Posts tagged with "ex-girlfriends"

hay. been a while.

You must be saving the world as I write this, making it a better place for the ones like me who never seem to care enough to make a difference. Aside from the easy things like recycling and saving my laundry for large batches, of course, but that’s what you’d consider bare minimum, and it always felt like you used something like that as excuse to keep us at a distance.

Maybe that’s why I’ve never felt as in the way as when I was with you. It hurt to think I was only slowing you down, when I’d already planned so much. There were more shots to take, more cheeks to pinch, and parts of the world to explore together.

I know you needed a fighter to match your heart, but that’s not why I challenged you. Not cause I was a skeptic either, but because I wanted to be convinced. I wanted to be educated. I wanted you to change every preconceived notion I had of agriculture and corporate farming and sustainable growth with strong arguments and sound logic. But instead, you mistook it as apathy and conflict, and just gave up.

That’s why I wonder why you tried to kiss me last time, when things had already fallen apart. And whether I should have turned around; if you would have seen you getting in your car and driving off, or whether you would have lingered to see me wave through the glass. But I couldn’t look back, cause I’d had enough of you having enough of me.

The only things you left me with were a huge purple bruise and three songs in my collection, but I still need to thank you for something rich and fulfilling. Something that made me stronger, cause you were the only person to ever call them beauty marks, the only one to truly make me feel important and desirable and validated.

That’s probably why I think of leaving something in the Dropbox folder to find one day. Something sweet and nice and completely hopeless. But I realize it’s not cause I still like you. It’s cause I miss the idea of liking you, the idea of having something other than all this misspent love.

You Can’t Go Back

During his Emmy-award winning performance, Kill the Messenger, Chris Rock had a hilarious bit on the differences between men and women. He sums it up succinctly:

Women cannot go backwards in lifestyle. Men cannot go backwards sexually.

An example he uses for women is the first time they get into a nice, warm car after clubbing, waving bye to their friends who are waiting for the bus in the cold. After that, they can’t be with a man who doesn’t have a car, or as Rock puts it, “That’s how the fuck you roll for the rest of your life”. This extends to guys with their own places, then guys who take them on vacation.

On men, he says, “Once we get the sex we like, that’s how the fuck we roll. I like my coffee like this, I like my steak like this, and I like to fuck like this…Ladies, don’t get mad at us. Get mad at our ex-girlfriends. She’s the one that [sic] spoiled it for everybody” because if your ex-girlfriend licks your ass, you expect your current girlfriend to do the same.

For me, the same is true for girls in general, but not just in these aspects. I can’t be with a girl who refuses to try exotic foods or refuses to give unconventional music a chance, who wouldn’t recognize the effort I put into my presents, who wouldn’t cherish the love and affection I give, who wouldn’t understand me, or wouldn’t laugh at my stupid jokes, because I’ve been with girls who are a combination of open-minded, appreciative, romantic, on the same wavelength as me, and actually find me funny (when not completely awkward).

That’s why this entire idea scares me.

I know most people get more flexible on things about their mates as they head towards (or beyond) the marrying age but I seem to be moving the opposite direction. Each girl I’ve been with has been an improvement over the last. Now the bar has been raised so damn high I don’t think I’ll ever get there again, and I’d rather be alone than compromise or settle.

My standards are getting higher, and I can’t go back.

Greatness Of My Own

When I was dating Louise, and we talked about our exes, she told me one of hers was going to be a diplomat, and they broke up because she knew she wasn’t meant to be a diplomat’s wife. I understood. By marrying into certain careers, you marry into those responsibilities as well, and they can be too much for some, me included.

So she was with me. I wasn’t bound for greatness like that.

Still, it made me wonder; what was I meant for? What did she see in me?

I know I wasn’t meant to changed the world.

But I still think I was meant to affect the lives of others. I was born for greatness of my own, as small as it may be.

Ersatz

This looks familiar.

A place I’ve been, a feeling I’ve had, a girl I fucked one night in the fall.

Back then she cried. Lying in bed next to me, she told me she was sorry. I believed her, but I didn’t trust the tears, because she knew how much it turns me on. She got what she wanted anyway, and I suppose I did too.

That was the last night I saw her.

And now this. A replacement who used my shots, my concept, my idea, and called it destiny.

But it isn’t candid enough. It’s too forced. Unnatural. As if she’s trying too hard again to capture what was lost, and what she could have had.

So she found another version, and used him in my place.

Letting Go of Bronwen

Bronwen started dating another guy.

It’s funny, my first reaction is to think another guy, as if we’re still dating ourselves. I suppose our relationship has never been conventional, but that’s what makes it so special. We still spend our weekends together. We still talk on the phone for hours without actually talking. We’re close enough that I’m completely comfortable around her, enough for me to let my guard to go down.

It’s made me realize how protective I still am of her, how upset I’ll be if she gets hurt. I think of all the things I could have done better, and hope this guy can treat her better than I did.

I have all these mixed feelings about it though. I’m worried that I may lose my friend, but I’m glad there’s someone to make her happy. In the end, I know I can’t be selfish. Letting go of her the first time was hard enough.

Doing it again doesn’t make it any easier.