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.


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.