You Lose

"Can I come over?" he asked me.

It was an early weekday morning. And while I am absolutely a morning person by definition, mornings are hectic for me. I have to get myself and the kid ready for work and school and get out the door at a decent time. Mornings just aren't a good time for company.

I told him No.

"Well will you come here? On your way to work?"

I told him I would if I had the time.... knowing good and well I would make the time.
I loved that man. {It doesn't matter who He is or when this was. It's the story that's important.}

I always made him a priority, no matter how illogical it was. But, again- I loved him. I rushed to get ready in enough time to be able to swing by to see him.

He loved me, too. I knew he did. He didn't show it in conventional ways, but I knew him in a different way than the others did. I knew his heart. He never actually wanted to hurt me. I just got too emotional and couldn't "hold it together"... (if I had a dollar for every time he told me that...) So, even though we weren't together, I knew that if I held out long enough he would see exactly what he had with me. He always came back. He loved me.

Right?

So I went. He was still in bed. I walked toward the bed. He pulled me toward him. Did I kiss him? I don't remember. We never really did kiss a whole lot. I guess that was probably pretty strange considering that I love kissing. But he was never much of a kisser, so we just didn't. So I don't remember if I kissed him or not. But I remember his hand on the back of my head as I slid under the covers... as I slowly and softly took him into my mouth... I could make love to him in my own way. And, I was good at it. It wasn't the act itself that I was good at. I knew that. It was that it was him. It was something about the way everything just seemed to fit. I had convinced myself that it was just another sign that we were meant to be together.

We had been "together" for long enough and enough times that I knew very well what to do to get him to "the point of no return" and could get him there very quickly. I considered it a gift. Once it was done, I stood up to tell him Goodbye and immediately felt awkward. I had to rush off to work so I wasn't too concerned with being sweet and emotional, but still needed something from him.

"Thanks," he said. I kind of let out a slight laugh.

"Later gator," I replied.

I climbed into my car and began to back out of the driveway. He had sent me a friend request on Facebook earlier that morning so I saw that as a huge step. Before I left his road, I clicked on his name on my phone. We had not been friends on Facebook in quite some time and I was interested to see what his life had looked like without me in it.

Nothing.

He had blocked me. Already. Just a couple of hours after adding me.

I closed out the app and went to my messages and before I had typed a thing, a message popped up under his name.

"You lose"

I lost. I gave in. Trusted that he was making some sort (no matter how small) of an effort.

But I lost.

Days went by and we didn't speak until he began drunkenly calling me that weekend.

I stupidly went back to see him. He loved me. He was only acting out of hurt before. He really did love me and I didn't expect anyone to understand.

So, again, I went back.

And, again, I can't remember if he kissed me.

And, again, I gave him what he wanted.

And, again... well. You get the picture by now. Only this time he didn't say "You Lose". This time he drunkenly told me that he wanted us. That he wanted it all. The next day I hardly heard from him at all.

I made efforts to text him... to have conversation... he was gone.

Again, I lost.

Now, I know that as you're reading this- most of you are thinking "What an idiot! What kind of low-self esteem person would continue to put herself through all of that? And in the name of what?? LOVE?? That's not LOVE. He doesn't LOVE her at all..."

And you're right. But, what's sad is--- there are a few girls reading this who know exactly where I was. And that's why I'm telling this story. Because I'm not the only person.

See- I'm not a weak girl. I have no problem walking away from a man when he's done me wrong. Most of the time. I'm not the girl to allow myself to be disrespected like that.

That's what I told myself. But when I started evaluating my relationships, I found that I don't let go when I should. But even still- I don't allow myself to be used. I can see it coming from a mile away. But I could never see it with him.

He loved me.

I heard the words. I heard my friends tell me that I could do better. I heard my best friend actually yell at me that I was an idiot for continuing to talk to him at all and at some point I was bringing it on myself. I heard all of it.

But he loved me.

And I lost.

But let me tell you something--- he didn't love me.
That's the most difficult reality I've ever had to face.
Whatever it was that he was doing or feeling- it wasn't love.

He was inflicting pain intentionally. He knew every time that he called or text or asked me over what he was about to do to me. And he didn't care. At least not enough to not do it. So I gave in every time.

And still- I lost.

I lost my best buddy.
I lost the man that I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with.
I lost my musical soul mate.
I lost my lover.
I lost the man who never really cared to listen to how my day was.
I lost someone who wouldn't bring me medicine when I was sick.
I lost a man who once actually said "I don't give a fuck about that" when I was telling him about something that was important to me.
I lost being cussed at and told what a whore I was when things didn't go his way.
I lost having to always be the one to give and seldom get anything in return.
I lost hearing that I'm incapable of "holding it together" when I get upset over something that I legitimately had a right to get upset over.
I lost sleepless nights wondering what I could possibly do to fix it all.

I may have lost our Sunday night sunsets, but I also lost a lifetime of empty promises.

He lost a girl who genuinely loved him with her entire heart. It takes so, so, so much for me to be done. But once I am- there's no going back. Once I finally made up my mind, it was actually kind of a relief to be able to say

No, Sir. You Lose.

Pearl earrings, Fences, and the Lies We Tell Ourselves

There are two kinds of girls in this world. Well- there are many kinds of girls in this world. But only two kinds we're going to talk about today.

Girls with pearl earrings... and girls without pearl earrings.

Let me explain. I haven't ventured very far north at all- at least not for more than a weekend- so I'm certain that the culture varies to some degree depending on what part of the country you're in. But I'm in the south. And in the south, pearls are a thing. Not just a "get dressed up on the weekends" thing, either. Girls down here wear pearls with anything. Gym shorts, t-shirt, flip flops.... and pearl earrings.

I'm not one of those girls.

Those girls have great hair. It's always shiny like the girls in the Pantene commercials. They have monogrammed vests that they wear with their flannel shirts. Their skirts go to their knees. Their shoes are close-toed. Their make up is flawless. They drink mimosas at brunch because it's trendy and not because they wanted an excuse to get drunk before lunch. They go to these little places where a steak is gonna cost you $50 rather than Texas Roadhouse just because they would rather be seen there. Their houses most likely look like pages ripped from a Pier1 catalog, and they have at least two framed photos with their sorority sisters, no matter how long they've been out of college. Their friends also have pearl earrings. They won't associate with anyone who doesn't have the exact same lifestyle that they do and they are the most judgmental bitches you will ever meet.

But KAYLA, you say to me, that sounds like YOU are being judgmental... that's because I am. I'm judging the shit out of them right now. But I own it. These pearl earring girls- they're judge-y and they exclude people and hate people that they don't even know. I'm not saying that they're horrible people. They just aren't my kind of people.

Well. That's not entirely true. I have pearl earring friends. But the majority of these PEGs would never have lunch with me. Or brunch. Or even invite me to a baby shower. Why? Because I'm not like them. I don't own a pair of pearl earrings. My apartment is usually at least somewhat of a mess because I have a five year old little boy running around. My décor is mostly hand made. I prefer whiskey to champagne. I prefer Kristofferson to Buble. I would rather have a chili cheese dog from the Lake Dogs than  some fancy steak from a place where I don't understand half of the ingredients in the dishes. And if I do want a steak, I'll go to the Rascals up the road. I don't have sorority sisters, but I do have my gang. My little hoodrats that are just as socially inacceptable as I am. These girls are real. The friends that I have love me. I mean like really love me. And what I love most about them is that they're just damn good people. They could have a legitimate enemy, but if that person were to actually need something- my friends would be there. That's my kind of person.

I appreciate a genuine person. But sometimes we all get caught up in the idea of what our lives are supposed to look like, don't we? We think that we're supposed to be married and have 2 kids and have a certain college degree and this particular career and a perfect house with this white picket fence and either be the girl with the pearl earrings or marry the girl with the pearl earrings.

I think about these girls and, I wont lie, I'm a little jealous. They look like they always smell good, don't they? They just look fresh all the time. It makes me wonder what their routine is like... in the morning... at night before they go to bed. I feel like I need to follow them around and take notes. But then I think about their sex lives and I imagine that they are completely boring. I could be totally wrong, but I also imagine the PEGs to be the "it's not your birthday" kind of girls, as well.

I'm not saying that these girls won't find true love. They have as good a shot as the rest of us. Hell, probably more of a shot. But they'll probably end up married to Bow-tie Guy and they'll have their little baby boys in bubble suits with smocking on the front. With a bonnet. On a boy.

I couldn't be happy with that life. I don't want Bow-tie Guy. He wouldn't like my kind of music. He wouldn't have a clue why it's imperative that I see Robert Earl Keen in Corpus Christi... he likely wouldn't even know who REK is. And he couldn't handle a girl like me.

See, I'm the kind of girl who doesn't know how to be anything other than myself. I can't pretend to be anything other than me. I can't pretend like I'm not loud and passionate and crazy. Because I am all of those things. And I can't imagine that I want to live anywhere other than Lake Park unless I moved to St Augustine to be closer to my best friend. I look in the mirror and ask if I'M happy with what I see in the mirror. I can't ask myself if every one else would be happy with it because I can't care. I'm from the south. I have a little PEG in me. I want everything monogrammed. And I have a dress or two that I think would look great with pearls.

But I don't need them.

And I don't need the white picket fence.

And I don't want bow tie guy.

And I don't want to be worried about what anyone else thinks my life should look like.

I don't want to live a lie because it's what looks better.

I just want to be happy. Whether that means that I'm single forever, or if I get married next week (I am not getting married next week)--- I just want to be happy.