1/2 years ago, I have been out of the dating pool a long time and it isn't nearly as fun as I remember.   But this is the year I am going to put myself out there again and open myself up to the possibility being in love again.   I am optimistic.
keep your fingers crossed.
xoxo,
jeffrey

sexting (yes, I really have an entry called sexting and I am embarrassed for myself)

I know,  sexting is pretty ridiculous, so please forgive this forthcoming, shameful admission. 


I  recently made a pact to marry a certain handsome bachelor if we were unable to find someone interesting in the next few years. Rather than  pick a cutoff age, we will rely on what instinctively feels too old to go on any further alone (and yes, I am getting close to that). It was the sort of silly late night conversation that seems ridiculous in the morning, but all of our conversations are like that. We don't exactly talk about health care reform or anything of real importance and although we are perfectly capable, it's just not our glue.


Anyways, I am at the gym for the first time in days, doing curls, when my iphone beeps.  (I always get afraid of being too excited about my beeping phone. It could be gilt.com, ebay, ATT, etc. but still, that part of me that gets excited about the possibility hasn't died yet, regardless of how many times I have been tricked)  So it beeps and  it's him,  and the message says. "I can't believe we are engaged!"  and it's silly and childish, but it's  a distraction from my recently heavy heart ( and I love it when boys think of me out of nowhere) , so I play along.
After an hour of banter I text "I have to jump in the shower and get to work"  which inspired him to type  "my pants are getting tighter!" and just like that, I am happy.  Isn't that the stupidest, my pants are getting tighter makes me feel light and happy for the first time in days.


I know it will probably never go anywhere, but on a day like today, with the week I have had, it's embarrassing to confess that a little harmless sexting goes a long way.

waterworks

My shower sprung a leak tonight. A bolt that fit all these years, this evening, was completely incapable of containing the flow of water.  Regardless of how I manipulated  and adjusted it, nothing seemed to work and the water still shot out like a geyser.  How does something so simple become like advanced sudoku out of nowhere?
I was standing there in frustration when the phone rings in the next room, and I am surprised to see your name on the caller ID. It seems you have "sorta started dating someone else" but not to worry, "I am a great guy and you will miss seeing my eyes". (It's these compliments at the end that get me the most, like some shitty consolation prize).
I look around my room, and I can still feel all of the hours we spent in there and the ghosts of our year long, late night, mid week conversations. Everything reminds me of you and I wonder how it got this far. You've never made me laugh or want to meet your parents, but that face, your face, is the sweetest I have seen and I hate the thought of not seeing it anymore. My empty bed looks cruel and I fall asleep in a panic and in tears. Water is everywhere and it's an inescapable reality given my lack of skill at fixing leaks.
This wasn't how I imagined our demise...me in my soaked boxers and tshirt, holding a phone and a wrench, listening to you tell me about someone else who makes you happy. 
Can we just put a nail in this year already, please?