If the shoe don’t fit, it’s time to split…..

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So many relationships I have tried to force a square peg into a round hole.   I try to “fix” these men’s character flaws.   This one over here is a serial philanderer.  Rather than being accepting that is what he likes and letting him go to find someone who is accepting of that……I try to force monogamy on him.

Oh shit yeah, that really worked out well.   My life became the fucking Nancy Drew mystery complete with collecting fiber evidence and trace DNA.

Another one is a compulsive liar.   Instead of me realising that the man has covered his tracks since he was 5 years old gettin’ caught by his momma with his hand in the cookie jar, hell no!  I go on a crusade to save him and re-teach him the Ten Commandments.   Being Christian and all, thinking that a refresher in morality will “remind” him that lying is wrong.

and did it work?   My friends, no it does not.   It is exhaustive.

The lesson learned is that when you come across a romantic person of interest, and you see red flags-a-waving.   The person’s morality differs from yours at a core level.  You fucking run.  You do not pass go, you do not collect your two hundred.   You fucking run.

I have learned the problem is not with any man  out there in the world or their fucked up character flaws,    the problem is with me.   I need to keep the focus on me. Continue to work on MY character flaws. Healing my issues/demons/wounds et cetera.    Getting this train wreck, back on track.   If someone else wants to stay de-railed…..that is their own choice.   I cannot afford any more drama or tears.   I will look 90 by the time I am in my forties.

So if the shoe doesn’t fit, don’t use a shoe horn…… just walk on by.

But sadly I only seem to grasp this at an intellectual level so I am fated to repeat this shit again…..

Fun times ahead….

I was born depressed.

Despair

I remember walking into kindergarten class and feeling so nervous that I knew I was just different… had to bed different.  I was excited to be at school but also felt sick inside because even at such a tender age I noticed feeling “less than” or not as good as the other kids and wasn’t sure exactly why.

Maybe I was born depressed. Who knows.

For certain though anxiety  and depression are the steady diet I have consumed since I can remember.

Once, I was sitting in this counselor’s office doing some sort of guided meditation and all of a sudden we were at the part where you start relaxing your body parts one at a time from head to toe et cetera.  By the time I got down to my tummy this heavy feeling came over me and I blurted out as I freaked out, “I am feeling really weird!!!” and she said, “what are you experiencing ?”

so I told her I felt sort of heavy and groggy-like….to which she said,

Sweetie, that is what it feels to be relaxed.

Well someone slap me silly.  I don’t think I ever achieved that again.  It felt so foreign I couldn’t sit with it long enough again.  Instead if felt more comfy to swig back booze and benzodiazepines.

Just sayin’.

Into thin air….

At one time, my heart broke over this sex-addict.  He was sleeping with prostitutes, going to gang bangs, whoring around with swingers, doing NSA chicks off Craigslist, and caning, whipping, flogging, spanking my ass.

Tell me there is nowhere to go but up from THAT shit …

Oh but indeed I managed to sink lower…..

My heart is presently ripping in two, because my latest relationship just went belly up; into thin air.

While he was passed out from drinking two pints of Vodka (his usual daily intake) I looked at his cell phone while he was passed out,  I know I know wrong on so many levels.   And found he’d texted his buddy in San Fransisco asking if there are any conservative hot chicks there.

To which his buddy replied, “do you mind Asian girls?”  He’s already procuring the next piece of ass while he’s sleeping off his hangover in my bed.

But he said he loved me and wanted to marry me, and I freakin trusted him! I freakin’drank the Kool-aid.   He appears for his pre-trial divorce hearing in a few weeks, signed his parental rights away to his 3 kids, got thrown out of his parents house for acting like such a verbally abusive asshat, has no job because he resigned in a drunken stupor but by the time he reneged, they accepted, just got out of two detox’s in a row.

*****

My mind and heart are on parallel courses.

I thought if I just showed him what love could be, what kindness could be, if I cleaned up his puke, held his hand through his Librium haze, tolerated his calling me denigrating names when he is shit faced…..

gave him the best head he ever had, kissed him from head to toe, read from the Big Book, prayed with him, booked his doctors appointments for him, reminded him to keep them, maybe he would see he had something good?   WTF??

Even sadder, I still love him.   And wish that at the end up the episode it could all work out and that he would get sober and stop lying.  That we could live happily ever after in the Barbie Dream house with the convertible by the pool.   But not…..with that fucking Skipper bitch.

*****

Oh, please…like you’ve never had any train-wreck breakups….pfffftt.

I could fall in love at a red light

That’s what my friend Al told us in an AA meeting the other day, and I chuckled as I heard him say it because it aptly described me.

Well at least that’s how it feels when I do fall in love.   It happens so fast, so forcefully.   The way “normal” people describe it, they tell their story of how they fell in love….as if they met at some random place and over many many times get to know each other.  Seems normal yanno.

Me, I end up finding my suitor at said random place but then end up telling them my life story in under 5 minutes and then falling completely madly in love in the next 5.

Yeah, I’m so relationship material.

I have such excellent fucking boundaries don’t cha know.

Then two weeks later when the guy cold calls me at 3 am to pick him up and rescue him from some dramatic crazy situation?

You guessed it, I am right there with my fucked up cape on, driving to east overshoe in some contorted Mother Teresa-esque fashion hoping to “save” him from himself.

And this would describe the “good part” of the relationship, if it even gets off the ground.

It usually only gets worse from there….consisting of me taking verbal abuse or worse.

nuff said.

****

think I need drivers-ed, or maybe a total license suspension to drive on the highway of love.

SIDE BAR:  Mother Teresa is one of the greatest people who ever lived…….an awesome inspiration to me.  A real life modern day heroine.