Tag Archives: lust

Forever

Holy. Shit.

There’s something about NewGuy and I that we simply can’t just have a weekend to ourselves. We always have to share, with deep things, hard things, and interesting stuff. Like. Forever. (Among other deep things)

How is it you make relationships work? We’re going so fast skipping through all the “How do I tell him I was in a bad relationship” aspect. Or hiding things to try and save each other’s feelings. Instead we do the rational thing and talk about it, and talk, and cry, and talk, and cry and lose sleep. How is it you make a relationship work? Because sooner or later my smile isn’t going to be the thing that makes him smile. We won’t always have constant butterflies, at what point will these cute puppy dog things wear off and become real? Who’s to say though, that what we have is not real just because it is cute, and will it wear off or will we always be able to look at each other and smile? What happens when we stop thinking like the honeymoon couple and start thinking like the old couple sitting on the bench? How do you become that old couple? Why is it so scary losing him? I love him so much and I can’t image anyone else spending *gulp* forever with. Just… What if…? And, How? How does this work?

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That Night

Went something like this…

Me: NewGuy you just don’t understand. For years it’s been me. Sure I have my sister, and Margie, and others but it’s been me. Everyone knew I went through my own stuff I didn’t talk about things I didn’t need help. Then you. You come and you hold me, you hug me, and you love me. *Starts to cry* You tell me that everything’s okay. You tell me it’s not my fault. You tell me I’m beautiful.

Communication between us.

Me: I’m okay I’m just sad I’m leaving, and I never expected to find someone like you. To be treated the way you treat me. It’s good NewGuy. It’s scary lovinging someone and giving you so much trust, but I love you.
NewGuy: It’s suppose to be scary. It’s suppose to be new and exciting. You know I love you right?
Me: *slowly tears fall down my face again and I nodd as he reaches for me*

How did I get so lucky?

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This Weekend

NewGuy will be here. You see NewGuy and I had a very emotional leaving last time. Which consisted of me crying, for hours. on end. Hours. No Joke.

I was starting to get sad about not seeing him for a whole month when I decided. I am in love with this man. So I said it. I said, “NewGuy. I love you.” Which he smiled from finally hearing it from me and returned the love. Then I started thinking, and this is where it all went down hill. Fast.

I love him. I love how he holds me. I love how he accepts me. I love how he holds my hand because he wants to be near me, not because I am trapping his hands to get them off of me. I love the way he tells me he loves me. I love the way he cares for me. I love how he doesn’t take me for granted. I love how good he is, to me, and to so many other people. I really love him. Then I started thinking about how good he is to me.

I knew the tears were coming so I spaced myself from him. You’re so good to me you’re breaking all my hard seams and tough lines. He immediatly asked what was wrong and I tried to shake it. I tried to curl myself into him and focus on the movie. I couldn’t. I turned my head into his chest and stopped watching the movie. And silently, tears started falling from my eyes. First because I was leaving the man I just said I loved, and secondly because NewGuy is so good. Good I didn’t think I’d ever find. Or deserve.

NewGuy: Look at me.
Me: *Shakes head*
NewGuy: Look at me.
Me: *Sniffles* No

Then he picked up my chin and was forced to see the tears rolling down my face. We spent the night talking about how bad things were, and how scared I was back then. How I’ve always had to be tough and for the first time I’m allowed to be weak. I’m allowed to let someone take care of me. I finally went to bed at one exhausted from crying. He couldn’t sleep because I was sad.

I love him.

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Indeed I am Alive

I’ve been really busy lately, working two jobs, missing the boyfriend, working at home, chores, and other life things that I haven’t had time to write about this blog. That and for the time being I just want to celebrate all the good things in my life. I am afraid I don’t do that enough, therefore here are a list of a lot of excellent things I have in my life.

A growing wardrobe that I love.
A growing wardrobe of hippie items.
Size six pants, that I don’t feel fat in.
Two Jobs.
A flight to Ireland in January.
A retreat with my church in early fall.
Great friends keeping in touch with me.
A creative writing project that is still blossoming.
Plans. I have plans.
I have someone who loves me. For exactly. Who I am.
I have family that is chaotic and well a lot of them.
I have talent in the kitchen, and the patience to let it grow.
I have caring siblings.
I have a celebration for life.

Life. Is. Good.

More to come…

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I have an irrational fear

Of dying early. Because well here’s my philosophy.

My life has been.. filled. With great people. Great feats. Adventures and challenges. I had a grandmother who loved me to her dying day, and I was present at her dying day holding her hand and sending her on her way with love. I have learned how to remain close with my family no matter how far away they travel. I have been tested in strength, morals, and I have learned the right love and the wrong. I’ve traveled to Canada and found my inner hippie on a mountain becoming an environmentalist. I went to Mexico to help children, and learned more about my life.

I think that god (or who ever) is filling my life as much as possible because it’s going to be cut short. There’s been so much I’ve learned and so much, done so much. More things than people my age normally go through, work through, see and do. And normally I am 100% okay with my idea of things being cut short. Except. Well. I want a future. I want more. I want things to keep coming. I want this everyday, because today he made my day with a phone call:

I called because I wanted you to know I love you so much and I miss you.

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That Test Raped Me

I swear to you if I heard this phrase one more time during finals week I was going to shit myself. I realize there are some politically incorrect things I say. I try as hard as I can to say something that wouldn’t offend anyone, except what’s the big deal. Let me tell you what the big deal is for me.

I’m sitting in a van full of NewGuys friends and they joke about being “violated” I try to laugh really hard with them, but it’s fake. Real fake. So I lose points for being fake and then I lose for laughing at something that sucks for me. Except NewGuy kind of catches on that “That jokes not so funny for me” but I try to look out the window and act like neither of us notice. Inside I know though that every time someone mentions that a flash of me in a lot of pain, in a lost place, in a dark time, comes running to my mind. And while violated and that test raped me means nothing but humor to them, to me it is a flash of a reminder. An update that I’m not like everyone else. A check that I’m still in the same place he left me, broken and used.

So I want to thank you, you who use these phrases. They make me feel less than human. They make me branded with the word used. They make me a prude if I ask you to stop, and they make me everything I don’t want to be. For a second you are no better than Steve. While NewGuy can catch on and hold on to my hand squeezing a little tighter in that I’m not going anywhere type move, know that your burning old scars.

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NewGuy

I went a week without seeing him. This whole summer thing is going to be difficult, let me list a few things I missed about him.

The way he drops everything to give man kind the shirt off his back.
The way he looks after he’s given up that shirt.
The way his whole face smiles when he smiles.
The sounds of his laughter.
The softness in his touch and voice.
The enduring touches he does when we hold hands, sit together, sit near each other, walk across the room from each other, say goodbye, and other things.

The way he makes me smile.
The way he makes me laugh.
The way he pulls my hair out of my face.
The way his finger tips feel on my hand.
The laughter that we share.

I prayed to god the other day not to take away such a good thing. I really hope he listens.

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