Nobody But Me

A few weeks ago, as I was thinking of writing this, I was sitting on a beach near Lakeview, looking out at a handful of little kids, who were making sand castles, splashing in the water and having fun as only children can on the last weekend of summer vacation. It was bright and warm like summer days should be, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. The days leading up to this one were almost unbearably hot (you know, for Canada anyways) but this day it was a touch cooler, as if it was a subtle reminder of summer’s finality and the weather that is just around the corner waiting for us. This actually suited me quite well, because even though I enjoy a hot summer day as much as the next person, a cool day at the beach meant that I could relax in the sun without sweat pooling in my ass crack. 

If that paragraph sounds at all familiar, then clearly you have been to this blog before as you may recognize it from my last post from almost three months ago. I will often plagiarize myself when I’m finding it difficult to come up with new things to write. I would just repost what I wrote three months ago, but thankfully, things have changed just enough that I can rewrite the rest. 

See, this time around, a good few months since I wrote the first bit, as I was sitting on that same beach my mind not once wandered to anything Kevin related like it had before. I looked out at the people on their floaties and only thought of how much fun it would be to have a pizza shaped one like one of the teenagers out there had. When I was in the (fucking freezing) cold water and saw the boats out in the distance drive by I thought only of how cold I was going to be in a moment when the waves that those boats created hit me and splashed up over my tits, whose nipples already had the ability to cut glass. And when I looked at the yacht club, I still thought of how fucking ridiculous it is for there to be a yacht club at this beach, but I also thought about how nice it would be to own one of the pontoon boats (or as the fancy people here like to call them, yachts) that was parked in the marina. But not even once did my brain think of these things in relation to Kevin.

This is probably because this time, sitting next to me on my beach blanket was a beautiful, kind hearted, sweet, caring, funny, intelligent man who for whatever reason had decided he liked me enough to call me his girlfriend. I’m still a little fuzzy on why he likes me; he seems to not care so much about the baggage that I have definitely brought with me into this relationship, and in fact, he seems perfectly ok with helping me carry this baggage. So there I sat, on my beach blanket, in the warm sun with a cool breeze, next to this half naked man whose dark chocolate skin glistened with sweat and lake water in the sun rays. We talked, he told me about his family back home, we swam, I froze, we snacked and relaxed and he even got mistaken for a football player (because apparently, in Lakeview, if you are black, you of course are a football player, so between this and the ridiculous “Yacht Club”, I see how cartoonish the place I live in is). 

We met at the beginning of August. It wasn’t in anyway an earth shattering exchange really. He messaged me online, and seemed far more normal than most guys that had been lately. Our first date was simple, we met at a Boston Pizza, which for those of you who are unfamiliar, is the sit-down restaurant equivalent of a McDonald’s in that there are no less than three of these restaurants in any given city, at least in my province anyways. We chatted, got to know one another, and then said our goodbyes and that was it. We met up a few more times, and had been seeing eachother every couple of days before we decided to be exclusive, and that seems to be that. 

It’s not that this new boyfriend has made me forget or not care about the past. I would never naively believe that that would ever be the case. I still think about Kevin from time to time, against my best attempts not to. And I still absentmindedly bring him up in conversation, in a “well when Kevin and I lived together…” or “when Kevin and I were booking our trip to Cuba…” kind of way. He was a huge part of my life for a while there, so while I try to do my best to suppress the Kevin-ing, it tends to raise its ugly head from time to time.

Things are thankfully getting better. I’m glad I found this new man, and hope things will work between us. So far our biggest issue is that we want to spend more time together and are finding it hard to balance our lives in a way that we can see each other several times a week, so I’m taking that to be a good sign. 
I guess only time will tell. All I can do is hope the best, work for what I want and bundle the fuck up, because that summer beach day has long since gone, the leaves are already half off the trees here, and winter is definitely closer than I’d like to believe it is. Fuck. Wish me luck. On all those things.

Olivia

Advertisements

Basket Case

Well hello long lost blueberries.  It’s been far too long.  I had good reason for it though.  I went a little nuts.  Well, not actually, but it sure felt like I did.  In reality, what I was really busy with was various work things, and my new boyfriend.  If you follow me on Twitter you already knew this information about the new boyfriend (if you don’t follow me on the Twitter machine how in the fucking hell did you find me here?!?) If you somehow don’t follow me, I have some interesting news for you: I have a new boyfriend.  And not an imaginary one, nor am I jumping the gun and assuming a relationship exists with someone who doesn’t feel the same.  We both know and agree that we are in a relationship with one another. However if you follow me on Twitter, you’d also know that even though I’m back in a relationship, it certainly doesn’t mean that I’m any more confident in this one than I was in the last one.  In fact, in the 7 months that I have been single, I seem to have forgotten all that I once knew about the whole being someone’s girlfriend thing.

But before I get into the whole “I suck at dating thing” I will tell you about the guy first.  His name is Mark.  He’s 34, will be 35 later this year.  He’s a flight attendant who flies all over Canada, and to the States on occasion. He is cute as hell, he makes me laugh, he says what he thinks, he’s a total goof ball, and he’s a complete sweet heart.  He wants to get married and have kids.  In essence, he’s pretty much everything I am looking for.  We met at the end of April, and right away I liked him.  After our second date I knew I wanted to be his girlfriend.  And that was before we had even kissed. It didn’t take him long to get to that same conclusion too.  About 2 days after our second date, I got a text from him asking me if I’d be his girlfriend.  Now, I know that you judgmental fuckers out there are probably thinking, “What the hell? He asked via text?!” to which I will tell you that he was out of the country at the time, and couldn’t wait to see me in person to ask me.  If you ask me that is cute as hell.

I, of course said yes.  I liked the guy, and who the hell was I to turn down an offer like that from a good guy I actually liked?  However, because I’m still me, panic immediately set in.  It was too fast.  We didn’t really know each other.  I jumped into things just as fast with Kevin and look where that got me. And I hadn’t even kissed him yet, let alone anything else. What if we didn’t have any sexual chemistry?  In a matter of 5 minutes, I went from being downright giddy that I had gotten myself an awesome new boyfriend, to being a panicked mess, wondering if I had made a huge mistake. But then I saw him later that week, and remembered why I said yes to dating him in the first place. Never mind the fact that the kisses turned out to be pretty damn good and I had nothing to worry about in the sexual chemistry department.  We have sexual chemistry in spades.  And it was so nice to wake up next to him.  I forgot how much I missed that part of it.

I wish I could say that all that was the end of the freak out, but what I didn’t realize at the time was that it was actually only the beginning of the freaking out.  Why you ask?  Well, because of his job.  Now, as I mentioned earlier, he is a flight attendant.  This means that he flies all over the place for his work.  He technically lives in Lakeview, and has lived there his whole life, but the airport that he is based out of is in another city, about 750ish kilometers away in another province.  Because of this, he doesn’t get back to Lakeview very often. In the 6 weeks or so since our first date, I have seen him a whopping 4 times.  Remind you guys of anyone?  Cause I know it sure reminds me of someone.  Someone by the name of Kevin.  Thus, the panic attacks.

Of all the things that have been super hard about coming to terms with my break up with Kevin, the hardest is remembering that what happened with him will not be what happens with every man, and that I need to drop what is left of that baggage if I ever want things to work out with someone else. Sure, this situation may be eerily similar to the situation with Kevin, but it isn’t the same. They are two very different men.  I’m just having a harder time with it because these first few weeks with Mark have been a lot like the last few weeks with Kevin were.  That is an awfully dreadful situation to start a relationship in, and the root of that problem is that I hadn’t come to terms with the issues left behind from Kevin.  Fucking figures that I’d be single for 7 months without actually dealing with the baggage I had.  Leave it to me to bring all that shit into this new relationship, using it as a reason to maybe not be with Mark.

Luckily, I didn’t jump the gun on anything.  After talking things out with Lucy and Annie (thanks ladies BTW) and escaping the city for a weekend to my brother’s cabin at the lake to snuggle my niece, chat the days away with my sister-in-law and get my drink and hot tubbing on, I came to the conclusion that I can’t end the relationship just because it feels so similar to life with Kevin. Ending a new relationship because of what happened in the old one is bat shit crazy. Mark and I are going to have a different relationship one way or another, because Mark is a much different man. And yes, I’m still me, but my relationship with Kevin, and the breakup of that relationship changed me in a way I can’t really explain.  For better or for worse I am different now, so I need to give this thing between Mark and me its due, even if it turns out in the long run to be doomed.   And who knows, maybe in the long run we’ll not only be able to survive a long distance relationship, but will be that rare instance where it’s been built on it.

I guess only time will tell.  In the meantime, I’m sure you guys will get some interesting tweets and posts out of me while I continue to lose my shit and find my way.

Consider yourselves warned.

Olivia

 

 

Drop in the Ocean

I think I’m dating wrong.  I have been in the dating sea for years, a good decade or so, and have yet to find the elusive ship of relations.  (FYI, this post might be full of bad nautical puns – you’ve been warned) I have just been floating along on my life raft of loneliness, sometimes getting nibbles of whatever I can get my hands on to give me sustenance for a little while longer so I don’t have to resort to throwing myself overboard and just calling it quits.  Now, I have been rescued before.  The S.S. Kevin saved me for a while, till there was a mutiny on the ship, and I was forced to walk the plank. Years before that I took a very short trip on the S.S. Dave #4, which sank shortly thereafter (as did the first 3 S.S. Daves; you’d think I would have learnt my lesson and bought a ticket with a different ship name).  But here I still am, floating on my life raft of loneliness, fast approaching my 31st year on this planet, and wondering if I should keep sailing to find that ship of mine, or if I should just come to terms with the fact that there may not actually be a ship out there for me, and that I might be better off to find land on my own, and forge a new path by myself.

All of this is just a super long winded way of saying that my love life has become rather stagnant lately.  Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been chatting with a handful of prospects, and a couple of them have been better than others, but nothing worth really writing about lately.  I met one guy that I liked a little over a month ago but he didn’t feel the same way about me, so that was close to something.  But, as it always is with me, it went nowhere.  There is a new guy I have been hanging out with this past week who I like (the one I’ve tweeted about for the 2 of you who read this and follow me on Twitter) but I’m not really sure if I actually like him.  He’s a great guy, we have a ton in common, but I don’t feel excited or nervous to see him.  I feel like I’m just going through the motions of dating.  Is there actually such a thing as having a spark with someone? I know I’ve had it with guys in the past, but was I just reacting to something else?  Or is the fact that I don’t feel the “spark” or whatever a sign that I’m not really into him, so I probably shouldn’t lead him on?

I think part of the problem with me is that I can’t seem to shake all these other guys, mostly ones from my past, which keeps coming back into my life.  These guys pop out of nowhere, like a popup book from hell just to fuck with my brain and prevent me from making rational, sane decisions.

The first in a 4 part gong show: Erik.  Of course Erik rears his head in a time like this.  I think I mentioned a post or two ago that he was back in the picture, texting and snap chatting me on occasion.  We had even had that random dinner date when I was still seeing Max.  But Erik always has and always will come and go in and out of my life as he pleases.  I know this.  And I let him, against my better judgement.  But I have to admit that I like the attention.  I like hanging out with him once in awhile, because we honestly do have fun together.  And he is good for a quick (albeit not great quality) lay once in awhile too.  So that’s the purpose of Erik.  To use me as much as I use him.

The second part in this gong show is Shamus.  Remember him?  I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t; he disappeared out of my life shortly after I moved from Riverview to Lakeview.  I’ve heard from him maybe three times since I moved and for a moment that first year I was here, I thought maybe we’d get together to hook up, but it never happened.  But all of a sudden, out of the blue about 2 weeks ago or so, I started hearing from him again.  Since then every few days he texts me.  The conversations never last long, but I find it both weird and awesome that he’s contacting me again.  Out of all the guys I dated back in Riverview, he was that one guy that I regretted not sleeping with when I had the chance.  There was so much potential there.  He would be the perfect Random Hook-Up Guy if he lived here.  Oh well.

The third part in the gong show is Married Twatwaffle, previously known as Soccer Boy.  This is a story and a half really, but I will try to make it as short and sweet as possible.  We met, hooked up a couple times, it went nowhere, we moved on.  I met Kevin, and during that time, Soccer Boy got married and got his wife pregnant.  But, that didn’t stop SB from messaging me on Facebook messenger periodically, trying to flirt with me.  Each time I heard from him, I had to tell him that flirting with me was not ok, because I had a boyfriend that I loved, and he was fricken married.  After that I would go another 6 – 10 months without hearing from him.  So it’s no surprise that after Kevin and I broke up, that I started to hear from him again.  At first his messages were friendly (which is why I gave him my cell number so we didn’t have to Facebook message) but then, they continued to get more and more inappropriate. So this is the conversation I eventually had to have with him.

   

  

 

 So needless to say after all that that he is a total dick bag.  I mean really, what does he think would happen if he and his wife split up and I started dating him? Does he think that I’d ever trust him when I know full well how he treated his WIFE?  Fuck that.  I know better.  And I was never interested in him enough even 3 years ago to overlook that glaring evidence of sheer douchebaggery.

The fourth and final part is Scooter.  He and I never did end up meeting, because not long after we started talking I met Kevin, and the rest as they say is history, but we have kept fairly decent contact since.  We followed each other on Twitter, in the meantime, but there was no actual contact during the Kevin of it all.  After Kevin though, our tweets back and forth became fairly regular, and eventually turned into DM chatting which has now evolved into the Snapchat game.  But we still haven’t met.  Partly because I don’t actually think he’s interested in me like that, and also because I’m too much of a chicken shit to actually tell him, “Hey, it’s been 2 fucking years.  It’s time we meet and figure this out one way or another.”  So for now I will just do the snap chat thing and hope that one day one of the two of us grows the balls to suggest meeting.

It looks like I am forever doomed to be floating on the life raft loneliness.  Because if the links to those posts have taught any of us anything, it’s that I haven’t learnt a fucking thing in the last 3 years.

Olivia

 

 

Welcome to the Meat Market

Have you ever felt a bit like a pizza?  Like someone ordered you up, in a certain way, in order to fill one purpose and one purpose only: to satiate a hunger?  If not then you probably are not dating. Lucky you.

Online dating is a bit like ordering a pizza online.  Sure, there are lots of different sites to go to find that pizza you are wanting, and you can try going through the list of qualities you look for in a pizza, and pick out exactly what you want, but you can never be certain that the pizza that knocks on your door will be the one you want to spend your life with.  Or something like that.  Now I’m hungry, and not quite sure what I was getting at here.

Oh yeah, dating.  That’s it.  Lately, I have been the one who has been ordered up it seems by people I would least expect.  I am the pizza.  The problem with being the pizza, is that I can’t control who wants to order me, and what their reasons are for it.  I’m going to get off the pizza thing, because it’s starting to get weird, but what I’m trying to say is that lately, dudes from my past have been coming around, only wanting me to fill their hunger for sex, not their hunger to have a partner for the rest of their lives, and I’m wondering why the fuck that is.

Kevin, who I talked a bit about last week, is one of them.  I can never tell if he just misses me as a person, or as his partner, or just misses having a girlfriend in general, or if he misses me because he is horny, and I’m no longer there to satisfy that need for him anymore.  If I had to guess, I’d say it’s the latter, just because when he contacts me, he doesn’t tell me about how he misses me as a person.  Ever.  He tells me how he misses having someone in the house, or someone to spend time with all the time, and of course, he misses the sex.  But he has never said that he misses my laugh, or that he misses the conversations we had, that he misses my sense of humor, or the person I was when I was with him.  But he misses having sex with me.  That seems to be the only thing he misses about me. Or at least, it’s the only thing he misses about me that he has verbalized the most frequently anyways.

This past week I got another blast from the past in a big way. Friend Zone, who after a bit of thought I have decided to rename him Marty, because over the last few weeks I have grown increasingly frustrated with the concept of the dreaded friend zone, and the negative connotations it has against women, but that topic could (and probably will) be its own post down the road. Anyways, Marty for those who don’t remember was a guy I had met online almost 4 years ago when I still lived in Riverview, we went out a couple of times, and while he was an amazing guy, despite my best efforts to force myself to like him, I did not.  The shitty thing was that he really liked me, so I inevitably had to hurt him by placing him as gently as I could into the friend zone.  I also made the horrendous mistake of drunkenly sleeping with him on one of my last nights before moving to Lakeview.  Since I moved here we have seen each other a couple of times shortly after I moved, but I haven’t heard from him since before I met Kevin. Of course now that Kevin is out of the picture, all these guys are coming back out of the woodworks for me.

So I heard from Marty a couple of weeks ago, just to chat, and see how things were going.  It was all very normal, it was all very civil, and most importantly, it was all G rated.  Then I heard from him again this past weekend.  And it quickly turned from just regular chatting, to him talking about wanting to have sex with me real quick.  This is how the conversation went:

FullSizeRender

 

I felt like I was trying my best to not encourage him, while still remaining civil.

 

FullSizeRender (1)

 

Trying even harder to let him know I wasn’t interested in talking about this, without being a bitch.

 

FullSizeRender (2)

 

 

But then, he said that he wanted me to know I’m still desired.  And a part of me wanted to snap.  I mean, yes, thanks.  But I know I am desired.  I know that guys want to fuck me; I know that guys want to date me.  I’m not alone because nobody wants me; I am currently alone because the right person isn’t here to want me yet.  Since I broke up with Kevin there have been a couple guys that I could have dated just for the sake of not being single anymore.  But I have never been, nor will I ever be that kind of girl.  So I sent this message, and left that be that.

I don’t know guys, I’m not sure what else to do.  I don’t know how long I can do this for.  There isn’t even much more to say really.  I’m just so discouraged by everything.  And the worst part is, I don’t even have pizza here right now to cheer me up.

Olivia

Another One Bites the Dust

“Knowing my luck in this department, I will be all kinds of alone again by Valentine’s Day.”

 

I am such a wise woman.  Or maybe I’m a psychic and I don’t even know it.  Or maybe I’m a pessimistic asshole who will always give herself depressing self-fulfilling prophecies.  Or maybe, just maybe, I know myself and the state of my dating life too well.

In any case, the truth of the matter is that Max and I are done.  We didn’t really have much to begin with, but he served a purpose.  At the very least he served as a good distraction, a reason to get dolled up, my ass off the couch, and out the door.  At the very most he was a reminder to me that Kevin is not the only guy out there who will ever be interested in me.  At the heart of it, Max was exactly what I needed him to be in the moment: a rebound.

Of course, that didn’t save me from being hurt just a little bit when a couple of weeks ago he had “the talk” with me.  He finally brought it up, which in a lot of ways was a relief, although I knew immediately that I was ultimately not going to be so thrilled with the outcome of the discussion.  He told me that he did really like me, that I was really awesome, and that he really liked how calm and non-crazy I seemed to be about everything (proof that he never read this blog).  He said he thinks I am a super cool girl, and that we have amazing chemistry, both sexually and otherwise.  However, with all the awesome that he thinks I am (which I am fucking awesome) he said that he doesn’t often think about me when we aren’t together, that he isn’t ever dying to see me, and at the end of the day, he doesn’t think that we should be in a relationship together (womp, womp).  So, there in his house, we sat on his couch, and agreed that for now we keep things as is.  Status quo and whatnot.  Which in the moment, there on his couch, I was fine with.

After all, I still was messed up over Kevin, I didn’t know what the fuck was going on with Erik, and I was still talking to a few other guys online.  Was I really in the position to get back into a relationship with someone?  No.  I didn’t think so.  So I did what any girl in my position would do.  I agreed to continue with this same dating scenario, had great sex with him, then went on my merry way.

But when I left his house, I felt different.  I didn’t have the euphoria that I usually felt when leaving his place after one of our dates.  I felt, I don’t know, empty I guess.  I felt like while he said he wanted nothing to change, I felt as if everything had.  He had essentially just friends with benefits zoned me.  Another guy that I liked had told me to my face that he didn’t like me enough to be my boyfriend.  I think I would have cried in the moment had I really realized what had happened.  In the moment I think my brain was instinctively protecting my already broken heart, kindly shutting off that part of my brain that would register what was actually happening.

After that I tried to be ok with the status quo.  But after that night, I barely heard from Max, and within a week, I hadn’t heard from him at all.  This radio silence meant one of three things: 1) He was dead.  2) He was in a coma.  Or the most likely one, 3) Having “the talk” and telling me that he liked me but doesn’t want to be my boyfriend and then ghosting the fuck out on me was his way of letting me down as gently as he could, while trying not to come off as an asshole.

Guys, let me tell you something: IT’S OKAY TO LOOK LIKE AN ASSHOLE FROM TIME TO TIME.  You fuckers telling us some bullshit about how you still want to spend time with us and then ghosting out on us doesn’t make you any less of an asshole. In fact, we think you are even bigger assholes, and we also think you are fucking cowards for not telling us the truth.   If Max would have just told me that he didn’t want to hang out anymore, would that have sucked? Yes.  But would I at least respect him a little more for telling me the truth, not leaving me wonder what the fuck happened, because he decided to have a pair of fucking balls? Absolutely.

So, I did the only thing I could.  I sent him a simple text saying that I have a feeling he isn’t interested anymore, so I’m giving him his space.  I told him that if he ever wanted to see me or talk to me again, that he knew where to find me, and I told him to take care.  That was a week ago, and I haven’t heard a single peep since.  Oh well.  C’est la vie I guess.  I wasn’t expecting him to be the one, I just liked him.  But looking back he served his purpose.  He helped me see the light after the darkness with Kevin, and for that I will always be thankful.

I was not however thankful for the absolute fuck show that last Wednesday turned into.  After I sent that message to Max, I got a text from Kevin.  Kevin it seems has a delightful knack of contacting me when I least expect it, and knocking me on my fucking ass.  By this time it was already 9pm, and to be honest, I had been an emotional basket case the whole day, because of the stuff with Max.  So when Kevin messaged me, at first just to chat, but then soon turned into him telling me he misses me, and wanted to see me, I was past the point of basket case.  At that point I was fucked right up.  Against my better judgment, I agreed to see him.  He came to pick me up and we went for a drive to talk.  This talk ended up just making me more confused.  Kevin cares for me, and some days he wants me back, other days he thinks that us being apart is the right thing.  And here I am in the middle of it all, not knowing what the fuck to think, how to feel, what to do. It’s been a week since that happened, and I still don’t know.

All I know is that I have to keep going.  I have to keep living any way I can, I have to keep dating, I have to keep kissing all these fucking frogs, hoping to find my prince.

I just wish it wasn’t such an incredible fuck show to find him.

Olivia

Three Of A Kind

Men are a bit like a deck of cards.  You have your number cards, the 2’s through 10’s, the ones who you usually rely on to add up to something you need, even if they aren’t the best cards in the deck, you know they serve a purpose depending what game you play.  Then you have the Jack, the one who is so close to perfect, but you just can’t figure out how exactly to use him.  After that comes the King.  He’s arguably the best one.  He’s the one that in the game of life usually equals a winning hand.  Together with the queen (you are the queen of course) there is no game you can lose, especially if you are working together.  Sure, there is the Ace, which sometimes will trump the king, but that guy is so fickle, he’s perfect, almost too perfect, and you can never tell whether he’s going to be better than the king you have in your hand, or if he’s going to resort to being the lowest of them all.  And we can’t forget about the wild card – the Joker – who always seems to show up when you least expect him to, just to throw a wrench into things. Sometimes his presence is exciting, and you are so happy to have pulled that guy from the deck.  Other times, seeing him is just a stark reminder that you lose.

Now, I don’t know much about cards (in case you couldn’t tell from that previous paragraph) and I couldn’t win a poker game to save my life, due to the fact that I suck at card games and have no poker face.  But I do know a game I’m losing when I see one.

Right now I have a hand full of cards that I have no idea how to use to win the game.  I can’t tell the kings from the jacks, the 6’s from the 9’s, but I do have a joker in there, although I have absolutely no idea how he fits into this hand anymore.  In essence, this is just a longwinded way of tell you guys that I am fucked.

Since I don’t know exactly where to start, I guess I will just start with that Joker I’ve got.  A joker by the name of Erik.  Erik has always been the wildcard.  For as long as I’ve known him (which believe it or not has been a whopping ten motherfucking years already!) he’s been ridiculously unpredictable.  I never know when I’m going to hear from him, or when he’s going to pop out of nowhere. His presence always takes me by surprise.  With the exception of after a break up.  He’s fairly consistent with that.  When I broke up with Dave #4 a few years back, I started to hear from him regularly, and that break up directly resulted in me and Erik hooking up and becoming the epic FWB pair that has become this blog’s bread and butter.  So I was not surprised even the slightest when within two weeks of breaking up with Kevin, I started getting texts and Twitter DM’s from Erik, seeing how I was doing.  Over the last 4 months I consistently hear from Erik in one way, shape or form.  Including on New Year’s Eve, when he not-so-subtly brought up the idea of some long overdue benefits.  Since then, the random texts I get from him take a turn that way more often than not.  A couple of weeks ago, he texted me and things took that turn quicker than before.  Not only did they take a turn faster, but they also ended with something we hadn’t made in well over 2 years – plans to meet up.

I made these plans, but fully expected for the date to come and go without anything happening.  I have known Erik long enough to know that he has zero follow through, so I was expecting him to either forget that we had made plans, or to have had some else come up, or both.  So I was pretty surprised when I texted him the day before we were supposed to meet up, and he had not only remembered, but was going to follow through with the plans we had made the week before.  So we made plans to go to one of the most overpriced restaurants in the city (his idea, not mine, as I am poor as fuck, and ended up regretting adding the 10 dollar grilled chicken onto my 12 dollar Caesar salad) Before I got there, I wasn’t sure what was really going to happen.  From our texts a few weeks ago, I had the feeling that there was a chance that he was going to invite me back to his place, where all hell could break loose.  And I honestly wasn’t sure whether I wanted to do that or not.  The one part of my brain was screaming at me that nothing should happen, because Erik is so not to be trusted in that department, and hello! aren’t you dating Max?  But the other part of my brain was telling me that I am in fact a free woman until Max and I choose otherwise (although is there a certain point when you are dating someone when you are safe to assume that you probably shouldn’t be sleeping with other people, or is everything fair game until it is verbally agreed upon that you are monogamous?) and seeing as though I am still single, I shouldn’t feel guilty for hooking up with someone else.

At the end of it, it was all a moot point anyways, because as I was texting Erik to let him know that I was on my way to meet him, he accidently sent me a text that was meant for someone else, making plans with that someone later that night, the time of which depending on how long we were out for supper together.  Ah, classic Erik.  It’s nice to know that some things never change.  So I met up with him, we ate overpriced, overrated food; we chatted, had a handful of awkward silences, split the bill, and went our separate ways.  The night almost took a turn when we were saying goodbye, as we went in for a hug, he seemed like he was possibly going to kiss me, but I didn’t realize this in the moment, so I continued to go in for a hug as his kiss awkwardly hit my cheek.  We agreed to keep in touch, and that was that.  Or so I thought.

The next night, I had plans with Max.  It was the first time in almost three weeks that I had been able to make plans with him, as he was gone on a trip for a week, but I was starting to lose hope in the fact that he was still interested.  I have been trying not to text too much, to seem too eager, which I’m now wondering if it’s coming off as if I’m not interested anymore.  But he messaged me first, and wanted to make plans so I was happy about this.  We decided to go out for some pizza.  We decided to go to a place in town that has a good reputation for good pizza that neither of us had been to before.  Seemed like a great idea.  When I got to Max’s, I realized three things.  A) That I had actually missed him a little bit when he was gone B) that I was incredibly glad that nothing happened between Erik and I and C) that both of these things combined mean that I like this guy – a lot.

We chatted the whole way to the restaurant; everything was so easy that way with him.  We walked into this restaurant that was new to both us, and as we entered the hostess area, someone in the dining area caught my eye – Erik.  Yup.  Motherfucking Erik.  Now, this town is small by most accounts, but it is big enough that I have never, NEVER ran into anyone I’ve dated or slept with like this.  Not once. So not only is he there, but the hostess is seating Max and I at a table right next to him.  Luckily I saw him before he saw me, so I did some of my best acting, in pretending to be checking out the restaurant instead of catching his attention.  As I walked past his table to get to my seat, I heard him say my name.  I then proceeded to act surprised to see him.  I said a quick hello, and then sat down next to Max (I’m preparing my Oscar acceptance speech right now in my head for this performance).  Thankfully Erik didn’t stay much longer, him and the group he was with left about 20 minutes later, but in that 20 minutes I had to force myself to keep all my attention on Max and Max only.  Not only because I didn’t want to be rude to Max, but also because I wanted Erik to see that I’ve got other prospects.  I don’t want him to think that he is the only guy I have in my life.  He doesn’t need that kind of power.  Especially since he is always the one to go out of his way to contact me and be in my life, not the other way around, so perhaps I have a stronger hold on him than he either realizes or cares to admit.

Anyways, Max and I had a lovely evening together, the pizza lived up to its excellent reputation (and it was affordable to boot, for the same price of that Caesar salad the night before, I got three meals worth of pizza) and the conversation never faltered.  I like him. I really like him. And while I’m not sure whether or not Max is the king to my queen, another joker, or just another number in my hand, I’m enjoying playing the game right now anyway.

Well, that’s all for this week.  I have more to write about, but unless this piece is 6000 words long, I don’t have the time for it today.  Plus, I like making you bitches feel the need to come back next week!

 

Olivia

 

Crash and Burn

Two years ago tomorrow.  Two years ago tomorrow, my life changed forever.  I let someone into my life and my heart, I let them take some of my walls down, and I gave them all the love I had.  I changed, for better or for worse.  In many ways I am a very different person than I was 2 years ago. Tomorrow we would have been together 2 years.  That was the anniversary I was supposed to be celebrating this week. I had been counting down the months, and had been so excited to celebrate a 2nd anniversary.  I have never celebrated a 2nd anniversary before.  I thought for sure that this would be the second of many anniversaries ahead. Alas, my illusive second anniversary will have to wait.  Instead, I am debating if I should call in sick to work tomorrow so that I can sleep the day away, preferably going the entire day without talking to anyone.  Sure, it’s been 3 months almost to the day since we broke up, and yes, in many ways I have moved on.  But it still hurts.

In these last 3 months I have had more than enough time to analyze (and over analyze) every detail of my failed relationship.  It hasn’t always been pretty.  This road has led me to some very dark places.  But after all this hurt and darkness, I’ve come upon a conclusion.  If I had the chance to go back in time, if Doc and Marty came to me and got me into the Dolorean, and we went back to 2 years ago from today, to the day before Kevin and I met, I would just sit back and watch.  I wouldn’t step in and prevent my past self from making plans to meet him.  I wouldn’t stop me from going on that first date, or from falling so hard in love with him.  I would sit back and watch me move in with him, even though I now know that we probably did that way too soon.  I’d watch as we fought, then made up.  I’d be a fly on the wall during the birthdays, holidays, parties, family times and times with friends.  I’d relive our camping trips (and our adventure on the party barge, which will forever be emblazoned on my brain) I’d sit and watch TV with us during our many quiet moments together.  I’d smell all the meals we made together; I’d laugh at all of our jokes, and at the times when we were being goofy together. I’d see the times we made love, and remember how good it felt to be so close to him in that way.  I’d watch him leave for work time and time again, and I’d watch him always come back to me after long periods apart.  I’d watch and try to remember what it was like to have him hold me, and kiss me, and make me feel so loved, so secure, so safe.  I’d pay careful attention to all the wonderful things he did for me or said to me, and try to forgive him for the not so wonderful things.

And then when the time came, as hard as it would be, I’d quietly watch as it dawned on me that our relationship had changed and we were falling apart.  I’d sit there and watch my heart break as Kevin tells me that he is no longer in love with me.  As hard as it would be, I would let things play out as we decided it was best that we break up.  And I would be there to watch as I packed up all my stuff, and left.  I would watch it all; I’d experience it all over again, all the joy and all the pain, without altering anything.

Not only because I’ve seen Back to the Future about a thousand times and know that changing things could lead to DIRE CONSEQUENCES or, lead to me being super rich and famous (damnit!), but because every moment of those 21 months were worth preserving, even if they ended in pain.

I’m a different person than I was 24 months ago.  Being with Kevin changed me.  And for what it’s worth, I’m better off for having gone through all that.  I know a little bit more about myself now, and I am glad to see that I am strong enough to walk away from something that isn’t working, even if I don’t really want to.  I have always said that I’d rather be single than in a relationship with the wrong person, and I’m glad that when it came right down to it, I wasn’t full of shit on that point.  Because I am worth so much more.

I deserve to have a man who will know without a doubt what he has when he has me, and who thanks his lucky stars that he found me.  I deserve a man who knows that I have flaws, but that he does too, and that we help each other out where we need to.  I deserve a man that will always love me, and will believe me when I tell him that I love him.  I deserve a man who will one day want to marry me, and have kids with me, and will want to grow old with me.  I deserve love. Life changing, soul sweeping, head over heels, ass over teakettle love.  And I deserve all this with a man who deserves all of this too.

Maybe Kevin deserves all of that too, but not from me.

So Kevin, if you are reading this (I have a sneaking suspicion that you still venture to this part of the internet from time to time) thank you for the last two years.  For better, or for worse, these last two years have been some of the greatest years of my life.  And even though our time together didn’t end like I was hoping it would, I am glad you were once such a big part of my world.

Maybe tomorrow I will go to work anyways and be with the land of the living. Maybe instead of drowning in my sorrows, I’ll do something nice for myself, and give myself the anniversary I deserve anyways. Or, maybe I’ll just get trashed after work and watch a Iron Man and then call in sick on Friday. So many options. 

And to my readers (all 5 of you) thanks for letting me spend yet another week going on and on and on about Kevin.  I will try to get some new shit to write about one day.  After all, now that I’m single and dating again, there are bound to be entertaining stories on the way!

Later!

Olivia