Had the worst conversation today with my cousin. My sixty-something year old cousin at that. It was all “You should go out more. I have more of a social life than you do. What you need is a boyfriend. Why don’t you have a boyfriend?”

Why don’t I have a boyfriend? Because he thought we would be better off with friendship. I don’t have a boyfriend because the one guy who made me want to be a girlfriend didn’t want me. That’s why!  

Oh, but if I’m lucky, I’ll get a boyfriend like she has, when I’m in my sixties too.

Gee, thanks.

Just things I never had the chance to say to A. ::

I wanted  you to know – leaving your bed was never my favourite thing. And it was never the easiest thing either (in fact I hated it!) But I couldn’t stay – especially when the boys were there. Random naked chick in the morning would not have been fair to them.

Every time I went to see you it was like jumping off a cliff – but I was always so comfortable once I landed. That was the deceiving part. I should have taken the warning that came with the fear. But it just felt so good to be around you. I always felt so comfortable and so safe when I was with you. Like nothing else mattered – not all the commentary from everyone else.

You were inside me without a condom but felt no connection like that? That’s sick. Almost as sick as how tightly you held me. And how comfortable you said you were, and how you said you didn’t want to let go. Congratulations on all the firsts you had with this naive blonde girl. On all the firsts that she gave up to you so willingly

I still don’t understand how or why you came back so many times when you didn’t have any connection. The sex was not worth it! You had more lovers in the last year than I ever had. Did I somehow make you feel better? Did I make you feel wanted and cared about? Is that why you let me curl up around you, why you blew me kisses and why you called me your girl? Is that why you gave that little speech to Jen? Or why you worked so hard to pleasure me?

I accept that it’s over. Whatever we were doing is over and done. But I still cry over it. I always knew it was nothing serious, nothing with a future. I only wanted a lover for the summer. I wanted you; no complications, no commitment, no travelling, no expectations. Just a little time, and fun. And I wanted to spend it with you. but I don't get to, and I miss it. You.

It seems so damn fitting...

Lord's Prayer

Dear God please don't fuck me on this one
cause me heart is getting colder
nights are getting older
and I have always known that he is the one
So God please don't fuck me one this one

The path was a little shady
and I haven't always been a lady
But I gave my heart and soul
intentions pure as gold
but he still felt he had to go so

Dear God please don't fuck me on this one
cause me heart is getting colder
nights are getting older
and I have always known that he is the one
So God please don't fuck me one this one

yeeewhoo

The path was a little shady
and I haven't always been a lady
But I gave my heart and soul
intentions pure as gold
but he still felt he had to go so

Dear God please don't fuck me on this one
cause me heart is getting colder
nights are getting older
and I have always known that he is the one
So God please don't fuck me one this one

So God please don't fuck me on this one

So God please don't fuck me on this one

At least I got to know a new band from him.. that's something, right? But I REALLY need something new in my MP3 player now that I'm not in his bed..

But he wants to know if I want to still be friends.

How? How do you be just friends with someone once they’ve held you the way he held me? With tight arms and naked limbs. When he told me he didn’t want to let me go. How, when I can still feel his breath on my neck and over my ear? How do I turn all that off? How do I forget that?

How is it fair – it took us a year to see each other again and a month to work it out. How is it fair to have it just be over like that?

You’re engaged – or engaged to be engaged, promised to, whichever – and that’s great. That’s fantastic, amazing news. For you. That’s where you are in your life. And I honestly am happy for you – you’re my best friend.

But... oh, but, that’s not me.

I understand that you don’t want me to get hurt, and you don’t want me to “waste my prime years” but there are a lot of differences between me and you. For one, you know you want the shiny ring and vows, I don’t. At this point, I see my future differently, and as I’ve said, I see it a long way down the line yet. And please remember that while you’ve had a string of boyfriends and short relationships that brought you to who you’re with now, I haven’t. I didn’t date boys, or live with anyone. I went and finished my education, I didn’t stop and take the time for companionship. So, as spending time and energy with A might seem like a waste to you, it doesn’t to me. It’s learning. It’s experiencing. And if I’m lucky, it’s enjoying. It could last a while, or it could already be over. Who knows? But it’s something that I want and what I need right now.

But, what I do know is that you’ll support me with any choices or mistakes I make here. Just respect that I’m not the same as you. And I’m not in that same place.

Isn't it funny when a song seems to fit a situation so very, very well...

Sondre Lerche and Regina Spektor - Hell No

I know I was out of line
you were way out of your mind
wrapped up in my reveries
causing all this misery

hear me out
if ever there's a chance in heaven (or in hell)
to slowly forget the past and the bandage

be careful you fool, there are certain rules
even for a fellow like you
but don't be alarmed, no one gets harmed
I will never go, babe, hell no

maybe I was in the dark
but why'd you have to steal my heart?
well, I didn't plan to go berserk
baby, you were such a jerk

well just hear me out
I can't believe the things I said (i know!)
I obviously was removed from my senses

be careful you fool, there are certain rules
even for a fellow like you
but don't be alarmed, no one gets harmed
I will never go, babe, hell no

now hear me out
if ever you decieve me (if ever, ever?)
we're through
you worry too much, I won't make you sorry

be careful you fool, there are certain rules
even for a fellow I know
but don't be alarmed, no one gets harmed
I will never go, babe, hell no

be careful you fool (don't be alarmed)
there are certain rules (cause I know that)
I will never go, babe, hell no


Also though, a really good song. I rec Sondre Lerche and the Dan in Real Life soundtrack.

Thank you Mr. Self-righteous, (Christopher @ findmefishin@hotmail.com if anyone is interested)! I always take a hit from a man as a challenge, never a beating – and this time I’m talking verbally.

Not sure what set you off. Was it my honesty, my sexuality? Were you scared, intimated or aroused? Or maybe it was a little of all of the above that lead you to call me a dirty whore – then come back 13 hours later with an apology. (Despite the fact that you knew about my history for two weeks before your freak out, and had said it was okay...)

Yes. I slept with a married man. Yes. I engaged in an emotional affair with him afterwards. But no. I don’t regret it. A mistake, maybe. But it was mine. And you really have no right to cast judgement on me, or hurl your verbal abuses.

My mother has a tendency to randomly play peek-a-boo with children on the bus. Her eyes light up, and she plays the “hello” game and generally acts like a big child herself. And I was struck with wondering “Do I owe her grandchildren?” I am getting older, and my mother isn’t that young anymore...  But at the same time that that thought struck me, I was hit with resentment. Owe it to her? What about me? What part of my life is mine? Any free time I have is divided among other responsibilities – if I’m not at work, I’m basically at the nursing home. Or I feel the need to keep my mother company. I’m frustrated and anxious at the fact that my weekends are dictated before I have a chance to make any kind of plans, to have any kind of life.

And then I feel guilty. How can I be resentful? This woman raised me on her own. She gave up her life to take care of me...so maybe that’s what I’m supposed to do.

No one should have to endure false declarations of love. It’s just cruel. And I don’t mean the sickly, sweaty and sweet desperations that are used to get someone out of their pants – though, of course, those are mean also. But I’m referring to the ones where no immediate gratification is the goal. In facet, where no goal is obvious. Moments of unexpected and almost sweet “affection” where the L.O.V.E. word is declared as some selfless gift being offered. Even  sometimes it’s stated that said affection doesn’t have to be claimed, or returned; it just IS and had to be brought to light.

Could almost feel warm and fuzzy about it. Almost be wrapped in its safety and strength. Almost.

But never quite.

It’s false, conditional, a facade. Easily swept up and discarded, like used chewing gum – there’s always a residue there, but you can only see it if you knew that the gum was once stuck there. No. They say it, for whatever reason, but it’s not touchable or expandable. It’s not never friendly, this “love”.

You might even consider it. Maybe even become comfortable with it – but it’s gone. It was never really there in the first place.

Slapped around by all these false declarations, how is one supposed to recognise the real from the fakes? How long before you stop even considering? Maybe it’s all lies and mirrors, and other people are just better pretenders.

I’ve always followed the “Three Strikes” rule when it comes to men in my life. They break three rules, hurt me three times, or use up three chances and I cut them out of my life.

That is, all but one.

All but the one who has been hurting, injuring and generally damaging me for longer than I can remember. One, where my relationship with him has been tainting every and all relationship since. That one is my father.

The constant games of “there and gone”, the inability to maintain contact, the very skewed version of affection (bought and paid for with every and any shiny thing) and my scrambling for the scraps that he’d leave me. And this pattern has continued – my mad, desperate attempts to hold on to the ones I want, the moment they share a shred with me, my fear of accepting affection because it means they’ll just leave anyway (Hell, he did it, does it, and he’s supposed to love me...) and the fact that I simply don’t feel worthy of accepting affection.

So, I think it might be time to cut that one out of my life. Once and for all. I’ve twenty-six, and I don’t think I need to be vying for daddy’s love for the rest of my life. Okay, fine, the one man who in all of the world is biologically ment to love me, doesn’t. Or at least has no idea or interest in expressing that. Fine. I can’t keep fighting for it, and getting nowhere. I can’t keep letting that failed relationship bring down everything else I get involved with. I really have to let him go, and try to heal enough to become capable of something normal.

Dad... I give up on you.