Good morning.

 

That’s it.  That’s all I get?  No “Good morning, I miss you, baby.”  No “Good morning, don’t leave me, baby.”  That’s it.  Just good morning. 

 

I woke up this morning with Heather Headley lyrics sing-songing in my head, "Am I worth it."  And I know I am.  I know that I'm a good woman.  That I know how to give and receive love.  And I know that I let her know beyond a shadow of a doubt how important she is to me.  Yet, she’s way too casual about the thought of losing me.  And I keep throwing out these tendrils of reconnection; talking about the room in Chicago; asking about her appointment; anything that would make it okay to talk to her.  She is okay with going hours without talking to me all the while I am frantic inside.  So I have to make some decisions.  It’s not okay for her to be so okay with being without me.  That indicates to me that I’m just not that important to her now that she has started to make friends.  Keeping them is her priority.  I’ve thought about it and thought about it.  Tossed and turned about it and as bad as I want her to love me, I ain’t gonna beg.  If we’re not on the same page emotionally, I have to do something different.  Even though it’s killing me inside.  She has to know that.  She said to me yesterday that her feelings for me haven’t changed.  That I’m the one who wants to do something different.  I couldn’t believe it.  I want to do something different?  WTF?  No, I just want her to love me differently.  Love me like I am her everything.  Love me like I matter.  Not like I’m an afterthought.  She picks and chooses what she wants to answer.  She treats me like I’m a casual friend or an ex-lover. 

 

We all have seasons of attraction.  You know, those times when you can’t walk out the door without somebody trying to make you her wife.  And then we have those dry spells where it seems everybody you thought was attracted to you seems to be attracted to someone else and you feel all alone.  You feel like no one wants you.  But you have to be careful during those times because that kind of loneliness has a scent; has a feeling to it that gives off a vibe of desperation and once people pick up on it, they begin to avoid you.  Not your friends, of course, but people who would or may otherwise be attracted to you.  It’s like they can feel that no one else wants you and they get the feeling that they shouldn’t want you either and the loneliness will continue.  So you have to be careful.  I have to get myself together.  Get past this overwhelming sadness.  Realize that she’s bad for me.  She drinks heavily.  She smokes weed.  She is insensitive to my needs.  I know all of this and yet I don’t want to be without her.  What kind of sick shit is that?  Jeez I hate how weak I am for her right now.

 

It’s amazing how pain flushes us out of our hiding spots; how we reflexively start throwing out these tendrils of reconnection. “Hey how you doin’”? “Long time no hear from,” and all that jazz. I can’t help but wonder if everyone has that “why did I ever stop connecting with people anyway” feeling.

So, after a handful of "Elizabeth, I'm coming to join you" moments, I think this really is the big one. I remember this time last year she was telling me that she'd been seeing someone else "for about 2 months." Again, right after my birthday. Maybe this is a new thing, on the anniversary of a disaster have another relationship damning disaster on tap. I think my name should be Calamity Jane. I'm walking around feeling all broken inside and no matter which way I move I seem to run into some new kind of pain. Love and be loved seems like such a simple thing. How do you deal with the fact that the woman who says she loves you like she's never loved anyone else walks around with your heart stuck to the bottom of her shoe like a half-melted fruit chew?

A friend told me that I should give her up for Lent. I wish I would have listened. Maybe instead of hurting right now, I would be on my way to healing. She keeps telling me that it's not about keeping friends, but I can't help but beg to differ. I think this breakup is just what she wanted. That way she doesn't have to worry about me bitching and moaning about what she's doing and who she's doing it with. I have to keep reminding myself that she'll have to worry about the same things. But it doesn't work because the thought of completely being without her turns me into Chicken Little inside because missing her really does mean my sky is falling. What if she doesn't care what I'm doing and who I'm doing it with? And that's exactly the way it feels. I'm sitting here blogging and nodding, occupying myself with other things rather than doing those things that will put me in contact with her - an IM, a call or a text. I feel like the expensive sweater left on the back of the chair at the fancy restaurant. Just waiting for someone to panic as soon as they realize that I'm missing. But then again, what's the sense in panicking if they have another one just like me?

We talked about it and we talked about it.  And we talked about it some more, but at the end of the day, she still feels she was right and justified.  I just can't understand it.  How is it okay to go to a club and treat me like an extra?  I mean, she half hugged me and bid me ado and her only explanation later was, "I was just chillin'"  I mean, like wtf?  Who does that?  Especially when she's the one who says I'm where she wants to be. 

She said I was too intense for her.  That "maybe she's just not ready" and that "I'm in a different place from her"  "far more advanced."  That's a crock of shit if I ever heard it.  It's that she has other options now and I'm an afterthought.  Ugh.  It just makes me sick inside.  It makes me feel like giving up on everything.   I guess that's how sadness is supposed to feel.  I'll be so glad when I move past this feeling.  I hate it.

 

Damn.  This girl never ceases to disappoint me.  We talked today and I thought it went quite well.  She asked me if I was feeling better, leaving the fact that she got drunk and acted an ass last night unsaid.  I was half in and half out.  Not in love but not hating her at the moment either.  And then she started talking about sex.  Telling me she wanted to hear my thoughts.  Telling me how much she loved my aggressive side.  We chatted about her brother and my mother and other issues and eventually moved the conversation back to sex.  I couldn't wait to get off from work so I could go cuddle with her.  Nothing else had to happen.  I just needed the closeness.  And then boom.  Just like that she sends me a text to tell me her slimy ass friend called and said she was on her way over.  How the hell?  How does this chick get to dictate when she wants to come by?  What the fuck?  And they just met.  So here I am 3 hours later waiting for her to call me back?  I've called her.  Sent messages.  And now her phone is going straight to voicemail.  I am so mad.  And hurt.  Damn.  How could she do this?

People who settle for second best typically don't have the choice to be 1st.  I do.  So I ask myself continuously, why do you do it?  Why doh-doh head, do you insist on letting someone treat you like shit and perfume it with apologies and promises to do better.  At this point, better isn't what you should be striving to be, it should be where you are.  You should be doing me like Anita Baker said and giving me the best that you got.  Talking to me like Aaliyah and letting me know that I am your 1 in a million.  Running behind me like Avant because you know you only got 4 minutes.  Not singing it like R. Kelly and saying if I could turn back the hands of time.  Hindsight is always 20/20 and our relationship ain't never been 50/50.  I heard a pastor say once that we can choose our choices but we can't choose our consequences.  There's a lot of truth in that statement. 

 

"Well I don't want to say I don't want you to come over because it will sound bad." 

 

Here we go again.  Wow. How many ways can a motherfucker tell you she don't wanna be fucked up with you? Lol  Damn.  Get it already you stupid bitch.  At least that's what I'd be saying if I was the one who told my "girlfriend" that.  I spend so much time being crushed, nursing old wounds, trying not to get distracted that it's not until moments like this that I realize I spend so little time being happy.

 

I was thinking the other day that my "girlfriend" knows how much I love birthday parties and that she probably won't be able to step outside of her selfish self to think about giving me a surprise birthday party.  Hell, not even a surprise – just a birthday party.  Wow.  I am so unfulfilled.  And yet I continue.  Continue to do what?  Beg a person to love me and give me what I know she's capable of giving someone else.  Yes.  That's exactly what I'm doing.  And my friends are looking at me like I'm a fucking fool.  They keep telling me that this girl don't love me and that she takes every chance and opportunity to let me know by her actions just that.  And still I continue.  Like I don't have any options.  Like I can't find anybody to love me.  And that's the funny, fucked up thing. Women are all over me, lol.  They're trying to slip me their number at the game.  They're out at every event I attend.  They get at me online.  They get at me in the parking lot.  Yet I maintain that I have a girlfriend.  I wonder if my "girlfriend" has one.

Now I know why Omarion sings that song….I got this icebox where my heart used to be.  The whole time I danced with Max all I thought about was leaving so I could go by her house.  Leaving so I could go by the hotel.  I knew what I felt in my gut and I just couldn’t shake it.  Like Keith Sweat said, “Something something, something something just ain’ right.” 

 

We were on the phone, not really fussing, at the time, just talking.  She was sitting in her car talking to me, having just gotten home from dropping Her off at the hotel.  I knew that she was lying to me when we were at the bowling alley.  I asked her what hotel the Ga10 was staying in and she stood there looking at me, snapping her fingers saying, “Um, um.”  I was pissed.  I couldn’t believe she was just standing there lying.  Knowing she hadn’t gotten a room for the chick.  Just made me sick. 

 

I should have never answered the phone this morning.  Should have never taken her call.  We argued, we fussed and then she told me that there was a problem with her event.  An event that I had said that I would not go to.  I had ill feelings about the woman she was hosting the function with and then after I’d checked our business email, I had extra ill feelings about the guest list.  She was inviting someone we’ve had more than one heated discussion about. 

 

But when I heard the frustration in her voice, I could relate to the feeling.  I didn’t want her to be embarrassed and I couldn’t sit back and allow her to go through when I knew I could help.  I was hard for all of 2 seconds – not offering.  And still tried to be hard by saying, “If you need me let me know.”  The whole time inside I’m pleading with her to let me help her, don’t suffer for no reason.  That’s my problem.  I can’t let her go.  I can’t let her struggle. 

 

So I confirmed that she was heading to the hotel to pick up her friend and I agreed to meet them at the store.  I was going to fund her party.  The party that I had said I wouldn’t go to.  But I trusted her.  She wouldn’t put me in this place, in a position where I would be around someone who was interested in her or had been interested in her. 

 

But she did.  I bought the food.  I bought the gown.  I was excited.  I was helping.  I was making her happy.  I actually got into it.  That’s why I felt so fucking stupid.  I got excited.  I opened up and let her in again.  “Get what you want.  It’s your party.  I can’t tell you what to do, but if it was my party.”  Just fucking stupid.  Everything was okay until we got to the restaurant.  I was sitting next to her and we were across from ol’ girl.  The chick had been hanging back everywhere we went.  I had felt that way once.  With my first love.  After she had gone back to her girlfriend.  And they had decided to keep me as a friend.  Everytime I was with them it was like a knife in my heart.  It weighed my steps down and I walked a few steps behind them because I knew I didn’t belong.  Friends, real friends, don’t feel like they don’t belong.  And I knew there was more to the deal when we were sitting there talking, I’m borrowing pens from the waitstaff so I can help plot out our next purchases, when she reaches across the table and takes food from this chick’s plate.  My heart and my mind stopped.  My body went still.  “That’s it.”  That’s all I thought.  That’s it.  Taking food from a person’s plate is such an intimate thing.  Unless you’re at Thanksgiving dinner with all of your family.  You know they ass ain’t got no manners anyway.  But in this situation.  With a woman you met online and was seeing face-to-face for the first time, you don’t eat off of her plate.  Especially not in front of the woman you say you want to be with.  I shut down.  I gave her cash to finish up the last purchase and I left.

 

And then she called.  She insisted.  You need to be here.  It won’t look right.  All the while knowing.  Just knowing that there was a problem.  But I went.  I went shopping.  I bought a fucking robe that cost me $60 because it matched the little $30 lingerie I’d found.  And the decision to go was so abrupt, I didn’t have the leisure of taking my time to shop.  So there.  Drop a hundred bucks and go to her fucking party.

 

I get there.  I watch her dance and laugh.  I watched this woman’s eyes follow her around the room.  I watched THIS WOMAN take off her robe and reveal that she is wearing intimate apparel with OUR business logo on it.  Cut like a knife with a fucking serrated edge.  Just sawed through me.  I wanted to walk out right then.  I knew I was in the wrong place when I got there.  That’s why I just sat in my car.  I watched her dance around in sheer apparel that my dumb ass paid for in front of a woman who wants her.  And I was the third wheel. 

 

I didn’t stay over because I just couldn’t.  And the second I leave, her best friend is talking about me like a dog to our mutual friends.  Just spreading nasty shit.  And she even went as far as to imply to the other guests at the party that the woman and my girl were together.  That the girl was here for her “in that way.”  That was it.  That.  Was.  It. 

 

Damn.  How could she?  How could she let me do that?  Be around her like that?  How?  And as is the way, after it’s all over, she comes back with the hindsight remorse.  “You’re right, looking back on it, I shouldn’t have…” 

 

Last night….I shouldn’t have….I’m so alone, so alone…

Blogging.  It's supposed to be a personal thing right?  Just for you.  So why do I feel so hurt by the fact that she has removed me from hers? 

I started blogging because of her.  I wonder if I'll stop for the same reason.

 

The last time I felt this heavy, my grandmother has just died and I was trying to carry on as if nothing had happened.  It’s like something has a vice grip on my guts and there is an anchor on my heart.  And still I rise.  Yea, Maybe Maya’s words just popped into my head. 

 

I sat there last night, mixing and mingling, the whole time sizing up my enemy.  Looking at this new animal, this foreign element that she had introduced into our lives.  It was hard on me inside.  Every move I made made me feel like I was being cut up inside.  Everytime I looked her in the face and knew that she knew who I was made me want to die.  I watched them tapdance around each other after having been in each other’s personal space for at least half the day.  I watched her stutter about the hotel room.  Knowing that she was lying to me to my face.  And a new hard shell formed around me, sectioned off my heart and forced me to take a giant step back from her.  Even as I stood inches from her face. 

 

Last night I couldn’t even get an answer (I’m so alone, so alone)…words from a song that they’re playing on the radio these days.  That’s how it felt.  I was out there on the dancefloor giving a good show of dancing and being present but my limbs felt like they were weighted with wet, 10pound sandbags and my mind was a hundred miles away.  Last night I understood why people try to drink their sorrow away.  I tried to dance mine gone.  Tried to let the heavy throb of the music take over, drown out all of my thoughts.  All the while I just wanted to put my head on Max’s shoulder and give in to the sobs that I barely kept in check. 

 

Yea, I’m human.  Yes, I bleed.  Thoughts of her staying the night in her hotel; paying for her when we went bowling; taking her to breakfast this morning and possibly paying for the meal ate me up inside.  I came to the conclusion that in order to protect myself, I would need to back away.  All the way away.  Not be a part of this venture.  Not be a part of that group.  For my own sanity.  The way I carried on last night was so fake I sickened myself.  All I wanted to do was sit in a corner and lick my wounds.  I mean, if my heart hadn’t been in pieces, it would have been perfect.  My personality shined.  As it was, I had to go on and act as if nothing was wrong when inside my world was falling apart.  To have her sit there and act as if this was all okay and totally justified was something.  She watched  me pay for her prescription knowing this woman was coming here.  She watched me pay the waitress the tip.  She watched me pay Max for the tabs that folks had skipped out on.   And I watched her walk around with shattered pieces of me in her pocket like so much loose change she’d scraped off the dresser, jingling the evidence of all of our past lovemaking, all of what I’ve ever felt for her. 

Oops, I did it again.  Fell flat on my face stupid, that is.  Or maybe I should say I got knocked on my ass and now I'm sitting here with a stupid look on my face.  Yea, that's more like it. 

I went ahead, took the plunge.  Extended myself.  You know.  Last night was beautiful.  Holding her, touching her.  Playing in her hair.  God I hadn't done that in so long.  Feeling her face against my cheek, skin so soft.  I slipped my hand down the back of her shirt and felt the cut of her bra and knew that it was one that we had picked out together.  One that I had bought her.  And I felt proud that my love was covering her breasts.  Stupid I know.  But true.  Everything in me wanted to pinch and pull and squeeze her nipples until she moaned and let her head fall back.  But I didn't.

I went back because what I had done before we got to the holding/holding scene was mean. Spiteful.  Vendictive.  And just plain wrong.  When I realized that she was crying, I just couldn't stand it.  The last time I'd heard her cry like that I was in the bookstore in Mandarin and the only thing she would say to me over and over again was, "Please just leave me alone."  And it broke my heart.  I've never wanted to be the cause of so much hurt.  So much pain.  Despair.  And that's what I'd done for no reason other than I needed her to feel what I was feeling; feel what isn't so apparent on my face.  I just didn't think it would cut her so deeply.  If I'd thought for a moment that my actions would wound her the way that they so obviously had, I don't think I would have done it.  Her sensitivity surprises me.  She shuts off her emotions to me.  Puts up a wall.  Gives me the "I don't give a fuck" and leads me to believe that she doesn't care. 

What I show her is indifference.  Or at least that's what I go for.  But it never seems to work because the second the chips are down for her, there I am, cape in hand, ready to save her from whatever the matter may be.  That's how I know I still love her. That I still care.  But I'm working on that.  The day will come when no matter what she's going through, I won't want to help.  I won't want to be there.  I won't want to be the one she turns to.  I just wish that day would hurry up.  Just hurry up so the pain will go away and there won't be any fresh pain to replace the previous the ache that was slowly beginning to dull.  Just hurry up so that when I see her with a Ga10 or a JC or a Poetess, I won't feel anything.  I won't feel so helpless, so impotent with heartache.  I know it won't be today.  I don't expect it'll be tomorrow. But like the reggae folks say...Dry your weepin' eyes now, pretty gurl.  Happiness soon come maan, soon come.

*Sigh*  That's all I seem to do these days.  I'm out.  Folks are calling.  Wanting me.  Wanting more.  Asking me for things that I just can't give right now.  I'm driving myself nuts trying to keep myself from thinking about her stupid ass party.  Feeling like it's wrong that I won't or can't be there.  I've read some things recently that have...that have...well, I don't know what they've done to me, to us, to any hopes of anything.  It's like being sliced and not being able to see the cut but feeling the sting everytime you make a move.  Ugh.  I hate this feeling.  I've never been in this place before.  I'm reaching...no, that's not quite true.  I'm not reaching.  I can't.  But I'm something.  Confused maybe.  Not ready to move on is more like it.  Still doing this stupid thing with her.  I'm getting better at not calling her.  Just not making any progress in the 'thinking about' her department.  I still want to check on her.  Still want to do for her.  And stupid as it may seem, I want to make sure she has everything she needs to make her function a success.  Stupid.  I shake my head.  I kick myself.  I say buy the fucking laptop or a sofa for her birthday because you want her to have it.  Give her the money to fill the Rx.  Give her a gift certificate to Target so she can see the Optomitrist.  And I say that's only something a stupid ass person would say.  Let Her buy it.  Or She or whatever the fuck pronoun she's placing on the mystery bitches today.  I'm so sick of her throwing out these hints about these other people.  The shit just sickens me.  But I guess that's her intent.  So let her have it.  I promised myself I wouldn't read her blogs anymore and so far, so good.  But it's killing me. 

I sent her a series of emails today and I tried to recall the ones that weren't business related because right after I sent them, I had a weird thought.  More like a weird feeling.  She's sleeping with someone else.  And then I thought, no, not sleeping with someone else, but she's been intimate with someone else.  It was such a real feeling to me that I just wanted to put my head on my desk and cry.  It didn't help that I was typing up my short and sweet goodbye message to my coworkers.  I felt so much loss right then.  I wanted to call her and ask her about it but I knew she would lie.  And not lie, she just wouldn't tell me the truth.  So I suffered.  There's no other way to put it.  Please don't let me ever get into another person the same way that I'm into her.  This must be what it feels like to watch someone die. 

I won't move on emotionally until I'm really ready and that way I know I won't be looking back.  I wish she would just disappear.  Go to a place where I won't run into her.  Won't see her face or the back of her head.  Watch her do the stupid rock back and forth in the chair "This is the funniest shit I ever heard" thing she does when she laughs and wonder what the joke is.  Wonder if she's laughing and thinking about me. 

I hate her.  I really do.  And as much as I hate her, I can't seem to work her out of my system. 

I got a call from an old friend on Thursday that put a smile on my face for a minute.   When I got the message, I insisted that I didn't know who it was and that the person simply could not be a friend of mine.  Normally, I won't return calls like that, but I was curious.  I didn't recognize the voice on the other end and the fact that I was clearly puzzled seemed to please the woman on the other end.  When she said her name, I freaked.  It's been sooooo effin' long since I've talked to this girl and here she is all of a sudden one day just chatting away with me like we haven't been apart for the last 12-15 years. 

We played catch up, talked, laughed, and for a minute, I forgot about my problems.  I forgot about her.  But now that my friend is coming to visit this weekend, I'm nervous again.  She saw the party info and said that she wanted to come to Florida and go to it.  That she would be there even if I didn't attend.  I told her that I'd get a hotel in the area where the function would be held, but I would not be going.  So now what?  What do I do with her?  Where do I take her?  Daytona?  Anyway, it's too distracting to think about right now.  I'll figure it out when it gets closer to the weekend. 

I wonder if I look as disjointed as I feel?  My thoughts are all over the place while my heart remains stuck in my throat.  I hate this.  I hate me for being so weak.

I wanna heal, I wanna feel what I thought was never real, I wanna let go of the pain I've felt so long...

Take everything fromt he inside and throw it all away cuz I swear for the last time, I won't trust myself with you...

 

Talk about crazy dreams and fitful sleep.  I think i was probably on the brink of consciousness when I rolled into a behind the eyelids scene of a sports bar type setting, with me about to leave.  The woman I was sitting beside put me in the mind of Maxine, but I never really saw her face.  She was offering to walk me to my car and I politely resfused and told her I would be fine.  I say my goodbyes and leave.  When I get to the spot where my car should have been parked, it was empty.  I ran around the block like 3 times, just looking.  And I know in that dream-state way, that I was doing like 1,083 miles an hour.  Yes, running.  Yes, on foot. lol  But it was a dream.  So...

I go back inside, tell her and the other folks what happened.  Walk back out, some guy is trying to make me get in his car.  I'm refusing and now he's stalking me in his car.  The dream shifts in the way that dreams do and I go from a side street, corner store type environment to a street that I know belongs in Miami somewhere.  Very nice street.  Very nice homes.  Palm trees in the middle.  Indian looking people here and there.  And all of a sudden things start exploding.  I see fire.  I'm struggling in the dream, trying to run but paralyzed with fear.  I see my aunt and I think my mother and I see the panic in their eyes.  People are wailing and wringing their hands and their skin looks dark in huge patches, like very bad rashes, and they're saying that it hurts so much.  My aunt is trying to comfort them in the streets.  She has a pure white cloth in her hands which stands out in the dream because it looks so pure, and she is touching it to their wounds. 

Dexter's Laboratory filters into my consciousness and I wake up in stages.  There's a ink-black monkey with a huge M on his head and things are blowing up around him because some crazy half man, half lion is hunting him and shooting at him.  I don't feel like one scene was tied to the other, but I don't know.  I read a blurb about an explosion and chemical burns in the middle east and even that information may have lay dormant until I went to sleep.  I certainly didn't want to read about it while I was awake.  The thought of it all was just too horrific.  I didn't need the details.

Anyway...it's Sunday.  I'm trying to approach it in a more positive way.  Just breathe in - breathe out, take it one step  at a time.  Just being open and receptive and going with the flow.  When a person can look at you and know that she's hurting you, but can't get past her own anger so see it - that's not love any more.  I think there's something about real love that breaks you down inside when you see the other half of your heart hurting.  And that's different from thinking or wondering if what you're doing hurts the other person - but when you see it in her eyes, hear the pain catch in her voice and you still don't soften on the inside - how can she say she loves me.  I think she wants me to die and she is taking pleasure in killing me softly.  I've said it before...it's like feeding me cake with arsenic in the icing.

An angel's smile is what you sell

You promise me heaven, then put me through hell

Chains of love got a hold on me

When passions's a prison, you can't break free

You're a loaded gun

There's nowhere to run

No one can save me

The damage is done

Shot through the heart

And you're to blame

I play my part and you play your game

You give love a bad name

You give love a bad name