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Archive for November, 2011

These days it’s been for 2 years that I left you. It lasted for 4 years and you were my first real long-lasting relationship. I have a lot to thank you actually, despite the way I treated you – that I didn’t realize the weight of my deeds, how f*cking much I hurt you because I was so young, unexperienced, bold, inconsiderate, busy to start something new. I’m grateful to you for helping me start to grow up. For taking me with you so early as the 3rd date to your brother’s family – me who’s basically a single kid without cheerful and loud family – and over the time just let me become part of it, have a 2nd family and find a step-mother in your sis-in-law. For renting a flat together, first time for me, when I started college in the neighbor town and to help me learn to lead an adult and own life. For tolerating my childish jealousy on your ex-wife whom you divorced about 5 years before meeting me. For showing me that some men do take their share of household duties, they are selfless, honorable, don’t always just want sex. For drawing and painting pictures of me – not only on canvas or paper, but on our kitchen wall based on Mucha’s Zodiac. For putting my self-confidence to normal and even boosting it during the whole relationship – by always incredibly proudly walking on my side and holding my hand despite having a higher degree or being a half-head taller than you. For going out to drink coffee or beer or hot chocolate and just chatting because we had many in common. Also for introducing me to your best friend whose small kids mentioned our names always together. For going together to the garden parties in your brother’s garden, getting drunk together and to a 1-week holiday every year. For being interested just on me and seeing me beautiful without any change in me (because you are an artist, you’ve got a different view to things). I’m so much grateful for having experienced that you and your family just purely loved me.

But I was too young for you, immature, we were in 2 different periods in our life. I was unable to appreciate, even perceive!, what a treasure I had. After 3,5 years I became bored or empty, longing for excitement, more and newer. I’d left you and quite soon that “new” came across. It punched me in the face, slapped my ass (like a strict dad punishes his nasty kid – painful, shocking but useful for the future) and butchered that trust and honor in men and self-confidence I had gained through the years by your side. Outside, I look better now, but not inside.

I wish you’ve recovered afterwards, became even more successful in your job and painting and you are happy and satisfied in your life.

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I cannot just casually wait for you to feel like contacting me. You contacted me all the time when you needed and wanted my support with your projects and problems. No matter what you were doing you texted or called because it was good for you. Even if I was busy at work or with friends, I was available to you-to listen to you, spend time with you, support you. You called me all the time because it helped you. I want the same back. You don’t want to give it. Now you want me to just stay away until it’s convenient for you to contact me. It’s not fair and it’s not a relationship or friendship. It’s me servicing you. It is what makes me furious and feel deserted and used.

Please. Just pay me back and let me go. This cycle of getting together, being close, having sex, trying to talk and work things out, and then you don’t answer me or reach out is too much for me. I don’t want it. I cannot be friends like this let alone a relationship with me. I feel disrespected. You reach out or respond to me only when you want, when it’s convenient for you. This is not a friendship, not a relationship. This is bad for me. Not safe. Scary and painful. Knowing you like this interferes with my life. Weakens me instead of strengthening me.

I want to get out of this. Everything is all on your terms. My life schedule and needs are not being respected. Please. I told you in many, many text messages and emails. Just pay me back so I can have closure and move on. I don’t want this in my life. It’s too painful and erratic. Please. If you have any care or respect for me, just pay me back and let me go. I want to end this and heal and move on. You blame it all on me every time. Last time I protested and got upset you yelled and cursed and yelled and cursed. I am scared to try to talk to you. Scared of your cruelty. You don’t take responsibility. You disappear and return whenever you want. You communicate only when you want. How you want. I do not want this.

These interactions are causing me pain. I want to stop it. You say you feel like I will never let you go. I feel like you won’t let me go. Just pay me back and cut off communication please. This is painful.

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Why do you break my heart like that again and again?
Why do you look at me the way you look at me?
Why do you look at him the way you look at him?
Why do you flirt with other boys right in front of me when you know it hurts me?

Why do I fall for it repeatedly?

I’ve never met anyone like you. I know that you’ve heard it before, but I can’t help but say it because it’s true.
You just aren’t like other girls.

Please be gentle with my fragile heart. I know you can’t, but maybe you could at least try.

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I met a perfect stranger today who knew you. They said they couldn’t imagine us dating. And then tried to backpedal and say how you were great and everything, we just didn’t match. I had to laugh a little at the apology attempts, trying to picture you and I together if I had never seen it.

You are the only person I have ever broken up with and not been sad about. I mean, I literally got exponentially happier every day you were out of my life. My entire extended family has commented to me how it’s a good thing we broke up. I guess no amount of trying will make it work.

Why do people always say you should make it work?

Sometimes the appeal is in it’s not working.

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You are too cool for me.
I’d see you at a party.
From across the room it’s clear your friends have those hipster bangs.
You are behind a pole.
Drinking some hipster beer.
I’d not recognize the music.
Why is that somehow appealing?
You probably smoke cigarettes.
Again, not at all appealing, but adding to that you are too cool for me thing.

When we finally make out weeks later it turns out you aren’t cooler than me.
Your clothes kind of stink like thrift store.
Your music is boring.
Your cigarette mouth tastes gross.
That hipster beer is just plain cheap.
Your friends have hair in their face, but nothing interesting to say.
Your apartment is dirty like a college kid.

What was your allure? I could have garnered all that from the signs.
But too cool for me is just somehow always kind of appealing. Ugh.
Next time, stay behind the pole.

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I think you were the only qualified badass I ever had a crush on.
We had so many adorable inside jokes it was appalling.
Your hair was long enough to tuck it behind your ear.
The entire school knew you had a crush on me.
It was the way you leaned up against my locker.
The way you’d play that dots game in my notebook as an excuse for your finger to brush mine.
The way you’d watch me while pretending to watch the football game.
Very telling.
Sometimes I wish I could feel that sort of terrified attraction again.
It only happens when you are 15.
Now I just wouldn’t glance twice at you. Of course we would never fit.
Though we could have then, even if it was just for a minute.
Minutes are much longer when you have the ache of a teenager.

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You straight up want me to write something filthy about you. Yet I am so terrified of revealing the secret. And you already know that I think the absolute dirtiest things about you. So I probably shouldn’t make it explicit, right? Let you know that I have fantasized about taking you in the back room, you pushing me against the wall and holding my body up with your hips. Taking you in the parking lot, where I have a strangely erotic association with you. That I’ve imagined pushing you discreetly into the bathroom, your hand firmly over my mouth to muffle my inevitable screams. The front seat of my car, or better, the bed of your truck. The hidden roof garden in the middle of the day. Sunshine beating down on our sweaty selves.

I love the feel of your body and mine. I love the idea of you finally getting to touch me in all the places you aren’t allowed. Pull my hair just a little to draw me closer to you. Grab a handful of my ass while I straddle you. Kiss my neck, my tits, my hips.

I’ve tasted just enough to know it would be worth it. Know it would be fun. Perfect. As hot as your dreams and mine.

You know my panties are getting wet as I write this. The perfect pair to slip into your pocket – to fulfill what fantasy of yours, I’m not sure. You must get off on the risk of getting caught. But we both know we couldn’t go through with it. Or we already would have again and again. You’ll just have to get your heart rate up knowing that you’ll never really know all the dirty thoughts I have reserved only for you. It’s innocent enough. Or not innocent at all.

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i have fought with myself over love.

i have fought to love–to love hard, to be free to love. i have wanted to love people who couldn’t love themselves. i have cared for their growth. i have tried to help them find themselves. i have loved when i could not be loved in return.

i have fought to keep my love silent for fear of being vulnerable and just another silly girl. i never wanted to be just a girl. i have goals and dreams and hopes for myself, and i’ve been taught that love and independence don’t mix. scratch that. not even love. relationships and independence don’t mix. after all, aren’t i supposed to trade my reproductive capacity for protection?

you. i want to rely on you. i want to depend on you. fuck this paradigm of diminishing co-dependency and elevating self-reliance. depending on you isn’t a weakness in me. it reveals all that we can and are willing to give to each other. i don’t want to be self-reliant. i want my health, my happiness, my life to be wrapped up in yours. i want to build something with you, for us to grow together, to nourish each other. we are better with each other. we are better on each other, in each other. through each other, we are better.

i cherish you, and i will fight for us.

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Wow, you are totally married now. That’s weird.

I heard about you for years and years before I ever met you. You were a close friend of one of my best friends, and she had endless affectionate anecdotes about you from college. It always seemed strange to me that we’d never met since we’d all gone to college together and been in very close social proximity.

When we finally did meet, I remember being totally entertained that my friend was hooking up with you, her legendary college buddy. You had a girlfriend and apparently some kind of “understanding.” But you two only hooked up a couple times. Maybe your “understanding” was nullified? It was never totally clear to me. I was in a serious monog’ thing then, and I couldn’t help but act extremely aloof around dudes I found attractive.

I saw you again when I was back on the sexual upswing. I had just gone on a really fantastic first date a few days before and was feeling totally foxy, even though I wasn’t really on the prowl. But I saw you and went full tilt flirt. You still had that same girlfriend, but I’d never met her, so she didn’t really exist. The bike ride back to your house is still so vivid: me sitting on the seat, holding onto you for dear life, squealing as you pedaled down the street. We reached our destination, and I was still squealing. You grabbed me and suddenly we were making out on the hood of a car.

Every time you would reappear, you were exactly what I needed. After I’d been dumped by a dude who I was really starting to like, you invited yourself over to my house to make me an epic steak dinner. That was when I found out that you’d dropped out of college to become a chef for a while, before pursuing the zillion advanced math degrees you have now. Because you totally needed to be a sexier human being.

There was the time that you invited me to your “office hours” on the top floor of the math building on my old college campus. I bragged to probably too many people that I’d gotten to fuck a math professor. You seemed a little disappointed that it wasn’t the first time I’d fucked on campus.

But you always had this mysterious girlfriend character who lived like a million miles away. I remember saying to you that I really enjoyed messing around with you, because you had a girlfriend so it completely didn’t matter whether you liked me or not. It took the pressure off, so we could have fun with any of the where-is-this-going bullshit. You said, “But I do like you.” I replied, “That’s awesome! But it totally doesn’t matter. I like that.”

So I found out recently that you married her. And apparently you’re living on the other side of the country again. You’re like some kind of ephemeral creature. Even though you’re ostensibly monogamous, I’d probably totally still fuck you if you reappeared. Somehow, you’d probably still be exactly what I needed.

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Before you blew in and out of my life the last three months I was a pro at singlehood. I stayed chaste and unfuckable for a year but had men chasing me like flies on shit. So check out how I will return to that sanity after wasting my time trying to date and relate to you, you selfish, non-pussy-licking, yelling, always late, disrespectful asshole:

Around 9:30pm I had ants in my panties and threw on jeans and ran into the city to go to a salsa club and got nervous cuz I wasn’t familiar with the band and it was nearly empty and I thought “no one’s gonna ask me to dance” but right away a man whisked me onto the floor-And seriously? seriously! -one of the best dance partners i’ve had in months and my inner Wanna-Be-Latina-Diva was unleashed and I thought to myself “can’t get any better than that!” but it did!

7 dance partners in a row, each one as good or better than the last-spinning me, dipping me, gentle but totally in control dance partners and to a “t” they were all gentlemen, all wearing sexy well-fitting button down shirts, all smelling supreme, all with polished shoes and minty clean breath. It was honestly the best night I’ve had at a salsa club ever. I feel like I carried the insane vibe from two months of a FuckFest and DramaDrain with you into my evening tonight and it drew the fabulous dance partners to me like metal to a magnet.

I will take a hot shower and wash off the sweat and dance partners’ cologne. I will pat the cat and watch “Al Diablo con los Guapos” my favorite stupid Mexican soap opera and I will go to bed with the heating pad burning a hole in my ass and bringing me comfort. My weekend has begun. My life without you has begun. Oh. And next weekend I have a date with one of your friends.

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