| 1. | Butter Chops | 4 thumbs down |
|
A derogatory term. A person who takes insane
risks while being completely unaware of any danger. The important part
of this definition is that the person has repeatedly suffered the
consequences of this without learning anything from it.
Person
A: "Damn you butter chops! how many times are you going to crash your
car before you decide to start putting your seatbelt on"
Person B: "Just because i broke my ribs on the steering wheel doesn't mean i should have to start using seatbelts, i can't undo my broken ribs by putting it on now you know!." Person A: "Yeah but you can stop it from happening again!" Person B: "That makes no sense!" Person A: "BUTTER CHOPS!" | ||
Thursday, July 26, 2012
Day 10
How fitting: from urban dictionary:
Sunday, July 22, 2012
Still Day 6
Does the other ever show up on your front door, asking you to reconsider? Telling you they fucked up, and then follow through with a solid attempt at fixing things?
Day 6.5
It's my birthday today. A bittersweet day. To solidify transition, I went skydiving for the first time, and scheduled it to be as close to the time of my physical birth as possible. It was the first time in perhaps, ever, that I just let go of all control and could relax. If that makes sense.
I wrote him the words I needed to express in a letter, and placed it in a card and put it in his door. I explained that each time he retreats, it just remixes the toxicity of my emotions, and that I can't do it any more. I am not an angry person, yet I am overwhelmed with anger. I thanked him for reminding me what it is that is missing in my life, I pointed out the irony of how he can be with women for years who mistreat and emotionally abuse him, yet ran away when he actually had someone who was pushing him to be the best he can be. And I outlined the fact that ultimately, for me, it was his lies that I could not live with. When I am feeling at my most insecure, I question if he ever felt anything for me. That is no way to live.
I told him that I hope he succeeds in his life, and that both he and I know he has many demons to face along the way if he is ever to be the man he wants to be. And, I told him that he needs to find a therapist he likes and respects to help guide him: we all need help sometimes, and he isn't going to find his way out alone.
Today is about letting go. Letting go of control, and relaxing as everything falls where it will.
I wrote him the words I needed to express in a letter, and placed it in a card and put it in his door. I explained that each time he retreats, it just remixes the toxicity of my emotions, and that I can't do it any more. I am not an angry person, yet I am overwhelmed with anger. I thanked him for reminding me what it is that is missing in my life, I pointed out the irony of how he can be with women for years who mistreat and emotionally abuse him, yet ran away when he actually had someone who was pushing him to be the best he can be. And I outlined the fact that ultimately, for me, it was his lies that I could not live with. When I am feeling at my most insecure, I question if he ever felt anything for me. That is no way to live.
I told him that I hope he succeeds in his life, and that both he and I know he has many demons to face along the way if he is ever to be the man he wants to be. And, I told him that he needs to find a therapist he likes and respects to help guide him: we all need help sometimes, and he isn't going to find his way out alone.
Today is about letting go. Letting go of control, and relaxing as everything falls where it will.
Saturday, July 21, 2012
Day 6
Still...nothing. The other night, when we last communicated, we discussed the picture. I was angry, and I told him it reminded me of the night I saw the first flag, and should have run. I asked why he kept it, and he said it reminded him of a fun time we had together.
Anyhow, last night, I pasted the description of the picture, and what it means to, into fb chat. I don't know if he googled it, and found his way here. Or if he just honestly is ignoring me. However, I am sure that the words I write sting. I would avoid me if I read them.
Thing is...I only posted the comment after I searched for the words...and got nothing. It wasn't until later that I realized there is a "blogs" tab on the side that enables a different search. I doubt he is as naive as me. So, alas, we may never have that chat.
Perhaps it's for the best. I mean...where would the conversation go, anyhow? What does he have to say that is going to make the sting of all this subside? Make me heal any faster? Trust any sooner? He is no magician. His words are not magic.
Anyhow, last night, I pasted the description of the picture, and what it means to, into fb chat. I don't know if he googled it, and found his way here. Or if he just honestly is ignoring me. However, I am sure that the words I write sting. I would avoid me if I read them.
Thing is...I only posted the comment after I searched for the words...and got nothing. It wasn't until later that I realized there is a "blogs" tab on the side that enables a different search. I doubt he is as naive as me. So, alas, we may never have that chat.
Perhaps it's for the best. I mean...where would the conversation go, anyhow? What does he have to say that is going to make the sting of all this subside? Make me heal any faster? Trust any sooner? He is no magician. His words are not magic.
An Hour Later
I am trying very hard to not allow the anger that I am starting to feel from engulfing me. I can feel pressure in my chest from pain and frustration crushing my pride. It is in moments like these that the desire to lash out begins, and if I do not find a way to manage these moments, I don't know if I will ever be able to fully prevent this all too fucked up reaction. At times like this, I have a hard time not getting into my car and driving to his home. I think what stops me is not knowing what I would do when I got there. Turn around in shame? Wait for him to exit outside to smoke? And if so, then what? What is there to say?
When this all started, when he first shut me out, I did do this. I was in such a state of disbelief, that I had to confront him. Who breaks up in silence? The words "this is not working, and we should go our separate ways" need to be said! They were not said then, nor were they said now.
That he avoids conversation, communication, and this necessary conversation highlights how cowardly he is. That only fuels my anger, and it makes me wish to show him his diminutive reflection. He is no man when he hides; just a child. A pitiful child lacking the ability to find words and formulate sentences. Then, momentarily, the anger subsides and pity pools in. How sad of an existence, when one can not find the strength to express their emotions, thoughts, perspective. I feel sorry for him. And I oscillate. By the second. It forms a whirlwind of confused emotion inside me, and I experience a type of rage that I have never experienced before. I hope to never experience this again, after I have been able to let go and move on.
Sylvia Plath said, in The Bell Jar, "If you expect nothing from somebody you are never disappointed." I want to expect nothing, but I do not even know where to begin. The concept is so foreign to me that I am utterly lost when imagining its actualization. And, then I have to ask...is respecting me enough to give me even the slightest bit of perspective really asking too much?
When we were on a three and a half week road trip this past spring, there was a nearly 24-hour period of complete silence on his part. It had been a long day. We began in Asheville, NC, where we had stayed the night prior at a Ramada Inn. We had fought that day, though I don't recall what over. We barely spoke to one another as we settled in the room, and throughout the night. The next morning, however, we set aside our frustrations, and ended up having sex on the dining table. When we went to leave for our next destination, my car "check engine light" turned on and my car horn made random beeping. We spent the next couple of hours dealing with car issues, and then finally were on our way.
We arrived at the field site in late afternoon, and I ate half of a bagel that I had taken from the motel breakfast buffet. We searched out salamanders that afternoon, and into the evening well past dark. We were incredibly successful, and despite a patchy morning, the afternoon had been good to us. But then, now it was night. He had not eaten all day, and he was grumpy and exhausted. He refused to camp in an established camp ground, as it was after 10 pm and he didn't want to disturb anyone. I was tired, and I didn't want to fight...so I pulled into a view point parking lot for the night. He was in the back food bin gathering the bagel he hadn't eaten that I had grabbed for him that morning, and I asked him to hand me my other half. After what seemed to be five minutes of him saying "I don't see it," I turned around and saw him with three circular halves on his plate...and I pointed out that three halves is more than an whole, and that the third was what I had asked him to hand me. He immediately grew more angry than I had ever seen, and started screaming about the bagels.
I don't recall his words, but I do recall how he came to his side of the car and threw the entire plate of bagels in my direction, though at the dash, not necessarily me. I was completely shocked, and had no idea how to respond. So, I just took the dogs to the bathroom, returned to the car, and tried to go to sleep. He had had random outbursts before, but this was the first of this magnitude. I honestly had no idea what the trigger had been, and why anything to do with a bagel could possibly make anyone nearly that angry. The next day, we continued in silence. He spent the day in and out of sleep, slouched against the passengers door while I tried my best to go about my collecting. At some point early evening, just before dark, I asked him "If I find a campground, will you at least help me set up the tent." He agreed with a nod, maybe a word. And conversation slowly began.
We stood in a slight drizzle after the tent was set up, and I looked at him and asked why he had been so upset. His response? That he had become incredibly frustrated by not being able to find the bagel. He said I eat exactly half of everything: in his mind he was looking for half a bagel...and he moved his hand up and down, indicating he was looking for a half circle with a top and bottom, not a full circle of just top or bottom. This combined with the fact that he had not eaten all day drove him to the edge, and that I had ignored his request for a cigarette, though I sat and smoked in front of him, drove him over the edge. The problem was that I had not ignored his request: I had not even heard it.
"XXXX," I said to him, "I have told you before that you do not need to ask. If you want a cigarette, just take one." He looked at me in a manner that suggested he didn't quite understand. I then asked, "So, in your mind, all last night and all today, I have been smoking in front of you as what? Punishment? If you were out, why didn't you tell me? I could have got you some this morning when I stopped for gas, and got us both a sandwich and soda." (I was paying him to be my assistant on this trip, and it ended up that I just paid for what he wanted or needed as we went along, and reimbursed him the remainder later [it had not dawned on me that my bank would not be in NC or TN, so I couldn't stop by a branch and withdraw cash...and I hate to use ATMs where I have to pay extra fees...besides, it wasn't a problem as we were together continuously, and if he wanted something, I was there to pay for it]...and while I had not asked, it was clear that other than what I was paying him, he had no money).
I continued..."Why would I do that?," referring to the silent and intent punishment. His response? "I thought you were still mad about me not wanting to camp in a camp ground."
It seemed so bizarre to me that I had to ask, "Why would I EVER punish you? Why would I sit next to you and refuse to give you something so simple as a cigarette? I would NEVER do that to you. I would never do that to ANYONE." I added, jokingly, "If I wanted to punish someone, I would have children...but I don't." He told me that this is how he had been treated by others before me...that multiple exes of his had punished him in such a manner.
I embraced him, and in the increasingly strong drizzle, told him that I am not his exes, I am me. And such behavior is entirely inconceivable to me. I told him I was so sorry that he had been treated in that manner...and I promised that I would NEVER do that to him. I then told him that he can not have fits of anger as he had had the night before, that it scared me. I explained that never before have I experienced something of that nature, and I didn't want to experience it ever again. We continued to embrace one another, I though having reached a mutual understanding that respect of one another was integral to me, and integral for our relationship.
This is why, when he gave me the silent-treatment the first time, I was in such shock and so distraught. I had told him in the rain that I would respect him, and I would never passively punish him. However, that is exactly what it felt he was doing to me. I had told him another time that the silent treatment is the ONE THING that I can not handle more than anything else. Yet, he was doing it to me.
XXXX has a number of unique 'quirks.' The bagel incident will forever stand out, because in his mind, he was entirely incapable of viewing a bagel half as anything other than a top and bottom, cut vertically. Even when looking right at three halves, he had nothing click in his mind. And the outbursts. That wasn't the first, nor was it the last. But they always happened rapidly, and without any intentional provocation. And, when we talked about them later, they were always based in misunderstanding...him not understanding me or the tone of voice that should have indicated sarcasm or fear underlying my words. Later, I came to conclude that he has Asperger's syndrome (the diagnosis was not based solely on the bagel or the outbursts...and, I am sure I will get around to the details of this at a later post).
Anyhow, his silent retreats. They are likely a function of Asperger's, and are what is called a "shut down" or a "melt down." Despite the fact that I rationally know that he is not doing these to hurt me, I am still hurt. And, in my mind, I begin to oscillate between Asperger's and Anti-Social Personality Disorder (AKA Sociopath). I may honestly never know which he is...he has characteristics of both. However, in my oscillations, I always remember how gentle he is/was most of the time. How he would reach out and grab my hand all the time: walking, driving, whatever. I always remember the defeat in his eyes, and the heaviness of his heart, when he explained to me how he just EXPECTED me to be punishing him for the night before. How he was so afraid of hurting me during sex that he had a difficult time performing some of the things I asked (like pulling my hair or choking me). I remember these, and I know in my heart that while many things may not have been as I had thought, these were. Lies are words, not actions. You can lie about where you have been, or what you have been doing. But to lie in ones actions...that is a real gift, and only a true sociopath is capable of this. Hence, when I get very confused and very emotional, I being to question EVERYTHING. Hence, why I am so desperate for answers, why I have so many questions, and why I can't just let go.
He is either the most evil individual I have ever crossed paths with, lying in his every word and action just to reel me in and ultimately try to destroy me...or he is a scared, confused man who has been so mistreated his entire life that he honestly has been robbed of most of his strength.
I don't know. My heart tells me one thing, my fear and my anxiety tell me another. My rational mind does not have the answer, and my emotions can not seem to agree.
When this all started, when he first shut me out, I did do this. I was in such a state of disbelief, that I had to confront him. Who breaks up in silence? The words "this is not working, and we should go our separate ways" need to be said! They were not said then, nor were they said now.
That he avoids conversation, communication, and this necessary conversation highlights how cowardly he is. That only fuels my anger, and it makes me wish to show him his diminutive reflection. He is no man when he hides; just a child. A pitiful child lacking the ability to find words and formulate sentences. Then, momentarily, the anger subsides and pity pools in. How sad of an existence, when one can not find the strength to express their emotions, thoughts, perspective. I feel sorry for him. And I oscillate. By the second. It forms a whirlwind of confused emotion inside me, and I experience a type of rage that I have never experienced before. I hope to never experience this again, after I have been able to let go and move on.
Sylvia Plath said, in The Bell Jar, "If you expect nothing from somebody you are never disappointed." I want to expect nothing, but I do not even know where to begin. The concept is so foreign to me that I am utterly lost when imagining its actualization. And, then I have to ask...is respecting me enough to give me even the slightest bit of perspective really asking too much?
When we were on a three and a half week road trip this past spring, there was a nearly 24-hour period of complete silence on his part. It had been a long day. We began in Asheville, NC, where we had stayed the night prior at a Ramada Inn. We had fought that day, though I don't recall what over. We barely spoke to one another as we settled in the room, and throughout the night. The next morning, however, we set aside our frustrations, and ended up having sex on the dining table. When we went to leave for our next destination, my car "check engine light" turned on and my car horn made random beeping. We spent the next couple of hours dealing with car issues, and then finally were on our way.
We arrived at the field site in late afternoon, and I ate half of a bagel that I had taken from the motel breakfast buffet. We searched out salamanders that afternoon, and into the evening well past dark. We were incredibly successful, and despite a patchy morning, the afternoon had been good to us. But then, now it was night. He had not eaten all day, and he was grumpy and exhausted. He refused to camp in an established camp ground, as it was after 10 pm and he didn't want to disturb anyone. I was tired, and I didn't want to fight...so I pulled into a view point parking lot for the night. He was in the back food bin gathering the bagel he hadn't eaten that I had grabbed for him that morning, and I asked him to hand me my other half. After what seemed to be five minutes of him saying "I don't see it," I turned around and saw him with three circular halves on his plate...and I pointed out that three halves is more than an whole, and that the third was what I had asked him to hand me. He immediately grew more angry than I had ever seen, and started screaming about the bagels.
I don't recall his words, but I do recall how he came to his side of the car and threw the entire plate of bagels in my direction, though at the dash, not necessarily me. I was completely shocked, and had no idea how to respond. So, I just took the dogs to the bathroom, returned to the car, and tried to go to sleep. He had had random outbursts before, but this was the first of this magnitude. I honestly had no idea what the trigger had been, and why anything to do with a bagel could possibly make anyone nearly that angry. The next day, we continued in silence. He spent the day in and out of sleep, slouched against the passengers door while I tried my best to go about my collecting. At some point early evening, just before dark, I asked him "If I find a campground, will you at least help me set up the tent." He agreed with a nod, maybe a word. And conversation slowly began.
We stood in a slight drizzle after the tent was set up, and I looked at him and asked why he had been so upset. His response? That he had become incredibly frustrated by not being able to find the bagel. He said I eat exactly half of everything: in his mind he was looking for half a bagel...and he moved his hand up and down, indicating he was looking for a half circle with a top and bottom, not a full circle of just top or bottom. This combined with the fact that he had not eaten all day drove him to the edge, and that I had ignored his request for a cigarette, though I sat and smoked in front of him, drove him over the edge. The problem was that I had not ignored his request: I had not even heard it.
"XXXX," I said to him, "I have told you before that you do not need to ask. If you want a cigarette, just take one." He looked at me in a manner that suggested he didn't quite understand. I then asked, "So, in your mind, all last night and all today, I have been smoking in front of you as what? Punishment? If you were out, why didn't you tell me? I could have got you some this morning when I stopped for gas, and got us both a sandwich and soda." (I was paying him to be my assistant on this trip, and it ended up that I just paid for what he wanted or needed as we went along, and reimbursed him the remainder later [it had not dawned on me that my bank would not be in NC or TN, so I couldn't stop by a branch and withdraw cash...and I hate to use ATMs where I have to pay extra fees...besides, it wasn't a problem as we were together continuously, and if he wanted something, I was there to pay for it]...and while I had not asked, it was clear that other than what I was paying him, he had no money).
I continued..."Why would I do that?," referring to the silent and intent punishment. His response? "I thought you were still mad about me not wanting to camp in a camp ground."
It seemed so bizarre to me that I had to ask, "Why would I EVER punish you? Why would I sit next to you and refuse to give you something so simple as a cigarette? I would NEVER do that to you. I would never do that to ANYONE." I added, jokingly, "If I wanted to punish someone, I would have children...but I don't." He told me that this is how he had been treated by others before me...that multiple exes of his had punished him in such a manner.
I embraced him, and in the increasingly strong drizzle, told him that I am not his exes, I am me. And such behavior is entirely inconceivable to me. I told him I was so sorry that he had been treated in that manner...and I promised that I would NEVER do that to him. I then told him that he can not have fits of anger as he had had the night before, that it scared me. I explained that never before have I experienced something of that nature, and I didn't want to experience it ever again. We continued to embrace one another, I though having reached a mutual understanding that respect of one another was integral to me, and integral for our relationship.
This is why, when he gave me the silent-treatment the first time, I was in such shock and so distraught. I had told him in the rain that I would respect him, and I would never passively punish him. However, that is exactly what it felt he was doing to me. I had told him another time that the silent treatment is the ONE THING that I can not handle more than anything else. Yet, he was doing it to me.
XXXX has a number of unique 'quirks.' The bagel incident will forever stand out, because in his mind, he was entirely incapable of viewing a bagel half as anything other than a top and bottom, cut vertically. Even when looking right at three halves, he had nothing click in his mind. And the outbursts. That wasn't the first, nor was it the last. But they always happened rapidly, and without any intentional provocation. And, when we talked about them later, they were always based in misunderstanding...him not understanding me or the tone of voice that should have indicated sarcasm or fear underlying my words. Later, I came to conclude that he has Asperger's syndrome (the diagnosis was not based solely on the bagel or the outbursts...and, I am sure I will get around to the details of this at a later post).
Anyhow, his silent retreats. They are likely a function of Asperger's, and are what is called a "shut down" or a "melt down." Despite the fact that I rationally know that he is not doing these to hurt me, I am still hurt. And, in my mind, I begin to oscillate between Asperger's and Anti-Social Personality Disorder (AKA Sociopath). I may honestly never know which he is...he has characteristics of both. However, in my oscillations, I always remember how gentle he is/was most of the time. How he would reach out and grab my hand all the time: walking, driving, whatever. I always remember the defeat in his eyes, and the heaviness of his heart, when he explained to me how he just EXPECTED me to be punishing him for the night before. How he was so afraid of hurting me during sex that he had a difficult time performing some of the things I asked (like pulling my hair or choking me). I remember these, and I know in my heart that while many things may not have been as I had thought, these were. Lies are words, not actions. You can lie about where you have been, or what you have been doing. But to lie in ones actions...that is a real gift, and only a true sociopath is capable of this. Hence, when I get very confused and very emotional, I being to question EVERYTHING. Hence, why I am so desperate for answers, why I have so many questions, and why I can't just let go.
He is either the most evil individual I have ever crossed paths with, lying in his every word and action just to reel me in and ultimately try to destroy me...or he is a scared, confused man who has been so mistreated his entire life that he honestly has been robbed of most of his strength.
I don't know. My heart tells me one thing, my fear and my anxiety tell me another. My rational mind does not have the answer, and my emotions can not seem to agree.
Day 5.5
I don't know if it's a setback. I don't know what it is.
The person of my breakup finally responded to my facebook messages. We had an open line of communication, and he agreed to meet in person. I explained that since we never talked about our expectations and never expressed our disappointments, that doing so would be good. For me at least.
We were supposed to meet yesterday, but he had an excuse. He said he would contact me today, and we would do it today. We continued to converse about a few things, such as why his facebook picture is still the one I took. He told me it was because it reminded me of a fun time we had together. I cried. I told him that never before have I wanted a relationship to work so badly, and that under other circumstances we would be amazing. But, with us each as we are today, it won't. And I cried some more. I really did look forward to the meeting today, though maybe it's best he has retreated into silence again.
I met with a counselor today; the intro meeting. He wanted to know what I hoped to get from this, and I explained that I know we can not change others, and we can not alter their behavior, but we do have the ability to control our own responses. I want to understand the motives of him and others who have hurt me, and I want to learn a healthy way to respond. I wan't too sold on the guy, but at the end he said something that makes me think he might be able to offer insight. He told me that because of my chaotic unstable upbringing, I am naturally going to seek out dynamic and chaotic relationships. Only one of my relationships was "unexciting" to me. And, while probably being the most stable relationship I ever had, I was unable to love this man, and after 2.5 years, ended up terminating things. The two people with whom I have had the fastest and hardest attraction to, however, were rather dynamic individuals. The person of now, and the person of 10 years ago. The relationships, however, were quite different...though both did offer me a sense of really being alive...really FEELING something.
I don't want to think that I am never going to be satisfied with someone who is stable, and that I will never be able to love someone who doesn't trigger to some extent the lava lurking beneath my surface. However, the idea of a relationship without passion...unadulterated raw desire and a sense of something greater than myself that I am unable to control...it's unappealing.
Then again, so too is being destroyed once more by that which I can not control.
The person of my breakup finally responded to my facebook messages. We had an open line of communication, and he agreed to meet in person. I explained that since we never talked about our expectations and never expressed our disappointments, that doing so would be good. For me at least.
We were supposed to meet yesterday, but he had an excuse. He said he would contact me today, and we would do it today. We continued to converse about a few things, such as why his facebook picture is still the one I took. He told me it was because it reminded me of a fun time we had together. I cried. I told him that never before have I wanted a relationship to work so badly, and that under other circumstances we would be amazing. But, with us each as we are today, it won't. And I cried some more. I really did look forward to the meeting today, though maybe it's best he has retreated into silence again.
I met with a counselor today; the intro meeting. He wanted to know what I hoped to get from this, and I explained that I know we can not change others, and we can not alter their behavior, but we do have the ability to control our own responses. I want to understand the motives of him and others who have hurt me, and I want to learn a healthy way to respond. I wan't too sold on the guy, but at the end he said something that makes me think he might be able to offer insight. He told me that because of my chaotic unstable upbringing, I am naturally going to seek out dynamic and chaotic relationships. Only one of my relationships was "unexciting" to me. And, while probably being the most stable relationship I ever had, I was unable to love this man, and after 2.5 years, ended up terminating things. The two people with whom I have had the fastest and hardest attraction to, however, were rather dynamic individuals. The person of now, and the person of 10 years ago. The relationships, however, were quite different...though both did offer me a sense of really being alive...really FEELING something.
I don't want to think that I am never going to be satisfied with someone who is stable, and that I will never be able to love someone who doesn't trigger to some extent the lava lurking beneath my surface. However, the idea of a relationship without passion...unadulterated raw desire and a sense of something greater than myself that I am unable to control...it's unappealing.
Then again, so too is being destroyed once more by that which I can not control.
Monday, July 16, 2012
Day One
THIS IS A BLOG ABOUT MY ATTEMPT TO OVERCOME A SHITTY BREAKUP IN 30 DAYS. It's going to be brutally honest. At times, I might seem collected...perhaps even wise. At others, I might seem unhinged...perhaps even utterly crazy. It's real...I'm real...and this is sometimes just how it goes.
I wouldn't need this if I could get the one thing I need: closure. However, when your ex refuses to take your calls, answer your texts, and blocks you from facebook...it's kinda hard to achieve closure. At least in the sense that I need: a brutally honest conversation about what happened, from beginning to end. The story of why we came to be, and why we fell apart: but from his side.
In the beginning, it
felt like a fairy tale. I hadn't been that swept off my feet in years.
The last person who made me feel this way had been on the order of 10 years prior. For the past 7 years, I'd been avoiding relationships, and I was terrified to follow him into the unknown. He knew this: I made it perfectly clear. When I stalled at
his proposition of exclusivity less than a week in, he told me that he would be patient. I was worth it.
However, his boyish charm, the way he looked at me with adoring eyes, and
the ear to ear grin he couldn't wipe off his face broke down my walls.
Before I knew it, I caved, and I was officially his girlfriend, he was officially my boyfriend. I even came up
with an utterly cheezy nick name for him, my way of saying "you can't call
me hon, but you can call me something unique with the same sentiment."
It was Butter Chops. Yes, I called him Butter Chops. And each
time, it made us both smile.
He was the kind of guy
who would reach over and take your hand randomly. And it was the kind of
hand you just didn't want to let go of: or at least, I didn't want to let
go of.
At first, we
were practically inseparable.
The night before I agreed to "us," we consummated the couch at my work. Now, whenever I look at that couch, it makes my stomach churn...and whenever I look at the hand towel (washed, of course), I think of how we used it to clean up our wet spot. That night was perfect at first. We explored the tunnels beneath my work...something he had done numerous times before me...something he will do numerous times after. We fondled, kissed, and even had sex up on a grated ledge. The Magnum wrapper likely is just where we left it, if not perhaps a few feet below on the ground. Fueled by PBR, it started out as the fifth best night of my life in who-the-hell knows how long. The others were the nights leading up to it, from the very first time we met in person. This night also turned out to be the night of the first red flag, and like most of the others, I tried to pay it little attention.
I had picked up a 12 pack of tall boys on our way to the tunnels. I think I had 3.5 down there, and was feeling pretty damn good. He had 6, maybe 7 or even 8. When we got back to my house, I had another, and he finished off the rest of the 12 pack. He ended up so drunk that night that he stumbled out my back door, onto the porch where we smoked. Standing in front of the wooden flower pot, I called him out for having got so drunk, and, of course, he got angry. Not like he screamed at me or anything..he just loudly proclaimed that he did not have a drinking problem. He was NOT my stepfather (I had grown up with an alcoholic stepfather, and as a result, am sensitive to what I perceive as alcoholism). In fact, according to him, he didn't (and doesn't) have an alcohol problem. After calming down, we hugged, kissed, and made love. Okay, I'm the first to admit that "making love" is hokey. But, honestly, that's what it was with us. He was the first person I had emotional sex with since my heart had been broken 10 years earlier, and the only person who wasn't just fucking since my failed rebound relationship had ended 7 years prior. With him, sex was gentle, passionate, and it swept me away.
The night before I agreed to "us," we consummated the couch at my work. Now, whenever I look at that couch, it makes my stomach churn...and whenever I look at the hand towel (washed, of course), I think of how we used it to clean up our wet spot. That night was perfect at first. We explored the tunnels beneath my work...something he had done numerous times before me...something he will do numerous times after. We fondled, kissed, and even had sex up on a grated ledge. The Magnum wrapper likely is just where we left it, if not perhaps a few feet below on the ground. Fueled by PBR, it started out as the fifth best night of my life in who-the-hell knows how long. The others were the nights leading up to it, from the very first time we met in person. This night also turned out to be the night of the first red flag, and like most of the others, I tried to pay it little attention.
I had picked up a 12 pack of tall boys on our way to the tunnels. I think I had 3.5 down there, and was feeling pretty damn good. He had 6, maybe 7 or even 8. When we got back to my house, I had another, and he finished off the rest of the 12 pack. He ended up so drunk that night that he stumbled out my back door, onto the porch where we smoked. Standing in front of the wooden flower pot, I called him out for having got so drunk, and, of course, he got angry. Not like he screamed at me or anything..he just loudly proclaimed that he did not have a drinking problem. He was NOT my stepfather (I had grown up with an alcoholic stepfather, and as a result, am sensitive to what I perceive as alcoholism). In fact, according to him, he didn't (and doesn't) have an alcohol problem. After calming down, we hugged, kissed, and made love. Okay, I'm the first to admit that "making love" is hokey. But, honestly, that's what it was with us. He was the first person I had emotional sex with since my heart had been broken 10 years earlier, and the only person who wasn't just fucking since my failed rebound relationship had ended 7 years prior. With him, sex was gentle, passionate, and it swept me away.
That night I took a
photo of him in the tunnels. In that picture, he has a half-drunk grin, and looks cute as
shit. Behind him, there are orange pipe-covers. I love this
picture, and when I told him how cute I thought he was in it, he immediately made
it his facebook photo. To this day, it still is his FB photo..as well as
is his primary photo for a number of other sites, including Scribbed and Planet
Infowars. Now, when I see this photo (although blocked from his FB, I
can still find my way to his main page, and obviously, I have not been above
seeking out other means to try and track his activities), I just feel sad.
It's my photo, of my night that started out so wonderfully, bottomed out
around the time the 10th tall boy was finished, and ended in a sweaty heap of
utterly satisfying sex. Point being, the photo has sentimental meaning to me, and I can't look at it now without crying. It is an image that I took of a man I had emotions for that I hadn't felt in years.
I'm not going to lie and
say it was all roses. The flag that night should have made me walk away,
but I couldn't. I mean, part of me wanted to...but the parts of me that
were ignited with lust, infatuation, and aflame with emotions that I still am unable to name were
too dominant.
A few days later, on the way back from my monthly trip to Costco, he gave me a tour of his hometown. I saw where he grew up, where he rode his bike with his friends, where we went to high school until the ill fated day he fought back against his abusive father, and was carted off to juvenile hall, and released into the group home he ran away from less than a month later. As a result of his openness and vulnerability, I honestly though that maybe this was going to be it; that he might actually become the love of my life.
A few days later, on the way back from my monthly trip to Costco, he gave me a tour of his hometown. I saw where he grew up, where he rode his bike with his friends, where we went to high school until the ill fated day he fought back against his abusive father, and was carted off to juvenile hall, and released into the group home he ran away from less than a month later. As a result of his openness and vulnerability, I honestly though that maybe this was going to be it; that he might actually become the love of my life.
Despite having
never finished high school, instead earning a GED, he was (and still is) one of
the brightest people I have had the chance of knowing. I have no
doubt in my mind that had he been born into a different family, he would have
been recruited by the likes of MIT. We would have never met, and he would
be a successful journalist somewhere based out of DC, traveling the world
uncovering stories of people standing strong in the face of political
injustice. Had he been born into a different family, the ghosts that he
can't shake would never have arisen from the dead, and the amazing person that
I have seen inside of his darkness would be the only him there is.
But, he wasn't born into
a different family, and that amazing person he was born to be was never allowed
to become fully actualized. Instead, he and I were two lost souls who
collided into one another while stumbling toward the light. Except, now,
I'm not so sure if he wasn't standing in the darkness while I was (and am)
still scrambling to get out.
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