Fiction is the Only Way You're Dealing

There was a diaper sitting on the top of my over-the-toilet shelf.  I saw it every single time I walked into the bathroom.  I finally threw it away, because he'll never be back here to wear it again.

There is a transformer in the glove box of my car that I discovered when I was changing out my insurance card.  I shut it quickly and will forget about it for the next six months, because he'll never ride in my car and play with it again.

While folding my socks yesterday afternoon, I came across a tiny sock.  Not mine, not Aiden's.  Out of frustration I threw it behind the couch, where it is still laying.  It has no mate, not where I live.  I will probably pick it up and throw it away the next time I vacuum.

Little pieces of them are still clinging to the little pieces left of me.  I find them in random places, cozy corners, in the songs I hear on the radio or the photos that I unexpectedly come across in my phone or iPod.  I hear about movies, and they come to mind.

Not just one, not just the other, but ALL of them. 

My heart doesn't just have one hole in it, but three.

I read and I write, and I sit alone in my room some nights and cry.  I disappear, and it still doesn't feel like enough.

I am okay, until suddenly I am not.

I am chasing down all that is good in my life.  I am surrounding myself with people who not only love me back, but don't invalidate the way I feel at any given moment.  That give as much as they get, if not more.  I have endless amounts of cuddles and forehead kisses, and people willing to sit with me so I don't have to do it alone.  

I know I'm not the broken one.  I know that I did everything I could and everything within my power to make this man love me, and it still wasn't enough.  But even though I'm not broken, and even though I'm able to force myself into moving on, into looking back fondly, because so much of it was good, and so little of it was bad; I am still the one with three gaping holes in my heart. 

It's always been so much easier for him to let go of me.

Sometimes you lose things, then you get them back.

My relationships over the years have been a series of "If you love it, let it go..." moments.  I have let them go, and none of them have ever come back.  Until now.

D and I started talking again on Christmas day.  It was a freak occurrence in which I messaged him a snarky reply to something he had posted on facebook, and he messaged me right back.  We ended up talking this way into the wee hours of the morning, even though he had to work early the next day.

Sometimes, you need to take a step back from a situation to see the good in it.  Sometimes, you have to walk away in order to understand the issues that were there.  Sometimes, you have to open your mouth and say exactly what it is you're thinking and feeling, regardless of who it might hurt or how it might make you look to other people.

We both made mistakes.  Nothing that was done was unforgivable.  I think the time apart may have been the best thing that could ever have happened to us at that point in time.  I was able to find myself, better myself, learn to love myself.  I am walking into whatever this may become with open eyes.

Sometimes, I can feel the universe shift a little, realign its course, set something into motion.

I never thought being able to kiss him again would be an option.  It makes my day to hear from him first thing in the morning.  It makes me smile to remember all of the good that was there, is still there, while being able to alter some of that bad crap into something more, better.


So I guess what I'm trying to say here is; I can't wait to see what this next chapter may bring.  I am excited for the endless possibilities, and for having a man back in my life who meant so much to me.


Sometimes, the things you stop chasing, end up finding you.

I never meant to let it get away from me.

I have written this blog about a hundred times in my head over the last two weeks.  In some instances, it is the sad, weeping "OMG I can't live without you."  Sometimes it is the pissed off "I HATE YOU!" blog entry.  Occasionally, I find myself being extremely mature and simply channelling Adele and saying "I wish nothing but the best for you."  In all actuality, I am feeling a little bit of all of those combined at any given time.

D and I broke things off two weeks ago yesterday.  I guess I should be honest and say that he broke things off.  In the last two weeks I have cried a lot, slept even less, and there were a couple of nights when I walked around my apartment, not knowing what to do, and feeling completely lost.  My apartment became my sanctuary.  It was just as messy as my brain was, and none of my pieces seemed to fit.  In the last two weeks I have taken a good long look at myself, and realized that even if I wasn't right for him, or any of the men I have thought I was right for in the past, that I am a good person, and I am right for SOMEONE.  It also made me take a step back and realize what I am looking for, more than anything else right now.

Companionship.  I want someone to hang out with.  Don't get me wrong, hanging out with Aiden every night during the week up until 7:30 is fun, and the biggest joy of my life, but I stay up way later than 7:30 most days.  There are hours up hours that are taken up by nothing.  I don't need a lover, even though a lover would be a bonus.  What I want is a best friend.  Even my best of friends have fallen by the side on this.  T goes out of town every weekend to visit her boyfriend, and even when he comes here, he doesn't like me so I don't get to see her then, either.  M works nights, and is busy with school.  My sister lives six hours away.  I want someone to cook dinner with, watch TV with, laugh and cry and tell jokes with.

I was never anyone but myself with D, flaws and all.  But once again, I'm told "it's not you, it's me."  How can you change something if you're not made aware of what there is to fix?

Losing him as my counterpart is only made more difficult by the fact that I fell deeply in love with his children.  I had picked out Christmas presents, and birthday presents.  I had made plans.  Aiden would tell me how he thought of them as his little brothers.  He would bring home writing assignments from school that were written about them.

The last night we spent together, I knew something was off.  Something didn't feel right, but I didn't want to be the overly paranoid girlfriend and say anything about it.  Unknown to him, until now, but I cried myself to sleep that night.  I listened to him get ready for work the next morning, pretending to be asleep.  I rolled over and kissed him goodbye when he was leaving, and I knew something had changed.  Even now, I don't even know what that something was.  I was suddenly not enough.

Someone never saying "I love you" to you is one thing.  To have them say "I don't love you." is so much more heartbreaking than never hearing the words could ever be. 

So here I am, sad and mad and frustrated and coping.  My last three relationships have ended, suddenly, and without my consent.  When did things in any relationships stop being about compromise?  That's what you do when you're with someone, you talk to them, you bounce ideas off of them, you tell them where they stand.  This is something that is endlessly confusing to me, especially because in each of these cases, everything was good until suddenly it wasn't.

I am going about my days.  I am self-medicating with exercise and red beers.  I am trying to read books I've wanted to read, and I am no longer living out of a suit case.  I have since cleaned my apartment and I'm no longer living in a pile of clean or dirty clothes.  The bills are paid, the bellies are full, and we are going to be okay.

I miss my friend, desperately.  I miss sitting on my balcony texting him long before I had ever heard his voice.  I miss telling him stories and having him tell me stories.  I miss him telling me that he thinks I'm beautiful, even though I never believed him.  I hate feeling like I've just become another notch on his headboard, another number he can talk about while drinking with his friends, or when he meets someone new.

I hate that I put so much into this, and now it feels like my relationship had been reduced to a shoebox full of little things. 

Was I ever anything more than that?

Have I found you, flightless bird?

I talked a couple of weeks ago about how hard dating is.  What I failed to understand at the time was that when someone truly special comes around, it's not.  It comes easily, like breathing.

I don't know what either of us had in mind when we started talking over six months ago, but I don't think it was ever initially thought to be anything more than an internet friendship, getting to know each other, and enjoying the other enough to continue with conversations over the weeks and months.

He was patient with me while my heart healed, I extended the same.  It wasn't until we started text messaging each other more frequently, seeking each other out through space on purpose rather than simply stumbling into each other.  The first night when he actually called me rather than shooting me a text, and I knew this could actually become something more.  We talked for over an hour.

He has allowed me to find myself and my happiness within by simply being there.  A shoulder to lean on, a sounding board to bounce ideas off of, someone to laugh with.  He GETS me in a way that not a lot of other people can, or have ever made the effort to.

He gives me goosebumps just from the simple act of tucking my hair behind my ear.  His gentleness endearing.   He'll stand behind me in the kitchen, kissing the base of my neck as I am cutting up chicken, or pouring myself a drink.  When I look into his eyes, I see myself as he sees me, and it's something new and fresh.  It makes me feel alive.

He is well traveled, has been places and done things.  He has loved intensely and lost, which doesn't seem like something to celebrate, but there are so many people in this world who haven't.  He is easy to talk to, quick to laugh, and above all else completely and utterly real.  This is how I see him, and how I want him to know I see him.

Living an hour apart so far isn't easy, but it's a lot easier than I thought it would be.  We both have busy lives and schedules and jobs, both of us single parents.

But I know that he's thinking of me when he wakes up in the morning, and for right now, that's really all I need.

Regrets and mistakes, they are memories made.

I am going to talk about something I'm not usually comfortable with putting out there in such broad terms as this, especially on the internet, but I'm attempting to break out of my comfort bubble here just a little bit.

Dating is HARD.

I have never really dated before.  Yes, I have had boyfriends.  I have been madly and deeply in love.  I have been obsessive and obnoxiously in love.  I have been mildly un-attracted to, but continued to remain with, a man who claimed he loved me.  I have loved men I shouldn't, went out with men my mother hated, and ditched friends for a man I thought I was supposed to be with forever.

However, I have never just dated.  Never went out with a different man on a different day of the week than the one I went out with two days previously. 

It's like constantly playing 20 questions with a new person.  Trying to keep all of the information straight, trying to remember what you've told one person about yourself that you haven't told another.  Do not get me wrong, I'm not dating half the town, but trying to keep everything straight is pretty taxing on this single working mother of one.

I have been taking a new dating approach than the one I had lived with in the past.  (Sulk around until a man shows interest in you, get giddy and clingy, eventually man runs away quickly in the other direction.)  I am also someone who tends to have fairly calm breakups and I have managed to remain friends with pretty much every boy in this world that I have laid my lips upon, other than two.  Now, I am simply being me.  Apologizing for nothing, and if they don't like me for who I am, than they're not worth it in the first place.

Since this dating adventure of mine began nearly two years ago, after spending over 6 years of my life totally and completely single, I have met men in every type and size and character.  I met a man who treated me how I should have been requiring men to treat me, but who I wasn't attracted to.  I met a man who was looking for someone to marry, and was WAY too young for me.  I went out with a man who was too cheap to buy two meals and made me split mine with him, and then made a lame joke about chopping me into pieces and putting them in his basement walls.  I dated for a short while, a man who was 13 years older than me.  I met a man who I believed to be "the one" who I quickly discovered was not in any place to be dating anyone, which broke my heart.  I met a farmer, a restaurant manager, a writer.  I met a student, and fathers, and hard workers.

I enjoy meeting new people.  I feel as though I'm at a place in my life where I have never been MORE myself.  I know who I am, I don't necessarily know what I want, but I do know the things I absolutely will not put up with.  I'm not looking for someone to fill some void in my life, because my life has no voids, it is complete right now, without a man in it (other than the shining star of a seven year old that lives in the next bedroom.)

Even with all of the stress of the last six months, I am at a very happy place right now.  My friends and my family continue to be terrific.  I'm enjoying my summer, and hoping that this one just may be the one where I'm finally lucky in love.  But who am I kidding?  Love is just in the movies, right?