An expensive lesson

He said to me this time, "I really do not or did not try to f*ck with you! I really didn't think I was leading you on tho! I don't like hurting you so I just thought that I should speak up now befor things go heavier!" That was his exact message. I should have known. Being friends is something woman say when they want to trick guys into getting back together by allowing them to see how amazing they are by remaining friends. I keep putting him on this pedestal, thinking he's this great guy because he has treated me the best out of the revolving door of losers that I have been through this past year/life. Turns out he's worse because he's in camouflage. I tell him that I don’t want to talk about it anymore, I don't understand him. I'm lost in emotions, not sure if I should be sad or angry or relieved. I'm not really surprised. The only thing that would surprise me would be someone who stayed. I knew this would happen, I told him this would happen. I am fantastic. He did see that when I was there. He kept saying, I want to kiss you, please stay. Stay with me, I miss you. Holding my hand and hugging me. Calling me babe. And like the woman I don't want to be, I ate it up. I want to be loved and love in return. The problem is I usually offer love without being loved in return. I allowed myself to be led on. I didn't stay though and I wouldn't let him kiss me because I knew this would happen. So I am angry because I was right. I am angry because he is exactly who I thought he was. But I'm not sad. Embarrassed for being tricked again, pissed that it cost me $350.00 because my car got towed at his shitty apartment that I previously vowed never to go to again, but not sad. An expensive lesson to learn. Next time I would rather just pay the money and hold onto my heart.

The Next Intended Thing

I have been planning this party for weeks. I decided I was going to have a holiday party and it completely consumed me. Planning menus, shopping, baking. All for tonight which turned out less than perfect. I have been so excited. Something to look forward to and focus energy on. I want to love people. I want to make sure they are taken care of. I wanted them to feel included and special. I thought about everyone. What they would want and enjoy. It started earlier today when Boston said he wasn't coming. Actually he didn't say anything. That would out of character. Instead, I heard through Andrew, my gay boyfriend, that he wasn't coming. I planned special beverages just for him. I planned an entire non-alcoholic menu. Just so he would feel loved and respected. I went out of my way to invite Fiona when I knew it was going to make other people uncomfortable. I invited everyone so everyone would feel included and welcome. Instead, they didn't come. Then I got a message from Jay-Z that he wanted to come but felt awkward. He didn't want to confuse things between us. I didn't realize there were things to confuse. He can't come because he doesn't trust himself and he is confused. If I have to hear about his f*cking confusion one more f*cking time, I swear. It's like Buzz and the damn writing on the wall. Literally. He talked about it for months. The things he said when he thought it was me still echo in my dreams of him. He was mean when he wanted to be. Then when he finally got it through his head that I don't make it a habit to drive all over Oregon writing hurtful things on bathroom stalls about him, he was obsessed with talking about who it could have been. I blamed friends and went along with his delusion only because it kept him from blaming me. Then he started on why wasn't I a better woman. Why hadn't I gone in a sandpapered it off the stall walls in Silverton. He talked about it for months. I finally gave up, drove to Silverton, stuck some sandpaper in my purse, snuck into the restroom, and sandpapered it off only so I didn't have to hear about it anymore. I didn't tell anyone I had done it. I was so embarrassed. I guess I needed to read the writing on the wall. Metaphorically. I told Jay-Z the only confusion was him, I have been fantastic. Do what you want. I just wish if he wasn't going to come he didn't make sure a big dramatic production of it. I'm coming, I'm not, I'm confused. I want to but I just don't know. I probably shouldn't. I was wrapped up in bullshit texts for an hour or more and then by the end so frazzled, confused, and LSE (low self esteem), that I didn't even want to be at my party. I tried to pretend. To be happy and I was for the rest of the night. Then everyone left and I lay on the couch with Mya. Rivers of tears. My heart hurts so bad I can't breathe. I pray for relief. For breath and strength. My lungs rushed full of air and lay there for a few more minutes. I realized even though I have been so mistreated this year. Even though people continue to wound my heart, I am still loving others. All I wanted was to bring joy and support to those closest to me. Christina and I spend more time together than her and her husband. I want her to feel comfortable and supported by me. To trust me. To respect me. I stood up and went to the kitchen. A former good friend told me once to proceed with the next intended thing. I told him what if I don't know what that is? He said just do what's next. So I packed up all the crackers and chips. And surveyed the wreckage and realized. This house shows love. The food was eaten. There were cups and bottles everywhere. Mya was asleep on the couch. The house smells of cookies and meatballs. I thought to myself, there is still love here. I am still loved. Even if Jay-Z doesn't, or Boston doesn't, or G doesn't, or Buzz never did, I am loved. Mya is loved. We have friends and family who want to see us. My sister and my niece stopped by and I was telling them what happened and tears sprang to my eyes. My fourteen year old niece said he doesn't deserve you. He may not, but I still want him to. My head hurts and my eyes are swollen from crying. It's time for the next intended thing, rest.