Month: August 2019

I like the way you enjoy barstools as much as I do. I like the way you don’t believe me when I’ve said something cynical. I like the way you remember the shit I talked the week before. I like the way the countryside makes you feel at home. I like the way you make me feel like I’m home. I like the way you laugh at me barefoot in pajamas, with my bra thrown over my shoulder. I like the way you turn up your favorite band. I like the look in your eyes as you kiss my fingers. I like the way your hugs feel as if you’ve wrapped up my entire body. I like the way you tell me ‘okay, look’ right after I’ve said something attention seeking. I like the way you stroke my cheek while I’m swallowing your cock. I like the way you snuggle. I like the way you brag about having watered your one potted plant. I like the way you know the way to my house when I’m too drunk to drive. I like the way you make me talk about my feelings. I like the way you care enough to understand me. I like the way you smell. I like the way you taste. I like my fingers in your beard. I like who I am when I’m with you.

I make jokes constantly about finding my next husband.
What are you doing this weekend? “Finding my next husband.”
Do you have plans after work? “Just finding my next husband.”
Do you need anything from the store? “Just my next husband.”

I always follow it with maniacal laughter.

I am having the time of my life.

I was dishonest with myself for the past few years. I lied to myself that the life I had settled into was what I wanted, and that it was okay, and that it’s what life is- but I did just that- I settled. I knew I wanted something else. I knew I needed something else. But instead I told myself that his behavior was okay, because I loved him. I told myself that “love” is about accepting your partner’s self destructive habits.

You can’t keep dancing with the devil and wonder why you’re still in hell.

I woke up in July. Honesty is pouring from my eyes, and my ears, and my heart. Honesty with myself. Honesty with the people around me. I called both my parents a few days ago, and cried in each of their arms.

After July, I had so many voids. Voids I didn’t know how to fill, or what to fill them with. I found myself grasping at straws in order to fill them. A boy in my bed. A boy making my coffee. A boy visiting me at work. A boy on my porch. A boy in my garden. A boy driving my car. A boy here, a boy there, a boy everywhere. I needed so badly to give something, anything my love, and my affection.

My mom asked me recently what I do now to fill my time? I laughed as I listed all the things I love. All the things I’d been sacrificing for years, in order to be a perfect housewife. I worked, and then I came home to clean, and to cook, and to clean again, and to pack his lunch for the following day. I told myself I loved it.

I woke up in July to a completely new world.

I will learn the balance of compromise, not sacrifice. I will remain true to myself as I will not make excuses for someone’s shitty behavior in the name of “love”.

I’ll know him when I see him.

I got a black W stamped on my hand, and I climbed onto the first open bar stool I saw. I greeted the guy to the left, and ignored the couple making out on my right. “What’ll ya have, dear?” Lynette asked as soon as I sat. “7 and 7, please!” I spoke up over the live band that just began to play. “and a shot of, what?” she laughed with a wink as she spun around for a rocks glass.

It was 10pm on a Friday and I’d been off work for only a few hours. Working so late that I ordered dinner to the office, in an effort to not have to drive to Sacramento to play catch up over the weekend. I stopped by my house just for a second, let the cats in, and wash my face before I headed up to the neighborhood bar.

Lynette stacked my drink onto a coaster before she began shaking a shooter for us to share. “It’s been awhile since I saw you last!” she filled two glasses. “Yeah,” I cheered her glass. “I guess it has been.”

I knew what I was there for.

The bar stools began to clear as the band began to cover more popular songs. The clacking of pool balls was consistent behind me, with the occasional profanity, and the shout of “DOLLAR!” as a bartender held a bucket over the bar- collecting a dollar for each time the felt on the table was gouged with a pool cue.

Everyday, I’m learning new things about myself, and the gratitude comes in waves, washing over me in the form of a random giggle at something that happened last week. I was slapping my thighs to the tempo of the live music as I scanned the bar, absorbing all of the energy around me, perpetually grateful for my decisions this summer. As I made a full scan of the room I felt eyes on me; I immediately met their gaze. I smiled, and sat up straight before I turned back to the bar and picked up my drink. I felt him sit down, leaving a bar stool empty between us. I hid my shit eating grin behind my glass.

“What are you having, gorgeous?” Lynette asked him from a few feet away. “Rum and coke, babe.” Then he placed his eyes back on me.

I set my glass down and turned to face him, obviously flirty, and a little tipsy. “That your date?” He questioned me, nodding to the guy behind me. I shook my head with a smile.

“Come here then,” he said at the same time I was pushing my drink down the bar, closer to him. I hopped onto the stool between us, “I don’t fucking know that guy.” I told him with a laugh, lingering during my lean into him. He wrapped an arm around me and leaned into my ear, “then why didn’t you say Hi to me?” I shrugged, with a grin. He ran his fingers through my hair and held his lips to my ear. “If I’ve buried my face between your legs, you have to say hi to me.”

We both grabbed for our glasses after letting our a howl of laughter.

There’s some moments in life that when they’re happening, you know you’ll remember the feeling forever. I’ve had a lot more of them lately.

I moved on a Saturday, but I’d had my new neighbor’s truck already for a few days. He met me at my favorite bar in Sacramento on a Thursday after work, and scooped me up in a hug before he bought me whiskey and dinner, and asked how I’m holding up? “You’re such a strong girl. You’re doing the right thing.” he tucked my hair behind my ear, and kissed my hand. Later in the parking lot he laughed as he paired my phone to his truck. “I’ve never seen anyone else in the driver seat before.” to feel safe and secure in someone’s presence almost felt foreign.

Moving day was long. Two trips, over 100 miles round trip each time. I stopped at my aunt’s house, on the final trip home. Blunts and champagne in the backyard with my cousins, cheersing to new beginnings and never settling. I left around midnight, and called my neighbor on the way home to ask if I could shower in his guest house. A few minutes later I was pulling his truck into the gravel lot of his ranch, and parked it to the left of my own car. I trailed behind him headed to the guest house. “Do you have all your stuff with you?” He asked, holding the door open for me. “I have nothing!” I laughed, slapping the pockets of my shorts. “Umm, also, could I borrow a shirt?” I left a few hours later, I laughed the whole two miles back to my new house filled with boxes to unpack, so content already with my recent creation. You receive all that you ask the universe for.

My first week of my new commute, I called my cousin on the way home from work. “Where are you?” she chimed.
“Dude, finally hit the country roads. Stopping at the bar before I go home.”
“What bar? Where are you?”
“The Wrangler. I’m on Sheldon.”
“I’M on Sheldon! I’m googling the address, I’ll meet you there!” to be whimsical and free of explanation is the life I thrive in.

The night my neighbor made me cry, I told him I was coming over while I was already on his street. I showed up in pajamas and pulled in next to his truck. I checked his guest house but he wasn’t in it. I went out the back door and immediately went out to the pasture. The moon lit up his entire property. I heard the door to the main house close, and heard his foot steps in the gravel headed to the guest house. “Hey,” I called out from the dark. He laughed before he headed over, enveloping me into his arms, kissing the top of my head. After a few beers at his bar I was sitting on the edge of his bed, facing him, beer in hand, and my insecurities at the door. “You know,” he began. “The way you’re feeling is normal.”
I immediately put my beer up to my lips and drank the rest. He was referencing a text message I sent him earlier that day, after leaving my old house. I was filled with doubt about having walked away from what I knew had potential. I was texting him through my tears, feeling like I had abandoned my relationship without being willing to keep fighting for years to come.

It was too late, I was already crying. Tears streaming down my face was a sight he’d seen far too often in the short time we’ve known each other.

“You have to remember that his problem was never your burden to bare, and that you made the right choice to look after yourself.”
This man sees me as clearly as I want to see myself.

One day I rolled my eyes at him, “shut up. I love you.”
“Yeah,” he laughed. “I love you too.”

I knew that I had to leave, long before I did.

I grieved our relationship while I was still in it. We lived together as strangers for weeks. Part of me hoped one of us would stop this train in it’s tracks but I knew it would only prolong the inevitable.

The day I finally said out loud to him that I was leaving, was in response to him telling me what he was making for dinner that night. The words pierced the air, but they were no surprise. Nothing was a surprise anymore.
“I’m moving out this weekend.”

I was going through the motions of what I needed to do, while not feeling much of anything at all. Survival mode engaged. I finally closed the door I’d been struggling to hold open and crossed a threshold back to myself. I am the same person I was; it feels like spending time with an old friend.

It’s been a month today since I began this new chapter and while it hasn’t been easy, it’s been simple. Sometimes you carry more than you’re aware of. Sometimes you adopt characteristics and thinking patterns, without even realizing who you became.

Process anger without holding onto it. Forgive without being asked to. Don’t scorn the people that have hurt you, they’re likely hurting themselves.

God it feels good to be home.

The man I loved after you, told me the things that you were too cowardly to say. The man I loved after you saw my tears and told me he understood why I was crying. He told me it was okay to be mad, and okay to be sad, and confused and doubtful. The man I loved after you told me the way I felt was normal, and that this moment in time will make me invincible.

The man I loved after you told me that I deserve a lot more than who you were willing to be.
That your addiction had nothing to do with me.
That your decisions did not equate to my value.
That there was nothing I could have done to keep you sober.
That it took a powerful woman to walk away.
That I absolutely made the right decision to leave.

The man I loved after you gave me the tools I needed to love, and to realize, and to heal; and for this, I thank you.