Lullabies

Dear Lullabies,

Have you ever noticed how things seem to always happen in threes? Death, being a lady, charm, little pigs, wise men, laws of motions, suits...not even Beetlejuice is safe from the law of three. And for me, at least it seems, that things always happen in threes especially when it comes to revelations about shit I would rather avoid. I had a 'three moment' revelation this past weekend about you. 

First there was Bourbon Street. Then there was an unpleasant but not surprising text about you. And lastly, a really interesting interview about Chris Offutt I caught on NPR that all kinda aligned and made me realize that, well, I love you. And not in the 'you will always have a special place in my heart' kind of way but the inconvenient, unfortunate, gut wrenching, soul changing, makes me say gay things, turns me into a chick, kind of way that misses sitting next to you while you play video games. The kind that's cool with you needing downtime to regroup. The kind who finds your stupid goofy ugly Christmas sweaters kinda sexy. The kind that considers the annoying things about you just charming little quirks...even when its you being moody as all hell and inpatient as all fuck. The kind that would rather do absolutely nothing with you than anything else with anyone else in the whole world. You know the kind that even when you think you're at your worst, I still see you as the very best. I thought I could come back around, keep you at arms length and casually have sex with you and not feel a thing. But who am I kidding? You're undeniably, irrevocably the exception to all of my rules. You feel like home to me. Even when we don't talk or see each other, it's never weird. Never awkward. You're always familiar. Even when I do the unthinkable with you and cuddle, it just all seems to fit. We seem to fit. I guess if I'm honest with myself, I thought I could do the whole casual sex thing because I was trying to convince myself that some of you was better than none of you. But that's not me. It's not how anyone as awesome as I am should ever think...but I've never been here before. This was all new to me.  

I've dated a lot of guys. And like I've said before, I always thought my life was always going to be a series of affairs that suited my life for that moment in time. Nothing ever really lasting. Nothing ever really meaningful. But then out of nowhere it all changed when I met you. There is no one else on this earth that I can spend snowed in with and NOT want to murder. There is no one that can make me laugh the way you do. There is no one that gets me the way you do. I have never had so much fun having sex and laughing like I do with you...and that has turned me out the way you have. I've never clicked sexually with anyone like I do with you. Relationships aren't supposed to be hard, it's supposed to be like being with your best friend that you want to fuck all the time. You're my best friend that I want to fuck all the time. Literally. 

I hold chairs and serve on two different boards. I slay dragons for a minimum of 50 hours a week. I'm raising two men by myself. I have time consuming hobbies like golf, craft beer and binge watching TV in my underwear. I also have an awesome group of friends and family who like going on adventures and making memories. I know I already have a pretty awesome yet demanding life but I'm tired of dating. I'm ready to be with someone who wants what I want...to be single but together.  

I know I'm all over the place. I know I'm not being very eloquent but I think it's only because I am trying not to say the thing that I need to say the most. So I'm going to stop the rambling and just say it, is this all we are ever going to be? The occasional late night glass of scotch over sex until you find someone you think is better than me? Because if this is it, I'd really like to know. I met a really nice guy. I love you the most but if this is all I am ever going to be to you, then I don't want to not give this guy a fair chance because I'm holding out hope for you. I understand that there is a very good chance that this is all I am ever going to be to you but I can't lie to myself anymore and deny what I feel for you. I know I'm not perfect. I drink a little too much, work a little too much, can be a little too loud, I have a tendency to be selfish with my time, leave my shoes laying around, I snore, I send multiple texts to a single thought instead of one big one and that I get high at night to settle my mind so I can sleep but the important shit? I have. You won't find anyone better for you than me. I see you. I get you. But mostly importantly, I want to be with you. 

Peace, Love & Baseball,

Broken Hearts

It's Called A Break Up Because It's Broken

Once upon a very very long time ago, I was a 27 year old hot piece of ass. I had the world at my finger tips. I had it all - the beauty, the brains, the body, the job, the car, the apartment, the...you get the point. I was young, beautiful and ready to take over the world until I made one terrible misstep. Fuckface.

Fuckface was my demise...ok, I let Fuckface be my demise. I had convinced myself that I was in love with him. I wasn't though. It was all ego. I just couldn't understand why an old, fat, short man with adult acne, short T-Rex arms who wasn't funny, smart and was poor as fuck didn't want me. So there I stayed constantly tap dancing, selling myself on how great I was to a man who thought that I was, at best, ordinary. It took me SEVEN LONG MOTHER FUCKING years to get over that selfish fat fuck...and my impossible ego.

I tried everything to get over him. While the truth is nothing really worked until I decided I had enough with living the way I had been, there was something that kinda helped me through the process.

Now brace yourself because what I'm about to say helped me is not only kinda cliche but it's also pretty lame. I used to read a book about break ups. Not a big deal? Well, I read it more than once. Waiting for it to get worse? It was called, "It's Called A Break Up Because It's Broken" written by the same dude who wrote, "He's Just Not That Into You"

I can feel the judgement...hell, I'm even judging myself.

In the past when I was really down and I thought I was really determined to let Fuckface go, I'd read through it. I was convinced it had the key I needed to break free. Eventually I realized, like that bitch Dorothy, that I had the power to leave all along. I just needed to believe in myself.

I still took a lot from that book. They said a lot of shit, that no matter how lame it is, made a lot of sense. I believe in that book so much that anytime a friend was going through a heartbreak, which is pretty often, I'd send them a copy of it.

It's been almost 3 weeks since I've seen or talked to Lullabies. THREE WEEKS. Not only is that a record breaking streak, it's also been pretty easy to stay away until...

Last Friday I was driving to meet my family for a baseball game. I've been pretty stoked about it since it's my beloved Giants and they haven't played here since the 2010 World Series. On my way to my mom's, I started to tear up. Thoughts of him, how excited I was, how much I wished he was going, how the ticket my little brother's girlfriend was using was really bought for him all flooded my mind. So miserable that when anything good happens, I only want him at my side. So I allowed myself a good cry and pulled it together for the game.

On my way back home I was high on the game, the Giants, time with my family and well, ok beer. My thoughts couldn't have been further away from Lullabies and then it hit me. Like a swift unexpected a kick to the back of the head, Lullabies is seeing someone.

I have no evidence to support my theory nor do I intend to go looking for it. But I know with every fiber of my being that as I type this, there is someone else in his arms. She's getting his toothy grin and goofy laugh. She's getting all the kisses that were once mine. And tonight, it will be her that's laying on his chest falling asleep to the rhythm of his heart, smelling the scent of his skin all while being tangled up in him. You're probably wondering how I know all of this if I haven't talked to him; especially since this man has ZERO social media presence. I can't stalk and keep tabs on him like my exs do to me. But I do. From the day we met, we have always had this uncanny, unexplainable connection to each other that defies all reason and logic. It's pretty fucked up honestly.

If only I could shake this "know" in me that I was created for him.  I want to shake it...and him off. Just get past all of this shit. So I took out my rusty, trusty copy of, "It's Called A Break Up Because It's Broken" and started reading it...but reading it this time is very different.

I'm not trying to take it in fast so I can get drunk on the words. I don't feel the key to letting him go is hiden in it.  I just feel sad. Hopeless. Broken and I can't stop crying. For the first time, I feel the words, their sentiments, the heartbreak and the pain. I am truly heart broken. I know now this book was written for people who feel like I do right now. Man how it stings.

While I'm not peeling through the pages looking for the key to release me from him, I can say for the first time, I can feel myself flirting with the thought of hope. Hope that maybe reading it this time, may have something to soothe my soul and bring enough peace to my heart to push through the darkness, even if it's just for tonight.

Peace, Love & Baseball,

Day One?

If there is one thing that Lullabies is totally consistent with, it's disappointment.

If there is one thing that I'm totally consistent with, its my inability to say no to that dick.

I had plans to see Lullabies on Wednesday night, the night before his birthday. I had every intention of walking in, pushing him down on the sofa, give him my signature porn star blow job and walk out. You know, go out with guns a blazin'. But true to form, he cancelled. Some bullshit about having a bad day at work and not wanting to be around people. What. The. Fuck. Ever.

So I went to the bar to have a drink, wait for the sun to go down and drop off Lullabies' birthday gift at the door.

Everything went as planned until that fucker texted me that I should have knocked. He says he wants to be left alone, until I'm close and then he wants me there?!? I didn't buckle. I didn't go back. But before I pat myself on the back, it had everything to do with the fact that I had a flat tire. Had my tire not been flat, I probably would have gone back...and fucked him senseless.

While I was determined to leave him alone on Wednesday, the absence of his dick in me as planned, made it impossible.

I was confident that playing golf on Thursday would distract me. But it didn't. I went over there. We talked, laughed, goofed around, had sex, cuddled and fell asleep. Bullshit.

As much as I failed on my first day, two things happened. First, I woke up at 3am and left. I didn't stay cuddled up with him like he wanted me to. Second, he said 2 very fucked up things to me.

The first was him being relieved that I had decided to give up dating and the other I can't remember, except that it was really bad...but not bad enough for me to not fuck the living shit out of him.

He didn't get the porn star blow job I was originally going to give him but I still fucked him every which way but loose. *shrug* What can I say? I'm a really weak and horny woman.

Yesterday he texted me about the night before. I should have known something was up. He was inquisitive about the night before. He wasn't joking or reminiscing about the night before like he normally does.

Last night I saw Magic Mike and the only thing I wanted after watching that movie, was his dick in and around me. But I didn't text him. I didn't fuck him. I texted him right before the movie started goofing on him about an inside joke. After 2 hours and ten fucking glorious minutes of Magic Mike, that mother fucker hadn't texted back.

So I started thinking. This is what he does. He gets close just to pull away. He's the one with the kissing and the cuddling and the jealousy...not me. He's the one always pushing shit forward just to push me the fuck away.

Who needs this bullshit? Who needs someone who only texts when he's drunk? Not this bitch. So I blocked him.

Today I woke up angry.

I woke up fed up.

Today, he can go suck his own dick.

Fuck Lullabies.

Peace, Love & Baseball,

When I'm Gone

I went to the bar last night. Yeah, I know. What's new?! I don't go to get hit on or picked up. I go to a bar that sells real beer. A bar that is notoriously known as a sausage fest of married men. I go because even if I go in alone, I'm never alone. I have close friendships with the bartenders, the wait staff and most of the other regulars. It's my home away from home...the place I go so I don't sit at home in my underwear, watching good bad TV, smoking, eating shit I shouldn't and crying in my beer by myself. I'm like 'Norm' there but with a better rack.

Last night a married dude tried to bang me in his truck. The whole thing started when he asked me if I had a boyfriend. When I told him about Lullabies and why he broke up with me, he like everyone else, was baffled. So I shot straight with the douche and told him what I thought. That it's probably because Lullabies doesn't see himself with me for some stupid superficial reason like I cuss too much, or drink too much, or work too much, or watch too much sports, or golf too much, or I'm too independent, or go out too much, or I smoke too much, or I tell crude jokes, or I'm too loud, or because I'm an unconventional mother, or that I'm a little too chubby...or, you get the point. But nonetheless, it's something superficial that really doesn't factor into being compatible with someone. He called my bullshit when I commented on the way I look. He said my looks had absolutely NOTHING to do with it. He told me the way I carried myself and how I looked made me very attractive. I didn't really put too much weight into what he said because he then went on to tell me how he couldn't stop staring at my tits unless he was checking out my ass or my legs. About that time is when he invited me to his truck. I kinda just chalked it up to him thinking I was vulnerable and that I was like most chicks and identified feeling better with sex. Much to his dismay, so not the case. While I do need a dick up in me...I don't need the fucking drama of a married one. So I took it as a compliment and walked away with my head a little higher.

Then a regular came in. We'll call him Zach because he looks IDENTICAL to Zach Galifianakis. I had shared the bar with him a few months ago when Lullabies and I were still together. At that time, Zach told me I would be pretty IF my eyelashes weren't so ugly. Uh? What? My eyelashes?!?! I'll admit it kinda fucked with my head a bit. I mean, who says that?!? Eyelashes...of all things...really???! Zach has since then apologized. Anyhow, Zach asked me about Lullabies. I gave him the story and he said I had NO reason to be insecure. BOTH said if he was attracted enough to be my boyfriend and bang me and if he is STILL banging me, that it's not the way I look....and to stop being a chick. That divorced dudes can be a little weird. To not stress over this guy and to move on to someone who will appreciate me because there are hella dudes that would totally be all about a chick like me. In all of this I had one stranger, one kinda stranger and two friends all remind me of what I bring to the table and more importantly why I shouldn't be afraid to eat alone.

While I'm fairly certain I will never understand why Lullabies suddenly from one day to the next decided he didn't want to be with me, I do know one thing. That I am, without a doubt, a badass chick. And bitches like me aren't a dime a dozen.

He doesn't know it yet but he's so going to miss me when I'm gone.

Peace, Love & Baseball,

30 Days Lullabies Free

Love is more fucked up than drugs. At least with drugs you can get help. Check yourself into a facility, counseling, 12 step programs, self help books.... alllll kinds of shit to get you off your choice of poison. But love, love you're just fucked. Ain't nothing you can do except sit in a corner crying, obsessing, laughing, talking to yourself, rocking like a mental patient, fiending for the one that broke your heart. And everyone including their mother is out there looking for it. Fucking. Bullshit.

I can't shake Lullabies. I date. I date guys hoping that one of them will fuck me. You know hit the reset button on my vagina, so I can knock my heart out my vagina and move on. But nothing is ever that easy, at least not for me. Every guy I date is a good guy. They all want to talk, get to know me and respect me. I just want to scream at them, "WILL YOU JUST FUCK ME ALREADY???!!!" What happened to all the men just wanting to get laid? Where are the dudes who are gonna grab me, throw me on the bed, rip my clothes off and fuck me into an oblivion?? Shiiiit, can a sistah at least get finger fucked...?!?!?

But honestly, even if I could find a dude man enough to pony up and throw one in me, it would probably only make me think of Lullabies even more. So I ask myself what good, if any, will a new dick do...??? Probably not a god damn thing. So I regress.

Full disclosure: I've been fucking Lullabies since...well, always. We fuck well together. Just texting him makes my nipples hard. For a while, fucking him was fine. I'd go over, walk up to his room, get naked, fuck him senseless, get dressed and thank him for the dick while I was walking out. He'd try to talk and cuddle but I wasn't having it. He left me. He left me because he didn't want me to be his girlfriend. So now he doesn't get the whore with a side of the 'girlfriend experience'. Fuck that noise. It was going fine. I was dating. I wasn't texting him. And then he decided to fuck it all up.

He decided to get all boyfriendish. Kissing me, talking to me, cuddling, asking about me...you know, all the shit he did when we were together. What. The. Fuck. Is. That. About. Telling me how awesome I am, being all intimate but yet, still not wanting to my boyfriend again.

Saying shit like, "You should be happy with me but I'm being an asshole." is confusing enough. But acting like he used to when he doesn't need to, is not only confusing but hella weird. It's not like he has to pretend to be into me for me to fuck him. I was fucking him just fine before. Why the change???

I came up will all kinds of scenarios as to why my steady no strings attached booty call has now turned into a fucked up porn version of the Twilight Zone. I've been going nuts trying to figure it out, no, trying to figure him out...and then it hit me. STOP. BEING. A. FUCKING. CHICK.

Who cares why he's switched it up.

Who gives a fuck what he's feeling.

Do I really want to know what's going on in his mind?

Nope. I have the only answer I really need to all questions I have about him: HE. DOESN'T. WANT. TO. BE. MY. BOYFRIEND. ANYMORE.

So now it's time for me to woman up, pop a Midol, change my tampon and for fuck's sake STOP FUCKING THE DUDE for at least 30 days.

So here it goes, 30 days Lullabies free. And I'm doing it old school. I'm not blocking his ass. Nope. I'm gonna take that mother fucker by the balls and make shit happen.

So expect me to post a bit more frequently. Expect them to be crazy. Because I'm going to tell you all the things I can't, won't and shouldn't tell him. Wish me luck....well wish me luck after tomorrow night. I'm going to see him give him a birthday porn star blow job and then walk out that door like nothings changed...just for him to see that everything is different.

Peace, Love & Baseball,

Everyday.

I read an article the other day about breakups and letting go. It said that we don't miss the people we were with rather who we were when we were with them. It challenged the reader to think back to the times you miss them so you can see it's not about the love you have for them but the love you have for your ego. It went on to say we only miss them when we're lonely. Bullshit. Fuck you. I stopped reading it immediately.

I miss Lullabies. I miss the way he smelled, his goofy big tooth grinned, his stupid laugh, his cheesy t shirts, the way he chomped his teeth when he was drinking a new beer, I miss sitting next to him on the sofa watching shows on my iPad while he played PlayStation. I miss laying in bed, in the dark, laughing until we cried and talking for hours. I miss the way he looked at me when he thought I didn't notice. The way he'd hold my hand in the car. How he touched my face when we kissed. I miss the way his beard felt on my neck. I miss the beat of his heart and the rhythm of his breath while I slept on his chest. I miss how he always had to touch me while he slept and how he felt in my arms. I miss how we would laugh during sex. I miss how he knew what I was thinking and feeling...even if we weren't in the same room. We truly enjoyed each other. I never had so much fun doing absolutely nothing with anyone like I did with him. But it's when I'm happy on a perfect day that I miss him the most.

I miss him when I see a funny meme. On my birthday. When I close a big deal. I still catch myself looking for him when I say something that cracks everyone in the room up. I still listen for his laugh. I still find myself reaching for him in my sleep. We broke up on April 6th and there are mornings when I wake up  hoping, praying, that it was all a nightmare and that I'm safe in bed next to him.

When does it end?

He was made for me.

We were supposed to live happily ever after.

I'm supposed to be Mrs. Lullabies.

I should be thinking about what to make him for dinner tonight.

I should be shopping for a sexy costume to wear on his birthday.

But I'm not.

It was love. Where did it go?

How do I live in a world where he exists but isn't with me?

When will I be able to breathe again?


Peace, Love & Baseball,