There Are No "Get Out of Purgatory Free" Cards

Thank you all so much for your outpouring of support, love, and friendship. It means the world to me. Although, I'm quite upset that so many of you can relate. I hate that more than you'll ever know. No one should be so tortured. I bet I brought up bittersweet memories. Maybe this will make you feel a little better. If you think I'm honest here, imagine how honest I am with someone I've known for 13 years. Imagine you reading my blog for 13 years. Imagine the things you would know about me. Imagine the things we would share. Imagine what I would know about you. Does it make you feel vulnerable? Does it make it you a little frightened to cross someone who knows you so well? And I do say that with a bit of maliciousness and bitterness. I'm not going to sit here and say, "this doesn't bother me a bit." Because I would be lying. It does bother me. And more than a bit. But don't think he gets away with it. He knows exactly what he does to me. He knows exactly how to draw me to him like a moth to the flame. I'm very sensitive to his moods, which are many. He feeds my sixth sense like a hungry baby bird. Its the "look over the left shoulder" phenomena. I'll be sitting at work minding my own damn business when I'll look up at the window on the atrium and see my reflection, look over my left shoulder, and then just pick the phone up and dial. Today though, I had a reason to call as my boss is interested in some property. The business part of our call lasted three minutes. The rest of the call lasted 37. He was stewing in his own juices when I rang him up. Angry. Exhausted. Pissed. Perturbed. Disgusted. Sullen. A cross-section of our conversation: I: So, how are ya today? A: I'm exhausted and fucking pissed off. (growled) I: What happened? A: Stupid fucking people. I'm so fucking exhausted. (sullen) I: What happened AZ? A: *sigh* Remember I had that wide screen TV to give away? I: Yup. A: It got locked in (name of bar) when they shut it down and I paid, out of my own fucking pocket, to get it out of there. I wanted the people that had already qualified to win it to still have the opportunity. I: No way! It got locked up with the other stuff? A: Yup, and I had to pay to get it hauled out of there too. I: Shit. A: And because I'm such a fucking nice guy I ended up with one guy laughing obnoxiously in one ear (imitates obnoxious laughing) and one guy trying to get me to give him free shit all night. (Imitates guy: "Hey man, I know ya got some stuff, why can't ya give me some stuff.") I: *snort* *giggle* A: So *snort* I look over at the laughing guy and I see my fork imbedded in his eyeball. I: *laughing* *snort* *cough* *snort* *laughing* A: But then I had to blink... and it was gone (fake sadness). I: *laughing* *cough* ahem... 'scuse me. A: And then I looked over and the other guy is laying on the floor, his head twisted around like the Exorcist. I: *belly laugh* A: And then I had to blink again *sniff* *sniff* I: Bwhahahhahaahahahahahahahahahaahahaha A: Hahahhahhahahhahahahahahaha... hee hee hee. *wicked evil laughter* I: *laughing* *snort* *gasp* A: I was having so much more fun until I blinked. (fake sadness) Then we both laughed and went on to talk about other things. I"m digressing because now I'm so exhausted. For better or worse... I still have contact with him. And because of that contact I have the opportunity to tell him how I feel. Like I wrote above, if you think I'm honest here, its nothing compared to what I write to him. Matter of fact, I put in my latest letter part of what I wrote in my blog yesterday... the malaria part and the paragraph before that about the self-torture. See, there are no "get out of purgatory free" cards here. My purgatory is his purgatory, meant viciously or not. We have finally gotten to the point where we have dialogue about it at times. I find myself much, much stronger and straight forward when given the opportunity than I used to be. I used to be very tongue-tied over things like this in the past and when I come out with shit in conversation I can tell it rocks him back a little. I find that talking to someone is an excellent way to communicate and not nearly as frightening as I always believed. Then again, I guess it depends on who's on the other end of the conversation. I contemplated, once again, just breaking all communication with him and telling him exactly why. Or just not telling him, which is the cowards way out. The thing is, I'm not sure what would make me more miserable, not talking to him or continuing to talk to him. That is something I will have to address with him. Soon. He's not the kind of person to say, "Do what you gotta do," and walk away. Well, he is, but not to me. Unfortunately (Fortunately? Unfortunately?) neither of us really have that ability with each other. I'm reminded of something that happened a long time ago. Probably in the first year to year and a half that we knew each other. We were laying in the bed. He was on his back and I was curled up next to him since its always arctic cold when we sleep (whether together or separately) and I was just drifting off when he ran his hand up my back and he said, "Hey." I raised my head and looked at him but he didn't look at me. "Know what I did the other day?" "No, what?" "I went through my address book and I erased people right out of my life." That sent a chill right up my spine. The finality of his words. "Oh." "But when I got your name, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't make myself erase you," and then he looked at me and I saw anger and pain in his eyes, and then they softened. I don't remember what I said, but I do know I probably kissed him and ran my hand down his chest. Then I would have turned over and he would have pulled me flush against him, draping his left arm over my waist, our hands intertwined and tucked between my breasts as we slept. Its okay AZ. I can't make myself erase you either.