Sign your name across my heart…I want you to be my baby….

That song was in my head this morning when I woke up from a dream that took me a few minutes to remember and when it hit me, I knew it was her. The dream went from something soft and sensual, all curves and suppleness to a hard, unwanted thing that I wanted to get away from.  I never saw her face, but I would recognize that complexion and those nipples anywhere. And when my dreams turned into a him, I knew it was just symbolic of my emotional nightmare…having her within reach and not being able to touch her and have it feel the same; having the sound of her soft voice in my mind and not feeling comfortable talking to her on the phone.  Talk about killing me softly.

Missing...the feel of her mouth, her fingers, and her tongue and the sound of her voice. The ache of her absence manifests itself into a physical craving. I roll over in those hours before the sun comes up, throbbing and wet and ready to have her. They say that once a chick has imprinted on an object, it is never forgotten and the animal cannot imprint on any other object. So even when the chick begins to encounter other animals, it remains with the parents. Years have passed and yet I remain.  Maybe I'm like one of those little chicks and I've imprinted on the GoodBad thing. Or maybe my panties really are buried underneath her sofa.  I told her she was a witch.

 I wonder if I wrote her name on a piece of paper and then crumpled it up and ate it, if it would make the memory of her disappear….or….would it make her a permanent part of my being, forever and ever drowning and resurfacing in my thoughts and feelings? 

11 whole days, and not a word from you. Well, okay, it's really been 13, but who's counting. I can deal with it. I really can. But it does get hard sometimes. Like tonight, tonight is a bad night. I've been thinking about her all day and I've been looking for her all night. Like online hoping to see her name as if that would tell me if she's with someone else or not.  I woke up this morning thinking about her waking up with someone else, even thought about someone else moving in with her. It's not driving me crazy, but the thought is very unpleasant. I hope I don't see her, with someone else, I mean. It's like hearing this chick I just met talk about a woman she met not too long ago and then showing a picture of this pretty cool person and finding out that it's her was like whoa. That shit hurt. Gut-punched my ass real good. But that's the way it is. This is one small, incestuous pool of lesbians we have here.  I'll be so glad when I move.

I want to say that I hope that she's okay, but saying that means that I hope that she's okay with someone else and I'm just not at a place in my life where I feel that way.

It doesn't help that I saw HER yesterday. OMG I used to be crazy about that woman. She is still as sexy to me as she's always been. Pretty smile, bangin' ass body, sexy eyes, mmm. I treated her ass like she was a vampire - didn't look her straight in the eyes because I knew she would glamour me. I kept our interaction all business and walked away doing my best to look unaffected.  I was only mildly surprised when she tried to hold me there with conversation about my latest project, but I wasn't havin' it. Her choice to date that bisexual, not really gay, only here til she finds the right man chick makes me want to throw up in my mouth a little bit. I wonder if she misses the way I used to walk up behind her and kiss her on the back of her neck.

On another note, I saw a little girl, Precious is her name, that made me cry last night. I watched her hang on the fringes of her little playmate's life and I felt my heart go out to her. She isn't pretty by magazine standards and at the tender age of 10, she already has corns on her toes. I couldn't help but compare her beaded plaits to the neatly done braids of her friend's and I wondered what it must be like to be her. I think what hurt my heart the most was that the mother of the little girl acted as if Precious was a nuisance to be swatted away. And I could feel that Precious just wanted to belong. It broke me up inside.

I feel better after writing for a little bit. I guess I just needed to let the poison work its way through me. I love you, boo.

I think Pink said it best, "You make me sick, I want you and I'm hatin' it."  I mean, like, can I make myself throw up already? Purge myself of the residual thoughts and feelings, feel better in the morning, and get on with my life?  Why, I mean seriously, I can't understand for the life of me, why I'm still stuck on her. I look at her name sometimes, as if I'm going to forget how it's spelled. And then I remember  spending our birthdays together and I want to be close to her, I want to remember how she smells…tastes…feels. Was she ever really, really wet for me? I can't remember.  One minute she is gay. The next minute, maybe she's not. How could I ever really be sure that it's me that she wanted? Man, I would have gone through anything with this girl. I loved her. Still do.  Like Chrisette Michelle said, "All I ever think about is you…" 

I know she's living her life, and really, I would have been okay living mine.  But then she sent me a text and everything started all over again.  I can't get her out of my head. I don't think she'll ever be out of my heart.  A friend asked me if I thought I was ready for another relationship. I think I am.  But I think, at the heart of me, I'm ready for another relationship with her. I still miss her so much. I'm hoping to get a glimpse of her in every suv I see like hers. This is absolute insanity.  Where's the splash of cold water?  The slap across the face? The vigorous shake or the swift kick in the ass?  Something needs to happen to get my butt in gear because all around me hearts are racing, breaths are catching, and loving gazes are being shared and all I keep saying is I need to wait because I don't think I'm quite ready. With all that is going on around me, all of the hustle and bustle that is my life, why do I feel like something inside of me still needs to be resucitated?  Yeah, those old school balladeers were right, it takes a fool to learn that love don't love nobody...that love don't love no one.

This situation has me vexed.  All I do is think about you.  At least that's what I'd tell her if I could.  All I do is think about this new girl in her life.  That one and the new white girl and God knows who else or how many others.  I've never really been the only one, have I?  And here I am going through it all over again, alone.  No one told me there'd be days like this.  I just should have known. 

I'm supposed to be getting dressed.  Supposed to be going out.  But I can't stop sitting here thinking about her.  Ugh. I hate this.  And it's so effing stupid, lol. Prototype is telling me in every way there is that she loves me and she wants me.  She keeps telling me not to give it up, to save it for her, to not go back to Ravexy. Purxtc is a constant. Green Eyes is there.  Island Fever is waiting. What am I doing? Am I crazy or what? How do you stop longing for someone who doesn't long for you?  Holding on to that feeling, that dead relationship, keeps you from opening up to everything completely.  Like Al Green said, "I'm so tired of being alone, I'm so tired of on my own, Won't you help me, girl, just as soon as you can..."  People around me talk about her and what she's doing and who they think she's doing as if it shouldn't hurt me.  Or maybe they do it thinking that the hurt will be a way to cauterize the wound. Either way, they're wrong. They leave me limping inside.

[sigh]

It’s been 5 days since I went down there ready to get her out of jail and the last time I heard her voice was when she was berating me and telling me I was nasty, that I was foul, and trifling and so forth. I didn’t hear the rest because I hung up on her, but I tried.  I tried to call her back.  I tried to get her to pull over.  I tried to get her to let me come get her and she declined.  She said that if I wasn’t going to reconcile with her then what was the point because nobody cared about her anyway. And that’s just not true.  I care about her.  I always have.  I still do.  When I got that call from the bail bondsman, I didn’t know what to do – rush out the door in my pajamas, go feed her cats, go borrow money to make sure I had at least a thousand dollars in case that’s what I needed to get her out.  In the end, I calmed down.  I talked with Cynthia from Make It Happen Bail Bonds and let her guide me through their process.  When she asked me if I was going to appear in court with her, I didn’t hesitate with my answer.  Of course I was. I got dressed with my heart in my stomach and feeling a little green around the gills.  What if I couldn’t do it?  What if it took more than I had or there was nothing that I could do? None of it mattered because all I could do was try.

When I got to her, to the place where she was being held, I thought I would faint. She couldn’t be in there, locked behind concrete block walls, behind bars with vomit covered floors.  My mind conjured up the most awful of scenes and smells and I wanted to retch right there.  I looked at the numbers on my phone that had come in after 4AM and thought about how I’d thought it was her Bonnie & Clyde friends because the phone numbers were so close together.  When I woke up that morning and dialed the number back and listened to the message and realized I’d had a call from “an inmate at the Duval County Jail,” I lost it.  I thought it was my daughter or my sister and I immediately tried to get in touch with each of them.  Inside, I think I wanted it to be either one of them and not her. I know my family would have helped me get to them and I knew what the outcome would be. My heart actually told me it was her.  Make It Happen Bail Bonds had confirmed my fears. 

I went into the waiting area, let them scan my bags and my person and waited.  I looked at the row of pay phones, 2 of them with the wires dangling, and looked at the people manning the desks, and wondered if I was in the right place.  I couldn’t be.  I was hoarse, having lost my voice on Friday morning, and had to strain to talk to the officer at the desk.  Thankfully she was very helpful.  She initially told me she didn’t have her name on the roster and then came back and told me that she’d located the name.  She’d been spelling it her way instead of the way I’d told her it was spelled.  I felt better and a few steps closer to getting her out.  Max walked out after about 20 minutes, apparently on her way home for the day,  and expressed surprise at seeing me.  She asked me what I was doing there and I told her.  She told me to hold on and went and got the paperwork for V.  She came back and called me into the doors just outside of the outside courtroom and told me the charges.  She told me she’d been able to get them to drop one of the charges and instructed me on what would happen next.  That made me feel better, knowing someone else would be working for her freedom, too.  She said that it takes about 4 hours to process them in and it would take about that long to process her out.  I told her okay and she asked if I was going to wait.  Of course I was.  I told her I didn’t want V to come out of there and be alone.  She said okay. 

 I had to wait for them to call the court to order and Max walked me in to the area where everyone would sit and listen to what would happen to their loved ones.  Max disappeared and I assumed she’d left for the day as she’d indicated.  After about 20 minutes passed, I saw the interior courtroom door open and Max walked in.  Just behind her was Ryshina.  I was crushed.  My heart fell.  Max pulled out a chair for her and allowed her to sit inside the courtroom within view of my boo.  Ooh. So many emotions burst through me and it took everything in me not to walk away.  But they hadn’t called me.  She had.  And I was going to stay there because that’s where I should be.  The proceedings went on and I listened as the judge handed down the terms of her probation and changed the length of the probation from 6 months to 1 year.  Max had pretty much ignored me this whole time and now she was coming out to talk to me.  She gave me this whole spiel about how long it would take for her to be out.  I told her that was fine and that I’d wait.  She then told me that she wouldn’t be done until about 6 or so and looked at her watch, noting that it was about 2:30 – 3:00.  I still said I’d wait because I wanted V to have a way home.  She said, “Well, I’m right up the street from her,” etc, etc.  I soon got the picture.  She was getting rid of me.  I sucked it up and just looked at her.  I asked her if V would need any money to get out.  She said, “Oh yea, she’s gonna need money.  It’s gonna cost to get that truck out of impound, blah blah blah.” I said, “No, does she need money for bail?” She just looked at me and said no.  And then I got it.  She already knew that V wouldn’t need bail so they wouldn’t need my money and now they could just dump me.  I wasn’t going to fight it any more.  I was already embarrassed and I didn’t want to risk her turning on me, too. Under the weight of Max and Ryshina, she wouldn’t stand up for me.  So I left.  I did call her phone as I walked out of the jail house.  Left her a message letting her know that I’d be there if she needed me and then went on about my business.  But that heaviness stayed on in my heart.

I didn’t hear anything from her until later on that evening and that was via text.  She thanked me for getting help and for being there.  Via text?  Are you serious?  When she was calling me when she couldn’t call me…could only call collect…and now that she had her freedom, she wouldn’t call me.

Pushing, pushing, pushing. Everybody's pushing. Pushing me to make a choice, pushing me to tell her about them, pushing me to be someone I know in the end I truly am not.  I'm not afraid of commitment.  I love being in a relationship.  I just don't want to go back to it the way that it was. The drinking, the fighting, the tension, the lies. 

"I just wanna be, I just wanna be, I just wanna be successful." Yeah, me too.  Successful at love.  Successful at life.  I hear her voice and I get a little weak. I start to stray from the path that I'm on, the one that she blindfolded me, set me on, and gave me a swift kick in the ass urging me to move along on. It seems she finds another way everyday to carve me up inside.  I'm in your life. I'm out of your life. I was never meant to be in this life. I want our life back. She's out of my life. Is it any wonder I don't know how to feel?  

I bang it out on my keyboard, frustration, anger, loneliness. Music I turn to, Linkin Park, Kings of Leon, other things that rip me open because they remind me of you.  I keep searching, hoping, wanting you to say that it was a mistake, that our season hadn’t passed, that I am the reason that you would want to spend a lifetime with a woman. I sit here and replay the first time I heard you say you weren’t sure if you were supposed to be this way.  A lesbian. I felt betrayed. Felt like all those things we’d done, feelings we’d shared were reduced to a falsehood.  I’ve never met a woman gayer than you.  So I wonder about you tonight.  Wonder why you’re not online.  What you’re doing while you’re not online.  Are you sleeping or drunk?  But in my heart of hearts, I know.  I know you’re with another woman. Why did you contact me before you left for London; while you were there; and again when you got back?  Why’d you bring me anything as if you and I were friends? I’m so sick of you and the memory of us.  I wish I could take a putty knife to my insides and scrape away what feels like emotional sludge.  Anything that sits around for too long molds.  This thing that I have for you feels like an open wound.  Everytime it tries to heal, I pick at it.  So many people have come into my life, wanting to be where I want to be, and yet I refuse.  I met someone the other day online.  She was nothing like you.  It had been so long since anyone excited me, made me hunger and think about sex.  I masturbated when I got off the phone with her.  Just the thought of who she said she was, because you know you can never tell online, was sexy…5’10, Jamaican accent, intelligent, aggressive.  The thought of her makes me want to cum again.

I stroked myself off last night to thought of my ex, the way her tongue used to feel on my clit, how insistent her mouth was, and how much pleasure she gave me.  I woke up thinking about her, thinking about how much I wanted her, and the fact that she will always own my first orgasm.  It’s been almost a year since I had sex and I fear that I’ll never have sex like I had with her again. I used to count her eyelashes.  I miss holding her hand. 

I guess she’s heavy on my mind because of the upcoming holiday. My love-energy is a bit off right now. I don’t feel any particular kind of chemistry with anyone and the one person that kick starts my hormones is as unsure about a future with me as I am about a future with her.

Oh well, just shake it off. In the grand scheme of things, my love life is the last thing I need to be worried about.  I have events to plan, a new job to find, an old job to report to, kids to raise, three books to write, and a ton of other shyt to do. I’ll just immerse myself in those things and the romantic stuff will work itself out.