Someday, Forever.

I think it's no secret that Yoshi and I have had our fair share of struggles, some of them in the very recent past.

Being with him is easy because we get along so well, but being in a relationship where thoughts and feelings and opinions are valued is not.  Not every day is easy.

To be honest, there have been times where I've really genuinely thought about leaving.  After we moved in together that got a little more complicated, but during the rare instances where we've had really bad fights and I get overly emotional there are still times during which a stubborn and independent part of me thinks, "Meh, I don't need you.  I can survive on my own.  I can do whatever I want.  I'll just leave, then you'll see."

But that's not how a long-term relationship works, is it?

In a long-term relationship, a real partnership that becomes a pillar on which to base your life, you don't get to just leave because there was a hard day or a hard week or they said something wrong or they didn't pick the movie you wanted.

That would be silly, not to mention a waste of a tremendous amount of effort.  Those are things you can do, in my opinion, up until your one year anniversary.  After a year you should probably be putting more thought into your reasons to leave, like you both aren't compatible on a level that matters and causes you to be unable to continue in the relationship.

I understand there are many reasons to break up.  You're monogamous and one of you cheats.  One of you becomes drug dependent.  One of you has to move for work or family.  Sometimes even family is the reason, whether they dislike your partner or your partner cannot accept your family.

I've even had moments in which I knew I had real motive to terminate my relationship, but I couldn't do it.  I wouldn't just be turning my back on the lover who had been there for me through all my issues without trying to understand him in return, but I also would have been losing my best friend.  So in the days where I was really and truly thinking about leaving I would pretend everything was fine instead.  When he was gone my heart would be breaking but when he was home I seemed okay.  Instead of going to bed and crying I would sit closer to him on the couch.  Eventually, we grew closer again emotionally, too.

I'm not saying if you're considering leaving your relationship that you shouldn't.  Each relationship you have is different and different to each person in it.

I'm saying that when I have childish thoughts about ending mine because he isn't perfect I subconsciously find reasons not to do so and things get better.  That's how I know he's right for me.

I no longer look at him with youthful eyes and think about what he could be to me.  I see him with eyes and a heart that have experienced years with him: multiple moves, illness of various types, depression, anxiety, a million meals, an equal number of miles on the road, staying up until dawn and going to bed while the sun is still in the sky in the evening...  It isn't just the initial emotions and little compatibility tests you give each other that become love; it's the milestones you celebrate, projects you complete together, and moments that pile on top of each other year after year.

When I started this blog I was just another damaged girl in her mid-twenties who figured she'd be single forever and ever.  I had finally reached a place where I was comfortable with being single and had started to accept and release what I went through with my ex,  I liked who I was and I liked my freedom.  Later that year I met Yoshi and a year after that we started dating.

The secret is that I never really thought the relationship between the girl who always dated older guys and the dude four years younger who always dated younger girls would last.  I thought it would just be hanging out, maybe some decent sex, and then it would fizzle.  Somewhere along the line we started learning how to be with each other and really working at it because neither of us was willing to give up on the fun we had together.

So, yes.  There have been rough patches.  There will be more.  I don't think either of us would be happy if there wasn't some kind of challenge in being together.  But there will also be more moments that I will never forget and moments that I will forget that I thought I never would.  Somehow the negative never piles up as high as the positive.  I think that is as it should be.

I can't say for sure there won't be a day in the future that one of us says we can't do this anymore, but I can say that if that day did come it wouldn't be a surprise to either of us.  There would have been a lot of damage along the road we took to get to that place.

I think it's more likely we'll wake up in our seventies and wonder where the last 50 years went and how they could have passed us by so quickly.

Who knows?

That's for Future Bunny to worry about.

The Way Hope Works.

I'm in a difficult situation.  One I've never really been in before.  

I've had a decent number of boyfriends in my life.  I'm pretty sure my parents only liked maybe two of them.  In the past I've more or less managed to avoid openly being with someone my parents hated.  All of my relationships lasted six months or less, except for two.  The shitstorm with Sterling and my current relationship.

Knowing my parents hated Sterling made me realize I could never spend my life with him, even if I forgave him for everything he put me through (which I have) and still loved him enough to want to be with him (which I don't).  

After Yoshi visited me in Redding last summer while we were having a lot of problems with our relationship (read: me being an insensitive asshole because I felt him stagnating/being dishonest with me and him being depressed as a result of pressure I was putting on him and neither of us talking about it) and they saw how unhappy I was and how dysfunctional our relationship was then, it seemed as though my parents more or less put him in the same box as Sterling.  

Now that we've solved most of our issues they seem to be the last to forgive him.  I understand because they haven't seen him once since last summer and the bullshit that occurred between August and November and they've always been protective of me.  I've obviously been kind of an idiot with men (see just about any entry from 2011/12).  It's just hard when the only relationship I've ever wanted to actually stay in for more than a year, the one I'd like to stay in for the rest of my life, is with one of the apparent multitude of men my parents hate.

At this point it feels as though every man I date is going to be someone my parents don't like.  And maybe that has to do with the kind of man they've always envisioned me being with.  I know they think I date losers and men who seek me out because of my strong personality.  I know that it's likely that they wouldn't like Yoshi even if they actually took the time to get to know him, but I wish that they would be willing to take that time.

It kills me every day to know that I have found the person I want to spend the rest of my life with and there is nothing he can do to be good enough for my parents.  And I hate that his family is so wonderful to me while mine pretty much shuns him.  I know that it hurts him, too, because he always dreamed that he would be close to his in-laws.  I dreamed that, too.  I wish we could both see our dreams come true.

I guess this is the downside to being close to your family and having respect for their opinions.  That it rips you apart when they don't approve of your choices or the one you love.

Sometimes I wonder if they are testing me.  That if I really want to be with someone I'll stick it out no matter what they seem to think about him.  I don't think that's likely, but if it is what's happening it's kind of an equally awful situation.

I'm lucky that Oose loves him so much.  She always did.  I think she always knew.  I think when you're as close to someone as we are you see when their partner actually fits as a potential lifemate.

I wish my parents could better understand the part I played in what happened last fall.  I wish they could see how happy I am now.  

Maybe one day they will.  

All I can do is hope.

Monster.

This is a continuation of a story I posted a couple of weeks ago.  Remember this is a work of fiction.  Mostly.

I quickened my steps. So did he.

My hand shook as I unhooked my keys from the strap of my purse.

He got close enough to need to slow down in order to match pace my speed. He walked about a foot behind me and just to my left. He stepped in front of me just before I reached the door to my car and leaned against the driver's door. There was no way I could unlock it, let alone open it to get inside.

I briefly considered running to the passenger side and sliding over, but he had always been much faster than me. Especially when it counted. I was trapped in the bar parking lot with him.

“Where the fuck do you think you're going?” he asked, his arms folded across his chest, the neon of his Avenged Sevenfold t-shirt showing above and below his brown skin.

“Home,” I answered shortly.

He laughed. It was the evil laughter of the maniac he became every time I crossed him. I had known this would happen. Why did I intentionally trigger it? Of course he cared. Even if he didn't care, he still attained some sick pleasure in torturing me.

“You're not going anywhere, you stupid bitch. You brought out the Monster and now you have to deal with it.”

“Why are you even upset? I thought you said you didn't care.”

“I just like to see you suffer, idiot stick. Now I'm not going to stop until you feel the pain I went through for you.”

“You put me through worse that I could ever imaging doing to you. I told you I was sorry. And I meant it. But there is nothing you can do to make me feel or act the way you have. For two reasons. One: you've already done worse. And two: I am not a crazy bastard. Unlike you.”

I know how to push his buttons just as well as he does mine and I can't stop myself from inciting him. Every time I speak I wish I would have just held my words inside me. But they fly out as if they have wings and minds of their own.

“I am not crazy. But if you want crazy, I can show you crazy.” His eyes no longer held any trace of the chocolate brown I was so accustomed to seeing glow with the embers of warmth and love. Now they only held blackness. Blackness and hatred and death.

I was getting too used to seeing these eyes. Yet somehow I didn't find myself getting used to the fear that accompanied his turning into the Monster.

I tried to swallow my fear. I was tired of the constant anxiety of having him in my life, but I didn't know how to live without the non-demonic side of him.

“I'm going home, Bamb.”

“Fine, bitch. I'm going with you.”

“No. You're not. I don't trust you enough to come home with me right now.” I measured my words very carefully, lest some unchecked tone-of-voice drive him over the edge. There was no one else in the parking lot. I knew from experience that no one would come if I screamed and someone would be unlikely to help when he hit me. If there was no one in the parking lot when he did it, I had a zero percent chance of being saved from his wrath. I had let my anger and frustration to get the better of me before, but I was on ice too thin to allow a show of emotion now.

“I don't care. I'm coming with you. Give me your keys.”

“No. Even if I felt safe letting you come home with me, I am not comfortable letting you drive. You've been drinking and you're upset.”

“I'm not upset. And I had two PBRs. I'm fine. Give me the fucking keys.”

I wrapped the key to my Honda as tightly in my small fist as I could. I knew he would ultimately get it out if he tried hard enough, but my hands were strong and it would take him a few minutes to pry up enough of my fingers the pull the keys out of them. That might buy me enough time for the two bikers that had looked as if they might be packing up soon to come out of the bar. It seemed unlikely, but I was grasping at any straw I could conceivably reach. Even biker straws.

“No. It's my car. I pay for it. I pay for the insurance. You've never paid for any bit of it. Plus you already have two DUIs. And you're girlfriend is going to start wondering where you are.”

“That retard is probably so high right now she won't even realize I'm gone for another three hours. Give me the fucking keys.” My ring finger and pinkie were both up already, his right hand keeping my left out of the way with minimal effort.

“Why do you stay with her?” I asked with genuine curiosity. I'd asked this same question many times before, but he'd always managed to somehow avoid it.

He sighed, agitated that I wasn't giving up already.

“Maybe because she actually wants me around? Because she's not you? I don't know.”

“It's not that I didn't want you around,” I said quietly. “It's that I didn't, and still really don't, trust you around me. For good reason.” He managed to get under my middle finger and push it away. Only my index finger and thumb were left. It would be seconds now before he was pushing past me into my car.

“Bamb.” He ignored me. I fought against him. “Bamb!”

“What?” He said, exasperated with me.

“You're too drunk to drive, honey.” I didn't even mean to say it. I didn't want him to drive my car, especially not right now. I just didn't mean to be so... Sweet about it. “You had shots earlier. Then some Sierra Nevada. Then you had the two PBRs. And you haven't been here that long.”

“Fuck,” he said, releasing his grip on my hand and leaning against my car beside me. “Fuck. You drive, then.”

“Where are we going?”

“I don't fucking know. Somewhere. Anywhere.”

“Okay.”

I unlocked the car and he held my door for me and closed it before walking around and climbing into the passenger seat.

“Let's drive to Reno,” I joked. The last time he kidnapped me he had planned to drive to Reno and marry me so he would have me forever.

“Whatever, bitch. Just have me back by two when the bars close. Where's your fucking iPod? I want some Avenged.”

I sighed and turned on the heater so the warmth would help me stop shaking, then handed him my old silver iPod. He plugged it in and chose a song as I turned left out of the parking lot. He chose the one song I never in a million years would have guessed he would put on.

Our song.

He crossed his arms and looked at me as a teardrop slid down my left cheek.

“I guess you can still feel something in that icy heart of yours,” he said.

I guess I could. More than I ever wanted to feel again.

Work in Fiction.

I'm trying my hand at a bit of fiction today.  I like fiction because it's much more fun than my everyday life and anything is possible.  I just never know how to end it.

This is kind of a really short story.  I don't know what I want to do with it, yet.  For now I'll probably just toss it in the "Works in Progress" folder on my laptop.

Hope you enjoy!



"Oh, no one ever told you? They put an expiration date on love."


No. No one ever told me that.

You'd think that would be on the list of important things to tell a little girl. You know, always keep your legs together when you're wearing a dress; always wash your hands after touching raw meat; wear cotton or you'll get a yeast infection; high-heels will make your ass look tighter; love expires... Seems like it should be one of the normal necessities needed in order to get through adolescence and some of adulthood.

"It's still there," he said, his chocolate eyes watery from beer and glazed with some kind of filthy, disgusting satisfaction. "There are embers from what once was a passionate fire that still glow. But it's like when medicine gets real old; you have to take a bunch for the pills to do anything worthwhile. That's how it is with us now. It would take more effort than it's really worth to start the fire back up again. And what would we get out of it? Just more pain. Just like before. I like being your friend. And I like the new fire I have with her now."

Her.

Sarah.

Even her fucking name seemed mediocre.

"I'll always love you. But it's different now. And I'm happy with the way my life is," he continued. I knew what he was insinuating. Happy the way my life is without you in it.

I knew he wasn't finished with his pointless and uninvited lecture. I pulled my dark sunglasses down over my eyes, despite the darkness of the bar. The other patrons had been awkwardly watching us for twenty minutes, probably because I was the only female in the place. I didn't want them to see me cry.

"It was good to see you. I really have to go," I said. He shrugged and turned away from me.  I practically ran out of the bar and into the harsh sunlight and screaming cars.

There's nothing quite like running out of a meeting with your ex, the one person you have and will always love, telling you they don't want you in their life except to be a friend and then having to wait pathetically at a crosswalk in five o'clock traffic.

He'd been dating her a little over a month. Helping with some business venture and sleeping on her couch.

She didn't know he talked to me every day. She didn't know that once every week or so we got together for beers and inapproprate conversation. She didn't know he still told me he loved me. She didn't know about the week before when he took me swimming in the surf of the ocean, then laid me down in it and kissed me, like an old black and white film. She didn't know the love in his eyes as he wrapped me up in his old blanket under the cool stars. She could never understand how the stars exploded like fireworks when we were together. He would never have that with her. I will never understand why he chose to have it with me that last night. Why he chose to be unfaithful. Why he ultimately chose her over me.

She didn't know he didn't come home that night because he was holding me. And he, quite obviously, was not about to tell her.

If I had been cheated on, I would want to know as soon as it happened.

Would she want to know now? If they got married, would he tell her then? Or would he just keep this massive infidelity to himself, hoping I wouldn't say anything, for the rest of his life?

Would she care that the baby I had been carrying was his? That it had been conceived while they were a couple?

I never told him about the baby.

I never will.

Her name is Lydia, after his grandmother. And when I look into her big chocolate eyes, I see his face... And the way he loved me. Many, many years ago.

The Snot, The Tears.

Some days I feel like a widow.

In fact, I frequently pretend you did die as a way to cope.

Every man I think I'm attracted to, every decision I make, everything... Everything just goes back to you.

Sometimes there are things I wish I could tell you. Things I wish I could have told you a long time ago. But then I remember.

I don't know how many times I said, “I love you.” I meant it every time and that's what made it so hard for so long. I don't know how many times I said, “Forgiveness doesn't mean being stupid enough to make the same mistake again.” I meant that, too. Even thought I did make the same mistakes. Over and over again. With you. Because this time was the time it was going to work out, this time was going to be the time we would stop fighting and be together forever.

That time never came.

Sometimes I wonder if everything you did was a lie. Because you had to have known how naïve I was. And it's funny how it worked out, that you became cruel just as I was too dependent on you to let go. I spent so long waiting for you to grow up, to man up, and it never happened. Things just got worse. And we blamed each other. I still blame you.

I want to hate you... So. Much.

I just can't.

But I am finally learning to let you go.

The problem is that it hurts so fucking much. Two and a half years and it hurts still. Every man I meet, I compare to you. Good and bad. Every guy I've dated since you just doesn't compare to the good things.

You were right when you told me no one would ever love me like you did. You just didn't take into account that no one could ever hurt me like you did, either.

When will this end?

When will I no longer ache for you? When will I stop crying for no reason?

When will I stop loving you?