Seven years later, I love him like crazy.
Seven years ago today, I was 19 years old.
Seven years ago today, I ate dinner at Denny’s with an old friend and his roommate, who was quickly becoming a new friend.
Seven years ago today, I decided not to leave after I was done hanging out with my friend.
Seven years ago today, I decided to stay and hang out with his roommate instead.
Seven years ago today, we listened to Led Zeppelin IV.
Seven years ago today, the room was bathed in a glowing purple light, though you still swear the light was white, not purple.
Seven years ago today, you got high, and I did not.
Seven years ago today, we eventually laid down on the bed to talk.
(Seven years ago today, I couldn’t tell you the difference between lie/lay/laid. I still can’t.)
Seven years ago today, the talking lasted for hours.
Seven years ago today, I suddenly realized that it was 5:00 in the morning.
Seven years ago today, I left before anything could happen. I think you may have seen my boobs though.
Seven years ago today, if you hadn’t gotten up to go to the bathroom, and I hadn’t looked at the clock, we both knew what would have happened next.
Seven years ago today, we shared something special, though it would be months before we figured out what that was.
Seven years ago today, I never would have imagined what that night would eventually lead to.
Seven years ago today, I spent my first night with the love of my life.
Probably not the first time this has happened…
Home alone, I just sensed danger and stepped OUT of the shower (left the water running to, um, fool the intruder?), quickly looked around for the most deadly weapon I could find, grabbed said bottle of Tilex Mildew Remover, and crept around the quiet house, cupping one hand behind my back in an attempt to catch my hair drip. As you might expect, there was no one to be found. Paranoid, much?
Dear Lucy, part one
Dear Lucy,
I was never crazy about you. You came into my life after a month of problems and extreme frustrations, and you were supposed to make everything better. I thought that you would make me happy, but I knew, even before you came home with me, that you weren’t the solution. But, at that point, what could I do? It seemed too late to change my mind. There was someplace I needed to be, and I didn’t feel like I had the right to voice my concerns. J wasn’t around. If he hadn’t had a business luncheon that fateful day, you may have never been more than a blip on my radar. As it turns out, we were to spend the next six-and-a-half years battling one another.
It wasn’t all bad. What you lacked in beauty and style, you made up for in reliability. Sure, you weren’t as cool as Rexie, but you were a hell of a lot better than Kyle. Shoot, who am I kidding? Kyle was my first, and I’ll always love him for what he was, for what he gave me. But you know what? Kyle was a goddamn bitch towards the end, and I wasn’t sad to see him go. It was time. Too bad Rexie didn’t work out. So what if she scratched up all my best shoes? Who cares about the trouble she caused? Well, okay, 19-year-old me cared a great deal, obviously. But as time went on, as you and I started getting into it, I longed to have Rexie back.
I hated your color, the way you clashed with everything. I hated your body. I hated the way you looked so frumpy compared to Sexy Rexie. I hated your name, even though I was the one who gave it to you, even though it was (and remains) one of my favorite names. I hated your lack of buttons, your lack of power anything, your complete and utter lack of coolness. It was like I could hear Rexie in the back of my head, taunting me. “This is why you left me?” she would ask, “This is what you traded me in for after only a month together? You hardly gave me a chance! Was it worth it?”
As it turned out, it was not.
to be continued…
All for him. Well, and me too.
I’m on my laptop, stretched across the bed, and J is asleep beside me. We were watching Coupling about an hour ago, but now he’s asleep and I can’t stop staring at him and smiling. God, do I love that man.
I like to kiss him while he’s sleeping, to gently touch those places on his face that are too sensitive to touch while he’s awake. I trace his tattoos and run my hand down the muscles in his back, enjoying the gentle rise and fall of his breathing, oddly quiet tonight. He’s so peaceful, and I hope he’s having good dreams.
He’s been so very stressed lately, and grumpy and angry at the world. I’m focused intently on making our bedroom a sanctuary, someplace where we can both relax and forget about everything else that’s going on out there. I’ve been working really hard on decluttering and cleaning both the bedroom and the dining room, because I’m planning on moving the computer desk out to the dining room, which I’m officially converting into our office.
Here’s what the bedroom looked like about a week ago:
I haven’t made an updated image, nor have I made an illustration of the dining room, NOR have I made a definite plan on what my final results will look like. The bedroom is going to be sparse, with just our bed, the dog’s bed, and two dressers (one of which is currently in the dining room, holding craft supplies). If there’s room, I’d like to move a chair in from the living room, in order to have a little reading area by the window. We’ll see.
The dining room, which will be a bitch to draw simply because it’s like a giant storage room of crap, will have the big computer desk on one side and the dining room table (which we never use for eating) will be on the other side, acting as my laptop desk. No more sore elbows! Hurray!
Bye, Pretty Purple. I’ll see you soon!
Apparently my comments aren’t working. I’m going to be switching to another theme for a bit to determine whether it’s a theme-specific issue, or whether it’s something inside wordpress. Stand by!
Update: As you can see, I’m back. The felt theme had no problems with the comments, so I switched back to purple, expecting a problem. I was able to leave comments then too. It’s really weird, because before I switched the first time, I got an error page when I tried to leave a comment (with another username, not as myself). So I guess my website hiccupped, but hopefully it’s all better now.
Mr. Enigma
I swear, my husband is simply out to confuse me.
“I’ve got a contract for you to sign.”
“…what kind of contract?”
“You’ll see. I’ll bring it home, you read it, then sign it.”
“But, J, what IS it?”
“I’m not going to tell you. You can read it when I get home.”
What the hell, people? What the hell?
Venting helped a bit (this is what I emailed my husband)
Dear J,
(I’ve tried my best to express my feelings reasonably, so please don’t be upset by anything I’ve written. In no way am I trying to argue with you, but I needed to get this out of my insides.)
I want to throw a fit about tonight, but I’m trying really hard not to. You’re clearly a better person than me, because I don’t want a thing to do with this. I’m so completely stressed over it, and it doesn’t feel fair to me that someone can just DEMAND to come to my house.
(On that note, I am terrified that giving in to one demand will just reinforce the idea that it is okay to demand things, and it is NOT. We learned about people like her in Behavior Therapy, and all of my knowledge is screaming NO NO NO.)
When I’ve overwhelmed with stress/fear/whatever like this, I completely shut down. As such, I have been unable to do much of anything today. Tonight is not good for me. I hate this. She is asking (nay, demanding) something of me/you/us that is not reasonable. Only my very best friend, or someone that I truly love, has the right to say, “I need you NOW,” and get my immediate attention.
I want to throw a fit and say that she can’t come over, to tell you that you can see her, but she can’t come here. I want to disappear for the evening. I want to change my phone number and forget that she exists. In the end, I know that she’ll be coming over tonight, and I will be doing my best to deal with that (see: my website).
You have the choice to drive down to her house and get her, drive back here, then spend an hour driving back and forth later. That’s your choice. If you’re going to do it, do it because you genuinely care about her. Don’t do it because you feel sorry for her, or because she demanded it, or because you want to be the good guy.
She has a skewed view of her relationship with us. I don’t want to encourage that by dropping everything when she demands to see us. I really don’t think that giving in to this is a good idea. However, she is your friend, and if you think it’s right, I’m not going to tell you that you can’t be there for your friend.
I can’t guarantee that I’ll be here tonight. My drama tolerance level is so far over the top already, and I honestly don’t know if I can deal with her. So if I have to disappear tonight, please don’t take it personally or be upset with me. I love you very, very much, and I know I can’t force you to not to bring her over, but I can’t promise to help you be loving and supportive, because I am not feeling that way at all. Despite what she thinks, she is not a close friend, and I don’t feel comfortable affording her those special “I need you” privileges when I’m not feeling capable of it.
And yes, I am well aware of the fact that I’m probably not a good person.
I hope you understood everything I’ve written, because I’m just trying to explain my own feelings. I tried really hard to sound reasonable, because I’m not wanting to add more demands or drama on your plate. It would have been easier to just use a lot of obscenities and thrown an enormous fit about it, but then you and I would have just gotten into a fight, and that was not my point in writing. I love you, sweetie.
Love,
Me
Overwhelmed
I try to be a nice person. I swear I do. Well, mostly. But some people…there’s just so much I can give. I’m being smothered, and I just can’t do any more. J and I can’t be her entire support system. We can’t deal with the incessant calls and text messages, begging to know when we can get together again. We can’t deal with a 10:30 phone call that she’s on her way over. Didn’t she understand when I said that this week was no good for us? It’s hard to come back and get back to normal after vacation. I told her on Monday that this week was too busy. J told her last night that he was too busy, but unfortunately, he did say, “Maybe tomorrow.” Big mistake. With her, any tiny mention of maybe possibly thinking of considering the option of doing something means that it is set in stone in her mind.
I wrote that a week ago. I thought I needed time to gather my thoughts and sort out the insanity. Tonight, J tells me, “Tiffany said she has to come over tomorrow.”
“No. I have plans tomorrow with my friend.”
“She said to tell my wife that I’m going to go pick her up after work and bring her to our house and that’s final, she doesn’t care what we have to say about it, she is coming over NO MATTER WHAT.”
“J, that’s ridiculous! No way!”
“Well, she told me some more stuff about Soon-to-be-Ex today. She was bawling. It was a demand out of desperation. It…didn’t sound good. She said she HAD to get out of her mom’s house.”
“Well then she needs to go to someone else’s house! We can’t be her only support net!” He agreed with that fact.
I’m totally a bad person, right?
The thing is, I don’t mind hanging out with her. Sure, there have been MANY awkward moments (so very, very many), but she’s nice enough, and I guess we’re friends, but certainly not as close as she imagines we are. But right now, I feel like my drama tolerance bar has been overstretched so far already, and I don’t feel like I can deal with her problems in my current state.
I’m totally a bad person, right?
“I really don’t like someone to announce that they’re coming to our house, or to demand that we let them. I really, really am not okay with that, J.” That last sentence? Total ice bitch voice.
“I know, I hate that too. It’s just, all this crap, and the bawling…”
I see compassion in his eyes. Crap. How can I call anyone a friend and not make room in my head for them when they’re down? I shut my best friend out several years ago because I needed a break from everyone. It turns out that those times she was calling, when I was explaining how I couldn’t see/do anything/anything? She had caught her boyfriend cheating, then flown to Las Vegas by herself to think things over. She filled me in on this later.
It broke my heart.
I still can’t stand the fact that I wasn’t there for my best friend when she needed me most. And what kills me is knowing that, if she has said, “I need you,” I would have dropped out of my funk and focused everything I had on her. I’m able to pull myself out of a lot of crap when someone else – someone I love – needs me. I think that, at the time, I had been so completely closed off that she didn’t even think she could say those words to me.
So I’m sure that Tiffany will be coming over tomorrow night. I suppose I’ll spend the day trying to sort out my own mental drama/stress/crap so that I’ll be able to be as supportive as I can. I still feel like a crappy person, because I’m still dreading it. Is there an easy answer here?
Meet my alter ego
I never intended to talk about the child I watch on this website. That’s why I have another website, which hasn’t been updated since the INSANITY of updating TWO sites for NaBloPoMo kicked my ass. I’ve noticed myself writing more and more about Thomas, and I’ve decided it’s time to segregate again.
May I present Nice to Nanny, freshly updated. If ever you have an urge to see what my workdays hold, that would be the place to go. I can’t promise there won’t be any crossover mentions (it is my job, after all), but I’ll try to keep the, “Damn, is this kid cute!” off here.
Oh, how quickly my balls have returned.
I think I’ve nipped my paranoia in the bud. For whatever reason, my website was still showing J’s name as the registrant. I knew I had looked into private domain registration before, like I have with another site, but the information was still public. This morning, I realized that was because the private registration just hides the contact information, leaving the owner’s name visible. There was never any point in paying for private if the info was still sorta there.
“Well, screw that,” I said this morning. My domain is now registered to Mr. E.M. G. SUCK ON THAT, DEVIL WOMAN!
Because, yeah. That lady we’re up against? I’m pretty sure she’s Satan.
