“I hope you choke in your sleep while you’re dreaming of me” ~ nothing, nowhere

bitch

I’ve read somewhere that relationships can recover from anything but disgust. Hurt, anger, betrayal, even disinterest are not nails in the coffin but once you have lost respect for your partner, it’s dead. So this wasnt a “real” relationship, according to the Flake. Sex, love, friendship, manipulation…walks like a duck talks like a duck but it still wasnt a duck if you ask him.
I trembled as I typed. I always spared his feelings before but now I told him the dark side of my opinion of him: that he is a narcissist. Also frivolous, unreliable, spiteful, mean-spirited and as manipulative as any bitch I’ve ever encountered. “Now I am really done with you.”
I blocked and deleted his phone number. Blocked his profile and ability to message me on social media. I also did something I hadnt done yet:  blocked his email.Closing not only all the doors but all the windows as well.

But damn if he didnt find a manhole and come at me through the sewer: As I tried to steady my pulse and stomach, I got a hateful response  “I’m done with you too…” I didnt read the rest. I immediately blocked that number and deleted the message. Guessing it was from his google voice number that he uses for work but I didnt know that one so I couldnt preemptively block it. Maybe I should have never attacked, just blocked the doors and windows without a word.  Maybe I shouldnt have hit below the belt, calling him a manipulative bitch. Being deliberately hurtful does not come naturally to me and I don’t feel good about it; Even if there is truth in the things I said about him. Even though he’s been deliberately hurtful to me over the years. I could have cut him off without calling him out. I could have taken the high road.
But it’s done.
And we never had “that kind” of relationship he said, I don’t need to be nice.
Now I can move on.

I consider those nights over the past few years, crying myself to sleep because I was ill and lonely. Because who doesnt feel pathetic and want to be cared for when they are sick? Suffering is easier when you have someone to lean on. Or crying at the knowledge that I’d never bear children. That is a reality I still struggle with. But of all the times I’ve been the most depressed, it was usually over a relationship (well, once I was suicidal thanks to too high a dose of Wellbutrin).  Which makes me think maybe romantic relationships are detrimental to my health. I already suspect that I’ve been chronically single (no serious relationship lasting more than 6-8 months) over the last 13 years means that I am less tolerant of others. Hey you damned men, get off my lawn! Maybe it’s better to share a bed with only dogs and cats. I can’t say there aren’t days that I don’t wake up, stretching and rolling in the sheets (as much as I can. The Zoo are bed hogs), thankful that I don’t have to answer to anyone but G-d…

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A Eulogy

My Trusted Agent closed down his blog over a year ago because instead of catharsis, it fed a dark, destructive need. But sometimes he needs to get it off his chest. So I offered to ghost-publish his e-message in a bottle…

 

I drove by a familiar spot in my past. (It’s been awhile)
Just a random restaurant with a private parking lot.
What made this place special
that I would meet “Marti” there from time to time.
We were like two teenagers in heat. Kissing, grabbing at each other and when possible,
fucking like crazed rabbits.
I met Marti while on a business trip a 1,000 miles from home. I was still recovering from a recent death  of a close family member.
We were both in a dry spell in our marriages.  We filled a basic need for each other.
No promises, drama, plans or chains.
We made sure each one finished, at least once.
When it rained was the best.
The droning on the windshield, and the extra layer of privacy made it even better.
We would meet at my office after hours, at each other’s house when everyone was away for several days.
We were a perfect “fit”.
Our rhythm was always spot-on.
Whispers and moans, encouraging each other to do this and that.
Complimenting on how something felt or how long it had been.
When she was on her knees, she was shaped like an elegant musical instrument.
Her hips and back were a thing of feminine artwork.
The line of her spine and dimples on her lower back were burned into my mind.
She tasted sweet.
She always loved it on top.
I mention this not out of cheap sensationalism, but in the fact she would hit her perfect spot and would come several times. She would roll her head back with her eyes closed and had a half smile on her face. Sometimes her face would contort and she would gasp from the tremors and convulsions in her body. She would always tighten up. Her wetness was always just right.
She knew exactly what felt good and how to get there. It was a goal and she was determined.
She was one of the few women with whom I could go twice around with without stopping.
It was like fucking the Sun at times.  The warmth and danger always present.
We drifted apart as life got in the way. We had our own lives to focus on.
A few years later we managed to catch up. (Years before that these calls/texts would lead to on-the-fly hookups)
She told me she had major heart issues and surgeries.
I wished her well and said goodbye.
Today as I drove by that parking lot, I looked her up online to see if she still worked at the same office (I just wanted to say Hi) and that’s when I found her obituary.
How do I grieve for someone I should have never knew or touched?
I’m empty.
These days I’m trying to be a good person…husband…
But this is such a sudden hole in my past. Like a page ripped out.
I feel ashamed at the same time.  A familiar guilt of not deserving certain people in
my selfish life.