Ugh 7 and 1 are not my favorite numbers and for some reason I was up at 3:30am. Sleep and I are lifelong close ass friends so this isn’t usual. I had a relaxing, low key weekend reading at the beach and watching the world go by. Stopped bringing my phone in the morning but can’t leave it @home in the evenings and miss cotton candy clouds.
Labor Day 2017: I found out Jazz had cancer. One day after her surgery (during which I bought my first pack of cigarettes in nearly a decade) Irma changed course yet again and was barreling straight for Tampa Bay. The highways were so clogged no one could leave the state. It just missed us. Surgery bought Jazz 3 more months.
Labor Day 2018: I went online to make my terminally single bestie a dating profile. I looked at what was out there. And I messaged *one* guy. Just one. He looked like a weird amalgam of dork and danger, with the style of a slightly neglected midwest 5th grader on picture day. But he was also hella smart and could write and his eyes were saturated in sadness even when he smiled, which, apparently, is a special kind of kryptonite.
Labor Day 2019: I met him in person, cheated on my long term partner and began a dalliance that lasted 3 seasons. Covert narcissist much? I went back even after I knew what he was. I did my research. I thought I could handle it, or maybe I was delusional enough to imagine I’d change him. Lol..?
I guess that was a lesson I needed to learn. I certainly had no fucking idea people like that were out there. Especially under the guise of a sweet, humble, introverted, unemployed IT nerd with a filthy Prius and enough sob stories (both real and imagined) to fill up 90% of our conversations. I’m a sucker for a lost cause. And he looked at me like I was a goddess. Pisces too, even though I’ve loved 3 of those moody, bi (polar, sexual; both, usually) boys in my life already and the very last thing I needed was another. I’m allowed to say that as I am one.
I swear my fetish is falling for potential. I didn’t quite dive all the way into this one though (thank god) as my spidey sense was going off from jump. Not that I listened hard, to my intuition or my three closest friends. Just enough to hold onto a sliver of detachment; the only thing allowing me to write this a few months after ending it (…) without feeling certifiably insane. I swear, getting out of that situation was like fighting against riptides, during a hurricane, on a starless night. With all of my limbs tied. That’s why this has to be it. I wouldn’t have the strength to leave if it started again. #fuckthatnoise
Labor Day 2020: I think I’m as at peace as I can be at this point in time. No contact with ‘The Eternal Victim‘ for months. Living harmoniously with my ex, who is now seriously dating the friend I made the profile for 2 years ago. I mean…if that’s not coming full circle, I don’t know what.the.fuck is. Recovering from the accident that required 8 surgeries, countless nights of pain and complete and utter restructuring of what I thought life was really about. All in all, I hesitate to say that the worst is over, but it feels like it might be.
Just don’t ask if I have any regrets.