Cue the Friday night fight.
I think he may have mistaken me for one of those girls who gives a shit.
I don’t care what he was doing when he isn’t with me.
Ya, the whole ‘you are mine’ thing threw me off.
But don’t boys get possessive with their toys?
And a lot of this is on me.
I can’t remember jokes except not jokes.
Two guys walk into a bar, you think the second one would have seen it.
Maybe my inability to remember and regurgitate a punchline, other than like the one above is indicative of how I have been treated.
I know something funny happened but I can’t recall.
Like the Friday night fights. Didn’t ex hubby used to pick fights so he could r-u-n-n-o-f-t and blame it on me?
There it is, the punch and the line.
It’s not funny but it’s true.
And aren’t thieves the ones who lock their doors?
Wait, that isn’t right.
Methinks the mister doth protest too much. When the guilt surfaces and comes forth as anger.
Fuck, I’ve done it. Everyone has. Feel bad about something and throw a Mexican wrestling mask on it.
Let’s get ready to rumble.
I may have mentioned that I don’t know how to relationship. I don’t.
And that statement gets truer and truer by the day.
I asked you on our first date why you were single. Wish I hadn’t.
I always thought I would make such a spectacular army wife. Able to handle absences, I crave airport kisses and reunions, I write better than I speak.
But I was wrong.
I need you here and I am too scared to ask because of what happened with the last girl that asked.
I think that if I tell you I need more you will say ‘okay bye’.
If you love me let me goooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooh.
More like if you love me, let me know. I ain’t waiting around to find out and living on scraps anymore.
There was no love here.
Just an insurance policy called keeping Sarah’s pussy in my pocket because I am scared to be alone.
I wrote the above in the time called before.
Before my hand was forced and I was the one who had no choice but to say ‘okay bye’.
Before I knew he had been living with his girlfriend the entire time we were dating.
Everything explained by a girl I had never met and only knew of in a past tense. She is his present and we have no future. I don’t think we ever did. Another Peter Pan lost boy picking Wendy over Tinkerbelle.
Unlike the wee sprite, I won’t die from lack of attention, his wasn’t that good anyways unless I was with him and he was all in. That is now explained also.
I had him to myself on rare occasions. Very rare.
I knew there were other girls, like I know the sky is blue and that I will run out of milk once a week or so.
I didn’t let it bother me, instead taking the path of perseverance.
Which in retrospect looks like martyrdom for a bullshit cause.
Should I stay or should I go?
Personally? It is always a war when I am forced to ask myself that question.
I must have been in one of those conquering armies that managed to succeed in starving out some fortress, and eventually called it mine. That isn’t a victory really, conquering something by wearing it down to the point where they have no choice in there delirium, in their hunger and defeat.
But love isn’t supposed to be a war. The war is outside and I want to be safe, at home.
I sat in an empty parking lot last night and cried a lil bit as the sun finished setting.
I haven’t driven anywhere alone in ages and I needed it I guess. That safety and sanctuary of being self-contained and alone.
Peter Gabriel’s cover of Heroes came on and I sang loud and off key as my voice cracked and tears came.
I drove the rest of the way home and another song came on that took me back to another parking lot moment, but a really good one.
It reminded me, I get low sometimes.
But it doesn’t take much to get me high.
Talked to Gelfling last night.
Actually drove by Wolfling’s, the old house of Hulk and Giant’s street. Pulled over. Cried a bit. Contemplated talking to them, decided against it and then for some weird reason picked Gelfling out of my inbox. Probably because he is prone to vanishing mid conversation and I did want to handle this alone without exhuming the dead.
I wanted to deal with it on my own. Starve out my own doubt. Not go running backwards when my future gets upheaved. And honestly, Gelfling is the king of leaving me hanging so it seemed a safe bet he wouldn’t answer.
But he did.
I asked for him to say something nice, and in his, he surprised me, pleasantly.
But here’s the thing.
The vexing maddening thing that makes me want to scream and pull my hair out.
They never really fucking leave, but they don’t exactly stick around and love me either.