The clothesline

From that same window where I had observed sun rising from the sky, I saw two clotheslines hanging from one side of the house to the side of another house. A wheel that allows one to wheel the clothes in and out. When they have been sun dried and kissed. There were four pieces of black clothing hanging on one of the two lines, the further out one, and three gray shirts and a pair of white underwear hanging on the line closer to me.

I stood by the window, where I often admired the rising sun over the bay, and I watched the clothes being blown gently by the northern wind. This is a beautiful apartment, one that I could get used to. One I have gotten used to, on occasion. The clotheslines reminded me of another house, another house I owned, a similar clothesline hung from the deck. It was installed by the prior owner. If you traced the line, you'd see it ending at the other side of the street on a pole. The backyard ended before the line ended. The clotheslines contained the same mechanical component. I was always fascinated by it. I liked how it went on and on. On that deck I could see the bay also, the east bay. At that precise moment, I had a daring thought. I wanted to invite B to see my other house.

B stood next to me, and said, "Isn't that cool? I wanted to do a photo documentary of the clothes that have been hung on those lines. It's illegal to have clotheslines in San Francisco, can you believe it?" 

"Such a shame." I answered. I liked clotheslines. I liked clothes hanging on the clotheslines. They smelled wonderful, like the sun, like the spring, like the air. They take on the surrounding environment. Whatever and however the world smelled next to them, they smelled like them. It became them. My old house in the hills had a clothes line, though they were not used. It was surrounded by eucalyptus trees. I wished that I had strung some clothes. At my house now, I had built two clothes lines in the backyard. But I rarely did my own laundry, so I imagined one day my maid would have done something with the lines, though I was never quite sure. As she came in during the day, before my return. In my house in France, there were two clothes lines as well. They were strung from the stone walls to the large pine trees all the way to the back of deep yard. I imagined my previous owner hang colorful silk dresses on those lines in the summer, next to the lilac bushes.

"Often they would have different colored clothes on the lines. There was a pattern." B continued. That day, the color of the clothes on the line were monochromatic. He seemed disappointed. I pictured some days there would be a rainbow colored soft silk shirts all lined up. They'd be blown by the gentle wind, and instead of clothes they looked like the colorful blue and red clothes hung just below the translucent plastic ceiling at a typical Southern Indian open market. 

Earlier that afternoon, B and I laid quietly next to each other, we had drifted into sleep, after we'd spent the earlier part of the afternoon exploring each other. He asked me about my childhood after I woke up. So I shared some stories.

Once B wrote to me that he wanted to get to know me more, about my childhood, my life back in the motherland, and my background. I found myself telling B about moving to a high school where they had a dormitory and how I ended up in one when I was only 12. I had been out of the house since I was 12 years old. B listened and occasionally asked questions. I had gone back to my journals from 1998, I used to tell him all those things, or at least somethings about me, but B had forgotten about them. We were once close, and then we drifted apart, by the time we came back to each other, we had to start all over again. I knew nothing of him. He knew nothing of me. We were two strangers who were drawn to each other's scents. It took two plus years for me to ask questions about B.

"What are you?" I asked.

"I'm part German. Part English or Irish." He answered as I examined two ancient photos of his ancestors. They moved to Nebraska. He said.

Last year while I was in France, he visited his relatives in Nebraska with his son. I knew so little about him, yet I remembered everything he told me. 

Under the sunlight I saw wrinkles on B's face. I saw not the 32 year old man I first met but this 48 year old man who was and is still the love of my life, after two plus years. He kissed me and held me tight. I asked him what time was our Christmas dinner, he said, "on the early side". I said, "Yes so that we could take advantage of early bird special for senior citizens. Like the Sizzler."

He laughed. I wanted a future with this man. I wanted to celebrate his fifty's birthday with him. I wanted to take him somewhere, far, ancient, and full of clotheslines.

I must walk away

I have resisted answering this text. I don't mind being involved with him physically, but he's hollow. He has no soul. He does not feel and he does not know how his conduct affects others. He mistreated me, and he took advantage of me. I gave a year and half of my affection and love to him and he did not give a crap about it and he simply ignored me when I needed him the most.

What kind of person does that? I crave him. I absolutely crave him. I crave being with him, having him wrapping his body inside of mine, I crave his smell, his touch, his kiss and his scent. I am addicted to him. It's a terrible addiction.

But I can't give up. I must not give up. Love is a war. Love is absolutely a war. There is always a winner and a loser. I want to be the winner. The winner is the one who spoke the least.

Perhaps one day he'll miss me. He'll realize what he had was pretty grand, and what he had was my love, and I'd have done everything and anything for him, and he ignored me and mistreated me so much that I had to leave.

Perhaps, but I must have courage. I have to stay strong, and stay away from him.

He's bad news. I didn't mind to have sex with him without emotional attachment. But he wanted my emotional attachment in addition to sex and he wanted me to give everything to him, and then he just left, and leave me with nothing. And when he was horny and wanted me, he then texted me and wanted me. No apologizes no nothing, And that does not work for me. If he does not say sorry, and change his ways I have no business to do with him.

And since he won't do any of it, the only thing that I can do, is to walk away. I'll cry along the way, but I must stay strong, and walk away. 

Orange car, cliff, wind, and whisper

On Sunday, dreamed of an orange car, parked by the cliff, waves crashing the shore, it was Hana beach in Maui, I had driven my convertible and saw the orange car. I pulled a stop and a quick illegal U-turn and headed to the other way. Woke up and I was shivering. shaking non stop.

On Monday late afternoon, rapid footsteps walking towards my gym, all I sudden, I heard a voice whispering, "Baby I'm crazy about you." I stopped suddenly. Paralyzed and shocked, I started to tremble uncontrollably, barely pulled out my cigarette and lid it up, and took a bit deep puff before I could stop my trembling.

Yes, he did a number on me.

He did such a number on me, he got to me.

No one has ever gotten to me as he did.

No one got me as he did.

No one made me feel the way he did.

Yet I can't be in touch with him.

I can't because that's a road to hell.

Never once did I realize that when love goes wrong, you are broken. Spiritually and physically. A mess. A total mess.

No one could repair you. No one could heal you.

Those sudden memories, surge of history, come back to haunt you just as you tried to move on.

I don't know where my life goes from here, but I do know, I'm alive. I have loved, once again, but lost, and broken.

Counting the days when the pain will go away

I count the days.

I count the days I would stop crying. Stop fantasizing returning to him. Be kissed by him, be carried away by him. Be told by him that he loved me and he was sorry.

I count the days I would stop thinking about him. Stop hurting myself for wanting to be with him. Stop dreaming about being with him. Stop fantasizing and recalling the way we used to be.

I cry.

I cry because I don't know what else to do.

The words, the kind words he says about how he liked the way I look were exactly how it used to work on me, every time. The moment he said something nice like that, I used to run back to him. He used to say things like this and I just melt.

They were just words. Carefully crafted words to lure me back.

On the other hand, I wondered if our interaction, our courtship is largely based on that. Based on the fact it was all just a fantasy. He enjoyed being with me. He enjoyed courting me, and when I was being warm and needy he back away. When I was distant and cease to exist in his life, he misses me.

I know how it would go. It just takes me to say "I miss you".

He will reply, "I miss you too."

Then I'd say "Can I see you?"

He will say, "Yes."

And we'd go back to exactly where we started and I'll end up where I end up today.

Broken.

I can't. I can't. I can't.

But I love him.

I love every inch of him.

When I'm with him, I'm the happiest person in the world.

When I'm not with him, I'm also the most miserable person in the world.

I know he still wants me. He always will.

He thinks I'm beautiful.

But I don't feel wanted.

I don't believe that he desire me anymore.

I don't want to be with anyone who no longer wants me.

Tattoo, he and I

Grab my hand, a ghost grabbing my hand, and I felt his breathe, his soundless caressing, now his hand on my spine, and he's whispering "Baby I'm crazy about you." I shivered. I was walking, cigarette on hand, I was walking, briskly, heading up Market, where my gym is waiting for me, and where I could find a piece of sanctuary, where I could figure out what I needed to do to shut him out. But I can feel him. I can feel him. That's the crazy part, I can feel him. Every inch of body, I feel him.


Then this evening, his note arrived. He wrote, "Lovely pictures. It's an elegant tattoo. You look great in all directions. Even from behind you are beautiful." 

I started bawling. I had thought that I could face him and be friends, but I can't. It was clear, I can't and I'm not going to contact him.

The wound is still too fresh. I can't be there because he still has control over me. 

Road to recovery

Woke up late. Got a few texts. Some are from friends, some are from that crazy stalker. Delete.

Today is a new day. I had worked so hard finding that self of 1990s, lost a big chunk of memories and did not know what's what any more. The me that I found was timid, did anything and everything for the guy she was with and absolutely couldn't stand up for herself.

But now my memories are coming back. About the 2000s of me. I was loved by a good man. A man who's very intelligent, smart, good hearted, funny, tall, very educated and successful. He loved me despite the fact that I was younger by 7 years, I was ignorant, while I was smart, I was not well educated (due to the unfortunate circumstance of coming here on my own at a young age), I did well professionally, impressive even, but I was not well read or aware of the world. I was limited in my world's view. I was more or less a party girl. I was attractive, and had a good energy and I was surrounded by girlfriends who loved me. The man I met was a professor's son, intellectual, and liberal.

We decided to build a life together. You see, I had finally figured out at the time, after not taking any more crap from men, that I was perfectly on my own and I was able to snap out of my sorrows and stop  being a victim of men. I stopped being this timid, traditional Asian woman who did whatever the guy told me to do, I instead had grown up to be a respectable, strong, fantastic woman who was perfectly good on her own.

It was only then, did a man of my equal strength came along. He loved me. Just the way I was.

He still love me, just the way I am.

Perhaps that's all I need to know. When I slip and want to think about the person who had come into my recent life and wanted to change me and wanted me to change for him and wanted me for his own selfish twisted reasons and denied me each time when I wanted something from him, and took pleasure in denying me, I need to think, I'm better off now.

I said goodbye. I left.

Now I'm free. I am free to recover my 2000 - 2010 memories, I'm free to work on myself again. I'm free to be me. And I'm going to love again. I will love again. He taught me what not to look for in a man - deception, secrets, abusive, manipulation, dismissive, absent, disrespectful, lack of compassion. I will love those who love me back, and I will learn to love the man who gave me everything I ever needed, and more. I will learn to work on it, work on getting the magic back, work on making him to understand what's important to me, and work on myself to learn to love a man who is nearly the saint. Who knows me more than I know myself and who has always been there for me. I'm a fucking lucky person and I am going to make this work, I swear. I must.

I shall go back and find that girl who survived it all, who left those men behind, and found her own voice, her strength, her true companion, her true partner and greet her, hug her, and give her the strength to move on from this detour, this terrible mistake, and tell her,

"You can do this. Smile, no more tears. no more. Be good to yourself, love yourself, and be yourself."

I know my friends would agree. They've been telling me all along. I must see that. I have to see that. I must move on.

Piss off, seriously

Got a few more angry texts from some guy whom I allegedly stood up. First of all, if I did tell him to come and pick me up at a bar, I had completely forgotten. Forgive me but I have no brain cell to remember anything since last four weeks as I'm dealing with a break up.

Then I did not respond, of course that just pissed him off even more. He sent a few more texts which I refused to respond. I deleted his contact info. I do not do crazies well. I need people to chill but responsive.

Went out and ran a lot of and then came back to the Marina for dinner. Bought a fab French dress. I was looking and feeling good.

Went out again for food with someone else and then to a party.

Have decided to try cognitive behavior self-therapy. Going to stop me from thinking about him.

I dreamed of his orange car parked by a cliff, and I was worried about running into him.

My conscious mind tends to wander to him, wander why he has not contacted me, wander if he would ever choose to directly contact me, wander if he would remember me eventually, wander if he ever cared about me, wander if he was there really, wander if he meant what he said, wander if he was lying the whole time, wander if he felt anything for me.

But then I stop. I stop all together. I don't want any association with him. I deleted his contact info from my phone too. I deleted our text messages. I deleted everything about him.

I never wanted to talk to him again or see him again or want have anything to do with him again.

I never wanted to know anything about him ever again.

He no longer exists in my world. And while a year ago I said that I wanted to break up with him and I couldn't pull the trigger, now I did, and I have and I will always stay on my ground.

He's a self center inconsiderate control freak.

I had no business getting involved with him.

A man like that, if he existed today and is in my obit, I'd be saying, piss off.

No one deserves to be treated with so little respect,  you'd have to be a cheap whore living on the street to put up with that kind of bullshit.

Not a successful, smart, attractive, business woman who is adored by many and loved by many and - does not need any money from anyone. A financially independent attractive smart business woman who has everything people envy.

Not this one. I'm not a wall flower any more. I shall be strong, take care of myself, and tell any man who wants anything to do with me, to either treat me well, or piss off, really, seriously.

Just piss off. 

The first tattoo

Girlfriends made appointment for me to get a tat in the heart of the Mission. I know Mission more than I know my town. I know Mission more than I know SoMa, though not by much. Girlfriends make me happy. I am totally crashing on this blonde chick, she went to grad school in Boston, lived in New York and Hoboken. She's a blonde. Affectionate, responsible and funny. She likes me. I know that. I like her because she fits my M.O. I like men and women who have gone to school in Boston and lived in New York. Added bonus if you are a blond. Sort of kind of fit my M.O. Even more added bonus if you are of German or Scandinavian decent.

They stayed with me and watched me squirm and take deep breath and cry. Better cry over the scorpion tat than the guy who broke my heart. Well, he knew that I was not straight. I knew that I needed to rebound by getting involved with a woman. I've never been with a woman besides the usual make out. I need to be with a woman. It would be kind of weird though as she is a friend of a friend.

I pissed off a guy who allegedly thought he was going to come and meet me at a spa. I am in full vengeance mode. I don't give a shit about guys lately. I sort of just want to hurt them. I have done that a couple of times. It's funny how you don't give a shit about men and then all of sudden they are interested in you. I guess I piss them off because I don't give a shit about them.

It's easy. I don't care and I make them upset. I've done that before. I don't give a shit.

This is the real me coming out.  I sting. Like a scorpion. I'm a scorpio. I have a new tattoo on my upper left back near my left shoulder. I'm a leftie so that makes sense. I must embrace my leftiness.

I can careless about men. I don't give a shit because when your heart breaks, you tend to do what you do best, you resort back to another version of you. I spent 1.5 years being submissive, at work and in my personal life. But now, this version of me is much more straight forward.

I have forged great friendship and working relationship with men. and I know many men like me. But I also know that I must stay strong and stand up for myself and kick some serious ass.

That's who I am, this other version of me is the version waiting to come back out. I was so shy so sad so stuck in my sorrow and my defeat for so long. This version of me was ready to come back out the moment I rid of old.

Now I'm finally me again. I shall be strong, and feisty, I shall not tolerate bullshit and excuses. I shall walk away if I don't like something. Nobody is that important to me. I'm important to me.

So that's the thing now. I'm free.

I can be free because I am rid of my other self, the timid sad submissive self. It's not me. I'm the strong, feisty person who someone recently said, "I'm afraid of working for you." I'm not an easy person to work with. But that's who I am. I get shit done at work.

Lover boy thinks about me and texts me while on vacation with his wife. I don't text back.

The table has turned. No one, no one will have any impact on me. I have a full life, and their existence or absence makes no difference to me.

This is the lesson I have learned from exboyfriend.

No one deserves to be treated like shit.

I must never ever treat myself like shit or put up with his or anyone's shit.

I must be whom I am, always.

Goodbye the old me. Goodbye B

Dear B,

I’m not going to contact you or write to you, because that’s against everything I’ve been taught as an adult. I write. But this is not going to be in your inbox.  I don’t write to you via email anymore. You don’t deserve my attention. This is about me saying goodbye to the old me.

I no longer feel the needs to be with you anymore. I no longer feel the anxiety. I still feel sad but it’s not the sadness associated with wanting you but sadness associated with me wasting my year and half of time spending countless hours thinking about you, trying to get to you, the core of you, hoping to convince you that I could be loved by you.

That’s the sad part. To lose myself. To completely letting myself go and hinging my happiness on your willingness to see me. To imagine that you cared about me at all. To imagine that I meant something to you and not just some pathetic woman waiting to be fucked. I had given myself to you. Willingly, freely, and all I ever wanted was to have some attention from you, yet all I received was a glorified booty calls arranged at your convenience and even that was short lived and often interrupted and rescheduled.

Do you realize how much effort I’ve put into this relationship? Do you realize how ridiculous it is for you to be so dismissive about it in the end and condescendingly telling me that you knew “this relationship has been difficult” for me? Do you realize that you have absolutely lost every ounce of my respect?

If fifteen years of limited interaction and friendship meant nothing to you, what about the last year and half? What about being just a decent human being and afford me the opportunity to say the final goodbye? What about the possibility of being just a friend like we used to be? What type of person are you to disappear like that? Lies. Millions of layered, snowball lies. That’s the essence of you. And, you are someone who really never gave a crap about me or has any respect for me.  What happened there? What happened to all the promises? What about love? What about telling me that you loved me and how lucky you were to have me in your life? Lies, more lies.

Don’t lie. Don’t lie to a woman repeatedly.  You already had her. You did not have to lie to her.  But why? What kind of twisted person are you to lie repeatedly? You never did love me. I loved you. I showed it. You were my priority.

I’m angry for having fallen for you, for having lost myself over this, and for having wasted a year of half of my life on you, when you were simply a shallow, sad, indecent, coward person who couldn’t handle a real, adult conversation, and you lied. You told me many times you loved me. How could you love me? Do you know what love is?

I’m not perfect, I’m flawed. But I once loved you. I once wanted to be with you and I was loyal to a fault. You just kept on pushing my envelope, squeezing out the every last ounce of my dignity and self-respect, discarded my feelings and treated me like some helpless hopeless person who was at your mercy.

Life should not be like this. I should not be treated like this. I should have told you that I deserved more. I should have told you that you mustn't treat me like this or I’d leave. I should have told you that you should stop lying to me by telling me that you loved me. And yes, I should have gotten rid of you a long time ago.

I’m moving on. This is quicker than I had anticipated. But I don’t want to move onto other people. Other men. I want to be me for a while. This happy, productive, loving, caring person who is decent, cool, funny, and smart. I want to stop wasting my energy on men. I want to take care of myself and stop feeling insecure or wish to be loved. I am loved. I need to see that. I need to feel good again.

I always knew the moment I let you go, I will need to buy a country home in France. It’s what’s been calling me. A place where I could finally be free. Perhaps I’d write. Perhaps I’d travel more. Perhaps I’d be myself, smoke a cigarette, and hang out in a café in Paris, and be me. Be entirely me and not worry about what others think of me, or whether you existed. Perhaps at my old age, when you are long ceased to exist even in my ancient memory, I’d be reminded of you. But I’d remember more of my friends. Who stayed with me and helped me to get over you.

It’s been a difficult journey, a year and half of trying to figure out what I wanted or needed from you. As it turned out, what I need is simple. I need to be me.  I need you to be out of my life. I need to surround myself with those who love me and who return my affection. As it turns out, there are plenty of people who want to be in my circle. Men and women, old and new friends. They just want me to be happy. And you made me – NOT happy. They want you out of my life.  My lover has only see the happy side of me. He likes me for who I am. We sometimes just go out and have a drink or dinner. We sometimes don’t see each other for a month. We sometimes just hang out. We don’t tell each other things that we don’t mean. There is nothing calculating about our relationship. It’s just a fact of life.  

It’s nice to hit the bottom and know the worst is behind me. Anyone who can’t make me feel me, has no business in my life. That includes you, B.

Goodbye, B. Goodbye, old me. Goodbye, sad me.

Hello, the evolved me. The struggling, but evolving me.  

I know I will smile again, because the worst is behind me. I am no longer under the control of a sick, twisted, manipulative, disrespectful, coward, heartless person. I'm free. 

A farmhouse in France

There is an old man who runs a little shop by my work. He’s trained in France and had lived in France for a long time. They make fresh baguette every morning and by noon they are done making them. I go and get coffee every morning from him. It’s the best $2 I can ever spend. I start to talk to him about France, about a stone farmhouse I am about to buy. It’s beautiful there, with fruit trees and landscaped lawn in an ancient town that has everything one may need. Daily fresh bread, cheese, vegetables. I don’t speak a word of French but I can learn. I get by because I’m Asian and they respect the fact I speak English, the universal third language.

When I embarked on my journey to find love, I found instead lies. I found that I was quite easily taken advantage of. I was played and I had high hopes for things that meant absolutely nothing, I had thought that I could be loved back. Those were the mistakes even the most intelligent people make. I have seen it over and over again.

But I think the difference is that each time the rebound period is quicker. I had known deep inside I meant very little to the person who allegedly claimed that he loved me. I knew because all along, he lied through his teeth and pretended that he loved me to lure me in. There was no sincerity, there was never any truth to anything he said. But more importantly, he was heartless, thoughtless and careless. Any mature adult would have approached it in a different manner. Any adult would have said, I know you are hurt, I know that it did not work out. I know because I felt your pain. Any adult would have treated this differently. Not disappeared as if he never existed or as if I never existed. Love is not something that I freely gave out. I gave to him because I truly loved him. I know in my world, it only happened once or twice before him. Why did I choose him is a better question but I think it’s best unanswered. I knew the answer. He caught me at a peculiar moment of my life. I let my guard down.  He really did not care so much about me, but he did what he could to lure me in and kept me there, it was more or a less a cat and mouse game. But then, one day, one day I didn’t want to play anymore.

I am back at being as myself. Being myself is pretty cool. I am liked by many and loved by many. I don’t have to lie to anyone any more. I’m happy again.

In that regard, perhaps I am meant to leave this relationship. I’m happy again. I’m happy that I’m me again. I’m happy that he can no longer hurt me, he can no longer make me feel sad, watched, observed, and he can no longer demand me to be his without reciprocation. He can no longer control my emotions and make me feel that I was not worthy of his time or attention. He can no longer put me down.

And for that, I’m thankful. I’m thankful he came into my life. He taught me what not to look for in a man. He taught me how to move on without losing my soul.

The old man and I talk about homes in France. I have found it. A beautiful renovated stone farm house with five bedrooms, 10,000 square feet space, 1700 square feet living space, fruit trees and close to Paris. I’m going to be fine. You see. I have to be fine. I’m me again. 

You are in the blackhole, they are on my collusion course

Out of habit, I still click on the FB's icon, the refresh button, expect his face would show up. His face no longer shows. He ceased to exist, in the FaceBook world of mine anyhow.

At a bar where it's dark and crowded, I tell stories to my colleagues and friends. An ancient story, about an ancient past, about a boy, and a girl, and boy broke the girl's heart by lying, by telling conflicting stories, and by failed to come to her rescue. Girl put up with a lot of things, every single time, nothing is for certain. Girl wanted to believe he loved her, as he said he did, and girl wanted to believe when he said that he needed to see her, he meant it. Until he failed to show up.

"You know what is the screwiest thing of all? I tossed my most favorite necklaces. There were three. They were beautiful, but I tossed them out. I tossed the beautiful purse as well. I loved the one he bought on our first Christmas together. It was among my most favorite possessions of all. I never had a man who bought me necklaces. I never had a man who treated me the way he did when he was with me. I never had a man who adored me so. That's how it was meant to be. I suppose. I was not lucky in love."

The boy who was listening, a young boy who's cute, funny and speaks fluent French and thinks I'm cool, hot and smart, thought it was unthinkable.

"But I'm free now. You see. I am free to do whatever I want. And I am free to post anything I want on FB and not have to worry if he saw it. The closure set me free. He shall never know what I'm doing, who I'm with and what I'm thinking. But sometimes, when I read something funny, when I see something that I thought he'd like to see, I wanted to send a photo or text or an email. But I knew it would be a bad idea. I knew being with him was a bad idea. Loving him was a bad idea, to put up with his bullshit was a terrible idea, but I did it anyway, because I liked our sexual chemistry."

I continue to tell the stories.

"A friend told me to expunge him out of my life.  I followed my friend's advice. I don't want to have any reminders of him.  I hate every moment of pain I had to endure, the uncertainties, the doubts I had for this relationship, for he was always secretive and noncommunicative. Then he stopped desiring me.  A sexless relationship is something I already have. I am married. I need sex. Exciting fun sex. So I had to move on." I finish my explanation.

"Good riddance." The boy says to me. Boy likes older women. Boy likes me. I can tell. I'm likable, funny and I smoke like boy does. I have picked up smoking, twenty year of clean. Now ruined. I show the boy the tat. Boy really likes it. Possibly the most interesting woman he's met who works in this special field. I'm an interesting person.

"So let's talk about New Orleans." We go back to work planning. Next big meeting is in New Orleans. Boy knows a football player a Saint fooballer, and some other buddies. He wants me to go with him earlier, on Friday evening to party with him until Monday. I do love New Orleans. Boy is from the East Coast. I tell boy I frequent New York. He wants to join me the next time I'm there. Boy invites me up north in the East Coast for a week long planning session and already has restaurants picked out for every night.

"I'm married." I say.

"That just means the guy needs to try harder." Boy says. I"m not sure if he's saying it generically or had meant something more specific.

I tell this story about a Chinese man who sued his wife for defrauding him. She had plastic surgery, and gave him an ugly baby, man did not know that his bride was not so pretty before he met her, got a divorced and sued for emotional damage, and got money. That's Chinese court system for you.

I tell boy about my trip to the Far East.

Boy is blond, blue eyes, left handed. I like those characteristics. I like left handed man. My ex boyfriend was left handed. I told him that I was getting married to someone else. He to this date stays in my life. Return every email I send and always just a phone call away. This other boy, a man, who broke my heart, and took a piece of me with him, was also left handed. He was subdued and withdrew. He did not like me in the end to tell me anything that had anything to do with truth. He said a lot of "We should do this and that", but nothing happened. He didn't want me in the end. I wanted to cry but boy is being very funny. He's also planning for my trip to New Orleans and the guy friends he wants me to meet.

I'm free. You see. I'm finally free. I am finally free because I no longer have to bear the thought of ever knowing that he existed, except for my fading memory. No pictures of him no memories of him, and nothing reminded me of him either. He was never there, it was just a figment of my imagination.

That's why expunge is so good in so many fronts. I have absolutely nothing to remind me of him. Not even if I tried.

But I have learned a lot. I have learned to play the field again. The man who played me like a fool, played the field expertly. I'm a quick learner. Now I do the heart breaks.  Men start to orbit in my sphere again. As this man orbits away and disappears into the next galaxy, many stars are appearing from nowhere. They are on the collusion course with me. And I shall prevail, this time. 

Dear B, 

Thank you sincerely, for finally teaching me to play this game of breaking hearts. I'm a fast learner. I'm good at it now.  I can break some serious hearts. I intend to return "favor" to other men. That's how the vicious cycle continues. You hurt me. So it's my turn to hurt others. 

Let the game begin!

A boy and girl; a girl with a broken heart

"So I think we have a lot in common". The boy tells the girl.

"We both like to go from one topic to another, we both have fun together. We have great sex - I think I gave you lots of pleasure. And we both don't like to talk about football." Boy concludes while wrapped his legs around the girl.

"We both don't do emotions." The girl adds and giggles.

"What are we going to do?" The boy asks the girl as the time is running out.

"Get a cheap hotel?" He is contemplating options.

"I don't know. Do we have to?" Girl says. "We can always use your place. When is your wife gone?"

"She needs to take a vacation. She needs to be gone. So we can have a threesome. A proper threesome." Boy says.

"Then get on with it." Girls edges on. Girl has a tattoo just above her shoulder, off center. It's a scorpion. It's fresh and it's lively. Girl was born a Scorpio. Boy traces his hand over the new tat.

"I like this scorpion.  It's stylized. It's different. It's strong and mysterious."

"Design came from a Dutch artist." Girl says.

"I recall you never wanted a tattoo." Boy asks.

"I never did. I also never thought I'd date you. I never did coke. I never did a threesome with a girl. and I never dated younger men. You are ten years younger than me." Girl says.

"But we have fun together. Don't you think? You are not dramatic, you are easy going.  You are smart. You are pretty. And we get along. No drama." Boy counts the qualities of the girl. Boy grows a beard to make him look older.

Girls turns her back at the boy as his long arm continues to wrap around her body. He's tall, Swedish, and like her old Swedish lover, cares about her in an emotionally removed way. He never fails to see her. Always apologizes if plan has to change and then makes alternate plan AND stick to it. Boy goes to Burning Man every year with his cousins and wife. Boy's father is a professor at a renowned university in the south bay. Boy has blond hair and blue eyes. Just the girl's type.

"I think I like you." Girl says that.

Girl uses words carefully. Never the word of love, miss you, or hon or baby. Just name. Just simple straight forward words that can not be misunderstood. 

Girl does not like to mislead.

This is what it looks like. It's just sex.

But lately girl finds boy seems to want more.  It was supposed to be every other week, but now every week, even if they are not having sex, boy wants to see her.

"We need to set up an account on ashleymadison. To find ourselves a girl." Boy suggests.

"I need you to fuck me in the ass." Girl replies.

"I'd love to." Boy is getting excited again. They have two hour sessions. She calls sex session sexssion cardio.

"Suppose you find this girl, what do we do?" Girl asks the question.

"I know that you want to lick her pussy." Boy says. He seems to be excited even more.

"Yes, and I want you to fuck her while I lick her. And she must have a full bosom. voluptuous body, and she must be into a girl as well." Girl lists criteria for the boy.

"I'll create an account." Boy says.

It's late. They had dinner before fucking. They like to fuck in the rain. When the rain drops and hits the lemon tree in the backyard, when the rain drops and hits the ground.  They fuck passionately.

Boy likes to plant things, cook food and create beautiful instruments to take to Burning Man. Boy has been there 9 times and has many adventures to tell. Girl will not go. Girl likes three showers a day and does not want to run into anyone who may be her professional connection there.

"Make me a meal." Girl kisses boy's neck and lazily spread her legs on the bed.

Boy says. "Yes I'd like that."

Girl likes to be in charge. To tell a boy what to do.

"Does it hurt?" Boy asks the girl.

"What?" Girl responds.

"Your new tat. The scorpion." Girl's long reddish hair spread all over the bed. Soft, long and fragile like her face. Soft and smooth, not anywhere near her real age.

"It did hurt. And it stopped." Girl says.

"Like when my boyfriend hurt me, broke my heart, and treated me like a whore, a call girl, and threw me aside when he was done with me." Girl thought to herself but did not say anything.

"I like this new you." Boy was admiring the tat and her back. She arched forward, and her butt sticking out.

"Do you want to get fucked again?" Boy asks.

"Yes please." Girl agrees that it was time to exercise again. 

Sex has been more than fantastic. Boy aims to please girl and goes down on her, bites her toes and sucks on her nipples. Boy puts lube on and fucks her in the ass. She likes that now. Exboyfriend wanted to do that to her, she refused. But then exboyfriend stopped seeing her. He said that he wanted to see her badly but never made a plan. Exboyfriend seemed bipolar. One moment hot and one moment cold. Enough so that any other woman would have been sent to a crazy state - stalking him, calling him non stop, crying and showing up at his place. But she does not do such things. She knows when to cut her losses. She knows that when she has been repeatedly tormented and mistreated, it's no longer exboyfriend's fault, it's her own. So she stopped expecting and stopped everything, cold turkey. 

Boy's long torso wraps the girl's body like a Danish wool blanket.

The rain started to come down hard. Hitting the windowsill. It reminds of boy Stockholm in August. It rained all the time whenever he was there. But the sun never sets. Boy lived in Stockholm and Oslo. Girl likes Stockholm more. Girl's ex boyfriend lived in a Scandinavian country too, and anything to do with anything about the ex should be exterminated.

"I liked to fuck in the rain. The world seemed to have nothing left but us. I can't believe how many times this has been the case. We've been lucky." Boy tells the girl. Boy always made time for the girl. Boy works long hours, stressful work, and boy made time for the girl. Exboyfriend tells the girl that he is not stressed with work, and work is manageable. But whenever he can't see her, exboyfriend used work as an excuse, "Client issues, must cancel. Work issues, can we postpone?" At some point, conflicting messages only meant one thing. Excuses. Lame excuses to mask lies.

"Like Seattle." Boy adds.

Boy has grown up in Seattle and Stockholm and Olso. Boy likes Sweden, but Boy also likes Norway. Girl does not ask anything about Norway. Exboyfriend lived there. it's not a place that girl is interested in learning. Boy has moved to the bay area some fifteen years ago.

Girl thinks everything happens for a reason. The first man in the recent year she has managed to connect with had traveled down from Seattle to see her. The sex was alright but the man demanded emotional connection which the girl could not offer. When that affair ended, the girl met a friend from a long time ago. She told him why that relationship did not work out. Why she only wanted to be sexually involved with someone. That man listened. And took her in. They had a lengthy relationship, until he demanded her to be "completely his", and that he wanted her emotionally committed to her, he called her my girlfriend and he treated her like a piece of used rag. Except by then the unintended consequence had occurred. The girl actually did form an emotional bond and she fell in love. She began to expect that she'd hear from him more often than once very few weeks. She expected that he'd realize his promise to her, and not cancel all the time on their dates. She wished that she had listened to her head and removed herself from it, but she fell in love. And love was when your brain stops functioning.

So when he fails again and again to realize his promises, he gives up all together and starts to treat her like some sort of transaction. One minute he says he can't wait to see her and the other minute a last minute cancellation, "Can we reschedule to next week?" As if she's his dentist, an appointment that needs to be rescheduled, not his lover, not the girl he just declared how much he missed her and needed her. When he cancelled, it was just like an appointment. A rescheduling of his root canal. She was his aching tooth that need to be extracted. And Sunday apparently was not a good day, thus rescheduling was needed.

Two months have passed since they saw each other last. No one is THAT busy. Girl realized her boyfriend must have found someone else. She is no longer a priority, she is no longer someone he gives a damn about, no matter what he says on paper. So she stops trying. At some point, the last straw is drawn and she has the shortest straw. She lost her game, her heart, her mind and her desire to go on.

It was then, a tremendous turn of events that she should find herself in, she is still in the boy's life, in an expanded role, because boy adores her and cares about her, not in so much words but in actions. Boy is confident, tall, young and extremely smart. Boy knows when he finds his match he won't let her go.

But she does not love the boy. She never did. She couldn't even if she tried. The heart is a fragile thing. It seals off, and takes 15 years to crack open. And when the flood gate opens it opens, but then it shuts down. Like the lock system in Yvonne River in the Burgundy region of France. When the water is flooded out, it's gone, drained and depleted.

She worries if the boy will love her. She can't do love. She has learned from her master. The mass manipulator. The person who has taught her how to seduce. How to win someone's heart and then trample on it. She will not trample or hurt anyone's heart. She's a decent woman. But love is a kiss of death.

She will never utter the world love again. Not in this life time. Not in a romantic way anyway.

Boy is inside of her again. Boy asks, "What type of woman you like?" Girl answers, "A big boobed woman with curves. Prefer she speaks French."

Boy is going to set up a profile. Find a girl, to play with his girl.

Girl starts to cry. Boy stops. "Is everything OK?" Boy asks gently.

"It's the rain, my dear." She says. "The rain makes me cry. I like raining nights."

Girl is crying for the lost of her true love. The man who broke her heart and disappeared into thin air. The man who said that he loved her but when she started to break down and cry and asked for him to say something, he gave her the silence treatment. Girl is crying for her lost innocence, violated trust, and above it all, faith, faith in him, in them, an illusion that he actually cared about her.

But girl does not do emotions in ordinary circumstance. Girl picks up the pieces and move on.

"Say, I met three guys. One Norwegian. One New Yorker and one Southerner. They want to hang out sometime. Banker, lawyer and tax accountant." Girls says to the boy.

"You always meet people. You meet people everywhere." Boy likes that about the girl. She's confident, secure, warm hearted, uninhibited and interesting. They are weird in the same ways. They have always been in sync, since the very first day they met.

"But I only fuck you now." Girl says. It's the truth. It started when boyfriend abandoned her, like her father abandoned her.

Boy kisses the girl, his face is smeared with glitter. Girl is getting dressed.

"We must go. We have to go home." Girl agrees.

"Next Tuesday then." Girl offers some options.

Boy likes to listen and agrees but boy also enjoys to offer opinions.

"I wonder what you will be like when you are 47."  Boy has 17 years to go before 47.

Girl's ex boyfriend is 47. Girl still thinks about him. Girl does not know how to move on without grieving and extrapolate information out of her brain and burn them into ashes, figuratively speaking of course. 

"Going to a party tomorrow. You coming?" Boy asks the girl.

Boy is never worried about showing her off to his friends and colleagues.

"Aren't you worried?" Girl asks.

"Just don't act romantic around me, when we are with my colleagues." Boy adds.

"Do I ever do that?" Girl questions.

"No, you never do. You are in my industry, we are all good."

"Just text me." Girl was being noncommittal.

Girl wants to go out and meet other men. Backup plans and men who would make her feel desirable again. Heartache is the worst kind. It eats you alive. It reminds you how insecure you are. Because you were abandoned. No one wanted you. Not even the one who told you that he loved you wanted you back.

Rebound is exactly what it sounds, it helps you to feel that you are wanted again, not some used baby bath water, poured out on the street. like she's some used car, used goods, and meant absolutely nothing to the man who allegedly loved her back.

The next day will come. Girl will be pursued by other strangers. Girl will be presented different business cards. Each one handing her one. The last one will say, "May I also offer my business card?" Cute boys who work in the city and single. Girl knows how to talk. She has been told she was the renaissance woman. Seduction is at the core of her being. But she never wanted to seduce. She just wanted her man back.

Boy will call her and say "Where are you?" Girl will answer, all sweet. "Oh you can't come to the bar? That's too bad.  Enjoy your party. See you this week. Don't forget to set up the profile." Girl gives orders.

Boy listens and laughs. Boy also needs to buy some nautical rope and tie the girl up and spank her until she is screaming for pain. Girl does not know how to have normal sex. Only the man she was with understood her. But perhaps boy is trainable. Girl is not confident. But girl has to try. Her exboyfriend has abandoned her like she feared. Never ever gave a shit about her. Compartmentalized her, and when she wanted her own rights back, he left her, and went on with 99% of his life as if nothing ever existed between them. 

 That's what happens when your heart is broken. You attempt to create a past that resembles your life before any of this has happened. You try to move on. You try to feel that you are desirable and people will make time for you and care about you. You try to be in control. But you still can't figure out why he left you. He left you crying, helpless, sad, and begging for his return. And he just laughed, or perhaps he just had not thought about you at all. You never existed. You were just a free call girl at his service, his doormat. Until he was tired of you.

Perhaps that's really why. Because you are no longer his object of affection. You no longer mattered to him. You never did matter. And that is the end. 

And with that, you know it's time to move on. It's never easy, but tomorrow is another day. Tomorrow boy will be there, to tell her how much she is wanted and how lucky he is to have found her.

Tomorrow. There is always a tomorrow.

  

On being an idiot, and the procss of moving on

Went out with a girlfriend. Ate, smoked and cried.

I was so in love but I was in love with a guy who used me and did not give a shit about me. I defriended him on FB. I should have done that a long time ago. It was a difficult decision because he was a friend before we were lovers.The FB friend occured years before. But when a love had gone wrong, when someone mistreated you so badly and did not even have the common courtesy to offer a reasonable explanation, and just left and pretended I did not exist, that's what I call it a classic moment of betrayal and dismissal.

He hurt me so much by treating me like shit but gave me those sweet lines as if it meant anything.

I shall never see his face on Facebook. I shall never hear from him. I shall never understand why he dragged this long and never let me go. I shall never understand why he could treat me like this and why a year and some months later he made me feel this way. I shall never understand why he could pretend that he loved me too and told me all those things as if he meant it. I shall never understand why he took advantage of me like this and never gave a shit about me but pretended that he did.

I shall never forgive myself for falling for such a guy.

I could never forgive myself for having trusted him, loved him, and made myself vulnerable.

I could never forgive myself for never voiced my opinion, told him that I loved him enough for me to start a life with him, and asked him what he wanted out of this thing.

This thing he jokingly called as "relationship", told me that he loved me, and pretended that he cared about me, made me feel that I meant something in his life, and this thing that broke my heart called love, all happened before I knew it. I was strong enough to feel vulnerable around him. I was strong enough to take everything that I could take and put up with his bullshit his lies his lack of response his refusal to talk to me on the phone his absolute absence. I was strong enough to open up to him, perhaps because he did not give a crap about me.

I suppose It was wrong to place my trust on a person whom I should never trust to begin with, and it was wrong to love someone who did not give a shit, who only cared about himself and never worried about how much he hurt me until I couldn't take it anymore. I suppose I thought if we started as friends, we'd at least be adults about it and have a conversation about it, not for him to just leave, disappear into thin air.

That's what made me realize how stupid, how terribly ignorant I was about this whole thing. I bought his bullshit, I read his email and thought that when he said that he missed me and wanted to be with me, I believed it. But instead, when he was near me, he never made himself available, he disappeared as soon as he came home. All the empty promises, all the notion of how much he wanted to see me, as soon as he was home, it stopped. He dragged me through high and low as if he was bipolar, one moment he wanted me and can't wait to see me, one moment he was no where to be found. Never answered my calls. Never returned emails.

I would have been completely fine if he never called this a relationship, or told me that he loved me. I had been in relationships for a long time without this level of fake commitment. I would have been completely fine if he did not tell me all those lies, because I liked sex. Our sex was great. But the type  of lies the types of betrayal, the up and downs, that got to me.

I would have been fine. But he got to me. he got to me where no one else could. I had become vulnerable. And then he got bored, but not bored enough to let me go. Just bored enough to make me feel unwanted and disposable. Why would he have to have this twisted need to hurt the woman who probably him?

My offering was the following: Be sexually available, be adventurous, OK if he was in other relationship, as long as he still wanted me, I was always generous, I had the money, the resources to afford anything and everything, I didn't have jet money but if I stopped working tomorrow, I'd be fine. I'd be fine because I have been good at saving and I had invested wisely. I was interested in many things and activities. I could be outdoor running or biking or scuba diving or golfing. I could be indoor listening to a lecture, watch a play, attend a symphony. I traveled around the world. I am successful in my career. And I was submissive to his news.

My asking was so simple: Once in a great while, say once every few weeks to call me or return my call. Return my texts as opposed to never return my texts.  See me every two weeks. Or ever months. or every six weeks. That's it. And not cancel on me last minute all the time. Be responsive, not go on hiding for two weeks and never return an email from me. And lie, lie through his teeth. Every single part of him was a lie. It had never occurred to me that he never gave a shit about me. Even when he told me that he loved me, and that we were in a relationship, and he adored me, he lied. Everything, everything was a lie.

There were many signs. A birthday card given to me declaring his love for me. Gone. The moment he was done with me, the card went with him. He didn't want any evidence of fake love declaration. Photos and videos he took of me, gone, I never got a chance to have it. Never once promised anything and made it happen. Just lies. Lies to make me feel good at the moment but afterwards like shit.

I am supposed to learn something from this.  I guess what I learned was that I should never lose myself, even when sex was great. I should never let man to take advantage of me. I should have trusted my instinct, I should have never trusted him. And I should have left a long time ago.

On a plane from Hong Kong to B.C., I had met this man who thought that I was attractive. He told me about his relationship and I told him about mine. He was puzzled as I was pained. "A girl like you should not be pained." He said. I was a mess then. I am a mess now, but there is no reason to be this way. I have people who genuinely love me.  I have this world who see me as someone else. An inspiration, a model to look up to, and a person who has everything going for her. That's really the core of my being I think. 

One day, one day I will be OK. I know that. I will be OK because I will move on and I will never see or hear from him again. I shall never know why he intentionally hurt me and pretended that he loved me. I shall never know why he said all those wonderful things to me to lure me in and kept me there. I shall never know why he pretended that he cared about me. I do know that I had finally seen his true color. I do know that I had enough and I cannot take his lies any more.I am sad and angry, a man who supposed to be a friend before all of this happened, took the opportunity to gain my trust and then destroyed everything I thought was valuable in a unconventional relationship. The most important part being trust.  When the trust is broken, it does not go back to normal. There isn't anything left but to move on. That's the finality of it all.

That's my lesson to be learned. But hey, even the smartest person in the world can and will fuck up. It just so happens.. this is my turn.

Now I shall cry and grieve, go for a long run, continue to surround myself with men and women who love and adore me, despite of all my flaws, men who always loved me, women who always loved me, but knew what this relationship meant for me, and not be dismissive about it.

One guy friend said, "Cry, let it all out. It'll be good for you. And never ever contact him, and if he contact you, don't read his email, don't answer his call. Don't. Just don't."

So I cry. My eyes are puffy.

I cry because I lost faith in what I thought was love. I lost faith because I trusted a man whom I thought I could trust. I lost faith in me, in the good of me. I thought if I was decent, loving, caring and giving, he would at least respect me and have the decency to tell me that he was sorry. But no, there was never any kindness in his end. He had decided that I was no longer a challenge, and he abused the friendship that was meant to last, a fifteen year long friendship, just so that he could gain control in some twisted game.

My friends tell me to move on, and this time, I shall listen.

Later at night

Texted my friends. Men and Women. Should I?

Every response came within 5 minutes. "Yes. you must."

So I did.

Went through the emails. Deleted them all.

Went through messenger. There were notes from 2008 onwards. Deleted them all.

Removed him from friend's list. He had long blocked my access to FB. He had no desire for me to be seeing his business. Now I have defriended him. Not for him but for me to move on. 

As I'm doing this, I realized that that's exactly what my friend N was telling me. You must expunge. Rid of everything every line of communication. photos. messages, notes and gifts.

Throw out my beautiful necklaces. A brand new purse. No reminders of him should be in the house.

Deleted photos of us. Erased them all from backup drive. We never were together. He never existed.

It must be final.

Any reminder of him would result me wanting to get in touch with him.

He who did not have the courtesy to give me the opportunity to talk one last time. He who is willing to throw fifteen years of history away. Because he did not give a shit about me. That's the irony of it all. We were friends. Friends of fifteen years. Friends who always stayed in touch, somewhat. Friends who were suppose to be friends. Who shared quite a lot in common. Not even one word. Just like that. Who does that? Who does that by throwing years of friendship away? Who would do something like that to a woman who he allegedly loved and cared about?

Late at night as I deleted everything I cry. I cry because I feel like a total idiot. An idiot who actually believed him. Who cared enough about him to make excuses about all of his lies and inconsistencies.

There was never even an ounce of truth to it. That I could forgive. But I coudn't forgive a man who could not and would not have the common decency to return my call, my email, despite a year and some months of relationship. Women who he did not see that often got more closure than me. Women who he claimed to be difficult to deal with got more out of this. Not me. He simply disappeared. I did not exist. I am invisible. I never meant a thing. My friendship, meant nothing. Not a thing. Our sexual adventure, not a thing. And that's when I got angry. I'm upset because he's did not give a shit about me, yet he told me that he cared about me. He acted as he cared. But in the end, he couldn't even have the common decency to have a dialogue with me.

My emotions are very raw and my sadness was real.

I shall never understand what happened. I shall never understand why I meant so little that he didn't even want to given me the closure.

I am, however, in need of moving on. Desperate need. I need to cry. I need to feel that I can't breathe. I need to feel that I can be desirable again. I need to feel that I mattered, maybe never to him, but to others. Then I need to be with someone else. A new guy who would adore and love me and treat me with respect.

I need to know that there will be a hopeful future, where his absence may be hurtful now, one day, one day I will be whole again.

In that regard, I truly hope that I never hear from him again. It'll just prove my theory. My theory was that I meant absolutely nothing to him. Everything was just a show. And he had never loved me, or even desired me. Everything was just a lie. He only wanted to have sex with me as a variety test. He had others in his life, I was his after thought when he was my main thought.

And perhaps that's the easiest way for anyone to move on. To know that you never had love to begin with. To know that he never give a shit about you. To know you meant so little to him, that your hurt, your pain had never registered in his mind. You were nobody to begin with. You thought that he was there, but when they are deleted, it was never there, never there. He never existed. You never got hurt.

He never existed. It was just a nightmare. It was just in your head. And now you are awake. The world has been waiting for you and you will be alright after all.

A cautionary Tale on Love

A sad woman who had always thought that by being submissive, generous, giving, forgiving, and loving, the person she thought she loved, would love her back.

That's a story that would result a sad ending.

It was a formula that never could have worked.

A sad woman who was otherwise successful, happy, funny, and had done so much for herself despite her difficult circumstance, and who was loved by many, and cared by many, and had been lost forever in her own sorrows, and had been vulnerable because she had finally let herself be that person, got hurt, by someone who really did not give a damn about her, or cared about her or felt any needs to comfort her.

Did she deserve to be treated by someone who was so heartless and used her and lied to her constantly?

I think the answer is simple. She let herself fall into the trap. She lacks certain self awareness. The person deceived her. Never cared about her. Said things to make her to go back to him after months of absence all the time. Cancelled on her, never talked to her on the phone, never cared about her, just wanted her to have sex with him, but also wanted her to have emotional connection with him. That's twisted, sick and hurtful.

Now what did she learn?

I don't think she had learned anything right now. But she should learn the following:

Don't fall in love with a mass manipulator whose only purpose in life is to serve his own needs at the expense of hurting the one person who loves him unconditionally. Who derives pleasure in hurting a woman who should never let her into his life.  And if a man tells her that he loved her but then disappeared the moment he said that, know that he lied and she should leave immediately. Don't make excuse for his mistreatment of her. Don't talk herself into believing anything he says. Don't become sexually dependent on someone who's pure purpose was to hurt and deceive her. Don't expect that by being a good, decent, loving, caring person, this person would respect her and like her more. This person will only take advantage of her, and pretend he cared about her until he was bored.

Friends say - "Congratulations. Now cry. So proud of you." Every single one of them who knows about this relationship say the exact same thing. Men, and women. No one disliked him because this woman is married and is carrying on an affair. Friends say - "As long as you are happy." As long as he treats you well.

Friends got upset by watching this woman deduced into a sad sack of mess. Someone who was in denial of her own happiness. Her devastation will end. Her heart will heal. It's one thing to heal from a love interrupted by circumstance. It's another to heal from loving someone who never gave a shit about her and lied and fucked with her head for whatever twisted reason he had in his head. Someone who never loved her but claimed that he did. Deception was perhaps the best thing that happened to this relationship. A man who never loved her but pretended that he did to get his rocks off. A man who never even had the decency to have an adult conversation after knowing the girl he supposed to "love" was devastated. A man cowardly disappeared when things were not going well.

That's how you move on I suppose. You move on by knowing that your love was never returned. You move on by knowing you had fallen for an indecent man who used and played you. You move on by knowing the man never loved you and never will.

Unfulfilled promises and misplaced trust. A beautiful dream gone. But the woman's heart is still there, beating, hopeful, and perhaps in the end she will find love, and be loved by a man who loves her back.

So there, a new beginning. A new hopeful beginning.

A beginning that does not involve this man, who was really just in the business of luring weak, vulnerable women into his world and then watch them crumble by hurting them in whichever way he could.

She's been kind, loving, giving, vulnerable, caring and generous. She's been open minded and hopeful. She has been the way she ought to be if she's in love. In the end, she loved him unconditionally. 

And there is no lesson to be learned from that. Perhaps the best thing that came out of this is to know that nothing he said or she felt had any reality to it. It was just a show. And now the show has ended. Curtain is closed. And fellows, we must exit the theatre, stage left, and if you don't like the ending, go ahead and cry on your own.

This is a real story that does not contain a Hollywood ending.  This is about a vulnerable woman who believed that love would conquer it all, but instead, her lover's entire purpose was to hurt her, lie to her and in the end, watch her crumble, cry and pretend a year plus long relationship never existed, and a fifteen year long friendship meant nothing. he had disappeared. Not a word. Not one single word. Not even to have the common courtesy to say goodbye like two adults. He had moved on. And she never mattered. That, my dear reader, is a cautionary tale on love. 

Bar night

Went to a bar. Need to feel revalidated. It was easy. Of course it was easy. Men. Women. Attractive women. Successful attractive women. Renaissance successful attractive women. Women who have many interests who can talk about the latest technology, the political environment in the middle east or Africa, the latest restaurants, Dead Metaphor at A.C.T., Sleep No More NYC in Chelsea, porn shoots at the Armory, and the skillfulness of self portrait of your naked body with your iPhone. Not to mention, RN74 carried a lot of expensive French reds, and the pending farm house acquisition of mine in France. A woman who just returned from a nudist colony, who was just in remote parts of the world, who could talk about diving or golfing or D.J. at Vessel, and what do you think about the new pope Frances being a jesuit?

I'm a woman with many interest. I like talking about everything except - the love business. I don't like to talk about dating. Dating sucks. I would like to fuck. That's it. Just fucking. I don't know why it is so hard to fuck. To find someone you want to fuck with.

I have plenty of men who would want to fuck me but I have zero interest. I liked their stories though, to hear how they want to score.

At the core, I'm a nice caring gentle loving person who is fortunately loved by many. I am a compassionate person who required little attention. I have a big heart and I want to give. When I love someone I loved with passion and I gave them the space they needed. I was giving in the bedroom and I was perfectly content being on my own for a long period of time. I don't understand, which is why I still cry, a man whom I loved would treat me so horribly so dismissively and so heartless and so careless. I don't understand because he toyed with my emotions and my heart, and I gave very little reason for him to do that. I was self contained and I was so ready to be with him or for me to leave him but to not have any sort of communication? That's coward. And I've been friends with him for 15 years. And this is not the kind of way I want to end things. This should not be the way to end things. I can't begin to imagine how this happened. I thought we'd have a good conversation and be civil about it. I gave no reason to my boyfriend, ex anyway to feel insecure or anything. I simply loved him with all my heart and would be willing to give up anything for him.

Therein lies the problem. I have lost control and I am no longer the person I just described. I lost myself and therefore all my self-respect and self-control.

Never a good place to be. To lose yourself. Lose your voice, and your heart.

Heart is broken. Heart is in millions of pieces. And all I needed, was not amend the heart, but someone who cared about me enough that he'd pick up the phone and call me or ask to meet up with me. Not like one line of email, and a year of half of relationship. Gone, wiped out, as if it never existed.