Thank you for all of your comments and support. I’ll not try to kid myself nor any of my readers about my state of mind right now, which has some to do with not going to Arizona but has more to do with my life in general.
They say like draws like, so I try to keep a positive attitude and regularly give myself pep talks. It wasn’t lost on me that I was where I was supposed to be, and that wasn’t in Arizona, but catering a party for 100 people and making enough money to buy Nate’s medicine this week and have some left for cat litter, gas, and eye makeup remover. Although the reason for being here instead of there has not yet revealed itself, unless the real reason is that the Universe is truly trying to make me as fucking miserable as possible before revealing this “big thing.”
For some reason, my thoughts have been on AZ, not the state, but the person, a lot this morning and afternoon. Perhaps the reason being that his first wedding anniversary approaches and with it, a lot of baggage I wish I could just stop, drop, and roll on. A part of me wonders if I should tell him how I feel and have felt for a long time. Just get it over with and have my say. I’m not sure what that will accomplish. However, one of the new Black Stone Cherry songs covers my feelings on this subject. Its from the song “The Bitter End” –
I will never forget
All the things you said
I never heard you say you’re sorry
I hate you for leavin’ me dead
I did see T-Bird at her son’s birthday party where I was inundated with negativity and a list of her ongoing medical problems, and the inevitable embarassment of half the people in our group using some of the seven bad words in front of other families in a packed house of the kid’s restaurant with the rat for an icon. Oy vey. Have you ever been in a situation where you’ve been away from someone or something for a while, and then you’re around it again, and realize how much you don’t miss it? Kind of how I felt last summer when I went back to being a paralegal again for two days and I was ready to have my head examined?
I’m not going to lie and say I can’t use all of the seven bad words in one coherent sentence, nor am I going to lie and say I haven’t, however, when in a crowded, kid-friendly environment, I’ve been known to watch my mouth. Some people, including T-Bird, her family, and some of her friends, obviously don’t give a shit and they’re not quiet about it. So, that situation is still squating there like a toad.
My friend’s relationship with the Greek Adonis is progressing. Guess he decided the “male code” did not apply (and it doesn’t). I’m pretty surprised at how much hearing her talk about it is bothering me. I guess a year of noticing all of his fine qualities, like his manners and kindness, in addition to his good looks, hasn’t really gotten me anywhere. My reciprocation of his manners and kindess didn’t get me anywhere either. That’s a bitter pill to swallow.
I’m sure I’ll have a dose of bitterness tomorrow also over one of my co-workers. I have a great deal of affection for the young chef – not the aforementioned young chef that went back to culinary school, but the one who has been there since I started. He turned 18 last Tuesday. Last night at the catering, he was basically head chef, as he was our only chef, taking direction from owner chef, but then left on his own to woo and wow the masses. As his helper, I took direction from him and I was pleasingly surprised at his maturity and grace under pressure. (Especially when one lady, not happy with the ginormous portions of grilled flatbread and the ackee dish we had on the tables, decided to help herself to the salads and fruit we had covered on the table.) Ackee, by the way, is the national fruit of Jamaica man. It is de-lish!
Not that I haven’t flirted with him before, because I’m not bashful, but I honestly have a lot of affection for him, which everyone frowns upon because I’m 20 years older than he is and because I chose to treat him like the mature young man he is, versus my child or kid brother. I may be no Demi Moore and he’s no Ashton Kutcher, but I have a feeling I’ll be telling my co-workers to butt the fuck out of my friendship with him. I have no vile, evil intentions and they can just get over it.
And that prayer thing that Vince mentioned in my last comments, yeah. Well, I can’t say my faith hasn’t been shaken quite a bit in the past 22 months. I’ve prayed a lot, and I’ve told them and myself, that I know there is a purpose for everything that has happened. I’ve told myself that “God doesn’t like a quitter,” nor anyone who sits around waiting on life to happen to them, that a knight on a white horse isn’t going to show up and rescue me and all rescues should be self-induced. Sitting around in my house isn’t going to accomplish anything so I make that effort to go somewhere other than work and home, whether it be here or beyond. And, there’s the whole positive-attitude-white-light-projecting-pep-talks and the vile job of shaking off negative baggage and dealing with crap instead of just stuffing it further into the deep confines of my heart and psyche.
I mean, who wants Mr. Right to show up and me in the Wrong Place emotionally?
In as far as Mr. AZ, well, I learned a lot from that whole bullshit. I’ve definitely learned that I do have the capacity to hate someone with every sub-atomic particle in my body. The problem with that, is that you have to really care to hate someone and I really do care. The rest of the lyrics from “The Bitter End” tell a tale of love and hate.
(Through these times)
I’ve always held your hand
(By your side)
Everyday you couldn’t stand
(I’ll hold on) to see you rise again
(I’ll still love) You ’til the bitter end
‘Til the bitter end
I’m ready for the bitter end, okay? I know why I haven’t moved on past this yet and its because I had a huge emotional investment in AZ. I spent a greal deal of time walking around indifferent and numb and now I’m just pissed. I am very angry because I feel as though he took advantage of my love for him and used me at his discretion. I hate the fact it still bothers me. I hate the fact I fell for it. Its EMBARASSING to be played so fucking hard and buy into it with your whole fucking soul. Which is exactly what I did.
After Kevin died, he and I spent a lot of time together and on the phone. She wasn’t around and he and I did what couples do to console one another, emotionally, mentally, physically. And later he said, “I asked her not to be there and she said for me to take my time and she would be there when I was ready,” like she was some kind of saint. Oh, after I get him through the screaming, crying part of it, she can take the spoils of war. I told him, “Its not about whether she’s willing to be there for you, its about how much you’re willing to let her be there for you…” and he looked at me and the “like you are” was spoken.
Pretty powerful shit there. Don’t get invested in that. It didn’t mean shit, at least not to him, because two weeks later, he asked her to marry him. That’s what I meant to him – nothing. To believe anything else, regardless of what he did for me after the fire, regardless of all of the talks we had, the porch time, the backrubs, the blowjobs, the pussy lovin’, the laughter, the blood, sweat, and tears, the hugs and kisses, to believe anything other than it was a big fat fucking head game and that I EVER meant anything to him is detrimental to my recovery.
Given that I would rather not make this mistake again, and given that I would prefer not to carry this sort of baggage into another relationship, I’d better get crackin’ on making this the end. I’d like to truly get to the point where I am indifferent, not numb indifferent, just indifferent, because the opposite of love isn’t hate, its indifference. Its past time for the bitter end.