Caledonia

I don't know if you can see
The changes that have come over me
In these last few days I've been afraid
That I might drift away
I've been telling old stories, singing songs
That make me think about where I've come from
That's the reason why I seem
So far away today

[Chorus:]
Let me tell you that I love you
That I think about you all the time
Caledonia, you're calling me, now I'm going home
But if I should become a stranger
Know that it would make me more than sad
Caledonia's been everything I've ever had

Now I have moved and I've kept on moving
Proved the points that I needed proving
Lost the friends that I needed losing
Found others on the way
I have kissed the fellas and left them crying
Stolen dreams, yes, there's no denying
I have traveled hard, sometimes with conscience flying
Somewhere with the wind

[Chorus]

Now I'm sitting here before the fire
The empty room, the forest choir
The flames have cooled, don't get any higher
They've withered, now they've gone
But I'm steady thinking, my way is clear
And I know what I will do tomorrow
When hands have shaken, the kisses float
Then I will disappear

I'm not sure there is anything on earth more inspiring than Scotland. I'm not a well traveled person, and the few trips I've taken have a common theme of US Naval bases involved. Norfolk, VA was the first. I hitched a ride with my brother Gene, his wife Jackie, and baby Sara as they returned to their home from a vacation in Maine. It was my first foray out of New England, and was the longest car trip EVER. LOL, what I remember most from that trip was eating the wrong combination of food in the car, and getting horribly ill, and puking all over his new car. SORRY GENE!! LOL. I was young, only in 7th grade then, and was much impressed by the local mall, and their beautiful neighborhood. I remember my sister-in-law had the patience of a saint with me.
My next major trip was again to visit my brother Gene, this time in Scotland. He was stationed at the base in Dunoon, Scotland. My plane touched down early in the morning after an all night trans-Atlantic flight. I hadn't slept a wink, and was quite nauseous from the trip. Somehow belly-aches, me, and my brother seem to go hand in hand. As I got off the plane, I was greeted by pipers in full regalia, skirling out a traditional melody, something I'd never heard in my life. My flight was in the summer of 1989, about 6 months after the terrorist bombing of Pan Am flight 103 that killed so many, and landed in Lockerbie, so airport security in Glasgow was very tight. Once out of the airport, we had to take a ferry across a loch, and then an almost 2 hour car ride to Dunoon.
Scotland was incredible. Rich, full of hills, mountains that descended into beautiful lochs, and sheep. Yes sheep. Sheep everywhere, on the hillsides, in the glens, walking in the friggin street. The friggin street with one lane, that is. One lane and small side turnoffs, just in case you meet an oncoming car, one of you can pull aside. Yeah, good luck with that. Just for shits and giggles though, if you hit a sheep because it just happens to walk in front of your car...you need some serious cash. Pay for the sheep you killed, any offspring it might have had, and all the wool it would have produced during it's lifetime. I'm thinking people must drive pretty slow in Scotland, God knows I would.
I hadn't studied up on the history of Scotland, so the sites that I visited didn't impact me the way they would now. I didn't understand about Bannockburn and Robert the Bruce, and it wasn't until last year and a most excellent historical romance that I finally got a decent grip on Mary, Queen of Scots. But even ignorant of it's unbelievable cultural heritage, unlearned about its historical significance, it called to me. I FELT how it's past went back thousands of years, how the land was steeped in stories about it's people, about a land full of bloodshed and strife, and extermination. I never did visit Culloden, and we didn't get far north enough to see the fabled Loch Ness. But I did walk the Royal Mile, visit Edinburgh Castle, and Holyrood House. I visited the seat of the Duke of Argyll, and his castle, Inverary, and participated in one of the grandest Highland Games ever held. And I visited Stirling. There were some ruins that we visited as well, and I think I enjoyed those as much or more than the intact castles. Toward Castle was one which let me really use my imagination. I needed to understand how they lived, how it all felt, and wanted to really BE in the moment. I remember that as my brother and his wife strolled the Isle of Skye, I found a castle being renovated, and just sat, and felt, and penciled some drawings. I was in love, and I didn't want to leave. I understood my surroundings, the land, because it was so much like being home in Maine. The same climate, though not as harsh in the winters, and much the same landscape with the rise and fall of the horizon. In the years since my visit, I've done tons of research and reading on Scotland, and I know it's history and stories intimately. I even began teaching myself Gaelic, to better understand it's past, but shortly gave up because it's clearly impossible. LOL. And so I say that there is nothing more inspiring than a nation that suffered political and military persecution for centuries at the hand of the English, to the point of having the clans extinguished. And yet every year, clan pride erupts at the various Scottish Pride festivals all over the world. They have remembered their heritage, they have preserved their culture, and they have thrived as a nation, although still under British Rule to this day.

I want to go back some day, for an extended stay. I used to joke in college that I'd run away to Scotland and become a sheep farmer some day, although I know I'd be terrible at it because I'd never want to slaughter any of them. But what mostly goes thru my head when I think of Scotland is the hope and belief that Charles Edward Stuart, lovingly referred to as Bonnie Prince Charlie, would win Scotland back for the Jacobites, and that they would be a free and independent nation at last. I think of the campaigns across the nation, battles fought by men and boys who were armed with little more than pieces of wood, pitchforks, shovels, and an odd claymore or rifle. I think of them going from town to town and spreading Charlie's infectious hope, singing Mo Ghile Mear, 

and inspiring everyone who was fit enough to hit something to join their army. And I sob to know that none of them survived. I think of them slowly starving as the campaign pushed them further north, towards the fields at Culloden where they would all die because no quarter would be given. And I wonder how the history of our lives would all be different if Charlie had won. To this day, it amazes me that the siren song that lured so many to certain death is still played throughout Scotland and Ireland today, still inspiring people, still instilling hope in their breast when in all reality the song is a dirge. It was the pied piper of it's time. Yet the lyrics are timeless....

Leave the field and leave the fire
And find the flame of your desire
Set your heart on this far shore
And sing your dream to me once more

[Chorus:]
'Sé mo laoch mo ghile mear
'Sé mo Shéasar, gile mear
Suan gan séan ní bhfuair mé féin
Ó chuaigh i gcéin mo ghile mear

Now the time has come to leave
Keep the flame and still believe
Know that love will shine through darkness
One bright star to light the wave
In all of my trials and tribulations, I think back on the Scots and always remember that if they can survive what happened to THEM, then my world is really really....a fine piece of haggis. LOL.

Holy Mother of God!!!

LOL, I haven't been able to stop giggling now for 2 hours. My new friend, who today expressed the wish to continue seeing me on a very regular basis, stopped over today for lunch, chat, and...other stuff. I told him, afterward, when my knees were not quite working anymore, that if I had to make new memories in my life, he was a GREAT person to be making those memories with. He's funny, he's WOW in terms of looks, svelte, strong, intelligent, politically savvy, got a fantastic job, and is an unbelievable .....hmm, you fill in the blanks here. He understands what I'm going through, and isn't the type of person that will keep saying "move on". He's patient, willing to talk about it with me, and offers non-depressing advice and comments that make me just feel better. Yes, I know I'm better than the situation, yes I know that I don't deserve the kind of treatment I've received...but sometimes making your brain understand these things and be OK with it is a whole different story. I like that he's not threatened by the fact that I'm still dealing with this whole mess. I like that he agreed with my choice of amputation, that he knew being home gave me too much time to torture myself with looking at the page of a man that I can't be with anymore. I like that he looks forward to taking me places and showing me off. I like that he loves the way I look NOW, not how I could look if I lost weight. I like that he doesn't make me feel self conscious about how I look, that he loves holding every part of me. I like that he's teaching me that sex doesn't have to hurt to feel amazing, but I like that he can still be rough when I want him to be. And the things he said... He said one thing in particular that made me snuggle into him harder. "I've met alot of women, but you are exemplary. You are the kind of woman that I was still thinking about a week after I met you, the kind that made me have to talk to you again, and the kind where one meeting would never be enough. Eighty percent of women are not as good as you are, the other twenty percent, well, they might be as good, but I doubt it." Ok, kudos and MAJOR points for that one. LOL...there was another saying of his that had me laughing for a good 15 minutes, and I swear will be my book title some day, but that's a whole other blog!
He's a most fabulous distraction, and I'm very lucky to have met him. I'm so thankful the universe saw fit to send me a new friend too...maybe it's that Secret again!

Putting an End to the Bullshit

So, I allowed the grade school games to affect my life for just long enough. Today, Memorial Day, is the opportunity I choose to end the nonsense for good. Some may notice a conspicuous absence from my Friends Column. Yes, Mr. is gone. I had to amputate today...inflict a wound in the short term to gain greater health in the long run. He made a decision, for better or for worse, and so did I, for that matter. Our continued conversations, occasional lunches, and other contact just keep me in a bad place, ultimately. Sure, I do love to hear him laugh over something I wrote, and I will miss hearing his mirth. But we seem to be toxic to each other lately...at least on my end I suppose. To be disrespected on his page in the public comments section is over the top. I may jab, and cajole, laugh, and point out the painfully obvious, and yes, on my page I've said my peace, while still trying to remain civil and protect names and identities. But not everyone plays by my rules. And I won't allow that behavior to affect me any longer because I am so much better than all of it. He & I had a conversation about it, and he agrees, has promised to "address" the situation.
So the craziness ends today for good, because I say so. It's really too bad that a man can be so blind to the enormity of the mistake he's made, and even more so...that he could refuse to change course even after he's seen the error. Inconceivable. Why?

Another Country Heard From

Lately, new people have been finding my blogs, which makes it damned inconvenient to have to restrict access because of one idiot. Anywho, a couple of days ago, one of Mr's other former lovers contacted me to sympathize with how he had not lived up to being the person he seemed to be. This is becoming more and more a theme in his personality, as I'm seeing it in a new perspective lately. So this lady, who offered Mr help and advice on his family situation felt like she'd been treated wrongly. She went on to offer me happiness and healing, and told me she was also moving on in her life. And perhaps that's what made me be assertive and raw with him on Sunday.
He thinks I'm Mean. LOL. He had a hissy fit...for real. But the honest to god truth is that I am SO not his beck and call girl. He has one of those living right down the street from him, willing to drop everything at a moment's hesitation for any whim of his. More power to ya girlfriend. I'm willing to try this friend thing, but it will be on my terms, it will be respectful and considerate, or it will not be at all. My time is valuable, and precious, and I will not WASTE it...period. No more excuses, and above all, no more lies. You'd think he'd understand, at this point, that I can uncover any lie he gives me. LOL. So here are my ideas about friendship:
You don't use that person without giving back. You call when you can't make it, or are going to be late. You reciprocate. You care about that person's well-being, and you "have their back". You respect them, trust them, and are considerate in your actions towards them. You don't lie to them.
The nice part, for me, about hanging out with different guys now is that I get to see the differences in how I get treated....most noticeably socially. Mr wasn't awful, but he didn't like to call on the phone, and wouldn't necessarily call me unless he needed or wanted something. He'd occasionally call me to thank me, which was super, and he'd let me know he made it home ok, or he called to see if I made it home ok. But I always felt I had to try so hard to maintain his interest all the time. Now I have someone that texts me in the morning to wish me a beautiful day, just because. He calls out of the blue to see how I'm feeling, and to ask me what I'm thinking about. What a fantastic feeling to think that someone might actually be thinking about me without my having to remind him first. LOL. Well, and he is a magnificent piece of eye candy to boot. Life is good.
My new friend and I have a date tomorrow, and I so can't wait for it. I think we may be debutting as a couple at the June Merava...but I'll have to update on that at a later time. And as for the lady that contacted me....Your story is appreciated, and you have been heard. I wish you love and happiness in your life as well, and hope you can move on to better pastures.

Gotta Have Faith

For two nights now, I've been struggling with what to write. I knew I had a blog inside of me that had to come out, but I couldn't find the path, couldn't find the story that needed to be told. I've made some assertions in the last few months, and I mean to stick by them, no matter who, no matter what. One assertion was that my blogs are for me, and written because I am a blogger, plain and simple. As necessary as breathing, eating, and enjoying the erotic arts, is writing to me. The other assertion was that I was not, nor have I ever been engaging in a so-called "blog war". The temptation is there, and it makes me struggle. Nights like last night make me want to strike verbal blows against the ignorant and grade-schoolish behavior that is so eagerly displayed.....like it is a trait to be admired. My Sims have a social feature listed under "Mean". They can go "Nyah Nyah"....this is the kind of behavior I'm referring to. So I took some time to try and let it go. I followed the proper channels, let Mr. know his passwords have been breached again, and just calmly and rationally let him know that adolescent games do bother me because as I try to breathe, and let go, and just let him be him....and let me be me, the daggers and salt make it infinitely harder to stop being pissed, and bitter and filled with rage. We had a great conversation, and he apologized. The fault isn't his this time, but he accepted responsibility because he does care about my feelings still....and that is something. Because in the end...shit on your shoe is just that...shit. You have to wipe it up and toss it in the garbage where it belongs.
Part of moving on is separating yourself and making the memories stop hurting. Tonight on American Idol...(congrats to David Cook by the way...he was my choice, and NO, I didn't friggin vote) I saw a performer that still has the ability to touch my girlishness. Someone who's songs became intrinsic to our relationship, and our myriad breakups. George Michael came out on stage and performed a song from "Listen Without Prejudice"...one of my all time favorite albums of his. He made me giddy inside to see him again, even though he's aged tons, and couldn't really sing because he was sporting a bad cold. But to hear the idols sing Freedom, and Father Figure, and Faith...it was one of those memories that curls in the pit of your stomach like warmed cognac....
That's all I wanted
Something special, something sacred
In your eyes
For just one moment
To be bold and naked, At your side
Sometimes I think that you'll never
Understand me
Maybe this time is forever
Say it can be

That's all you wanted
Something special, someone sacred
In your life
Just for one moment
To be warm and naked, At my side
Sometimes I think that you'll never
Understand me
But something tells me together
We'd be happy

I'd listen to that in the car, Mr, and it was you and me in those hushed words. Both of us wanting and needing something the other never truly understood, and finally coming to understand that it was great because it was tender, and loving, and heated... So listening to it tonight, knowing that you do care in your way....made me understand the path of the story, the tone of the blog. Again, it's never been a war on my side because these words, like I told you 10,000 times....are for you. I'm glad of your successes yesterday, and proud that you are taking control. Thank you for your encouragement and wonderment towards the stories I wrote for you. And thank you for dealing with the daggers in my back for me. Somehow your Capulets found my courtyard too.

Lions & Tigers, and of Course a Bear to Poke

Single is...interesting. More and More interesting as each day goes by. I took a chance this weekend, and had an unbelievable time. I made my way back to NH, back to Jill's, for the first time as a single girl. It was a small private gathering, just 4 of us, and the only person I knew and had met for real was Jill. The two gentlemen, although I'd chatted quite a bit with one of them, would be new.
Mind-blowing, there aren't any other words for it. Liberating, maybe. Exhausting, surreal...
Yes, I missed him...but reality was handy, and Jill a fountain of wit, and reassurance. I was treated like a treasure, my pleasure the day's top priority. I was catered to...coddled by both gentlemen who made sure I didn't have much time to dwell on the past. LOL. I also made two new friends, people who would love to hang with me and kick it. And MY GOD, are they fine. Malcolm, who happens to live in Portland even has a daughter my daughter's age...so the possibility even exists in the future for play dates and mini-golf.
I had to pass Mr's house on the way home, and with my luck, he was outside and saw me. I called him, so he'd know I wasn't stalking him or exhibiting evil intent. I still would like to be friends some day, and getting over the rage and bitterness will propel me towards that goal.  Malcolm had some kind words for me last night. And Mr, he actually came to your defense. You know the real story about yesterday, because you asked for it. So my words are, poke, poke....
"What are you gonna do about it, BITCH!"

My Flyboy

I got an offer today to fly to Memphis for a spell, and chill out. Memphis? one might ask...but Memphis is where my flyboy lives. Yep, my "free pass" previously mentioned, is an amazing gentleman that works for an airline, and frequently makes stops in Portland, which is how I met him several years ago now.
We had been chatting via email for a long bit, telling stories back and forth. HJ is a wonderful communicator, and I always liked the fact that if I emailed or texted him, he responded and was excited about chatting with me. He LOVED hearing what I had to say, and was almost as opinionated as I was, or still am. And DAMN but if he wasn't a fine piece, to boot. I first met up with him on Christmas Day, 2005. Wow, seems so long ago. My Christmas Day had been hellish, and I was seeing Mr, but, as in most holidays back then, he wasn't available because of family. My sister had hosted the holiday, but hadn't been feeling well, and had acted truly atrocious to myself and my daughter. She just didn't want any noise that day. So I came home that night around 6 ish, and had a message waiting from HJ inviting me to meet him for a drink at the Doubletree in Portland. I decided that I needed a real Christmas Present, so I went.
The irony, at the time, was that the hotel was located right down the street from Mr's house....and back then I drove the flower shop van, emblazoned with the logo all over it. Hard to miss. I kind of chuckled at my audacity to be pulling a free pass right under Mr's nose, and as I started to really think about it, got kind of scared and tried to hide the van in back of the hotel. It didn't matter, he didn't know. But HJ was coming back from a Christmas Dinner, and I met him in the lobby, and, for a first time meet, he was everything I'd hoped. There were no drinks to be had in the entire city of Portland that night...it seemed all the bars were closed because of the holiday. But HJ was prepared, and had my favorite Merlot up in his room. LOL, yeah I know it's kind of sappy, but I thought it was really sweet that he'd remembered what my favorite wine was just from our emails, thought it was great that he prepared for ME, and knew I wasn't leaving without sumthin sumthin anyway, so why waste time.
It was a really amazing night, he was wonderful, and gentle, and dirty all at the same time. He always seemed to know what I wanted, but would make me ask him for it....explicitly. I was shy, I didn't want to say it. But he got every word out of my mouth he wanted to hear, and then some. It was hot and sweaty, it was relaxed, it was fun. The attraction was ridiculous, we couldn't stop that night. If I hadn't had to go home because of my daughter, we wouldn't have slept at all, it would have gone past the 4 times into double digits. He was insatiable, and I matched him in my eagerness.
The second time I saw him was in January of 2007. Mr had stood me up at NYE, and I hadn't seen or talked to him for 16 days. LOL, on THE DAY I was going to go pick up HJ at the airport, Mr. shows up in town...to talk. I was incredulous. Like, you can't be serious...NOW??? Mr. and I went to lunch at KFC, where I cried like an ass because I was so hurt and furious at him, and watched the clock out of the corner of my eye so I wouldn't miss HJ's flight. Mr. knew something was up, and he knew I was lying to him about where I was going. But, at the time, who cares? After a no-show, $250.00 waste of money, and 16 chicken shit days of no talking, I don't need to explain where I'm going or who I'm seeing, true? HJ's flight was right on time, and I made it there to get him. We stayed at the airport hotel, and it was another magical night. We even took time to go into Portland, down to the docks to pick him up some fresh "bugs", or lobster as we call em in lay terms. I hate seafood, hate the smell, the taste, the texture. Walking into that shop was torture, it was awful. HJ laughed so hard to see my crinkled up face, even tried to hide my face in his wool coat so i wouldn't smell it so bad. We caught supper at the Pizza Hut Bistro, had pizza bar and drinks, then headed for a night in. No TV, no competing with Red Sox, just his full attention, and wave after wave after wave of pleasure.
We've always stayed friends, thru the years. He obviously knows that I see people, and I surely know that he's not celibate, but when we chat or talk, however infrequently, that fire is instantaneously there again. His airline had stopped flying into Portland, but miraculously, they are again. We're trying to co-ordinate some Maine time when he comes up here, but he's really pressing for me to fly down to Memphis...to go to him for once, now that I have no commitments romantically. He's asked me for a week, I've told him I'll consider a weekend to begin with. He does have some odd habits, although endearing. He's an old sailor, and loves to tell stories about his days in Japan, or Spain. He makes me laugh a lot, even if it's just at him as he applies his shirt garters, or obsessively brushes his hair. He's a neat freak, I'm a total slob. But he's a genuine good guy at heart, and I certainly do have all the time in the world right now. HJ, you've always been there for me in the bad times, and I want you to know that I really do luv the mess outta you for that.
Damn, what is it with me and old sailors????

Dead Horse

During Mr.'s recent trouble (see Sweet Adversity), he had me change his passwords, again, and lock down his pages, again. He didn't want anything to do with "that woman", he told me, "make sure she can't contact me on ANY of my accounts." So I did what he asked, as I usually do. Of course now that they are back in bed together, I supposed I should have assumed he'd unlock all of his accounts to her. I mean, it only makes sense, right? So in that spirit, I shouldn't have been shocked to see her glowering face staring at me from his page. Even more, I shouldn't have clicked on her face to link up to her page. I hadn't for a while, didn't need to as others always sent me the info that condemned Mr. as soon as she wrote it. But I did this morning, and she had a nice fresh detail of their little tender moments, their struggles, and their longing to attend Merava, which they couldn't because "it is all I had left". WTF??
I assure you that moving on has not left me bereft of everything except Merava.
And since Mr still assumed that our sex life would continue unhindered, and of course good sex is always a tantalizing treat, I felt the need this morning to be definitive about which course I was taking in life. I told him goodbye....again. I also contacted the group moderator and let him know I didn't care if they were members. One source of revenue in a club is as good as another. As long as they leave me the fuck alone when I attend, I don't care anymore. I was genuine and earnest, but....sorry guys, your membership is still rejected. AND, it's NOT because of me.
I'm not lacking for offers of companionship. And, by being single again, I've no reason to say no anymore. I intend to have fun for awhile, be selective in my companions, and maybe meet someone that won't lie to me and break promises. In fact I look forward to a man who will LOVE spending time with me, without taking half of that time to further his Online Booty Calls, or talk to other girls in my presence. I won't be sorry to not always be wondering who he's cheating with now and feeling like I have to look over my shoulder 24/7. He is who he is, for better or worse. Thanks, Mr. for the good times. Screw you for the bad ones. Good luck in your future, I do hope all goes well. The story ends, time to choose a new book.

Happy Mother's Day

Thank God for my Juju. I love my daughter more than anything, and I'm so thankful to have her in my life. She was ready for me this morning with two wonderful presents...presents she has been bursting at the seams to give me since Friday. She is amazing, and my life is amazing because of her.
We did go to breakfast today, and watched a movie. I don't know what I was thinking, saying yes. I can't do the friends thing. I need some time and space, and LOTS of it. I'm thankful that he sat aloof, playing with his new phone, reading emails from prospective booty calls, and text messaging and talking to his new girlfriend. It woke me up to the fact that there is no us anymore, because he's killed it. But Juju had an OK time, and I'm thinking she's not going to be overly traumatized if we move on. Which was another great thing to find out. My resilient little warrior.
So Juju & I went to a beautiful park, overlooking the sea. I felt a profound sadness there because it was the park Mr. & I went to on our first date, almost exactly 6 years ago now...our "anniversary", if you can call it that, is coming up really quick. We came home after, and chilled out. And here I am, blogging. Juju and I both had some boo boo tummies yesterday, and so tonight is for trying to feel better, hopefully body, mind and heart.
To all the people that suffer through these blogs with me, Happy Mother's Day if it applies to you. You are valued, and special. Thank you.

Eyes Wide Shut

I love finding out that someone thinks I've been put on the closet shelf. Quite a few days ago, which helped to contribute to the communication breakdown between the old man and I, I had a great conversation with a group leader I'd become acquainted with. Apparently she'd been told (before Mr. committed his faux pas and before he or I had any inkling things were going to take a turn for the worst) that he and I were "just about done". I was startled to hear her say it because, on that particular day, I hadn't yet made a final decision, and most importantly, Mr. & I hadn't even had a chance to have a real conversation about it, all the blogging aside. This particular group leader did not have access to my blog, and even if she had, isn't a blog reading kind of girl. So it came back to my ghost again, setting us up for failure, and announcing it to the world. I don't excuse Mr. his part in this ridiculous nonsense, it obviously takes more than one person to commit an indiscretion. But this just confirmed my opinion of the kind of person he's dealing with.
Tomorrow is Sunday....it was our unofficial day together for a couple of weeks. He's extended his hand in friendship to celebrate the holiday together. I accepted. I miss Mrs D. Juju misses her adopted family. Breakfast, a movie, some fun time....maybe even THAT DAMN KITE!! LOL. And we'll do it as friends, friends who still have the vivid memory of being lovers. That ought to go over well. I can't just walk away, unfortunately there is too much entanglement involved to do that. But things have changed, as all things do in time. Another chapter....the story goes on.
So Mr., I see as your anxiety level climbs over your upcoming special date, you turn to the person you feel has the sane, intelligent mind to support you through it. Yes, you have my full support, even if I think you are a flaming tard for getting into the mess in the first place. Just remember where you were when it happened. And remember who your company was when the second incident happened. It wasn't me. I can't wait till this freaking mess is done, so we can have a real decent fight about the whole mess. Yes, a knock down, drag out, old fashioned fight. Random wood? Yeah, I thought so...

Speak to Me

It's a human tragedy, there is just no other words to describe the sorrow of it. When two people, best friends, once so much in love can no longer communicate. Every word becomes strained, the silences stretch longer ....
I hate this part. I hate myself for becoming this. Becoming unable to speak without vitriol, being unable to say or even think in his presence without the images in my mind soiling it, making every moment painful, hurting myself, and him, and feeling pleasure amidst the ocean of rage, and the small beacon of guilt for behaving so.
I know things will fade in time. The anger, the feeling of being betrayed and abandoned. But there are so many memories in my mind that were full of joy, that now just seem dirty, and disillusioned. Like Prince. Mr expanded my joy of listening to him...even gave me Diamonds & Pearls. I can't listen to it any more...can't listen to Prince anymore with any enjoyment or without feeling, well, violated.
So the calls become fewer, and the distance grows. At least someone is happy about it. Maybe time and distance will make me less of a termigant. Maybe he'll remember he loved talking to me once. Maybe I'll be able to look back and see the man who was my friend some day. I've so few true ones in my life, it feels like the biggest heartbreak is losing one. For those real ones left in my life, I need you to know and feel how much I love and value you. And yes, I know I've only myself to blame in all of this.
I was reading another blog, a good one actually. The theme was letting go. When is it time to stop fighting? Sometimes a person's part in your story ends, and that's when it's time to let them go. I don't know how my story is going, or who's part is done. But I am definitely done fighting. No more beating the dead horse. No more jabs, or veiled insults. I'm sorry for that, it's not who I want to be. I don't want to read ahead into my story just yet, though. I've placed the bookmark for now because I need to catch my breath, blow my nose, and wipe my eyes.
Namaste

Bored Rantings

Today, the walls felt like they were getting just a little too close. I knew I had reached the peak of my boredom when doing the dishes, washing the sink, and tidying the bedroom felt good. I invited company over, but of course, it didn't work out, and I was left listening to the minutes tick by, waiting for my daughter to get out of school. I dutifully did my online applications. Three of them today, catching up for the week. It seems foolish and futile to keep applying when the phone never rings. I'm up to 28 applications sent out in the last few weeks....hopefully my waning patience will pay off soon.
So I thought about Mr some. I miss my friend. Never mind the sex part...I miss the person I used to holla at, and share stuff with. He's called, and at least I get a laugh whenever I hear his new ringtone. "Dirge of the Dead". LOL, he got quiet and hissed "nice" at me when I told him. We talked some, mostly about "safe" topics. His daughter, his job. My search, my daughter. We exchanged a few barbs, rather mild, and laughed that he was the devil.
I had asked him some weeks ago whether I was the fire or the ice. I was fully prepared to be named the Ice. It's what had been flung at me in college..."ice queen". It's a hurtful kind of name, one that implies frigidness, an inability to feel, to love. An inability to share passion. I even prompted Mr when I asked him " Well, which one am I then...the ice?" He looked up from the computer screen, a bit startled then, rather taken aback. "My god no Dots, you are all fire." "Really?" I asked...it was my turn to be startled. "Why, because of my flaming temper?" LOL, well, everyone knows I have this HORRID temper. Mr won't come within 30 miles of me when he knows I'm good and pissed. Smart man. But to my surprise he answered "No! It's because you do that screaming thing, and sometimes when I wake at night, I can still hear your screams." Wow, it was a genuine feel good moment.....of course I'm convinced he told the other one a similar story.
Thankfully tomorrow I get some time away. I have some decisions to make, decisions that have to be made in his presence. We'll get that short bit of time tomorrow, and I hope to keep my temper firmly in control. I suppose if it gets too tense, I can always play his ringtone and get a laugh. LOL

The Thing About Great Weekends is...

So, I've had a couple of good weekends in a row, and then some really shitty days. But I rethought my eight year old's advice, and decided she was right. LOL! So I'm happy to report that I've had another amazing weekend. It was kind of bittersweet since my "partner in crime" wasn't there to hold my hand, and say nasty things, but MY GOD. It still blew my mind.
I don't want to pout and sulk, and wallow in self pity because Mr has moved on. I'm a grown woman, with lots of opportunities, and a stable, sane mind for picking and choosing the best of the crop. It won't be the same....he was my introduction to the lifestyle, and he really did make it special. Thank you Mr, for that experience. But I'm not going to give it up simply because he's found greener pastures. The thing about the lifestyle is that the people are so amazing. As a couple, we had made so many sincere friends that truly cared about us, and would gladly rock our world too. Those people haven't disappeared. They still care about ME, as a person, and still want to rock my world, even without King Dong along. That makes the separation a little easier in the end. And hell....meeting new people is exciting as all get-out! The nervous flutters, the little catches in breath...it's validation that we are so alive and vibrant.
But familiar lovers are a comfort too, and so I spent my weekend enveloped in the safe haven of their arms. I looked in the mirror this morning, and felt more beautiful than I had in a long time, knowing I had given, and received an amazing night. Thank you so much, both of you. It was so great to scream, and laugh, and just love again, without all the insecurities I've been toting around lately. You guys rock! Ohhhh, and Shaggy? It's a good look for you, don't get rid of it! MWAH!

Dear Abby...err....Juju

I was talking to my eight year old and asking her advice. I find myself so wrapped up in all my feelings that I thought it might be interesting to have the direct, unfettered knowledge of a child. So I asked..."Juju, what would you do if someone broke a promise to you?" She cocked her head to the side, and thoughtfully replied "What kind of promise?". "A really important promise, something that can make your heart happy or sad.", I told her. "I'd have to think about it a lot", she said, "cuz I'm not sure". "What if they'd broken that same promise before...broken the promise a lot?" "Well", as she rubbed my shoulder, "I'd do it back to them so that they know how awful it feels, and they'd stop doing it".
I caught the plague, and so I got to spend the day in bed today feeling crappy, and thinking about everything. The thinking part, it can make a person crazy as it makes the monsters of the situation swirl around in your gut, causing all the ugly green bile to burn a hole. But as simple as the solution my eight year old thought up sounds, it is just such the wrong thing to do. Tempting as all hell, but the truth is that it wouldn't make a difference. It won't stop his shenanigans, it might halt them for a bit, like a few days if I'm lucky. But the inevitable will continue. My God, he only made the promise three freaking weeks ago. And he crashed and burned before the third week was up. She really must be something special, so I can only choose to turn my head, or walk away.
I can't turn my head.
The other things I thought about concerned the welfare of my daughter. We've incorporated her into our relationship. She loves him, loves Mrs D, and is totally crushing on Bubbles. Now I have to extract her from all that and try not to let my anger color how she remembers him. He's been good to and for her, and I can't ever forget that part. But what am I teaching my daughter if I stay in a relationship that will, without fail, hurt my heart over and over again. It's NOT OK to break promises, and it's NOT OK to cheat. I can't let her think it's OK for any man to treat HER that way in the future, and the best way to show her that is to lead by example.
I thought we could all be happy together, that we could make a fresh start and make everything work out. Get over all the hurdles he's got coming up, become financially stable, and just spend our time caring for each other and the ones we love. But it's not enough for him, and perhaps it was not what he wanted right now. I can't think about it anymore, because it does hurt my heart, and I don't want to feel this way anymore. He is very much like a drug though, and hopefully, the need to connect will lessen as the days go by. He reminds me very much of a song by Sara Bareilles titled Gravity:
Something always brings me back to you.
It never takes too long.
No matter what I say or do I'll still feel you here 'til the moment I'm gone.

You hold me without touch.
You keep me without chains.
I never wanted anything so much than to drown in your love and not feel your rain.

Chorus:
Set me free, leave me be. I don't want to fall another moment into your gravity.
Here I am and I stand so tall, just the way I'm supposed to be.
But you're on to me and all over me

So I can only pray, and hope for the best. What I can say, what has been stewing inside of me is this thought: Mr, you called it a war of blogs. A war can only exist when a contest needs to be won. I shouldn't have had to compete for your affections. I didn't know I was, which apparently put me behind the curve. I wrote my blogs of our good times out of the sheer joy of having spent the time with you, out of the bliss that comes from having (what I thought)was an amazing connection with my lover, having personal time that felt genuine, and made me want to cry to the world how much I loved you. That was the motive on my part. I won't try to justify myself a moment more, if you didn't understand that to begin with, there was more to our problem than just "that woman".
Be happy.

Ghost

There is a song that has been in my life for some time now. It came to me on a tape made by a great friend of mine. He made the most fantastic mixed tapes ever, but this particular one was incredibly bittersweet because it held a message for me of how he felt, and how he knew I didn't. The tape was titled "Triad", and was in reference to Me, Him, and Baby Daddy....who I had not quite gotten over, at the time. It is a beautiful haunting song, rather filled with venom, and it really wasn't until many many years later when the song itself, and not just the beautiful melody, started speaking to me on a soul level. Then I heard the real bitterness and rather vitriolic lyrics that the Indigo Girls had penned, and I felt them on a cellular level. I felt ashamed, when I realized the pain I was feeling...at the time, was the same kind of pain I had caused someone else. It was a lesson learned in shame, humility, forgiveness, and true friendship. To that person, who to this day still holds out his hand in friendship to me, and lets me know the door is always open should I change my mind....I'm sorry. Truly sorry I couldn't be the woman you wanted and needed. You've had the patience of a saint, and I'm thankful for you. I still can't be that woman for you, but you should know that I will always love and cherish you for the man that you are. Thank you for the lesson learned, and for the gift of the song.
Mr - I pass the song on to you.

There's a letter on the desktop that I dug out of a drawer
The last truce we ever came to from our adolescent war
And I start to feel the fever of the warm air through the screen
You come regular like seasons shadowing my dreams

The Mississippi's mighty, but it starts in Minnesota
At a place where you can walk across with five steps down
And that's just how you started like a pinprick to my heart
But at this point you rush right through me and I start to drown

There's not enough room in this world for my pain
Signals crossed and love gets lost and time passed makes it plain
Of all my demon spirits I need you the most
I'm in love with your ghost
I'm in love with your ghost

Dark and dangerous like a secret it gets whispered in a hush (don't tell a soul)
And when I wake the things I dreamt about you last night make me blush (don't tell a soul)
When you kiss me like a lover and you sting me like a viper
I go follow to the river play your memory like the piper

And I feel it like a sickness how this love is killing me
But I would walk into the fingers of your fire willingly
Dance the edge of sanity I've never been this close
In love with your ghost
oooooh-oooooooh-ooooooh-oooooooooh
oooooh-oooooooh-ooooooh-oooooooooh

Unknowing captor you'll never know how much you
Pierce my spirit but I can't touch you
Can you hear it a cry to be free
Oh I'm forever under lock and key
As you pass through me

Now I see your face before me I would launch a thousand ships
To bring your heart back to my island as the sand beneath me slips
I burn up in your presence and I know now how it feels
To be weakened like Achilles with you always at my heels

This bitter pill to swallow is the silence that I keep
It poisons me I can't swim free the river is too deep
Though I'm baptized by your touch I am no worse at most
In love with your ghost

Amy:
In love with your ghost
In love with your ghost
Emily:
You are shadowing my dreams

That Damn Shoe

I do live a part of my life waiting for the other shoe to drop. Specifically, waiting for something awful concerning Mr, as he pursues his shenanigans again. He's the kind of man that makes you want to believe the words that come out of his mouth. He seems genuine, and earnest. Seems loving, and caring. Seems to honestly believe the words he's feeding you as much as you want to believe them.
He seemed to want to make a fresh start. To put the past behind him, and move forward living a new life, free of deceit. He seemed to be making an effort to show me that I could earn his trust back. He told me every lovely thing a girl wants to hear. He told me that he loved me. He told me that he wasn't shit without me. He told me he was glad I was in his life and in his corner. I'd waited almost my whole life to believe in those words and to hear them come from the lips of someone I wanted, and trusted, and loved with all my being. Our romantic life was picture perfect. We even started squabbling like an old married couple.
But that ghost was always there. The ghost of "that woman" as he'd named her. "She who shall remain nameless" he'd joke. The mysterious absence of the truck from his driveway...the multiple calls he'd NOT take while he was with me. I knew they were her, I know what her ring tone was. And then of course her words, which a friend let me know about. Her words chronicling their escapades last weekend. I emailed it to him, and confronted with the words, the best he could do was that she "misremembered". HMMM. "So she lied?" I demanded..."No, she just misremembered". Well OK then.
I spent most of yesterday fighting off a high blood pressure headache. I had to call my doctor and have her renew my prescription...something I haven't had to take in almost a year. But this just put me over the edge. I couldn't breathe, and was on the verge of throwing up most of the day and night. Blessedly, I was able to sleep, virtually dream free.
What I do know about women, however, is that they don't "misremember" sex. They can fabricate it, with the sole ugly intention of hurting another human being and destroying a relationship. Or they can gloat about a real encounter that left them feeling amazing. I don't think I really care anymore, simply because my fucking head hurts too much. Whatever the version of the story, it's destroyed every last bit of credibility and trust he seemed to want to rebuild. He told me once the reason we work so well as a couple is because I always knew when he was talking bullshit. My head may hurt an awful lot, and my face may be as red as a tomato, but I still know.