Janna, a girl I teach with, is getting married on June 11. There are only four fellow English teachers invited; Alex and I are two of them. Today Janna texted me that Alex is bringing his girlfriend to the wedding. Of course he is, she's his girlfriend. That doesn't mean that I didn't feel like someone punched me in the stomach when I read Janna's text. Why would he want to be in such an uncomfortable situation? Why would he want to put ME in such an awkward position? These thoughts raced through my head over and over, swirling together. Then I realized...he hasn't given a shit about me before. Why would he start now?
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My brothers have a new apartment.
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Decorated and furnished in large part by our parents' castoffs...it makes me sad to see Kevin using the nightstand my mom used when I was in a crib in her bedroom...and to see Dennis putting leftovers in a '70s warped Tupperware bowl with the lid long-gone.
Sometimes the fact that our parents are gone fills the space of the entire room. They're everywhere, but not at all.
It all came crashing down
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I want too much
I always want too much
And he walked away
And he was angry with me.
For the first time
he was angry with me.
And I got it--my answer.
It hurts, this lump of shame and embarrassment that I carry
In my heart.
I want too much.
You told me I was a good kisser.
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You told me I smelled good.
You told me I was beautiful.
If you wanted to talk to me constantly throughout the Diversity Club assembly, why didn't you just sit next to me?
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It's OK, though. Because I like how you leaned over and down to the bleacher I was sitting on so many times that I could feel your entire body leaning towards me the entire 70 minutes we sat in the crowded, hot gym, even when I wasn't looking back at you.
And I like how when I looked back at you to make a face, laugh, or mouth something, you were always, always looking at me.
The air between us is still electric.
You have to do something.
It's textbook to not get involved with an involved man, but I did. I am a walking cliche.
After another charged get-together (one that we kept public, though), we...he...said he has to take care of business at home before he can do anything else. He's been unhappy forever, but has not done anything for financial reasons, for reasons of too much effort, for whatever reasons people stay in bad relationships. I know. I understand. Logically.
I work with him every single day. There is still enormous electricity running between us every time we're in the same room. I don't know what to do about it. Should I start eating lunch in my classroom? Avoiding him at all costs?
Should I hate myself more than I do now for letting this happen while he still has a girlfriend? I don't know...I only hate myself a little bit for that. She sounds like a crazy bitch...my assessment, not his.
But I hate myself for settling for less than the best, because as much as I love this person, I'm not getting what I need in return and he is ultimately not right for me. Not now.
That is one bitter, bitter pill to swallow.
"Do you remember that mass we went to a few months ago? The one for Declan Sullivan?"
"Do you remember how you stepped out into the aisle during the sign of peace?"
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"What were you doing, standing in the aisle like that?"
"I was looking for you."
Here's how I felt today: like I was sitting on top of an elephant. Trying to keep upright, trying to keep everything balanced, but still terrified that the elephant below me was going to shift and I was going to tilt off sideways and plummet to the ground.
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I don't care how much I wanted what happened to happen, it isn't worth how I feel today. And every day. It isn't worth this feeling of empty desperation, of grabbing frantically at something that isn't even there, but grabbing at it anyway because I don't know what else to do.
My birthday was at the end of November, and I cobbled together a few friends to go out on Saturday night. People backed out at the last minute left and right, but I got what I wanted...a gathering of people, a dive bar, and Alex texting me to say he'd be there.
I have never felt so full of joy as I was when he walked into the run-down, nasty bar and we hugged hello. I had been drinking for a few hours already by this point, but on top of that, the fact that he met me out for my birthday made me feel jubilant. I don't even know how else to describe it. Life was perfect.
When my friends drifted home, Alex and I went across the street to an even mangier bar and spent a merry two hours making friends, playing songs on the jukebox, doing shots, and generally carrying on.
He drove me home and parked his car instead of dropping me off.
He kissed me on my front walk, taking me so by surprise that he almost knocked me down with his intensity. When he let me go I stared at him, stunned, then continued to smoke my cigarette, giggling madly. I knew what was going to happen next and I wanted time to go in slow motion.
I have never felt so elated in my life.
When we got inside we pretty much tore each other's clothes off, talking, laughing, confessing, and having the best experience I have ever had in bed with another person. For every whispered confession that I had about waiting for him on the way to lunch so that we could sit together, he had one about how he'd noticed the first time after my surgery that I'd worn a skirt.
"Do you like me, Alex?" I asked him. "Do you like me as much as I like you?"
"Yes," he breathed, gathering me up and practically suffocating me in his arms. "Yes, Amy. Yes."
7:15 a.m mass in the chapel at school. A small room at the very tip of the building. Cozy, dark, carpeted except for the marble flooring that surrounds the altar.
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We are remembering a 2008 graduate who died while filming football practice at Notre Dame. It's not a mandatory mass for anyone, but I feel it's important that I go. I get there early and sit in on the raised platform behind the altar. Steps in front of the altar lead down to overflow seating, and both areas soon fill up with solemn-faced students. They came to school an hour early to attend this mass. They didn't have to. They are awesome kids.
I'm clutching my coffee, whispering with the principal, waiting for mass to begin, when I catch sight of Alex...my English teacher friend from a few entries ago...the one who is living with his girlfriend, but who is my best friend at work. He slips in and sits in an aisle seat. I am facing the back of the priest and he is facing me. We don't acknowledge each other or even make eye contact, but I feel electricity running between us. When I turn my head to the right I can't see him because he is obscured by a pillar. I am glad for this. I don't want to be distracted like we are at faculty meetings, whispering to each other, making faces.
The mass is quiet, and sad, and we can hear the wind howling outside the chapel, the wind that took the life of the 20-year-old man we're there to remember. When the priest asks us to offer each other a sign of peace, I hug my principal, I hug the campus minister, a science teacher, one of my sophomore girls who is sitting behind me. I turn to face forward, and then my eyes sneak over to where Alex is sitting.
He steps out into the aisle from behind the pillar and meets my gaze. He points at me, then at himself. He puts his hand down, then puts it back up. He makes the peace sign, then points to himself and then to me. He doesn't break the solemnity of the moment with a smile. He is looking directly into my eyes the entire time. He steps back behind the pillar and to his seat.
After mass, he stays behind to help stack up chairs from the overflow area. I sneak out the back way.
I know what it means to love someone, and it may not be romantic, and it may not be what I want, but I know that I love him.
I kept seeing Jon.
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He runs hot and cold...sometimes texting me up a storm, sometimes barely saying hi, I'm fine, great, have a good day.
We've been planning to get together in the morning because it's (finally) my divorce day. We've been talking about it excitedly for a week.
This morning I texted him and told him I have my period. I didn't think he'd care, frankly, but thought I should mention it since our get-togethers are pretty much ALL ABOUT THE SEX. We usually go out to eat, too, and talk talk talk up a storm, but we are also really both fans of the sex together, and I'm sorry if that's TMI, but it's true. After being in a pretty much sexless marriage (for the last couple of years) this has been fun for me.
He said he'd call later. I immediately knew he wasn't coming.
Then later he texted me...TEXTED me...to tell me that it would be more fun for both of us if we waited till next week. I said, "Call me, please."
He did and I flipped. I said, "I thought part of you coming here was to see me? To talk to me? Because you have missed me?" He said it is...but that it's such a production, leaving home at 4:45 a.m. to come to my house before we both go to work, that he'd rather save it for when we can do our usual routine. Meaning two hours of sex.
I said, that's NOT OK with me. I'd been looking forward to seeing him, and felt like an object. Like if I am not in perfect working condition, I'm not worth the trouble.
He said that's absolutely not the case, and that waiting a week isn't a huge deal.
I said it IS a huge deal, it's the point! And that I thought he was also coming tomorrow because, as a friend, he wants to support me and make this day kind of fun for me.
He said he knew that. And that he didn't know what else to tell me.
I stood my ground and told him that I was sorry if it was hard for him to hear, but I was disappointed, and that I was hurt that he was putting so much emphasis on the sex part of our get-together. He said it's not a big deal, what's another week, and that it would be better if we could have a normal get-together because he can't do it very often.
We agreed to disagree, and then I texted him later to say that his actions were making me feel used and cheap. He said he didn't mean to come across that way. I said, then come tomorrow. He said "Don't be sad." I said, "That's not how sad works." He said, "Quit it already. You are reading too much into this."
Why is it so hard for me to stand up for myself? I am trying to stop myself from texting him AGAIN to ask him AGAIN to come tomorrow. I just want things to be how I want them, no matter what the reality is.
I want to be able to say fuck him, I'm moving on.
But that's hard. I like him.
But he doesn't like me the way I want him to, and I guess the way I need him to.
So why am I not completely closing the door on his ass?
I WISH I HAD SOMEONE HERE TO DRINK BEER WITH AND WATCH JERSEY SHORE. I feel so alone right now. :-(
Here's where I'm at: I need to break up with him. Well, that's hilarious. There is nothing to "break up"! Because we're not "together." We are fuck buddies, and that is juuuust about all we are.
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I don't particularly LIKE him all that much.
I like having someone interested in me. I like the ZING of getting and returning texts. I certainly like the ZING of a sexual relationship. But him, himself? Eh. Maybe if I spent more time with him in surroundings that aren't my bedroom or a restaurant we could explore that. But he isn't in any particular hurry to do that, and I can't make him.
I don't need to enumerate what is "wrong" with him--that's mean, and that's not the point.
I am going to need to go about this as maturely and as smartly as I know I'm capable of.
Right now, my first instinct is to just change my thinking, my expectations. To let things go on, but to try and not be so invested.
But that's not enough. That's not being good enough to myself. It's also setting myself up to do a lot of work, mental work, emotional work, that I don't want to do.
I am worthy of having someone who allegedly likes me (Why is it that saying "I like you" is enough for him? He is the least affectionate person I've ever met in my life.) take three minutes to listen to me tell him why I'm not going to be available for him anymore.
That last sentence is one I need to study, and simmer in, and really, truly believe. Because it's the difference between not truly ending it and ending it.
And I know what I need to do to be true to myself, and to treat myself kindly. And that is to end it.
Stop right now. Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop.
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This is not in your control. You can't make this go how you want. You can't strongarm what you want. You can't MAKE what you want happen.
So stop. Trying. Stop thinking you can.
Move forward. Forward. That way. Which is forward.
Do not start going in circles. You are now going in a circle. Stop that. Stop circling. You have a finite amount of time in life, and you are going to waste a month on this, trying to wrestle it where you want it to go. It's not going to happen, so why are you wasting your energy?
That's another thing. What kind of energy do you want around you? Is what you're doing drawing that type of energy in? Are you messing up your enviornment by putting out lots of angsty, needy, shitty energy? WHY I THINK YOU ARE. So stop it.
Stop. There's more out there. More. Out There. Trust. Trust that this isn't the end, the last one. Maybe for awhile, maybe not, but it's definitely not over. So trust. Be quiet. Sit down. Stop hunching over your phone like a goddamn lunatic. Just stop.
Let it go. Let it go. Breathe in, breathe out. Look another way. Be glad for what was, but don't smother it. Don't be a freak. You are not the person you were when you were 25 years old. You know more, you have more patience, and you have a lot more going on in your life than you ever, ever have.
Plus, didn't you want to enjoy this time? Didn't you spend 11 years wanting to make out with someone new? What, you want that door closed again? NO YOU DON'T. You do actually like this. You do. So enjoy it. Don't smother it.
You will be fine. You will be happy. You will find more to think about. There is plenty more to think about. Take your head out of the water and just BE for a few minutes.
Believe. Believe. Believe.
I have a crush at school. I've kind of had it for a long time, but of course it was just some passing thought because I was happily married.
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But now that I'm not, I am seriously ready to MAKE. OUT. WITH. HIM. NOW. He has a girlfriend, but we've been clicking like mad lately.
I wish my hormones would settle the fuck down back into dormancy, where they've been for so many years.
Remember that post from November? What am I supposed to make of this text from him last night at 10:00 p.m., about finding out that his girlfriend is officially renting out their house (against his wishes) to make a profit so they can live somewhere cheaper?
"Marilyn found a renter. Moving. Crap. Listening to Wish You Were Here. Irish whiskey."
I am trying SO HARD to do the right thing and not have a raving crush on someone who has a live-in girlfriend, but he's not making it very easy! I mean, there HAS to be some subliminal message in there, RIGHT? Is it me? GAH, DUDE.
I took pictures once to send to my friend Anne who lives far away, and then took them again when I realized I had the same outfit on. The third time I wore the outfit (yesterday) I took them again.
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77 pounds down since I originally started. I posted some of those too, pictures of me from when I originally started.
I'm sort of having a series of hookups with an ex-boyfriend. It's kind of steamy (no sex though) and flirty and even though I am so clearly doing it to get over the pain of rejection, I kind of like it.
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He has an on-again, off-again girlfriend, though, which makes me feel guilty.
Not guilty enough to refrain from indulging in some dirty texting, though.
I know. I'm a ho. Ho ho ho!
None of the answers I'm looking for are on Facebook, so I can probably stop checking it every five minutes.
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I have a "real" journal at www.parsley.org
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This here LiveJournal exists so I can keep up with people I like reading.
That's all you need to know. There there.
I have a liiive journal
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I have a liiiive journal
(doing fan kicks across the room)
I have a liiive journal