Hell or High Water

"Hey, look! It's the girl from Valdosta with the Blow Job Blog!"... a friend was joking about how I will be known after that last post. Soooooo I feel like I need to clarify a couple of things. 1. I live in Lake Park. Not Valdosta. I'm not quite sure why that part is so important to me, but it is. Second, this isn't a "blow job blog". It isn't a "sex blog". It isn't even a blog centered around The Ex (although, at times that seems to be what it's been).

It's me. Just a blog about me and my life and my exploits or my lack thereof.

I told you from the start it wasn't glamorous. Hell, it's 4:30 on a Sunday afternoon and I'm in flannel pajama pants, wearing a mint julep mask, drinking a root beer flavored beer, listening to Randy Travis, and waiting for my ex husband to come over for dinner. Seriously. Does that SOUND glamorous?? Shouldn't I be drinking cosmos or something? Maybe at least wearing real clothes??

I also told you from the start that I wasn't over Him. Pretty sure I tell everyone that. In fact, I think my dental hygienist is even aware. So, I think it makes sense that behind every failed relationship (or attempt) is Him. Now this doesn't mean that he's come back into my life and prevented me from moving on. Not always, at least. He says that I only remember the bad. He says I'm incapable of focusing on any of the good. He's wrong. He's dead wrong. See- the good is what has stopped me from being able to do what I've known for so long that I should. I remember the good.

I remember the way he looked at me the moment that I realized that he was in love with me. Turns out, that's the moment that he realized it, as well. I remember the way he smiled with his eyes. I remember his laugh. Not his half-ass laugh, but the one where he truly thought something I said was funny. See- I remember all this. I remember how he loved my son. I remember how, when it came down to it, he did absolutely everything he could for both me and this little boy. So I definitely remember the good. It's what kept me holding on for as long as I did.

But I can't think about that. That stuff doesn't help me move on. It's better for me to think about the other. It makes more sense for me to remind myself of that "You lose" text or the weekend he hauled off to cheat on me all weekend or the many, many, many empty promises. I accepted the way he was. Because all I could think about was the good.

I won't act like I was perfect. I wasn't. Pretty much the only thing I did do right in that relationship was love him. I was faithful and I loved him. And that about sums it up. I wasn't some phenomenal girlfriend. I was a pain in the butt and obnoxious and asked for too much. I wanted things that I knew, going in, he just wouldn't give me. But I thought I could change that. Not change him per se, but change what he wanted. That was absurd. I really couldn't hold it together. I once flew completely off the handle when we had friends over. Dropping the f-bomb. I was pissed. I once broke his nose. (Granted, that was after his aforementioned weekend sexcapade debacle.) It wasn't healthy. I wasn't a good girlfriend. He wasn't a good boyfriend. So, I don't know why I thought we would be a good husband and wife for each other.

Actually. That's a lie. I know exactly why. It was us. Regardless of all the reasons we shouldn't have been together, when the lights went out and every one went home- it was just us. Just me and him and our music. Music was something that could bind us together like nothing else in this world. Even to this day, I consider music "our thing". Isn't that ridiculous? Everyone loves music. (and if you don't, you're wrong.) But we could use Jason Eady or Travis Tritt or Kris Kristofferson or Johnny Cash to speak for us when we couldn't find the words for ourselves. I could lay my head on his chest... on my spot... and fight over who got to play the next song... and laugh... and fall asleep in his arms. No matter what else had transpired that day or that weekend or even that month. Music was our thing.

But it wasn't enough. It was silly for me to ever think it could be. I know that. And I've moved on. I moved on months ago with a great man. Fell in love. Was happy. Was actually very happy. Then that ended. And I'm not yet ready to talk about the whys or hows because.... well. I don't really know exactly why. Maybe because I realized that I still needed to get this music out of my system before I tried to process how the next song ended. I don't know.

I do know this, though. It doesn't matter that I loved him. It doesn't matter that I believed he loved me. It doesn't matter that for all that time I thought he was "it" or what it was that made me realize that he couldn't be. All that matters is that he isn't. He isn't my person. He isn't "the one". And I don't really care if I've already met the man I'm "destined" (if I believed in such a thing) to spend the rest of my life with or if I won't meet him for 20 more years. That doesn't matter. What matters is that I know that he's not that man.

Love. I can't define it. But I know what you don't do when you love someone. And because of that, I can honestly say that he never loved me. I know that. I believe that he loved certain things about our relationship. And I believe that what I saw in his eyes that moment that he realized he was in love with me was real. He was in love with what he was looking at. And that girl was absolutely me. But it was just a part of me. He wasn't so in love with the rest. And I'm complex. I'm not easy to love. I know that. I'm easy for you to think you're falling in love with me. I have guys falling for me every day. And it's not because I'm the prettiest (I'm definitely not) or the smartest (although I am pretty intelligent) or anything else. It's because they like the realness of it all. They like that I tell 'em to fuck off when they get on my nerves, maybe. I don't know. Or maybe they all read the blog and think they're gonna get laid (if you're reading this and thinking that, I'm so sorry. Not hap'nin' cap'n). So it's easy for guys to think they're falling for me. It's a lot more difficult to find one that's really all in come hell or high water. I don't think anyone really knows what that means any more.

But I'm pretty sure that when I find that guy, he'll be THE guy.