There would always be others but no one is you

There would always be others but no one is you.

One day, you used to write, "One day I would be alright."

One day came and went. You were still flawed. Like the evil queen, you'd look at the mirror, and say, "Mirror Mirror, who's the fairest of them all?" You were insecure, emotionally distant, and consequently needed to be told that you were desired and loved and you did everything you could to please those who said those flattering words. You needed approval, from men, from women, from anyone you felt attracted to. You couldn't stand being left in the dark, in the cold, and you were constantly seeking those moments of high, the high was never really there, there was a gaping hole in your life that you never got a chance to fulfill. You never could figure out how. You were damaged and wired differently. You never felt secure wherever you were.

You were never good at being at the same place with the same person. That was your fundamental flaw. Everyone saw what they needed to see and everyone gave you what they thought you wanted to see or hear. You had names for them. Plan A, Plan B, Plan C, D, E, etc. That was you pattern. Then you had offsetters. Offsetters were those who served as balance to a Plan. Like a contingency planning. You were comfortable when you had each Plan lined up and each person fit into a mode. It was a music chair, when one person dropped off you nominated a new person. You created a persona for each person and you hid behind those persona, somewhere along the line you blurred games with reality, somewhere along the line a player was played. That was how the game was played. There were winners and losers. You had to stay one step of your opponent, but sometimes you lost.

You promoted them when one dropped off. Then you started your contingency planning again. When you drop someone, the offsetter must be dropped off too. You could only have both at the same time, you could not have one exist without the other.

You did not like to lose. The only time you felt some real emotions was when you let your guard down and listened to your heart, heart did not do rational things. Heart tended to wander. Heart constructed an alternate reality, where you could finally be free of your facade, your insecurities and your troubles. Heart fell in love and you got scared.

The night before you knew it would happen you cried. For the first time in a long time you saw that twelve year old girl. She barely had anything to hope for but the return of her father. Having been physically abused since she was little by her father, then narrowly escaped a rape from her mother's friend at eight, and finally suffered continuous molestation by a stranger on a crowded bus for a year when she was ten, she still had one thing to hope for, the love from her father who was also, largely absent from her life, because he traveled for work and had affairs with women who were not her mother.  Then her dad left, this time for good, or it seemed, with another woman, who was not her mother. She suffered a heart break, a literal heart condition that sent her to a military hospital. No nurses, few sightings of doctors, bunch of young soldiers who just fought and killed others in a boarder dispute war, those were her only friends. They were eighteen and she was twelve. Abandoned in the hospital, she developed feelings for one of the soldiers who liked her. By the time when she was fourteen and entered into an elite summer camp, her mother entrusted her to the camp counselor who declared he loved her, she was fourteen and he was thirty. Those were not something a little girl should go through. Heart never got put back right. She knew that but she knew there was never going to be an opportunity to fall. So she marched forward, in a foreign country where things could have gone wrong and had gone terribly wrong, she survived, there was never going to be a chance she wouldn't take. She was a survivor who did not have time to feel pity for herself.

And that's how heart got broken you see. Nothing would be the same again. Nothing, not at all.  And this was the end. No closure afforded nor needed.

Just another change of season. Just another love story gone wrong.  Just another ending. Not the one you were looking for, but an ending nontheless.

Dinner

So I went to have dinner with a friend. He said to me that I should expunge the past. He also said, "This restaurant has significance" I asked why so he told me that he took a girl to this restaurant and he thought he loved her. Things did not work out of course.

Great, how was that piece of information relevant to my situation?

How was I suppose to expunge? He explained to me to delete every single communique and remove all photos from the past. Delete emails phone numbers photos as if the past did not exist.

There were wandering dogs at night. Powell street was full of dogs. Maybe they belonged to the homeless guys. I remembered that fateful morning, when we fed the dogs and one puppy got run over and it was cut into half. That day my girlfriend yelled at me for being such a push over and not doing something she thinks I should do a long time again. I took it because she was having a rough day, her adopted puppy died. Then this happened, girlfriend said that she meant to say sorry because she was in a bad mood and she took it out on me, my situation. I wanted to cry then but I didn't. She had a rough day and I'm having a rough week you see. I was telling my friend this and I could feel my tears coming down, I was doing so good up till then.

Friend gave me a hug. How did he see it was dark but I'm thankful. Said that he sent a picture to a friend of his who thought that I was his girlfriend. Come again? His girlfriend? Weird! I was no one's girlfriend but I offered to pretend to be his if he needed to make a lady friend of his jealous. I was good at pretending, pretending I could but it's real stuff that scared me. Until this happened.

"One day," he said, "one day you will come to this restaurant and you'll going to think whatever you went through was for nothing." Give yourself a week, he said. I asked, "what about 7 months?" That's what I heard, mandatory 7 months. He laughed. I was usually a very strong independent go getter but in this particular situation he said "why are you such a push over?" I looked at him puzzled as I didn't have an answer."I'm not." I defended myself. "That's why I like you you are a very strong smart independent interesting opinionated person." I love those adjectives. I had never been a push over person until this happened. I never had a voice in this situation. I was lost and drowning in my sorrow for months, even a year.

When I sat down at the restaurant, where he was already sitting down, he got up, and greeted me like a gentleman, and then he said "I liked your hair it's red it's awesome and the gray suit looks great on you. You look beautiful." All I said was "I hated the hair they did it while I fell asleep and my suit makes me look boring." "Why can't you just say 'thank you'?" He said. "OK, thank you." So that was how the evening got started. Unless you counted the text message that started with me saying "Am lost" and he responded "Figure it out you are smart use your smart phone."

I texted him on the way back to thank  him for not taking advantage of me. For being there for me and treating me with respect and letting me to be vulnerable, and graceful. He listened all the way. Not even one word about his life. I supposed that's what a real friend was. Someone who let you cry and made you laugh and told you like the way it was. I didn't need to know when I'd see him gain, it's just a text away. It was really that simple. It went both ways. Why was it always so much work with the other person? Why couldn't I just ask and why couldn't he respect me and respond?

Why was never the question to ask. It was when. When was always the question. When I should end this so I could be me again. When the lies would stop and when he would spare me the pain and stop playing with my heart. The heart was such a fragile thing. If you entrusted it with the wrong person you could come off like an idiot. I was the village idiot. The question was never why, why was irrelevant. 

I knew why.  I just didn't want to see why. The only time he was warm was when he was away and when we couldn't be together. When he was near me, he disappeared. I was a left over thought, and I hated myself for it. It would be all fine if he never said that he loved me and told me that he missed me. It would have been just a fun lighthearted thing which I was no stranger to. But he fucked with my head, and then with my heart. Therefore I became the laughing stalk. Me? Me. ME!

Maybe I was going to be alright one day. Maybe I just needed to be told that I was good just the way I was. No need to change. No need to expect the impossible.

Expunge. "What about my physical belongings? Physical belongings that were no longer in my possession but belong to me? Can you retrieve them?" Friend made a fist and pretended to pound into something. But laughed. "No, you can afford new ones." He said.

There was always an opportunity for something new, I suppose. Until then, I knew I could run to my friend and give it a good cry. But that would ruin my gray suit, and my red hair, in which, apparently, I looked beautiful. His words, not mine.

Dear B., I love you and now let me go

Dear B,

I love you. Please let me go.

I love you because you were often absent. You travelled a lot. You told me one thing but you never realized it. You said these things and pretend that they were never said. I couldn't trust anything from you. Every time I saw you I didn't know when I'd see you again. I saw you so infrequently and I saw you rarely. Each time when I left you it felt like mini-break up. Each time when we were back at seeing each other again, it's like we had gotten back together.

You act nothing transpired. You act as if time did not pass, we were never separated. You act as if everything was normal and everything was alright. They were not ever alright. You hurt me each time for not returning my call, not emailing me back, and not caring about what I think of you. You take our relationship for granted.

When I was young I was abandoned as a child. Regardless how I look today, I was never made whole. So for each time when you were here and then gone, I reenact my childhood trauma. I am drawn to that trauma. It is part of my DNA. It's cyclical. It's the only way I could feel anything. I think it's love, but it's perhaps the only way that I could feel anything, it's all those many years of hurt, all those many years of psychological trauma, which I reenact when I'm with you. 

I love Dexter. The TV show. I know why now. I have an demon that I cannot expel.  I am drawn to emotional drama whereby it allows me to feel unwanted, I try so hard to please you. I spend hours on an email sometimes and write and rewrite. I want you to be proud of me. I buy things for you wherever I go. I need not to do that. You don't do that for me. Why should I do it for you? I just do. Because I want to please you. It's the only way I know how.

One year, when I was young, when I 12, my fear came true. That one time, the person I loved the most, my father, decided that he would rather be with his secretary and never came home. I suffered an actual heart break, I thought I failed as a daughter. Even though before when he came home we didn't know, we = mother and I, if he was in good mood or bad, if he was going to reward me with chocolate or punish me with his fist and his feet, I wanted so hard to please him that I endured. As long as he came home. Until he didn't.

The only male model I had, as I was growing up, was my father. Who loved and abused me, who was never around, and who abandoned me in the end.

I never learned to love, the proper way. I was drawn to you because you were never there. You never cared about me. You said that you did but then when you'd leave you. You never wanted to be part of my life. You never included me in your life either. You told me things and then you disappeared. In between our meetings I waited for you to ask me to see you again. In between your visits I counted the days, I cried when you failed to show on what I thought would the longest duration of separation, I cried when you failed to respond to my emails. I cried when so many weeks had passed and I did not know if I'd ever see you again. Each time an reenactment of my childhood trauma.  But when you were near and when you were with me, I felt the love. I knew that I was loved and for that I was the happiest person in the world. Then you'd leave, the room was once again dim with no lights, no air, no life. I was a rag doll that had been put back into the drawer. I was no longer whole. I was abandoned. I was again, the lonely 12 year old in her pig tail, waiting for her father to come home. Then one day, he never did. And I fear, one day, you would not return.

I love you. But perhaps I loved you because I could never be sure you'd return. I loved you in spite of all that, or maybe I love you because of all that. You represented my father, and I needed you to feel those pain, over and over again. When I saw you, I felt that I could please you, and convince you enough that you won't leave me again. Convince you enough so that you'd hold me day in and day out, and love me and promise me that you'd be with me for the rest of my life. I would in return please you and make sure you were satisfied in every possible way. I simply wanted you to be pleased. I simply wanted to please you. That was the only way I knew how to love you.

But if you do love you back, if you love me at all, then know this is an addiction. I could not and would not be able to walk away from this, from you.

So, please, this time, let me go.  So I could be free again. Be free of you, free of my demon, free of my past.

I love you. Now please let me go.

This is the end

I have prepared a lot of emails and notes since January. There are 107 of them in my draft mail. Silly me. I don't understand a lot of things about you. I always tell you how I feel what I feel but I rarely asked you how you feel, what is that you feel, how's your life and what are you worried about? How is your week where are you what are you doing whom are you doing with are you having fun do you miss me as I miss you? I worried about asking these mundane and intrusive questions. I didn't want you to think that I was being noisy. I used to ask you to call me when you are on the road but you never called. I then realized ah this was not that kind of relationship -This is the kind that he would pop in and pop out of my life and I'd be OK with it because really that's the kind I wanted, right?

When I think of you I often think about you having sex with me and how you wrap your arms around me while still inside of me. I don’t know anything else besides that about you. But that’s all I needed to hold on to the image of you.

One day when I sat at my therapist’s office, I began to notice that my happiness odometer was based on how soon I'd see you again. It was not about me but about my state of being in relation to how close or how far you orbited my space. Most of the time, you orbited far and away and I had no idea whether we'd collide again. 

One time I went into her office and told her that you told me that you loved me. I didn't know (or think) I loved you then. But I was so happy that my therapist wrote on her notebook about that, about me being a little too happy. I resented her for that. For a while she talked about how I should think about leaving this relationship, for it's toxic for me, to love someone I cannot or should not love, I thought of terminating my relationship with her. A friend, who thought I was out of my mind for wanting to be with you, told me straight up and I got so upset with him that I no longer wanted to be his friend. We had been friends for 17 years before that. Those were the little things. My close circle of girlfriends thought that I was being stupid and irresponsible, but they loved me anyway even though I kept you in my life.  Eventually you became part of my life. Like sun, air, rain, flowers, children, and you.

One day my therapist asked me if I knew what you thought of this relationship. I told her no, I had not thought of it. She said, "But you are married. And he knows that you'd never leave your husband." I looked at her, horrified. I had never thought of that. I just knew that I wanted and needed you in my life. I can hardly breath with the thought of you no longer in my life. You introduced me to Lorre Moore. And one of my favorite quotes was "This is what happened in love. One of you cried a lot and then both of you grew sarcastic." I did both and I hated myself for being so cliché. 

I have never ever been with anyone in my entire life whom I felt so sexually connected with. The thought of losing that element from my life forever suffocated me. I can’t breath. I have never felt this way before and I am afraid that I’d never feel that way again. That thought also frightened me. It is as if I had belonged somewhere. My kinks, my preferences, my weirdness, all of that seemed normal when I was with you.

Then time. Distance. More time. More distance. I began to find distractions to keep me mentally occupied. I began to adjust the expectations as the intervals between our meetings lengthened. I began to feel that you no longer wanted me. I began to panic until you came back into my life and I could breath again. Then the pattern repeated.

I fear one day you’d tell me that you are involved with someone else. You can’t be with me anymore. I fear that day is near the longer I don’t see you. And I cry even more.  

No one has told me that to fall in love is to suffer. I don’t like that kind of emotion. The suffering kind.

So I thought, I need to leave, I need to let you to let me go.

Lunch

Girl walked towards the statue, the statue that looked like a bow and arrow, reminded of her Artemis, the Greek goodness of the hunt. Or perhaps the statue was a heart and the arrow, and it was meant to be a romantic gesture, symbolized love found. Girl was on a work call. She was talking and discussing details about something technical. She found the statue and proceeded to cross over from the grass and sat down on the bench, still on the phone. She looked up and saw someone, looking for someone else, so she waved towards that direction and that person responded. She smiled and continued on her call.  The person was walking towards her, and not far from the base of the statue, where she sat, were two men. One was reading on his Kindle and another was eating his lunch. It was a normal sunny afternoon where no one was minding anyone's business. The girl looked restful and cheerful. She was finally concluding her call. And as she sat her phone down, she stood up and stretched as she faced the ocean. It was a lovely afternoon, there were no winds and no signs of the rain. It was supposed to rain later on that night. 

A young boy walked towards her. She did not get up. Boy was in a nice brown business suit and a stylish hat. He had grown a beard, and looked more like a man, a young man in his early 30s and not someone in his 20s. He was very tall, had blond hair and blue eyes and was smiling when he spotted her. Girl did not get up nor move. She raised her head, and smiled. She had a beautiful smile, she had tanned skin and a curvy body. She was not exactly skinny but she was fit. She had shapely arms and wavy long hair. She was pretty. She often get boys to look at her. She had to master her ice queen look to deter some of those unwanted attention. She wore a beautiful platinum wedding ring with sparkling diamonds. Boy also wore a platinum wedding band. "Should we walk?" Boy asked the girl. Girl said, "No." So boy sat down, and as he sat next to the girl, he kissed her. It started like a peck, and then it became urgent. It was as if the boy had sensed that she needed him, so he responded, by kissing back. They kissed for a good minute. It had been a while. 

Then they looked out. The bay was warm, sunny, serene, and the grass smelled like spring. 

"Didn't we see each other last week?" Girl asked the boy. 

"But we did not kiss." Boy said it in defense and he kissed the girl some more. 

"You were depressed." He said. 

"I figured out the root cause." She cheerfully stated.

"That's good. What is it?" He asked.

Girl told him the story. The story about her having deep rooted abandonment issues. How she was abandoned as a child, and how she could never be normal because every relationship after became a replay of her 12 year old self, waiting for her father to come home. She counted days and hours when he would show, and sometimes.  So as an adult, when a guy said he'd call, she waited for him to call. When a guy said he couldn't wait to see her, she expected him to make time to see her immediately. And then she fell in love with those who were not available, and when they failed to fulfill their promises, she would get heart broken and the cycle continued until another man came along. Boy felt a little sad. He held the girl's hand, and rubbed her shoulder with his free hand. 

"Do you still feel this way?" He asked.

"Yes. I do, I'm afraid. But I can't go into the details. For the first time last night, I saw that little girl, waiting for her dad to come home, and he often disappeared, traveled for work, and then left her to be with his lover. I suffered an actual heart break then. My heart broke and I never fully recovered. I was abandoned at a military hospital, with no nurses. I didn't know it was going to be like this. I had been physically abused and sexually abused, but I had resolved these issues, but I don't think I could ever get out of this issue of abandonment. I fear being abandoned. I would try everything I could to please the person, if I was that person walking away."

Boy did not answer. Boy did not want to know if the girl was referring to him.

So boy suggested to start walking. Towards a restaurant by the water.

Boy kissed the girl tenderly. 

The man sitting not far from them, eating a sandwich, looked up at this young couple, curiously. 

They seemed happy, they seemed belonged to each other. 

They seemed to be in love. Judging by their body language.

Newly weds. 

Girl kissed the boy back. 

Boy said, "I can't stay late. I have to get back home early tonight. My wife expected me to be home for dinner." 

Girl said, "That's fine. I have something tonight. But are we still on for Friday?  I'll drive."

Boy grabbed the girl's hand to hold on. And said, "Yes, see you Friday morning. But time for lunch." 

They walked towards a restaurant by the water. It was a dive bar. There they'd order fish and chips. They'd look out and feed the seagulls. They'd kiss some more. The girl would put her hand inside the boy's thighs, attracting the attention of the diners next to them. They'd act they couldn't have been happier. A happily married couple. When the bill came they'd split it, and then they'd walk out and they'd go on separate ways. 

If you have your groove back how not fall off a ledge

Once when I was traveling alone, at a restaurant I met this woman who had become a native at a foreign land. She had dark skin, and a strong New York accent. She thought that I was strange, a very outgoing, opinionated, non-non-sense business woman with wild, crazy stories to tell. I was fixated on technology and when the restaurant told me that they had wifi but they didn't, I was incensed. She was a fixture of a town full of yogies from the Western world. She served wheat grass shots to yogies and worn local attires.

I learned that she hailed from Oklahoma and lived in New York until she arrived this town 12 years ago. She had been living between New York and this Far East third world country for over a decade.

My look was deceiving. I was more Western than she had imagined. I was tanned by then, and looked a bit Tibetan. No one really bothered me in this town where Westerners often got harassed. Yet, when I opened my mouth I sounded like a California native, to her anyway.

She did not realize that I was married and with children. She thought that I was single and childless. I had been told by many that I looked rather young. When I dropped my weight (due to exhaustion and lack of sleep and yes, depression), I looked like a kid.  I was blessed with good genes. The older I got the more I realized how lucky I truly was. I looked easily like someone in her early 30s. I often got twenty or thirty some year olds hitting on me, claiming that they "are old souls" to try to impress me.  I was not impressed. I was always addicted to one type of guys, physically.

I told this woman that I was visiting a friend in town. This friend told her that I was always the party girl. A hard working party girl. In my defense I told her that I was not always like this. I was drained, I was careless about my looks and I put on weight for a few years after the kids. She took a look at me and said, "So you got your groove back."

Did I? I asked myself this question. I was reminded by my therapist who said that while I tend to self destruct, where the most important thing was concerned, I seem to be able to save myself from falling off a ledge. I have, from time to time, let my emotions run wild and fallen into a mode of self destruction, but I usually can pull myself out. But at times I feel that I couldn't. Where my emotions run high, and my yearning of someone would go out of control.

I was a wild child. I took control of my hideous past and willed myself out of trouble and focused on what was important.

I was emotionally devastated. I had fallen in love once with a man who was abusive emotionally and took advantage of me. I wish that he could have just told me to never contact him again. That would have been easier. But he told me instead that I would need to do whatever he wanted me to do, and I waited for him to call. Waited for him to email, waited for him to love me back. He never did tell me that he loved me. I don't know what's worse. For someone to announce that he loved me and then disappear or for someone who never tells me that he loves me but still expects me to do thing for him because I told hi that I loved him. I'm no longer 22. I fell in love at 22 and every man since him was a footnote. I fell in love again at 39, and my world had since become a roller coaster filled with incredible highs and lows and I have never felt this alone in this battle against my demons.

What had left was that groove. I had gotten my groove back, said the New York transplant in this remote town in Far East where salad was a luxury and sushi was unheard of by most.

But how does one not fall off the ledge? How to control the emotional ups and downs and know how deep you've dug and how much of a mirage you've built around you? How to manage the insane emotions of longing someone something so bad that you could only cry with the thought of his name in your head? Those are million dollar questions.

I have no answer. I just know that I cannot continue on down this path.

The end of a Polyamorous Relationship

This atypical day, you were sitting on a bench, waiting for my arrival. You had held your body high, your back straight, you waited as I approached. You were not expecting me to be on time, so you asked what's wrong. I was in tears the moment I saw you, and I was not crying because I was unhappy to see you, but because I knew the truth.

"We had a good run." You said.

I said, "it was epic." I had pretended this was going to have a French ending. We'd live happily ever after, in the shadow, but we'd live together, happy, even, knowing you had belonged with me, and I you.

But now it was going to end.

"What happened?" I asked.

"Nothing. Nothing happened." You replied.

But that's not true. Everything, from the beginning to the end, it was just lies after lies.

I never wanted to see anything, not a sign, not if it's in front of me. Now my heart was fully broken.

I cried. You held me. Let me. I had never cried in front of you. Not anyone.

"So what now?" I asked.

"Now we part ways. We are adults." You said. Calmly. Lovingly. Pretended love was the best kind of love.

"But why? Why did you tell me you loved me so?" I knew I sounded like a dummy. A woman I would ordinarily despise. A weak, heart-broken, terrible-at-judging-people kind of woman. A loser.

"Because it was what you needed to hear. I gave you what you needed to hear." You held my hand. You almost looked sincere.

"Was any of it real?" I asked.

"Yes. We had a good time." You said.

"Is this how you say goodbye?" I knew I sounded like a fool.

"No, I usually do not say goodbye. We shall be friends. Always."

This was not how I envisioned the end. I had thought I had perfected this game. I never lost a hand. I did not lose the hand the last time. I should not have lost the hand this time. I always knew this was a game. You - played me like a flute.

"Com'on, you know as well as I know, you never wanted to see me only." You were then becoming cruel. I hated the stating of obvious.

"But you did too. I knew you were seeing others. You hid everything from me. You disappeared for long stretches of time. You only wanted me when you were free, when you and I were separated for a period of time. Almost never fails. You ignored me on those other days. I had to find other people, to occupy my space, my time." I tried to argue.

You did not say anything. You looked almost pained. As if you knew what I said was the truth, and you couldn't offer me anything in response.

"I have cried for you." Last, weak, attempt.

Silence.

"I have loved you more than you will ever know." I was defeated.

"If you write enough about us, about your undying love, you'd actually believe it." You gave me a crooked smile and your tone became sarcastic.

"How many men have you been with while we are dating?" You asked.

"I told you you could date as many women as you want." I replied in defense.

"And yet, here we are." You concluded. A polyamorous relationship ends when one party can't handle it anymore.

"So what now?" I began to cry.

"Now we move on." You looked resolved.

"Would I fall in love again?" I asked you. I wanted so much for this to be it. This being the love that defied gravity, the love that proved everything I've ever read, to be wrong. I wanted to believe I was the one who changed your course, I was the one whom you believed to be THE one, even though I never believed THE one existed for me.

"Did I break your heart?" I asked, now attempting to be funny.

"No, but I was hurt too." You had never called me a liar, a cheater, an unfaithful person who's not trustworthy. You had never gotten upset with me. You simply, disappeared most of the time, only resurfacing when you wanted me again.

That's why I couldn't possibly get upset with you. You had covered your track so well.

"Now what?" I began to feel weak in my stomach. I wanted to throw up. I was feeling dizzy and I wanted to scream, I had never lost temper before this day.

"Stay. Stay with me. I need to be with you. You and I were supposed to be together, for the remains of our day." I resorted to begging instead

"That is so unsightly. You will be fine. Go home. We can talk again." You said in such an authoritative tone.

I knew better. This would the last time I'd ever hear from you. 

"Is there another way to this?" I asked.

"I told you. Nothing needed to change. We meet and we have fun and we go on our separate ways." You went back to the rule book, rule # 1. Never have any expectations.

I complicated things. I had imagined us walking into the sunset and spending the rest of our lives together, falling asleep under the palm tree, walking on snow covered tracks, staring into the northern light. I loved you. The only epic love I had ever felt. I had imagined that you loved me so much so that you'd change your ways. I had then become obsessed and found out everything about you. The real you. The version of you I was never supposed to find out. You kept three other women on the side, like me. Never mind I dated three other men, on the side, also kept away from you, I wanted you all to myself.

"Bye now." I began to get up, but I was feeling dizzy, and I went to the nearby trash can and threw up.

How terrible. This was how you'd remember me, the last impression was me barfing.

Tonight I would go home alone. I would cry, cry until I no longer could shed any more tears. Tonight I would take all of my photos of you, digital or non-digital, delete, erase and destroy them all. Tomorrow I'd call boyfriend # 2, and when I see him, I'd give him the best freaking blow job in the world.

And if I ever run across you again, I'd pretend I never lost my cool, I'd chitchat just enough time for you to believe that I never thought much of you, and that enough time had passed, I'd forgotten how much you hurt me. I'd be fine. Really. I'd be fine.