Tag: relationships

In Which I Make a Case for Gallovich


I once had a dream with Mickey in it. Ever since, I have had an affinity for the character. In keeping a dream journal, I learned that I identified a lot with Mickey. He was deathly afraid to let someone close because that meant trusting them with everything that’s broken in him. He wanted to love Ian, but he couldn’t reconcile what that meant about himself in doing so.

I lived that life. You keep your preferences to yourself- it’s no one else’s business what you do behind closed doors. I didn’t think I needed to tell my family I preferred girls. I kept it to myself and suffered for the knowledge. I let a great love of my life go all over my sexual persuasion- the fear of being out. When Mickey was struggling with his love for Ian, I felt for him. I could sympathize with his pain and fear of being found out.

That’s why I ship Gallovich. It’s the happy ending I hoped for- getting to be with the person you love, damn what anyone else thinks. He finally had the courage to proclaim his great love for Ian in front of everybody. I was happy for them, because their relationship and understanding of each other was so deep. I especially loved the scene where Mickey went back to plant a quick kiss on Ian’s lips.

Mickey is a ride or die mate. He was fierce in his insistence that he could take care of Ian. My heart melted watching those scenes. He was realizing how big an impact Ian’s illness had on their relationship, and both Ian and himself individually. His character was so dynamic and grew so much during the series. He was willing to be with his partner through thick and thin, sickness and health. I especially loved that even when Ian took off with his child, he refused to let anyone go to the police over it. He was that desperate to protect Ian. They were suddenly and irrevocably in love.

Mickey went to jail over defending his love. He tattooed his love for Ian on his body- an ultimate declaration of love in anyone’s eyes. I just cannot get over what a wonderful, supportive partner he could be at times. Yes, he was fucked up, too. That’s what makes him even more lovable, in my opinion.

I don’t see how people think their love was toxic. Yes, Mickey was rough around the edges at times, but his good qualities far outweigh his momentary lapses in judgement in my opinion. And even the most fucked up characters deserve a chance at love and redemption.

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Is my life determined to be ironic at all times?

The things you care about matter. The things you enjoy and are passionate about are important because they are your passion.

Every time I turn around, I notice things about kids. I can’t stop thinking about it. I saw this trailer for a movie and I can’t wait to see it. It wrung my heart- it is exactly what I want to do.

Everyone wants to adopt a baby. No one wants to show a seven year old love. They all the want the little kids. I just want to foster a young boy, maybe brothers if we’re lucky. Will I ever have that?

My girlfriend asked me what that means for my relationship if my husband ultimately doesn’t want children. I both love and hate the idea. The present me loves it because he wishes to care for me and only me in the future. He doesn’t want to share my attention with children. He wants it to just be us.

I am both impatient with and understand the desire to wait to have children. We have time. It’s a life long commitment, and maybe we’re not there yet truthfully. Jake and I’s second anniversary rolled around recently and I get the feeling his feelings are cooled somewhat from times past. Our sex life isn’t the best, so therefore I am not as lovable.  One of my other girlfriends commented that my relationship relies entirely upon my pussy’s health. She wasn’t kidding. It sucks to know hard truths, but a true friend tells them. The bad thing is I’m not always healthy.

I am physically unavailable, and he is emotionally unavailable. We both struggle with some of the same problems but he seems determined to ignore those problems. I have a desire to work the 12 step program and have him participate, also. It’s therapeutic and perhaps we would gain closure in may ways, both together and separately. We both suffer from B.E.D. and we could understand our reasons why maybe if we worked together.

I had the audacity to make this suggestion and my husband resented it horribly. He hated to confront hard truths. He would rather not discuss that which he isn’t willing to examine more closely. The more detailed questions I asked, the more unsettled he became. That will teach me a lesson about trying to therapize my husband without his knowledge.  He does not place nice with others sometimes. He can be a mean, snapping bulldog from time to time. Quite vicious and unyielding. He would never raise a hand to me, but I can remember thinking the same thing about my mother.

Sometimes I ignore how my mother treated me in my past. Not living under the same roof makes me more forgiving. But in reading the book I am getting together, I can’t help but remember how alienated she made me feel. We used to fight and shout with each other. We shoved each other, I ran away from home. I lived out of my car to avoid her. I became an alcoholic without her love. Lost and yearning for a mother figure who didn’t try to make me look incompetent and stupid at every turn. Someone who valued me and wanted nothing from me.

My therapist made a poignant point to me one time. She said it made sense that I liked participating in my husband’s version of microscopic love. My fathers never paid me any attention, and now I had a man that was utterly interested in my every coming and going. I liked the attention to detail. I liked being controlled. I liked being paid strict attention, even when I chaffed against it. I tested his love. It reminds me of a favorite passage from my favorite book:

On the whole, this person with the sunburst on his boots remained cranky and disagreeable in his behavior toward the little blond runt. He realized it, too. Joe knew good and well he had become a pain in the neck, and what’s more he was none too concerned about it. But there was a reason for his unconcern; He was happy.

For the first time in his life, he felt himself released from the necessity of grinning and posturing and yearning for the attention of others. Nowadays he had, in the person of Ratso Rizzo, someone who needed his presence in an urgent, almost frantic way that was a balm to something in him that had long been exposed and enflamed and itching to be soothed. God alone knew how or why, but he had somehow actually stumbled upon a creature who seemed to worship him. Joe Buck had never before known such power and was therefore ill equipped to administer it. All he could do was taste it over and over again like a sugar starved child on a mountain of candy: cuss and frown and complain and bitch, and watch Ratso take it. For that is the way in which power is usually tasted; in the abuse of it. It was delicious and sickening and he couldn’t stop himself. The only thing the runt seemed to demand was the privilege of occupying whatever space he could find in the tall cowboy’s shadow. And casting such a shadow had become Joe Buck’s special pleasure. 

We made it through all the uncertainty. I became used to his law. We are both reflections of the other in many ways. We have dealt with similar things in our lives. He has cared for a physically disabled person in the past as I have. He has cared for and provided for younger siblings and girls especially. We both dealt with an addict parent in our lives. We have both dated addicts in our past and tried to help or change them. We have both suffered from codependency issues, and yet we jumped in feet first with each other anyway.

I read once, “You attract what you are, not what you want. So who are you being?”

Birds of a feather flock together.

Like begets liking.

I have realized that my past partners and I all had things in common. The over arching theme is depression and anxiety of some sort. I attract sad, anxious people because I am sad little monster living in a sick, sad world.

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Strange but True Vol. VII

I have been quite emotional lately. Just this last week, I have had two nervous breakdowns. They were two days in a row consecutively. On Tuesday, my mother came over to my house to enlist my help with some social media questions. (i.e. she’s finally getting a facebook) and help with her cell phone.

She has precious videos and pictures of my late cousin Toby on her old phone. It’s falling apart and she needs to switch devices, but the old one won’t allow her to transfer her videos due to it’s damaged state. I have tried everything I can to help her move her photos but I can’t do anything about the videos. I became very anxious with this task because I was quickly realizing I wouldn’t be able to help her. She was frustrated, and I was frustrated.

Then she mentioned my father. She has been DESPERATELY trying to get in touch with him. He is not worthy of her time and energy but what the hell, she says, “You love who you love.”

She has tried multiple methods of communicating with him. She waited 2 years for him to get out of prison, and when he got out, he promptly dropped her. He refused to return her texts and calls. He frequently got new cell phones because he was always losing one or the other. He was able to completely drop off the face of the earth as far as we were concerned for many months after his release. He chose not to contact either of us.

My mother left letters for him at his mother’s house. She begged him to give her closure. When Toby died, she wanted him to know, and even after I was the one that told him- he still didn’t call my mother. I thought that was very cruel of him, for being someone who used to claim to love her. Anybody who knows her knows she lost a son, not just a nephew. It was heartless of him not to call her, especially when he claims to be a Christian man.

I was punishing him for not talking to her. I didn’t want to talk to him. But one day out of the blue, he was back in town and wanted to visit with me. We don’t have very many opportunities to see each other so I said yes. He came and brought me lunch at work one day and we spent 30 minutes together.

I chose not to tell my mother about this encounter. It makes me uncomfortable to discuss my father with her because she immediately needs to know everything we discussed. She won’t take no for an answer and becomes quite belligerent if you’re not willing to divulge details. If I try to be vague, she pesters me for more information. It’s quite stressful, which is why I declined to mention it initially.

I always somehow put my foot in my mouth, though. I accidentally let slip about seeing him and she FLIPPED OUT ON ME. She started crying and told me how could I not mention it. She loves him so much and she doesn’t even know where he is, but I didn’t think to tell her?!?! She was so upset with me, before long, she had me sobbing hysterically.

She can still throw a mean guilt trip after all this time.

***

One day passes without us speaking.

On Wednesday, Jake and I had an unusual shared day off together. They are far and few between. We wasted the entire day lounging, watching TV, and fighting like the dickens. As per usual, it was about marital relations. #snooze #boring #tellmesomethingidontknow #thedword #fml #relationshipissues

Jake infuriates me when he uses the ‘D’ word. He suggests breaking up is a good idea sometimes. I privately agree with him sometimes, but I can’t imagine starting over. Or rather, I have imagined it, and I would rather not. He and I are a good pair. I don’t see the occasional squabble to be worth losing such an important connection. We eventually kissed and made up.

Read this article: These 10 Questions Could Determine if Your Relationship Will Succeed or Fail

***

On Thursday, I decided to give my mother a ring after work on my way home.

Me: Hey Momma, what are you up to?
Mom: I’m just watching TV
Me: Oh, okay. Who are you hanging out with?
Mom: Your dad
Me: …. Which dad? My first dad or my other dad?
Mom: The one you resemble
Me: How long has he been over there?
Mom: Johnny… how long have you been over here? 2 days? 3?
Me: …. I’m surprised you didn’t mention that. It’s only been 1 day since I talked to you. He’s been staying there this whole time and you didn’t think to tell me? You know I’ve been feeling guilty about how I didn’t mention him to you.
Her: *laughs snidely at me* Okayyy…..
Me: Well, I’m glad he’s there.
Mom: Johnny, she’s glad you’re here.
Him, phone background: Hey sweetie!
Me: Hey. I’ve gotta be going. Have a good night.
Mom: Night.

THAT NONCHALANT BITCH

Shadow Work

I read some advice recently online about eating disorders. I’ve been avoiding doing the task they set before me. You make a list of your roles, and what you are doing to further those roles right now. Then, you make a list of how you can improve those roles. It’s an exercise to see where your disappointments lay- you are supposed to recognize the areas of your life that need work and start focusing accordingly.

Daughter
Things I Do Now: Calling my mother everyday, skipping out of work early one day a week to spend time with mom, spending days off with her

What I envision: Call her every day, spend occasional off days with her, go over to her house more often i.e. visits after work, perform an intervention for her, help her to get a job

Family Member
Things I Do Now: Barely anything, only focus on my mother.

What I envision: Once a month meetings with Joe’s family, summer plans with extended family, getting to see Rob over the summer, call my aunt rob and Grandpa more often, call Joe and Austin more often, go over to Joe’s house with Jake for fight nights, float the river family trip, go on summer trip with Jake’s family, spend more time with Jake’s cousin Korey and his wife, visit my Grandpa at work randomly and take him snacks

Individual
Things I Do Now: Masturbating, writing, working on art project, browsing social media websites, overeating, binging and purging

What I envision: Go outside more often, go to parks more often, visit the Memorial more often, go places on my days off, work out, lose weight, control eating habits, go to therapy, get myriad of medical issues checked out

Spiritual/Cultural
Things I Do Now: Carry a medicine bag, listen to A Tribe Called Red, listen to Native American drums and flutes, smudging the house, praying outside under the sky

What I envision: Going to powwow every year, listening to Medicine Men chanting/DELTA wave music to relax recreationally around the house, praying and smudging more often, learn Spanish

Business
Things I Do Now: Non confrontational, lazy, unfocused, half assed

What I envision: Well organized, smaller department, becoming Front Office Manager of a Residence Inn, Springhill Suites, other limited service Marriott hotel, ultimately ending up a writer (short novel or magazine editor), become the next JK Rowling, have to spend a lot more time invested in my writing

Wife
Things I Do Now: Withhold sex, always admit I am wrong and he is right, let him have his way even when he’s being a brat, let him treat me like shit, not close intimately, doesn’t want to hear my inner most thoughts, uncaring of my feelings, controlling, posessive

What I envision: Him settling with a lesser sex life than he wants, him treating me with respect and love, him being emotionally present in the relationship, eating meals at a kitchen table without TV or computer, just talking. More adventurous sex. More willingness to take me on dates and say nice things to me. Touches me involuntarily. More opportunities to dress up, double dates, making friends. More open minded, less neurosis.

Potential Parent
Things I Do Now: Nothing

What I envision: Save money for a house, quit drugs to pass inspections to get foster kids, lose weight to have a biological kid, convince husband to get his vasectomy reversed, get a better job to afford kids, work a 9-5 job for kids

Friend
Things I Do Now: Call Katie every time I have a freak out

What I envision: Monthly meetings with Christina and Katie, more whenever meetings with Katie, call Katie just to check up on HER, call Elizabeth and Veronica more often, get back in touch with Melanie, wine and paint parties, exercise budy with Sara, become friends with Whitney and Leslie

Recovering Addict
Things I Do Now: 12 Step Al-Anon work

What I envision: Going to al-anon meetings, finding a sponsor, completing the steps, feeling better about myself, cope with my emotions better


Image result for earl's list

I mention this because I have been contemplating My List Inspired by My Name is Earl. I have a whole subsection of my list that deals with cheating on various individuals. Plus, cheating is an interesting topic in my family.

My Grandpa is a chronic philanderer. My aunt was a serial cheater. My uncle cheated, also. My other uncle slept with married women. My mother sleeps with a married man. My mother cheated on my dad. My dad cheated on my mother. It’s a morally gray area in our family. My Granny was the best person who ever lived, but miraculously enough the person I love most next is the person who hurt her the most. What a bizarre turn of events for our family. My friends have often said that my life could be a soap opera.

I don’t think cheating is okay. I did it, though. The first time I cheated, I cheated on a crush with my ex. We were dating verging on girlfriend-boyfriend material when I signed that relationship’s death warrant by sleeping with my ex whom I was still radically in love with at the time.

The person I feel the worst about cheating on though is not him. It’s Hakim. He was the most stable relationship I ever had in my life. We didn’t have to see each other or talk everyday. I wasn’t addicted to weed back then. Things were just starting to get bad with my mom back then.

I cheated on Hakim because he had a spectacular cock he would not share with me. At the time I didn’t understand, but now I do- he was depressed. His libido was in the dumps. He often had existential crises. I feel so stupid that I didn’t see it, then. I didn’t appreciate him for the gentle soul he was. We were kindred spirits but I could only think with my clit. I wasn’t getting the attention I wanted- so I went out and found it elsewhere.

The first person I cheated on him with was my ex. I knew my ex had smoke and knew how to touch me like I craved. So I went to him again, a couple of different times. I wasn’t in love with my ex anymore by this point- we had become the best of friends with benefits. We fucked but we never kissed anymore.

The next time was a random stranger. We saw each other regularly since he worked at the store around the corner from my mother’s house. He liked me, I liked him. He had a girlfriend and a baby, and I didn’t care to learn their names. He likewise wasn’t interested in knowing me. We just groped in the car and store sometimes until it all culminated one night.

We had a quickie behind my mother’s house in her apartment. We fumbled around in the dark until he came and left me feeling unsatisfied. He suddenly remembered he had someplace to be and what’s worse was I was his ride. I never saw him again after that.

But I did see the neighbor boy Daniel, back from over seas. He drunkenly invited me over to his house in the middle of the night later that night. He never knew that I had been with someone that same night- we did it in his den, the room we grew up playing together in as kids at his house. He struggled to keep his tiny dick up and ended up fingering me to completion. It was our second and last time together, first time sober.

The fourth person was my best friend. Our relationship heated up and it was impossible to deny the mutual attraction any longer. It didn’t feel wrong because I loved her so much. He liked her, too. Never suspected a thing, and didn’t hold it against me when I admitted I had feelings for her. He still sought me out later on down the line despite knowing I had emotionally cheated on him. I did not outright admit that I cheated physically.

After An Affair: Are You Wracked With Guilt After Cheating?

I read this article about cheating. It’s hard to find articles from the other side- the person who cheated and feels guilty. It made a lot of stupid points in my opinion. “Recognize that the bad person who did this deed, also does good things for you. Recognize that while you did wrong the person you cheated on, they got something out of you cheating on them.”

For example, I cheated on Hakim and broke up with him. He had other opportunities to find a girl who wouldn’t cheat on him and who would understand him better by not being with me. He’s a fool for never knowing how bad I was- Am I bad a person for never admitting the truth?

Image result for one day at a time words

In Al-Anon, the steps say:

Made direct amends to [people we have harmed] wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others

To even dream of coming clean to Hakim is impossible to think. This is surely what cases like this were made for- revealing that you cheated is selfish! haha~!

Is it, though? Am I as bad as the rest of my family?

Are things better when people don’t know? If a tree falls with no around to hear, does it make a sound? If you got away with it, and they were none the wiser, how is revealing your short comings supposed to make them feel better? Or me?

I guess some people think, “They deserve to know.” But knowing sure is ugly. It ripped my Grandma apart. I will never forget the time she informed me she tried to get medical benefits through her husband’s job, and he had listed himself as a single man. I can still remember the hurt look on her face.

My Aunt has done a fine good job of telling people her misdeeds. It is no wonder her husband finally went cuckoo. As I said, she is a serial cheater and has had many relationships outside her marriage in the past years. She is quite frankly a sensual and down to earth woman. Most people would call her a whore but I was settle for promiscuous. I admired her sometimes, she talked to me like a friend. She liked trading bawdy stories back and forth about our conquests. Her children knew all about her relationships and called them Uncle. Her boyfriends dined at their dinner table with the whole family, under the guise of a family friend. One time Rob told me about a time her husband asked her, “But won’t they all know?

You mean how we HAVE KNOWN FOR YEARS?

The humiliation, I cannot imagine. I find it difficult to imagine a scenario in which I could be like Hillary and accept Bill Clinton’s actions. I know it was a terrible thing for me to do, but I was being young and free. I wasn’t the one who was married. Cheating before marriage is somehow less worse. I was having fun, being young, wild, and free.

Short term lesson: Short flings are more acceptable form of cheating, whereas drawn out emotional relationships with another person are particularly damaging. I saw an article recently on the web that talked about that- how women are in fact less angry about cheating that is just about sex than about EMOTIONAL cheating with another woman.

I have to think about these things because my life is weird. I chose an unusual member of society to marry. I have dated more than just one man that has had threesomes before. My husband happens to be one of them. He was in a poly-amorous relationship in his twenties for a while. He dated and lived with two women simultaneously. They were a thrupple.

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thrupple
noun. a three-way sexual relationship with three partners.

-“When two just isn’t enough!”

My husband has expressed a desire to follow this life style again. He feels dissatisfied with our sex life for a couple of different reasons. Some of his reasons aren’t so stupid, though. He insists that he knows I want to be with a woman. I can’t lie and say that’s not true.

He has found someone that he desires, and he’s asked if I want to meet her. But this is ALL WRONG for me. Not the thrupple- I am actually not too horribly against the idea of adding a third person to the relationship. It’s just that Jacob and I have different visions.

First of all, I would rather be the one to pick the person. I want someone who is ideally more interested in me than my husband. I’d rather him be an accessory piece to any lesbian action. I’d prefer him not to fuck or kiss her. He can do things with me- which makes me suspect that I am truly too jealous in nature to allow a sister wife.

I will be the first to admit I am insecure.

“All I told them is everything they wanted to know!”
-Deadpool 2

I don’t want anyone to take my husband from me. I don’t want him to be interested in anyone else just yet. I thought we could go years before we would have to add a third person.

I want us to have a solid foundation. And at this time, we just don’t. I don’t have the confidence in our relationship and his treatment of me to allow him a sister wife. If he treated me more respectfully, perhaps we could bargain in some way, but he hasn’t shown that side of himself in quite some time.

Image result for prude pink

I’m not a PRUDE! I wanted to live polyamorously with my bff. I loved her and my first boyfriend equally, but she wasn’t down for him in any way. She was all about me. The thrupple that I am seeking is different than this domestic vibe my husband is trying to coin.

I want a third person to make our lives more exciting! I expect with two of us, I could force Jake to do much more fun and adventurous things. We would go on dates together. But I don’t want her to live with us- I imagine this radically ideal free-loving spirit kind of woman. I’m not saying she’s a slut, just that she loves who feels right. My husband does not like the idea of her not being beholden to us, though. I want something more casual to start out and he wants like this big commitment right away. We’re not seeing eye to eye. Well, in most ways. We both want me to have a girlfriend, lol.

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Breaking Up is Hard to Do

My friend is in a bad relationship. The first clue should have been that he is technically married. He is a long distance sugar daddy. I can see the appeal in not leaving him- they weren’t dating very long when she wound up with one of his credit cards. He sent her gifts to the hotel all the time so that it was obnoxious and made all the other ladies jealous. He treated her well. They went on trips together once a month. He was very generous and they spoke on the phone everyday.

It got worse, though. He revealed himself to be the jealous kind. He would call up to our job and ask to speak to her, checking if she was really at work. When she was out and about, he would demand that she take a picture of whatever she was doing and send it to him. We live in Oklahoma and he lives in Florida~ he pressures her regularly about when she is going to move out to Florida and live with him.

For some people this would be a dream. Only he’s not physically her type. She gave him a chance but ultimately his life style and decisions are not the direction she wants to go. She is actually a divorcee and just got out of a relationship with an overbearing drug addicted philandering asshole who used to tell on her to her father. It’s a miracle she hasn’t gotten anything from him tbh. Why should she go from one domineering asshole to another clingy bastard that will only make her miserable?

She can’t bear to break up with her boyfriend. She couldn’t break up with her last one, either. She did the fade away as described in the wonderful song featured above. It’s so SILLY! Not wanting to end a relationship because you don’t want to hurt their feelings. That’s hurtful, too, guys. Because you have wasted someone’s time who may have been happy otherwise with someone who truly appreciated them. Prolonging the inevitable only makes it harder.

I have had some messy break up stories. I had to break it off abruptly with the rebound guy I was seeing after my first relationship ended. I was 20 years old, miserable and emotionally vulnerable, and I started dating a fellow I’d been crushing on for awhile. It was just six months after my break up and I was still head over heels in love with my ex. I still had hopes of getting back together so when we got together one night, I took full advantage of it and we had sex. The next day I felt horrible about my actions and decided to break it off with my rebound guy. He’d been cheated on in his past so I thought it was merciful of me not to mention what really happened.

But what did happen between me and the rebound was unfortunate. My timing was absolutely terrible, but in my eyes, it couldn’t be avoided. The guilt was too much for me to prolong our relationship or tell him the truth.

It was the week of my birthday and his mother (whom he lived with) had prepared a cake for me. He had called to ask me when I was coming over to have some when I broke the news to him 😛 I know I shouldn’t laugh but it’s pretty comical to me after the fact. “OK, we’re breaking up and I’ll never see you again, but you have that cake to comfort you.” LOL I know I’m bad.

I told him I still had feelings for my ex which was true. (The ex and I had an amicable friends with benefits relationship after that, and we did get back together once but it didn’t work out ultimately.)

*~*

The next break up story came after that unfortunate fellow. That same summer, actually. He was a hippie with a thing for adderall. We met through mutual friends at a Pride event.  Our relationship took place almost entirely in the back seat of his car with the exception of public parks and bars. We dated for a couple of weeks. Our first date, he invited me to meet him for drinks at a bar.

That summer I was very confused and vulnerable, like I said. When my childhood crush came back from deployment over seas, I jumped at the opportunity to be with him. He came to my mother’s birthday party one night to drink and we hooked up. Everyone was very surprised when he came out of my room the next morning.

I was only casually dating the hippie. I did not consider what I had done cheating. (The hippie was talking to other girls also so he wouldn’t have cared.) My childhood crush and I were not exclusive either. It was a one time thing (that we knew of at the time). I don’t know why, it was somehow just something we both understood. A drunken hook up that I didn’t remember very well but cherished nonetheless. I later described this as “banging for my country.” It is the only charitable thing to do after all LOL

The thing that led me to break up with the hippie was actually minor. One night after making out in his car, he casually commented to me that “my mustache kind of freaked him out.” I could have DIED of embarrassment. I have peach fuzz but to out and out call it a mustache mortified me. By the end of the night, I knew I would no longer be seeing him anymore.

I decided to break it off with him where things had started. I invited him to the same bar we had our first date. After we had some drinks, I mustered up my courage in the parking lot to tell him the news. I was shocked by his response. We hadn’t been dating very long, but he started crying at the news! He wanted me to comfort him and it was very awkward. Thnx but nothnx, bye!

*~*

Fast forward a year. After a successful second long term boyfriend, we had a mutual break up. No drama. I found myself in the dating world again.

I stumbled upon a good looking cholo who thought the world of me. I met him randomly going to get my car worked on. He liked me a lot and was going to be respectful at the end of our first date. I didn’t let him, though.

I liked him so much and things were going so well that I managed to finagle us into a frenzied coupling in his big pick up truck. We were parked in a residential area as we got our freak on. I was scandalized afterwards when he threw the used condom out onto the street!! Haha, weird standard I guess, but hey! Hump me in a parking lot, but don’t throw the evidence out into the world for everyone to see! Plus think how inconsiderate that is of children in the area. Like be a fucking gentleman and put that shit in your pocket or literally ANYWHERE else.

He called me to hook up again, but I never returned any of his phone calls. I never explained to him what had so turned me off. He tricked me one day by calling from a different number and said that his friends told him I had “one and done’d him” lol

Sorry, the truth is gross 😛

****And these are some of my weirder break up stories

Goodbye (?)


I was watching this video today and the comments on youtube were kind of thoughtful in some ways. One woman commented how she was 7 months out of a 6 yr abusive relationship and her sister told her it was her theme song. Another person commented that they felt that way about their depression for the song.

It occurred to me when I was watching the video the symbolism that I saw. The video is about transformations. The black fruit in the beginning- drugs. Eating something bad for you. Indulgent behavior. The pins in Christian’s back are what the girls are holding and using to walk with- crutches. Vices.

She was trapped in a box with blackness. Mindlessness. Darkness. Blindness. Refusing to see. She busts out of the box!!! She staggers away, the black billowing around her. The pins stick out of her back, and the more she staggers on, she’s able to pull the pins from her back and throw them away from herself.

I have felt this way about my relationship with weed. It is a relationship. I have been an everyday user for the past NINE (9) YEARS. It is officially the longest relationship that I have ever had. Boyfriends have come and gone, and still yet weed has remained.

I started smoking when I was 18 years old. I was in college and dating my first boyfriend. He had been smoking and hiding it from me and I was not happy about weed being in his life. I thought it made him stupid. I thought only bad people did drugs. I tried to make him stop smoking, and he would not give it up for me. I tried to issue an ultimatum and he would not have it. I didn’t want to break up with him, even though he was doing something I looked down.

I decided I had to give it a try to see why it was so important to him. He wasn’t willing to give it up for me, so I reasoned it must be…. cool. Good in some way. It was certainly important since he wouldn’t give it up for me. I tried it and everything was funny. We started doing it together until it became pretty much the focal point of our relationship.

We would sit out back in his dad’s garage and smoke. It was our main activity eventually. He was the one who started it for me, and I knew when I started that I started for the wrong reason. I felt pressured to do it. I had backed myself into a corner- give it up for me OR….. and I wasn’t willing to leave my boyfriend for not giving it up. I reasoned if it was a part of his life, I didn’t want to be excluded from that part of his life. I felt like I had to do it, try it.

It wasn’t hard for me to start enjoying it rather than resenting it. I came to love and enjoy it. And even when my first boyfriend broke up with me, I still wanted to do it and kept up the usage. I smoked with my next boyfriend after that, too. I don’t necessarily remember it being everyday in that relationship….

Things changed with my relationship with weed when I got with my first older boyfriend. He was an alcoholic. We both liked to smoke. It was then that my relationship with weed became something different. It wasn’t a fun thing to do anymore, it was a necessity. He and I spent our evenings figuring out ways to get high. It wasn’t optional anymore- I took to his addictive behavior like a fish to water. Suddenly, I needed the weed. I didn’t just enjoy it, I was willing to do a lot of things to get it and smoke it.

We would go to his brother’s house and beg him for balls of resin if we couldn’t afford weed. Anything to get that THC. We used to carefully transport it back to his house and he devised clever ways to smoke it and make it last. We’d put just a tiny speck of it on the head of a needle embedded in a piece of cardboard and light it, putting it under a glass and inhaling as much as we could from the trace amounts that we had. I didn’t just want need, I needed it.

I used to criticize him for his drinking problem, and he in turn told me, “You smoke weed like I drink.” I wasn’t willing to admit that I had a problem, that I had an addictive personality as well. I was addicted. I needed it. I threw away all my old friends during this period of my life. I gave up my old friends for drugs and alcohol. I told myself they were boring and lame, liking board games and never wanting to get drunk. I wanted a fun life, high life, drunken stories. My friends were not going down the same path as me, so I left them behind.

I didn’t just want to get drunk or high, I wanted to forget myself. I smoked and drank to excess. I didn’t just drink for a little buzz, I wanted to be black out drunk and not remember anything the next day. I thought I was having fun, but I was running away from my problems.

My granny had passed away and my mother’s depression was deep. I couldn’t face the depth of my mother’s depression. I used to sit in my room and listen to her shuffling cards in the living room and her loneliness was suffocating to me. She needed me in some way I couldn’t provide. My mom needed someone to take care of her, and I resented it and ran away. She was supposed to be taking care of me, but instead at every turn she tried to put me down or make me feel bad about myself. We had a bad relationship that was toxic to me.

Partly why I tossed my hat in with Joshua so much is because I was needing a mother really bad. He lived with his mother, and she was spiritual and nice to me. She only saw good things in me where my mother never wasted an opportunity to try and make me feel stupid or inadequate in some way.

When I met Jake, I still had a bad relationship with my mother. I was mostly living in my car and off the kindness of my exes. I hated going home. I hated being around my mother. Her loneliness killed me, I had to get away. I couldn’t make her better, she only ever got worse. I didn’t like to go home so I would spend nights using wifi in Mcdonald’s parking lots or I would stay the night with Hakim or Joshua, bouncing back and forth between the two. There were nights that were question marks to me, not knowing where I could go but home. I didn’t want to be there.

When I got with Jake, there was FINALLY someone to take care of me. There was finally someone who wanted to possess me and keep me and do right by me. He bought me clothes and he took me away from my mother. He welcomed me into his life and his home and he let me bring my weed with me even though he no longer smoked himself.

Through all those years, I kept on smoking weed. I’ve tried to quit smoking weed in the past and I never felt the way that I do right now. The first time I tried to quit cold turkey and I was a basket case, extremely emotional. I couldn’t quit. My compulsion was too strong. I needed it. I went back on it after only 5 days.

The next time I tried to quit, I actually went over a week without it. I went 12 days. That time I threw away my pipes. I don’t remember why I started back when I did. This time, I believe I have actually hit the 12 day mark and I feel differently about it.

I’m not necessarily quitting cold turkey, I have went like a few days at a time and then had a smoke of resin that I have still laying around. The problem before is I would have that compulsion to smoke and I had to go out and buy a bag of weed, and that was history. Having a bag of weed meant I needed to smoke it all. I couldn’t control myself. I couldn’t sit down and just have a little, or only every once in awhile. If I had weed, the goal was to smoke it all consecutively until it was gone and get more.

My one year wedding anniversary is next month. I got married when I was 26 and part of the reason why is because I recognized I wasn’t getting any younger. I wasn’t 23 anymore, if I waited around I might end up old and alone. I looked at Jacob and I told myself, you know by now if this is going to work out. If you don’t want to marry him, then you need to leave him. I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him, so I married him.

This time around smoking feels different because my motivation has been more adult that I could ever have imagined. I’m 27 now and when am I going to have children? When am I going to grow up? I can’t smoke weed forever.

I have had urges to smoke, have romanticized my relationship with weed. I thought I was missing the joy in my life by not smoking. I wasn’t happy not smoking and I thought about how good I feel and how much more I smile when I’m smoking, but I’m not really living. Smoking is the same thing as when I used to want to get drunk all the time. I thought I was having a good time, but I wasn’t— I was trying to forget myself.

You can’t forget yourself, though. Like I said, my motivation for quitting is entirely different this time. I looked at my life and I realized I was not happy. All my friends are fictional and I never see my family. I spent all my nights watching TV and all my days off sitting at home smoking weed. Weed is keeping me from being the person that I need to become.

I decided to go back to school this fall. I quit college almost 4 years ago, and with the decision to go back I started thinking more about my future. Jake says I am not healthy enough to have natural children. I weigh too much. I smoke too much. I’m not responsible enough. Weed has done a lot of things for me over the years, but now I am realizing what I always knew.

Weed keeps me from;

  • cleaning house
  • having meaningful relationships with my family
  • making friends/strengthening friendships
  • working out
  • caring about myself
  • attending to my husband’s needs/a better marriage
  • making more money

I’m sorry weed but I can’t keep doing this. I want all the things I just listed. I don’t want to surrender to mindlessness anymore. I don’t want to not care about myself. I want lungs that are healthy and I want to get healthier, eat better, go to sleep earlier. I want more money in my pocket. I want to be better than I have in the past. I want to do something that my future self will thank me for. Weed, you are keeping me from realizing my full potential. You are holding me back. And when someone holds you back, you either let them go and move on, or you resign yourself to your fate.

I don’t have to resign myself to this fate. I want more for my life. I want to like myself. I want to have friends. I want to have a better marriage and more money. I have to leave you. I can’t be with you anymore. We had a lot of good time together, and there’s nothing wrong with you in small amounts, but this life where you are the only thing that matters is not working anymore. I don’t want you 16 hours of the day anymore. I don’t want you to be my everything. I want a life.