Plague 4th

There are more pops and cracks and fireworks flying here on the south side of YO tonight that what the city would set off downtown had Youngstown not canceled their annual event. Music in the background? Mandolin Rain.

Yeah, I’m in a mood… have been ever since a couple nights ago when the Vet sent me a link to an anniversary song, adding a note that he knows it’s not our anniversary but every day is… BULL, he just sent it to the wrong woman. We broke up two years ago on the 4th of July because he came in, tossed his keys on the kitchen table, asked me to warm up some BBQ and crawled into bed. So, I was messing in the kitchen and a glint caught my eye… whoa, how could I not notice a shiny new freshly cut house key next to mine on his key chain? Of course, I asked about it… he couldn’t think fast enough to tell me whose door it opened, so I took the key to my house off.

I told him that song made me sad… reminds me that 4th of July makes two years since I woke up next to him. No reply, just Messenger stickers… hugs and hearts, sweet dreams and love yous.

He STILL will not admit to anything. He likes to keep up delusions, pretends I don’t know, but he knows that I know everything as I have not minced any words and truth always rises, just like cream. The nearest he will come is to tell me that he sees life as a game, that to make it in this world, you have to play the game to get what you need.

So, he talks about her, calls her his “buddy” as if she’s some guy… that’s his buddy’s car, with plates that expire in her birth month. And his buddy does the same type of work that she does? Yeah, tell me another… he’s a poor man, a disable vet just barely getting by, income so low that there’s no way he could ever afford to pay rent and buy a car at the same time. And, here’s this woman offering wheels… an “old friend” who has had a crush on him since grade school, they grew up together, she’s knows his family, her twin was his brother’s best friend… blah, blah, blah… sad thing is she thinks, or so she posted, he’s the “love of mine life” and you know what? Maybe he is.

So, where does that leave me?

Home alone, making just two homemade tortillas for a couple leftover meat stuffed fajitas on a holiday. They turned out pretty good. At least, not too bad for a first try… never made tortillas before.

Truth be, we never were compatible enough to make a go of living together and even though the last couple years has been a journey of heartache laced with his lies, I have no regrets. We weren’t soul mates, not meant to last… plus we are much better as friends now even though he maintains the charade. He’s been my rock, too, during this plaque as no one else, not even my daughter, takes me anywhere. Yeah, I know that’s her car he’s driving when he takes me to the store to buy cigs or whatever I need but cannot get via some delivery service, but oh well… she knew about me before I knew about her, had absolutely no respect for me so OH WELL.

Meeting the Vet, hooking up, giving it a go was not a mistake, even though it was doomed from the get-go. I learned a lot about me… he saw things that no one else noticed, called me out on my BS, like asking me why I come out so strong and then tamp myself down. Always done that to make myself more acceptable to men, socially conditioned to hide part of myself away. He was the first man to ever notice how strong I am inside, to encourage me to just be myself, my full self, and that still blows my mind.

He also accepted me as I am, flaws and all… erasing all inhibitions and body memories. He doesn’t know about that. I never told him that I was sexually abused as a child. He knows a little, asked about a little scar. I answered briefly… cigarette burn, don’t worry about it.

A part of me will always love him… just as I still love every man I ever truly loved, but there comes a time when you have to bury love with the memories in a corner of your heart, untangle emotions and move on.

It’s been two years… rough go for awhile, but still good years with self discovery and personal growth. I’m more at ease and at peace with myself now than ever. What comes next? I’m pushing 60, have no desire to ever live with anyone, but it might be nice to find someone to date. Yeah, just date… as in go places and do things after this plaque ends. But not all the time, just once in awhile… go to an art opening or community thing, maybe out to dinner or something. Even as friends each paying their own way.

Maybe I’m nuts. Thanks for reading!

I’m Okay

I’m starting to find this amusing… you know that old saying, the one that goes, “Be careful what you ask for, you might just get it”? Pop some corn, life’s a comedy. She wanted him, now she’s got him… and, he’s in for a fun ride. I know him so I’m going to sit back and laugh.

Oh yeah… I’ve been thinking. The kind of woman who updates her Facebook relationship status without consulting “her” man (or giving him enough time to gracefully exit his previous relationship online OR in real life first) and does things like snag photos off his page that his then-current girlfriend snapped of him, obviously at my house, will also be the kind of woman who will not give him enough space to breathe. Even if what he tells me is true – that he’s NOT in a relationship with her – she’s going to drive him frikkin nuts. Bet she’ll try to keep tabs on him, go through his phone, and everything else.

Oh, she’s wanted him for a long time, been trying to make herself known for months, pulling little stunts both on and off line. Me just walking away, giving up without a fight, this is her dream come true.

Sometimes it is best to just give people what they want, then sit back and laugh.

It’s like I told his other daughter last night… I still love him, he still tells me that he loves me “always and forever” and we gave it a good go, but it didn’t work… we can’t live together. We both need lots of space. That’s one of the few things that we do have in common. So, we are back tracking to how we used to be when we were just neighbors and friends, enjoy each other’s company on a visit now and then.

Yes, I was ticked on Christmas, but I was just angry about how it went down… how he came in pretending all was well and we were still together and everything while his other girlfriend was having her little Facebook celebration, going public with her real or imagined relationship with him. The audacity of the situation got to me… I wasn’t hurt. I was just madder than a wet hornet.

Today I’m like, “Hello, meet my best friend Karma. This is what you wanted, now you got it.”

For some reason, I find that hilariously funny. I’ve been laughing on and off about it all day, just from imagining all the ways that she’s going to drive him totally frikkin nuts.

Oh yeah, pass the popcorn. Sit back and watch Karma do her thing.

This was coming anyway… done wrung out the tears awhile back, so I may as well get a few laughs out of it. What else can you do, you know? Life is a comedy, and by that, I don’t mean stupid goof-ass slap-stick. I prefer the more subtle form, where the humor is not so much in your face, more like you would find in old movies or Brit comedies such as Keeping Up Appearances or Waiting for God.

Bottom line:  I’m okay… please don’t think I’m wallowing in self pity or anything stupid. This is just life, another twist in the road. Thanks for reading.

 

 

 

Independence Day

LAST NIGHT:  I’m thinking 4th of July is Independence Day.  It’s been coming for awhile.  I’ve been slowly connecting dots while arranging ducks in neat little rows.  Patience is a virtue.

He hasn’t touched the little off-white chip of what I suspect to be his favorite rock candy yet… I found it on the bed sheet, right where he sits to roll his smokes, and laid it on the black base of the lamp on my nightstand. Maybe he hasn’t seen it yet. Maybe it’s not what I think it is… I don’t do that shit, suppose it could be tested, but how do you go about doing that? I don’t know, so I texted a photo to an ex-druggie. He suggested licking it to see if it will numb my tongue. I really didn’t want to do that, so I barely touched a tiny edge to the tip… the sensation reminded me of alum.

 

EARLIER TODAY:  I had just put the chicken and ribs that “someone” (his word choice) barbequed into the toaster oven to warm up when a glint of fresh cut metal on his keychain caught my eye.  He usually drops his keys on the stand by the door.  But today, he came in with bags of food and left his keys on the kitchen table.  I sat there like nah… then spread them out to see.  For the last couple years, he only had three keys on his keychain (key to my house, key to his apartment, and his mailbox key) and now there were four and I know damn well that brand new, freshly cut house key was NOT on his keychain when he was here last. I could also tell from the shape of the cut that it was NOT a duplicate of his or mine. So, who the fuck gave him a key to their crib?

Of course, I had to ask whose keys are on his keychain… in nicer words (no swearing) even if I couldn’t keep the edge out of my voice. He was instantly hot, declaring “they’re mine” and claiming the fourth key is some random old key that he’s had for years, blah, blah, blah… yadda yadda.

Long story short: we broke up.  Then we talked… we both knew it was coming.  He says it’s what I wanted.

No, it’s not.  I love him… this rips my heart out, but it has to be… his choice, my choice, our choice… trust erodes on secrets and lies. Hiding addiction requires secrets and lies. The key was just the breaking point. He can swear up and down that he’s not seeing someone else, but that brand new key opens someone’s door.  He could have picked a better lie… told me it was a spare to his sister’s house, something I could believe.  He can’t even tell me who cooked the chicken.

It doesn’t matter.  He walked away in the pouring rain.

 

BTW, I flushed the crack.