Let It Rain

I’m not sure what is harder; watching someone you love walk out of your life, or watching that person you once loved walk back into your life with his new girlfriend in tow.

For almost a year now I have been working part time in the retail merchandise store of the football team here in Lakeview in the location that is right in the stadium. As anyone who has been following me for more than a minute will know that in every way this is my dream part time job. Sure, it’s still shitty retail work, but at least it’s shitty retail work that revolves around something I’m super passionate about. That, and I get a pretty bitchin’ discount.

The reason why the location itself is important to this story is that we had been in the old stadium up until the beginning of March. That stadium was very well loved, spending about 100 years as the foundation of football history in this province. But because of its lengthy run, it was showing its age. The seats were uncomfortable and wooden, when you were “sheltered” at the concessions when it was raining, the ceiling above you poured water like it was a spaghetti strainer, the concessions were few and very far between, as were the run down bathrooms that only had freezing cold water in the taps. If it was raining and your seats were on the east side you were fucked, and if it was hot and sunny you were sunburnt and partially blind by the end of the game. The store I worked at was no better. It was tiny. The store was essentially a shoebox. It was small, the ceilings were low, the lack of windows made the room dark and depressing, the carpet stank and you were either freezing your ass off or cooking like bacon – there was no in between – just like having seats on the east side of the stands.

So a few years ago, the powers that be decided to chip a HUGE chunk of change (huge relative to this province, it was in the ballpark of $300 million, which I think is small potatoes compared to stadiums in other places, but still) to build a shiny new stadium just down the street. This new stadium makes the old one look like an actual pile of shit. The seats are still uncomfortable (because sports seating always sucks), but the view to the field is spectacular. Everything is big and bright and beautiful. The jury is still out on the weather factor because we still don’t have a roof, but at least most of the seats seem relatively covered from a similar overhang that the west side of the old stadium had (where the only advantage to the nosebleeds was that you were pretty much guaranteed to be somewhat protected during adverse weather conditions). All in all, I am completely impressed by the new digs, to the point where I may have to quit my job if they don’t let me book time off to go to at least one game here this season.

The store is amazing. We upgraded from a shoebox to a mansion of a building, with high ceilings, a wall of floor to ceiling windows, where everything is white and bright with big open spaces, TVs in every corner of the store, and a big window filled entrance out into the stadium itself where you can see all the action. We moved over from the old store to the new one at the beginning of March, and every fan that has come in to the store has been in awe of the opulence that we as football fans have never been accustomed to in our province. We finally look like a professional football team (at least off the field anyways).

Because of this new location, we have had a lot of people come from far and wide to see the new digs. Most people don’t even come to buy anything, they just want a sneak peek of the new place. This past week was especially busy as the city hosted the CFL’s first ever CFL Week, which was comprised of various high profile players past and present from across the league, and events for fans of all kinds. So when I went into work on Sunday, as CFL Week was wrapping up, I was expecting it to be busy. I was anticipating a various number of people to walk into the store.

I did not however anticipate seeing Kevin walk through those doors.

You know those big windows I was gushing about a moment ago? Well I love them even more now, because while we as staff can see out of them just fine, there is just enough of a glare on them from the outside that you can’t actually see into the store until you are pretty much right up to the doors. So I saw Kevin long before he came inside. As I was unlocking the door to open, I noticed a familiar truck parked across the street. Huh, I thought. That looks a lot like Kevin’s truck. I see trucks like his all the time in town, so I didn’t think too much about it, but I felt this weird twinge in my stomach about it. I wandered around the store, talking to my coworkers, while periodically checking on that truck parked across the street.

After a few minutes I noticed that someone had gotten out of that truck. A girl. Then, a second later, Kevin emerged from what was indeed his truck. It didn’t even feel real. It felt like I had dreamt it all up. After all, I had thought about running into him out in public a million times. I’ve gone through a million different scenarios of when and where I would bump into him, and in my mind I always looked amazing, and would always say the best things, and present myself in such a way that he would leave and regret ever letting me go. I’ve imagined him coming into my work, but I never thought it would actually happen. A couple minutes after he got out of his truck, his grandparents pulled up and parked in front of him, got out of their vehicle and joined Kevin and the girlfriend on the sidewalk. They stood there chatting for quite some time, and I sat there like a damn idiot, watching them, and praying to whatever deity was listening that they wouldn’t come into the store.

Let me tell you guys, prayer doesn’t do shit, because sure enough, after a few minutes of chatting outside, the four of them started walking towards the store. This is actual footage of me realizing that I was seconds away from seeing Kevin for the first time in a year.

Luckily one of the girls I work with fairly regularly was close enough for me to call her over, and briefly explain what was happening before I basically ran into the stock room, and hid. I stayed in there for a good 10 minutes before it dawned on me that they could be in the store for awhile, and that I legitimately couldn’t hide in there all day without catching shit from the managers that were there that day. So after having a slight panic attack, and with a bucket full of butterflies in my stomach, I peeked into the store, saw that at least Kevin & Co weren’t anywhere right in front of the stock room door, and proceeded into the store with extreme caution.

I heard his voice, and saw the 4 of them looking at stuff across the store from me with my peripheral vision, but I wasn’t going to dare risk catching his gaze. So maybe he saw me at that point, I guess I’ll never know, but I found my coworkers, they gave me a bunch of shirts to go fold, and I spent the next 25 minutes in the change rooms folding shirts with my hair pulled down to cover as much of my face as possible until I heard the four of them leave, and my coworkers came to tell me they were gone.

I wanted to cry. And scream. And throw up. I hated that I ran away. I hated that after a year and a fucking half, the thought of seeing him still hurts. But more than anything I despise the fact that he was the one who fell out of love with me, he broke my god damned heart to a million fucking pieces but he gets to be the happy one, while I am miserable as fuck, wading through piles of shitty dating app messages and meeting a constant stream of assholes. How is that fair? It just makes me so fucking angry.

So now, I’m picking up the pieces – again. And I somehow have to try and convince myself that all this will work itself out in the end. I don’t know how to do that, because right now I’m feeling lower than I ever have. It’s so stupid that I still hold on to what I had, and what I won’t have, and I wish it would all just go away.

All I know is that for all this bullshit I’ve gone through, the least the universe could do for me is throw me a bone in the form of a beautiful football player. I mean honestly, at this point I deserve that for fuck’s sake.

Olivia

Advertisements

Locked Away

As I’m writing this, I’m sitting on a beach near Lakeview, looking out at a bunch of little kids, making sand castles, splashing in the water and having fun as only children can in the summer. The weather isn’t even very nice. It was hot and mostly sunny out about an hour and a half ago when we first arrived, but then the clouds rolled up, covering the once nice bright shining day, turning it overcast and cool. This actually suits me quite well, because even though I enjoy a hot summer day as much as the next person, a cool day at the beach means I can relax and read a really great book without sweat pooling in my ass crack. 

I sit and look out on the water, and I try very hard to prevent my brain from wandering into the memory banks where the now distant memories of me and Kevin at this particular lake live. I’m failing at this by way, and not even just a little bit. I see people on a gigantic 6 person inflatable party barge, and it reminds me of when Kevin and I lounged on his party barge the first summer we were together. I see boats in the distance, people fishing or skiing, and my brain is back on Kevin’s best friend’s boat, and we are catching fish early in the morning because that’s when fishing here is the best. I see the yacht club and think, “why in the fuck do we have a yacht club here? You live here. You ain’t fancy. These aren’t even yachts, they are boats. Small ones in fact.” And then I remember last summer when Kevin and I took a drive out to the beach, just for something to do on a lazy Sunday and we went for a nice walk. As we walked past the “yacht club” I made a similar joke about how ridiculous it is to try to be fancy in this neck of the woods. It was one of the last days we spent just the two of us, just enjoying each other’s company. 

I’m trying (and failing) to move on in general. Sure, I’ve had the Maxes and Marks, and the Eriks and the Shamuses, and they have all been fun. Snapchatting, Tindering, and Tweeting have filled my time, and given me brief moments of flirty entertainment, but they have all been a distraction from the fact that I am so unbelievably miserable with my life. Sure, on the surface I seem fine. I crack the jokes, I smile a lot, and my selfie game is on point, but I’m fucking miserable. And I have been since October. 

And it’s not just the loneliness. Well, it’s mostly about that, but not all about that. I’ll also spare you the lengthy essay about my depression over being 31, single and childless. To say that that record has been overplayed would be the understatement of the century. 

I’m in a rut. A big one. My life feels just like I’m going through the motions, no ebbs or flows, just steady monotony. I have far too much free time to think and overanalyze every detail of my life, and unfortunately because of this, Kevin continues to live rent free in my brain. We’ve been apart for 9 months (has it really been that long already?!) and yet I still haven’t moved on like I wish I would have by now. I have never had such a hard time getting over someone. Mind you, I’ve never loved anyone like I loved Kevin, so I guess that makes sense. I just want this to be done. I want the fact that he unfriended me on Facebook to not bother me. I want to not constantly wonder if he’s got a new girlfriend (pretty sure he does) and wonder what she’s like, and if he loves her yet; if he can see the future with her that he couldn’t see with me. I know I said a few months ago that I wouldn’t undo all that Kevin and I had for the world, but after 9 months with this soul consuming, gut wrenching pain, I want it gone. All of it. All of the good and every last shred of the bad. 

They say it’s better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all? I call bullshit on that. Maybe this is only true when you are old and on your death bed and have spent your entire life madly in love with your soulmate, only to be taken away from them by the fate of death that plagues us all. But if you have your heart smashed into a million pieces by the one you love when you felt like you had your whole life ahead of you with this person, fuck that. It’s better to not have loved at all. Life shouldn’t be about pain. Love shouldn’t be about pain. Love is supposed to make your life better, not indescribably worse. 

I feel sorry for the guy who wants to be my next love. He’s going to have so many walls to climb over or knock down. I’ve put these all up to protect my heart, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let it be that easy to get to it again. Hell, forget getting to my heart, he’s going to have a bitch of time just getting me to go for coffee with him in the first place. As it is, I’ve only met one new guy since I broke up with Mark a month and a half ago. I even deleted my dating profile, although I still have Tinder. I guess a small piece of the pre-Kevin Olivia still lives on, even if post-Kevin Olivia would prefer to go live in a cave somewhere. 

My brain keeps telling me that all this will pass. One day I will wake up and feel like my old self, and I won’t give a single fuck what Kevin is doing. My heart however is like the weather. Some days it’s warm and sunny, but in a moment’s notice it turns dark and cold. 

One day I’ll be better. 

But today is not that day. 

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

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

Kicking My Heels

Holy balls, it’s 2016.  I hope you all had a lovely holiday season. My Christmas was good.  I ate way too much as one does, I had a respectable, some would say almost modest amount of wine and spent some very nice time with my family.  All in all, it was a fantastic holiday.  I hit a minor bout of holiday depression in the early evening on the 25th, as family pictures were being taken and it dawned on me how alone I was. Seeing my step-siblings get nice family pictures with their wives/husbands and their kids, while I just got my “family” picture sitting by myself, nearly pushed me over the edge. I was trying my hardest to smile instead of burst into tears. That was far from how I wanted that day to go, but you know, oh well I guess.  I had a similar experience about a week later on New Year’s Eve as the clock hit midnight, wiping away all the good and bad of 2015, I looked around the room I was in, only to see 3 other couples happy, hugging and kissing their way into 2016.  I on the other hand, swigged my wine back, and hoped like hell that this year would be better.  Almost 2 weeks into the year and I am now back to reality, back in my protective single girl bubble, back to work, and back to my fairly uneventful life.

I say fairly uneventful, because as always, the one area of my life that is far from boring is the wonderful world of dating.  For better or for worse, a single girl’s best friend can sometimes be the craziness and unpredictability of what dating will throw your way.  Between the messages from guys who neither read your online dating profile nor care to, and the guys who CANNOT take the motherfucking hint (ie: I am not responding to your initial message of “Hi” because from what I see on your profile we aren’t right for each other as you say you are looking for a hook-up only, which I am so very not into at the moment, so yes please spend the next 6 weeks messaging me without any response, and then call me the stuck up slut for not contacting you. That’ll change my mind.) to the guys that don’t seem to have the most basic concept of the English language (guys whose first and only language IS English, by the way) to the always classy guys who start a conversation by asking if I want to bang, or by complimenting my tits. Don’t get me wrong, I take that as a compliment none the less because my tits are wonderful, but call me old fashioned when I think that that compliment should be reserved for after I start dating someone, not several nopes before.  Never mind the horror that is the guy who you actually know, have met before in a completely non-dating way who messages you on the dating site with an “Oh hey, remember me?” Internet dating is an interesting thing my friends.

But the internet is not the only place where things get a little hazy.  In fact, I still have yet to meet anybody new since Max and the 3 not-so-muches from my last post.  Max and I are still seeing each other, quite regularly actually, and so far things are going good.  Very good.  So good in fact that I am terrified to have the “what are we to each other?” talk that I know we should probably have sooner than later.  But I figure the longer I put it off, the longer Max and I can stay in this awesome little place, and I can continue to be happy for a little while, in case Max doesn’t feel the same way about me. I’ve been down that unrequited love thing once already in the last few months, I don’t think I could handle another situation like that right now.  At a certain point, you start to take it incredibly personally. So for once I’m more than okay being in this casual dating/relationship limbo.

Speaking of unrequited love, the good news here is that each day I think of Kevin less and less.  Once in awhile I catch myself wondering about him, or thinking about our relationship.  I sometimes play pieces (both the good and the bad) of our relationship over and over in my mind, but even that is becoming less frequent.  When I first met Max, I thought my baggage from Kevin was going to trickle into my new dating life. And at first, it did.  I would compare the two, and think about how things would be different if I was on that date with Kevin instead of Max.  During those first 2 or 3 dates I felt incredibly guilty, because even though we had broken up months before, I still felt like I was being unfaithful to Kevin somehow.  Now it’s the opposite.  When I saw Kevin a couple days before Christmas to pick up some of my mail that got sent to his house, I thought about Max.  I wondered how he would feel if he knew that I was over at my ex-boyfriend’s house.  I felt incredibly guilty, because even though Max and I have never discussed being exclusive, and even though Kevin and I did absolutely nothing but talk, I felt like I was being unfaithful to him.  I usually hate feeling guilty, but in this case I am glad that I did.  I think it’s a definite step in the right direction.

A step in the wrong direction however presented itself over the last couple of weeks.  A wrong direction by the name of Erik.  Now, Erik as my most loyal of readers will remember, was my Friends With Benefits (or FWB) from about 3 years ago, who I hooked up with for about a year, fell for him a little bit (or a lot, whatever), moved cities theoretically to be with him, which of course blew up in my face when he shot me down, and broke my heart.  Over the years we’ve still kept in touch, reconnecting once every few months on Twitter or Facebook, just to say hi, nothing more, nothing less.  Well low and behold, not more than 2 weeks after I had broken up with Kevin and had moved into my new place, guess who I heard from?  Yup, you guessed it, Erik!  He told me how sorry he was that Kevin and I broke up, and blah, blah, blah, he wants me to be happy, blah, blah, blah, and now I hear from him fairly regularly. Including on New Year’s Eve, when a seemingly innocent wishing of a Happy New Years, turned into a very flirtatious round of messaging that sorta ended with a proposition to one day get together for some long overdue benefits.

Don’t fucking judge me!!  I know!!  I should never have let it get to that point.  I know better!  But I’m going to go ahead and blame holiday depression on this one!  I couldn’t even help myself. It felt like such familiar territory.  This is exactly what happened the last time I went through a break up.  I fell down Erik’s rabbit hole (that sounds way worse than it actually is) and lost myself in the comforting embrace of having a really good FWB. So sue me if doing that again after this break up would make me feel better. Luckily, I knew in the moment that what I was doing (or thinking of doing rather) was wrong, so I reached out to Annie, who I knew would kick my ass up and down the block if I went down that path again.  Thank fuck she answered her phone and told me exactly what I needed to hear: don’t. you. fucking. dare.  So I didn’t.  And I can say with 95% certainty that I won’t.  While I know it would probably be fun, and hot, and seeing as though I am still technically single, and completely at liberty to do what (and who) I want, it would be something that I know I would regret forever, especially since it would definitely change things between me and Max one way or another.  And right now, that is a mistake that I simply don’t want to make.

But if things with Max and me go down the shitter, don’t be surprised if there is an FWB post in my future.

Ok…..now you can judge me.  Cause I judge me too.

Hasta la later blueberries!

Olivia