Archive for July, 2012

Some people might say I’ve had one too many lovers, all i can say about that is i have a lot of love to give, i am one of those people that i can find something to love about nearly everyone i come into contact with, it comes with being a half glass full kind of girl. I remember my first heart stopping, oh my fucking god i just fell in love with him moment, it came complete with a sunset and him horse riding.. I was sitting there in awe of the moment, in awe that i had only met him a few weeks prior, and now here he was larger than life, right in front of me, i felt the love pouring over me and i was in too deep to get out. So i ran along with it not knowing what else to do, not knowing how to walk away, this love of a lifetime continued on for almost 2 years, 80 percent of the time it was total bliss. There were constantly moments where i fell deeper and deeper in love with this person, then came the day when i got a phone call from his ex, there was no snooping involved i wasn’t one of those girls, and i never in a million years thought that the person that i loved so much could hurt me. The phone rang while he was downstairs and i answered this private call not knowing what was about to go down, i was on the defence as soon as i heard the swedish accent ” its j is n there” i screamed down the phone “Why the fuck are you calling” her response shocked me more than anything in the world ” i have been talking to him for weeks i know all about the fight you guys had and how upset he was and now I’m calling to see if he’s ok” As a woman i instantly cared about the fact that he was talking to other women about fights we have had, other women being his EX… Are you fucking kidding me?

I then went through his phone and saw a text message to her “i love you j” that was it for me.

So to you N – know that i am now happily engaged, to someone who is more of a man than you could ever be, cheating resonates within that persons soul for the rest of their lives, i will never forget how you betrayed me, i have ever since that moment not trusted another man even when they deserve all the trust in the world, when they say ” you can trust me, i will never do anything wrong by you” i now will never believe it, When we broke up apart of myself died that day, as much as i would never admit it to any of my friends or family. You have never taken responsibility for the hurt you caused, you have never apologised, i don’t think you have ever really understood how much i loved you, you were truly up on a high pedestal that no one could have ever reached, its no surprise to me that you fell off. You taught me many things, always suspect the worst, never put someone up on a pedestal higher than you are on, Never let someone take your power. In my quiet moments i still think about what happened, i still remember the way you used to smile or our times we spent together, so i don’t have hate towards you. I have pity for you, that someone was standing before you wanting to give you all the love in the world and you couldn’t see past yourself to see how amazing it all could have been.
You are still a drinker, you are still a womaniser, a liar, and like i said to you before i pity that you morph into whoever your dating, you are a piece of clay, no more human than a robot.
I have changed and evolved and i have let this experience teach me what it had to, but you, your still the same.

May karma be with you.

Kindest Regards
You c…t xx

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Once upon a time all the magic I was hoping for totally messed up and arrived all on one night. You made me believe that.

I was a tiny college child. I was infatuated with you, but not in any creepy way…you were sort of this muse who popped in and out of my life and my line of sight while I fell in love with other boys and frolicked about. I didn’t even know your name. I called you Cute Boy. We were thrown together by college things from time to time, and once you said you liked my socks. But who cares about socks!? I just wanted to do you. I had to read Daphnis and Chloe for class and decided you were the Daphnis to my Chloe…so I called you Daphnis instead. Then I stopped and called you Cute Boy again. But never any of this to your fucking cute face. I just wrote poems about you instead.

One night I went to see the Flaming Lips with another boy. I left to walk home convinced I was made of music and glitter and flowers and fake blood and cigarettes and vodka. It had been the most special and awesome show of my life thus far and I couldn’t shut up about it. I left a trail of confetti all the way through the city to my doorstep where I sat at 2am with that other boy and smoked rainbow cigarettes and giggled about how pissed my roommate would be when we went upstairs and made a ruckus before passing out in my tiny dorm bed. Something made us stay outside instead of going inside to snuggle.

I was mid-drag on my hot pink cigarette when you walked up my steps and sat next to me. I thought maybe someone had slipped me something at the show because I was clearly imagining this. You said Hi. You knew my name. You said we should hang out, that it was long overdue. You gave me your number on this small scrap of yellow paper. You said you hoped I would call soon, kissed me on the cheek and took off into the night. The other boy could not believe it – he knew about you, how I felt about you, had even seen you before. We were just friends and he proclaimed that night to be the most magical night.

So I called you. And we went out. And we made out. A lot. I told you everything about how I had thought you were cute for so long but too shy to do anything about it, and you told the same things back to me. That it was the same for you. You had the deepest darkest sparkling eyes and your bed head destroyed me. One night during a crazy lighting storm you told me you thought you might love me and I believed you. Until the next morning when it dawned on me that that, was probably the end.

And it was. I think your proclamation of love scared you. We saw each other a few more times to make out and listen to music and smoke cigarettes. We left for the summer and chatted online a few times but never saw each other. The next fall we made out a couple of times and went record shopping, and that was that. I wasn’t disappointed because I knew the magic had peaked that first night. My friend even said.

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I met you at that grungy bar my roommate would drag me to every week to listen to bluegrass. We would dance and dance and I’m pretty sure everyone else would just stand around looking sullen. I feel like attracting that sort of attention to yourself often means people will try to hit on you, so I had a general attitude of disinterest when it came to Tuesday nights and love prospects.

But you extra disinterested me.

Somehow we chatted and I told you what part of town I lived in and you got really excited about the ice cream shop in my neighborhood. Like, really excited. Like, maybe could I take you there sometime excited.

I am horrible at saying no, and somehow feel like I couldn’t not give you my number. But then I was appalled that you had the gall to call me and ask me out for said ice cream date. How dare you!

You should have just magically known I wasn’t interested.

I mean, you smelled like tofu.

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We used to sit in band rehearsal and draw on each others sneakers.
We used to swim in your neighbors pool, yearning for the moments our skin would accidentally touch underwater.
Someone told me you looked a little bit like you should have been my brother, not my boyfriend. But I thought that would turn out okay for how cute and blonde our babies would be. Creepy!

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I lost the only love note you ever gave me. It was the best love note I ever got. Most emotional. Most intense. Most real. Most true. I put it in the blue cup on my windowsill. At some point, I must have gotten worried it would fade in the sun, so I moved it to my box of notes. Under the bed. That must be what happened because the only other terrifying possibility is that my mom found it. Read it. And threw it away?

I had a confidence in our love that I have never been able to replicate. I was so sure that it was forever that I wasn’t jealous when you told me about girls you had crushes on. I wasn’t jealous when you went away to college and were surrounded by other women. Older women. More experienced women. I wasn’t jealous when you dated other women. Women you really liked a whole lot and had a lot of feelings for. It didn’t matter to me, because I knew we would ultimately be together. We had to be.

I almost feel like I wasn’t even jealous when you married her. I still didn’t think it was real.

Now I’m not sure if it was the best love note ever because I can’t reread it repeatedly. We didn’t have electronic archives of every emotion back then. We only had rereading the note until the corners were bent and the creases started permanently fading the ink. Maybe it was a horrible love note and you weren’t even that into me. It’s lost forever though now, so I’ll just never know. I guess getting jealous wouldn’t have helped, but perhaps it was foolish of me to not see. I sometimes feel more mournful about the lost note than the lost love. However brief, that emotion was real and spoken. Not lost forever.

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It might have been fucked up when you spent the night at my house. It was 3am and everyone at the party was pairing off or falling asleep on the couch or on too many drugs to realize the difference. So we left together without knowing if anyone else would care or be sad or think it was fucked up.

Our one friend looked at me with the knowing should I come home with you now or sleep on the floor at this fading party look. I somehow conveyed to him with another secret glance that I would in fact like to devour you and he should probably find a pillow on which to lay his drunk head.

I always felt comfortable with you and took you to my dark bedroom just a few blocks away. We stayed up far too late and in the morning I didn’t want to meet up with the group again. I wanted to ignore their texts and calls and ignore the pain and facts of the situation around us. I wanted to be swallowed in the joy and physical sensations of just being with you in that simple moment.

Because once we made a morning appearance, all the truths would come crashing down and the knowing would get known.

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I met you at the beach. Of course. Like a movie. That’s what teenagers are supposed to do. All my years of beach going with my family, I hoped I would meet some tan lifeguard or something. But we always went to beaches that were way too secluded – no other teens in sight. But I was dead set of some Sweet Valley High-esque moment sometime in my life.

So it happened when I was vacationing with a friend’s family. They knew the sort of beach a tanned teen would be at.

We spotted you on the first day of our week there. We pretended to play catch near you and miss catching the ball so that it would roll towards where you played paddle ball with your little brother. We crept closer and closer to you using this well-known teen stalking method. We pretended to take pictures of each other with you in the background so we could capture the moment – you without your shirt on in the sand.

It’s really quite embarrassing looking back. But somehow our antics worked and we ended up hanging out with you on the beach. Until your parents dragged you away.

Your last night there, you invited us to a party. But my dad came to town that night and decided 15 was too young for such shenanigans.

I was devastated. I got your address and we became pen-pals. You would send me pictures. You in your football uniform. Our town was too tiny to have a football team, so this added to the allure.

I can’t believe we actually wrote letters back and forth.

What did I think was going to happen? What did my parents think? You had sloppy handwriting and poor grammar. I guess we flirted in a way, and then it just faded. I wonder if it would have if we had gone to that party. Had a proper summer boy on the beach kiss. I would have really thought you’d be my husband someday then. Alas. I’ll just have to wait year after year after year for a new beach boyfriend.

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I’ve always wondered what would’ve happened if I’d told you yes, that I liked you back. Would we have lasted? You were the first guy I liked that liked me back and that scared me. So I lied and told you I didn’t like you that way. Now you’re into one of my friends and even though it’s been years and years since we’ve been close, I feel a tinge of jealousy knowing you’re happy with her.

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Your photo hung in my locker.
Your doodles were all over my notebook.
Your signature was in my yearbook.
Your phone number was memorized.

You tucked my hair behind my ear.
You pushed me up against my locker.

I was so afraid.
But I wanted you so much.
I wished I was older. Older enough to handle it.
But now that I’m old enough to handle you, we don’t fit.
Don’t match. Wouldn’t belong together.

Maybe teenagers are just less judgmental.
They love easy. No discernment.

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This is not a letter to be edited. I will say the truth.
I am smoking pot a lot of nights so I don’t call you.
I am going on silly online dating site dates to try to get interested in other guys.
I am still texting my asshole ex-boyfriend to distract me from you.
I am talking to girlfriends who advise me you are not into me so I won’t call you.
I am going to bed super early so I won’t call you.
I am scheduling trips out of town and signing up for classes so I don’t call you.
All I want is to call you. I have no idea what I would say.

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