TODAY CAME WITH AN ARRAY OF EMOTIONS AND TONIGHT I CANT SLEEP. I gotta get some of this out of my head so my body can rest.
The story I wrote this morning gave me some clarity. When I called the handyman to coordinate work stuff today and he asked how I was; I wasn’t fine. I was distant. I was hurt. I was uncomfortable with where we were but I wasn’t willing to leave him hanging.
When we met it was similar. I wasn’t overly affectionate like a cat purring at his legs begging for attention. I was focused. I wanted to get some shit done. Make a plan and be sure we were moving his stuff in the right direction. I wanted to reduce his overall stress and get on with my day.
He turned the conversation back to us. He apologized. He owned his failure. He reconciled. He acknowledged that reading the description of how he felt and what he was hoping for in 2017 when he really started dating chucks mistress - that same statement could be made about me and he knew it. He realized he was an idiot. He understood he was pushing me away; self sabotaging the good thing our relationship was in his life.
He gave me what I needed validation and an apology with an assurance of changes behavior. Then he asked me to go to the gym and I happily agreed.
When I took him back to the job site after these conversations- I said did we just get back together with out the caveat that you can’t be accountable to this real relationship. He said, I think we did.
He thanked me for staying. For not letting him destroy us.
So after work, we went to the gym.
I loath the gym but he LOVES it. He’s like a kid in a playground. He could spend all damn day there. I can barely walk in the door without having a panic attack. But I love everything we do together and the gym is one of those things. The first time we went I was an anxious wreck. I complained. It hurt. He patiently made me keep going. The second time we went it was better. I was super self conscious of my arms in the mirror and the way I looked. But a week later, I wanted to go.
I wanted to do this with him. I like the way he works out with me. We don’t go do our own things. I force him to do legs and he makes me really do squats. I am so proud to run around that place with my smoking hot man that lovingly smiles at me while I work out with him.
I want the endorphins and the muscle definition and the slimmer waste line so bad. I want to show him my work ethic can be tailored into really good habits. That the way I’ve become complacent and lethargic with my physical health is something that I want to fix. That i will see his passion for fitness and be a worthy partner in that.
I’ve needed someone to push me to this for a long long while. So the gym. The physical activity that we do together running around there for an hour and half was the bonding time I needed. It was what I wanted to do with my night.
Then we ate salads and parted ways. Him to his house to spend some time with his boy and me to mine to take a hot bath and veg out.
We’ve been texting and our conversation turned back to our good day. Then to my blog. He read it. Then he responded with more of a confession than I needed but I think he felt like I deserved some validation in being right even when it was something I didn’t want to be right about. He said he’d do whatever I need. So I told him. I need it gone. I need to never speak of it again. I need the cougar out of both of our lives. He said done. That he was done hurting me with his selfishness. No more of this. Then he said I choose you and I love you.
That’s what I need. I need chosen. Today and tomorrow and the day after that. I need him to take one day at a time choosing me. Choosing joy. Choosing us. I need him to see our value past this season.
So tonight and today and moving into tomorrow; we are still in this thing together. We are still pushing forward. Throwing away the broken bricks and building our foundation with the lessons learned and promises we plan to keep.
Today was a good day and I’m glad I haven’t gotten off this ride too soon.
Thursday, January 23, 2020
Welcome to My Diary
WHAT HAVE I DONE!? I have been writing this blog since 2011. I have poured life lessons and huge mistakes into this thing. I have changed the url twice when it has accidentally been found. I have screenshot stories in the past and sent them to people. I have read them to men I was dating when I felt my written insight would best explain, well ME. But I have never NEVER given access of this to a man.
In fact I know which girlfriends can read this. I am specific. I am intentional. This is the most vulnerable part of me. My writing. I tell you my patterns of behavior here. The way I love. The way I hurt. The way I have ended things or began things of royally fucked things up. This blog has anxiety and fear and life lessons.
So why in the HELL did I send the website to the Handyman? Instant fear. Instant regret.
So he’ll read this. Hi boo! But not just this, all of it. The pattern of older men in my twenties that has only been tweaked slightly in my 30s. The way I have loved and lost and been broken and rebuilt on the heels of one night stands, feeding my shattered ego, broken hearted. How Mr Toilet was the love of my life and the standard I held every man too until a year ago when I finally got the closure I’d been desperately seeking since I was 26. There are high school stories. My first kiss and sexual assault. There are mean girl moments and friendships over in this blog. There are whole years I skip writing because I can’t even face the stories. I didn’t write a single post about my kardashian marriage or the sex addict until it was over. Years I skipped investing in my mental health by processing trauma this way. And now he can read it.
When I said do you want to see my journal, laying in bed last night? The offer came because he was sharing his. He had screenshot some hand written pages about the end of his first marriage and the beginning of dating Chuck’s Mistress. The pain in parts and the excitement of new opportunities to fall in love and find your person. The desire for the partner to build his passions with, it was there. I love the vulnerability he shows me when he shares things like this and I feel the pain when I know he’s facing it.
It only seemed fair to reciprocate. To open up my past and my heart and say here I am. You pretty much know all this but now you can see it in real time. Go back to 2011 and start this journey and see how my type hasn’t really changed. I still date extremely driven, mostly entrepreneurial minded men, older but not by like a decade. I keep it closer to my age. I have the same love language of acts of service and words of affirmation. I recently learned never married and no kids is a lack of life experience I would just prefer not to deal with; so still dads. I also don’t worry about crazy exes any more. I don’t like the drama. If an ex is crazy, I am more likely to ask what did YOU do than to believe she is just off her rocker. I’m someone’s “crazy ex” I’m sure.
See my pattern of men falling in love with me, or at least thinking they do. Explore my fear of not trusting that because I hear it so often. All the things I tell him; he can now read for himself and I somehow will remain this open book mentally processing my fear and experiences for him to see.
I need to wrap my head around some stuff and I truly don’t want to blog about it. I don’t want to write about how disappointing our weekend trip to ski was, or how the tagged posts of him on my page caused drama. It’s easy to explain the part that it gives him anxiety “being in a relationship” in public while still navigating a divorce. I understand that his attorney’s instructions were only posts about work, family, kids. But truly it’s the other woman/or maybe it’s women that he engages in conversation and most recently more with - that he doesn’t want me to find out. He doesn’t want them to know there is a girl he calls his girlfriend. And this weekend - she found me and she did what all women do when they feel wronged. She told me about them in hopes of hurting him back and driving us a part.
The flash back of Facebook and Instagram requests and messages was a hard one. It was a consistent part of my relationship with the sex addict. I can’t tell you how many confessions of wrong doings I had to navigate. How many times i would ask, did you sleep with her? To listen to the “no” and know it was a yes. I can’t count the number of those times I was complicit in being lied to... and here I am again.
The Handyman fell hard and fast. Classic. He fell too soon. Before he has journeyed through healing and processed his pain. He isn’t divorced. He still has his wife’s initial tattooed on his ring finger in a truly white trash way. He is deeply mourning the loss of his forever. The person he thought was his partner for the rest of his life. He’s facing the lies of her infidelity. He’s navigating the pain and trying to understand how someone he loves so much could do so much damage. He’s broken and there are just glimpses of his former self in there and a tiny indication of the way he will emerge from this trauma.
He’s a good one. I know he is. I see it. He loves me well in a lot of ways I really don’t want to lose. We match in passion and language. We communicate calmly and effectively. When facing the hard conversations there is very little fight and mostly a back and forth battle of wits. It’s all I see you, I hear you, I understand how you feel, here is my take on that. Here is my desired outcome of this disagreement. We don’t say hurtful things. We don’t storm away in anger but sometimes take space so that hurtful words aren’t the reaction.
But this trip. This trip broke my heart. It was dramatic and ugly. When he’s asked how was it, the lies just flow out. It was great skiing. Weather was good. House is nice. Blah blah blah.
No I got literally dumped on a mountain when he had to face the lies he was telling me and some recently divorced client he finds “interesting”. He hurt me. He lied to me. Then he skied away from the half way point bar where we were having cocktails. Then he said I don’t want to do this, I can’t be in a relationship when I caught up to him. Then he left me on the mountain as he raced away saying - this is over. I’m done. I want out. Only to text a little later and say I need an hour to calm down. I’ll find you at 4.
He didn’t care that I spent $200 of my single mom salary to be on that mountain. That I didn’t let him pay for my ticket of my skis because he already had paid for my meals and my gas to be there. He didn’t care it wasn’t me that didn’t do anything to him. That I wasn’t yelling, I wasn’t hateful. I was hurt. This man tells me he loves me. Then sometimes he doesn’t - he texts women who feed his ego and then this cougar comes along and god only knows. But she’s convinced he owes her a conversation to save their relationship. She’s convinced he is racing home to see her. And I am fucking devastated.
See the man I fell for and reciprocated the love has a very similar past to mine. He’s been shattered by infidelity. He’s had trust irreparably damages. He’s been the significant other that had his world shaken by lies and deceit. He has felt this pain. So why? How? Could he do this to me. AND more importantly how do I let him?
You see as he tells me I’m going to hurt you. I’m not myself. I love you as best I can and I’m really trying to be who you need and deserve but I’m just not. I miss chucks mistress. I am mad and still love the crazy bitch. I don’t know why I need my ego stroked by these other women. This isn’t me. This shouldn’t be me.
Then my mind goes back to the pain and the trauma. My mind finds a way to allow him grace and forgiveness because I understand feeding your ego with sex and attention. My mind assured him this isn’t him long term. That these are traumatic responses trying to navigate the story he’s telling himself. It’s how he is needing to understand the pain and deception. He is walking and acting like the thing that hurt him most in the world trying to understand it because he needs closure and he can’t get that from her. She isn’t confessing her sins and explaining her past and pain to him. She isn’t begging for forgiveness and offering changes. Honest looks at who she is and why she hurts the men who love her. She isn’t examining her patterns. So he is becoming them in an effort to repair his broken psyche. His broken heart and his shattered ego.
I know this well and I keep thinking this is a season. The shame you feel from lying to me and cheating on me. The heartbreak you feel by hurting me the same way you have been hurt - it means you aren’t a monster. The lies are because you can’t even face how bad you are going against every fiber of your being. The lies aren’t to protect me, so I don’t know you fucked this older women in her million dollars mansion you were “bidding”. The lies are because you can’t even face that you woke up at my house made love to me, told me you loved me, kissed me good bye, and went to work - that I spent hours of my day helping you with. Running errands. Running projects. Picking up things. Installing chandeliers. Cleaning up after sink installs. Finding parts and holding fans and keeping you focused and on task. That in the middle of that day - looking at the TRR bid - you fucked some other bitch behind my back.
I should clarify - I don’t know that he did. He hasn’t admitted it. He’s a horrible liar with a tell. He stays silent when I’m right. He doesn’t defend himself. If forced to answer directly he says no. But it’s not true. Now the when, the how, the how long, it’s speculation based in the massive amount of time we spend together and how long this cougar has been in his life. A week maybe two. It’s gaging her response to finding out about me. It’s more than some flirty texts. It’s more than a kiss or a drink. Women don’t just freak out for no reason.
So he is lying to me and I’m devastated. This man, although I knew he wasn’t truly ready. I thought he was a really good one. I thought he loved Jesus and loved people. I thought his promise to be careful with my heart as he navigated his own pain was real. I believed him when he cried and wanted all of this to be real. Wanted to believe I was who he thought I was. I read his actions. Buying a new truck for his business and giving his suburban while I was stressed for a car. Going to Napa and treating me like a princess. I believed the raw openness. In working together - I believed the desire for a future and a partnership with a real person that was fun and easy. I believed him and in less than a week he has wrecked us.
He has stripped me of all security. He has told me he doesn’t trust himself. He isn’t even processing pain at this point; he’s actually creating more. He’s becoming a version of him that he can’t possibly respect. He isn’t in the word. He has some how gotten so far behind in work that he is stressed to the max and I don’t want to leave him hanging. I don’t want to leave him trying to get 6 bids out and working. He let go of his office staff which didn’t help with this much anyway but he kinda needs me and he needs to be able to pay me in hot sex and fancy dinners. While he rebuilds and gets this business back on track.
But man I don’t know how much I can take. I don’t know how crazy I’ll get wondering where he is or who he’s with and reliving sexual encounters at job sites. I don’t know if I can stomach much more of this and that’s ok. He is pretty aware that I don’t have a lot in me. He knows he’s pushing me away. He says I’m everything he WILL want when he’s ready but right now he’s in survival mode and feeding me and investing in us. That’s not something he is capable of to the degree I want or need right now.
Why am I in this?
How did I get here?
Men suck. He sucks. Women suck. Women who break men suck. Men who then turn around and break me suck. This cycle sucks. Why do I feel whole and healed and deserving and I choose fucking brokenness. I’m going to call my therapist.
In fact I know which girlfriends can read this. I am specific. I am intentional. This is the most vulnerable part of me. My writing. I tell you my patterns of behavior here. The way I love. The way I hurt. The way I have ended things or began things of royally fucked things up. This blog has anxiety and fear and life lessons.
So why in the HELL did I send the website to the Handyman? Instant fear. Instant regret.
So he’ll read this. Hi boo! But not just this, all of it. The pattern of older men in my twenties that has only been tweaked slightly in my 30s. The way I have loved and lost and been broken and rebuilt on the heels of one night stands, feeding my shattered ego, broken hearted. How Mr Toilet was the love of my life and the standard I held every man too until a year ago when I finally got the closure I’d been desperately seeking since I was 26. There are high school stories. My first kiss and sexual assault. There are mean girl moments and friendships over in this blog. There are whole years I skip writing because I can’t even face the stories. I didn’t write a single post about my kardashian marriage or the sex addict until it was over. Years I skipped investing in my mental health by processing trauma this way. And now he can read it.
When I said do you want to see my journal, laying in bed last night? The offer came because he was sharing his. He had screenshot some hand written pages about the end of his first marriage and the beginning of dating Chuck’s Mistress. The pain in parts and the excitement of new opportunities to fall in love and find your person. The desire for the partner to build his passions with, it was there. I love the vulnerability he shows me when he shares things like this and I feel the pain when I know he’s facing it.
It only seemed fair to reciprocate. To open up my past and my heart and say here I am. You pretty much know all this but now you can see it in real time. Go back to 2011 and start this journey and see how my type hasn’t really changed. I still date extremely driven, mostly entrepreneurial minded men, older but not by like a decade. I keep it closer to my age. I have the same love language of acts of service and words of affirmation. I recently learned never married and no kids is a lack of life experience I would just prefer not to deal with; so still dads. I also don’t worry about crazy exes any more. I don’t like the drama. If an ex is crazy, I am more likely to ask what did YOU do than to believe she is just off her rocker. I’m someone’s “crazy ex” I’m sure.
See my pattern of men falling in love with me, or at least thinking they do. Explore my fear of not trusting that because I hear it so often. All the things I tell him; he can now read for himself and I somehow will remain this open book mentally processing my fear and experiences for him to see.
I need to wrap my head around some stuff and I truly don’t want to blog about it. I don’t want to write about how disappointing our weekend trip to ski was, or how the tagged posts of him on my page caused drama. It’s easy to explain the part that it gives him anxiety “being in a relationship” in public while still navigating a divorce. I understand that his attorney’s instructions were only posts about work, family, kids. But truly it’s the other woman/or maybe it’s women that he engages in conversation and most recently more with - that he doesn’t want me to find out. He doesn’t want them to know there is a girl he calls his girlfriend. And this weekend - she found me and she did what all women do when they feel wronged. She told me about them in hopes of hurting him back and driving us a part.
The flash back of Facebook and Instagram requests and messages was a hard one. It was a consistent part of my relationship with the sex addict. I can’t tell you how many confessions of wrong doings I had to navigate. How many times i would ask, did you sleep with her? To listen to the “no” and know it was a yes. I can’t count the number of those times I was complicit in being lied to... and here I am again.
The Handyman fell hard and fast. Classic. He fell too soon. Before he has journeyed through healing and processed his pain. He isn’t divorced. He still has his wife’s initial tattooed on his ring finger in a truly white trash way. He is deeply mourning the loss of his forever. The person he thought was his partner for the rest of his life. He’s facing the lies of her infidelity. He’s navigating the pain and trying to understand how someone he loves so much could do so much damage. He’s broken and there are just glimpses of his former self in there and a tiny indication of the way he will emerge from this trauma.
He’s a good one. I know he is. I see it. He loves me well in a lot of ways I really don’t want to lose. We match in passion and language. We communicate calmly and effectively. When facing the hard conversations there is very little fight and mostly a back and forth battle of wits. It’s all I see you, I hear you, I understand how you feel, here is my take on that. Here is my desired outcome of this disagreement. We don’t say hurtful things. We don’t storm away in anger but sometimes take space so that hurtful words aren’t the reaction.
But this trip. This trip broke my heart. It was dramatic and ugly. When he’s asked how was it, the lies just flow out. It was great skiing. Weather was good. House is nice. Blah blah blah.
No I got literally dumped on a mountain when he had to face the lies he was telling me and some recently divorced client he finds “interesting”. He hurt me. He lied to me. Then he skied away from the half way point bar where we were having cocktails. Then he said I don’t want to do this, I can’t be in a relationship when I caught up to him. Then he left me on the mountain as he raced away saying - this is over. I’m done. I want out. Only to text a little later and say I need an hour to calm down. I’ll find you at 4.
He didn’t care that I spent $200 of my single mom salary to be on that mountain. That I didn’t let him pay for my ticket of my skis because he already had paid for my meals and my gas to be there. He didn’t care it wasn’t me that didn’t do anything to him. That I wasn’t yelling, I wasn’t hateful. I was hurt. This man tells me he loves me. Then sometimes he doesn’t - he texts women who feed his ego and then this cougar comes along and god only knows. But she’s convinced he owes her a conversation to save their relationship. She’s convinced he is racing home to see her. And I am fucking devastated.
See the man I fell for and reciprocated the love has a very similar past to mine. He’s been shattered by infidelity. He’s had trust irreparably damages. He’s been the significant other that had his world shaken by lies and deceit. He has felt this pain. So why? How? Could he do this to me. AND more importantly how do I let him?
You see as he tells me I’m going to hurt you. I’m not myself. I love you as best I can and I’m really trying to be who you need and deserve but I’m just not. I miss chucks mistress. I am mad and still love the crazy bitch. I don’t know why I need my ego stroked by these other women. This isn’t me. This shouldn’t be me.
Then my mind goes back to the pain and the trauma. My mind finds a way to allow him grace and forgiveness because I understand feeding your ego with sex and attention. My mind assured him this isn’t him long term. That these are traumatic responses trying to navigate the story he’s telling himself. It’s how he is needing to understand the pain and deception. He is walking and acting like the thing that hurt him most in the world trying to understand it because he needs closure and he can’t get that from her. She isn’t confessing her sins and explaining her past and pain to him. She isn’t begging for forgiveness and offering changes. Honest looks at who she is and why she hurts the men who love her. She isn’t examining her patterns. So he is becoming them in an effort to repair his broken psyche. His broken heart and his shattered ego.
I know this well and I keep thinking this is a season. The shame you feel from lying to me and cheating on me. The heartbreak you feel by hurting me the same way you have been hurt - it means you aren’t a monster. The lies are because you can’t even face how bad you are going against every fiber of your being. The lies aren’t to protect me, so I don’t know you fucked this older women in her million dollars mansion you were “bidding”. The lies are because you can’t even face that you woke up at my house made love to me, told me you loved me, kissed me good bye, and went to work - that I spent hours of my day helping you with. Running errands. Running projects. Picking up things. Installing chandeliers. Cleaning up after sink installs. Finding parts and holding fans and keeping you focused and on task. That in the middle of that day - looking at the TRR bid - you fucked some other bitch behind my back.
I should clarify - I don’t know that he did. He hasn’t admitted it. He’s a horrible liar with a tell. He stays silent when I’m right. He doesn’t defend himself. If forced to answer directly he says no. But it’s not true. Now the when, the how, the how long, it’s speculation based in the massive amount of time we spend together and how long this cougar has been in his life. A week maybe two. It’s gaging her response to finding out about me. It’s more than some flirty texts. It’s more than a kiss or a drink. Women don’t just freak out for no reason.
So he is lying to me and I’m devastated. This man, although I knew he wasn’t truly ready. I thought he was a really good one. I thought he loved Jesus and loved people. I thought his promise to be careful with my heart as he navigated his own pain was real. I believed him when he cried and wanted all of this to be real. Wanted to believe I was who he thought I was. I read his actions. Buying a new truck for his business and giving his suburban while I was stressed for a car. Going to Napa and treating me like a princess. I believed the raw openness. In working together - I believed the desire for a future and a partnership with a real person that was fun and easy. I believed him and in less than a week he has wrecked us.
He has stripped me of all security. He has told me he doesn’t trust himself. He isn’t even processing pain at this point; he’s actually creating more. He’s becoming a version of him that he can’t possibly respect. He isn’t in the word. He has some how gotten so far behind in work that he is stressed to the max and I don’t want to leave him hanging. I don’t want to leave him trying to get 6 bids out and working. He let go of his office staff which didn’t help with this much anyway but he kinda needs me and he needs to be able to pay me in hot sex and fancy dinners. While he rebuilds and gets this business back on track.
But man I don’t know how much I can take. I don’t know how crazy I’ll get wondering where he is or who he’s with and reliving sexual encounters at job sites. I don’t know if I can stomach much more of this and that’s ok. He is pretty aware that I don’t have a lot in me. He knows he’s pushing me away. He says I’m everything he WILL want when he’s ready but right now he’s in survival mode and feeding me and investing in us. That’s not something he is capable of to the degree I want or need right now.
Why am I in this?
How did I get here?
Men suck. He sucks. Women suck. Women who break men suck. Men who then turn around and break me suck. This cycle sucks. Why do I feel whole and healed and deserving and I choose fucking brokenness. I’m going to call my therapist.
Monday, January 13, 2020
Love and Loss and Love Again
I AM STRUGGLING WITH THE HANDYMAN OR MAYBE HE IS STRUGGLING WITH ME. His ex is a combination of my last two significant relationships. She’s a narcissistic cheating sociopath with an incessant need for attention and a pattern of behavior he overlooked.
Chuck’s Mistress has wrecked this man. She has taken all of his pieces and made him question everything. Who he is, what he knows, what he wants, what he is capable of. She took from him personally, in business, financially, and almost cost him his children. She’s the devil.
I don’t even call her The Devil maliciously, it’s an accurate description. She is a pretty package. She’s obviously driven or they wouldn’t have built the companies they have and she’s continuing to run them albeit most likely into the ground. She is attractive. Good little figure, fake tits, classic face. She’s a mom. Surely she’s a good one. I feel like good mother can be a relative term, but that a whole other story. She has a lot of “friends” and acquaintances, he says she was so fun with a magnetic personality.
She’s a pretty package but who she is under that; that’s what makes her the devil. You see the devil is a pretty package. In Christian faith we are taught that - you aren’t tempted into sin by things that aren’t attractive. You don’t go against your faith or hurt other people or yourself for something you don’t desire. It’s a pretty hot and tempting package - the devil.
The devil comes to steal, kill, and destroy. Chuck’s mistress may not have set out to do those things but as the temptation for better or more presented itself she went for it. She fed her needs at the expense of others. She fed the wolf inside her that needed men to want her, that weaponized sex, the one that justified her satisfaction at the expense of her promises with, if he doesn’t know it doesn’t hurt. She got to the point where even if he did know it was ok; he wanted her happy. She compartmentalized who she was as a person. Part loving wife and mother; part out right whore and liar.
As you can imagine; I get this. I lived this. I have been broken by this exact thing. She cloaks herself in righteousness, claiming God loves her and being a part of her church. She is a Jesus loving woman that will screw your friends husband.
Enough about her; you get the picture and Devil is an accurate depiction.
I don’t know who The Handyman was before her. I don’t know his patterns or what she used to justify her behavior. He’s a man. He isn’t perfect. I don’t know the trail of broken hearts or the women who fell hard for him that he didn’t reciprocate. I don’t know the dynamic. I know him now.
This kind of betrayal, changes you. It is a humbling experience. It changes your perception of what you should value. You become more concerned about character, loyalty, faith, honesty, trustworthiness than you are about big tits and a good blow job.
So I am getting the raw version of this man. The one that tears up when he feels really loved and connected to me. The one that carries the pain of disappointing and hurting his boys and family. The man that deeply desires a relationship with God and wants that as his foundation. The man that is working hard to rebuild and start over.
He cares for me and calms me. He tries so hard to be what I need and what I want. He hates that his pain and healing isn’t complete. He hates that he is simultaneously getting past her and falling for me.
He runs from me. He gets so worried about hurting me that he pushes me away. He comes back because it’s not like he’s not going to date. So what’s his plan, end things with me and find someone he likes LESS. Date a girl he doesn’t really connect with.
He still gets sad. I know he misses the life he had. The family unit they had created. How could you not. He isn’t a monster.
He asks me why I’m here; why I’m doing this to myself and I don’t have a good answer. I am not trying to fix him. I know I can’t. I have walked this process and it’s something he has to do for himself. I don’t see him as a project, I just see him.
I know their relationship is over. It’s irreparable. I know he is wired for love and connection, that he is vulnerable and some lucky woman will have him and he will love her in the most passionate, selfless way. I know this because I know he loves me. He tells me but more importantly he shows me. So when he asks why am I here? My response is usually because I’m not losing what we have to the memory of Chucks mistress.
I might be totally wrong but I do believe you can build a new relationship on top of the ruins of the last. I read this in an article and I can’t come up with a better way of articulating it “The importance of getting over someone is a myth.” “We should encourage each other to hold on to the good memories.” “It is possible, I think, to have a new relationship that builds on top of the gravelly ruins of the last using the old skills and affection to make the next one better, bigger.” “Good relationships can totally benefit from the reflection and melancholy that comes after heartbreak, and perfect relationships don’t always start at perfect times.”
This man is working to heal. He didn’t mean to find me or to fall in love with me. I don’t know why this is the timing we were given. Our connection is undeniable. Our foundation is healthy. We communicate better than any couple I know. We are open and vulnerable and raw and broken. We don’t have expectations of forever. We don’t have plans for a while life together. We aren’t in a rush. I love him with patience I didn’t know I was capable of, a trust in him that I have never had. He is kind and has a servants heart. He wants to please me and provide and loves my mind and he literally makes me want to be the very best version of myself.
So I’m not giving up this outrageously gorgeous man with kind eyes that are so blue you get lost and rock hard biceps that wrap around me. The softest lips and the most passionate kisses that melt me. That walks from the bed to the bathroom and looks like a Greek god. With a heart of gold that wants me healthy and happy and does whatever he can for me. He tells me everything even the parts that might hurt because he doesn’t ever want to lie to me. This man prays over me. He spoils my daughter and spends time with us. He’s happy to have me around his parents and is patiently waiting for the day when it’s appropriate to have me around his kids.
I’m not giving up on this man that checks all my boxes and makes me want to be the most loving patient person on the planet. He brings out the best in me. I’m not losing him to the memory of chucks mistress. A life that doesn’t exist and a person that was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. I’ll wait. I’ll hold his hand and kiss his neck and keep him calm and wait. I’ll slowly build with him the foundation of our future taking the good bricks from the lessons learned and throwing out the broken.
I waited 36 years for a man that prayed over my days. I can wait a little more.
Chuck’s Mistress has wrecked this man. She has taken all of his pieces and made him question everything. Who he is, what he knows, what he wants, what he is capable of. She took from him personally, in business, financially, and almost cost him his children. She’s the devil.
I don’t even call her The Devil maliciously, it’s an accurate description. She is a pretty package. She’s obviously driven or they wouldn’t have built the companies they have and she’s continuing to run them albeit most likely into the ground. She is attractive. Good little figure, fake tits, classic face. She’s a mom. Surely she’s a good one. I feel like good mother can be a relative term, but that a whole other story. She has a lot of “friends” and acquaintances, he says she was so fun with a magnetic personality.
She’s a pretty package but who she is under that; that’s what makes her the devil. You see the devil is a pretty package. In Christian faith we are taught that - you aren’t tempted into sin by things that aren’t attractive. You don’t go against your faith or hurt other people or yourself for something you don’t desire. It’s a pretty hot and tempting package - the devil.
The devil comes to steal, kill, and destroy. Chuck’s mistress may not have set out to do those things but as the temptation for better or more presented itself she went for it. She fed her needs at the expense of others. She fed the wolf inside her that needed men to want her, that weaponized sex, the one that justified her satisfaction at the expense of her promises with, if he doesn’t know it doesn’t hurt. She got to the point where even if he did know it was ok; he wanted her happy. She compartmentalized who she was as a person. Part loving wife and mother; part out right whore and liar.
As you can imagine; I get this. I lived this. I have been broken by this exact thing. She cloaks herself in righteousness, claiming God loves her and being a part of her church. She is a Jesus loving woman that will screw your friends husband.
Enough about her; you get the picture and Devil is an accurate depiction.
I don’t know who The Handyman was before her. I don’t know his patterns or what she used to justify her behavior. He’s a man. He isn’t perfect. I don’t know the trail of broken hearts or the women who fell hard for him that he didn’t reciprocate. I don’t know the dynamic. I know him now.
This kind of betrayal, changes you. It is a humbling experience. It changes your perception of what you should value. You become more concerned about character, loyalty, faith, honesty, trustworthiness than you are about big tits and a good blow job.
So I am getting the raw version of this man. The one that tears up when he feels really loved and connected to me. The one that carries the pain of disappointing and hurting his boys and family. The man that deeply desires a relationship with God and wants that as his foundation. The man that is working hard to rebuild and start over.
He cares for me and calms me. He tries so hard to be what I need and what I want. He hates that his pain and healing isn’t complete. He hates that he is simultaneously getting past her and falling for me.
He runs from me. He gets so worried about hurting me that he pushes me away. He comes back because it’s not like he’s not going to date. So what’s his plan, end things with me and find someone he likes LESS. Date a girl he doesn’t really connect with.
He still gets sad. I know he misses the life he had. The family unit they had created. How could you not. He isn’t a monster.
He asks me why I’m here; why I’m doing this to myself and I don’t have a good answer. I am not trying to fix him. I know I can’t. I have walked this process and it’s something he has to do for himself. I don’t see him as a project, I just see him.
I know their relationship is over. It’s irreparable. I know he is wired for love and connection, that he is vulnerable and some lucky woman will have him and he will love her in the most passionate, selfless way. I know this because I know he loves me. He tells me but more importantly he shows me. So when he asks why am I here? My response is usually because I’m not losing what we have to the memory of Chucks mistress.
I might be totally wrong but I do believe you can build a new relationship on top of the ruins of the last. I read this in an article and I can’t come up with a better way of articulating it “The importance of getting over someone is a myth.” “We should encourage each other to hold on to the good memories.” “It is possible, I think, to have a new relationship that builds on top of the gravelly ruins of the last using the old skills and affection to make the next one better, bigger.” “Good relationships can totally benefit from the reflection and melancholy that comes after heartbreak, and perfect relationships don’t always start at perfect times.”
This man is working to heal. He didn’t mean to find me or to fall in love with me. I don’t know why this is the timing we were given. Our connection is undeniable. Our foundation is healthy. We communicate better than any couple I know. We are open and vulnerable and raw and broken. We don’t have expectations of forever. We don’t have plans for a while life together. We aren’t in a rush. I love him with patience I didn’t know I was capable of, a trust in him that I have never had. He is kind and has a servants heart. He wants to please me and provide and loves my mind and he literally makes me want to be the very best version of myself.
So I’m not giving up this outrageously gorgeous man with kind eyes that are so blue you get lost and rock hard biceps that wrap around me. The softest lips and the most passionate kisses that melt me. That walks from the bed to the bathroom and looks like a Greek god. With a heart of gold that wants me healthy and happy and does whatever he can for me. He tells me everything even the parts that might hurt because he doesn’t ever want to lie to me. This man prays over me. He spoils my daughter and spends time with us. He’s happy to have me around his parents and is patiently waiting for the day when it’s appropriate to have me around his kids.
I’m not giving up on this man that checks all my boxes and makes me want to be the most loving patient person on the planet. He brings out the best in me. I’m not losing him to the memory of chucks mistress. A life that doesn’t exist and a person that was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. I’ll wait. I’ll hold his hand and kiss his neck and keep him calm and wait. I’ll slowly build with him the foundation of our future taking the good bricks from the lessons learned and throwing out the broken.
I waited 36 years for a man that prayed over my days. I can wait a little more.
The Constant Process
I REMEMBER VIVIDLY WHEN MY EX HUSBAND LEFT ME. I remember the process of grief. The absolute psychotic outbursts. The showing up to his office and telling him I will sit here and wait until you come talk to me. The crying in the car as I begged him to give our BRAND NEW marriage a chance.
I was a kind of devastated I never imagined. A lost, broken shell of a woman. I was angry. I wanted to know why? Why make me fall in love with you. Why promise me forever. Why propose on Valentine’s Day with a private dinner on a beach in Cabo with the ring of my dreams; tears streaming down both our eyes with such detail you even had specifically found a way to buy me the dress I was wearing for the occasion. Why take this whole, healed badass of a woman and break her.
When I met Mr. Greaseman my career in telecom had just taken off. I was about to hit my first 6 figure year. I had the most adorable house in a neighborhood I loved. I had a group of friends I adored and I was dating. I was put together. He found me, he fell in love quick. He wanted to give me the world. We moved in, got engaged, eloped and had a beautiful wedding. Bought the house of my dreams and moved in 10 days before Christmas. I had us completely unpacked and hosting our families for the holidays. He was my forever. We had it all. Good friends, a lake house, nice cars, a boat, lots of trips and I thought we were happy.
Sure sex in his office at lunch had stopped and we had stress. We dumped all of savings into my ring, the two houses, and our new boat. His ex wife wasn’t easy to deal with and his daughter was in constant competition with mine and with me over daddy’s love. But it never felt like we had major problems but then again, I was in charge and had everything I ever wanted.
I warned him about his assistant. I warned him about the girl who saw the name on the door and wanted it. I warned him about protecting our marriage in moments of weakness, not giving another woman the tools to come between us. Not emotionally confiding in another to fix what I didn’t even know was broken. I warned him about her the very day I met her.
I was right. He failed me. He failed to protect our sacred vows. He failed to communicate with me. When he felt broken, emasculated and not worthy, he didn’t talk to me - he talked to her. I couldn’t compete with the bond of a women exacerbating my errors and fixing my mistakes. Giving him what I use to and without realizing it; no longer did.
He left me. Shattered. A virtually suicidal shell of a woman that didn’t know how to recover from the man she waited her whole life for. I didn’t rush into this; I’d been single and dating for 8 years. I had 2 years of therapy under my belt dealing with my issues. I had done the work on me. I had a really healthy past relationship that ended and we had remained friends. I was ready.
The pain was unbearable and here I am 5 years later two blocks away from the dream house he bought me that another woman calls hers; and I still think about him. I don’t usually let my mind process the good that was in those years. I don’t let myself focus on the bad. I have fleeting moments that I push away. But when I think about him, I think about what I learned, the mistakes I made, and how it changed me as a person.
I learned how to be a wife from him. I may not have learned it until it was too late but my subsequent relationship benefitted from my ability to be a partner. I learned not to take but how to give. I learned how to be thankful for another person showing up for me and not expecting or demanding that of them. I learned how to make a man feel like a man. I learned the art of not correcting him, not belittling, not pointing out his flaws and fixing him.
I can see where the broken person I was put me in the path of my next toxic love affair. I see how I stayed with the sex addict for 3 years. I know why I didn’t walk away two months in because I wanted to be in love and have a life with someone. I wanted to prove I was worthy. I needed my ex to see someone else wanted me even if he didn’t.
In that relationship I learned patience, forgiveness, and how to set healthy boundaries. I learned how to be a really good step mother. How to know my roll and stay in my lane. How to love a little shit of a teenager through the years she didn’t even like me much until I became a person she could heavily rely on and wanted in her life. I put myself back together again in the next relationship. He dealt with tears and pain and me ending it on an almost weekly basis. He handled my angry outburst. He inflicted a new kind of damage on me but I was a willing participant.
He ended up not being a good investment long term and I didn’t stick around. Those boundaries I learned I put into practice. The character flaws I saw, I knew to look for something different.
In the year and a half following that relationship, I dated without much purpose. Or maybe with an evolving purpose. At first I wanted security again. I needed a worthy partner because this single mom stuff alone is terrifying. I don’t think it was a conscious way of dating but I can look at it now and say it was definitely what was happening.
The first guy I met was good. He is a good man. He tried hard. He was being patient and saw my potential and he wanted a life with me. I toyed with him. I strung him along, dated other people, told him I wasn’t ready, told him I was, ghosted him, came back, I messed with him until he disappeared. He’s such a good guy though if I text him right now he would greet that with compassion and understanding.
The next couple were similar. Good good guys. Liked me. I was a flighty mess. Processing my pain and just needing attention. I was taking from them. Then Mr AF1 came in - brilliant and promising the world. The “security” I thought I was looking for. After the closure of that train wreck - really putting my new found boundary skills into place. I wanted to try and fix things with joe.
Joe and I made a good pair. Although I over looked a couple of warning signs and to this day will never know if the warnings were giant red flags or just personality differences. He tested the waters, assured himself he could have me back and then let me go. I deserved that.
Then the fireman - best man I’ve dated in years. Not my person but an amazing guy. Mr toilet popped back up into my life and the universe gave me closure I had been desperately seeking for a decade. The world traveler showed me the same thing the fireman did in a different way: it doesn’t have to be forever and it’s ok if it doesn’t work.
Now the Handyman. He checks all my boxes (except height, LOL) but I went back to the blog post from July in between the fireman and the world traveler where I wrote down exactly what I wanted and it’s him. It’s totally him.
We have a whole new set of obstacles to overcome. He’s in a place very similar to where I was when Mr. Greaseman left me in pieces. I’m a lot better of a person to build a foundation with than my sex addict ex. It might be stupid but I’m giving it a chance. He could easily hurt me but I don’t know that he will and he is so very worth the risk.
I was a kind of devastated I never imagined. A lost, broken shell of a woman. I was angry. I wanted to know why? Why make me fall in love with you. Why promise me forever. Why propose on Valentine’s Day with a private dinner on a beach in Cabo with the ring of my dreams; tears streaming down both our eyes with such detail you even had specifically found a way to buy me the dress I was wearing for the occasion. Why take this whole, healed badass of a woman and break her.
When I met Mr. Greaseman my career in telecom had just taken off. I was about to hit my first 6 figure year. I had the most adorable house in a neighborhood I loved. I had a group of friends I adored and I was dating. I was put together. He found me, he fell in love quick. He wanted to give me the world. We moved in, got engaged, eloped and had a beautiful wedding. Bought the house of my dreams and moved in 10 days before Christmas. I had us completely unpacked and hosting our families for the holidays. He was my forever. We had it all. Good friends, a lake house, nice cars, a boat, lots of trips and I thought we were happy.
Sure sex in his office at lunch had stopped and we had stress. We dumped all of savings into my ring, the two houses, and our new boat. His ex wife wasn’t easy to deal with and his daughter was in constant competition with mine and with me over daddy’s love. But it never felt like we had major problems but then again, I was in charge and had everything I ever wanted.
I warned him about his assistant. I warned him about the girl who saw the name on the door and wanted it. I warned him about protecting our marriage in moments of weakness, not giving another woman the tools to come between us. Not emotionally confiding in another to fix what I didn’t even know was broken. I warned him about her the very day I met her.
I was right. He failed me. He failed to protect our sacred vows. He failed to communicate with me. When he felt broken, emasculated and not worthy, he didn’t talk to me - he talked to her. I couldn’t compete with the bond of a women exacerbating my errors and fixing my mistakes. Giving him what I use to and without realizing it; no longer did.
He left me. Shattered. A virtually suicidal shell of a woman that didn’t know how to recover from the man she waited her whole life for. I didn’t rush into this; I’d been single and dating for 8 years. I had 2 years of therapy under my belt dealing with my issues. I had done the work on me. I had a really healthy past relationship that ended and we had remained friends. I was ready.
The pain was unbearable and here I am 5 years later two blocks away from the dream house he bought me that another woman calls hers; and I still think about him. I don’t usually let my mind process the good that was in those years. I don’t let myself focus on the bad. I have fleeting moments that I push away. But when I think about him, I think about what I learned, the mistakes I made, and how it changed me as a person.
I learned how to be a wife from him. I may not have learned it until it was too late but my subsequent relationship benefitted from my ability to be a partner. I learned not to take but how to give. I learned how to be thankful for another person showing up for me and not expecting or demanding that of them. I learned how to make a man feel like a man. I learned the art of not correcting him, not belittling, not pointing out his flaws and fixing him.
I can see where the broken person I was put me in the path of my next toxic love affair. I see how I stayed with the sex addict for 3 years. I know why I didn’t walk away two months in because I wanted to be in love and have a life with someone. I wanted to prove I was worthy. I needed my ex to see someone else wanted me even if he didn’t.
In that relationship I learned patience, forgiveness, and how to set healthy boundaries. I learned how to be a really good step mother. How to know my roll and stay in my lane. How to love a little shit of a teenager through the years she didn’t even like me much until I became a person she could heavily rely on and wanted in her life. I put myself back together again in the next relationship. He dealt with tears and pain and me ending it on an almost weekly basis. He handled my angry outburst. He inflicted a new kind of damage on me but I was a willing participant.
He ended up not being a good investment long term and I didn’t stick around. Those boundaries I learned I put into practice. The character flaws I saw, I knew to look for something different.
In the year and a half following that relationship, I dated without much purpose. Or maybe with an evolving purpose. At first I wanted security again. I needed a worthy partner because this single mom stuff alone is terrifying. I don’t think it was a conscious way of dating but I can look at it now and say it was definitely what was happening.
The first guy I met was good. He is a good man. He tried hard. He was being patient and saw my potential and he wanted a life with me. I toyed with him. I strung him along, dated other people, told him I wasn’t ready, told him I was, ghosted him, came back, I messed with him until he disappeared. He’s such a good guy though if I text him right now he would greet that with compassion and understanding.
The next couple were similar. Good good guys. Liked me. I was a flighty mess. Processing my pain and just needing attention. I was taking from them. Then Mr AF1 came in - brilliant and promising the world. The “security” I thought I was looking for. After the closure of that train wreck - really putting my new found boundary skills into place. I wanted to try and fix things with joe.
Joe and I made a good pair. Although I over looked a couple of warning signs and to this day will never know if the warnings were giant red flags or just personality differences. He tested the waters, assured himself he could have me back and then let me go. I deserved that.
Then the fireman - best man I’ve dated in years. Not my person but an amazing guy. Mr toilet popped back up into my life and the universe gave me closure I had been desperately seeking for a decade. The world traveler showed me the same thing the fireman did in a different way: it doesn’t have to be forever and it’s ok if it doesn’t work.
Now the Handyman. He checks all my boxes (except height, LOL) but I went back to the blog post from July in between the fireman and the world traveler where I wrote down exactly what I wanted and it’s him. It’s totally him.
We have a whole new set of obstacles to overcome. He’s in a place very similar to where I was when Mr. Greaseman left me in pieces. I’m a lot better of a person to build a foundation with than my sex addict ex. It might be stupid but I’m giving it a chance. He could easily hurt me but I don’t know that he will and he is so very worth the risk.
Wednesday, January 1, 2020
Pay Attention to ME!!!
YOU KNOW WHEN YOU’RE IN A NEW RELATIONSHIP AND YOU’RE ALL
EXCITED AND YOU CAN’T GET ENOUGH OF EACH OTHER.... I’m there. Handyman is skiing. I’m driving him f*cking nuts I am sure.
I always laugh at myself because I give the best advice while dating. If you give me a scenario, I can read both sides and tell you with some pretty impressive accuracy what you should do to achieve your desired outcome of NOT making this man want to run for this hills. BUT in my own relationships. Not so much.
Here is the problem. I do really well when I am just not that into a man. If I’m swiping right and talking to one or a few, I can usually gain the attention of who I’m most interested in by not paying enough attention to him.
Seriously. This is the messed up way men and women work... a man likes this elusive creature unlike any other. The chase. The game. The not too easy, not unattainable either. The balance of being interested but not too interested. Women basically have to talk to someone else to keep from getting too excited and attached to the man they actually like so they play this elusive creature role perfectly with detachment.
For example... last spring I was dating this guy for a couple months. He was a tumultuous liar with an amazing knack for drawing me back in every time I shut him down. Let’s call him AirFirceOne. So AF1 was charming and brilliant, charismatic and successful. He was also manipulative and controlling, a gaslighting narcissist with borderline personality disorder and an entirely false reality in which he pretended to live AND his ass was married.
Married?!? Yes. MARRIED. How did I miss this you might ask? Wellllllll in hindsight, I probably knew. I joked about his schedule and how he would make plans and break them. Always had an excuse for everything. I literally said at one point, this sounds a lot more like you have a wife at home than a work emergency. A kid emergency. A whatever else came up... I say he was brilliant because not many men can lie and maintain the stories he did. He was a literal sociopath and i experienced some of the most insane gaslighting and manipulative behavior I have ever seen.
Now the fucked up part is I saw it happening and I participated. Like the movie was playing out in front of me and I watched myself play my roll. It was almost a battle of wits. I was proving myself right. I was proving he wasn’t what he claimed to be and he was a lying cheating married man. I went back and forth and I took from him. He took from me and I took from him. He played on my compassion and empathy and any time I was done with the game, and I called it a game, he had some medical emergency. He was near death or dying or something insanely tragic was happening which took over the narrative and drew me back in.
It all culminated one night I told him I was done with his game and I didn’t care anymore what happened. That he had emotionally bruised me and used me enough like a puppet and I was over it. I said you win. The game is over and you won. I’m done.
That night he had an utter meltdown and the following weeks it continued. He went so far as to call me from 8 different numbers and leave his fake suicide on my voicemail. Yes. The man shot a gun and acted like he killed himself because of me. You want to talk about some violent terrifying mental problems this guy had them.
But before all that...
Somewhere in the middle of this few months of hell when I had ended things and he was still trying to hold my attention: I started dating again. I met this tall, successful, super fun man. Our first date was a blast. We will call him Joe, Average Joe.
Joe was reckless and spontaneous but still stable and controlled. Our first date started a joke about running off to Vegas and about a month in he was telling me he loved me. I like joe. I bet I could have fallen for joe. The reason he fell for me was because I was available but not overly available. I was busy. I was raising my kid, taking vacations, and texting him when I had a second. He spent the first several weeks not even hearing from me daily. Then he’d have these like sad little moments where he’d back off and I’d draw him back in... he liked the chase. I could read that in after about a month I let him catch me.
All was well and good but I still had this psycho in my phone nonstop trying to get me to see him to talk to him to give him anything and I don’t know what was wrong with me but I kept answering. Now AF1 was an astute reader of people. He knew I was seeing someone and I was slipping away. So he developed a new kind of crazy.
I don’t know how he even figured out who I was seeing but he got enough entail on him to create a believable narrative that I needed to protect my daughter from this man. That he was a sexual predator with a pension for teenage girls. That he would be grooming my Impressionable teenage girl. This worked for two reasons: one, plant that seed of doubt and I can’t ever feel safe and secure and not wonder, and should something ever happen and it be a real concern - I would never forgive myself. And the second reason, old joe was a little different in the bedroom.
He was hot and knew what he was doing but he had confessed a past history in an unhealthy relationship where they were basically swingers. Sought out threesomes and what not. Which makes me insanely uncomfortable. The other thing is hours and hours of foreplay and sex and this guy never ever finished. So before this horrific terrifying seed of doubt was planted I already had this suspicion something wasn’t quite right with him sexually.
Date a sex addict for 3 years and you will learn a lot about how men rewire the pleasure centers in their brains. That finding fulfillment in porn and casual sex with a stranger or hookers, or whatever it is. They can change how they are neurobiologically wired to feel pleasure and understand intimacy. A man who can’t finish in sex with a women they are emotionally bonded to - well they aren’t really that bonded because the orgasmic neurological response isn’t happening that releases the hormones that are literally referred to as “bonding chemicals”. But also something isn’t right. Might be a health issue. It’s usually a brain issue... don’t even get me started on the dangers of porn for adolescent boys.
So this crazy ass saying, you need to watch the man you are seeing around your daughter was enough for me to pull back. Granted I didn’t really believe it but he told a good story and there was enough in play to make me worry. But two months later he tries to kill himself on my voicemail and his wife calls me - so I can safely say old Joe. Not a pedophile but still not my person.
Alright.... before we bring this all back to the present can we all take a second to acknowledge that dating in 2019 was fucking nuts. Like I mean that shit played out like a law and order svu episode. It was insane. I should really be a lifetime movie writer. But I digress.
Back to the handyman... I am having to consciously slow my ever loving roll. I am not playing it cool AT ALL. There is no elusiveness. I want to blow him up and know what he is doing all the time. It’s not a control or fear thing it’s an attachment thing. I’m like so interested in his happiness and what he’s doing. I’m like hey. I love you. Hey. Whatcha doin? Hey. How are the slopes. Hey. How’s skiing with dad. Hi. Hi. Hi. Hi. Ohhhh look what I read. I thought of you. Here is the depth of my overly analytical mind for you to enjoy when you have time... ok call me later.
And saying all this makes me laugh but it’s so damn accurate of what the last two days have been like. I have zero chill. This man is going to be like babe. I love you. You need a hobby.
I’m not usually like this. It’s the excitement and the giddiness and the newness all at once. It’s our intimate connection and the deep vulnerability we have created. It’s just me. So today. New Year’s Day. He’s skiing with his dad and I’m going to focus on my individual 2020 goals and organize my bathroom.
I promised myself this house would be spotless by the time he got home because I’m sick of living like a sorority girl with my teenage daughter. Plus him gone is a good time to declutter my life. Happy New Year! Don’t go driving the people you love crazy today by smothering them with all your joy and emotions! Cheers!
EXCITED AND YOU CAN’T GET ENOUGH OF EACH OTHER.... I’m there. Handyman is skiing. I’m driving him f*cking nuts I am sure.
I always laugh at myself because I give the best advice while dating. If you give me a scenario, I can read both sides and tell you with some pretty impressive accuracy what you should do to achieve your desired outcome of NOT making this man want to run for this hills. BUT in my own relationships. Not so much.
Here is the problem. I do really well when I am just not that into a man. If I’m swiping right and talking to one or a few, I can usually gain the attention of who I’m most interested in by not paying enough attention to him.
Seriously. This is the messed up way men and women work... a man likes this elusive creature unlike any other. The chase. The game. The not too easy, not unattainable either. The balance of being interested but not too interested. Women basically have to talk to someone else to keep from getting too excited and attached to the man they actually like so they play this elusive creature role perfectly with detachment.
For example... last spring I was dating this guy for a couple months. He was a tumultuous liar with an amazing knack for drawing me back in every time I shut him down. Let’s call him AirFirceOne. So AF1 was charming and brilliant, charismatic and successful. He was also manipulative and controlling, a gaslighting narcissist with borderline personality disorder and an entirely false reality in which he pretended to live AND his ass was married.
Married?!? Yes. MARRIED. How did I miss this you might ask? Wellllllll in hindsight, I probably knew. I joked about his schedule and how he would make plans and break them. Always had an excuse for everything. I literally said at one point, this sounds a lot more like you have a wife at home than a work emergency. A kid emergency. A whatever else came up... I say he was brilliant because not many men can lie and maintain the stories he did. He was a literal sociopath and i experienced some of the most insane gaslighting and manipulative behavior I have ever seen.
Now the fucked up part is I saw it happening and I participated. Like the movie was playing out in front of me and I watched myself play my roll. It was almost a battle of wits. I was proving myself right. I was proving he wasn’t what he claimed to be and he was a lying cheating married man. I went back and forth and I took from him. He took from me and I took from him. He played on my compassion and empathy and any time I was done with the game, and I called it a game, he had some medical emergency. He was near death or dying or something insanely tragic was happening which took over the narrative and drew me back in.
It all culminated one night I told him I was done with his game and I didn’t care anymore what happened. That he had emotionally bruised me and used me enough like a puppet and I was over it. I said you win. The game is over and you won. I’m done.
That night he had an utter meltdown and the following weeks it continued. He went so far as to call me from 8 different numbers and leave his fake suicide on my voicemail. Yes. The man shot a gun and acted like he killed himself because of me. You want to talk about some violent terrifying mental problems this guy had them.
But before all that...
Somewhere in the middle of this few months of hell when I had ended things and he was still trying to hold my attention: I started dating again. I met this tall, successful, super fun man. Our first date was a blast. We will call him Joe, Average Joe.
Joe was reckless and spontaneous but still stable and controlled. Our first date started a joke about running off to Vegas and about a month in he was telling me he loved me. I like joe. I bet I could have fallen for joe. The reason he fell for me was because I was available but not overly available. I was busy. I was raising my kid, taking vacations, and texting him when I had a second. He spent the first several weeks not even hearing from me daily. Then he’d have these like sad little moments where he’d back off and I’d draw him back in... he liked the chase. I could read that in after about a month I let him catch me.
All was well and good but I still had this psycho in my phone nonstop trying to get me to see him to talk to him to give him anything and I don’t know what was wrong with me but I kept answering. Now AF1 was an astute reader of people. He knew I was seeing someone and I was slipping away. So he developed a new kind of crazy.
I don’t know how he even figured out who I was seeing but he got enough entail on him to create a believable narrative that I needed to protect my daughter from this man. That he was a sexual predator with a pension for teenage girls. That he would be grooming my Impressionable teenage girl. This worked for two reasons: one, plant that seed of doubt and I can’t ever feel safe and secure and not wonder, and should something ever happen and it be a real concern - I would never forgive myself. And the second reason, old joe was a little different in the bedroom.
He was hot and knew what he was doing but he had confessed a past history in an unhealthy relationship where they were basically swingers. Sought out threesomes and what not. Which makes me insanely uncomfortable. The other thing is hours and hours of foreplay and sex and this guy never ever finished. So before this horrific terrifying seed of doubt was planted I already had this suspicion something wasn’t quite right with him sexually.
Date a sex addict for 3 years and you will learn a lot about how men rewire the pleasure centers in their brains. That finding fulfillment in porn and casual sex with a stranger or hookers, or whatever it is. They can change how they are neurobiologically wired to feel pleasure and understand intimacy. A man who can’t finish in sex with a women they are emotionally bonded to - well they aren’t really that bonded because the orgasmic neurological response isn’t happening that releases the hormones that are literally referred to as “bonding chemicals”. But also something isn’t right. Might be a health issue. It’s usually a brain issue... don’t even get me started on the dangers of porn for adolescent boys.
So this crazy ass saying, you need to watch the man you are seeing around your daughter was enough for me to pull back. Granted I didn’t really believe it but he told a good story and there was enough in play to make me worry. But two months later he tries to kill himself on my voicemail and his wife calls me - so I can safely say old Joe. Not a pedophile but still not my person.
Alright.... before we bring this all back to the present can we all take a second to acknowledge that dating in 2019 was fucking nuts. Like I mean that shit played out like a law and order svu episode. It was insane. I should really be a lifetime movie writer. But I digress.
Back to the handyman... I am having to consciously slow my ever loving roll. I am not playing it cool AT ALL. There is no elusiveness. I want to blow him up and know what he is doing all the time. It’s not a control or fear thing it’s an attachment thing. I’m like so interested in his happiness and what he’s doing. I’m like hey. I love you. Hey. Whatcha doin? Hey. How are the slopes. Hey. How’s skiing with dad. Hi. Hi. Hi. Hi. Ohhhh look what I read. I thought of you. Here is the depth of my overly analytical mind for you to enjoy when you have time... ok call me later.
And saying all this makes me laugh but it’s so damn accurate of what the last two days have been like. I have zero chill. This man is going to be like babe. I love you. You need a hobby.
I’m not usually like this. It’s the excitement and the giddiness and the newness all at once. It’s our intimate connection and the deep vulnerability we have created. It’s just me. So today. New Year’s Day. He’s skiing with his dad and I’m going to focus on my individual 2020 goals and organize my bathroom.
I promised myself this house would be spotless by the time he got home because I’m sick of living like a sorority girl with my teenage daughter. Plus him gone is a good time to declutter my life. Happy New Year! Don’t go driving the people you love crazy today by smothering them with all your joy and emotions! Cheers!
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