Enough

I don't give a fuck what anyone says, I know Lullabies was the dude made for me. As gay as it sounds, it's like we have tethered souls or something equally gay as that. It's like this, I always know when that dude is thinking of me, looking for an excuse to talk to me. I can always just feel 'it'. Everyone laughs at me, dismisses me and tells me I'm crazy but then...BAM! Incoming text. Every. Single Time. It's like a discount Walmart version of Spidey Sense...you know, the whole 'with great power comes great responsibility' thing but more like, 'with great power comes a great big sack of bullshit'...who needs that?!? Obviously, I do...because life is a funny little bitch who likes giving it to me in the ass any chance she gets.

I had always said that I never wanted to live in a world where Lullabies existed and we weren't, at the very least, friends. But things change and people rearrange. I read an article today that said, "If two past lovers can remain friends, either they never were in love or they still are" I don't know where he and I lie. Maybe somewhere in between the two but what I do know is, that we can't be friends. In fact, I don't want him as a friend. He's a shitty fucking friend. While I love him and I always will, I just know that I'm tired of him and his bullshit. So when he texted me this past weekend, I wasn't surprised. However, unlike before, I didn't feel giddy when I saw his text pop up. I wanted to respond but not like I have in the past with a cute inside joke or some other witty remark. More than anything, I just wanted to tell him that he was a shitty friend and that there just wasn't any sense in texting me anymore. But I couldn't do that either. To me, it felt like telling him anything along those lines wouldn't be any type of fun and it would make me seem like...I don't know...manipulative? Desperate? Crazy ex-girlfriendish? Whatever. But on the other hand, I felt like ignoring him would come across as a game. Bitches always say, "Silence speaks volumes'. But I don't have volumes to say and I never want to be a bitch to his asshole. I just want him to figure his shit out, leave me out of the equation and if our paths ever cross again one day, I want that whole Batman movie line about smiling at each other from across the room thing. So while I was going back and forth over what to do, I had a revelation: I. Don't. Give. A. Fuck. Anymore. Yeah, it was weird how it hit me. To love someone with every fiber of my being, to know that this man was made for me but to still not give a fuck what he thinks or feels...totally surreal. So I decided on not texting him back. Why say anything? Or give a fuck how he interprets my silence when the bottom line is, I don't fucking care anymore. I never thought I'd be here but thankfully, I am. Now I can move the fuck on. FINALLY.

The thing is, the 'it' feeling hasn't gone away yet. So while I say that I don't care, I can't help but to wonder what his next move is and more importantly, what mine will be.

Peace, Love & Baseball,

 

"We were so in love and we had so much fun. It was fucking brilliant, our time together."

If Ever.....

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,