February 2019

I didn’t realize I had been holding my breath for 2 weeks, but I was.

She asked me the other night, after the oxygen returned…

“How did you fall so fast.”

“I just did.”

There is more to it than that. I was waiting.

2. When you meet him, outside the grocery, along the boardwalk, beneath the overpass, you will not know what he is. He will be neither too charming, nor too handsome. Not thunder*. Not Polish

There was something though.

One of my favorite Stephen King quotes ever is “the ecstasy of perfect recognition.”

It’s a little fancy, but it fits.

He said “I knew what you were the first time I saw you.”

24 hours later came the first ‘my girl’. I found it when I was scrolling back to establish a timeline, and because I miss him.

6 hours after that (and this is hilarious) I was on a work call at 2:42 am tryna calm my drunk girl down about a wall block, phone in one hand, and his cock in the other.

It was a Tuesday.

I slept in his bed alone that night, safe in the knowledge there was a monster on the couch guarding me while I slept. Woke up, politely excused myself, refused his offer of cooking me breakfast, left him to sleep.

Expected nothing again. This is the island of lowered expectations after all.

Lower…

Nope, lower than that.

Even lower…

There ya go.

But…

6 days later he said I was an angel.

Then came the forehead kisses.

Forehead kisses are how men absorb all the sense in your brain. Stay woke sis.

Ya, I am totally not gonna do that.

Fell asleep in the same bed, and an hour or so of me lying awake, sore and sated, he rolled over and wrapped himself around me. And it was good, amen.

4 days later we were out at a sports bar with all of his friends watching UFC and his every muscle and movement made me feel like a well-protected queen.

I am the queen of many things, one of them is doing things backwards. I don’t know if it’s backwards per say or if my intuition is this many splendored thing, that if I leave her to her own devices leadeth me to green pastures.

I do speak of parts of myself in the third person, creepy as it is. I am a collection of factions all driving this body and mind of mine. And it is a glorious thing when they are all in agreement.

We are.

I now have the luxury of my laptop back, so a) I can write again, and b) I can look at my fortune cookie on Facebook.

Today’s was “every flower blooms in it’s own sweet time.”

It does. I know this.

Maya Angelou — ‘Have enough courage to trust love one more time and always one more time.

Maybe I am stupid. It’s entirely possible, considering the things love has done to me. But in my 45^th run around the sun, I doubt I could change if I tried. And I don’t really want to. I like me this way.

I am not saying it’s love, it’s too soon. But there is something and it feels good.

I owe Sarah this 3^rd chapter, left her hanging long enough.

No, not that Sarah, and not me either. My sweet cheerleader Sarah who supports me in all my folly.

I didn’t realize the weight on my chest until it was lifted.

I exhaled as I hung up from my 3 minute phone call, I was afraid it wasn’t going to be enough, but, as it stands there was reverence and respect in his voice. I thought I was underprepared, but he didn’t tell me anything I hadn’t already researched and figured out on my own.

“Already ordered the pictures and bought envelopes, just waiting for you to get where you’re going.”

“That’s my girl.”

 If he’d have said “that’s my girl” one more time my vagina exploding would have been audible from outer space.

I already am that. I decided this.

“You’re going to be my best friend for the next 4 months aren’t you.”

No question mark, just a statement.

“That’s the plan.”

As if I planned any of this.

There is a quote from Four Weddings and a Funeral that always stuck with me.

Tom is talking to Charles after the funeral, and he says “Unlike you, I never expected the thunderbolt.”

I did.

And I do.

And it was there, and it was good.

*Jeanann Verlee was wrong about just that one thing. There was a low rumble of thunder, like a vibration in my chest. “Who is that?”

She also says, “you were made for this.” And I am.

Oh wait, she was wrong about 2 things…

8. When you find him in his room, thrashing the sheets, pressing his palms into the wall, howling. His face a river. Close the door.

He fights in his sleep. He warned me. And the first night we slept in the same bed, he fought. I put my hand on his forehead and said “hush baby, it’s okay.” He giggled in his half sleep and held onto me tighter, and for a long while, he hushed.

Something so empowering about being able to calm a monster.

Not tame  mind you, just soothe.

I’ve had a lot of practice here, on this island. A small army of boys and men who would do just about anything for me and who listen when I tell them to stop. Breathe. Come back from the edge of madness and just be here with me for a minute.

“Baby stop.” and they stop.

you were made for this

122 days

There is a funny story about my Nana and Papa wherein when he came back from Europe after the war there was a pact made by his family to NOT tell my grandmother he was home because, and I quote, “Once Neva knows he is home we will never see him again.” It was one of those half jokes soaked in truth.

There is another story about my parents where in my dad disappeared to California and my mom drove 3 days to go get him. Sharrie boiled water in the mountains to make spaghetti at a campground somewhere out west. I love both these stories.

I‘m on the list to go visit while he is away, he reminded me, like he had to. Not thought about much else. 2 day drive, but still.

I doubt he will disappear from the world and into me when he gets back, but I know I will get a good 24 hours here and there.

“Its so weird to see him settling down, I’ve known him forever.”

“I doubt that.” I said.

“No honey, this is as settled as he gets.”

That’s enough.

I should have called the last one the Drawing of the Three. But it wasn’t good enough.

It was what it was meant to be, a prelude.

There was some fussing on the Facebook page about it. Chill Winston.

And I already made my decision. Didn’t have to draw anything, not straws or graphs. I might ask my girl to pull some tarot cards for me, but I am not there yet.

I don’t remember much about English class but I am sure there is a term for such things, chapters with no other purpose than to close out one sub story and introduce a new character or theme. If there isn’t, doesn’t matter, I did the thing. And as I hit publish a solitary crow did a very close fly by on the other side of my window. Uh oh.

Coulda smashed in to the window, that woulda been worse.

Ever the optimist. Maybe I just didn’t see the second. (that’s not how this works)

I have no idea how any of this works. My WordPress updated in my absence and navigating it is vexing. There are blocks now where a blank document should be. I just want to write.

If this is a test of my willpower I’ll save everyone the suspense.
No is not a word that comes easily off my tongue.
I’m failing and could use a little divine intervention. 
Please please please

This was my status the other night. My boss and my Bayne checked on me.

Everyone thought it was about booze.

It wasn’t. My other kryptonite. Boys.

Someone asked me if they could touch my butt and I had a hard time saying no. He wasn’t in the room thankfully, just in my phone. He only lives there.

In this latest installment of misheard lyrics I found some strength. This song is on heavy rotation in the soundtrack of my life. Radio, mall, Brian’s jeep, at work and because I just put it on YouTube so I could quote it.

Some Nights. Fun

That’s alright, I found a martyr in my bed tonight, stops my bones from wandering away.

That’s not what it says

It’s wondering who I am

S’okay. I will keep it the way I heard it. I am the martyr in my own bed and my bones shall not wander, even if my mind wonders. And I know exactly who I am, so that’s a good thing

See also…

And some nights, I’m scared you’ll forget me again
Some nights, I always win (I always win)
But I still wake up, I still see your ghost.

I do see his ghost, often, walking down the street at night, picturing him under me when I so much as take an extended blink. The time I said he was the worst idea I ever had and he wouldn’t let go until I took it back. I was on top of him then too. Climb on the beast and ride.

He is a beast of a man. Good thing I am a lion tamer and the queen of everything.

I kept that moniker even though I had to give up being a pistachio. I had to. I am so sorry sexy peeants.

I had a thought last week, I was in the kitchen cooking and tearing up because I was missing him, but this was a good thought. So good in fact that I couldn’t help but laugh and grin a stupid, cheek hurting grin. It lasted a few days. I still have the occasional doubt, who wouldn’t, but this thought is whatever the light deer was to Harry Potter, specto patronus. Fuck that took me a long minute, I actually felt my brain cramping. This thought is keeping my self-doubt from sucking all the happiness out of me.

To explain this thought I must return to my 24^th year upon the planet. I had an impossible crush on an impossible man. Such a pain in my ass, and 21 years ago I was nothing like I am now, well maybe a bit, but my self esteem was rock bottom, my superstitions were high and this crush was HUGE. All consuming, there wasn’t much of me to be consumed at that point, but still.

And here, I sadly admit that I stalked the fucker. Not one of my prouder moments.

You must remember 21 years ago we didn’t have the technology that we do today wherein I know what so and so had for dinner and my phone pings when my friends are nearby. I knew where he would be on certain nights and I went to there.

Some nights, we’d go home together and some we didn’t.

Some nights I called it a draw.

This went on for the better part of a year.

I would try to stop and start seeing someone else, and he’d waltz back into my life and that would be that. I would drop my treat of the week and make the quick fall back into limbo with him.

I had never had a not boyfriend before. This was also way back before I began living in the land of friends with benefits and other such arrangements.

And it felt like limbo. Sometimes it was heaven and sometimes it was hell, and a whole metric fuck ton of limbo.

I tried to change to fit him. Not a fun thing to admit either. I wore more black, became a stripper, went to bars I didn’t particularly care for. Back in the day I was constantly morphing to suit whoever I was around/dating. I didn’t know myself one little bit. I kept the stripping and the witchy wardrobe, still a witch.

The point of the story is. After 10 months of martyrdom and metamorphosis. We ended up together, proper. He was my first marriage proposal. And for a long while, we had a really good relationship.

Lion taming takes patience, strength and fortitude. I am perseverance personified.

You’re the king and I’m your lionheart.

Of Monsters and Men

$400 bucks and 5 months later I now have a functioning laptop again.

Turns out my Word issues were due to a failed Microsoft office renewal and my hard drive was failing.

I wasn’t wrong when I said the poor girl was in a coma. I just thought it was a bad update.

I didn’t panic. I was way to lackadaisical about it to be honest. Kept waiting for roomies buddy to come fix it, that never happened. Then hemorrhaged money for 3 months, plus winter driving.  Excuses excuses.

I am now sitting in the kitchen, smoke in hand, John Mayer singing Comfortable. Brian playing video games in the living room that is soon to be mine, and things feel alright. Made a beautiful lasagna and it feels and smells like home again.

I am amalgamating my bedroom and living room into the first floor living room with a door. Its going to be a lot of work, but worth it. I need a project that doesn’t include drinking and passing out. I am trying again. Fall down 7 times, stand up 8. More like 777 and 778 but whatev’s. Takes 3 weeks to make or break a habit. I have 19 left. I got this.

I planted hyacinth bulbs the other day. I had to do something. This winter refuses to let go gently and is going out with a fucking bang. Subzero wins the week. Balmy -4 on Monday is about all we have to look forward to, and the bulbs, can’t forget the bulbs. I smell hyacinths and I am 4 years old on a warm spring day, playing in the dirt and my mom is laughing. I plan to have the room done in time for them to come into the light.

My amaryliss bloomed and went rather quickly. So did the man she was named after.

Had a dream my orchid bloomed again. That would be nice.

Once upon a time a woman I knew told me houseplants can thrive or die depending on who was around when they were brought home. I had a deliciosa that refused to grow, I bought it with someone awful. So now I don’t know if its my superstition affecting them or if its true.

2 days ago marked a year since I pulled up in front of the girls house. My only plants there were the other amaryliss with the other name and an orchid in a teapot that didn’t make it past the Nope. Still no regrets.

Wait.

I have one regret. His name is Jeff and he is a colossal piece of manipulative rapey shit. Other than that, even with the blackouts and the bruises, being known as the girl who cries and the craziness, I wouldn’t change a minute.

Maybe one or two. I regret not asking for morning sex before he left. I am greedy and he likes it.

Pussy is on lockdown for 127 more days.

I am having a hard time with tenses. Past, present or future.

Dear John is gone. He wants babies and a wife. The wife part I could do, but no babies.

The Lovely One too. Samesies. But we had some really amazing kitchen music parties before he left. Titties, Tito’s and tacos.

This is why I had that rule about not dating anyone in their 30’s without kids. Could never stand in the way of the agony and ecstasy that is parenthood and that is the age men start getting nesty. Putting that rule back in place. These two stung a bit.

I could have kept them going if I wanted to. But I didn’t. Could have made more effort, but why postpone the inevitable. Plus they both work away.

And I was otherwise preoccupied.

So begins the story of he who shall not be named. I have a name for him, but we will get to that later.

This guy walks into a bar…

With a bunch of guys I know, my people. Never seen him before. Couldn’t stop staring, stammered when I asked him what he wanted to drink. He smirked. My vagina exploded.

And the rest is a complicated messy story that has a lot of explosions, a beginning and a middle, and I can’t see the end.

I really don’t want to.

But for now I am in a holding pattern. She who waits.

6 weeks after the fact I finally got around to mentioning him to my PIC. She said “why didn’t you ask me about him before?” Well, first she said RUN RUN RUN, then she asked that.

“I didn’t have time.”

Within 20 minutes we had both asked who the other was and within 24 hours he came back to give me his number. Later that night I was angry fucking him after a dramatic bullshit night at work. I still have a scar I wear quit proudly from that night, I hope it stays.

Figured he was going to be another one off. Texting the next day I said “thanks, I needed that.” And he replied “anytime.” I said I had been on this island long enough to know you never plan ahead. But he kept showing up.

He kept showing up specifically when he needed rest and respite. And I was flattered to be honest. It is nice to be seen for what I am. Sanctuary with sex and sammiches. I figured out that if I gave him a back rub before bed he was less likely to fight in his sleep. I am spectacular sanctuary.

Figured out a lot after that first night. Still learning.

I now have jail bae and I don’t know what I am doing. Thank fuck for Lucy and Lex.

126 days by the time I publish this.

I am the kind of girl who likes having something to look forward to. See above where I planted bulbs that won’t be ready until April 30^th.

I am also the kind of girl who likes having someone to look after. Especially a giant, full on alpha male who growls when he is fucking me then tickles my back til I fall asleep. I like being seen and appreciated for what I am. I like feeling safe even though sleeping next to him is akin to sleeping next to an angry bear that is just coming to after a long winter and he’s mad about it. When I touch him and say hush, he hushes and smiles. I like how protected I feel standing next to him.

I like the earth shattering kaboom I felt when I saw him, and I like that he recognized it too.

I like that he is 40 and fucks like he’s 20, but better.