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.