Need A Transitional Relationship? I’m Your Girl!
Fate is one mean bitch, speaking from extensive experience here. She seems to delight in bringing me good things then once I am attached to them on an emotional level she takes them back. Is it any wonder my heart is usually locked up and kept away from even the people I love?
From the first serious relationship I had in high school I’ve learned that I have a purpose in the lives of men…to transition them. For some the transformation took longer than others, from a matter of weeks to 22 years, but eventually the result is the same. I board their ships for a time, but sooner or later they deposit me back on the island of broken hearts to wait for the next needy soul to come along and take part of my heart. Over the years I learned to hide more and more of myself behind walls and masks in an effort to protect who and what I am.
My first marriage was a disaster from the start. I should have known that someone that spent more time drunk than sober could be an issue. But at 19 I was young and naive and thought it would be blissful. I was a wide open book, full of Cinderella dreams and love for a man who spent most of that time completely unaware of reality. People who drink to the point of blacking out tend to have to fill in the blanks of what happened because they cannot recall what occurred in their drunken stupor. I even believed for a time he was sincerely sorry when he’d see the bruises all over me the next day from his violent rages and not recall what he did. I knew the pattern…drink, get happy, drink more, get all sappy and lovey dovey, then drink more and the depression started setting in, a few more beers and he was out of control and violent. I learned to make myself scarce when the affectionate side started, usually had him tuck me in bed and then pray he drank himself to sleep. If not, he would come find me and start the hell all over again. That was when I learned to fight back. Corner me, threaten me, and hurt me and I will go all crazy bitch on you. The final straw came while I was pregnant with my son, when he hit me for the very last time. I did what I should have done the first time several years earlier, I called the cops. Back then they tried to sooth things over and calm it down, they made him take a walk. That next night he went out and when I got up the next morning, when he was supposed to be at work, I found him face down in a puddle of blood on the dining room floor. He had come home so drunk he fell face first into the dining room table and knocked himself cold. He got up, called in sick for work and went to bed. I packed my shit and called my parents and moved out. Of course he was so sorry later, even joined AA, and I moved back into the house. For a few months he stopped drinking and sunk into one of the worst depressions I’ve encountered in anyone. After the baby was born he became a very dark, mean person, but at least he didn’t hit me anymore. Then one day I came home from work and he had packed and left. He made a choice, drinking was more important to him than me and our son. He got the house, I moved into apartment and moved on.
I went through a number of relationships after that, but none lasted long. I refused to be pushed around again, but I also didn’t want a weak man that I could walk on. I’m a strong personality and a stubborn streak matched by few I know. It is a survival mechanism I suppose. When you grow up the misfit as a kid, you learn to build your outer shell pretty thick, even if you are dying inside.
The second marriage…I’ve hashed that one out more times in my posts than I care to go into. We were two people that when together could attract more bad luck in life than anyone deserves and after so many years of being knocked down at every turn, we both were behind some pretty thick walls. I will always love him, it’s what I do, love completely. I was far from perfect, but I tried my best while keeping my vulnerable sides safely locked away. Maybe that was the issue? He rarely got a glimpse of that because if he reacted negatively to a piece of me I closed it off and never let out again. I didn’t even know me by the time we divorced. He was his own damaged, train wreck when I met him and while I loved him completely and was my hero, it was surprising it got to the 22 year mark.
Despite what both husbands told me, that I’m a “total package kind of woman” (whatever the hell that means), and a multitude of boyfriends (a few even recently) told me I was amazing, wonderful, smokin hot, they love me….no one wants to keep me. Each one seems to gravitate my way when their lives are in turmoil or fresh from battle. They take me aboard their ships, we dance on the waves for awhile, and then they return me to the shore of that island again and sail away. Most only were given a tiny piece of me, I’ve learned to be very cautious now. But no matter how small the piece they get to take with them, it still leaves me hurting.
Recently I was careless, and I let my guard down, and exposed too much of me yet again and once again got my heart broken really good. And it wasn’t anyone’s fault this time, this guy was great, someone really special. Just bad timing, a battle torn ship, a crazy fun ride on the waves, and me letting myself be vulnerable and revealing a peek at the softer side of me that I’ve kept locked up since the first marriage failed. Damn fate and the magic she knows how to weave, just when I felt safe and secure, and let myself really feel something, she yanked it away yet again. I never learn. 😦
I’m back behind the walls, adding a few more layers of protection around my heart and soul. The drawbridge is going up on my castle on the Island Of Broken Hearts, and there are extra piranhas in the mote. There just isn’t enough left of my heart anymore and it isn’t regenerating like it used too. I don’t think I can handle it again, this opening up to have fate feed my heart through the shredder again. I’m keeping what is left for myself now.
Looking for a transitional relationship, one to get you through a rough spot in life? *waving hand in the air* I’m your girl. Booty call, drinking buddy, take in a baseball or football game….but NO emotions, no caring, no giving a shit what your day was like at the office. I will listen, say all the right things and even offer advice, but don’t ask for or expect any real care, because it simply isn’t there to give anymore. Don’t tell me what a great fit we are, how lucky you are to have me, cause you don’t have me. No one does. I’m not keeper material and if you so much as say “I love you” I’ll be gone from your life so fast it will make your head spin.
I recently said I was one bad relationship from owning 10 cats. More accurately, I was one broken heart away, and I’m starting to look at kittens more seriously so yeah, this is one princess that is staying locked in the tower. The guards are ordered to shoot the next Prince Charming on site.