Am I in love with you? Yeeeessss?
Do I want to be with you? No.
Do I love you? Yes.
Am I in love with you? Yeeeessss?
Do I want to be with you? No.
I've found that I explicitly trust the people with whom I do the most depraved things. Whereas, I don't have that with others.
They know me. The real me. They are not fearful of what it means to be like me becuase they already are.
We enjoy each other's company in our purest form.
They are mine.
Only a few days until Christmas.
I hope you have a Merry one.
Yes, even you.
I keep track of when I dated people based on what our fave song to fuck to was/is.
I can cross reference when that song was popular thereby giving me a rough time frame for when we were together.
Hi. I haven't seen you since 2008. How you doin?
Five years ago today I met the woman who would soon become my Step-wife.
I wasn’t planning to meet her that day, but she came to a play my kids were in with Xhusband – and upon the introduction I literally could not breathe. We had been divorced about 10 months.
In true NB fashion, I played it cool. I smiled. I shook hands.
I sat in the front row to get good pictures. They sat on the same row across the isle. My saving grace was that my dad was there that day. Dad and I are not close and he launched the nastiest divorce Houston’s north side had even seen at the time – the stuff of legend. Seriously, people still talk about it. So, he obviously knows how this stuff goes to some degree.
He was cool, too. He smiled. He shook hands.
The play started and I sat in the front row next to Dad. My camera was in my hands and I was facing forward, but I was frozen. Tears streamed quietly down my face. I was struggling to keep that smile. I knew Xhusband would find someone else one day, but I hadn’t thought about what it would be like to meet her.
At this point Dad, still facing forward, stretch his arm around my shoulders and squeezed my right shoulder as if to say “Hey, it’ll be ok. I’m here.” It helped. The tears stopped and I could focus on the kids, the play and taking pictures.
The next year, they got married and I have never been more thankful that I have a step-wife. My life would not be the same without her. She’s fun and funny and they seem to be truly in love. I am so happy they found each other. Most importantly, she loves my kids and they love her. And the most valuable thing she does for me is help Xhusband and I hear each other when we disagree - she moderates fairly and honestly.
We tell people we are one family in two houses and that is truly how we operate. We vacation together. We sit together at the kid’s games and go to school conferences all together. Even my Dad laughs at how well this has worked out. And I think back to his squeezing my shoulder. That’s all he did to tell me “things will be ok” and I was open to it. I mean, that's all one can do is be open to it. Otherwise you'll be miserable.
I saw something come across social media yesterday.
It stuck with me.
“You have to have courage to love somebody. Because you risk everything. Everything.” The quote is attributed to Maya Angelou but these days who knows if she really said that or not.
The words stuck with me because I’m am not courageous, apparently. And I know it.
It implies I can’t love somebody. I want to. But, I don’t think I can – not this way. Not in a way many people describe as “wholly, honestly, completely.”
As bad as it hurts to break up with someone without being so emotionally vulnerable, I can’t begin to think of how it feels to lose them when you’ve completely and totally bought in and turned over your heart to that relationship. It is risky.
Yes, I assume everyone will leave one day because no one has ever proven me wrong on that. No one goes into a relationship intending to leave, but...
I hate it, but I’m not willing to risk everything.
I tried to play it cool - like it didn't bother me - like I wasn't phased that he was leaving.
But when he hugged me I cried. I told him I'm happy for him, but that I'd miss him.
He held me tight and said softly "I love you, too. You can feel however you want to feel. I accept your humanity."
And somehow that made me feel a teeny, tiny, better.
My therapist often mentioned serendipity. She said that serendipity is when the universe brings good things to you by happy accidents and lucky encounters.
Today I was at the book store looking at the Classics. My eyes wandered over tomes such as “The Iliad,” “The Odyssey” and “The Histories.” Among the epics was a small pink book. The pink caught my eye first since the Classics were bound in navy, burgundy and gray. Then the title required me to pull it out and investigate - “Dirty Pretty Things” was beautifully scripted on the narrow spine.
The cover was light pink and felt like ultra suede. Soft and supple and smooth and I could wrap myself up in that material and take a nap on the beach - I have a thing for paper. The cover art was an interesting water color (my preferred medium) of a girl. She is sad.
I looked around to see if anyone had noticed what I had picked up. No one had. Why would they?
I opened and flipped through. Very short bursts of text centered and sometimes asymmetrical on one side of clean white pages. Poems. Statements. Questions. What is this?
I turn to the Introduction and as I read my face got hot, I felt butterflies in my stomach and I found it hard to breathe. This book is nothing more than the author penning his thoughts and memories about a past lover. When he explains the couple’s affinity for “The Little Prince” I thought “he is me” and I closed the book.
I looked hard at the book shelf. Why was this book here in this section among these big, old, monster-laden journeys? Perhaps because it’s his tragedy?
So many little things about this book spoke to me I felt it through my body. I knew I was supposed to find it and that nothing but a serendipitous chain of events got the book in front of me. And I was glad they had.
I’m not a book reader anymore so to find a book that literally compels me to take it home is a treat. The little pink book has already inspired and excited me. Thanks, serendipity.
2015 was a very good year – in spite of some really stressful things.
It was good because at the end of the day, I have my family, my country, my health and my God.
And with those things I can get through anything.
Telling myself that is actually what gets me through.
In my darkest days, I say it over and over and over.
It must work because I’m still here.
She will never tell you everything.