Tag: love

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Dear Alison…you would have been 44 today

You’re the girl I’ve always loved, that’s all I know.

Him: Was mommy sad?
Me: (long pause, sigh) She was sad she had to leave me, but heartbroken that she had to leave you. She cried for an entire day.
Him: How did…
Me: (interrupting) I’m sorry, kiddo. I…I can’t talk about it for so long just yet. Is that OK?
Him: (nodding) That’s ok, papa. It’s ok. (gives me a hug)

Hi, Pretty Lady!

You would be 44 this year. That blows my mind.

Instead, you’re forever young.

I’m getting older – with a LOT more grey in my hair.

Only you would have noticed, though. I’ve been shaving a lot more because that salt-and-pepper beard of mine you used to love is essentially mostly salt these days.

I’m ever so vain. You’d probably say, “That’s my old man!”

And I would pretend to be offended but secretly amused because I knew you loved me.

The boy’s just amazing. He’s everything we ever dreamed of and so much more.

Can’t tell you how many times a day I wish you were here to hear him say something hilarious or sing something beautifully. Or see his perfect handwriting (obviously, he got that from you and not me).

He’s been asking questions about you. I’m always at a loss as to what to say. For years, I’ve told him I’d tell him about you, “someday.”

But, that’s not fair. So, I suck it up and try my best to tell him about you for as long as I can bear.

I’m able to last a bit longer each year.

Each year, it gets a little better. Not because I love you any less, but because I accept this bullshit that is my life and our situation all that much more.

For now, I often just tell him that, She’s the girl I’ve always loved, that’s all I know.

It’s Mother’s Day on Sunday.

The boy made you a gift but says he’ll give it to your mom instead because you loved her so much. He does too.

But it a special kinda painful that your birthday, Mother’s Day, and the day you died are all within two weeks of each other.

It’s a special kinda fucked-up but, then again, this whole situation is a special kinda fucked-up, which is on-brand for us.

I was going to write so much more but, like when I talk about you to the boy, I just don’t have the stamina for it yet.

I’m so grateful for the gift you gave me of the boy, honey. He’s just perfect and I am humbled every day to have your treasure to love.

I’ll be better next year, promise.

Always,

The Hubs

Location: buying him a slice of pizza at 4:58PM on Amsterdam
Mood: crushed
Music: Feels like a million miles away, I still see signs of home (Spotify)
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Kintsugi: The tenacity of the broken

Nothing gold seems to stay

Read yesterday that scientists discovered that a humpback whale named Moon that they’ve been tracking for a decade had broken her spine.

For 10 years, they followed her from Canada to Hawaii – 3,000 miles – something she had to do for food and to teach her calf how to do the same.

Sometime recently, a ship hit her and broke her spine, dooming her.

There’s no question she’ll die, it’s just how long she’ll survive in excruciating pain.

But she longs to live. So, she swam the same path she always swam – except upside down and in pain and a broken tail.

She swam 3,000 miles doing the breaststroke.

Look how broken she is, yet I find her beautiful, nonetheless. I’ve always found people and things that struggle and scuffle against their fate, beautiful.

She’s going to die and I wonder if she knows.

I’ve long said that females seem stronger than males in many regards.

The stories I’ve read about Moon aren’t clear if she made this last trip with her calf or not but I wouldn’t be surprised.

As I said before – and quoting Agatha Christie – A mother’s love for her child is like nothing else in the world. It knows no law, no pity. It dares all things, and crushes down, remorselessly, all that stands in its path.

It dares all things.

Including swimming upside-down for 3,000 miles with a broken back and tail.

Have you ever heard of kintsugi?

It the Japanese art of repairing broken things with melted gold.

Essentially things like pottery bowls are put back together with melted gold and the result is something beautiful despite its scars.

I always thought Alison was so beautiful, despite all she’d gone through.

There’s something beautiful about tenacity, especially when it’s driven by love.

Me: They thought I was 35.
Him: Were they white? It doesn’t count unless they were Asian.
Me: (laughing) All three were Asian.

I feel myself retreating into my head again. But, I’m remembering things, so I’m not alone.

For better or worse.

My therapist thinks I’ve been making great strides in putting this mess that is my head back together again but I’m not sure.

The rage is better – all the hours at the gym seem to help with that – but I look at my face and don’t recognize myself a lot. And I’m tired.

Three different people from my gym thought I was 35 when I’m really pushing 50. Actually, one guy thought a woman there was the oldest person in the room when I was actually 17 years older than her.

But I wonder what I’d look like without all the trauma from 2014 to, well, today.

I feel those years aged me more than pretty much anything.

This is one of the few good pics I have of me from 2014, with PerfectCircles, at my fave dive bar.

I’m 41 in it but I usually got that I was in my 20s.

And this one is when I actually turned 41.

Me with Abe

This is me with my buddy a few weeks later:
Logan Lo and a buddy on the Staten Island ferry

I’m flattered that people think I look so young but that vain, shallow part of me – which, granted, is pretty sizable – wonders how much younger I woulda looked like without all that fucking shit we went through.

Which, of course, is hopelessly stupid and banal considering all that I’ve lost.

But it’s just bonus pain to my grief.

I feel that if Alison were still alive, she’d think that I look great, despite the grey and the scars, both visible and invisible.

Love is blind, after all.

I wonder if I’ll ever meet anyone that thinks I’m great the way she did.

Or am I just so obviously and irreparably broken inside and out, without her or anything else gold to mend me?

It’s an old saying but it weighs at me, that nothing gold seems to stay.

And we’re all on our doomed journeys, some shorter and more tragic than others.

I suppose that, like Moon, there’s not much to do but keep going until the end.

Her: What’s going on?
Me: Well, pour me a drink, darling, and I’ll tell you. But you won’t enjoy the story.
Her: How does it end?
Me: (shrugging) Like most true stories, love: In tears.

Location: earlier today, watching the boy sing Jingle Bells and wishing everything was different
Mood: complex
Music: I’m broken but, I’m ready to feel better. Glue me back together? (Spotify)
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As popular as I was not

Whose kid?

Been baking a ton lately.

The major reason is that the kid – like all kids – loves things like cake, cookies, and pies.

But I don’t want him to have alla the junk and empty carbs that that stuff entails.

So, the only soultion is for me to bake everything. So far, in the last couple of months, I’ve baked:

        • Four pumpkin pies
        • Two chocolate cheesecakes
        • A batch of 60 double-chocolate oatmeal chip cookies
        • A batch of 60 oatmeal chocolate chip cookies
        • Four chocolate cakes
        • Two banana breads (which are just cakes)

Alison was always the baker while I was always the cook but she’s not here so I gotta do this.

It’s a different skillset than cooking but it’s still enjoyable.

It’s always been the cleanup that I hated; that’s what made Alison and me such a great couple – she loved to clean, I loved to cook. It was a good yin-yang.

Now, I do it all, for better or worse. But he’s happy and eating well, and that’s all that matters.

Everything’s made with high-fiber, high-protein flours like carbquick or almond flour, monk-fruit sweetened chocolate chips, oatmeal or nuts, and erythritol or coconut sugar for sweeteners so everything’s actually not-bad for him and some are actually good for him.

But he doesn’t know that, he just knows he likes them.

And I try to play the role I need to play to make sure he keeps wanting more.

Me: How is it?
Him: Sooooo, good. Can I have another?
Me: Well…
Him: Please?!
Me: (mock sighing) Fiiiine, I suppose you can have ONE more.
Him: YAY!

The kid’s ability to be innately social is something I find endlessly fascinating – only because it’s such a foreign thing to me. I’m very social but by design.

He’s just naturally social in a way that Alison and I were not. Not sure where it comes from but, like I said, it’s so interesting to me.

For example, the kid went to a birthday party last week where he met another boy that invited him to another birthday party, which was this past Sunday.

And then he had another birthday party on Friday – in a building that I sued once that went all the way to trial and decision, which is a whole ‘nother story – where yet another boy invited him to a birthday party on Saturday.

One party was at Medieval Times, someplace that Alison always wanted him to go to so I’m grateful for the experience.

Him: I’m hungry.
Me: How is that possible? You just came back from a birthday party at Medieval Times.
Him: (shrugging) I didn’t like the food. I just had the cake.
Me: (stopping everything I was doing) You didn’t like the food?! Whose kid are you?!
Him: YOURS!


Honestly, this kid is as popular and social as I was not at his age.

Not sure how I feel about this but I’m hopeful we can manage it so that he doesn’t make it into a burden nor burn out with it early.

Me: You had THREE birthday parties this weekend. I think that’s as many I’ve gone to my entire childhood.
Him: I know, I’m tired.
Me: (laughing) Awww, poor popular you.

Put up the tree. Finally.

I remembered where every single ornament came from.

I’d forgotten so much and it’s too much to remember all at once. Way too much.

Him: Why are you looking…? (makes a face and stares off into the distance)
Me: I’m just…papa’s in his head again.
Him: Oh. It’s ok, papa.
Me: Thanks, kid.

Location: tonight, covered in flour but happy to see the kid happy
Mood: so. full. of. cake.
Music: got too many friends (Spotify)
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My second colonoscopy

So much different from my first

Got a message from Chad the other night.

Him: [I’ve got the flu.] Would it be possible for you to teach class tomorrow night?
Me: Sorry to hear that. OK.

I’ve actually covered class a couple of times in the past, so that part was fine – kinda fun, I gotta say, because I got to focus on some things that I both really like and need to work on.

What I messed up in, though, was that I scheduled my second colonoscopy for the very next day and had to be up at 5AM doing god-awful stuff to myself.

So, I went in, taught the class, rolled around, and bolted as soon as I could get off the mats and shower.

Her: You did a good job.
Me: You think?
Her: (nodding) That’s one of my favourite moves and you explained it well.
Me: Thanks! That means a lot to me. I appreciate the vote of confidence.

If you’re a long-time reader, you know that I got a colonoscopy almost exactly eight years ago.

Alison made me orange jello.

Don’t remember much about the first time except that she came to pick me up. See, when you have a procedure under anesthesia, you’re required to have someone pick you up.

I remember that Alison took a half-day off from work and came to get me. Didn’t tell you any of that part because it was a such small thing about our day-to-day life.

Had no idea that day that she would be dying less than a year later.

Who the fuck would ever think such a thing?

I didn’t tell you that when she opened the door, she had the widest smile when she saw me.

With the exception of my son, don’t think anyone was ever that happy to see me ever in life.

She thought I was greatest thing and I thought she must have self-esteem issues to think that she couldn’t do better than a fella like me.

Don’t remember what she said when she saw me. I’m sure it was something like, Are you ok, honey?

But I remember that smile. I loved it so.

I remember I was still dazed from the anesthesia and when she came in –  despite our being together for years by that point – thought I was the luckiest guy on the planet that such an important, smart, and pretty girl would take time outta her busy day to pick a nobody like me and make sure I got home ok.

Ah, fuck.

I’ll finish this tomorrow.

I hate the goddamn holidays…

 

Location: home, putting up a Christmas tree and trying to forget things
Mood: sober for now
Music: don’t wanna see what I’ve seen (Spotify)
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A birthday party at the gym

I’ll sing it to you

I texted/emailed the parents of the kids that I knew were coming from the UWS and told them that there were no trains running then took the only train down to Columbus Circle, the stop before the last stop, which was W. 50th.

So did pretty much everyone else on that train.

Columbus Circle was a madhouse.

A complete madhouse.

Could barely make it down the stairs and ended up not being able to get on the first two trains down and caught the third train, the D train.

What I didn’t realize – cause I never take the D train – was that it didn’t stop at 14th Street, instead, I ended up going to W 4th Street, 14 blocks and one avenue from where I needed to be.

Mind you, I’m lugging three enormous bags of toys, food, and miscellany this whole time.

Tried hailing a cab for a few minutes but there were literally none to be found. Not much traffic anywhere at all.

I’m guessing that (a) it being Sunday and (b) the water main break, meant that most people on the west side were stuck wherever they were.

So, with his party scheduled to start in about 30 minutes, I started hustling.

Ran just two blocks when I realized that I was along a bus line and turned around to see if I could see it.

In the first bit of good luck, I saw a bus headed my way so I flagged it down.

Me: (breathlessly) Do you go up to West 18th?
Him: Yeah, way past that.

Sitting down, I looked at the time and saw I only had 25 minutes to set everything up. Like…everything. In fact, I thought the kid and my friend might be there.

It took less than 10 minutes to get to 18th but I leapt off the bus anywho and ran to my gym. I was the first one there – which was good since I had the keys – and quickly started putting everything together – the table, the gift bags, the toys and games, etc.

My buddy that brought his kid and my kid came at 11:50, 10 minutes before the party was to start.

Him: I’m sorry, mate. We ended up hopping a cab and…
Me: No worries. I just got here a few minutes before you.

Since he and his wife brought the food and I set up the table, they set up all the food, while I did the drinks and gift bags.

It was a hurried affair – I later realized that I never set up the piñata nor handed out all these other toys that my MIL set up.

And I was so rushed for the next hours running the party and trying to keep everything running that I didn’t end up taking any pics.

Zero.

Luckily, my friends did, including RE Mike, who showed up with his kid.

Me: Man, I didn’t take any pics…
Him: I took a ton. I’ll send you them.

The kids had a grand time. Essentially, we played two out of the 10 games I planned to play.

Me: I’m think of just letting them run wild around the gym while I day-drink.
Him: I think that’s a better idea than trying to stop them from playing their own games.
Me: Thank god, I’m having a beer…or three.

The guys I ordered the pizzas from were so professional; they were train on time, the pizzas were hot and delicious, and the cupcakes I got the kids were a hit.

Him: You did a really good job, man.
Me: Did I?
Him: (shrugging) No one got hurt, there’s food left over, and the kids are disappointed it’s over. That’s a success.
Me: Sweeeeet.

My buddies took my kid back so I could focus on cleaning up the place.

Seven hours after everything started, I was done.

Me: Did you have a fun time, kid?
Him: Yes! (thinking, sadly) I have to wait a whole ‘nother year before I get another birthday party.
Me: (laughing) Thank goodness for that. (gently) It’ll be here before you know it, kid.
Him: I wish mommy was here. She could sing me “Happy Birthday.”
Me: (sighing) You and me both, kid. You and me both. But, I’ll sing it to you.

Like I said, the hours drag but the years keep sprinting away.

Here’s to the good days, to the bad days
To the breakups and the birthdays
Here’s to the best days, to the worst days
‘Cause I know that [we]’ll be okay

Location: home, heading straight to bed now that I’ve been poked and prodded all day
Mood: fulla food so, fat and happy
Music: You can’t feel the sun without the rain (Spotify)
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Oh wait…I’m me

Well, of course

Speaking of childhood nostalgia, when I was kid, the closest I got to a birthday party was my mom would pick up some Entenmann’s cake, tell me to invite three kids over and we’d have a party for an hour.

They do things differently in 2022 Manhattan.

Here, I go to kids’ birthday parties that are significantly better than anything I have now as an adult. In fact, last year I essentially spent it alone and will most likely do that again this year.

But the kid’s lost enough, I think.

So, I wanted him to have a nice party and planned to have a big thing at my gym with the help of Pez, his regular sitter, my sister-in-law, and my mother-in-law.

Plus…45 kids.

I waaaaaaay over-booked. But I was in it. So, I ordered seven pizzas, a cake, a ton of toys, a ton of games, etc…you get the picture.

Was totally stressed out over it when I got a call from my MIL the night before, who had him that weekend and was gonna bring him over on Sunday.

Her: Well, of course, he has a fever.
Me: What?!
Her: Yeah. 103.
Me: (sighing) Well, of course.

Should mention this pic is my brother taking the temp.

Scrambled to tell all the other parents that bought gifts and were planning the day around this party. Everyone was a sweetheart about the whole thing.

My SIL took care of a lot of it and I felt terrible but she simply said, “Kids get sick, what are you gonna do?”

Of course, the boy was super upset. So, I promised him that I’d throw him some sort of replacement party. There was only one weekend that could possibly work – Sunday, November 20th – and out of 45 kids, eight could make it.

Him: Just eight?!
Me: Kid, I didn’t have eight friends in my life until I was college.

Had way more stuff than necessary but, having said that, what could go wrong?

Oh wait…I’m me.

Wake up that day and bring the kid over to some friends that agreed to bring him and some food down for me so I could haul THREE ginormous bags of stuff to the gym and I hop onto the subway.

Dashing downstairs, I miss a train and wait six minutes for the next train. I hop on and wait.

And wait.

12 minutes later – which, in subway time, might as well be a day – the conductor says, “Because of a burst pipe on Canal Street, there is no downtown service on [this train line].”

Well…of course.

While I decide what to do, the conductor comes on again and says that they’ll go as far as West 50th Street but no further.

And that makes sense because there musta been a billion trains behind us and they had to start getting these trains into stations and people outta the system.

And that’s when a whole new adventure started for me.

Writing this, I realized I have a medical procedure happening this week and I’m also doing stuff in the gym.

I got a lot going on these days…

I should not have opened the Entenmann’s Wiki page.

Man, they discontinued the Apple Strudel, Pineapple Cheese Strudel and fruitcake? Those were amongst my faves.

God, I’m so hungry.

Location: home, just now remembering that I can’t eat for the next 36-48 hours. Shoulda had that pizza.
Mood: so hungry
Music: I ain’t the way you found me, and I’ll never be the same (Spotify)
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Donuts and bruises

Family of two

The pastor wrote me recently about a concert in November but it’s hard for me to plan out my schedule that far in advance.

On that note, I’m reminded that he stopped by with some high-class donuts the other day for some coffee and conversation.

I’m wearing the glove because I had some cuts on my hands for reasons we don’t need to get into.

Gotta say, there was a world of difference between my usual whole wheat donut and these bad boys.

Think I’m gonna have to hit the gym hard again.

Although I did have it with my portable peanut butter because I like to ruin things.

Still, I might have a problem going the gym as much as I want. I’ve had some health issues pop up recently, on top of tearing my meniscus.

The first is that Pac dropped me on my head in a recent Scenic Fights shoot. He was injured and tired and so was I so that wasn’t a good combo as I essentially got pile-driven into the mat.

Thank goodness that we recently just got gifted a crash pad because it woulda been seriously bad without it.

The doc said he didn’t see anything major to be concerned about but did ask me to take it easy.

But then some routine tests came back…weird. Need to run a few more tests to figure it all out.

Of course, there’s always something.

Finally, I’m not the only person in my two-person family with unexpected health issues; the kid was running in an afterschool program in the second week of class and then went face-first into a pipe.

1/2 an inch lower and he coulda lost an eye.

Alison once said that, the night before you become a parent is the last night you get a good night of sleep.

Man, that’s so true.

Him: It hurts!
Me: I know, kid. I’m sorry.
Him: Don’t touch it!
Me: I gotta. I’m sorry.
Him: Noooo!
Me: I need you trust me, ok? Do you trust me?
Him: Yes?
Me: Good enough. Deep breath.

Location: last night ~11PM on 8th St, telling him about sheep, wolves, and lions
Mood: concerned
Music: wish that I could build a world for two (Spotify)
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Two Pizza Joints, an Indian Restaurant, and a Park – Pt 1

Simple things of kindness

Recently, my past came to visit me and I went to visit my past.

Regarding the former, my buddy Ed came into town with his kid the other day. His son’s heading off to NYU this fall as a freshman.

I met him here via my then-girlfriend, the Doctor. He actually ended up living in my building for a spell, which was maybe 20 years ago?

It’s funny, we used to hang out alla time, but we lost touch after he moved back to Cali. My life is a series of endless venn diagrams.

It was such a kick-in-the-head to see him here with his almost-adult son.

Brought them to John’s Pizzeria at Times Square so they could (a) check it out since it’s in an old cathedral and (b) they wanted really good, authentic NYC pizza, which this definitely was.

The last time I went, it was October of 2017 with Gradgirl. She said it was an awful date – it might have been one of our first – and she wasn’t wrong.

Didn’t tell you about that because I was such a mess back then. Not that I’m not still starkers now.

Do think that, if circumstances were different, she and I might have had something. Maybe even a fatty of our own right now.

Fucking cancer is the awful gift that keeps on giving.

On a related note, it’s funny, for a long time, I divided up my life by the women I seriously dated/cared for.

Everything’s been such a mess since…you know…

Everything and everyone just blends together into a soupy, grey, mess.

Anywho, it was nice seeing Ed and his kid. I joked that, despite us being roughly the same age, I had a second-grader while he had a freshman in college.

Me: Give me a buzz if you need anything. I’ve been here my whole life and I’ll probably die here too.
Him: For sure, thanks! (later) Anyplace else we should head to?
Me: (thinking) Go to Hudson Yards. I always loved that place.

As for the latter, and on the topic of ex-girlfriends and my past, that’s a much longer story.

Essentially, I tried to visit an old version of myself but it didn’t pan out – at all – like I’d hoped. Lemme explain:

It all started when I hit up Blond Banker to see if she wanted to catch a show (totally as friends).

She countered with an invite to go to a mixer with some co-workers of hers for a project that she was volunteering for – out in Jersey City.

Her: I’m going to Barcade tonight. You can come to that if you want
Me: Hmm, ok, I’m down! Any particular dress code or just don’t be a schlub?
Her: Just how you’d dress for Barcade.

Since she wasn’t planning on getting there until after 6:30, I slipped into kali for 45 minutes before I hopped the PATH across the river.

On the way there, I sat down next to this one hulking dude and he turned to me and said, That’s a cool tee-shirt, man.

I got two more compliments before I arrived in Jersey City and one more when I was at the bar.

Man, simple things of kindness really make your day, don’t they?

Me: Get home safe, man!
Him: (smiling broadly) Oh, you too!

The last time I went to Grove Street in Jersey City, was May 5th, 2013 – Cinco de Mayo – almost a decade ago.

Alison and I went there for a chili cookoff and we met up with a couple from my old gym. Don’t think I ever saw them again.

Venn diagrams, like I said.

This was almost a decade ago in 2013. I have pictures of alla these randos but not of Alison.

It hurts because I keep thinking, if Alison was alive, I could ask her questions like what did we wear and what was that game we played?

Do you know how many pictures I have of her that day? Zero. Zero fucking pictures, because she didn’t like being photographed.

Sigh.

I’ll pick this up tomorrow. Suddenly got super tired.

Location: tonight, having my arm relentlessly attacked in kali
Mood: thoughtful
Music: God knows it’s not supposed to be easy (Spotify)
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Five years

Don’t you steal it

It’s been five years since my dad died. I’d forgotten, actually, until my sister reminded me.

Being able to forget is a good thing, I think. It hurts a lot less this year than before, because I can see that he lived a good long life, saw his kids get older, and got to meet his grandchildren before he died.

I’ll tell you more stories about him, someday.

Because he lived a life worth living. I loved him and always will.

On completely different note, Chad got injured so I’m going to end up covering three classes this week, including probably our busiest one.

I’m fine with teaching/public speaking, as you know, but the timing’s not the best.

My phone’s been ringing off the hook with work. I can’t possibly take all the work that’s been coming my way but, like I said, it’s nice to know that I’m still valued for my usefulness.

Although I do think I offer some entertainment here and there.

Me: Did you know, every nation on earth wrestles and has a dumpling? So, here’s my idea, a dumpling restaurant where you can pick a nation’s dumplings and then, before or after, wrestle in that nation’s style.
Guy 1: Wait, what about pairings?
Guy 2: Yeah, can you mix and match?
Me: Of course, this is still America.
Guy 3: That’s a cool idea.
Me: Don’t you steal it!

My son’s explaining traffic patterns to me in that pic above.

My dad woulda loved to see how smart and funny this kid is.

Location: earlier today, explaining how to strangle more efficiently
Mood: resigned
Music: That’s how you walk on a tightrope (Spotify)
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I was incandescent

Belonging to someone

My brother, and another friend, once remarked that a lotta the people we’ve casually dated are still friendly with us and I asked him why he thought that was.

Him: (shrugging) We’re useful.

As always, he’s right. He and I have alla these explicit skills (lawyer/doctor) plus rando skills that are useful.

Plus, we both like helping people.

On that note, another woman from my past reached out to me for my legal opinion on something.

Gotta say, it was one of the more interesting legal scenarios I’ve come across…

Me: Whoa! That’s…insane.
Her: I was incandescent.
Me: I have to write that down.

…and I gave her my opinion…

Me: You do know why they did this, don’t you?
Her: Why?
Me: Because they thought they could get away with it. Don’t let them.
Her: But, what’s the upside for me?
Me: Cash money, yo. Plus, you’re stopping them.

…and that was that.

We then caught up because it’s been a while since we chatted.

She’s on the dating apps but she also gets so many inquiries that she ends up just not opening the app because they give her stress.

Me: Man, women’s and men’s dating problems are so different.
Her: I think I’m just going to stop altogether.
Me: (shrugging) I dunno, you might meet a gem like me.
Her: (incredulous) I have so many thoughts, I don’t know which one to go for. I need a drink.
Me: I can get behind that. Let’s do it.

We ended up chatting for a while.

Her: What about you?
Me: (laughing) Well, I just recently went on a date and called her by an ex’s name, so, yeah, it’s going great. What about you?
Her: I have over 1,000 messages on one app. It just stresses me out.
Me: You need a dating manager to handle alla that for you.

Somehow, we got onto the topic of the two of us, which was uncomfortable because there were so many layers to it.

And, she actually said to me what Alison said to me on our first date.

Her: (sighing) Oh, Logan. You’re so dumb.

Ended up cutting off the conversation early because of that and for other personal reasons that are unimportant here.

But she wrote me afterward to tell me that all was ok, which I appreciated.

Relationships are hard, even when they’re great. Add on things like trauma and such and it’s just a mess.

I wish I was her person. I wish I was a lotta people’s…person. But, I suppose I’m still looking for something I can’t put into words.

It drove Caligirl nuts when I used to say that to her; she thought I was making it up. But it’s always been true for me.

Still, it’s a bit different now. See, I used to belong to someone.

And then I thought maybe I belonged to someone else, but – it turned out – she didn’t belong to me.

And I miss belonging to someone that belongs to me.

I’m a guard without enough people I love to guard. And one that failed his last charge.

Location: the basement of my brain again
Mood: searching
Music: save me from my brain (Spotify)
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