Left Behind

I keep finding things he left behind. Stupid shit: a foot peddle, a little kit with nothing in it but tiny square sliding panels, bearings he bought bit never used, a tire gauge… Odds and ends that he probably doesn’t need. There’s some little thing that he’d obviously welded when he was bored1 and some safety glasses. I want to put it all in a box and set it out. Instead I’m just leaving it all where I found it.  He won’t be back to collect it. It’s nothing to him.

I guess at some point I’ll either reuse or dispose of all of it. But I’m grieving in a really weird way. Usually I don’t keep trophies or memorabilia from relationships that don’t work out. When I broke it off with my first real love I didn’t so much as keep a picture. He meant nothing anymore and neither did his crap. Of course, after that I was single for 6 years, so there’s that. MyDude never meant nearly as much to me as this guy did. And yet I’m holding onto physical nonsense that was his. I don’t know why. It was only 5 months and we were terrible together. I should be glad I’m free again and live accordingly.

I went out with this other guy again. We watched the Cavs trounce the Warriors then we made out in my driveway again.  I’m not that into this guy, but it’s better than sitting with my own thoughts. He’s one of a few guys on my facebook that’s been vying for my attention. Except he didn’t make it obvious and I appreciated that. So there we were.

He wanted to see me last night, but I wasn’t having it. He texts me all day and I kind of like that. But when MyDude was working his magic at first he was texting me all the time. I’m beautiful, I’m smart, I turn him on, he can’t wait to see me. It’s all the same. I’m not impressed anymore. I wanted to watch tv and sleep. So that’s what I did. And he was ok with that. At least that’s how he seems. I don’t trust my intuition anymore.

I saw a meme that said don’t settle for the guy who gives you butterflies – go for the guy who makes you feel safe just by holding your hand. It made me so damned angry. That’s how I felt with MyDude at first. Like I’d met someone who would protect me. I never got butterflies with him. I never got breathless thinking about him or out-of-my-head remembering the taste of him. I just felt like I belonged with him. I can’t trust anyone – it’s not possible for me – but I wanted to. And, really, if he’d have told me he wanted me to himself? I’d have done that. Probably. I did it for TheMan, right? I can do that.

Doesn’t matter. Moving on.  I don’t have a good nickname for the love of my life. He was years before TheMan and totally different from him. That’s one thing that made me like TheMan. But MyDude is very much like that other guy. His demeanor, his size, his inner beauty. That was something I’d mentioned to my friends. I have always been looking for my Ex but without the temper. MyDude is not violent – something I kmow for a fact because if he was he’d have thrown me across a room a couple of times. Anyway, I was deeply in love with Bob. And he was in love with me. We were amazing and horrible and completely dysfunctional. But I loved Bob to my core. And no one has ever been able to get that close to me since. People to this day ask me about Bob because they can’t imagine that we don’t talk2. His girlfriend with whom he has a child? Hates me because he talked about us. We were crazy in love. I’ve been looking for just part of that relationship for 20 years. Since we broke up I’ve loved 2 other people – TheMan and MyDude. And I only loved TheMan superficially. A part of Bob became my ideal partner. I thought MyDude filled that ideal.

Maybe that’s why I’m having such a hard time with this breakup. I am hungry for a certain part of my relationship with Bob. I imagined MyDude fit a role and when it didn’t work that way? Boom! That doesn’t matter either in the long run. I’m just trying to figure myself out.

So, why am I airing this all out on my very public blog and not in a personal journal? I saw another blog of an addict.  He said writing publicly about what happened and his process was therapeutic to him. Like he was sharing himself with long-time friends. And maybe someone somewhere could relate. I’ve been blogging for a long time. This process has helped me immensely when I’ve done it in the past. It’s part of who I am. It’s part if my totally fucked up need to share myself with someone interested in knowing me. People in my real life have no idea who I am. I don’t show them more than 2 layers deep. I can go deeper with this blog. Writing this way helps calm the chaos in my head. Like I’m talking to someone. Reading this is voluntary so if you are reading that means something here is interesting to you. And that matters to me. Don’t worry. I don’t air all of the dirty laundry. Or even the clean laundry. Heh.

Hopefully soon the topic here will change to my adventures in a new city. I’m so anxious to begin again. New memories and new stories.

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

  1. Or maybe he’d had a purpose for it. []
  2. we do sometimes, but he became enraged when he saw pictures of MyDude and me on facebook. So I was forced to block him. 20 years later. []

I’m Ready, but My Brain is Not

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He told me once that he liked that I express myself through music. We were fighting at the time and I’d sent him some songs to express my feelings about it.  After that he sent me songs too. The songs he sent me were things like “Snuff” from Slipknot. Mostly warnings to me – don’t love me because I don’t love you.

Sometimes he’d tell me to listen to a particular love song. I could never tell, though, if it was for me or if he was thinking of someone else. The music both soothed and tormented me. I shared with him was my attempt to tell him what was going on in  my head.  I texted and spoke, too, but he really seemed receptive to the music. I don’t believe he thought of me when he listened to it, but I was pretty delusional throughout our relationship.

Listening to any of it now reminds me of him. That pisses me off to no end. Get out of my head already. Fuck, every part of my life was inflected. And it still hurts. I’m ready for my brain to stop seeing him everywhere. He doesn’t think of me at all – this was all easy for him. It’s time to let it go.

I’ve met a lot of guys through Facebook recently. They’re like vultures vying over the rotting corpse that was the lovable me. They friend request me and I’ve started to accept a requests1 and most of them are from men looking to get laid. They’ll message me some fucktarded ice breaker and I’ll block them from messenger. But sometimes they seem interesting and we chat.

I met up with one guy for a couple of beers, but it wasn’t a date. There was a whole group of people there and I was the new addition. It was fun that night. So I agreed to meet up again 2 nights ago. There were fewer people there, but I still had fun. He’s an interesting person and his friends are funny. I bought my own beer and refused the drink he bought for me. I didn’t want a date vibe. When it was time to go I let him drive me home2. When we got to my driveway I let him kiss me.

And he lit me up. He was very, very good at it. I stopped it when his hand went i to my bra. No, none of that. Not yet. I was done for the night. It was too much. I felt like I was cheating.

I told him goodnight and he was a complete gentleman about it. Later he texted and asked if he could come back. He told me what he wanted to do to me and I was so tempted. Instead I put my phone away and went to sleep. In the morning I replied that I’d fallen asleep but wouldn’t have let him come.over anyway. He said he liked that.

I tried to imagine what it would be like to finally expunge MyDude from my brain. I could just replace him with this other guy. Then I decided that was a bad plan. How is that fair to this guy? He’s probably a decent person and I was thinking about how he could be used to get another man out of my head. It’s a bad idea thought up by a fucked up brain. So when he asked to hang out last night I refused. I’m no good for any of that right now. I’m not in a place to engage in any of that.

Not to mention I fully intend to move away the second my house sells. I have no intention of staying in this town for anyone. And this guy is a lifer. He won’t move. So what would be the point?

I’m listening to music right now and my head is starting to hurt again. The easiest way to get over one man is to get under another, right? How’s that work when I don’t want to do any of that right now? Fuck my brain and fuck MyDude. Fuck all of this. I’m ready to be done. So wby can’t I be?

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

  1. I’ve made my Facebook public, because why the fuck not? Let the haters see. Let him see. []
  2. I walked to the bar. []

This Guy, Man

I’m starting this post while waiting ithe lobby at the courthouse. It’s our final pretrial hearing. TheMan doesn’t want to pay spousal support and I am not having it.

Not long after I filed for divorce my attorney asked me for bank statements. So I printed out the last 8 year’s worth1. As I was looking at them I realized something. That motherfucker had siphoned 10s of thousands of dollars over th e course of the marriage. And he was slick about it.

We had 2 bank accounts and every other day he’d take $20-30 out of mine and $40-60 out of his. He said it was for gas or something but he was using the debit cards for that. I was in tears by the time I was done highlighting. Tears of rage and hatred. He’d told me we were too broke for just about everything. I went without a lot of things because I thought we couldn’t afford stuff for me. And he was hiding money.

So, I refuse to back down on spousal support. Fuck it. He can pay up for a couple of years and help me get back on my feet. I’m about to lose my home, my health insurance and my car. He can get fucked by a flaming cactus.

Later:
He didn’t even bother to show today. Guess he had more pressing shit to do than appear at court. Whatever. We go for our final hearing June 15. The judge will decide if I get anything. I’m pretty sure I’m fucked2but I’m going to give it my best shot.

Also, I sent an apology letter to MyDude. I felt like after my period of self-reflection it was the best thing to do. Honestly, it was mostly something I needed to do for me. I’ll apologize one more time to someone else and that period of my life will be over. I know a lot more about myself now at any rate. I feel relieved in a way. Like a puzzle has been solved. And, no, I don’t want to reestablish any kind of communication with him. There is no need to reopen that door. Let the past stay behind me etc, etc.

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

  1. TheMan and I attempted to divorce once before. []
  2. I’ll explain why some other time. []

Selling My Home

I’ve been in this house 10 1/2 years. This is the longest I’d ever lived at one address. And now I have to go.

When I was young we moved a lot. I remember one place where we stayed probably 5 years. But after we lived there we moved about every year. We lived in the same neighborhood in Columbus until I was almost 11. Then we moves out to the middle of nowhere.

So we changed schools a bunch from 5th grade onward (for me). We were poor and my mother got evicted a lot. That made for a very unstable existence. We couldn’t even make friends because we moved so much and what was the point?

As such, when I grew to adulthood I continued to move a lot. I tried to keep Lil Miss in the same school district but she moved back and forth a few times.

After I married TheMan I moved one time. We sold his house and bought this one. So Lil’lady doesn’t know any other home. She’s never had to move because her parents owned her home and they were stable. Until now. Now we have to move. And we’ll probably move to a whole new city. All of the stability she’s known her entire life is gone. Poof! Because her father couldn’t have his affair in secret. He had to go and catch feelings for his side piece.

I have no idea where we’ll end up. Helping MyDude has fucked me financially for a minute. I’ll probably have to get another job and I’ve been where I’m at for 3 years. Everything just up in the air. And he wants me to feel sorry for him because he’s struggling with spousal and child support. Divorce is expensive. That’s why we agreed not to do it all those years ago.

It’ll be over very soon. I’ll be done being a missus. I’ll be a Ms and take back my maiden name. 15 years gone. Deleted from my life. Heh.

This house has a lot of memories. Memories of our family, the separation that began years ago, of fights, of happy kids running the stairs and, yes, of MyDude1. The memories of the last few years are very gray and depressing. This house reeks of misery. It’s overwhelming.

I’m ready to go. I’m ready to start fresh.

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

  1. Memories of him pop up everywhere. He kissed me there, we talked about this at this spot, I took him to lunch here. And everywhere on my property his ghost haunts me. []

I Question Everything

You made me question everything about myself

Before I met Lucifer I was a pretty spiritual person. I believed in my intuition. And I thought I could read people very well. Before Lucifer I was sure of certain things. I had a certain amount of confidence – even after everything TheMan did.

I used to be able to spot someone like Lucifer a mile away. Normally, I never would have given him more time than it took to have a night’s worth of fun. And that’s how I originally intended it to be. He actually convinced me to come back again. He talked me into wanting to see him. And then his life imploded. I got sucked in.

I thought there was a purpose to everything happening the way it did. I believed the gods were trying me. It was supposed to be Lucifer and me. They were forcing us together. He needed me – so it was obvious to me what purpose I served in his life. But I never figured out why he was in my life. This was a two-way street, right?

And I knew what he was doing at some point. I think when he let his baby’s mother call me. Then he begged me to take him back. I knew why then. Intellectually I knew what he was doing. But I let him anyway. I thought he loved me back in some weird way and there was a fucking reason for all this chaos. There had to be.

Why would I continue to let him use me like that if I wasn’t broken? He would tell me he loved me then two days later deny he loved me at all. He would tell me I made him the happiest he’d ever been then turn around and scream at me that I was trying to trap him with me. Was I? Why would I ever put up with any of that if I wasn’t completely bonkers?

That’s what he does. It’s how he operates and I fell for all of it. So now I am trying to put myself back together and can no longer pretend. I can’t imagine that I’ve ever been anything but a dupe. Except there was a time – before TheMan and Lucifer – that I would’ve walked away from after the first night. I lost that part of me somewhere. I need to find that again. I don’t want there to be a second Lucifer. And so I’ll be alone until I get myself back together. I question everything I know now. He took advantage of that and I let him. There was nothing healthy about that. So now I heal.

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.