Sunday, September 29, 2013
A good family friend told me once that the dying take a piece of those closest to them when they go, and for these last 11 months I have struggled to find my way back. I’ve spent many days in dark places, had thoughts of just not going on, wanting to just give up. I’m so introverted, and expressing how I feel can be a struggle for me at the best of times – it makes me feel exposed, and vulnerable. But I will try.
So, it was a Saturday night, September 7th, and I’d been here at my new place 6 days. Finally I had my freedom, my independence, and a place for my stuff. The one thing I had been longing to do is go out and listen to live music. I miss that the most about my time in Toronto, as where I was living had a dynamic music scene.
In order to get up the courage though, I needed alittle liquid libation to venture out to the local pub, so I had bought a 6 pack of beer. It had been almost 5 years since I’d gone out to a bar with live music, and so I drank 4 of them, spaced out over a couple hours. How I had longed to just just sit and absorb the atmosphere , and perhaps meet some new people and really just get out of the apartment. Nothing more was planned, intended, or even hoped for.
At some point after I’d arrived, he just materialized at my left, leaning against the bar. Somewhat obvious too, I might add. You see, I’m not so humble as to deny it, I’m not an unattractive woman. So when the women I’d been chatting with left, he took the opportunity, and we started talking.
Thing is, I have to be honest…those 4 beers had gone straight to my head – it certainly doesn’t take much anymore. We talked for a few hours…I had maybe 2 more, perhaps 3. One too many, I suppose. It was enough to make the whole end of that night a complete blur. He left at around 12, maybe 1. Like I said, I was getting alittle drunk. I hate to admit this, but I don’t even remember alot of the stuff we talked about that night.
Even though I’d given him my number (which I might add, I don’t remember doing), Monday when he texts, I was shocked. I had told him Saturday night I didn’t think I was ready for anything serious, but I could just let things take their course and just have some fun. I kept telling myself… just have fun Paula, just have fun. God girl, you need it. You deserve it. Mistake number one.
He had this beautiful orange 2010 Challenger… and he took it out the occasional weekend to local drag strips to compete. It was so loud that often I could barely hear what he was saying. About 8 or 9 days in he took me back to his “bachelor pad”…which was a 2800 sq. foot house in burb-a-hell. Mistake number two.
However, he made me feel alive. I’d felt dead for so long, and it felt good. I was enjoying myself and I don’t think there is anything wrong with that.
The reason I think I put my guard down is that his wife died of cancer 8 years back, I thought because of that he would understand where my head was at. They were married 21 years, and she died at home at 43. We shared that, and therefore I honestly believed he was a good guy. Now, looking back, I really don’t know what his real intentions where. I don’t get any of it. What did he really want?
So this is what happened.
Yesterday, Saturday the 28th, we had made a date. He said he’d text me before hand, and would pick me up at 10am. I admit that this kind of surprised me, as he asked me to go to a local drag strip to watch him compete. This was his thing, a guy thing he did, and I got the impression he liked it that way. Which was cool by me, as I liked to spend Saturday doing my own thing – taking Irish for a long walk, running errands, and just generally a day for me to have some downtime. He had asked me Wednesday of last week if I wanted to go. Why I don’t know…but it sounded fun, and why not? He didn’t have to, I was fine with the way things were, and besides we haven’t known each other that long.
I was nervous…10 comes Saturday morning, 10:30, 11:00….12 o’clock rolls around….nothing. Text him a couple of times. Nothing. Called him at 11 and it went right to voicemail. I think that I’ve been stood up.
I’m in shock, I suppose. Me! Moi? No way. Last time this happened I was 16 years old, and that guy blew me off for a stripper – basically because I wouldn’t have sex with him. Even at 16 I wasn’t that stupid, all this guy wanted was the cherry, and he was not getting it. I mean, the guy was gorgeous, but he seemed to want it too bad and even a 16 I understood what that probably meant. So, I guess that tells me a thing or three about THIS guy. Say it all together now – LOSER.
There I was, all dressed up with no place to go. So in a fit of rage, I grabbed my camera and walked downtown instead. I took my bashed self-esteem out for some air and decided to take a stroll and see all the places I used to know when I lived here before- like the Basilica where GrandpaD’s family went to church, their old house, an old apartment from the early years after my separation. Let me say too, I’d really put some effort into how I looked and, ahem, some of the reactions I got put my self-esteem back up a few notches.
Thats why they say to wait a year, I guess. I thought it was just because you should wait so you don’t transpose the emotions you felt (feel) onto someone else. OR, that you’ll just go out and find someone like that person, and that’s not fair to them. I thought I was past that, but I was wrong.
I guess the wait is also for all those first year anniversaries to pass…first birthdays alone, and to go through all those days and nights and to embrace all those memories, and to let the day they passed away be in the past. It’s not healthy to let someone in who won’t understand, who may take advantage of you, and wound you at a time when you may not be able to handle more crap. Wish I’d listened to that advice. Mistake number three.
This morning as I was laying in bed, staring at the ceiling…trying to get the slamming headache to subside caused from the cold the asshole gave me… all I could hear was Irish scratching. So now Irish has fleas, and my stupid cold I’ve had for 2 weeks is in my sinus’. Fantastic. The sad, grumpy feeling is disabling my ability to sort this all out and think straight. Today I’m going to just stay drugged up, and try to forget, and to coat the place in poison to kill the f’en fleas.
I deleted the 166 message thread of our texts from my phone and deleted his name from my contacts last night around 11PM, so as not to have any temptation to write some scathing, bitter text I’ll regret. I’m weak and too messed up to make any sense anyways.
Dagnamit, and he really did seem like a good guy, no visible hang-ups, addictions, unusual ticks or otherwise. I’d rationalized that he was probably just a wounded soul, much like me, just looking for some companionship. I didn’t see this coming at all.
Now its Sunday and he didn’t even call to apologize, make any excuses or anything. I don’t know what happened. I was just stood up, with no word of explanation or anything.
I atleast deserve some sort of explanation. I still just can’t help wondering though….maybe he’s lying in some hospital bed in a bodycast? Or maybe he’s lying in a coffin? Or maybe he’s just a lying, rotten piece of crap. I have no idea. Maybe I read him all wrong, and this is what he does. Maybe to deal with his loss he just goes out and pounces on unsuspecting females, messes with their head, then blows them off when he’s finished. Maybe he enjoys seeing others feel as bad as he does. Takes all kinds.
Anyways, I’m going for a nice long walk to sort this all out.
Monday, September 30, 2013
I knew I should have told him no, that I wasn’t ready. To just go away. Get lost, vamoosh, move along, nothing to mess around with here. God I’m weak. Wish I hadn’t even gone out that night. Wish I’d just holed up here and then I’d be a hell of alot better off. I had just begun to move out of the dark place of death, into my new life. Wish I had listened to everyone’s advice.
I suppose I just do what I was on my way to doing to begin with, before he sat down on that bar stool, before I let my guard down and decided to take a chance – I’ll walk forward, like I have all along.
If I’m honest with myself, he didn’t fit anyways. I know he didn’t feel comfortable at my place. I live in a bachelor apartment, and have a kitchen, a big living space, a bathroom, and one closet. I don’t have a couch, I instead have a bed with all sorts of pillows to make it look like a daybed, plus of course the antique settee of Grandma’s and a large rattan chair of Tim’s. With the high ceilings and orange walls, my antiques and many scarves give the place a french boudoir/boho chic vibe. I have 2 knives, 2 forks, and 4 spoons… and only because my sister gave me some of hers. I don’t have alot of space, and my objective is not to accommodate anyone but Irish and myself. I’m finally on my way towards where ever the hell it is I’m going, placing one foot in front of the other.
And I didn’t entirely feel comfortable at his place. He lived there with his wife, and even though I have no problem with that, and he’d re-decorated and updated evey room in the house, it felt strange. He was too suburban, and for some reason the whole place had this unsettling feeling of mausoleum. Maybe that was because he hardly spend any time there – and quite frankly I can’t say as I blame him really, I wouldn’t have either. The house was way too ordered and tidy for my liking, and decorated with dark colours and mission oak wood furniture. It reminded me of how I decorated the house my ex-husband and I lived in, with all these dark and dreary colours that looking back I now see as rather depressing. Which wasn’t that surprising since I was very unhappy at the time.
I’m rationalizing, but its not such a bad thing, now with more perspective on it then I had Saturday. It was hard getting together after work, going back here first so I could walk Irish and then back to his place. It was only 20 days, and I saw him as many times as I have fingers. It all really amounts to nothing. He was just a mistake.
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
I keep coming back to something he said that first night we went out, about how he was looking for a caring, loving woman. He’d told me that without any prompting, I might add – then he had quoted some line from a song about beauty being only skin deep. I thought maybe he was lonely too, and fool that I am, I took his words at face value. I was so very very wrong. He just wanted someone to mess around with, then throw off to the side when he was done. What’s clear now is that he may think he wants a caring, loving woman, but he’s not ready for one.
So finally last night after work, I got my answer – Blackberry died, sorry, just got fixed today. Hard when everything is on your phone.
Really? How does one respond to that? Phone dies, and what, legs broken, car outa gas too? Forget where I live? Sitting on the bus ride home after work, I just kept re-reading that, stunned. I’d waited almost 48 hours, for this?
Then the next bit is rather interesting – “Don’t like just showing up at ppls place unannounced [um, we had a date, asshole]. Found attractive when unavailable, got scared when things changed”.
My response at first was…well…more or less THEN WHY THE HECK DID YOU ASK ME? Then I thought to myself “do I really want to see him”? No, I really don’t…so I said Look, just forget it…stay gone.
Geesh. Why did he even ask me to go? His reply was Sorry it didn’t work out with us…I wish you all the best. My response was … U R such a jerk.
Man, I hate texting though, so blawdy cold and impersonal. Far as I know he could have been sitting across the table from some bimbette he’s about to bop, and blowing me off with his thumbs.
I mean, wow. You know, over the last few years I’ve been through enough crap that I really don’t need any more. I’ve had enough from the selfish, immature, bastard, lying, piece of crap version of the male of our species, thank you ever so much. I’m worth a hell of alot more then that. I truly believed because he’d been where I am, that he wouldn’t be a jerk, and, god help me, I TRUSTED HIM. Totally got THAT wrong.
I even got ready early yesterday and went downtown to the library to see if I could find an obit online for him. I mean, I was genuinely worried about him. Prick. However, all I found was his wife’s. This guy must be alot more messed up then I am. Didn’t even have the maturity to be honest and just tell me what was on his mind?
I guess I just wasn’t paying attention, because if I had been, I would have seen that this guy was reliving his youth – having a midlife crisis. The evidence was clear if I’d chose to pay attention to it – 51 year old widower driving around in a fast, loud muscle car, calling a suburb-a-hell 2800 sq. ft. house, a “bachelor pad”? Hello!!?? He’s not looking for a nice, caring woman, or a woman really at all; he’s looking for his teenage fantasy girl, and that is NOT me.
Perhaps I represented something unattainable, and maybe someone like me was out of his range when he was young. Who knows. However, I’m not some immature, stupid flouzy – I’m literate, eclectic, intelligent, attractive and creative. I don’t envy youth, nor do I need to relive my teenage years. I can be perhaps a bit too serious, but I try to balance that with a pinch of spontaneity and frivolousness, when I can.
I guess what I can take away from this is that I’m not as messed up as some are. I’m doing fairly well, in comparison. At least I’m living in the present, and not longing for bygone days, nor am I in denial of my age, maturity and afraid of growing up. I may be scared of what lies ahead, but I’m facing it. I’m strong, passionate and I guess I have my head on alot straighter then I thought. Or, atleast straighter then some.
One thing this whole rotten experience got me to do, is to put away the box I kept at my bedside with Tim’s ashes, and I took off the ring. The ring recently has started to snag on things, and it doesn’t fit any of my fingers anymore; it’s too loose. I said to myself I’d wear it forever, but things change. I don’t know if that is right or wrong, but it seems like the right thing to do right now. After I took it off, and moved that box, it felt as though a heavy weight had been lifted. I love that ring, and I will always love Tim, but, I don’t know, maybe I’ll get it sized and get the one prong that’s lifted fixed.
I had also been sleeping with the blanket Tim had over him when he died. I didn’t have anything else to use when it got cooler this month. The weather has warmed up though again, and I guess it’s time this weekend to go out and find something to keep me warm this fall and winter. I’m not sure what I’m going to do with that blanket.
Wednesday, October 2, 2013
Internet, oh Internet, where fore are thou Internet…I miss it. Finally getting it setup either tomorrow or Friday. WOOT WOOT. The wireless router is sitting here going “blink blink blink”…taunting me. Went downtown Monday, after I’d checked the library computers for obits, and picked it up and gave the local company I decided on the payment and direct deposit form. Decided to use a local, Odynet. Incidently, they were the first internet provider I used, almost 20 years ago now. Many hours were spent back then surfing for new website code I could copy, to use to help me learn how it all worked.
I miss being able to read everyones posts, see what new things everyone is writing, read the news in the morning, checking Facebook. Thank goodness I finally called to get that setup last week.
I am still so very angry, hurt, and bitter. These are the times I wish it was the old days and I could have atleast SLAMMED the phone down after. Can’t do that now or I’ll break the glass. Back in the day I could have heard his voice, and not just had those dry, cold lines to contend with. Not sure what good that would have done me though, truth be told. He still would be just as big a loser, and I would still be just as angry.
Here’s a bit more from that chest of truth – do you know that in all my many diaries I’ve kept since I was a teenager, the one theme that has ran through them? Love. This desire to have and to hold, to love and be loved. Inside of me is this honest, true, loyal person who’s one desire has always been to share my life with someone. I just don’t understand sometimes why it seems to have been so illusive over the years.
We live in this disposable world, and so few out there are willing to do the work necessary to maintain a long term commitment. We are not the sort to just throw things away and upgrade to another newer, glossier model. Growing up at the Homestead, in a house our family has had for over 100 years, all these people I was surrounded by growing up, were loyal and true to their responsibilities and relationships, and I’m proud of that. That’s a large part of what has made me who I am today.
Lately I’ve kept coming back to something an old friend said years ago – “what is for you will not pass you by”. Here’s hoping.
Thursday, October 3rd, 2013
Today is the 5th anniversary of the night I met Tim. 2008 seems like a long time ago. I have these snapshots etched in my mind of that night. I’d been out at an event hosted by HP at this swanky bar. Around 10, after the free drinks stopped, a bunch of us decided to go down to the lakefront to the bars down there. I lived down that way, so I was game. They all wanted to go to some new Tapas bar that had opened, with all it’s loud, thumping tunes, I took a pass and instead decided to stick with my usual bluesy haunt.
I went up to the bar, grabbed my usual libation, and went and sat down. The place was almost deserted, except for Tim and this guy who was one of these local celebrities. That night they had this guy up on stage, strumming away on his 12 string. The guy with Tim I knew from Sunday gigs he did in the afternoon- he was the lead singer in this one-hit wonder from I think the 80′s or 90′s.
I don’t even to this day know what it was about Tim. Something about him just clicked inside me. We just hit it off, and we were together practically every day till the day he died. He moved in with me not even quite two weeks later. It happened that fast.
Now, five years later, sitting here on my own, Irish sprawled out on the carpet from our walk, and … I’ve realized something -all this anger and bitterness towards loser-boy, some of it is misplaced. I can’t help but recognize the signs. I see now I hold some anger still towards Tim.
Anger, along with a generous helping of resentment, and a few shakes of abandonment, makes for a dreary recipe for disaster. How dare he leave me!? How dare he not be here!?Why do I have to do this all alone? I don’t want to be alone.
Last night as I was walking Irish, I realized it. WHAM, it hit me. Why am I feeling so overwhelmed? And what on earth do these feelings have to do with loser-boy? Nothing. It has nothing to do with him.
So, maybe this wasn’t all for nothing. No, I’m not condoning loser-boy, but maybe it has helped me see this clearer. I would have liked to have learned this lesson in a different way, mind you. Don’t need more self-esteem bashing, thank you very much.
I do acknowledge though its better this way. I don’t want to be with someone at all right now; especially not if I’m going to be transitioning all these feelings onto them. I see more clearly that I have all this anger stored up…and until I come to terms with it, and let it wash away, I just can’t even think of dating.
That first night loser-boy and I went out, he mentioned after his wife died he’d gone to this support group, called Wellspring. He said I should check them out. I have no intention, based on him, I’m thinking I’ll take a pass.
Another thing that happened is when I logged on at work to this blog friday of last week, I got a pop-up congratulating me on my 1 year anniversary with WordPress. I’d forgot that I had setup my account in late September of last year, when Tim was still alive. I had foreseen this need to reach out, and I dreamed of finally gaining the courage to write. Well, here I am, one year later – I’m in a completely different place, both mentally, as well as physically. I’ve just begun to tap into this well of words I’ve denied for so long. This has been my support group, and I am so thankful I found this little pocket of cyberspace…it has allowed me the freedom to pour out my heart, share my world, my photographs, and to help me reach out and find like minded souls, some on the same journey as I am.
The person I am today is not the same version I was back one year ago – and this isn’t the final version of me either. This path I’m on has been difficult, yet, I’ve grown from it, not changed I guess so much as become more myself. I’m in a good place now. I’m free, I’ve gained my independence back, and I’m living a life I’ve dreamed of for a long time…what more can I ask for?
I wish none of this had happened though. This world can be such a cruel place, and I’ve had my fill of the nasty side of human nature. I keep asking “why me”? Yeah, well, why not me? The big, bad universe doesn’t care who I am, or how I feel, what I’ve done, who I’ve loved or how I feel. People are selfish, and I’ve just got to learn to understand that. People are not always how they appear, and for my own good I need to be more careful. There are alot of people out there who just don’t really care, and recent experience has taught me that there are those who really don’t care who they hurt.
This sadness I feel right now is not just about this loser-boy, most of these feeling are not even just about Tim. The thing is, I trusted both of them, and one way or another I was let down. I honestly believed this time I had found a good guy, and come what may, being a good guy I believed he wouldn’t hurt me.
There is another lesson in this, that I trust too easily. I was enjoying myself, and while it lasted, it felt good to have something new to look forward to. It was all an illusion though…smoke and mirrors. It was all a mistake, and I was a fool to ever let him in. I was a fool to trust in him. You can bet I won’t be doing that anytime soon.
I recognize that no one else but me is able to make my life better. No one else can change things. Life just is what it is. We do what we can, make our mistakes, and try to move on from it. There will be those who care, and those who just don’t. There will be liars and freaks, and all manner of selfish, crass individuals that I will come upon in this thing called my life. I will try to avoid them, but I suppose it may be impossible to avoid them all. Maybe once in a while I’ll meet a good hearted soul, and for that I will be most grateful…as they are a rare breed.