Men suck (extreme version)

I'm not perfect. In fact, I've made some very HUGE mistakes, mostly involving men. And to be perfectly honest, 90% of my mistakes are due to the same thing: I want to believe the best in everyone. Some guy says he wants to be nothing more than a friend, I totally believe him, up until I end up in a compromising situation with said friend. Do you realize how many times this has happened? I couldn't even begin to tell you.

Okay, I admit it. I'm totally retarded when it comes to men and I never learn my lesson. I was taught to look beneath the surface of a person to see the diamond in the rough and I took that lesson to heart. The problem, I'm discovering, is that men don't have a below the surface. I keep puting my faith into something that doesn't exist and, at best, I end up with egg on my face and looking more than a little naive.

It's a good thing Handsome knows this about me, or the latest situation could be more trouble than it already is.

Okay, here's the deal. Handsome and I have been remodeling this house for over a year now. The latest project has been the yard. It's required major work that is more physical than I'm capable of and so Hansome has hired a contractor. Mr. Contractor is a neighbor. A married neighbor, and has become pretty good friends with Handsome along the way. This is a good thing. There's nothing better for a couple than to be able to hang with another couple who is facing the same trials that coupledom brings. Handsome gets a dude he can build and drink beer with. I get to vent about men to another woman. It's all good.

Anyway, Handsome and I just got new phones with unlimited texting. Mr. Contractor loves to text. He sends Handsome a multimedia text that Handsome's phone won't open, so we direct Mr. Contractor to send it to my phone which will open them. Mr. Contractor starts texting me, now that he has my number. Everything starts out really innocent. Then I discover that I can edit the photos I take with my phone and add funny things to the picture. I take one of Handsome and jazz it up, then send it to Mr. Contractor because it is so freakin' funny. Mr. Contractor sends me a text back saying he wants a photo of me. A really "good" photo.

Do you see where this is going? I didn't. Yep, I'm so retarded.

Anyway, a couple of texts later, I start to get the picture. I tell Handsome. I'm still not sure it's suspicious, but I don't want any doubts in Handsome's mind. I'm not trying to lead this guy on. Handsome has less faith in Mr. Contractor than I do. So Handsome suggests I send him an innocent photo, like the one on this blog. I send it. Then Handsome wants me to send him another photo that's not as innocent. We find one that is more suggestive. Not rated R or X by any means, but not something you send a "friend".

Anyway, by the time it was all said and done, there wasn't much left to guess at. Unless Mr. Contractor shows up tomorrow to tell Handsome that I'm sending suggestive photos, Handsome is ready to fire him. And do I feel stupid. I really spent the whole time trying to convince myself that there was a misunderstanding. On the other hand, I start to rethink every conversation and gesture that Mr. Contractor has made towards me and it's not looking very good. You see, I need these things pointed out to me before it starts to sink in. There's been odd looks. Nothing vulgar, but just a bit beyond friendly. There's been touches. Nothing dirty, but you just don't touch your friend's woman........at all.....ever. And then there was the time we all went to a lake to bbq. There's a rope swing there and I jumped in, clothes and all. It was a bit windy and a bit chilly and I was shivering my bum off. Mr. Contractor takes the shirt off his back to give to me. I think nothing of it because Mrs. Contractor gives me a pair of her pajama pants. Just friendly gestures, ya know? But there was a look on his face that I didn't understand at the time. Hind sight being 20/20, it all looks different now.

So, I've either now caught Handsome's paranoia about the world or I'm finally seeing the light. I'm not sure which is worse. I just really hope he shows up tomorrow to tattle on me. Otherwise, Mr. Contractor really was betraying his wife and his friend for a stupid little picture and I can't bear to see Hansome hurt over that kind of betrayal. We also lose our contractor and there's this insurance nazi that has been raking us over the coals and will use this as a reason to not pay. I'm just sure of it. Ughhh! So, seriously, how do I face this dude again? 'Cuz he either wants me and is willing to be sneaky about it or he thinks I'm a tramp and now has a PG-13 photo of me imprinted in his brain. Either way, it's just creepy. And how could I be so dumb as to not see this coming if he is a sleaze?

Okay, my brain is hurting from all this twisted logic now. I need sleep. Men suck.

Gratitude (Poem)

Gratitude

It never would have worked out.
It’s all for the best.
You just want to get out,
so give those lines a rest.
You really want what’s right for me.
You cannot give me what I need.
Baby, do you think I’m naïve,
or that I’m just that blind?

Okay, so I’m not gracious,
but who can really blame me?
You really think I’ll thank you
for all the lies you told me?
I’m just a little angry
now that I can see the truth.
Twist the knife a little deeper;
I’ll try to show some gratitude.

It wasn’t that you played me.
Sure, you really care.
We both know you betrayed me,
but I’m not being fair?
You really want to do the right thing,
give me the chance to find something.
Honey, I just do not believe
you hurt me to be kind.

Okay, so I’m not gracious,
but who can really blame me?
You really think I’ll thank you
for all the lies you told me?
I’m just a little angry
now that I can see the truth.
Twist the knife a little deeper;
I’ll try to show some gratitude.
Forgive me my sarcasm
and try not to feel guilty.
I don’t want you to feel that
you owe my heart anything.
I’m just a little angry
now that I can see the truth.
Twist the knife a little deeper;
I’ll try to show some gratitude.

Broken Hearts in the Corn Patch

I overheard something I wasn't meant to hear today. I was in the bathroom, just coming out of the shower. Handsome was right outside the bathroom window, unaware that I was in hearing distance. He was talking to one of the guys working on our house.

He told this guy to never get married, that marriage was the worst of mistakes. And even though I've heard him say this a million times before, it really tore me open this time. And it's not that I was picturing the long walk with Handsome, but it really hurt that he would say such a thing to another guy while I'm inside, being the wife to him in all but name.

He came inside shortly after this and asked me to make him a sandwich. He likes me to fetch things for him. I think it gives him a strange sense of power and a warm fuzzy feeling to see me tend to him. I usually don't mind. It gives me a warm fuzzy feeling to tend to him too. And yes, also that strange sense of power.

I made him the sandwich he asked for, but I didn't go all out. When he asked for a few more things to put on it, I brought those things to him and let him finish making it. It was then that he noticed something was wrong.

I tried to explain to him, but it's hard to explain things to him. Men, Mars, etc. He thinks I'm upset about the guy talk. Personally, if I had come out of the shower to hear him talk about cleavage, I think I would have snickered. Boys will be boys, after all.

The fact is, he was warning this guy that no woman is worth the risk. That's what gets me. And here I am, being the quintessential "little woman" to his caveman, and all these workers see me fetching for him and it makes me feel pathetic.

I'm not sure what to do about this. I never really expected to marry Handsome, even though the subject does come up from time to time. I guess what I expected was that marriage or no, there would be a time that he would come to the realization that I was worth the effort of a full commitment, and no matter how many times I discover that this will never be, I still die a little each time that I come face to face with it. You see, it's not about marriage. It's about trust. And without trust, how can someone ever be trustworthy. I haven't always done my best by Handsome, but why should I ever try when I know that it doesn't matter in the end?

Anyway, I have to get back to the grindstone. Though why, I'm not sure.

So Much More (Poem)

So Much More

Just when my faith was gone,
my hope had flown,
you came along.

You swept me off my feet,
gave me something new
in which to believe.

Is it fair to say
I lived one day
before you?
I don’t see
how it could be,
my love.
What is life
if you’ve nothing left
to live for?
You’ve made it so much more.

Just when my faith was gone,
my hope had died,
you came along.

You swept me off my feet,
gave me all your love
and sweet air to breathe.

Is it fair to say
I lived one day
before you?
I don’t see
how it could be,
my love.
What is life
without something
to live for?
You’ve made it so much more.
Gave me purpose, a need,
and a dream to believe.
You’ve made it so much more.

Through My Fingers (Poem)

Through My Fingers

I tried
to exist in the moment,
to live life like I owned it,
to love like no tomorrow.
I failed
to see the price that you paid,
the sacrifices that you made,
to recognize your sorrow.

It’s not that it meant so little to me.
I meant to make it up to you one day.
How could I know the day would never come,
that the future I promised would be taken away?

You can’t say I didn’t try,
but it all slipped through my fingers again.
I watched as time flew by.
It flowed like tiny grains of sand
through my fingers again.

I really thought I did my best by you,
that I gave you what you needed from me then.
Those precious moments lost, I promised would come due.
How could I know it would all come to an end?

You can’t say I didn’t try,
but it all slipped through my fingers again.
I was lost while time flew by.
It flowed like tiny grains of sand.
You can’t say I didn’t care,
but it all slipped through my fingers again.
While I was unaware,
time poured like the river of the damned
through my fingers again.

Beautiful Disaster

I'm not beautiful when I cry. My tears aren't achingly lovely. They're sticky and sloppy. My face gets swollen. In fact, I tend to look like I've went ten rounds with Tyson once I dry up.

It's simply not fair how some women can pull off a good cry and still look so lovely. I want to be able to cry pretty. I want those silent tear drops that roll gently down my cheeks. I want those soft, heart wrenching sobs that pull a strong man to his knees. My sobs sound more like a banshee trying to break loose. It's sad, really. And then I get those little hiccough type breaths, like I'm hyperventilating.

I guess it's a good thing that I don't have reason to practice too often. But lately, things have been complicated. I'm a constant victim of Murphy's Law, destined to get caught in the currents of chaos. It's been worse the past couple of weeks. It's not an emotional roller coaster I'm riding. It's more like a plane crash.

Speaking of crashes, I wrecked Handsome's truck a couple of days ago. A retaining wall attacked it while I was just sitting there, minding my own business. It wasn't serious. That is to say, I wasn't injured or anything. Just a major scratch down the side. Handsome went postal though. I really thought that this would be the end of us.

It's too complicated to explain without sounding stupid by defending him or sounding like I'm bashing him. He overreacted. I overreacted. His truck got hurt. My feelings got hurt. He cooled down. But now, I can't seem to warm up completely. I'm getting that feeling of one foot out the door again. I hate that feeling when you're waiting for the other shoe to drop and you can't stop being on guard. But, I can't just leave. There's too much at stake.

I know I'm not perfect. I know that Handsome is a good man. We're both under a lot of stress because of this remodeling project we have going. All the work we got finished has gone to Hell in a hand basket and the work we need done isn't getting done for reasons beyond our control. It's.....complicated.

Then, there's the fact that I just got to meet his family and I adore them. They made me feel so welcome and so accepted. And now, Handsome is talking the "M" word again and I know it's because he really wants to try forever with me. And here I am, baulking at it all. I'm so confused. I'm spinning like a top, trying to find something solid to hold on to, but every time I reach out, I only find more chaos.

So, what is the answer? Am I just making excuses, or are they valid reasons for having my back up and my eyes open? Am I being jaded, or wise? Have I finally turned into the thing I most dreaded becoming, a woman so scorned that I miss all the joys that comes with all this pain? Because I dimly recall there being a balance to it all.

Perhaps, in time, I'll get my answers. But for now, the bed beckons me. I know that tomorrow, I will have forgotten my questions. I'll be thick in the chaos again. Life stops for no one, so you either live it or watch it pass you by. But, maybe, I will get a chance to stop and rest for a moment. Maybe the top will lay to rest for a brief moment in time before someone sets it to spinning again. It's not too much to ask, is it?

Home

I dusted off my keyboard today. My need to write beckoned me like an old lover. Once, I thrived in the arms of my lover. It was a place I found myself. Now, the tap of the keys is awkward, almost alien.

I know that with each touch of the keys, I will become more familiar with that lover again. Old feelings and new will wash over me. Life will unfold and eventually, it will feel like coming home again.

Coming home. I've been acquainted with that feeling a lot lately. Only, it feels so different every time I do. I visited my folks this last weekend. Coming home to them means feeling warm and welcome, free to relax and enjoy myself. They push and they prod. They love and tend to me. They give of themselves and ask if I need more.

I visited my best friend too. Coming home to her means no judgement. I tell her everything, even the things I have trouble telling myself. She will never be ashamed of me. She will lend an ear, an arm, a shoulder whenever I ask it. She knows without doubt that she has the same of me.

I visited the ghost that haunts my past as well. Oh, Lord! I don't know how to explain this one. Comfort and turmoil, longing and fulfillment. Time does not heal all wounds, only changes the nature of the pain. I am not me when I'm with him. I am not me without him. I can't move forward and I can't go back. I told myself I was there to burn bridges, but the truth of it is, bridge or no bridge, I will find my way back to him again and again.

After the weekend was done, I came home to Handsome. I was so hopeful, so devastated. I want things to work between us, and I don't. This past year with him has been so strange. He is my friend and my confidant, but there's something missing and I can't quite place my finger on it. I know it has nothing to do with my past. The past has no place in the future other than as a lesson to live by. No, it's more complicated than that. There's this space between us that can't be breached, not by word or deed. And I'm so lost right now.

Truth be told, if I could figure out what was wrong with us, I wouldn't look back at the past with such longing. But the space is there and growing wider each day. We don't touch any more. We don't connect on that primitive level. I know that he tries so hard to. I want to. I try. But I feel so disconnected from him. He feels it too. It's the elephant in the room that we'll never discuss.

I look at my screen now, at that damn blinking cursor, and I look around the place I now call home. They both still feel the same to me, familiar and awkward all at the same time. And I wonder, will I ever feel whole again?