Okay fine. I shall blog. But I can’t guarantee you will like it. Please note that after this is out of my system, I shall return to interior monologues, recaps of my drunken outbursts, and *gasp* making fun of people.
Typically, I hate blogs that bitch about relationships and love and how love sucks and relationships suck and we’re all just going to have sex without commitment or strings and how it’s better to just trash on the lovers of the world because they have something we don’t. It’s all so negative.
I hate blogs that say things about how love is so elusive and stupid and how it only happens once and how we should all just kill ourselves because it will never happen to us. The ones that make fun of people that still believe. The ones that make us feel like we’re Peter Pan and the Lost Boys clapping because it will make Tinkerbell come back to life.
I would much rather write about the surety, the certainty I feel when I look into my heart and I see that it is Good. And Worthwhile. And Lovable. I would much rather tell you about how I know that there’s something out there for me, made for me, waiting. Hoping, like I am, making it through the day, just like me.
I would much rather write about how I believe that even if you fuck up, there is a way back. There is a way to fix what broke. There is a way to kiss it and make it all better.
Even if there isn’t.
I would much rather tell you, that I am in love. That I have found someplace to rest my head for a while. That I have found the hand to hold while I’m walking through the grocery store, the leg to wrap my foot around just before I fall asleep, the face to wake up to in the morning. The spark that lasts past the first week, and into the second, and through that whole year, and into the next, and ongoing until I die.
I would love to tell you that someone has opened my eyes to the wonder that is Them, and helped me see beyond the ordinariness of everyday, and into something Real.
Sadly. This blog is not about those things.
It is not some announcement that I have found my Soul Mate, nor how I have finally looked into someone’s eyes and seen someone that sees me back. Someone that understands me, and knows who I am, and can live with the fact that sometimes I am flighty, and sometimes I forget things, and sometimes I lock my keys in the car, and sometimes I forget to let the dog out, and sometimes I get drunk and mouthy, and sometimes I say what I’m thinking before my brain catches up. I’m not telling you that I found someone that “tolerates” the fact that I need my independence, and I have walls, and I have difficulty with closeness, that sometimes I walk away because it’s the easier thing than staying. It’s not about someone, who instead, appreciates my honesty, my creativity, my genuine, sincere, unapologetic self. Appreciates that in the morning I resemble a kitten that just woke up, that my eyes say more than my mouth ever will, that I am willing to grant him the space to grow, to realize himself, to just be. With me.
It unfortunately is not meant to tell you that someone loves me, and wants me, and wants me to be with them, even if for just a moment, even if for just a season, even if for just a lifetime.
It seems, after all, that this is about how love (or what might have been) truly sucks. Really. Seriously.
It seems that once again the ground really isn’t solid, no matter how much I wish it had been, that after all, there was a pit waiting to swallow me up. It’s about how disappointment can so eviscerate someone, so completely dehumanize them, that it seems they might never become real again. Even if it really was just only for a moment…only a moment in which I might have seen that it could be something…a little more than it is right now.
It’s about how I am reminded why I don’t fucking go there. A reminder why it’s sofuckinghard to trust someone, to be vulnerable, to be open. A reminder why, sometimes, it’s easier to say “No” than it is to actually open that door, any door, because I’m too afraid to walk through it.
This blog is about how fucking easy it is to distance yourself from someone who deserves your honesty and your sincerity and your respect. About how simple it can be to write those words that tell me, “You’re not worth the effort it would take to actually say this to your face. You’re not worth the time it would cost me to give you a little piece of honesty and truth about what’s going on in my head. I may have liked you, and your body, and your sex…but you were never my friend.”
So yeah, this is a bitchblog about love. Sorry. It is what it is and I blogged it so I can’t take it back now. And frankly, I don’t want to. What the fuck is blogging for if it’s not meant to get your thoughts out of your fucking head and out there where people can see, and dissect, and judge you however they see fit?
At least, if it’s out here, it’s not bouncing around in my skull like some stupid commercial jingle that I can’t stop from playing over and over and over and over and over.
So. Here’s what. Tomorrow I shall wake up, and the Dog shall be standing on my head and licking in my ear, asking me to let him out. Tomorrow I shall see the sun and the sky and hear the music pouring from my headphones as I go about my daily business, telling me that really, life is not over, love is not over, the light really has not gone out. Not yet. Not soon.
I still have a hundred miles to empty.
Tomorrow I shall drive to work with my favorite “girl power” country music on, singing at the top of my lungs, telling everyone that passes me how glad I am to at least be alive, to at least be here, in this moment, feeling something. Tomorrow I shall remember what it is that I’m all about, and how I really do believe in love, and how I really do think that all of everything I said was possible, really actually is.
But not tonight.
Tonight it’s just a bitchblog about love.