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I Don’t Even Know What to Name This Post

18 Oct

I am well aware that this is my third post in 24 hours. This is what happens when I’m left alone to contemplate on my weekend off.

All week I’ve been pestering my friends, trying to make plans for this weekend, and everyone’s been busy. Literally, there were no options, even my parents went away this weekend. So I binged on seafood and beer and watched a movie (girl’s life sucks and then she meets a dude) and spent too much time online, and finally I went to bed and took forever to fall asleep, and pulled a muscle in my shoulder which is bugging the hell out of me.

And oh, in case you were wondering, my preiod’s late and I have horrible PMS. And don’t worry, I’m not pregnant, last time I checked you needed to have sex for that to happen, and I’m just not that lucky. But, this waiting irritably for my period to come has one perk to it, which is that no matter how fucking lonely and sad I feel right now, I cannot sleep with an ex. And I think that should be my new life mission: no sleeping with exes.

Last night after finally falling asleep, reading a silly romance novel (girl’s life sucks and then she meets a dude, sound familiar?) recommended by my friend J, who guess what, went away this weekend with everyone else, I had a very weird erotic dream, which I am about to share with you lucky bastards.

I was in Berlin, in my friend M’s uncle and aunt’s house, where we visited summer 2013. That was a hell of a trip. I’m going to sidetrack now and tell you about it for a second. M had only recently found out that she was sick, and it was as good an excuse as any to get together for a reunion trip. There was me, playing the role of the single mom, betrayed by her partner of 13 years, but awesomely strong and feeling hot post affair with SG. There was G, who now has three kids and is in a cult, but back then only had two kids and was in a cult. She had recently moved into a new house in the middle of nowhere and was weening her youngest from nursing, so had sore boobs the entire trip and basically could not believe that she was actually sleeping through the night. J was the stable one, which was weird because shortly before she had been the all-over-the-place-looking-for-herself one. She lived with a boyfriend, who we all loved, but now hate, since they broke up. She’d quit the life of unbearably low teacher’s income to work in hi tech and was overwhelmed by the hours, the emails and the stress, but at the same time enjoying immensly the sense of financial relief. E couldn’t come. She was busy going into labor. Actually, I think I should lable her as the stable one. She’d had a bunch of shitty stuff happen to her, but she was now living with her very kind and loveable husband and having a baby with him. Plus, she’d just handed in her thesis.

Then there was M. I met M when we were 18 and clueless and soldiers (gotta love mandatory military service), and I hated her at first because she’d made a comment about my weight. She’d been cynical, she later clarified, and I hadn’t discovered cynicism yet back then. A few months later we got to know each other and became best buds. Our gang got me through some rough times. I was horribly depressed in the army (and then I met a guy. Sound familiar?).

Anyway, M was going through some hard times back then, and her way of dealing with it was for us to go out dancing until the wee hours of the night. She didn’t like to drink back then, so she was always the designated driver. She lived with her parents in a gorgeous house in a beautiful town with the greenest most soothing views. And our favorite thing to do, after clubbing, was to come home at 6 am and order junk food and eat it at the best viewpoint in town, joking loudly about the guys who had hit on us, or who’d told us we danced like whores (true story). Our ears still ringing post BabyOneMoreTime and YourLoveGotMeSoCrazyRightNow, we’d fall asleep until it was early afternoon and then laze about in the garden, picking fruit from the trees.

Fuck.

I know I was talking about Berlin, and my dream, which now suddenly feels totally unimportant. I’ve been very honest and open in this blog until now, but if there’s one thing I haven’t written about at all it’s my friend M’s sickness. And I think I mostly haven’t written about it because she’s one of the only people I know who reads this blog. And it feels sort of unfair to write about how hard it is for me that she’s sick, and to have her read about it. Sort of like how my mom kept telling me how hard it was for her when BD and I broke up.

Obviously it’s hard to worry about her. Obviously seeing someone you deeply love in pain is the worst thing in the world. Obviously it pains me that I would like to be there for her more than I am able to, physically and emotionally. But in all honesty, the worst part is the most selfish part. I just miss our carefree friendship of early 20’s. I miss going out to a club and dancing “like whores”, and making fun of the boys that hit on us. And I’m not good at being patient. And you need a lot of patience to fight cancer.

Well.

Berlin.

That trip, I think, was a moment of forgetting about all the crap that was going on in some of our lives and just having some carefree fun. I think I remembered it now because I was going through some old photos and maybe that’s why it entered my weird sex dream which I was about to talk about when I began reminiscing like some sad 80 year old. So let’s get back to it, shall we?

I was with M at her uncle and aunt’s house, and I think the rest of the gang was there too. Yes, E as well, I’m remembering now, no kiddos, just us. And there was a guy there, his name was K, and actually, I know him. When I went on my three magical day vacation in Budapest this summer, he had showed me around. I knew him through M, because she was into couch surfing and he’d stayed at her apartment in the city the year before. K was really sweet, funny and had a sexy French accent, because he was originally from Bourdeau. Anyway, he was in my dream too, and we were sharing a room.

The room was enormous and our single beds were at two completely different corners of it. Before we’d gone to bed we’d had a dinner all together, with the aunt and uncle as well, and we were drinking red wine and laughing and K and I were slightly flirtatious, but only slightly. When we got to the bedroom though, I decided I was going to make a move.

I was a little worried because I hadn’t showered, and I felt self concsious. Still, I felt like I had not been touched in forever (wonder where that feeling came from) and I decided to just go for it. I came to his bed and started chatting and kind of touching him on the shoulder and flirting. And he said: “I don’t know if this is a good idea.” Which I read as rejection. But then I said to myself, don’t over think it, and I kind of continued flirting and soon we were making out. I remember vividly thinking to myself that if he had said this was not a good idea, that meant this was probably a one-time thing. And I was OK with that. It also crossed my mind that he might actually stop in the middle, because who knows, maybe there was a good reason why he’d said that. And then I remember thinking, even if we don’t actually go through with this, at least someone is holding me right now. I should just stop thinking and enjoy this warmth because who knows when anyone is going to ever hold me again.

He was warm, and I remember it in a non-sexual sort of way, like it was just comforting and nice. And then, it started to become sexual and I was totally worried about the shower thing again, so I told him I needed to go to the bathroom and went to shower quickly. I had to run around the entire house half naked and couldn’t find the shower, and finally did, and there was no door or towel, and I sort of washed myself and somehow dried up, but then the shower curtain fell and I just decided not to fix it and run back to the room.

He was still in bed and was waiting for me, and I was surprised he still wanted me, because I was sure I’d taken too long and he would be over it. And then we fucked and it was totally boring and missionary, but just so nice and comfortable and warm and when it was over I was prepared to go back to my bed but then I got the nerve to ask him to hold me and he did.

There will be no paragraph tying everything I’ve writted here together, with some hopeful message to the world or to myself. In two hours my Boy comes home and I go back to being a mom, which is something I can handle. So for now, goodbye alone time. I hope to not encounter you any time soon.

He’s Here and He’s Good to Me

24 May

There’s a new man in my life. Unexpected, it seems to me, predictable as hell if you ask my friend M.

M says I don’t know how to do casual, and she’s probably right. Here’s something I realized recently: I started dating B slightly under two months ago, and from the start anyone who asked me about him received the same answer: It’s fun, but it’s not going anywhere. B is nothing like me. We are drastically different in our occupations, interests, preferences, lifestyles, our mother tongues, our cultures, in the way we manage our interpersonal relationships.

Oddly enough though we are eerily alike in spirit. We share similar personal experiences. We’ve been hurt in similar ways. We have similar self-constraints. We’ve overcome similar obstacles. We take pride in our (sometimes overly) high self-awareness. We both basically think we know everything there is to know about ourselves and it takes us by surprise if someone manages to point out something we’ve overlooked.

And there is another striking similarity: We are both fearless. I don’t mean that we know no fear. At least for me, fear is an emotion I have gotten to know rather closely these past two years. But I don’t let it run my life, anymore at least. On the contrary, I am often aware that if something scares me to death, it may be just what I need.

So last night, when I said ‘I love you’, and I felt like I might faint, I knew it was probably a good thing. I could feel myself starting to think fast. What the hell am I doing? I hardly know this guy. He’s probably going to hurt me. Anyway, I’m not looking for a serious relationship now (I bet M will laugh as she reads this).  Why can’t I be a little less impulsive? Why can’t I keep my mouth shut? I bet he’s not going to say it back.

He did, though, about fifteen minutes later.

As we lay in bed hugging after a session of mind-blowing post-I-love-you sex, I remembered suddenly that I was sure things with SG would be casual. I had no intention of falling in love with him.  But what’s even more interesting is what I remembered next. Meeting my friends after a 4th date with BD, nearly 15 years ago. Describing our relationship as a ‘casual-summer-fling’. Telling my friends we were going to take things slow.

So M may be right. I guess I don’t do casual. I guess I’m easy to fall in love. I don’t know if that makes me easy, or overly accepting. Is it odd that the first guy who hit on me after my breakup, became probably the greatest love of my life? That it was more difficult to overcome my breakup with him than with my husband, father of my son? That thinking about him still triggers emotions that I haven’t felt towards BD in years? And is it odd that as soon as I was ready to start something new, the first man I dated, that I intended to lure into bed after months of unbearable loneliness, was able to provoke similar emotions in me? Being as different as he is from me? With all the little things about him that I find almost intolerable? His dog-eat-dog profession? His work stories that make me cringe? His incomprehensible taste in music? His freezer, crammed with frozen pizzas and low quality non-dairy ice cream?

But there we were last night. Laughing about something in bed. It’s so nice to just laugh sometimes. I do that a lot with him. He asks in Spanish how I feel, and I answer ‘bien’ and he asks me that every so often when we’re together, because he really wants to know. He always wants to know how I feel. He respects my boundaries: the things I cannot do, or promise, or say. He remembers what I like and dislike, and it matters to him. He’s here. He’s good to me. So I feel entitled to love him, even if it means nothing more than stating what he makes me feel.

I guess it’s true, I may not be capable of casual. I may be prone to falling in love. But am I capable of just being? With someone who is kind to me? With someone who is there?

 

 

Horizon

30 Oct

peer

I had the morning off today and I took a long walk along the peer and looked at the water. It was a beautiful beginning-of-fall day, with a bit a wind, grayish skies, and a gloominess that makes you reminiscent and somehow pleasantly melancholy. I love this type of weather. I can sit for hours watching the waves and contemplating life, arriving at endless conclusions that have no practical implications on my life.

I stood there, leaning on the railing, looking at the horizon, and as always felt overwhelmed by the vastness of it all, so many possibilities, so many opportunities, an openness that the future seems to hold when you take time off work and stare into the ocean. It filled me with such hope and happiness that I had to take a picture, so I pulled out my phone.

Then I took a step back, and I noticed the railing, which was actually a fence, a barrier installed to keep people from falling or jumping into the water. A barrier keeping people from that vastness, from that openness, narrowing down possibilities and opportunities. I suddenly felt held back, constrained, angry even.

And there you have it. Like everything else, the peer on a fall morning is a completely different experience, depending on your perspective, and the narrative you choose to to organize your story in. You can look at the horizon, or you can choose to see the railing. You can allow the foamy waves to fill your heart with prospects and opportunities, or you can take in the impossibilities, the constraints.

Wedding

26 Sep

dress

It was a beautiful wedding. BD took Baby and I had time for a bath, hair and make up, and I took a cab so I’d be able to drink. It wasn’t a close friend of mine who’d gotten married, but I knew I’d be crying like a little girl as she walked down the aisle. And I did.

I’ve always cried at weddings, for various reasons, that have changed over the years. The reasons that cause me to well up may have changed, but the tears are there, same as always. It used to be “how beautiful it is to be so in love” tears, and later on “I wish I were getting married”. Then it was, “I’m so happy for them” tears – after I myself had gotten married I went through a phase where I wanted everyone I knew to get married as well, so that they could be as happy as I was. Finally came the “fuck this” tears. The “true love doesn’t really exist but if you want to believe that it does, go ahead” tears. The “yeah, good luck with that” tears.

Tonight, it was the “will I ever love anyone that much again” tears, that stung my heart and shattered my soul.

At least I wore a pretty dress, drank five whiskey diet colas, ate a ginormous piece of wedding cake and got plenty of attention.

Time for bed now.

Comfort Food and Contemplation

15 Aug

pasta

Pasta with tomatoes and parmesan cheese at midnight. Healthy.

Staying up to blog rather than get some sleep. Smart.

Contemplating life and trying to reach a decision. Necessary, difficult, a lost cause.

 

Here’s what I know about BD:

1. He loves me.

2. He’s a good father.

3. He wants the same things in life as me: another kid, family time, travelling.

4. He has resources to make my life comfortable financially.

5. He’s willing to do whatever it takes to make us work.

6. He’s a slob.

7. He’s chronically late, everywhere.

8. He’s not really passionate about anything.

 

Here’s what I know about me:

1. I love who I am when I’m alone, I’m scared of losing myself in a relationship. I have before.

2. I’m a great mother, I’m sure I make mistakes, but I give it my all, 24/7 and I do more than just all right.

3. I can do it on my own. I’m just not sure I want to.

4. I do still care for BD.

5. There’s only so much I’m willing to do to make things work between us.

6. I feel happy when my house, schedule and emotions are tidy and neat. I need order.

7. I don’t know if I will ever be able to forgive BD for what he put me through when he left me abruptly with a 4 month old baby. 

8. I seek passion in every aspect of my life.

 

And there you have it.

No conclusions, just thoughts.

No light bulbs or ‘Eureka’s, just midnight pasta and contemplation.

Still a Little Yours

19 Jul

path

 

I tried to tell myself not to contact you again, especially when you were so explicit about letting go and moving on the last time we spoke. I don’t have your phone number anymore, and that makes things a bit easier. Still, I’m writing. Sometimes you have to be unreasonable. 

I just returned from four magical days in beautiful Berlin. It was lovely – quiet and calm, the exact opposite of the everyday turmoil of my life. This peace that I felt there, brought back memories, made me think of you, and I suddenly had a strong urge to know what’s up with you. Still at that same job? Have you read that book we talked about? Made any important decisions? Had any interesting thoughts? It’s not exactly longing, this feeling, well maybe a little. But mostly it’s an honest interest in someone who used to be a close friend, and suddenly I have no contact with him. 

This year has been the most challenging, interesting, emotional, turbulent year of my life, and you had a part in it. I often think about everything that’s happened to me, and even more about how I have dealt with it all, about the narrative I put together, that ties all these events together and gives them meaning. 

I think about the time we spent together and everything I’ve learned from it. You have a unique ability to see people. I still feel that you managed to see me in a way that I hadn’t been seen in a really long time. You’re sharp, and you think outside the box, and that’s because you don’t even live inside this box called ‘normal life’ or ‘Earth’ or ‘acceptable’. You live entirely outside of the box. But life sometimes calls for thinking inside the box. And I think it’s a huge challenge for us to find the balance – where do we consent to doing what’s expected of us, so that we can lead reasonable (that word again) lives, and where do we draw the line and refuse to cross it. I’m still looking for the balance, and maybe I’ll never find it, just as I may never figure this world out completely. That’s the beauty of this road I’m taking, that it’s full of plot twists, and dramatic changes, and lessons, and surprises, and I love each and every one of them, even when I hate them – I still love them. 

I understand today more than ever that I have the power to choose my own path, to live my life as I wish to. All the doors are open, the choice is mine, and all the possibilities that lay before me are good ones. I understand today that I can’t go wrong, as long as I stay true to myself. It looks like my narrative is changing again. 

I’m not writing you because I want to get back together, although a part of me would give anything to spend another senseless passionate night with you. But in the morning, I know we’d reach the same conclusion we have before. We both want different things. There is a huge gap between what we expect of a relationship and what we want from the future. 

They say that people fall in love, because it makes them see the best in themselves. When I was in love with you I felt that I was the most beautiful, the smartest, the happiest, the sexiest, the most special woman in the world. I think you felt the same with me. I hope so. Today, I just feel like I’m in love with life, in love with this journey. I hope you are too. 

Still a little yours.

 

 

 

 

Letting Go of the Pear

8 Jul

pear

Baby’s afternoon snack was a pear yesterday, cut into pieces that he could easily hold in his fist and take little bites out of using his now five teeth. He was excited about this pear, licking, sucking, and biting into it enthusiastically. He ate it in his stroller as we made our way to the playground and he was about half way through his third piece when we reached our destination. Now he had a dilemma, he wanted to play, but couldn’t let go of his pear.

At first he tried playing with his pear still in his hand. But as he’d only recently started walking (hurray!), this preocupation threw off his balance and he kept falling down. Also, he needed both hands to climb and play. And so, eventually, he came to me and handed me the pear. I took it and held it in my hand so he could see it. He seemed worried. I told him he could have the pear back whenever he wanted, I was just keeping it for him. He started to play but less then two minutes later he began to cry and would only be consoled by having his pear back. He gave it a lick and put it back in my hand for saf keeping. This happened two more times, after which he came back another time just wanting to see the pear. Finally he let go. He realized that the present was more important than the past, that there would be other pears, maybe even peaches or plums in his future.

I observed him through this process and thought of myself, my relationship with SG, how difficult it was to end it, and how many times we tried to end it, unsuccessfully. And how eventually it did end, no thanks to me.

He was my pear (and my pair). Sweet, juicy, tasty, satisfying. He was exactly what I needed at the time. And it’s difficult to let go, because just like my boy, I too worry that I might never get another pear. For all I know, this pear might be the last pear on Earth.