10 Little Things That Happened Last Week

1. Monday of last week, Bill and I decided to be irresponsible adults, and play hookie together at his house. I know, we're terrible people. We made breakfast, watched Party Down {one of my new favoritest shows} and basically laid around all day being awesome. It's ok, I know you're jealous.

2. Last week I was also able to indulge my long standing Ryan Gosling crush {shhh don't tell Bill}, by seeing the Ides of March during my skip day with Mr. Becker. The movie was good, definitely different than what I expected, and Ryan Gosling really does just get better {and cuter} with each movie he does.

3. I got to hang out {briefly} with Miss Lucia Williams, my long lost friend and sister in law, on Friday for some much needed girl talk. I think I got her all caught up on the drama in my life as of late. Now here's to hoping next time I see her I have nothing dramatic or crazy to report.....a girl can dream, right?

4. Had some pretty intense girl time with my Samus on Friday night, which included a short stay at Chopper John's where I was serenaded by some douche's and we were briefly followed by a very drunk guy who's penis touched my knee. The exciting life I lead....

I also wrote this on the bathroom wall, cuz I am the best girlfriend in the world:

5. Did you know that there are candles that melt into warm massage oil?! I DID NOT. I learned that over the weekend, and I don't know how I lived 24 years without possessing one of these awesome candles.

6. The kids and I made Halloween pizzas, which was amazingly fun. Each kid got a small lump of dough, which they were to flatten, shape into a crust, and decorate with whatever toppings they wanted, into some sort of Halloween creature. I made a pumpkin {original, right?!} Tiny made and owl and the Jedi made a puppy. Not exactly Halloween themed, but cute. I didn't get pictures, cuz I suck, but it was awesome!

7. My CD player in my car broke. And then my head exploded because the CD stuck in there sucks. 

8. TOTALLY got into an altercation with a stranger in Safeway. Yep. That happened.

9. Took the Jedi to Starbucks Saturday morning, where we sat outside drinking my coffee/his juice, when the Jedi asked to talk to my dad. We called him, and when my dad asked the Jedi what he was doing, he responded with "Oh just having some drinks with mom". Great, kid.

10. Finished reading Running with Scissors by Augusten Burroughs. Had a lot more graphic gay sex scenes in it than the cover suggests:

A Sunday Rarity

For those of you who don't know {or didn't read our love story and figured it out...ahem, read the fucking story}, Bill has two kids. 

I also have two kids.

Bill works.

I also do something that sort of resembles working.

We're busy people.

We have our standing Saturday night "date night" if you will, which means every Saturday night we ditch our kids {lovingly} and hang out together at his house. 

We've had this running night together since back when we were "complicated" and we still maintain it to this day. It is the ONE guaranteed night in a week that have together. Guaranteed time together is hard to come by when between the two of us we have two jobs, four kids, one ex-wife and about 109402932080192 responsibilities. 

Normally, Bill has to get up super duper early {read somewhere around 8} on Sunday morning to go take his daughter to church....temple....I don't know religious worship place name things.

That means we rarely, if ever get to spend time together on Sunday. He gets up, showers and dresses while I begrudgingly put on my clothes and curse him for waking me up so early, and after a kiss in his garage, we part ways for the day. 

This weekend......THIS WEEKEND! We got to spend Sunday together.

Dun da da dunnnnnn!

It was awesome.

We got up {EARLY. Damn you, Bill} and I made us breakfast. Our standard Robins in a nest, or as some people of the bipolar persuasion refer to it "eggs in a bread hole", and then we laid around for a while doing nothing. Bill took some work calls and did some shit on his computer with spreadsheets that made me cross eyed, so I laid back down in his bed.

When he came looking for me and found me sleeping, I opened my eyes to find him laying beside me, and experienced one of those awesome "waves of powerful emotion", where I just felt so completely in love.

Finally, around 11:30 I lured him out of bed with treats, and we got in the car.

We drove out to the lake/river area, and wandered through the woods for a while, talking and holding hands. 

We sat next the water and talked about our futures, our kids, what we loved most about our relationship, and Bill even presented me with some half melted, slightly squished Reese's Peanut Butter cups. He knows me too well. 

After that, we headed back to Chandler and ate Greek food while Bill filled me in on his new life as a construction worker. I also realized I need to ask what he does at work more often...

All in all it was a perfect weekend, and a wonderful day. 

Bill and I haven't had the easiest road to where we are now, but I feel so unbelievably lucky to have made it this far with him. To still be able to call him my boyfriend, and to be the one spending lazy Sundays in the woods with him.

I really don't know how I could be any luckier.

He even walked into ALL the spider webs for me, so I wouldn't get bitten and die.

What a guy.

<3

When We're Us

On days when we are us

I wonder how there ever could've been a me without a you.

You're the envelope that encloses me like a letter, 

You're the stable Earth beneath my steps,

And together we are invincible.

Our love glows and expands 

Stretching upwards and outwards

It becomes a solar system, a planet, a habitat, a life form

And it contains every star

Every spectrum of color

It is beautiful, beyond any measure of words.

On days when we are not us

The sky becomes the ground and I fall right through.

I am alone in a crowd full of people.

There are too many lights, too many sounds and too many sharp teeth.

Mouths move, moths fly out.

I am impossibly alone. 

I hold on to the remnants of the days when we were us like they are jettison from our ship

The feel of your hand against my face

The way I fit into you when we hold each other in bed, like puzzle pieces, a satisfying *click* as we come together

Light on your face

Your hair messed up as you smile in bed beside me in the morning

I reread your letters

I look at your pictures.

I try to remember when everything was beautiful

And nothing hurt.

I'm Tired

This is what I look like when my kids act like crack monkeys in the grocery store.

Before I say anything, I would like to say, that I've said all of this before. 

I have talked about what being a single mom is like.

I have talked about how hard it can be, and all the little ways in which it can be tiring.

And I have said before, as I will say now, that I know this is the life I chose when I decided to have children. 

I know that being a parent in inherently hard. I never expected it to be easy.It insults me when people respond to my exhaustion, my worry, my frustration and my loneliness with 

"No one said parenting is easy."

OF COURSE NO ONE SAID IT WAS EASY.

That doesn't mean that sometimes it doesn't just suck that it's so hard.

Today, I'm tired. 

I am exhausted. 

There are just days when doing this by myself wears me out.

And to add another disclaimer: saying I do this by myself is NOT meant to be a slap in the face to those who do help me when they can.

It means that the day to day, the morning noon and night shit that comes with keeping a household of three people together, I do that shit by myself.

And it's exhausting.

Do you know what it's like to answer every question a three year old boy has, because you're the only one there to answer them?

I once thought that if someone asked me what I expected the hardest thing about being a single parent would be, I would've said providing for my kids. If they'd asked what I thought the most important thing a parent had to do would be, I would say making them feel loved.

Now I would answer both questions the same way: Talking to them.

Do you know how hard it is to find time to talk to your seven-almost-eight year old about her day and her thoughts and every single thing she wants to tell you, when you have a three year old boy....anywhere in the house?

Do you know what it's like to never do anything by yourself? I mean nothing. I don't grocery shop, get gas, run an errand, clean out the van, clean my house, do laundry or cook dinner without my kids in tow. Hauling two kids around everywhere can make even the simplest task utterly exhausting. Just going to get something quickly from the story means: Get everyone's shoes on Find everyone's shoes, primarily Jack's because he seems to hide them like they're fucking Easter eggs every time he takes them off, get the shoes on, tell both kids "No you cannot bring that toy/book/doll/whatever with us, we're going to the store for five minutes" about 20 times, walk everyone out to the car, yell "Jack get back here! Lainie slow down! Jackson! Get BACK HERE!" about 5 times, get Jack into his car seat, buckle him, break up a fight about who sits where, make Lainie sit in the way back so they're separated and can't find, get in, take a deep breath, start the car and field about 200293089238238 questions about life, the universe and everything in the 10 minute drive to Fry's. Find a space, tell everyone ahead of time you are NOT buying toys/candy/ice cream/cookies/whatever before getting out the car. Get everyone out, hustle them into the store before Jack wiggles out of your grip and gets run over by a car, grab a cart and yell at everyone to STAY WITH YOU FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, negotiate the isles with your cart while simultaneously trying to keep your kids from pulling everything off the shelves or throwing random shit in the cart. Stop to pull them up off the floor about 8 times, since they keep stopping and throwing themselves down in front of the cart to....do something that appears to be breakdance fighting.....apologize to the 40 people they've bumped into, cut off or stepped on, and try to get the fuck out of the store before you start crying.

And that's the short version of a trip to the store.

It's just so much to do all by yourself, all the time. 

From the moment I wake up, I have 3 people to get dressed and out the door, and no help. I pick the kids up, everyday. I make every meal we eat in this house. I wash every load of laundry. I wipe every tear, I give every bath, I brush Lainie's hair every night, I make every bed, I read every story, I wash every dish, I take out every single bag of trash. I fold all the washed and dried laundry. I carry it upstairs and put it away. I drop the kids off I pick the kids up I clean up after the kids. 

What I wouldn't give some days to be able to text someone and say "hey can you grab milk on your way home? I need it for dinner. Thanks" or "Hey I'm running late, could you start dinner?" or "I didn't get to the dishes last night, could you start them so I can start dinner as soon as I get home, cuz the kids are ravenous already and if they wait more than 20 minutes for dinner they'll eat my soul."

And some nights, like tonight, I wish that after that was all done, that I could sit on the couch with someone who would bring me ice cream and put on a movie. 

I have to coordinate, organize, clean up and look after the lives of three people. Sometimes doing that by myself just makes me so so tired.

62 Things I Love About You

1. The way you smile. It literally lights up the whole room.

2. The sound of your laugh. It's genuine and happy and you make the cutest face when you laugh.

3. The way you smell. Delicious.

4. Your chivalry. You save the good parking spot for me, you open doors, you come help me when I have flat tires and you always walk me to my car.

5. The way you throw your leg over my hip when we lay in bed together.

6. You always watch the shows I like with me.

7. The little back east accent you get when you're hungry.

8. You save all the mixed the CD's I make for you.

9. You text me good morning, and goodnight, every day.

10. You tell me that I'm beautiful.

11. You write me letters and give me cards, and BEARS, for no reason.

12. The way you kiss me. The way it makes me feel weak, and I can't decide if I want to keep kissing you, or collapse against you and tell you over and over how much I love you.

13. The way you cuddle with me in movie theaters. 

14. The way you talk to me at 1 in the morning if I'm too drunk and can't find my friend.

15. The way you take my hand and lead me through big crowds like you're protecting me.

16. The way you look with a shampoo mohawk :)

17. The way you always have a glass of water waiting for me when I come over at night.

18. The way you touch my face.

19. The way you look at me.

20. The way you say I love you.

21. The way you're always warm but never sweaty when I hug you.

22. Your sweet calves.

23. The way my hand feels tiny in yours.

24. The way you hold my hand when you drive.

25. You always help me cook when I cook for you. 

26. You're a good dad, and you genuinely love being a father.

27. The way you're so cute with little kids.

28. The way you look when you first wake up in the morning.

29. How you love me with everything you have, and you don't hold back.

30. How hard you try to make me feel happy and special and loved.

31. You're intelligent, which is a rare quality. 

32. Your dedication to us.

33. You read my blog, and you say you like my writing.

34. When I'm upset, you care.

35. You're kind. A lot of people are nice. Not many people are truly kind. You are.

36. You're selfless.

37. You're brave.

38. You're fucking HILARIOUS. I laugh so hard when I'm with you.

39. Being with you is peaceful.

40. You're strong. 

41. Your dedication to us. You are overcoming and accepting and forgiving mistakes that could've killed us, because you love me. I've never been loved that much. And I never will be again by anyone else.

42. You're unbelievably sexy.

43. You make being 41 look fucking amazing. You're way too hot for your age.

44. You're not cocky, or boastful or overly macho. You're a man. You act like a man.

45. You get me.

46. You entertain all my ridiculous ideas, like going swimming in the beginning of October, even though you know it's too cold. 

47. You go find stars with me.

48. I could talk to you all night, and never get tired of what you have to say.

49. I can sit with you quietly, and never feel uncomfortable in the silence.

50. You kiss me, hug me and hold my hand in public.

51. You always text back.

52. The way you rub my back.

53. Panther nights!

54. Not lunch!

55. Skip days!

56. You genuinely try. You make an effort. You care.

57. You make the best of shitty situations.

58. I can do anything with you, and we'll find something to laugh or smile or joke about.

59. The way you hold me.

60. You'll go out of your way for the people you love.

61. You love with all your heart. As hard and as big as you possibly can.

62. You're simply beautiful. Inside and out. You amaze me, every single day that I know you with your strength, your compassion your honesty and your warmth. You make me want to try harder, to love more, to be more open, honest and giving. You make me want to be better. 

You are the love of my life. 

And there are a million things I love about you.

This list just contains a few.

Our Love Story: Part Eight

Part 8! The Happy Ending.

As I stood there in Bills hallway kissing him with everything that I had, for the first time ever, I felt him kiss me back with all he had too. I melted into his kiss, I blurred into his edges, I dissolved against his skin like chalk on the sidewalk in the rain. I was swirling paint, mixing with him, I was cloud shapes morphing into a smear of gray and white. 

We kissed for so long, I couldn't breathe. When I realized he had me pushed against the wall, I pulled away and asked for a drink. I still had a lot to say.

We moved into the kitchen where he poured me a shot of Patron and cut me a piece of lime. I drank the Patron quickly, and asked him, breathless and feeling warm already from the booze, if he knew what I had done before I came over.

No, he said.

He smelled like alcohol. Not Tequila. He'd been drinking.

I saw a movie, I said.

He didn't see what a big deal this was. 

I went on to explain what movie I saw, and why it was important, and as he stood there wide eyed, watching me have a mental breakdown, I said this:

"The point is, when we ended things in that daycare parking lot back in April, I was fine with that. Yous aid you didn't want me, and I walked away. Then, you came after me. You chased me. And we got back together. And when you broke up with me, that was FINE, because you said you didn't love me, and if that was true then you should've gone. It was the right thing to do. But then last night, you laid in bed with me and told me you LOVED ME?! If you love someone, you fight for them, You don't let them go, you don't leave them, you DO NOT let them marry other people. But you did. So what that means is that either you didn't love me enough to fight for me, or you're just a coward. And I can't live in a world where either of those things are true, so I need you to tell me you don't love me. Ready, go."

And I stood there, holding the edge of the counter, bracing myself to hear that he didn't love me. But instead, he smiled.

He moved toward me, took my face in his hands and said quietly "Oh is that all?" I nodded as tears filled my eyes.

"I can't do that." he said. And then he kissed me.

We stood in that kitchen most of the night hammering things out. We said we loved each other probably 100 times, we kissed until my lips hurt, we drank until my eyes blurred.

And we agreed to take a chance. 

One more time.

We were finally both in love with each other, and we got back together.

I wish that I could tell you that it was all a piece of cake after that. 

It isn't.

It's taken a lot of hard work and uncomfortable self awareness for me to learn to accept that Bill really loves me. It's a struggle every day to remember that things are different now, and that I can trust this to last in a way that it never did before, because we're both really all in it this time.

In the process of learning and retraining myself and trying to undo years of damage from him, my childhood and what I've inflicted on myself, I've made a lot of mistakes. 

I've hurt him.

I've hurt us.

I've hurt myself.

But I'm trying. 

I'm learning.

I'm not giving up, and I'm not walking away.

I'm loving him every day, and doing everything I can to put our love and my commitment to him and to us, before my pride, before my anger, before my need to be right, before my restless wild impulsive nature.

I'm not perfect.

I don't get it right every day, and some of the mistakes I've made have left permanent scars on our relationship.

But we love each other to forgive, to heal, to take care of each other and say I'm sorry, and try to move on. 

We keep at it. 

We keep loving each other.

Because this is my home. This is my destiny. And there is nowhere else that I could possibly belong other than in his arms.

This is our love story, and it's far from over.

I love you more than the air that I breathe, Bill.

I always have.

I always will.

Our Love Story: Part Seven

This is part seven. Read the previous six parts, or expect to have no fucking idea what's going on.

That is all.

I knew when I got back from San Diego that I needed to talk to Bill. I knew he knew now for sure that I was seeing someone else had gotten engaged to someone else, and I knew he was mad, if not hurt and upset. We started emailing back and forth, and he laid everything he was thinking and feeling about me, us and Neil on the line. He was sad, he was confused, and most of all he was misguided. He thought I had started seeing Neil before he and I had broken up, which wasn't true, but I had hid Neil from him so completely that I knew why he would feel that way. I just couldn't tell him about what was happening. It was too painful to tell the person I had loved for so long, that I was trying to love someone else. It felt like if I told him that, then it was final. It was really over, and I would never be able to tell Bill that I loved him ever again.

I hid so much, from everyone.

I hurt Bill. I hurt Neil. I hurt myself. 

I made so many permanent mistakes.

For three days we emailed back and forth, him trying to explain how hurt and upset he was, me trying to explain why I had hid things, how I was feeling, and why I had moved on so quickly. Neither of us got anywhere, and each email hurt more than the last one.

One night I opened my email to find a message from him that said he couldn't be a part of my life anymore. I had moved on, and he needed to let me go because it hurt too much to see me happy with someone else.

I broke down. 

I cried as I read the email over and over, and I got that familiar feeling of panic in my chest that I used to get when I was little and I couldn't find my Mom. I felt like she had somehow disappeared forever, and I felt like he was disappearing and I couldn't stop it. I called him, no answer. 

After I caught my breath, I typed out an email. 

With tears streaming down my face, I told him goodbye. I said I understood why he couldn't stay, but that I would miss him and love him and think of him forever. For the rest of my life I would wonder where he was, and if he was ok, and if he missed me too. The words seemed so incomplete. 

How do you say goodbye to someone you'd loved so much for so long?

It's like being asked to say goodbye to half of your heart, and being expected to not notice the missing beats. 

I said goodbye though, as eloquently as I could, and I laid down in bed feeling shattered. I had lost him. For good.

The next day I was a zombie. I didn't expect to ever hear from him again.

That night, much to my surprise, I got one more email from him.

He said he was sorry, but he couldn't walk away from me forever. He had given me a piece of his soul and he wanted me to keep it. He wanted to stay in my life but he needed time apart to heal and get his shit together.

I would grant him all the time apart he needed, if it meant I wasn't losing him forever.

Days went by, then weeks. We didn't speak. We didn't text. I missed him like hell.

And then fate intervened. 

I got in a car accident.

Nothing major, I just kind of sort of rear ended somebody in the kiss-and-ride line at Lainie's school. Whoopsie.

I posted on Facebook about it, and that night, I got a text from Bill asking if I was ok.

And that was all it took.

We started texting. 

We started talking again.

And just having him back in my life, even in that simple small way, was enough.

I felt almost whole again.

When we finally hung out again, I went over to his house to see him. We were laying in bed talking, and I don't remember ever feeling that close to him before. It was like some layer of him had been stripped away, and he was laying there beside me more warm and open than ever before. I wanted to hold him. I wanted to lay in his arms and feel his heat for the rest of the night-for the rest of my life. 

I couldn't put my finger on it, but something distinct had changed.

He was vulnerable. Open. Honest. Real.

As we laid there talking, he wrapped himself around me, and told me: "I know you don't think I ever loved you, and I know I never said it, but I did love you. I do. I love you."

With my head held tightly to his chest, I was still somehow freefalling. I fell through the sky, through the clouds, I was spinning and rushing toward the ground, and the impact was going to kill me, I could feel it in my stomach. 

I was a crashing plane.

How could he love me NOW?! How could he say that NOW?!

I wanted to be angry, I really tried to be. But all I felt was love. Relief. Happiness.

Our story wasn't over. I knew that for sure.

The next night, we agreed to hang out after he got done going out with his friends. Before going to see him, Dave took me to the movies. We decided to see Crazy Stupid Love, thinking it was a funny, sweet RomCom that would provide some mindless entertainment and a few laughs. Just what I needed. 

It was not!

It was a two hour long kick in the emotional testicles, with a few funny moments thrown in there. But not even the happy kind of funny. They were the painful kind of funny that you only laugh at if you too have had your heart ripped out in some terrible way.

What touched me the most about the movie, was that Steve Carrel's character was divorcing his wife for cheating on him. Well, she had asked for the divorce because their marriage was beginning to feel like a sham, and she had cheated on him because of that.

And he was going to just let her go. 

Even though he loved her with all his heart.

Even though she was his soulmate.

He wasn't going to fight for her, or for their love at all.

His 13 year old son ended up being the one who reminded him that when you love someone, you don't give up. Love doesn't run. It doesn't back down from a fight and if you're meant to be with someone, Goddamn it you don't stop trying until you draw your last breath.

I sat there staring at the big screen with tears rolling down my face.

Bill said he loved me.

Then why didn't he fight for me?

After the movie, I practically ran out of the theater. I rushed to the car, sped home, showered and dressed, and headed for Bill's house. 

The whole way there I kept telling myself "when you see him, you'll know what to do"

It's sort of my motto.

I got to his house, rang the bell, and stood there shaking waiting for him to come to the door.

When you see him, you'll know what to do...

His dog ran up to the window. I heard music playing.

When you see him, you'll know what to do...

I could hear him coming to the door.

When you see him, you'll know what do....

The door pulled open, and there he was. He pushed the security door open for me and I tentatively stepped inside.

When I saw him, I knew what to do.

I threw myself against him, wrapped my arms around his neck, and kissed him.

I didn't stop kissing him. I couldn't stop kissing him.

When I saw him, I knew what to do.

Part 8, LAST CHAPTER I PROMISE, tomorrow! :)

Our Love Story: Part Six

There are five other parts to this story. Hence this being called part six. Go read them.

After seeing Bill on my birthday, and getting that birthday cake from him that he HANDWROTE Happy Birthday Sarah on in icing, I was so lost. I wanted to move on. He still hadn't told me he loved me. I needed to move on. I had told him no more chances. It was time to move on!

And there was Neil, who I genuinely liked a lot, and really felt like I might be falling in love with. I know now that I was falling in love with the way he was treating me, not who he was. What I did to him was wrong, and I hope he knows, wherever he is, that for that I am truly, truly sorry.

The weekend after my birthday, Meghan and I went to San Diego to see Neil. His sub was coming into port there for four days, and he wanted to see me. So, armed with beef jerky and a shitload of mixed CD's, Meghan and I drove 5 hours to see the guy who had been romancing me via the internet for 17 days. 

When we arrived at the naval base, and I saw Neil in person for the first time in 10 years, for a split second I wanted to throw the car in reverse and drive away. Not because of him, but because I felt like a teenager who had snuck out of her house. I needed to go home before something bad happened. I needed to go tell Bill where I was and what I'd done and I needed him to hold me. I didn't. I got out of the car and hugged Neil. I hoped he couldn't hear me screaming inside my head.

When we got to our hotel that night, he asked me to marry him.

I said yes.

The time we spent together was fun. I had an amazing time. We laughed, we joked and played, we napped. We went to the San Diego zoo, we saw the Nekromantix live, we watched Pee Wee Hurman. But on Saturday evening, as we were eating frozen yogurt and talking about what we were planning to do about our budding relationship, I got a text from Bill that stopped me midsentence. It was simple. In fact it said only this:

"I hope you're having fun in San Diego! We should catch up soon when you get back."

Oh Holy Mother of God. I had not told Bill I was going to San Diego. Neil had posted a picture of the two of us at the zoo on facebook. Bill had seen it. Bill wanted to catch up. Which meant he wanted to talk. Which meant he was hurt. I hurt him.

The rest of that night passed in a booze filled blur. I woke up the next morning and quickly explained to Neil that I needed to go to Starbucks now and I needed to go with Meghan, and he was not invited. I dressed, rushed downstairs and banged on Meghan's hotel room door. 

"Starbucks. Now." I told her, and ran to the car. 

After we got our coffee, we sat outside the Starbucks and I spilled my heart and soul on the table about Bill. I missed him. But I was so mad at him! He let me go, how dare he text me while I was in San Diego, trying to move on, LIKE HE WANTED ME TO, and tell me so clearly {in code} that he was hurting and upset?! 

HOW DARE HE?!

And how dare I be sitting here thinking that Neil was awesome, but if Bill showed up right then, and said 'Come on, get in the car and let me take you home', I would have gotten in. So. Fast. 

I hated myself for what I was thinking, I hated Bill for what he was doing {what was he even doing? Ugh. I was so irrational} and I hated the world for not giving me a sign, for not telling me what to do.

And then it did.

Holy shit. Our story is a long and complicated one to tell. Stay with me folks! Stay tuned {please} for Part Seven tomorrow, which {I hope!} will be the final chapter.

Our Love Story: Part Five

Do I really need to tell you to go read parts 1-4 before you read part 5? 

I hope not.

So, here we are in Part Five, and Bill and I are broken up again.

I know what you must be thinking: "These two are so fucked up, why the fuck do they keep getting back together?"

Let me tell you why-at least why I stuck around for so long.

Despite all the drama over trying to figure out what roles we would/should/could play in each other's lives, when we were together, we were the whole world. I don't mean just each other's whole world, I mean we were the whole world. We laughed at the shit we wanted to laugh at, we did what sounded good to us, we made terrible jokes, we made fun of each other, made fun of strangers {quietly}

We saw the world in our own way, and we made up our own rules for whatever we wanted. I remember walking through the grocery store with him one night, totally sober, looking for tea, laughing hysterically. I mean, we were walking around holding hands with the biggest, stupidest smiles on our faces. We made each other truly happy. We cared about each other. We made sense to each other.

Bill was the calm, quiet center of my crazy world. 

And he meant everything to me.

It was a million little tiny things that made me love him. The fact that he bought the tea I liked to drink in the morning, and kept it in the fridge on Saturday night. The fact that he designated one of his t-shirts as my night shirt when I stayed over there. The way that before we got out of the car to go into a restaurant he leaned across the center console, looked at me with his serious face, and motioned for me to come closer, then he'd kiss me. The way he didn't care that I went crazy at concerts, or that I was really loud when I drank, or that my hair looked like two raccoons mated in it when I woke up in the morning. It was the way he looked at me, the way he kissed me, the way he smelled, the way he tasted and the way being with him made me feel sane.

I loved him for a million reasons.

But we didn't have an easy path.

After we broke up again on July 25th, I was devastated, but I was determined to move on. I was not going to wait around, I was not going to keep sleeping with him, I was not going to mourn our relationship forever.

I was going to move on.

And boy did I try.

Randomly, I reconnected with a guy that I had gone to high school with on Facebook. Neil Klemetsrud. If you've ever  read my blog before, you know who Neil is.

We started talking on Facebook and at first it was totally innocent. 

Hey, what's up, how you been, long time no see, blah blah blah, catching up shit.

But we got along well. Really well. We started talking all the time. I thought we were forming a fast friendship. We weren't. 

The day that Bill and I broke up, Neil told me he liked me. He had started developing strong feelings for me, and as crazy as it was he wanted to be with me. He wanted me to choose him.

I could feel my heart disintegrating inside my chest. I had no words.

But Neil was nice. He was warm, he was affectionate, he was expressive and flattering and he spent a lot of time being quite charming.

He texted me all day long, he called me every single night. He told me I was beautiful so many times it embarrassed me.

It was like getting water for the first time after two weeks in a desert. 

I fell for him. Quickly. Irrationally. Without warning,  without thinking, and without knowing enough about him to say that what I was feeling was sincere. 

It was wrong, but I was hurt and bleeding, and he bandaged me up and carried me home. I was in love with the idea of him. 

But I wanted him to be somebody else.

I wanted him to be Bill.

While all of this was going on, Bill and I really weren't speaking much, if at all. I know we texted once or twice here and there, but we didn't have one single real conversation that I can remember. I missed him. I missed him like I would miss my right hand if you cut it off. I kept reaching for him, turning to smile at him, opening my mouth to say something to him, then remembering he was gone. And the phantom pains wouldn't go away.

When my birthday rolled around, I texted Bill to say I missed him. My birthday was coming up and I wanted him to come out for drinks with me and Dave, Meghan and Samus, like he did every year. I should've seen it coming, but when he said no it was like he had broken up with me all over again. He never missed my birthday. It was really over. I knew it.

Why did I still miss him?! Everyone said it would go away. I kept waiting for them to be right.

My birthday celebration arrived. He didn't come. I didn't want anyone to know I was sad, so I drank until I couldn't feel my face and I could hear my pulse beating in my ears, then made Dave get me nachos and take me home, where I cried myself to sleep with cheese on my face.

God.

On Monday, the actual day of my birthday, Bill said he would meet me for a birthday drink, and I am embarrassed to admit to how excited I was. 

I met him at Garcia's, and I was running late, of course. I walked in, and felt awkward looking around for him, but when I turned and saw him sitting at a little table by the bar, I remembered our first date so clearly it almost brought me to my knees. 

He was wearing blue. He looked so handsome. He was smiling at me. God I missed him.

We hugged quickly, and I sat down.

After a beer and a shot of Tequila, we started talking about us. I skirted the issue on telling him about Neil, because even though I didn't think it would hurt him to know I'd moved on, I knew it would hurt me to tell him I'd moved on, because in that moment I wished I hadn't. 

Well, I wished I didn't have to.

We talked for a while, and we laughed and I drank and tried to stop looking at his mouth. If I had any more Tequila I was going to kiss him.

Before we left, he told me "I just want to always matter to you, because you will always matter to me." I tried not to show it on my face, but those words lit me up inside. It was the closest he'd ever come to saying he loved me.

And then, he gave me the first birthday cake I had gotten in 10 years. 

If that's not love, I just don't know what is.

Yep. This is a doozy. Stay tuned for Part Six!

Our Love Story: Part Four

If you haven't read parts one two and three, go read them. Now. I'll wait. 

You done? K good.

When we last left off, Bill had texted me and asked if he could come over and talk to me for a minute. At like 8 o'clock at night. On a Tuesday. Something that was pretty much unheard of for him. 

I was pacing around, freaking out, letting my head fill up with thoughts of doom and sadness. He was going to tell me he hated me, he was going to say he never wanted to see me again, blah blah blah.

He arrived, we went outside and sat on the trunk of the car, and after doing his best to explain why he had never let himself entertain the idea of us being together before, he said exactly this:

"I do like you, I do have feelings for you, I have for a long time, and I do wanna be with you. I wanna make a real go of it and give us a chance."

In that moment, my heart caught fire. I was so excited. He wanted to be with me! It was exactly what I wanted to hear.

Well, actually, what I wanted to hear was that he was sorry for almost letting me go. He was sorry it took him so long to see that we were right for each other, and I wanted to hear him say he loved me.

He didn't.

But in that moment I was so excited, I didn't think about that. All I heard was him saying he wanted to be with me.

We kissed, we went to Wendy's and ate Frosties, we sat in his car and talked and laughed and it was like we were us again. I was back where I belonged. 

I burst through the front door and told my roommate Bill and I were together. Finally. At last. He squealed a bit and jumped up and down with me, and I felt like the luckiest girl in the whole world.

For the next day or two, I was walking on air.

I imagined us finally being together for real this time. I imagined him missing me, and falling in love with me, and making me a real part of his life, not just his Saturday night entertainment. I had never met his family or any of his friends and I had only met his kids a couple times. I thought all of that would change, and I spent entire days dreaming about what our life would be like together. 

And for a while, things were different. We talked more {and by talked I mean he texted me more}, we took a weekend trip to Vegas, which we'd talked about for a long time, he said he missed me, even if he only said it occasionally.

But something was wrong. 

He didn't love me, I know now that's what it was, but at the time, all I knew was something was missing.

I wasn't happy.

I wasn't satisfied with what he was giving me, and I hated myself for constantly wanting more. I could see it frustrated him when I'd ask for more time with him, when I complained that he never called me, when I mentioned that I still hadn't met his parents or his family or friends or anyone in his life. I felt guilty. 

I felt bad and selfish for wanting these things because he seemed to be trying so hard. Why couldn't I just be happy with the way things were? We were finally together, why wasn't that enough?

At the end of June, almost two months after we started dating again, I went on a 10 day trip with Dave and my kids to Illinois and Michigan. Something we'd been planning all Spring. We wanted to take the kids out of the state for the first time and Dave's hometown was like Mayberry. They would have so much fun in the country! 

But it meant not seeing Bill for a long, long time. 

He had his kids during the Summer, they had trips planned, he had two business trips coming up, and when we totaled it up, between my trip and his, we weren't going to see each other for 28 days.

Holy. Shit.

I was sad, but he didn't seem to really care, which bothered me endlessly. Now, whether or not he did care, who knows. But he didn't show much emotion about things, and he's the kind of guy who looks for the silver lining in a mushroom cloud, and that optimism sometimes can be confused by others as him not missing you or not caring that you're gone.

I left for Illinois feeling hurt, neglected and unwanted. While I was gone, I heard from him less and less. His texts got shorter and shorter, and I would sometimes go all day without texting him to see if he'd notice. He didn't seem to. I tried calling him, he rarely answered and never called me back. We talked on the phone all of one time while I was away. One. Time.

We'd been arguing before I left, and while I thought it was just growing pains as we adjusted to being a real couple, he felt like it was something much more. To him it meant things just weren't working. Which they probably weren't, I was just too determined/stubborn/in love to face that. 

I remember the one conversation we had while I was in Illinois, I told him I wanted to be with someone that was crazy about me, that adored me, and I felt I deserved that. He said he didn't know what more I wanted, he was trying his hardest, he really cared about me, etc. 

He never once said he was crazy about me.

It was all I wanted to hear.

I hung up the phone feeling so hurt and defeated. I wanted to break up. I wanted to scream in his face. I wanted to run and hide. I wanted to just stop answering his calls and texts to see if he'd even look for me.

Instead I decided that when I got back and I saw him, I'd know what to do.

I got back in town just as he was leaving town. I still didn't know what to do. I missed him. I loved him. I was floundering.

I couldn't talk to him about it. Getting him on the phone was nearly impossible, and I always felt like he just got mad when I tried to talk about how I felt. I said nothing. It helped no one.

I don't remember ever feeling so completely alone.

Finally, after a month apart, he came back into town, and Saturday rolled around. It was time to finally see each other.

On the drive over to his house, I wanted so badly to feel excited. To be happy. But I just wasn't. I was filled with anger and loss and a weird sense of dread. I didn't know what to do or what to say or how to act around him. It was like I hadn't seen him in years. 

We had planned that night to go to the Drive In movie, which is one of my absolute favorite things about Arizona. You can go to the drive in all year round, but if you go at just the right time of year, it's heavenly.

The whole ride to the drive in, I felt uncomfortable, sensitive and I could feel some kind of darkness coming off of him like heat. I wanted to cry.

When we pulled in, I made some joke about something, and in return he made an off color joke about me talking about my feelings too much, and I. Just. Lost it. 

How dare he criticize me for having feelings?! How DARE he complain?! If only he knew how much I DIDN'T say to him! I had a huge internal scream fest in my head, and then started to cry, because that's what I do when I'm too angry to find words. 

When we parked I tried to explain why I was upset, but I just ended up blurting out a bunch of emotional, nonsensical bullshit that didn't make my point and didn't make sense, and got us nowhere, until he interrupted me and told me I was "Totally fucking overreacting"

Ouch.

Bill never spoke to me that way before. Ever.

We should've left then but instead we stayed, and watched an entire movie about friends with benefits, in stony silence.

I didn't spend the night that night.

I tried, but I just couldn't feel at home there anymore.

I got up and drove myself home. I cried the entire way.

The next day we didn't talk at all. Not. At. All.

On Monday morning I texted him to say good morning, and that I was sorry.

He wrote back and asked me to meet him at my house. We needed to talk.

I knew what he was going to do.

I drove to my house with shaking hands. 

I sat on the trunk of the car and waited, just like I did when he said he wanted to be with me.

He pulled up, sat beside me, and said he needed to end it.

He explained it wasn't working out, and he said over and over {so many times I wanted to punch him} that he just wasn't in love.

He didn't love me.

He wasn't in love.

I got it.

I told him ok, if he wanted to leave he could leave, but he could never come back. We could be friends, but if he walked away now he was walking away from our relationship as anything more than friends, forever. 

I said "Even if you wake up tomorrow and realize you want to spend the rest of your life with me, you can't ever tell me." 

He agreed.

I died inside.

He drove away.

I started drinking in the middle of the day.

So I know I said this was a four parter, but it's not. Stay tuned for Part Five, tomorrow!

Our Love Story: Part Three

If you haven't yet, you need to read Part One and Part Two of our love story, before you read this.

When we last left off, Bill and I had broken up. It was sad, and to be perfectly honest I was pretty crushed. I liked Bill a lot, and in the 3 months we'd dated, I had started to fall in love with him.

In fact, I remember the first time I heard myself say in my head that I loved him. It was April, and we'd been dating for a little over a month. I had tickets to see Airborne Toxic Event, one of my absolute favorite bands. Dave was supposed to go with me, but we had gotten in a fight over something so stupid I don't even remember it, a week before the show. I had bought both tickets, so I had an extra and I had a boyfriend, so naturally I had a date. 

The night of the concert, Bill got a headache. I know that sounds like nothing to any of you, but Bill and I don't just get headaches. We get Migraines. Yes, that word should be capitalized, because Migraines are a fucking force to be reckoned with. They suck ass, and I know first hand just how bad they can be. When Bill said he had a headache, I was totally willing to let him off the hook about going to the show, and just go by myself, because there was no way I would subject him to being in a crowded bar with a borderline migraine.

But he went anyway.

That probably sounds like no big deal to some of you, but to me, that was huge. He said he knew how much I'd been looking forward to the show, and he missed me, and he wouldn't miss it for the world. And he didn't. It quite literally melted my heart.

We got to the venue, and it was just what I expected: Super crowded, small, and extremely hot. I felt so bad for Bill, and I told him if he wanted to leave, we could at any time. He smiled, ordered us both drinks and said we'd have a good time.

Awwwww.

The band started up, and I was instantly into it. I was standing in front of Bill because there was just no room to stand beside him, and he was behind me with his hands on my waist while I danced and cheered and screamed like a crazy person. I was pouring sweat, my hair was flying all over the place {whatever hair wasn't stuck to my forehead with sweat, that is} and I'm sure I looked insane. I turned back at one point to look at Bill, and he was standing there, holding onto me, smiling.

I know his head hurt, I know he didn't know any of the songs {he'd never heard of the band before that night} and I'm sure he was uncomfortable, but he was smiling. So big, and so warm, and right at me while I danced and screamed myself hoarse.

It was like a movie. Shit literally slowed way down, and Bill was all I could see. I heard myself {my heart?} say in my head "God I love him". And even hearing myself think those words didn't scare me. It made me feel happy, and even more in love. 

So given all that, when we broke up on June 6th, I was crushed. I wanted to remain friends with him more than anything, and he agreed saying he cared about me, and wanted to be friends too.

Well, we stayed friends alright.

Starting that summer, we embarked on a two year long journey of being "complicated". Before you think that I call it complicated because of that stupid Facebook relationship status, let me clarify for you: It was complicated because I loved Bill, with all of my heart, and he did not {or did but just denied} love me back. It was complicated because he was hurting, still very very wounded from surviving a 13 year relationship with someone who didn't care about him, someone who wanted to change him rather than accept, love and understand him. It was complicated because I knew that our weird status of being somewhere between a couple and friends wasn't enough for me, I knew it hurt me, but I loved him so much {and so tragically} that I couldn't walk away from it no matter how much I knew that it wasn't enough. I stayed. I slept with him. For a long time I didn't even go on dates with anyone else. I waited. And things got more and more complicated.

Bill wasn't the bad guy, in case that's how it's coming across. He made it clear that he cared about me, but that a relationship wasn't what he was able to give me at that point. He said he didn't return my feelings. I stuck around anyway. I didn't just tolerate, I persued it. Being "just friends" just wasn't good enough. Even though it wasn't everything I needed from him, what we had seemed closer than nothing.

But, we spent too much time together. We had a routine, we spent every single Saturday night together, like a couple does, we spent most of our free time together, like a couple does, we had lunch together during the week, like a couple does, and neither of us had pursued relationships with other people, like a couple does.

And I could be hallucinating this, but it seemed like he started, over time, becoming more affectionate, more endearing, and more attached. 

I have a vagina. That pretty much means I read into everything. All the time.

When Bill and I were together, I was inexplicably happy. I felt so completely at peace in his presence, it was intoxicating. When nothing in my life made sense, Bill made sense. Always. When we were together, we laughed and laughed, sometimes until tears flowed. We liked the same music, so I made mixed CD's for him. We liked to same movies, we laughed at the same shit, we made fun of the same people in public, and being together felt so comfortable, so Goddamn right, it sometimes made me angry that we weren't together.

And for two years, we drifted and bobbed around in each other's lives like lost boats, occasionally coming close enough to touch oars, or to hear the scrape as our sides bumped into each other, but we always drifted away again. 

Bill went on dates with a few other people.

I went on a couple dates with one other person.

I waited.

He told me not to.

I did anyway.

It helped no one.

Every few months I would become terribly sad. I would cry on my roommate's shoulder about how much I loved him, and how he seemed to care about me so much, and really really like me, but he didn't want to be with me. I just didn't understand. Really, sometimes to this day I still don't.

I would tell Bill I wanted more, he would tell me he had no more to give, I would say I was leaving, he would tell me he wanted me to be happy, I would cry, and the next Saturday, I'd come to his house again.

But nothing ever changed.

Finally, at the end of April, 2011, I laid it all on the line. 

I told Bill I couldn't do it anymore, and I wanted some space from him to figure out what I was going to do in terms of us. It was time. I needed to be with him, or be away from him long enough to get over him.

We didn't talk for a day.

Then two.

Then three.

By the fourth day, I was out of my mind.

I asked him to meet me so we could talk, I was done waiting. If he still didn't know what he wanted, or if he still didn't want me, then it needed to be over.

We sat in a parking lot in the car, and went in circles again. Finally, I said it as simply as I could: "Do you want to be with me like I want to be with you, or not?"

He said no.

I held back tears.

He said it was time to end it.

I agreed.

He got out of the car, and I refused to cry.

That night I got drunker than I have been since I was 19. I cried, I listened to Joni Mitchele, I texted Bill. He was so nice , he was so supportive and understanding. It made me cry harder and sing louder and drink more.

It helped no one.

For almost a week, we didn't talk.

When I finally started talking to him again, I was so mad at him. I was angry, I was hurt, I was sad and confused and I missed him. Again, he understood. He was there for me. I tried to ignore him again, but I just couldn't. 

Then, on May 3rd, something magical happened. 

I was having dinner with my kids and my roommate when I got a text from Bill asking if he could come over and talk for a bit. This was huge. Bill never came over on weeknights. He never wanted to have face to face conversations, and he rarely, if ever had anything important he wanted to say to me.

With my heart jack-hammering in my chest,  as nonchalantly as I could, I said "sure" and instantly had the biggest panic attack of my life.

For 25 minutes, TWENTY FIVE MINUTES, I waited for him to show up, pacing around in front of the door. 

What could he have to say?

Did he hate me?

Did he not want to be friends?

Did he never want to see me again?

It never crossed my mind that he might have something good to say. I mean, he never had before. Why would he now?

When he finally got to my house, I grabbed a pack of cigarettes and walked outside like I could totally care less about why he was there. We sat on the trunk of the car, and he said he wanted to be with me.

And now you have to wait until tomorrow to find out what I said back :)

Suckerrrrrrs.

Our Love Story: Part Two

Before you read this, you should read Part One, if you haven't already.

As I stood there, at 1 in the morning, leaning up against Bill's car, completely lost in his kiss, my head began to spin. 

I liked this guy. 

I really liked this guy.

He was funny, he was sweet, he was charming and a gentleman, and he was considerate, and oh dear God he was handsome. 

And his kiss......*sigh*

I was a little tipsy, and I had an idea what Bill might be thinking, given how we were now kissing, what time it was, and how many drinks we'd both had. I quickly tried to decide if I would go home with him or not if he asked me. Let's get one thing straight, I am not a slut, I am not easy, but I am also my own person. In the past, if it felt right, I went with the moment. I didn't want to do that this time, even though it felt so so right. I wanted Bill to like me, and even more, I wanted him to respect me. 

I decided if he asked, I would not go home with him.

He asked.

I went home by myself.

The next day when I woke up, Bill was the first thing I thought about. His kiss, his smile, his eyes, his everything. 

I was beaming. 

As awesome as our first date was, and as well as we got along, and as crazy as I was about him, I want to tell you that we fell easily into a happy relationship, and fell madly in love with each other. But I warned you in the beginning, a lot of this story isn't very romantic. It's real.

Bill was separated, not divorced yet, and he was in the midst of an ugly, ugly divorce and custody battle with his ex-wife. Add to that the fact that he owned one {if not two} business at the time, that he was struggling to keep afloat in a shitty economy,  AND the fact that I had two babies of my own, it's needless to say that we had very little time for each other. And by very little, I mean, like almost none. At one point we didn't see each other for 3 straight weeks, and we had already decided we were a couple. We were officially together. 

It was hard. 

I wanted a lot more time with him. I mean, shit I at least wanted to see him once a week, but he just didn't have the time to give, nor {which I found out much later} the energy, emotionally or physically. It was sad. I missed him all the time, he felt frustrated and inadequate all the time. It helped no one, and eventually, after only 3 months together, we broke up. 

I remember crying myself to sleep, and thinking "If we had more time together he would realize how awesome we could be together, and he would make more time for us." It was nonsensical, it was sad, and it was severely misguided. I thought I knew the whole story about what Bill's life was like, and I thought my expectations were completely reasonable.

I found out much later that in fact, I didn't know shit.

Our Love Story: Part One

The story of us is a long one, and it started long ago.

It isn't always the most romantic story, and there probably aren't a lot of people that would say

"Oh I wish I could have a love story like that!" 

But it is ours.

It's our journey, and it's how we got where we are now, and where I hope we go in the future.

This is the story of us.

Our love story.

Bill and I met on March 14th 2009, if you count the day we met in person as the day we met. As unromantic as it probably sounds, we met online, on a website called Plenty of Fish. Classy, I know, but hey, I met one of my exboyfriends on MySpace, so I guess you just never know where love might find you. 

I wasn't really interested in dating. The Jedi was just a baby, not even a year old yet and I was still sort of reeling from my breakup with his dad, even though it had been almost a year before I met Bill. My cousins Lindsay and Danielle both had profiles on Plenty of Fish (and yes, I sometimes wonder if either of them had ever talked to him online before I met him) and they convinced me to make one, sighting reasons like "You can't be single forever." and "It's fun, if you like someone, have coffee, if you don't just see what's out there, make friends, have a life, blah blah blah"

After a little pressuring, I made a profile that I did not take seriously in any way shape of form.

I listed going to a roller disco as my top date idea, and I had a list of 10 reasons why someone should date me, which included things like "I won't steal Vicodan out of your medicine cabinet" and "I don't hear voices in my head."

A couple weeks went by, and I got messages from mostly creepers. I would sit up at night and read the awesomely spaztastic shit that guys would send me that they considered serious attempts to meet a lady. Things like calling me baby in their introductory email, asking if I was an angel cuz my smile was Heavenly (I swear to God) and even telling me that they heard voices in their head, but they all said I was beautiful.

Sigh.

I went on a date with a guy who was so thoroughly creepy, he actually asked me ON OUR FIRST DATE if I could see myself falling in love with him.

Ack!

It wasn't looking promising.

And then one night, I logged on and there was a message waiting for me from a guy with a very normal profile picture. Not shirtless, not posing with drunk blondes in a bar, and there was no photos of his car anywhere on his profile. Holy shit, could he be....normal?! Not socially retarded! ZOMG!

I don't remember what his message said, which to this day irritates me, but I remember it was funny, it was charming, and it actually made me laugh out loud. I was intrigued. I looked at his profile, and that was awesome too! He actually listed how sarcastic he was and that he loved ice cream on his DATING profile! 

Winning.

And y'all, he was H-O-T. I mean, seriously, old movie style handsome. Handsome in a way that you just don't see these days outside of movies like Casa Blanca and The Way We Were. I was pretty smitten, basically right off. 

There was an age difference of 17 years, which bothered me none, but when I told my cousin Lindsay, her exact words were "Sarah, holy shit, he was having sex when you were BORN." I didn't see why that mattered. Annnnnnd he was separated, not divorced, which at first was a little off putting to me, but he assured me his divorce was just around the corner and they'd been split up for quite some time. 

None of it mattered. I had to meet him. 

We agreed to meet on a Saturday night in Tempe for drinks around 9 and see where things went. Of course, this being a story involving me, something had to go terribly wrong. I locked my keys in the car at a gas station, and ended up being TWO HOURS late. But Bill, being the awesome guy he is, agreed to wait, and still met up with me at 11 o'clock.

We met in downtown Tempe, around Mill avenue, and I had parked in a parking garage and starting wondering around, lost, like I do. Bill and I were on the phone, trying to find each other, when I turned around and he was pulling up right behind me. He rolled his window down, leaned over and smiled at me.

Now, I've never been a believer in love at first sight, but that one moment, that first smile, changed something for me. As soon as I saw it, even though I can't say I was in love, I can easily say I have never seen a mouth that I more wanted to kiss in my entire life.

It was magical.

{Queue dove release now}

For a first date, we really couldn't have gotten more unclassy. I was in shorts and a tank top, he was dressed super casual {not his fault, he was sweet enough to coordinate outfits with me prior to meeting. I know, what a guy, right??} We ended up going to Macayos, having enough beer to get me buzzed, then walking to Hooters.

I know. For shame.

But it was fun!

I don't think I had ever laughed so much on a first date in my entire life. He was hilarious! He was charming, and disarming and so down to Earth it was obscene. Our conversation flowed easily, our eye contact was intense and our silence was inexplicably comfortable. And I was just dying to kiss him.

After Hooters, where I got a little more unclassy {read: drunk}we walked back to his car in the Macayo's parking lot, and this is where shit gets real.

He went to my side of the car like he was going to open the door for me, but when I went to get in, he grabbed me and spun me around to face him. Before I could say Hey, his lips were on mine, and I was knee deep in our very. first. kiss.

And as kisses go, it was, in a word, delicious.

Stay tuned for Part Two of our tale of two love birds, tomorrow!

Absolution

As painful as it was

As much as it ripped our hearts out

As much it was vulnerable

Ugly

Embarrassing

Shameful 

And hard

I've never felt closer to you

I've never been more willing to begin again

To try harder

To be committed 

To work through it

To be only yours.

I've never felt more in love

I've never felt more accepted and understood

I've never felt more able to tell you anything

And open up to you even at my darkest.

I've never valued you more

I've never treasured us more deeply.

I love you more than my mouth can say

I love you more than my arms can hold

I love you more than my mind can bear

I love you more than there are hours in the day.

I love you like there's no tomorrow, 

And I would walk through fire to show you how sorry I am.

We've been through darkness

We've been through Hell

We've bled and we've cried and we've screamed and we've broke each other's hearts

But we're here and we're trying and I'm not giving up.

This is a new day

This is a new promise

This is a new beginning

And I've never loved you more.

Atonement

"We cannot tear out one single page of our lives, but we can throw the whole book in the fire."

 -George Sand

Heaven bent to take my hand
And lead me through the fire
To the long awaited answer
To a long and painful fight.

But somewhere along the way,
I got caught up in all there was to offer
And the cost was so much more than I could bear.

Though I've tried,
I've fallen, I have sunk so low
I messed up
Better I should know
So you can come around here and tell me I told you so.

We all begin with good intent
Love was raw young
I believed that I could change myself
The past could be undone
But we carry on our backs the burden
Time always reveals
In the lonely light of morning
In the wound that WOULD NOT heal
The bitter taste of losing everything I'd held so dear.

Heaven, bend to take my hand
I have nowhere left to turn
I'm lost to those I thought were friends
To everyone I know
They turn their heads embarrassed, pretend that they don't see.

But it's one misstep, one slip before you know it.

And there doesn't seem a way to be redeemed....