I'm just wondering if anyone is reading this...I'm not thinking of stopping, because I NEED this outlet like ya'll just don't know. However, I am writing things for myself as well, mostly because they aren't fit for public consumption--at least, not by anyone who knows me. But I'm not getting any feedback, so once again, here I am, begging for someone to tell me something. What direction would you like to see this go in? Do you love or hate the utter randomness of it all? Please, someone...tell me something!
I'll keep writing, I just hope ya'll will keep reading.
And with it being New Year's Eve, I must absolutely wish all of you health, love, luck, and happiness in the new year. I wish fabulous things for all of us. I just don't have anything more profound than that to say.
Hugs & Kisses,
Lola
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Monday, December 28, 2009
there's just so much...
Well, Lola fans, I'm so sorry it's been so long since I've written. My usual excuses hold true--the time and inspiration just haven't been there. And again, right now, as I type, I struggle. I fight myself with this thing every time I write. How much do I share? Just how vulnerable do I allow myself to become? Plus, there are so many things going on in my world...in my mind...in my heart...How do I ever organize it into a cohesive blog?
I guess let's start with whatever comes up first, shall we?
I'm watching an "LA Ink" marathon on TLC, which is a dangerous endeavor for me. I really admire Kat Von D. She's gorgeous, she's tatted to shit, she wears crazy amazing makeup, she's brilliant and strong and talented and seems to be a wonderful friend and businesswoman. And every time I watch this show, I find myself plotting some crazy makeup schemes with wild colors and mismatching and an in-your-face aesthetic. I also find myself dreaming up new tattoo ideas and trying to figure out where I could put them. I struggle all the time with my inner desire to just tattoo nearly every blank square-inch of skin on my body from the shoulders down; and my practicality that reminds me of how much time and trouble that would cost me when it comes to performing and having to cover that shit up. Plus, I've always told myself that my tattoos must be meaningful to me for the long run, but I also give myself some leeway by reminding myself that the ink will always tell my story. Any given tattoo is just a visual illustration of where I was in my life at that moment, and every experience is a learning experience. There is no room in my life for regret. So who knows what ink may come down the pipe? Pin-ups, flowers, banners, my tarot card, maybe a cat...I have so many ideas...I'm just waiting for my body to tell me what it wants at the right time.
Now, that's not to say I don't wish certain events in my life had happened...What I mean is that, I don't regret anything I've done. There are things that I missed out on, opportunities I did not take advantage of. Mostly boys I could have hooked up with that I didn't, for whatever reason I had at the time. I should've just jumped their bones when I had the chance. I can count those on one hand, but the impact those missed opportunities had on my life will be felt until the moment I draw my last breath.
Speaking of boys, I have some things to say:
DA, I still fucking miss you. I hate it, but I miss you every fucking day. It's like this ridiculous loss of something I never had and some days it feels like an illusion and some days the ache is so real it stops my breath. I still see the future we might have had, the path we didn't get to take. It's just so strange. This feeling...all these feelings I have for you...they don't stem from any sort of dissatisfaction in my life. I'm a very loved, lucky, content woman who has more than I ever dreamed of. But I still see it. I see this alternate reality sort of shimmering in the distance, I imagine our wedding, I remember how I felt around you, and I know that you're gone from me...possibly forever...and there are days I just don't know how to process that.
To my fake boyfriend Adam Levine, I'm so disappointed in you. I really wish you had crawled under the sofa and found your balls. You've never been able to be honest with me, and for some idiotic reason, I took that as a reflection on me. But I realize now, it has nothing to do with me at all--it has everything to do with your utter lack of...you know, I'm not sure exactly what it is you're lacking. Couth? Honesty? Consideration? Ok, yeah, all of the above. Why couldn't you just tell me you had a real girlfriend and that you needed me to leave you alone? Leaving someone to figure out something like that and hear things from other people is just flat-out wrong. So fine. It's over. Done. Later. I reckon she'll discover what a freak you really are and run for the hills, because she just doesn't strike me as that kind of girl. Though, I could also see you completely stifling that part of you just to keep her by your side. From here, it looks an awful lot like a match made for other people rather than your personalities, but what the fuck do I know? Nada.
Well, I guess that's all the crap that was floating in the top of my brain that needed to be let out...Later, faithful Lola fans.
I love you all, never forget it.
Lola
I guess let's start with whatever comes up first, shall we?
I'm watching an "LA Ink" marathon on TLC, which is a dangerous endeavor for me. I really admire Kat Von D. She's gorgeous, she's tatted to shit, she wears crazy amazing makeup, she's brilliant and strong and talented and seems to be a wonderful friend and businesswoman. And every time I watch this show, I find myself plotting some crazy makeup schemes with wild colors and mismatching and an in-your-face aesthetic. I also find myself dreaming up new tattoo ideas and trying to figure out where I could put them. I struggle all the time with my inner desire to just tattoo nearly every blank square-inch of skin on my body from the shoulders down; and my practicality that reminds me of how much time and trouble that would cost me when it comes to performing and having to cover that shit up. Plus, I've always told myself that my tattoos must be meaningful to me for the long run, but I also give myself some leeway by reminding myself that the ink will always tell my story. Any given tattoo is just a visual illustration of where I was in my life at that moment, and every experience is a learning experience. There is no room in my life for regret. So who knows what ink may come down the pipe? Pin-ups, flowers, banners, my tarot card, maybe a cat...I have so many ideas...I'm just waiting for my body to tell me what it wants at the right time.
Now, that's not to say I don't wish certain events in my life had happened...What I mean is that, I don't regret anything I've done. There are things that I missed out on, opportunities I did not take advantage of. Mostly boys I could have hooked up with that I didn't, for whatever reason I had at the time. I should've just jumped their bones when I had the chance. I can count those on one hand, but the impact those missed opportunities had on my life will be felt until the moment I draw my last breath.
Speaking of boys, I have some things to say:
DA, I still fucking miss you. I hate it, but I miss you every fucking day. It's like this ridiculous loss of something I never had and some days it feels like an illusion and some days the ache is so real it stops my breath. I still see the future we might have had, the path we didn't get to take. It's just so strange. This feeling...all these feelings I have for you...they don't stem from any sort of dissatisfaction in my life. I'm a very loved, lucky, content woman who has more than I ever dreamed of. But I still see it. I see this alternate reality sort of shimmering in the distance, I imagine our wedding, I remember how I felt around you, and I know that you're gone from me...possibly forever...and there are days I just don't know how to process that.
To my fake boyfriend Adam Levine, I'm so disappointed in you. I really wish you had crawled under the sofa and found your balls. You've never been able to be honest with me, and for some idiotic reason, I took that as a reflection on me. But I realize now, it has nothing to do with me at all--it has everything to do with your utter lack of...you know, I'm not sure exactly what it is you're lacking. Couth? Honesty? Consideration? Ok, yeah, all of the above. Why couldn't you just tell me you had a real girlfriend and that you needed me to leave you alone? Leaving someone to figure out something like that and hear things from other people is just flat-out wrong. So fine. It's over. Done. Later. I reckon she'll discover what a freak you really are and run for the hills, because she just doesn't strike me as that kind of girl. Though, I could also see you completely stifling that part of you just to keep her by your side. From here, it looks an awful lot like a match made for other people rather than your personalities, but what the fuck do I know? Nada.
Well, I guess that's all the crap that was floating in the top of my brain that needed to be let out...Later, faithful Lola fans.
I love you all, never forget it.
Lola
Monday, October 19, 2009
*le sigh*
I had an awful night last night. I couldn't sleep well and when I did I had fitful dreams and tossed and turned. The brief flashes of dreams have already escaped my memory. I feel down, I feel blue, and I feel...well, I wish I were a teenage girl again and could close myself off in my room and mope with bad poetry and sad songs and weeping until I have it all out of my system.
Stu, I need you. Remember when some stupid boy broke my heart (or at least wounded my ego) and you would come over with ice cream and beer or burgers and shakes and we would play Tekken 3 on PlayStation until you were totally humiliated with losing? Or I'd come over to your parents' house and we'd stew in the hot tub until my problems were totally forgotten? Or you'd make a huge batch of pizza rolls or bowls of ramen and we'd watch some stupid movie and laugh and snuggle? I so need that right now. Of course, I also need what always happened after my tears were dried...I need it as much as I needed it then. I think we both took each other for granted. You always let me cry on your shoulder and you almost always took care of me and put things right again. There were only a couple of times you really let me down: The time I got dumped in OKC and called you and you couldn't tell me the one thing I needed to hear, and the time we both realized we weren't going to work it out. That was a longer, more amorphous time but there it is. I know that it all worked out for the best for both of us. Yet I also know that we could've had a future together if we'd wanted it. I think we just didn't want it enough at the right time. I also wish the rules were different and that I could get what I need from you without repercussion. Ah, well, it seems that is also not meant to be.
So the rejection from AL still stings, and I'm feeling pretty down on myself. Of course, there are MANY other factors contributing to this: I still think of DA all the time, my DH is leaving soon, I'm over-worked and over-stressed and tired. Please don't get me wrong: I know how lucky I am to have what I do, particularly in regard to the DH. But there is always going to be a lack of fulfillment, and I think it's just human nature. We all want what we can't have, whatever we have we don't want, the grass is greener and all that...
Sadly and with longing,
Lola
Stu, I need you. Remember when some stupid boy broke my heart (or at least wounded my ego) and you would come over with ice cream and beer or burgers and shakes and we would play Tekken 3 on PlayStation until you were totally humiliated with losing? Or I'd come over to your parents' house and we'd stew in the hot tub until my problems were totally forgotten? Or you'd make a huge batch of pizza rolls or bowls of ramen and we'd watch some stupid movie and laugh and snuggle? I so need that right now. Of course, I also need what always happened after my tears were dried...I need it as much as I needed it then. I think we both took each other for granted. You always let me cry on your shoulder and you almost always took care of me and put things right again. There were only a couple of times you really let me down: The time I got dumped in OKC and called you and you couldn't tell me the one thing I needed to hear, and the time we both realized we weren't going to work it out. That was a longer, more amorphous time but there it is. I know that it all worked out for the best for both of us. Yet I also know that we could've had a future together if we'd wanted it. I think we just didn't want it enough at the right time. I also wish the rules were different and that I could get what I need from you without repercussion. Ah, well, it seems that is also not meant to be.
So the rejection from AL still stings, and I'm feeling pretty down on myself. Of course, there are MANY other factors contributing to this: I still think of DA all the time, my DH is leaving soon, I'm over-worked and over-stressed and tired. Please don't get me wrong: I know how lucky I am to have what I do, particularly in regard to the DH. But there is always going to be a lack of fulfillment, and I think it's just human nature. We all want what we can't have, whatever we have we don't want, the grass is greener and all that...
Sadly and with longing,
Lola
Sunday, October 18, 2009
set me free, why don'tcha babe...
Disclaimer: Please do not read any further if you have trouble imagining me as an adult and therefore a sexual being. Thank you.
Dear "Adam Levine,"
(For those of you new to my blog, Adam is the code name for one of my fake boyfriends.)
Now you are haunting my dreams. Two nights in a row, I have dreamt of you. Last night was intense. I don't want to get into the details...flesh, heat, clean white sheets, pillow talk, and tattoos...and nothing but an endless night stretching before us. I ache for you--the pall of it lingers over my day today. I feel as though I am moving in a slow-motion fog...I miss you and I've never had you and it's just so fucking unfair. I want you. And that's not fair, either, but there it is. Please don't get me wrong, I do NOT wish to be unfaithful to my DH. But a girl needs a fantasy and this girl likes for her fantasies to play along a little bit.
Yet, in the almost two years we've known each other, you have never once taken me up on an inviatation to hang out, even when I promise to behave. You always have something better to do, or make other plans in spite of the invitation. Nor have you ever invited me out for coffee or a horror movie or any damn thing. Your constant rejection of me is finally starting to get to me. (My ego is strong and can really take a beating, apparently) I genuinely do not understand why you would not want to hang out with me. I think we could be great friends and I really don't get it. I know how desperate this sounds and I've reached the point of not caring. I just want to know why. This isn't a whine, it's a genuine need...I must know the reason. I have my theories, and if you're reading this, please just tell me if I'm close with one of the following:
1. You find me utterly repulsive, physically and mentally and you canNOT figure out why I won't leave you alone after all this time. Take a hint, already, Lola!
2. You find me vaguely interesting and not really physically repulsive, but have been completely honest with me regarding the reasons why you cannot hang out with me every time I've invited you--it's nothing personal, you're just busy and let's face it, rather inconsiderate.
3. You are just the type of person who keeps people at arm's-length until you feel you can trust them. But how are you ever to really get to know me if you refuse to hang out with me for longer than 5 minutes?!
4. My husband is the deal-breaker. Even though I've hidden nothing from him regarding my feelings about you, and even openly flirt with you in front of him and he's totally ok with it, you just can't wrap your brain around it and therefore feel you must keep your distance from me.
5. You are wildly attracted to me and wish desperately that you could ravage me in unspeakable ways but as I am married, you feel it best to keep your distance, as I am clearly not strong enough to resist the attraction between us.
I do want to know, so please enlighten me. However, I have very nearly decided that I'd rather you just be done with it and break my heart. If you don't want to count me among your friends, then please please please, just tell me. Fake break-up with me and have it done with. I can't stand to be strung-along any further. It won't be easy for me...I'll be fairly devestated inside and really won't be able to deal with it openly, but hey, that's why I have a blog. I've already lost DA for good (or at least until his current relationship meets it's end) and you're among my favorite remaining fake boyfriends. But I can't maintain such a one-sided relationship. If this is the most pathetic thing you've ever read, that's ok. I'm feeling kinda pathetic right now. All this unrequited wanting is exhausting.
This all boils down to the fact that I'm the kind of girl who can't take hints. I'm so blunt and open and honest that I really don't understand it when people are not blunt and open and honest with me. If you hate me and want me to leave you alone, then tell me. If in reading this you realize that all your refusal to hang out with me is really kinda silly and you'd like to get to know me better, then tell me. If you really do want me and feel that you can't hang with me because you're afraid I'm going to attempt to violate you, then tell me. But at least give me the chance to prove you wrong. If you read this and decide I'm a complete psycho, then I guess that's my cross to bear and I'll have to deal with it. But I can only come to terms with your feelings if you TELL ME.
My emotional freedom lies in your very sexy hands...
With love and lust,
Lola
Dear "Adam Levine,"
(For those of you new to my blog, Adam is the code name for one of my fake boyfriends.)
Now you are haunting my dreams. Two nights in a row, I have dreamt of you. Last night was intense. I don't want to get into the details...flesh, heat, clean white sheets, pillow talk, and tattoos...and nothing but an endless night stretching before us. I ache for you--the pall of it lingers over my day today. I feel as though I am moving in a slow-motion fog...I miss you and I've never had you and it's just so fucking unfair. I want you. And that's not fair, either, but there it is. Please don't get me wrong, I do NOT wish to be unfaithful to my DH. But a girl needs a fantasy and this girl likes for her fantasies to play along a little bit.
Yet, in the almost two years we've known each other, you have never once taken me up on an inviatation to hang out, even when I promise to behave. You always have something better to do, or make other plans in spite of the invitation. Nor have you ever invited me out for coffee or a horror movie or any damn thing. Your constant rejection of me is finally starting to get to me. (My ego is strong and can really take a beating, apparently) I genuinely do not understand why you would not want to hang out with me. I think we could be great friends and I really don't get it. I know how desperate this sounds and I've reached the point of not caring. I just want to know why. This isn't a whine, it's a genuine need...I must know the reason. I have my theories, and if you're reading this, please just tell me if I'm close with one of the following:
1. You find me utterly repulsive, physically and mentally and you canNOT figure out why I won't leave you alone after all this time. Take a hint, already, Lola!
2. You find me vaguely interesting and not really physically repulsive, but have been completely honest with me regarding the reasons why you cannot hang out with me every time I've invited you--it's nothing personal, you're just busy and let's face it, rather inconsiderate.
3. You are just the type of person who keeps people at arm's-length until you feel you can trust them. But how are you ever to really get to know me if you refuse to hang out with me for longer than 5 minutes?!
4. My husband is the deal-breaker. Even though I've hidden nothing from him regarding my feelings about you, and even openly flirt with you in front of him and he's totally ok with it, you just can't wrap your brain around it and therefore feel you must keep your distance from me.
5. You are wildly attracted to me and wish desperately that you could ravage me in unspeakable ways but as I am married, you feel it best to keep your distance, as I am clearly not strong enough to resist the attraction between us.
I do want to know, so please enlighten me. However, I have very nearly decided that I'd rather you just be done with it and break my heart. If you don't want to count me among your friends, then please please please, just tell me. Fake break-up with me and have it done with. I can't stand to be strung-along any further. It won't be easy for me...I'll be fairly devestated inside and really won't be able to deal with it openly, but hey, that's why I have a blog. I've already lost DA for good (or at least until his current relationship meets it's end) and you're among my favorite remaining fake boyfriends. But I can't maintain such a one-sided relationship. If this is the most pathetic thing you've ever read, that's ok. I'm feeling kinda pathetic right now. All this unrequited wanting is exhausting.
This all boils down to the fact that I'm the kind of girl who can't take hints. I'm so blunt and open and honest that I really don't understand it when people are not blunt and open and honest with me. If you hate me and want me to leave you alone, then tell me. If in reading this you realize that all your refusal to hang out with me is really kinda silly and you'd like to get to know me better, then tell me. If you really do want me and feel that you can't hang with me because you're afraid I'm going to attempt to violate you, then tell me. But at least give me the chance to prove you wrong. If you read this and decide I'm a complete psycho, then I guess that's my cross to bear and I'll have to deal with it. But I can only come to terms with your feelings if you TELL ME.
My emotional freedom lies in your very sexy hands...
With love and lust,
Lola
Monday, September 21, 2009
is this real?
I saw him there. I didn't think I would, but there he was. I had hoped... imagined...dreamed...but never really believed. Whether I believed or not, there he was. As gorgeous as I remembered, to me, anyway. Light brown hair tousled just so, blue-grey eyes taking everything in...and then those eyes caught mine and my breath caught in my throat. I felt the world stop around me; it blurred away to nothing but me and him. Our eyes held for a moment. I moved my head slightly, subtly, toward the door, asking him silently to meet me outside. He nodded back at me just as slightly. Anyone watching us would not have noticed the entire conversation we had in those small movements. I slipped away from my husband and the rest of the crowd and pushed through the door into the cool evening air. I wrapped my arms around myself as if fending a chill but really I was just trying to still my nerves. Loud heartbeats passed the time, pounding in my ears as I waited. And just at the moment I started to question whether he was going to meet me, the doors opened, and there he was. I didn't realize I'd been holding my breath until he was within arms' reach and I exhaled.
"Hi." I said.
"Hey." He answered.
I took another deep breath and plunged right in: "So do you hate me now, or what?"
"Is that what you think?" He squinted at me when he said this.
"I don't want to think that, but..."
"Lola, you know I..."
"I know." I nodded and sighed a bit.
"It's just that she and I..."
"I know. I know, I do, but...I miss you."
Then it was his turn to sigh.
"I'm sorry," I said, "It's just that, well, you just let go. You just let me go and it was so easy for you...It'll never be that easy for me."
"You think this is easy for me?"
"You seem to be doing just fine." I said this with more bite than was necessary and I saw the flash of pain behind his eyes. "I mean, you're gone, and you have her, and I'm here...without you. It's not like I'm alone, either, but..."
"I know. You know how I feel about you."
"No, I don't. I don't because you never tell me. You give me nothing but I still can't let go. I don't want to. Damnit. I didn't want to say that."
"Lola, you should know. You know me well enough to know, to know what my silence means. You know why I'm not around anymore. It's all just...it's too much."
"But don't you want that? Isn't too much exactly what everyone wants?"
"Please don't...We're not getting into this again."
"I'm sorry. I don't want to hurt you. Well, now, that's not entirely true..." I said flirtatiously, one eyebrow cocked at him as I looked up through my eyelashes.
He smiled, in spite of himself.
I smiled back, in spite of myself.
"We should probably, you know..." He nodded toward the door.
"What? You afraid she'll come looking for you? Would there be hell to pay if she found us out here together?"
"Please don't do that."
"I'm sorry. Again."
"You are forgiven. As always."
"We'll go in, but I want one thing from you first."
"Lola, I'm not kissing you out here...not like this."
"No, darling, that's not what I want."
"Okay...?"
I looked down at the ground and gathered my strength. "Please just say it. Tell me you miss me. That you still want me. That you love me. I want to hear it from you, just once." I didn't want to beg, but all I wanted was to hear him tell me how I knew he felt about me. And if that meant I had to beg to hear it, then beg I would. "Please. Please?" I finally looked back up into his eyes.
He reached out to me and took one of my hands in one of his. My heart stuttered. I felt a bit lightheaded. God, how I wanted him...
"You know how I feel about you. You know it in your heart. But I can't give you what you want. I can't say it. If I tell you...If I admit this out loud to myself, much less to you now, then everything we've built will fall apart. I will never be able to look you in the eye again. I will never be able to look your husband in the eye again. We will be finished. I mean it. There will be nothing left of us."
In spite of myself, I felt my eyes well with tears. Knowing in my heart how he felt and hearing it pass his lips were two different things, and at that moment I felt both sentiments were absent.
"Damnit, can't you just...?"
"No."
"Just once, just give me this..."
"NO."
The finality in his voice, the firm reserve, told me I would get nowhere by arguing with him.
"Fine. But I'll never forget this. The one time I asked you for something...something you could give me so easily...You know what? Never mind. I get it--you've given me all I'm going to get from you tonight. But I'm not going to give up."
He closed his eyes and dropped his head for a moment. I watched him. I watched him struggle, just for that brief moment. And I felt myself lose that struggle as he reached out for me, hugged me, kissed the top of my head, and then let go of me as he walked away.
I shivered again and fought to keep from blinking the tears out of my eyes and down my cheeks. I took a deep breath and I walked away from the tension that was still palpable in the air around me. I smoothed my hair and my dress and I walked proudly back to my husband, my reality, my grounding. I walked away from the fantasy but I'll never forget it.
"Hi." I said.
"Hey." He answered.
I took another deep breath and plunged right in: "So do you hate me now, or what?"
"Is that what you think?" He squinted at me when he said this.
"I don't want to think that, but..."
"Lola, you know I..."
"I know." I nodded and sighed a bit.
"It's just that she and I..."
"I know. I know, I do, but...I miss you."
Then it was his turn to sigh.
"I'm sorry," I said, "It's just that, well, you just let go. You just let me go and it was so easy for you...It'll never be that easy for me."
"You think this is easy for me?"
"You seem to be doing just fine." I said this with more bite than was necessary and I saw the flash of pain behind his eyes. "I mean, you're gone, and you have her, and I'm here...without you. It's not like I'm alone, either, but..."
"I know. You know how I feel about you."
"No, I don't. I don't because you never tell me. You give me nothing but I still can't let go. I don't want to. Damnit. I didn't want to say that."
"Lola, you should know. You know me well enough to know, to know what my silence means. You know why I'm not around anymore. It's all just...it's too much."
"But don't you want that? Isn't too much exactly what everyone wants?"
"Please don't...We're not getting into this again."
"I'm sorry. I don't want to hurt you. Well, now, that's not entirely true..." I said flirtatiously, one eyebrow cocked at him as I looked up through my eyelashes.
He smiled, in spite of himself.
I smiled back, in spite of myself.
"We should probably, you know..." He nodded toward the door.
"What? You afraid she'll come looking for you? Would there be hell to pay if she found us out here together?"
"Please don't do that."
"I'm sorry. Again."
"You are forgiven. As always."
"We'll go in, but I want one thing from you first."
"Lola, I'm not kissing you out here...not like this."
"No, darling, that's not what I want."
"Okay...?"
I looked down at the ground and gathered my strength. "Please just say it. Tell me you miss me. That you still want me. That you love me. I want to hear it from you, just once." I didn't want to beg, but all I wanted was to hear him tell me how I knew he felt about me. And if that meant I had to beg to hear it, then beg I would. "Please. Please?" I finally looked back up into his eyes.
He reached out to me and took one of my hands in one of his. My heart stuttered. I felt a bit lightheaded. God, how I wanted him...
"You know how I feel about you. You know it in your heart. But I can't give you what you want. I can't say it. If I tell you...If I admit this out loud to myself, much less to you now, then everything we've built will fall apart. I will never be able to look you in the eye again. I will never be able to look your husband in the eye again. We will be finished. I mean it. There will be nothing left of us."
In spite of myself, I felt my eyes well with tears. Knowing in my heart how he felt and hearing it pass his lips were two different things, and at that moment I felt both sentiments were absent.
"Damnit, can't you just...?"
"No."
"Just once, just give me this..."
"NO."
The finality in his voice, the firm reserve, told me I would get nowhere by arguing with him.
"Fine. But I'll never forget this. The one time I asked you for something...something you could give me so easily...You know what? Never mind. I get it--you've given me all I'm going to get from you tonight. But I'm not going to give up."
He closed his eyes and dropped his head for a moment. I watched him. I watched him struggle, just for that brief moment. And I felt myself lose that struggle as he reached out for me, hugged me, kissed the top of my head, and then let go of me as he walked away.
I shivered again and fought to keep from blinking the tears out of my eyes and down my cheeks. I took a deep breath and I walked away from the tension that was still palpable in the air around me. I smoothed my hair and my dress and I walked proudly back to my husband, my reality, my grounding. I walked away from the fantasy but I'll never forget it.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
super-secret nostalgia...
WARNING: This blog is a little...PG-13 to possibly R-Rated. If you have any trouble at all acknowledging me as a sexual being, PLEASE do not read any farther. You have been warned and I cannot be held responsible for the outcome if you continue after this warning.
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This morning while I was getting ready for work, I was listening to the Kidd Kraddick in the Morning radio show (as I do almost every morning), and they were talking about saying hurtful things to your partner and the motivation behind it, whether you really mean it or not when you say something in the heat of the moment, that sort of thing. As it usually does during a topic of this nature, someone pulled out the "I was drunk" excuse but not to use it or defend it--to call it out as false. One show member stated that he doesn't believe this is a valid excuse--that you wouldn't do or say anything drunk that you wouldn't do or say sober. I think this is patently untrue. While I don't necessarily think that you can say whatever you want to someone and then turn around after you sober up and blame it on the booze and try to say you didn't mean it, I don't think it's always one thing or the other--some statements or actions may have a kernel of truth in them, others may really just be the inhibitions flying away and allowing something to sound like a good idea at the time.
So this morning their discussion and that phrase, "I was drunk," brought up some old shit from the past. A boy, to be specific. A boy I've never disclosed my intimate involvement with, to this day. There's really not a good reason now to maintain this secret, as I'm not really in the same circle of friends & acquaintances as I was when this happened...Except that I'm still, well, abashed by it? I don't know. I don't want to say ashamed, but I'm certainly not proud. I am quite sure he feels the same way. I wouldn't know, because not long after we happened, he left town & I haven't seen or spoken to or even heard anything about him since. I'm not going to name names, and I'm going to keep the hints at a minimum, even though I sincerely doubt that anyone who is reading this would know him.
This old shit? I don't know why, but it all stays with me. The one-night-stands, the almost-boyfriends, the stupid mistakes and the really fabulous times--they all stay with me. And I dredge it up and share it with you all. So this morning...this boy from my past...
He was brown-eyed and pretty with dark hair and long eyelashes. He had a shy, quiet way about him which I found endearing. Not like I normally do, in that I want to corrupt it, but in the way that I found it precious. We met through the theatre. He actually dated someone I knew...I guess it was a pretty serious young relationship but I wasn't involved in it in any way. We had spoken when they were together, but I don't think we spent any more time than that with each other, and we were certainly never alone.
The way it happened, the way he & I ended up sleeping together, it seemed fated just because it felt so strange at the time--I mean, I would NEVER have predicted it, almost not up until...well, we'll get there together, darlings. I had that feeling I get sometimes when I'm not really in control of my own body--I feel almost like a puppet being tugged along by the strings of the fates, powerless to stop where I'm going even if certain disaster is looming. On this particular night, I went to see a play he was performing in. Ironically enough, my most recent ex-boyfriend was also in this play, along with The Boy and several other people I knew. I had actually already seen the play once before but came back, I'm not sure why, but I was probably volunteering at the theater as an usher or something that night. Here's where it gets interesting: I swear I could feel him watching me throughout the play...the whole time he was on stage. It was sort of bizarre, but I understood it because I've done the same thing; he never dropped character, never looked distracted, never lost his place in the scene...But I could feel his gaze on me. It was a bit...unsettling because I had honestly never regarded him that way before. Not that I didn't find him attractive, but he wasn't for me. I mean, he and I...I knew that was just not going to happen in any way, shape, or form. I never got that vibe of attraction from him...until that night.
So already, my senses are sort of humming and I'm on a sort of sexy high-alert. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't expecting anything to happen, but the flirting seemed fun and harmless enough and this would just give it an extra sort of boost. After the show was over, I had to hang around to help clean things up, which meant I would be leaving at roughly the same time as most of the cast. I walked outside and there he was. We caught each others' eye. He came over to talk to me by my truck. I could feel him looking at me, and it was intense. I remember standing there, being completely unsure of myself--I had NO IDEA how to handle this! (I know this is hard to imagine for any of you who have spent time in my presence, particularly if you are male, but I promise, it happened just this way.) We talked, about what I have no idea, but we talked and flirted and stood there in awkward silence and neither of us could tear ourselves away from the other. He invited me to the cast party. I readily accepted. So we met up at the house where the party was already in full swing. We staked out a spot in the backyard that was far enough away from everyone else that we could have some privacy to talk and flirt and be awkward some more. The sexual tension built. My ex and his new girlfriend came over to us to say hello, and the vibe between The Boy and I was so intense, the ex and his new girl couldn't even stand to be near us. (Funny side note: The ex and his new girl actually wanted to hook up with me around that same time...Yes, the three of us. I didn't find her attractive and frankly thought the whole thing would be just too weird, even for me. But we had some fun talking about it.) Then along came a steady stream of other random theatre folks, guys in the play, etc., and NONE of them stayed near us for long. They would greet us, get the feeling they'd interrupted something, give us each a side-glance and then bolt for the hills. Subtlety has never been my strong suit and even with The Boy's natural shyness, we were just thrumming with...well, I think you get it.
As I'm sure many of you will understand, in my confused and heightened state, it sounded like a great idea to have a drink to calm myself down a bit. One drink led to a couple more and before long, I was nice and warmly drunk. Not falling down sloppy or obnoxious, but that perfect happy drunken medium we all try to maintain while drinking and either fall asleep or end up vomiting in a yard somewhere. It was early summertime and the night was mild. However, it was getting late and the party was starting to wind down some. Not that it mattered--we weren't engaged with anyone but each other. I kept saying that I needed to go home, to pry myself away from The Boy. I kept saying it but I didn't really act on it. Of course, then I got drunk and there was no way I was getting behind the wheel and driving myself home all the way across town. He offered to take me back to his place so we could watch a movie and I could sober up, then he would bring me back to my truck. This somehow managed to NOT sound like a pick-up line at all coming from his sweet, innocent mouth. I knew The Boy was not a player and if one of us should be afraid of the other, well, we all know I had the advantage of age and experience in this situation. So in my inebriated state and for want of any better options, I took him up on his offer.
Upstairs in his apartment, we laughed about our nearly identical movie collections. Needless to say, we did not end up watching a movie. We sat on his couch and talked, but it wasn't comfortable. I don't want to say it was uncomfortable, it was just...tense, but in a delicious way. There was some gazing into each others' eyes and some giggling and some looking away from one another. We settled in with me leaning against him, sort of under his arm, so we wouldn't have to look at each other at all, and we talked some more. When I finally did look up at him, he kissed me. I knew, and I think he knew, too, that it was the point of no return. I told him I didn't understand why he was interested in me. He said I was crazy if I didn't know how attractive I was. I retorted that I just never got that vibe from him. I asked him if he was playing me, or if he was using me to get back at his ex. He said he wasn't using me for that, and I don't think he was lying--but I do think he was using me as sort of a reasonable facsimile for her--our personalities were somewhat similar, at least to those who didn't know us well. I've found myself in that position before and I guess it should have bothered me but I got a strange sort of power charge from it--like, ok, you think I'm like her but I'm going to prove to you that I'm better and you'll never think of her again. That sort of thing. He asked me if I thought he was some sort of player. I told him he certainly seemed to have all the right moves and the right words, which usually indicates a boy is a player. He insisted that he was not like that at all. I believed him. He offered to take me back to my truck and I turned him down. I didn't want to tear myself away from the anticipation...the tension...the awareness. I still felt powerless to resist...I felt the inevitability of he and I together, just for this one night. It sounds sexy and romantic and in some ways it was, but in others it was just stupid and reckless.
Needless to say, after another hour or so of making out on the couch, we were both just...well, we needed to get it over with. So we went into his bedroom. There were no sheets on the bed. Hell, there was no bed on the bed...Just a mattress & box springs on the floor, with an egg crate on top. He apologized but by that point, I didn't care. We just laid down on the mattress and went for it. Unfortunately, it all ended up being rather...anti-climactic, I'm sorry to say. When it was over, I was sober and feeling numb but also empty...disappointed...angry...Though there was a strange satisfaction I still can't explain...I guess just because I got what I thought I wanted. But these feelings all were sort of muted and far-away (it's hard to explain--like an out-of-body experience but not). I got dressed while he waited in the living room. We both knew it was time for me to leave, so we went downstairs and got in his SUV so he could take me back to my truck. Even more unfortunately, it got worse. I made a stupid mistake and didn't make him use anything. I've been on the pill since I was 15 but yeah, it was dumb. So as we're on the way back to my truck, he looks over at me in a truly awful attempt to be funny and says, "By the way, I have an STD." I wish he had just punched me in the gut, because that's exactly what it felt like. My skin felt numb and on fire at the same time...I completely froze...He said, "I'm kidding! I swear!" I knew he was (yes, I knew his sexual history and there was just the 1 other girl), and I got the motivation behind what he was doing--trying to release some of the tension in a different way that had built up since we...well, you know. But it still blind-sided me. I mean, it could have just as easily turned out that way. We rode in silence until we got to my truck. I don't remember if we even bothered to kiss one another good-night. I got in my truck and drove home and fell asleep. I only saw him one other time after that and he wouldn't meet my eye. Not long after that, he was gone.
I said before that I don't regret it. I don't regret any of my choices, good or bad, "right" or "wrong." I learned something from this and had a new experience and made a (however unstable and brief) connection with another human being. Yes, I was drunk, but I wanted what I wanted--my body wanted what it wanted and I could not deny it. The alcohol just left me less able to fight...though I doubt the outcome would have been different if I'd been sober.
So this morning on the radio, I heard "I was drunk." And those sweet brown eyes and dark thick lashes peered back at me from my past. In spite of it all, I couldn't help it--I smiled.
Love,
Lola
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This morning while I was getting ready for work, I was listening to the Kidd Kraddick in the Morning radio show (as I do almost every morning), and they were talking about saying hurtful things to your partner and the motivation behind it, whether you really mean it or not when you say something in the heat of the moment, that sort of thing. As it usually does during a topic of this nature, someone pulled out the "I was drunk" excuse but not to use it or defend it--to call it out as false. One show member stated that he doesn't believe this is a valid excuse--that you wouldn't do or say anything drunk that you wouldn't do or say sober. I think this is patently untrue. While I don't necessarily think that you can say whatever you want to someone and then turn around after you sober up and blame it on the booze and try to say you didn't mean it, I don't think it's always one thing or the other--some statements or actions may have a kernel of truth in them, others may really just be the inhibitions flying away and allowing something to sound like a good idea at the time.
So this morning their discussion and that phrase, "I was drunk," brought up some old shit from the past. A boy, to be specific. A boy I've never disclosed my intimate involvement with, to this day. There's really not a good reason now to maintain this secret, as I'm not really in the same circle of friends & acquaintances as I was when this happened...Except that I'm still, well, abashed by it? I don't know. I don't want to say ashamed, but I'm certainly not proud. I am quite sure he feels the same way. I wouldn't know, because not long after we happened, he left town & I haven't seen or spoken to or even heard anything about him since. I'm not going to name names, and I'm going to keep the hints at a minimum, even though I sincerely doubt that anyone who is reading this would know him.
This old shit? I don't know why, but it all stays with me. The one-night-stands, the almost-boyfriends, the stupid mistakes and the really fabulous times--they all stay with me. And I dredge it up and share it with you all. So this morning...this boy from my past...
He was brown-eyed and pretty with dark hair and long eyelashes. He had a shy, quiet way about him which I found endearing. Not like I normally do, in that I want to corrupt it, but in the way that I found it precious. We met through the theatre. He actually dated someone I knew...I guess it was a pretty serious young relationship but I wasn't involved in it in any way. We had spoken when they were together, but I don't think we spent any more time than that with each other, and we were certainly never alone.
The way it happened, the way he & I ended up sleeping together, it seemed fated just because it felt so strange at the time--I mean, I would NEVER have predicted it, almost not up until...well, we'll get there together, darlings. I had that feeling I get sometimes when I'm not really in control of my own body--I feel almost like a puppet being tugged along by the strings of the fates, powerless to stop where I'm going even if certain disaster is looming. On this particular night, I went to see a play he was performing in. Ironically enough, my most recent ex-boyfriend was also in this play, along with The Boy and several other people I knew. I had actually already seen the play once before but came back, I'm not sure why, but I was probably volunteering at the theater as an usher or something that night. Here's where it gets interesting: I swear I could feel him watching me throughout the play...the whole time he was on stage. It was sort of bizarre, but I understood it because I've done the same thing; he never dropped character, never looked distracted, never lost his place in the scene...But I could feel his gaze on me. It was a bit...unsettling because I had honestly never regarded him that way before. Not that I didn't find him attractive, but he wasn't for me. I mean, he and I...I knew that was just not going to happen in any way, shape, or form. I never got that vibe of attraction from him...until that night.
So already, my senses are sort of humming and I'm on a sort of sexy high-alert. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't expecting anything to happen, but the flirting seemed fun and harmless enough and this would just give it an extra sort of boost. After the show was over, I had to hang around to help clean things up, which meant I would be leaving at roughly the same time as most of the cast. I walked outside and there he was. We caught each others' eye. He came over to talk to me by my truck. I could feel him looking at me, and it was intense. I remember standing there, being completely unsure of myself--I had NO IDEA how to handle this! (I know this is hard to imagine for any of you who have spent time in my presence, particularly if you are male, but I promise, it happened just this way.) We talked, about what I have no idea, but we talked and flirted and stood there in awkward silence and neither of us could tear ourselves away from the other. He invited me to the cast party. I readily accepted. So we met up at the house where the party was already in full swing. We staked out a spot in the backyard that was far enough away from everyone else that we could have some privacy to talk and flirt and be awkward some more. The sexual tension built. My ex and his new girlfriend came over to us to say hello, and the vibe between The Boy and I was so intense, the ex and his new girl couldn't even stand to be near us. (Funny side note: The ex and his new girl actually wanted to hook up with me around that same time...Yes, the three of us. I didn't find her attractive and frankly thought the whole thing would be just too weird, even for me. But we had some fun talking about it.) Then along came a steady stream of other random theatre folks, guys in the play, etc., and NONE of them stayed near us for long. They would greet us, get the feeling they'd interrupted something, give us each a side-glance and then bolt for the hills. Subtlety has never been my strong suit and even with The Boy's natural shyness, we were just thrumming with...well, I think you get it.
As I'm sure many of you will understand, in my confused and heightened state, it sounded like a great idea to have a drink to calm myself down a bit. One drink led to a couple more and before long, I was nice and warmly drunk. Not falling down sloppy or obnoxious, but that perfect happy drunken medium we all try to maintain while drinking and either fall asleep or end up vomiting in a yard somewhere. It was early summertime and the night was mild. However, it was getting late and the party was starting to wind down some. Not that it mattered--we weren't engaged with anyone but each other. I kept saying that I needed to go home, to pry myself away from The Boy. I kept saying it but I didn't really act on it. Of course, then I got drunk and there was no way I was getting behind the wheel and driving myself home all the way across town. He offered to take me back to his place so we could watch a movie and I could sober up, then he would bring me back to my truck. This somehow managed to NOT sound like a pick-up line at all coming from his sweet, innocent mouth. I knew The Boy was not a player and if one of us should be afraid of the other, well, we all know I had the advantage of age and experience in this situation. So in my inebriated state and for want of any better options, I took him up on his offer.
Upstairs in his apartment, we laughed about our nearly identical movie collections. Needless to say, we did not end up watching a movie. We sat on his couch and talked, but it wasn't comfortable. I don't want to say it was uncomfortable, it was just...tense, but in a delicious way. There was some gazing into each others' eyes and some giggling and some looking away from one another. We settled in with me leaning against him, sort of under his arm, so we wouldn't have to look at each other at all, and we talked some more. When I finally did look up at him, he kissed me. I knew, and I think he knew, too, that it was the point of no return. I told him I didn't understand why he was interested in me. He said I was crazy if I didn't know how attractive I was. I retorted that I just never got that vibe from him. I asked him if he was playing me, or if he was using me to get back at his ex. He said he wasn't using me for that, and I don't think he was lying--but I do think he was using me as sort of a reasonable facsimile for her--our personalities were somewhat similar, at least to those who didn't know us well. I've found myself in that position before and I guess it should have bothered me but I got a strange sort of power charge from it--like, ok, you think I'm like her but I'm going to prove to you that I'm better and you'll never think of her again. That sort of thing. He asked me if I thought he was some sort of player. I told him he certainly seemed to have all the right moves and the right words, which usually indicates a boy is a player. He insisted that he was not like that at all. I believed him. He offered to take me back to my truck and I turned him down. I didn't want to tear myself away from the anticipation...the tension...the awareness. I still felt powerless to resist...I felt the inevitability of he and I together, just for this one night. It sounds sexy and romantic and in some ways it was, but in others it was just stupid and reckless.
Needless to say, after another hour or so of making out on the couch, we were both just...well, we needed to get it over with. So we went into his bedroom. There were no sheets on the bed. Hell, there was no bed on the bed...Just a mattress & box springs on the floor, with an egg crate on top. He apologized but by that point, I didn't care. We just laid down on the mattress and went for it. Unfortunately, it all ended up being rather...anti-climactic, I'm sorry to say. When it was over, I was sober and feeling numb but also empty...disappointed...angry...Though there was a strange satisfaction I still can't explain...I guess just because I got what I thought I wanted. But these feelings all were sort of muted and far-away (it's hard to explain--like an out-of-body experience but not). I got dressed while he waited in the living room. We both knew it was time for me to leave, so we went downstairs and got in his SUV so he could take me back to my truck. Even more unfortunately, it got worse. I made a stupid mistake and didn't make him use anything. I've been on the pill since I was 15 but yeah, it was dumb. So as we're on the way back to my truck, he looks over at me in a truly awful attempt to be funny and says, "By the way, I have an STD." I wish he had just punched me in the gut, because that's exactly what it felt like. My skin felt numb and on fire at the same time...I completely froze...He said, "I'm kidding! I swear!" I knew he was (yes, I knew his sexual history and there was just the 1 other girl), and I got the motivation behind what he was doing--trying to release some of the tension in a different way that had built up since we...well, you know. But it still blind-sided me. I mean, it could have just as easily turned out that way. We rode in silence until we got to my truck. I don't remember if we even bothered to kiss one another good-night. I got in my truck and drove home and fell asleep. I only saw him one other time after that and he wouldn't meet my eye. Not long after that, he was gone.
I said before that I don't regret it. I don't regret any of my choices, good or bad, "right" or "wrong." I learned something from this and had a new experience and made a (however unstable and brief) connection with another human being. Yes, I was drunk, but I wanted what I wanted--my body wanted what it wanted and I could not deny it. The alcohol just left me less able to fight...though I doubt the outcome would have been different if I'd been sober.
So this morning on the radio, I heard "I was drunk." And those sweet brown eyes and dark thick lashes peered back at me from my past. In spite of it all, I couldn't help it--I smiled.
Love,
Lola
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Sarah says it best...
"What ravages of spirit conjured this temptuous rage?
Created you a monster, broken by the rules of love
And fate has led you through it, you do what you have to do
And fate has led you through it, you do what you have to do
...And I have the sense to recognize that I dont know how to let you go
Every moment marked with apparitions of your soul
I'm ever swiftly moving, trying to escape this desire
The yearning to be near you
I do what I have to do
The yearning to be near you
I do what I have to do
But I have the sense to recognize that I dont know how to let you go
I dont know how to let you go
A glowing ember, burning hot, burning slow
Deep within I'm shaken by the violence of existing for only you
I know I cant be with you, I do what I have to do
I know I cant be with you, I do what I have to do
And I have sense to recognize that
I dont know how to let you go
I dont know how to let you go
I dont know how to let you go"
--Sarah McLachlan, "Do What You Have To Do"
I was listening to this song tonight and it managed, as music often does, to stir up some old shit as well as some current shit. I'm a Cancer, as many of you know, and that makes me nurturing, emotional, intuitive, and sensitive. I say this because we Cancerians have a tendency to hang on to old shit and dredge it back out, whether it be to ourselves (crying in the bathtub with a glass of wine listening to Sarah McLachlan) or to others ("bringing up old shit" with exes or currents or friends). We like to regurgitate emotions...we hang on to it, internalize it, marinate in it, wallow around in it, then bring it back up and chew on it some more. We are also occaisionally known to emotionally vomit these feelings onto others. This is really just me over-explaining that the song brought up some old shit.
The thing is, at varying points in my life, this has made me think of men with whom I've been involved, both past and present loves. I should explain that I do believe we can be in love with more than one person at a time, for very different reasons. I believe that we fall in and out of love with others depending on what they bring to us--our minds, our bodies, our souls, our hearts--at any given time through our lives. Even people who are in loving, committed relationships would likely admit to falling in love with someone else (yes, I'll go ahead and include harmless crushes and infatuations, but also close friendships). The lynchpin is how we do or do not act upon those feelings. I must say that as a married woman, I took a vow to remain faithful to my husband and I have upheld that. I also know that there are people who are in "open" but committed relationships and that is just fine for them. Of course, that's not really what I'm talking about here. I'm talking about finding something in someone else that connects with something inside you, in a completely different way than you're connected with anyone else in your life. This is possible without infidelity or physicality or any of that getting in the way, though I won't say I've never been physically attracted to other men. The difference for me is that the attraction remains pure fantasy. As for the rest of it, it's simply a connection, nothing more and nothing less.
That being said, these relationships that I've found myself in...Even when I'm given every sign that it is one-sided (mine) and that the other person has at least put on a good front of moving on, I don't know how to let them go. I think the thing for me is that I don't want to. I still hold out hope. These people, they have touched my life and shaped who I am today. I am friends with many of my exes, and I mean very close friends. I can't imagine my life without them even now. And the ones I'm not friends with? I still credit them with creating me--the woman I have become and the woman I am becoming.
You know what I find particularly amusing? When I've finally brought myself to the point of almost-letting-go, when I've gotten to that point in my mind and heart and sould to say "ok, enough is enough, let's move on and find something else," here they come again. It's like they know. One of my current fake boyfriends, aka Adam Levine, is particularly good at this. Just when I've gotten so angry and so tired of being ignored or disregarded or let down...I get a text. I get a message. I have a dream about him. I get some kind of re-connection and I am snapped right back to where I was before. It's heart-wrenching and exciting and glorious and awful all at once. Truth be told, my emotional instincts tell me that it's better this way--it's better to hang on, to maintain that faint thread of hope. Because I just can't let go. I don't know how to let them go...
Love, lust, friendship, soulmates...However you may define them, they are all connections that we forge throughout our lives. We all wonder "what if?" What if things had been different then, or what if things were different now, what would happen? Who would I be? I don't believe in dwelling in the past, but I certainly believe that we shouldn't forget our pasts. The past has shaped us, past, present, and future. So these connections I've forged, I'll keep. I'll hang on to them, despite the pain. Because the wonderful glory of loving and connecting makes it all worth it.
Love,
Lola
P.S. Please comment on this--I'm getting the feeling I'm not getting my point across because I'm keeping certain details from you. This is one of those posts I need to write but I'm not sure I've let it all out. Protecting myself and my loved ones is important to me, but so is expressing what I'm really feeling. I suspect that many of you will recognize that DA is certainly someone who is still on my mind even now, but I'm not sure how much of that to dredge back out here. So folks, if you're curious, if you want more details, or if you want me to just stop at this obtuse, vague rambling-type writing, then let me know. Your feedback is very important to me. ; .)
P.P.S. When I say comment, I mean comment on here or via Facebook or the email address I have on this blog (lolalouboutin@hotmail.com). I do NOT mean comment to me in person. It's hard to explain, but it's almost more difficult to be honest out here if I think you're going to bring it up face-to-face. It's also hard for me to hear from third-parties about what's on my blog. Does it make sense for me to ask that this remain somewhat separate? I mean, unless I bring it up in conversation myself...I hope this doesn't sound hateful or ungracious. I hope you can all understand. I guess what I'm trying to say is that it would help me if those of you who know me personally can separate this blog persona from the "real" me. Maybe it would help if I said that you shouldn't always believe what you read... ; .)
Created you a monster, broken by the rules of love
And fate has led you through it, you do what you have to do
And fate has led you through it, you do what you have to do
...And I have the sense to recognize that I dont know how to let you go
Every moment marked with apparitions of your soul
I'm ever swiftly moving, trying to escape this desire
The yearning to be near you
I do what I have to do
The yearning to be near you
I do what I have to do
But I have the sense to recognize that I dont know how to let you go
I dont know how to let you go
A glowing ember, burning hot, burning slow
Deep within I'm shaken by the violence of existing for only you
I know I cant be with you, I do what I have to do
I know I cant be with you, I do what I have to do
And I have sense to recognize that
I dont know how to let you go
I dont know how to let you go
I dont know how to let you go"
--Sarah McLachlan, "Do What You Have To Do"
I was listening to this song tonight and it managed, as music often does, to stir up some old shit as well as some current shit. I'm a Cancer, as many of you know, and that makes me nurturing, emotional, intuitive, and sensitive. I say this because we Cancerians have a tendency to hang on to old shit and dredge it back out, whether it be to ourselves (crying in the bathtub with a glass of wine listening to Sarah McLachlan) or to others ("bringing up old shit" with exes or currents or friends). We like to regurgitate emotions...we hang on to it, internalize it, marinate in it, wallow around in it, then bring it back up and chew on it some more. We are also occaisionally known to emotionally vomit these feelings onto others. This is really just me over-explaining that the song brought up some old shit.
The thing is, at varying points in my life, this has made me think of men with whom I've been involved, both past and present loves. I should explain that I do believe we can be in love with more than one person at a time, for very different reasons. I believe that we fall in and out of love with others depending on what they bring to us--our minds, our bodies, our souls, our hearts--at any given time through our lives. Even people who are in loving, committed relationships would likely admit to falling in love with someone else (yes, I'll go ahead and include harmless crushes and infatuations, but also close friendships). The lynchpin is how we do or do not act upon those feelings. I must say that as a married woman, I took a vow to remain faithful to my husband and I have upheld that. I also know that there are people who are in "open" but committed relationships and that is just fine for them. Of course, that's not really what I'm talking about here. I'm talking about finding something in someone else that connects with something inside you, in a completely different way than you're connected with anyone else in your life. This is possible without infidelity or physicality or any of that getting in the way, though I won't say I've never been physically attracted to other men. The difference for me is that the attraction remains pure fantasy. As for the rest of it, it's simply a connection, nothing more and nothing less.
That being said, these relationships that I've found myself in...Even when I'm given every sign that it is one-sided (mine) and that the other person has at least put on a good front of moving on, I don't know how to let them go. I think the thing for me is that I don't want to. I still hold out hope. These people, they have touched my life and shaped who I am today. I am friends with many of my exes, and I mean very close friends. I can't imagine my life without them even now. And the ones I'm not friends with? I still credit them with creating me--the woman I have become and the woman I am becoming.
You know what I find particularly amusing? When I've finally brought myself to the point of almost-letting-go, when I've gotten to that point in my mind and heart and sould to say "ok, enough is enough, let's move on and find something else," here they come again. It's like they know. One of my current fake boyfriends, aka Adam Levine, is particularly good at this. Just when I've gotten so angry and so tired of being ignored or disregarded or let down...I get a text. I get a message. I have a dream about him. I get some kind of re-connection and I am snapped right back to where I was before. It's heart-wrenching and exciting and glorious and awful all at once. Truth be told, my emotional instincts tell me that it's better this way--it's better to hang on, to maintain that faint thread of hope. Because I just can't let go. I don't know how to let them go...
Love, lust, friendship, soulmates...However you may define them, they are all connections that we forge throughout our lives. We all wonder "what if?" What if things had been different then, or what if things were different now, what would happen? Who would I be? I don't believe in dwelling in the past, but I certainly believe that we shouldn't forget our pasts. The past has shaped us, past, present, and future. So these connections I've forged, I'll keep. I'll hang on to them, despite the pain. Because the wonderful glory of loving and connecting makes it all worth it.
Love,
Lola
P.S. Please comment on this--I'm getting the feeling I'm not getting my point across because I'm keeping certain details from you. This is one of those posts I need to write but I'm not sure I've let it all out. Protecting myself and my loved ones is important to me, but so is expressing what I'm really feeling. I suspect that many of you will recognize that DA is certainly someone who is still on my mind even now, but I'm not sure how much of that to dredge back out here. So folks, if you're curious, if you want more details, or if you want me to just stop at this obtuse, vague rambling-type writing, then let me know. Your feedback is very important to me. ; .)
P.P.S. When I say comment, I mean comment on here or via Facebook or the email address I have on this blog (lolalouboutin@hotmail.com). I do NOT mean comment to me in person. It's hard to explain, but it's almost more difficult to be honest out here if I think you're going to bring it up face-to-face. It's also hard for me to hear from third-parties about what's on my blog. Does it make sense for me to ask that this remain somewhat separate? I mean, unless I bring it up in conversation myself...I hope this doesn't sound hateful or ungracious. I hope you can all understand. I guess what I'm trying to say is that it would help me if those of you who know me personally can separate this blog persona from the "real" me. Maybe it would help if I said that you shouldn't always believe what you read... ; .)
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
it's just not good...
Dearest faithful readers (and unfaithful alike),
I'm terribly sorry it's been so long since I've written. I hate when I actually have a moment to check in on some of my favorite blogs and they haven't posted in months--it's so disappointing. I was on vacation, plus work is nutty, and for a while I was just feeling overwhelmed and uninspired, so again, I say I'm sorry. I'm assuming of course, that you have 1) checked this blog for something new and 2) are actually disappointed that there wasn't much there...Alright, let's just get on with this...Apology accepted? Good. Thank you.
I am having a supremely shit-tastic day today. It really started last night and has simply spilled over into today and the hits just keep a'comin'. I couldn't spend the night at the hospital with the DH last night (for those of you who are unaware, he had a "disk-ectomy with plating over C6 & C7" surgery yesterday morning). I couldn't because I'm not the kind of woman who is physically able to sleep in an uncomfortable-ass chair that doesn't recline or anything. I also needed to get home & take care of my kittehs, who were lacking air conditioning. (Yes, that's right, 2 days before the DH has surgery, the a/c goes down. We finally got someone to come out on a Sunday and we made the decision to replace the unit. Let's just say that our comfort apparently has some very expensive taste. Lucky for us, they finance. Anyway, the company that's taking care of us lent us a portable unit, so at least it's not 90 degrees in here anymore.) I didn't feel comfie leaving the cats alone with no air for so long, and neither did the DH. So he basically kicked me out. Leaving that hospital room was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. For one thing, I hate sleeping without him and I hate being alone in the house at night. I also just felt like an epic failure for not being able to stick it out. And honestly, I just wanted to be there to take care of him and look out for him and make sure he was doing alright.
So I came home, and I opened the bedroom window & got the vent hose all situated and plugged in that portable unit. I closed all the doors so the space was smaller and prayed for some quick cooling. Then I just started crying. Ya'll should know, I'm NOT a crybaby. No one would describe me that way--I HATE to cry and will fight it as hard as I can. But once I start? Oh hell, the floodgates are open, I might as well just let it all out. I texted the DH for some reassurance and we went back & forth a few times. I got completely freaked out at the thought of the window being open (back to that utter fear of being alone in the house) and kept hearing "noises" outside. So I read for about an hour then unplugged the portable unit and closed & locked the window. It was not cool. Not in any way, shape, or form. But I figured I'd rather be hot than on high alert fearing for my life all night long, so that was on me. This morning, I lugged the fucking thing back into the living room & got it all set back up out here so that DH wouldn't be suffering in here when I brought him home. (Note: It's actually fairly comfie in here, but probably only because we have all the bedrooms closed off and it's only in the 80's outside.) I knew the a/c guys were coming today and opted to clean out the cat boxes so they wouldn't be quite so offensive. Well, it was nice and cool and breezy out this morning, so I tried to open the window in that room. 15 minutes and another sob storm later, I still couldn't get the fucking thing open. So I just sucked it up and had sweat running everywhere, including into the litter. Blech. Once I had showered and put on a cute outfit and felt somewhat human again, I had some cereal and watched TV waiting for the DH to call & let me know he was being released. I had to stay here to make sure I let the a/c guys in. When the call came, I was READY, so I launched myself out into the world again to pick him up, hoping for a Starbucks run before we got home.
I got to the room and he was dressed & waiting for me, but wasn't in a very good mood. I don't blame him, he's uncomfie and tired and in pain, and normally I'm calm & rested enough to put it in check (nicely) or keep it in perspective. Today? Not so much so. By the time I got him home, we got into it and I lost my temper. I was cranky from having no sleep and worrying about him and he was cranky from pain & discomfort, which is just not a good combo. My mood was worsened at the realization that I would have to go to the pharmacy to pick up his pain meds. The pharmacy at the military hospital. Ugh. Plus Walgreen's for vitamins and other supplements. Double Ugh. I did make a side trip to Starbucks, feeling decaffeinated and blaming that for some of my crankiness. That perked me up a bit, until I got to the gate nearest the hospital pharmacy and was treated quite harshly by the gate guard. You see, I had the new car and I haven't gotten my post permit for her yet, but I had my military ID & figured they would want to inspect the vehicle then send me on my way. Nope. He made me do a u-turn and go to a DIFFERENT gate, where he told me I had to get a temporary pass to get on post. FMyLife! I started crying again! I wanted to tell him I was just going to the pharmacy and that it was RIGHT THERE and I could see it and please, I have my ID and my husband is at home waiting for his pain meds and I don't want him to suffer anymore...But I could tell he was not receptive. I could tell because he had already walked away from the car before I could formulate the thought. So I'm crying and driving and trying to pull myself together and all I have is my Starbucks napkin to dab my eyes (thank goodness this cry was snot-free!). I get to the other gate expecting an ordeal, and instead she looks at my ID, looks at the front of my car, hands my back the ID and says, "Have a nice day."
I get to the pharmacy and wouldn't you just know, it's crazy busy and they've got (yet another) new system for checking in and such, and the take a number machine is rather complicated for my simple mind...I'm standing there trying to figure the fucking thing out and people are lining up behind me and I feel like a complete imbecile! Finally, I get my numbers and go sit down. Some ancient Asian woman starts squawking at me and I nod and mutter something then go back to ignoring her. Suddenly, we all hear a scrape and a thud, and people start getting up and moving to just inside the front door...Someone fell down. Guess that guy's having a worse day than me. I felt bad for him, because he couldn't get up and everyone is just sort of standing there gawking at him (the employees were actually helping by sending for the emergency department and a doctor to tend to him and probably aren't allowed to touch him otherwise--I get it) and he was wailing and gnashing his teeth and people are staring. I couldn't see anything but his feet and noticed he was wearing a boot-cast on one foot and had a walker. I'm not sure if he slipped on the floor or tripped or what, but he had landed flat on his back. Ancient Asian squawks at me some more and I mutter some more back and again ignore her. They call my number (the 1st one--for me to turn in my prescription...er, DH's prescription), and I go and hand the nice lady everything and she takes my number and I go sit back down. I get my DS out to play and think that since someone just fell, I should probably pick my 'Bux cup off the floor and wipe up the moisture. As I do, I manage to spill my coffee drink (iced, luckily) all over my cute outfit. Great...now my boob is stained, my skirt is stained, and I smell like espresso. I throw it away and go back to my game. Fallen guy is still being tended to until finally, the ER stretcher comes down. The kicker? They can't take him back the way they came, they have to take him OUTSIDE and around to the ER entrance. Oh, and it's RAINING. Nice. He's wailing and crying (not that I blame him) until they wheel him out the door. I finally hear them call my number (again!), get my drugs and get the hell out of there. Yup, still raining. Good. I needed to get wet on top of everything else. Did I mention that my shirt is white?
Walgreen's was actually pretty easy, though I very nearly got into an accident on the way. I get the vitamins and I grab a cute Beanie monkey for DH as an apology for yelling at him. I get home and give the DH his goodies, get him medicated, and try to get myself situated to relax. I pick up the bag DH brought home from the hospital (one of his military-issue) and reach in it to get one of his other prescriptions out...and my hand is wet. WTH? Ah, I see...He just stuck the plastic mug they gave him (still full of ice) into his bag when we left...I thought he emptied it; clearly I was wrong. So his bag is soaked, the stuff in the bag is soaked, and yup, the couch and one of my dupioni silk pillows is soaked. Lovely. Waterworks #4 begins...I just can't help it. I'm feeling so frustrated and wrung out and overwhelmed...Poor DH comes in and tries to comfort me, which sort of makes me feel sort of worse, because I'm supposed to be taking care of him, not making him anxious about me. OK, let's regroup. I'm going to sit down & relax and get some lunch in my tummy.
No sooner do I finish my entree (hot dog & sunchips, if you must know), the guys come back and inform me that our hot water heater has been leaking and the platform is completely rotted and must be replaced. Oh, and it's going to cost $50 just for them to come out & look at it. Great. No choice in the matter, so there ya go. And here we are. I'm exhausted, my eyes are sticky, my clothes still smell like coffee and have brown spots...
Just to recap: No a/c, window won't open, 4 crying jags, spilled espresso drink, pharmacy line, rain, cranky Asian, recuperating hubby, near-accident, mean gate guard, lost mileage, leaky hot water heater, and construction/repair going on at the house. I'm also running on about 4 hours of crappy sleep in 2 days, the cats are being bratty, the dishwasher needs to be unloaded, groceries need to purchased, laundry needs to be done...All of my resources are running on empty.
On the bright side, I must say that having such amazing friends (they've kept me company, brought me food and drinks, checked on DH for me--AND one of his also-hospitalized co-workers!, and sent me thoughts & prayers & warm wishes that really did get me through yesterday. I don't want anyone to think that I have hit bottom--I know things could always get worse, I'm still very lucky, and I'm very grateful for everything.
If you're still reading this, thanks for "listening."
Love,
Lola
Update/footnote/postcript/whatever:The hot water heater has to be replaced as well. Yippee. Did I mention that I'm also having a bad hair day?
I'm terribly sorry it's been so long since I've written. I hate when I actually have a moment to check in on some of my favorite blogs and they haven't posted in months--it's so disappointing. I was on vacation, plus work is nutty, and for a while I was just feeling overwhelmed and uninspired, so again, I say I'm sorry. I'm assuming of course, that you have 1) checked this blog for something new and 2) are actually disappointed that there wasn't much there...Alright, let's just get on with this...Apology accepted? Good. Thank you.
I am having a supremely shit-tastic day today. It really started last night and has simply spilled over into today and the hits just keep a'comin'. I couldn't spend the night at the hospital with the DH last night (for those of you who are unaware, he had a "disk-ectomy with plating over C6 & C7" surgery yesterday morning). I couldn't because I'm not the kind of woman who is physically able to sleep in an uncomfortable-ass chair that doesn't recline or anything. I also needed to get home & take care of my kittehs, who were lacking air conditioning. (Yes, that's right, 2 days before the DH has surgery, the a/c goes down. We finally got someone to come out on a Sunday and we made the decision to replace the unit. Let's just say that our comfort apparently has some very expensive taste. Lucky for us, they finance. Anyway, the company that's taking care of us lent us a portable unit, so at least it's not 90 degrees in here anymore.) I didn't feel comfie leaving the cats alone with no air for so long, and neither did the DH. So he basically kicked me out. Leaving that hospital room was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. For one thing, I hate sleeping without him and I hate being alone in the house at night. I also just felt like an epic failure for not being able to stick it out. And honestly, I just wanted to be there to take care of him and look out for him and make sure he was doing alright.
So I came home, and I opened the bedroom window & got the vent hose all situated and plugged in that portable unit. I closed all the doors so the space was smaller and prayed for some quick cooling. Then I just started crying. Ya'll should know, I'm NOT a crybaby. No one would describe me that way--I HATE to cry and will fight it as hard as I can. But once I start? Oh hell, the floodgates are open, I might as well just let it all out. I texted the DH for some reassurance and we went back & forth a few times. I got completely freaked out at the thought of the window being open (back to that utter fear of being alone in the house) and kept hearing "noises" outside. So I read for about an hour then unplugged the portable unit and closed & locked the window. It was not cool. Not in any way, shape, or form. But I figured I'd rather be hot than on high alert fearing for my life all night long, so that was on me. This morning, I lugged the fucking thing back into the living room & got it all set back up out here so that DH wouldn't be suffering in here when I brought him home. (Note: It's actually fairly comfie in here, but probably only because we have all the bedrooms closed off and it's only in the 80's outside.) I knew the a/c guys were coming today and opted to clean out the cat boxes so they wouldn't be quite so offensive. Well, it was nice and cool and breezy out this morning, so I tried to open the window in that room. 15 minutes and another sob storm later, I still couldn't get the fucking thing open. So I just sucked it up and had sweat running everywhere, including into the litter. Blech. Once I had showered and put on a cute outfit and felt somewhat human again, I had some cereal and watched TV waiting for the DH to call & let me know he was being released. I had to stay here to make sure I let the a/c guys in. When the call came, I was READY, so I launched myself out into the world again to pick him up, hoping for a Starbucks run before we got home.
I got to the room and he was dressed & waiting for me, but wasn't in a very good mood. I don't blame him, he's uncomfie and tired and in pain, and normally I'm calm & rested enough to put it in check (nicely) or keep it in perspective. Today? Not so much so. By the time I got him home, we got into it and I lost my temper. I was cranky from having no sleep and worrying about him and he was cranky from pain & discomfort, which is just not a good combo. My mood was worsened at the realization that I would have to go to the pharmacy to pick up his pain meds. The pharmacy at the military hospital. Ugh. Plus Walgreen's for vitamins and other supplements. Double Ugh. I did make a side trip to Starbucks, feeling decaffeinated and blaming that for some of my crankiness. That perked me up a bit, until I got to the gate nearest the hospital pharmacy and was treated quite harshly by the gate guard. You see, I had the new car and I haven't gotten my post permit for her yet, but I had my military ID & figured they would want to inspect the vehicle then send me on my way. Nope. He made me do a u-turn and go to a DIFFERENT gate, where he told me I had to get a temporary pass to get on post. FMyLife! I started crying again! I wanted to tell him I was just going to the pharmacy and that it was RIGHT THERE and I could see it and please, I have my ID and my husband is at home waiting for his pain meds and I don't want him to suffer anymore...But I could tell he was not receptive. I could tell because he had already walked away from the car before I could formulate the thought. So I'm crying and driving and trying to pull myself together and all I have is my Starbucks napkin to dab my eyes (thank goodness this cry was snot-free!). I get to the other gate expecting an ordeal, and instead she looks at my ID, looks at the front of my car, hands my back the ID and says, "Have a nice day."
I get to the pharmacy and wouldn't you just know, it's crazy busy and they've got (yet another) new system for checking in and such, and the take a number machine is rather complicated for my simple mind...I'm standing there trying to figure the fucking thing out and people are lining up behind me and I feel like a complete imbecile! Finally, I get my numbers and go sit down. Some ancient Asian woman starts squawking at me and I nod and mutter something then go back to ignoring her. Suddenly, we all hear a scrape and a thud, and people start getting up and moving to just inside the front door...Someone fell down. Guess that guy's having a worse day than me. I felt bad for him, because he couldn't get up and everyone is just sort of standing there gawking at him (the employees were actually helping by sending for the emergency department and a doctor to tend to him and probably aren't allowed to touch him otherwise--I get it) and he was wailing and gnashing his teeth and people are staring. I couldn't see anything but his feet and noticed he was wearing a boot-cast on one foot and had a walker. I'm not sure if he slipped on the floor or tripped or what, but he had landed flat on his back. Ancient Asian squawks at me some more and I mutter some more back and again ignore her. They call my number (the 1st one--for me to turn in my prescription...er, DH's prescription), and I go and hand the nice lady everything and she takes my number and I go sit back down. I get my DS out to play and think that since someone just fell, I should probably pick my 'Bux cup off the floor and wipe up the moisture. As I do, I manage to spill my coffee drink (iced, luckily) all over my cute outfit. Great...now my boob is stained, my skirt is stained, and I smell like espresso. I throw it away and go back to my game. Fallen guy is still being tended to until finally, the ER stretcher comes down. The kicker? They can't take him back the way they came, they have to take him OUTSIDE and around to the ER entrance. Oh, and it's RAINING. Nice. He's wailing and crying (not that I blame him) until they wheel him out the door. I finally hear them call my number (again!), get my drugs and get the hell out of there. Yup, still raining. Good. I needed to get wet on top of everything else. Did I mention that my shirt is white?
Walgreen's was actually pretty easy, though I very nearly got into an accident on the way. I get the vitamins and I grab a cute Beanie monkey for DH as an apology for yelling at him. I get home and give the DH his goodies, get him medicated, and try to get myself situated to relax. I pick up the bag DH brought home from the hospital (one of his military-issue) and reach in it to get one of his other prescriptions out...and my hand is wet. WTH? Ah, I see...He just stuck the plastic mug they gave him (still full of ice) into his bag when we left...I thought he emptied it; clearly I was wrong. So his bag is soaked, the stuff in the bag is soaked, and yup, the couch and one of my dupioni silk pillows is soaked. Lovely. Waterworks #4 begins...I just can't help it. I'm feeling so frustrated and wrung out and overwhelmed...Poor DH comes in and tries to comfort me, which sort of makes me feel sort of worse, because I'm supposed to be taking care of him, not making him anxious about me. OK, let's regroup. I'm going to sit down & relax and get some lunch in my tummy.
No sooner do I finish my entree (hot dog & sunchips, if you must know), the guys come back and inform me that our hot water heater has been leaking and the platform is completely rotted and must be replaced. Oh, and it's going to cost $50 just for them to come out & look at it. Great. No choice in the matter, so there ya go. And here we are. I'm exhausted, my eyes are sticky, my clothes still smell like coffee and have brown spots...
Just to recap: No a/c, window won't open, 4 crying jags, spilled espresso drink, pharmacy line, rain, cranky Asian, recuperating hubby, near-accident, mean gate guard, lost mileage, leaky hot water heater, and construction/repair going on at the house. I'm also running on about 4 hours of crappy sleep in 2 days, the cats are being bratty, the dishwasher needs to be unloaded, groceries need to purchased, laundry needs to be done...All of my resources are running on empty.
On the bright side, I must say that having such amazing friends (they've kept me company, brought me food and drinks, checked on DH for me--AND one of his also-hospitalized co-workers!, and sent me thoughts & prayers & warm wishes that really did get me through yesterday. I don't want anyone to think that I have hit bottom--I know things could always get worse, I'm still very lucky, and I'm very grateful for everything.
If you're still reading this, thanks for "listening."
Love,
Lola
Update/footnote/postcript/whatever:The hot water heater has to be replaced as well. Yippee. Did I mention that I'm also having a bad hair day?
Monday, July 20, 2009
a little bit of this and a little bit of that...
So, once again, those of you who followed me here from MySpace know that sometimes I add bits of history mixed with fiction and blurred memory. This style of writing is how I imagine my book will be, should I ever finish it to my own satisfaction. I'd like to share a short bit that came to me on Friday, and I'd like to know what you all think:
____________________________________________________________________
I walked into my boss' office to ask her a question. On her desk was a small plastic bag that said "Chik-Fil-A Seasoned Croutons." In that moment, I had a flash of memory so powerful it almost buckled my knees. Something so random, so unobtrusive...so seemingly innocuous as a bag of croutons that came with a salad from a fast-food restaurant...nearly brought me down. It was a strange flashback...happy and sad and nostalgic and bittersweet and everything a good flashback should be, I suppose. You see, I once shared a bag of croutons just exactly like that with a boy I'll call Stu. (I'll leave y'all to figure out who this is, and a big ol' batch of brownie points to the person who guesses correctly!) Stu & I had both been hired for seasonal employment by the lovely Eskimo Joe's Clothes that was coming to our mall for the Winter Holiday Season. (I'm not offended by Christmas season, but I'm trying to be inclusive here and I think that's a fairly open & respectful term. Again, this is a blog for another time.) We were there in a huge store piled high and packed full with boxes and boxes of t-shirts and sweatshirts and plastic cups and key rings and pencils and bandanas. Stu & I were in the first blush of our very long-standing and eventually very complicated flirtation. The way he smiled at me that day, when he offered me a crouton out of that baggie...I couldn't comprehend that that bright grin was meant for me. I had a boyfriend at the time, but Stu was single (I think--I wasn't very good at keeping track of his relationships because later, it mattered very little to me if he was seeing someone or not...I wanted what I wanted and I very nearly always got it).
At any rate, his smile...it did more than disarm me. It flipped my feelings for him inside-out. My intuition told me that he and I would end up tangled together emotionally and physically, but my reason wouldn't allow me to believe it. Turns out, my intuition was right, but that's a story for another day, children. On that day, that smile and those croutons were enough for me.
The day after the crouton-sharing flirtation incident, I was fired from that job because the woman who'd been hired to be the manager of that store was a complete idiot. I had 2 other jobs but had given her 3 days of the week that I could work and she couldn't figure out how to work me into the schedule. I so badly wanted to tell her that but for school and my other jobs, I could've easily been in her position, but I was too stunned to speak. I'd never been fired before (nor since) and I couldn't wrap my brain around it. I knew it wasn't for anything I'd done wrong but I cried nonetheless. Rejection stings, regardless of the source. I walked quickly past Stu on the way out and with one look, he had a pretty good idea what had happened. I knew he was sad for me but also sad that the possibility of the 2 of us would have to be postponed for another time. I called my boyfriend, who left work in the middle of the day to come home and mope with me over this stupid job at which I'd only worked for a few hours. He felt to both of us like a hero, at least for that day.
But Stu with his long-limbed fluidity and daylight-bright grin and his croutons and whip-smart jokes...He was still there with me, in my mind, my heart, my soul...I guess I should say, he is still with me. Stu is part of my history, my creation, my growth...he is hilarity and heartbreak and ice cream in bed and soaking in the hot tub and driving around aimlessly...There is so much more to this story, boys and girls, but I'm sorry to say that you'll just have to wait.
I hope you enjoyed this little snippet. Feedback, please.
All my love,
Lola
____________________________________________________________________
I walked into my boss' office to ask her a question. On her desk was a small plastic bag that said "Chik-Fil-A Seasoned Croutons." In that moment, I had a flash of memory so powerful it almost buckled my knees. Something so random, so unobtrusive...so seemingly innocuous as a bag of croutons that came with a salad from a fast-food restaurant...nearly brought me down. It was a strange flashback...happy and sad and nostalgic and bittersweet and everything a good flashback should be, I suppose. You see, I once shared a bag of croutons just exactly like that with a boy I'll call Stu. (I'll leave y'all to figure out who this is, and a big ol' batch of brownie points to the person who guesses correctly!) Stu & I had both been hired for seasonal employment by the lovely Eskimo Joe's Clothes that was coming to our mall for the Winter Holiday Season. (I'm not offended by Christmas season, but I'm trying to be inclusive here and I think that's a fairly open & respectful term. Again, this is a blog for another time.) We were there in a huge store piled high and packed full with boxes and boxes of t-shirts and sweatshirts and plastic cups and key rings and pencils and bandanas. Stu & I were in the first blush of our very long-standing and eventually very complicated flirtation. The way he smiled at me that day, when he offered me a crouton out of that baggie...I couldn't comprehend that that bright grin was meant for me. I had a boyfriend at the time, but Stu was single (I think--I wasn't very good at keeping track of his relationships because later, it mattered very little to me if he was seeing someone or not...I wanted what I wanted and I very nearly always got it).
At any rate, his smile...it did more than disarm me. It flipped my feelings for him inside-out. My intuition told me that he and I would end up tangled together emotionally and physically, but my reason wouldn't allow me to believe it. Turns out, my intuition was right, but that's a story for another day, children. On that day, that smile and those croutons were enough for me.
The day after the crouton-sharing flirtation incident, I was fired from that job because the woman who'd been hired to be the manager of that store was a complete idiot. I had 2 other jobs but had given her 3 days of the week that I could work and she couldn't figure out how to work me into the schedule. I so badly wanted to tell her that but for school and my other jobs, I could've easily been in her position, but I was too stunned to speak. I'd never been fired before (nor since) and I couldn't wrap my brain around it. I knew it wasn't for anything I'd done wrong but I cried nonetheless. Rejection stings, regardless of the source. I walked quickly past Stu on the way out and with one look, he had a pretty good idea what had happened. I knew he was sad for me but also sad that the possibility of the 2 of us would have to be postponed for another time. I called my boyfriend, who left work in the middle of the day to come home and mope with me over this stupid job at which I'd only worked for a few hours. He felt to both of us like a hero, at least for that day.
But Stu with his long-limbed fluidity and daylight-bright grin and his croutons and whip-smart jokes...He was still there with me, in my mind, my heart, my soul...I guess I should say, he is still with me. Stu is part of my history, my creation, my growth...he is hilarity and heartbreak and ice cream in bed and soaking in the hot tub and driving around aimlessly...There is so much more to this story, boys and girls, but I'm sorry to say that you'll just have to wait.
I hope you enjoyed this little snippet. Feedback, please.
All my love,
Lola
Friday, July 10, 2009
as if that wasn't enough...
So, my Dad called me this morning to let me know that his mother (my grandmother aka MiMa) passed away. She had been in hospice care at home for over 5 years, so it's not like we weren't prepared for this. It's almost more of a relief because now I know she's not so uncomfortable anymore and that she's finally found some peace and respite. She lived a good, long life, and she fought really hard to stay as long as she could, but I know she was ready for this. And to be awfully blunt about it, we weren't close. Having older parents has meant having older grandparents. My paternal grandfather died when I was 2 or 3, so I don't really remember him. My Momsie was adopted by her aunt as a child after her parents essentially abandoned her, so her Aunt (aka Nana) was essentially my maternal grandmother, and she died several years ago. Needless to say, I'm not really close to anyone in my family beyond my parents. My siblings & I (there are a LOT of us, and that's a blog for another day) have our moments, but I wouldn't say we're close. It's alright; we're just not like that...I don't know how to explain it, but it works for us. (I will say that we ALL have our groups of what DH & I call "Framily," or "friend family," which is essentially family we've chosen for ourselves. I think they're just as important as blood relatives.)
At any rate, MiMa and I have never really understood each other or even spent a great deal of time together. I've often wondered if I would feel guilty about this after she died. Well, here we are, and I have to say I really don't. The effort wasn't there on either side. She was a very sweet, darling woman, but her favorite topic was who was sick, dying, and dead (and these were NEVER people I knew in any way). The grandparents never really participated in my upbringing or ever came to grandparent's days at school or attended my theatre or musical performances, and I never really went over there to visit with them. I tried attending church with them a few times, but even then, organized religion made me nervous (and nothing against the Church of Christ, but it's REALLY not my cuppa tea.) I guess what I'm trying to say in a really long-winded way is that I'm not really sad about it. I'm more sad for my dad and for her husband, who's left behind with Alzheimer's and diabetes, and I reckon he's probably not far behind her, sadly.
I'm also just sort of thinking that the timing of all this is really sucky, but whatever. I told a friend on the phone earlier that I've reached the point where if I don't laugh, I will break down and scream and cry and throw things, which is not going to solve anything. All these things have happened and/or are happening, and there's nothing I can do to change any of it. So all I can do is just keep moving forward, focused on the future. One day at a time, one hour at a time, one minute at a time.
Lola
At any rate, MiMa and I have never really understood each other or even spent a great deal of time together. I've often wondered if I would feel guilty about this after she died. Well, here we are, and I have to say I really don't. The effort wasn't there on either side. She was a very sweet, darling woman, but her favorite topic was who was sick, dying, and dead (and these were NEVER people I knew in any way). The grandparents never really participated in my upbringing or ever came to grandparent's days at school or attended my theatre or musical performances, and I never really went over there to visit with them. I tried attending church with them a few times, but even then, organized religion made me nervous (and nothing against the Church of Christ, but it's REALLY not my cuppa tea.) I guess what I'm trying to say in a really long-winded way is that I'm not really sad about it. I'm more sad for my dad and for her husband, who's left behind with Alzheimer's and diabetes, and I reckon he's probably not far behind her, sadly.
I'm also just sort of thinking that the timing of all this is really sucky, but whatever. I told a friend on the phone earlier that I've reached the point where if I don't laugh, I will break down and scream and cry and throw things, which is not going to solve anything. All these things have happened and/or are happening, and there's nothing I can do to change any of it. So all I can do is just keep moving forward, focused on the future. One day at a time, one hour at a time, one minute at a time.
Lola
Thursday, July 9, 2009
the latest but for sure not the greatest...
Well, boys & girls, it's official: The DH is having spinal surgery August 17th. That's 2 days before school starts...in other words, CRUNCH TIME for me at my job. Imagine working in retail and having to tell your manager that you can't work the day after Thanksgiving or Christmas Eve...only my Black Friday and Christmas Eve are all rolled into one and repeated over & over for nearly 2 weeks. I hate doing this to my co-workers. I know they understand and are really supportive, and that if an emergency had come up, the result would be the same. But I feel that if I could do anything to prevent them from having to do my job at the worst possible time of year for them to be doing it, I would love to. Unfortunately, all I can do is pre-emptively strike everything possible, and stay on top of the current work so that I don't leave them in a deficit right out of the box.
This also means that we are cutting our precious vacation in half. I simply cannot take 2 weeks off, at the busiest time of the year, then come back for 2 weeks and then take 2 more weeks off to take care of DH. So instead of our lovely, leisurely drive down to Dallas to visit friends, then up to Washington with a week to hang out in Seattle...a new tattoo for me...the Seattle Aquarium...Pike Place Market...and great shopping, followed by a week of hanging out with his family and then his 20th high school reunion, then driving home? We get just the 2nd week, with the family and the reunion. There will be nothing leisurely about this trip. Not much in the way of relaxation or great shopping, and definitely no tattoo. No visiting Mecca for Coffee Drinkers (aka the original Starbucks!) and no going to the top of the Space Needle or spending the day at the Music Experience, if that's what we want to do. Instead, it's family and a huge group of people I don't know. Please don't get me wrong, I don't begrudge DH the family visit or the reunion. I bought a smokin' hot dress and a new Coach purse and some Louboutins so that I can strut in there and let them know that 20 years ago, I was starting 7th grade and how does that make them feel? (What can I say? It's good to be the "trophy wife.") I am sure we will both enjoy the reunion and relaxing on the farm and eating fish tacos at Cactus Ya-Ya. But none of this trip is about me. The me part has been cut right out. Yes, I know how selfish this sounds. Know what? I don't care. A vacation is all about being selfish, especially when you don't have any children to worry about. It's my bloody vacation, too, and I should be able to do something I want to do. We aren't going to Disney World or Boston as we originally wanted, and now we're not even going to the compromise part of the 3rd string vacation to Seattle! *Le Sigh* Honestly, though, it's not just the "me" part I'm going to miss, it's the "us" part. No quality time for DH & Wifey-Pooh (that's me, ya'll!) No romance, no dates, no nada. Just stress, family, rushing, and then hauling our a$$es back. I wish I could say I'm sorry if I sound like a bitter hag, but I'm not. I get that we're still lucky enough to take this time (I hope!) and at least won't miss out on his reunion. But it's not what we wanted. Not entirely, anyway.
I am lucky enough to have an amazing group of friends around me, who are all lending their love and support. Thank you all for that, and please keep it up! You shall be handsomely rewarded.
Freaked out but loved,
Lola
This also means that we are cutting our precious vacation in half. I simply cannot take 2 weeks off, at the busiest time of the year, then come back for 2 weeks and then take 2 more weeks off to take care of DH. So instead of our lovely, leisurely drive down to Dallas to visit friends, then up to Washington with a week to hang out in Seattle...a new tattoo for me...the Seattle Aquarium...Pike Place Market...and great shopping, followed by a week of hanging out with his family and then his 20th high school reunion, then driving home? We get just the 2nd week, with the family and the reunion. There will be nothing leisurely about this trip. Not much in the way of relaxation or great shopping, and definitely no tattoo. No visiting Mecca for Coffee Drinkers (aka the original Starbucks!) and no going to the top of the Space Needle or spending the day at the Music Experience, if that's what we want to do. Instead, it's family and a huge group of people I don't know. Please don't get me wrong, I don't begrudge DH the family visit or the reunion. I bought a smokin' hot dress and a new Coach purse and some Louboutins so that I can strut in there and let them know that 20 years ago, I was starting 7th grade and how does that make them feel? (What can I say? It's good to be the "trophy wife.") I am sure we will both enjoy the reunion and relaxing on the farm and eating fish tacos at Cactus Ya-Ya. But none of this trip is about me. The me part has been cut right out. Yes, I know how selfish this sounds. Know what? I don't care. A vacation is all about being selfish, especially when you don't have any children to worry about. It's my bloody vacation, too, and I should be able to do something I want to do. We aren't going to Disney World or Boston as we originally wanted, and now we're not even going to the compromise part of the 3rd string vacation to Seattle! *Le Sigh* Honestly, though, it's not just the "me" part I'm going to miss, it's the "us" part. No quality time for DH & Wifey-Pooh (that's me, ya'll!) No romance, no dates, no nada. Just stress, family, rushing, and then hauling our a$$es back. I wish I could say I'm sorry if I sound like a bitter hag, but I'm not. I get that we're still lucky enough to take this time (I hope!) and at least won't miss out on his reunion. But it's not what we wanted. Not entirely, anyway.
I am lucky enough to have an amazing group of friends around me, who are all lending their love and support. Thank you all for that, and please keep it up! You shall be handsomely rewarded.
Freaked out but loved,
Lola
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Deciding what to share & an update on the sitch...
Even though I am now posting my blog on this very public forum, I struggle with what I can/should/will disclose here. I always get caught in a war between wanting to share and get feedback and support or even arguments, versus protecting myself and thereby my loved ones as well. As of right now, I will try to give you a picture of what's going on while still maintaining some semblance of privacy. That's also why I haven't really updated my profile on here--I'm trying to figure out what to keep & what to give away, as it were.
Here's a vague idea of what I'm dealing with at the moment:
As of right now, my life is in complete turmoil. Work is crazy, my house is a mess, and all my near-future plans are up in the air once again. The DH has a herniated disk between C6 & C7 vertebrae, and his medical team all believed that while surgery was a likelihood, physical therapy would help enough for a while. Right about the same time this diagnosis was handed down, we had some other turmoil with his employer (AKA the US Army) deciding that he had been stateside long enough & it was time to get him out of the country. Our choices were pretty unattractive: Move to another post elsewhere in the country, from where he would likely deploy to the Middle East; or, he would volunteer to go to South Korea for a year so that he would be able to return to our home here. However, his medical team has decided that he cannot put off the surgery for a year while he is deployed, so it must be done very soon. They've scheduled the surgery for mid-August, which is the worst possible time for me with regard to my job. So we're trying to massage the dates a bit, a 6-month deferment on his orders is likely, and EVERYTHING we were planning for the next month or 2 is up in the air. I'm overwhelmed, upset, frustrated, scared, and just downright mixed up. I'm trying desperately to be strong and smart and keep everyone at least satisfied...I have so many proverbial balls in the air that something will have to give, and soon.
I don't care to get into my feelings/wishes/hopes/dreams for my DH's career right now, but suffice it to say, I would be totally happy to have him become a civilian. I know that financially it's not the best move, but I also know that money doesn't matter to me as much as my DH does. I'm just trying to get through one day at a time, but it's hard to keep re-arranging my thoughts and feelings to keep up with all the turmoil.
I've said this before, but again, for the new folks, let me say: I don't want pity or sympathy. I want support. I don't want to be told any bullshit about how "it'll all work out" or "it's ok" or "it could be worse." I'm perfectly aware of all of those things. Just try to imagine yourself in my position right now and think about what YOU would want to hear before you offer up your sentiments. I'm just trying to get through, all I can do is all I can do, and I know that it will work out however it's supposed to.
Wishing for Peace & Calm,
Lola
Here's a vague idea of what I'm dealing with at the moment:
As of right now, my life is in complete turmoil. Work is crazy, my house is a mess, and all my near-future plans are up in the air once again. The DH has a herniated disk between C6 & C7 vertebrae, and his medical team all believed that while surgery was a likelihood, physical therapy would help enough for a while. Right about the same time this diagnosis was handed down, we had some other turmoil with his employer (AKA the US Army) deciding that he had been stateside long enough & it was time to get him out of the country. Our choices were pretty unattractive: Move to another post elsewhere in the country, from where he would likely deploy to the Middle East; or, he would volunteer to go to South Korea for a year so that he would be able to return to our home here. However, his medical team has decided that he cannot put off the surgery for a year while he is deployed, so it must be done very soon. They've scheduled the surgery for mid-August, which is the worst possible time for me with regard to my job. So we're trying to massage the dates a bit, a 6-month deferment on his orders is likely, and EVERYTHING we were planning for the next month or 2 is up in the air. I'm overwhelmed, upset, frustrated, scared, and just downright mixed up. I'm trying desperately to be strong and smart and keep everyone at least satisfied...I have so many proverbial balls in the air that something will have to give, and soon.
I don't care to get into my feelings/wishes/hopes/dreams for my DH's career right now, but suffice it to say, I would be totally happy to have him become a civilian. I know that financially it's not the best move, but I also know that money doesn't matter to me as much as my DH does. I'm just trying to get through one day at a time, but it's hard to keep re-arranging my thoughts and feelings to keep up with all the turmoil.
I've said this before, but again, for the new folks, let me say: I don't want pity or sympathy. I want support. I don't want to be told any bullshit about how "it'll all work out" or "it's ok" or "it could be worse." I'm perfectly aware of all of those things. Just try to imagine yourself in my position right now and think about what YOU would want to hear before you offer up your sentiments. I'm just trying to get through, all I can do is all I can do, and I know that it will work out however it's supposed to.
Wishing for Peace & Calm,
Lola
Monday, July 6, 2009
The keys to Lola...
...or at least some help in understanding some of my commonly-used terms:
DH=Darling Husband, or Damnit Honey! They mean the same thing anyway. lol
DA=Dumb Ass, though they're also his initials...he's a particular obsession of mine. Those of you who are following my blog from MySpace to here know all the gory details. (Well, most of them, anyway...) Those of you who are new to this with me should have some background. However, it's too long for me to post right now, so I'll get into that one later. Suffice it to say, he is still one of my "favorite" topics.
Splenda Daddy=My Splenda Daddy has the title of fake boyfriend #1. He's older than me, but he doesn't actually give me money or pay for my housing or feed me or sleep with me or anything. So he's not a sugar daddy but a sugar substitute. Hence, Splenda Daddy. He's just a darling, gorgeous older man with whom I am slightly obsessed.
Adam Levine=My #2 fake boyfriend. He would likely prefer that I call him William Shatner (have I said too much?!), but the 1st time I saw him, he reminded me of Adam Levine. In fact, I called him that. At any rate, he's a tall, gorgeous blue-eyed obsession of mine. I just can't figure him out and it makes me crazy...
The Original Future Husband #2=Well, this is sort of self-explanatory, no? He & I agreed to be each other's 2nd spouses, long before I got married even. He's not married yet, but he once told me he wanted enough kids to have his own baseball team, so he better get crackin'. That's why I agreed to be Wife #2. #1 can have the kids & raise 'em, then they can support us in our trailer down by the lake...
Let's see, what else? I suppose those of you who don't know me might be a tad confused. Suffice it to say, I'm madly in love with my DH and completely faithful. HOWEVER, I am an incorrigible flirt, and that is why I have all the extra boyfriends & such. They make my wonderful life even happier.
I'm a Pastafarian. If you don't know what that is, get thee to http://www.venganza.org/ IMMEDIATELY and begin your new education.
I don't want children. I don't like children (with the exception of a special few). They make me uncomfortable to an extreme degree. However, nearly all the charities I support are children's charities. Figure that one out.
I don't believe in the death penalty anymore. To learn about the case that changed my mind, please visit http://www.wm3.org/. For a more impartial look at the case, check out http://www.trutv.com/, click on the TruTV library and search "West Memphis Three." See also "Paradise Lost: The Child Murders at Robin Hood Hills" documentary. If you already believe our legal system is broken, this will infuriate you. If you think our legal system is totally fair and impartial, this will rock your world. It can happen to you.
I'm an actress, a singer, a dancer, a movie slut, a TV addict, a relentless flirt. I love Havianas flip flops and Christian Louboutin heels. I follow fashion and love makeup and jewelry, but I am not afraid to be seen in public wearing Victoria's Secret jammie bottoms. I love food & wine, good conversation and dark humor. I'm wild and complicated and random and actually quite in love with myself (in a healthy way, of course!) but I'm not above making an ass of myself or being the butt of a good joke. I'm intelligent but also known to be kind of a dingbat. I love a good argument, Monty Python, text messaging, and photography. I love aquariums, road trips with my husband, tattoos, piercings, and postcards. I read...I read A LOT! Books, magazines, cereal boxes, the newspaper, online gossip, you name it. I cannot be summed up.
I leave you with the immortal words of Evita Peron as imagined by Andrew Lloyd Weber:
"Have I said too much? There is nothing more I can think of to say to you...But all you have to do is look at me to know that every word is true..."
Hugs & Kisses,
Lola
DH=Darling Husband, or Damnit Honey! They mean the same thing anyway. lol
DA=Dumb Ass, though they're also his initials...he's a particular obsession of mine. Those of you who are following my blog from MySpace to here know all the gory details. (Well, most of them, anyway...) Those of you who are new to this with me should have some background. However, it's too long for me to post right now, so I'll get into that one later. Suffice it to say, he is still one of my "favorite" topics.
Splenda Daddy=My Splenda Daddy has the title of fake boyfriend #1. He's older than me, but he doesn't actually give me money or pay for my housing or feed me or sleep with me or anything. So he's not a sugar daddy but a sugar substitute. Hence, Splenda Daddy. He's just a darling, gorgeous older man with whom I am slightly obsessed.
Adam Levine=My #2 fake boyfriend. He would likely prefer that I call him William Shatner (have I said too much?!), but the 1st time I saw him, he reminded me of Adam Levine. In fact, I called him that. At any rate, he's a tall, gorgeous blue-eyed obsession of mine. I just can't figure him out and it makes me crazy...
The Original Future Husband #2=Well, this is sort of self-explanatory, no? He & I agreed to be each other's 2nd spouses, long before I got married even. He's not married yet, but he once told me he wanted enough kids to have his own baseball team, so he better get crackin'. That's why I agreed to be Wife #2. #1 can have the kids & raise 'em, then they can support us in our trailer down by the lake...
Let's see, what else? I suppose those of you who don't know me might be a tad confused. Suffice it to say, I'm madly in love with my DH and completely faithful. HOWEVER, I am an incorrigible flirt, and that is why I have all the extra boyfriends & such. They make my wonderful life even happier.
I'm a Pastafarian. If you don't know what that is, get thee to http://www.venganza.org/ IMMEDIATELY and begin your new education.
I don't want children. I don't like children (with the exception of a special few). They make me uncomfortable to an extreme degree. However, nearly all the charities I support are children's charities. Figure that one out.
I don't believe in the death penalty anymore. To learn about the case that changed my mind, please visit http://www.wm3.org/. For a more impartial look at the case, check out http://www.trutv.com/, click on the TruTV library and search "West Memphis Three." See also "Paradise Lost: The Child Murders at Robin Hood Hills" documentary. If you already believe our legal system is broken, this will infuriate you. If you think our legal system is totally fair and impartial, this will rock your world. It can happen to you.
I'm an actress, a singer, a dancer, a movie slut, a TV addict, a relentless flirt. I love Havianas flip flops and Christian Louboutin heels. I follow fashion and love makeup and jewelry, but I am not afraid to be seen in public wearing Victoria's Secret jammie bottoms. I love food & wine, good conversation and dark humor. I'm wild and complicated and random and actually quite in love with myself (in a healthy way, of course!) but I'm not above making an ass of myself or being the butt of a good joke. I'm intelligent but also known to be kind of a dingbat. I love a good argument, Monty Python, text messaging, and photography. I love aquariums, road trips with my husband, tattoos, piercings, and postcards. I read...I read A LOT! Books, magazines, cereal boxes, the newspaper, online gossip, you name it. I cannot be summed up.
I leave you with the immortal words of Evita Peron as imagined by Andrew Lloyd Weber:
"Have I said too much? There is nothing more I can think of to say to you...But all you have to do is look at me to know that every word is true..."
Hugs & Kisses,
Lola
Introduction
Hello All, and welcome to my new blog. My name is Lola Louboutin, so chosen because 1) whatever Lola wants, Lola gets and 2) because I love shoes and Louboutin's red soles speak to my red soul. That being said, however, I must say that this blog will not often be about shoes. (I can't say I will never write about shoes, because I do freakin' love shoes!) There are plenty of shoe blogs out there who can and will continue to do it better than I ever could. All in all, Lola is my alter-ego. I'm writing this blog because I love sharing, venting, arguing, explaining, and emotionally vomiting on line for others to read and commisserate with. Those of you who know me are already familiar with my style. Those of you who don't, I hope you will get to know me and allow me to get to know you as well.
Just to warn you all, I'm super-random and this blog will also be all over the place!
Thanks for your time and welcome along on this new journey I'm taking!
Lola
Just to warn you all, I'm super-random and this blog will also be all over the place!
Thanks for your time and welcome along on this new journey I'm taking!
Lola
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