heavy like a loaded gun

Dear Internet,
First, one of my pieces, “Devil’s Advocate: Just Because I Divorced Him Doesn’t Mean He’s Not My Best Friend”, was published today at A Practical Wedding. I’m proud of this piece and as an update, after reading this, TEH said, “When you get married again, let me know so I can send you a gift.”

We may not get along romantically, and we’ve made those lines very clear recently, but I don’t know what I would do without him.


It’s a truth universally acknowledged when I start dragging out Elbow, some emotional shit has gone down. I’m not sure how much I’m going to reveal at this juncture (you can wipe your computer screen now), but it has hit me to the core. Just — when I’m now at my lowest point, things never do change, do they? I guess I can believe what I want, as it was reiterated to me, to make myself feel better but when the same thing said now as in the past to erase one’s own pain, well, despite all of my faults, you can’t argue the same thing was not done thrice.


 

Star Wars: VII trailer dropped yesterday and in honor of that, I wrote up my first experience with Star Wars:

Ex-Fiance #1 and I met in 1994, I was working at a video store. He later told me he hemmed and hawed for months before asking me out, which lead to one of first dates watching Star Wars on laser disc because I was 22 and never saw the damned thing. Yes, the first time I saw SW, I was an old lady and it was on laser.

Over the years, we went from being together to not being together for a variety of reasons that I won’t go into now. As the relationship petered out, as they always do, we remained just plain old fuck buddies. Somewhere in between, he found a woman we referred to as Lisa-lite. She could have been my twin, the resemblance was that uncanny, down to some of her interests. I met her when my then boyfriend and I double dated with them. My then boyfriend looked liked Ex-Fiance #1. AWKWARD.

The midnight romance ends at some point and a few years go by. I’m working at a bookstore, putting myself through my first Master’s degree. Who but shows up one day is ex-Fiance #1 with a big smile on his face. He and Lisa-lite had gotten engaged and he tracked me down to tell me that. I was selfish sleeping with him for a very long time, but this was downright cruel. Almost unbearably so.

He then suggested since he bought her a black diamond engagement ring, I should buy matching earrings. He then left while I ran to the break room and cried for a solid half an hour.

Every time I hear the opening music to SW or read the opening scenes to episode IV, I start crying like a maniac. It’s slowed down considerably over the years, and I’m no longer (as much) of a crying mess. Whoever I’m going to see VII with, I come with tissues.”


 

Please watch your step, naval gazing ahead:

As I was writing this, it got me thinking about how I handled my romantic relationships of yore. First Miguel, who I had a thing on and off with for years, when beginning when I was 19 and he 20. He is living in Guam due to family business. He calls me one night, drunk, to tell me he has been fucking someone twice his age. To gain experience, he said. I was still the love of his life, he said. I went back and forth with him in-between other exes — always him telling me I was the one for him, me falling for it, and then him doing something awful. And as time went on, he stopped calling and I stopped having to defend my no’s. He contacted me in 2012 and again last year, which lead to an interesting conversation. (If he’s anything, he’s at least predictable. I’ll probably hear from him next year, as he will then be due to profess his love.)

Next Alan, who dumped me for another woman but kept coming back for more until that faithful night when I, at a bar, she and I got into a fist fight and I had to be dragged off and out by bouncers. He’s living somewhere in Detroit, married, has kids. He once got in touch with me back in the early naughts, about a decade after we had last spoken, to see how I was. “I think about you a lot,” he says. “I miss you,” he says. But then I never heard from him again. Of course.

Then Danny a few years later. We date for six months, I have a massive panic attack about being stuck in suburbia so I cut and run. I come back. I cut again. I come back. At some point we went down to just fuck buddies (see above) and he marries Lisa-lite.

TheExHusband. We date for 18 months. I run. He tracks me down nearly a decade later. We get married. He stops treating me like a wife and more like a roommate. I threaten divorce. Nothing happens. I leave him after nearly seven years. After the divorce, he’s been contrite as to why he was hurting me. We’re slowly building our friendship back together. We’re not dating, just very close friends.

I split up with TheExHusband.

TheBassist tells me he’s got me.

TheBassist. Hoo boy. We date in 2005. He cuts and runs and goes back to his ex-wife. He contacts me six months later, they have separated again. He leaves me again. Flash forward to nearly a decade. He’s been leaving me love notes across the Internet during that entire time. Everyone in his circle knows about the Michigan Girl. Even his girlfriends know during that decade of silence. I am a force to be reckoned with, he says. No one has loved him like I loved him, he says. He was wrong, he says. He made a mistake, he says. I am the love of his life and if he can’t have me, he doesn’t want anyone else, he says.

“I know she doesn’t remember me, since it was about nine years ago now, but in Grand Rapids I made a very large mistake with someone else’s very important organ. I chose what was safe over what made me happy, and I proceeded to reprogram myself. Grand Rapids became my codeword for not choosing love over security, a monument to my own cowardice.”

My life is shit. I’m no mentally stable. I have no job. I’m essentially homeless. I never not believed in us, I just never believed in me. I cut and run. I come back. I cut and run. I come back. In between all of this, I run out of money. Then he cuts and runs with the same reasoning as 2005: He made a unilateral decision on what was best for me rather than letting me make that decision myself on what was best for me. (And trust me, I begged and pleaded for him to not do this again. “It’s like 2005 all over again,” I cried hysterically into the phone. “It is and it isn’t,” he says.)

“Are you going to love me always?” I ask later. “You’re a piece of my heart,” he responds.

(This time, unlike other times, all of this is verbatim from texts and comments spanning the Internet. Memories are rotten bastards but at least this time around I have primary sources to back me up.)

I’m as equal as anyone in what went down, but, when I’m at the lowest point of my life, to leave? Again? (To be brutally fair, despite my anger at him leaving, he couldn’t take the back and forth. “We’re always on pause,” he says. “I wait for you. It’s what I do,” he says. But it just hurts beyond human reasoning he leaves when I am at rock bottom. I am no angle in this world of ours, and I get that. But that doesn’t make it any less painful when he said goodbye on the phone.)

I’m a hot mess and also human. In the past I’ve bent the truth, I’ve blown things out of proportions, I’ve been a bitch. I’ve had my share of moments. Life is a fucking chaotic mess. Nothing is black and white. There are blurred lines everywhere. I’m constantly at war with my own self-esteem.

There is never someone who isn’t as in touch with their foils, foibles, and feelings like yours truly. Jesus fuck, I’ve been examining the human psyche via my own life for years.

It’s intoxicating being told you are the love of someone’s life and in the case of TheBassist, to reply that was true from me as well. But what does that mean in the long run? Do you cut your losses when shit hits the fan? Do you work through the shit? Why aren’t there any concrete answers?

I’m in love with love, and I freely admit it. Who doesn’t want that kind of intoxication? And I’m more in love with TheBassist than in love itself. Fucking bastard. He of the big words, lightening intelligence, and fabulous hair.

(I am not terribly surprised my comment from above, “I’m not sure how much I’m going to reveal at this juncture,” turned out not to be true.)

I want to take responsibility for my own actions. I want to see clear-eyed for the future to really think about what it means to be in love, whether TheBassist and I end up working shit out or not. Because if he asked me to, I would do it all over again.

I want to feel to be the center of someone’s world. I want them to be there when shit hits the fan and when I laugh as they drive around cloverleafs because that simple act makes me happy. I want my own life and be the part of someone’s life. And even when I am at my lowest, I won’t stop believing that such a love exists.

And if it’s not him, and someone else comes along (much) later on, I will still take that chance, foolish me, to give it 1000% and to love big. Love large. And when my heart gets broken, again, I’ll pick myself up and do it all over again.

Here are my mediations on love. Die trying.

I still believe in love, so fuck you.

xoxo,
Lisa

This Day in Lisa-Universe: 2013, 2010, 2003, 2003, 2001, 1998

It’s all for you baby.

I’m done killing kethryvis I think, I’ve been serenading her with Tommy Page lyrics for a while now and she says she has to go brush her teeth from the sweetness. hah.

So, before I go to bed, I just wanted to jot this down.

I mentioned about finding someone recently and getting in touch with them. I’m good at that, you know, finding people. His name was Mike. (hence he started the trend where I state all men named michael have broken my heart — except dear humandays, cos I lurve him).

I’m very punch drunk.

As I was saying, I met Mike when I was 17. He’s like in the top three guys that have been hugely influenced on me. First off, he pursued me. LIke relentlessly. Like intensely. Our relationship spanned on and off for five years, I don’t think anyone has pursued me as much as he did, almost frighteningly and I was ms “Oh, no, I’m not getting involved” with him kind of thing. Which of course caused him to pursue me even harder. But he stuck by me for a lot of things and well, there were some times I treated him pretty badly. It was fucked all around.

Things were heavily complicated. Especially when you are 17, 18 and 19, ane especially 20, 21.

So the crux is:
Mike’s family was/is pretty influential in the area and he ended up leaving and going to Guam, and shit changed drastically between us. He wanted me to come out and we were going to get married and all these big huge dreams when you are 18, 19, 20 years old. Then one night he calls me and he tells me he had been with someone. An older woman. And he was drunk. I was floored. You know how it is when you finally work your trust down and you finally say “Okay, yah, I want to trust this person” and they hurt you and you kick yourself in the ass about it. Well it was like that. and he had the gall to say “I did it all for you baby.” Jesus, I can still see the image of the scene when he told me on the phone and my facial expression in the window pane.

Shortly after that, I ended up dating Alan, which lead to another interesting period in my life. which is neither here nor there. And Mike flew back from Guam and he walked into the store I was working at out of the blue, with two plane tickets to go back to Guam, and one of them was for me. And here I am 20 years old and what the fuck am I supposed to say that ? I said no. I was with Alan, he was THE ONE. hah. Boy was I wrong. But I was young and god, things were just intense. And the look in those big green eyes of his when I said no and when he left. I cried, convinced i had made the right decision.

My relationship with him was like that, on/off, for a long time. I guess in a way I’ve been disappointed that he’s never come looking for me? Maybe I fancied myself as being HIS ONE and therefore thought he would try to save me (from whatever — probably myself) Mike did a lot of actions that I always based future boyfriends on. You know, if XXX loved me he would pursue me the way Mike did. Whatever, the point being that there is a lot of unfinished business between us.

So I’m browsing around on classmates.com and I’m thinking “oh i wonder if xxx” is on there and I narrow the search to all students who are there from 1987-1992 or something silly and his name shows up on second or third page. I just kind of sat there and looked at it and looked at it again. I sorta half laughed, half cried. A few years ago when I was home when my mom was sick, Josh said he stopped by and asked about me. Wanted to get in touch with me. Josh hadn’t spoken to me since I had left for SF and no one knew how to get in touch with me.

So sent him, Mike, and email message, no word back.
I have not spoken to him since 1994? 1995? I still remember his smell, Joop! cologne for men. heh. He had the biggest green eyes. Great voice. Chubby in all the right places.

We were so fucking innocent, it’s almost painful to think about.
I do not romantically hold ideals he’ll come and rescue me, because i know that won’t happen, But I do know I’ll see him again and then we can finally get closure to this whole mess. I just hope he’s happy. I also know I’ll see him when I least expect it.

our song is below: shut up.

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when we were kids

he left me when we were kids.

i was 19 and he was 21 at the time when the affair had started. mere children. shortly after i had turned 20, the man who i had thought was the one i was going to marry me, was planning on marrying someone else.

for a decade he has haunted me.

i moved as far away as possible and yet i still see him nearly everywhere i go. one day i was having lunch with a friend and I had thought I had seen him and his wife walking by us, leaving the restaurant. i was three thousand miles from home and i think this is him.

it wasn’t, obviously, he.

it wasn’t me he had wanted, it was her. it wasn’t him at the restaurant, it was someone else. but seeing or thinking i saw him was enough, if even for that briefest of seconds.

when he and i lived in the same city, i used to see him occasionally around town. driving down the street, going into clubs, seeing him in stores. he was always alone and she was never around.

when he had broken up with me, i was devastated. with him, i was everything i thought i could be. i was loved and loving. old and young. pure and a whore. he made possible everything in my heart that had know even known existed or was too scared to show. my own sensual and sexual identities were pushed forward and ripped apart when he was around.

i thought he was the one. i thought we were going to get married.
this to me was love.

it was christmas 1992. I was wearing some paisley/floral type dress i had purchased for the informal christmas party that was being held at his brothers place. i remember watching his brother and his wife and thinking ‘this is what i want. i want to marry him and bear him children and we can have this fantastic life together’. i truly believed that. i envied his brother and adored his sister- in-law. his nephews were not that much younger than we were at the time. I remember us leaving and holding the jewelry box they had given me for christmas that year. his mother had given me a ring that belonged to her mother several months prior to all of this. i think they thought that i was the one, and i wasn’t. i do not know what happened to the jewelry box. the ring i kept and have lost it along the years.