Love

I Had a Great Time With You Last Night…

… so he says.

What if you didn’t? Will you leave?

My heart dipped a little and I cautiously returned his smile with a slight smile, my eyes betraying the turbulence of emotions stewing inside me. I wondered indeed, what if my monsters got the better of me? What if I were not my peppy chipper self? Memories of me splayed on the bathroom floor, in a dingy motel room, in a dark place somewhere, wailing and howling in an attempt to let go of my pain, flooded my mind. It takes a herculean effort to remain poised, tethered and controlled, and unsuspected of being “un-normal.” I’ve worked hard at hiding the parts of myself that winces at every micro-expression and slip and clue that tells me he’s caught on to my act, that I’m a high-functioning imposter barely able to hold it together. That maybe at some point, I will crumble and fall to pieces and he won’t love what he sees.

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Love

A Letter to Someone I Once Loved

Subject Line: Hello, From An Old Friend

Dear K,
 
How have you been? You’ve been in my thoughts lately and I have been wondering about whether I should write you. Mainly because I’m curious about how you are and whether you are well. It must be strange to hear from me six years after we last saw each other. Strange, but oh what the hell. So, how the hell are you?

I suppose if I had to guess at my motive for writing you, it might be that it’s taken me this long to process my feelings about you, the breakup, our years together and make sense of my own thoughts and inclinations. I’ve been known to procrastinate, so I’m sorry this is coming six years late. Or maybe, it is just right on time.

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Love

The Affair

The thing about Colin is, deep down, I knew it wasn’t more than what it was. I needed him and he needed something from me that he wasn’t getting from his “real life.” Typing now from my patio in the San Francisco Bay Area, California, I can’t help but wonder if there’s a little bit of kismet at play here. Colin is a photographer originally from the SF Bay Area and at the time of our affair, he was an expat in Singapore with a successful and beautiful wife and kid in tow. I never really asked why he would stray from his perfect life, but I guess it didn’t matter to me at the time. I was consumed by my own need — and he checked all the boxes.

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Love

I need to tell my story…

Every so often, I return to this blog. It hides my deepest, darkest secrets, but also my true self, my true experiences and my true feelings. Every time I’ve arrived at this place, I’m often desperate and seeking reprieve from my pain. This is the case at this very point in time.

It’s been more than a year since I broke up with K. It’s been one of the most difficult and painful periods of my life. There are moments when I feel so lonely, yet engulfed by memories that constantly creep into my consciousness. The only way I’ve learned to live a normal life is to harden myself against emotions, but every so often, they creep up on me, like maggots, and eat me up inside.

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Love

Taking the Plunge

How do you allow yourself to free fall into love, and possibly disappointment?

If I had to describe what falling in love feels like, I would say that those first days luxuriated in love seem like cool, sunny days at the beach, against a soundtrack by Paulinho Moska. You feel a little light-headed, a little sleepy, as if the warm rays of desire envelope you in a misty air of euphoria, full of hope for the boundless possibilities ahead of you. As the days float by, you inch, hand in hand, with the object of your affection toward the cliff of romance, at which point each of you must decide whether to take the “plunge” into the valley of love and that big scary “C” word — commitment. You must simultaneously decide whether to entrust this person with your most fragile organ — your heart. Because, once you give him the key to your heart, you open yourself to a world of unknowns, a place of possible joy and probable sorrow.

The spell of those first days intoxicates you and holds you captive to the persuasion of mutual attraction and need. You can simultaneously feel like you’re on top of the world and like you’re mired in poverty, deprived of the touch of the other. Encountering this other makes you aware of a deep void within you, a void that could only be filled by this person. Being in that state opens you up to vulnerabilities, which you may otherwise not subject yourself to when you are sober. Love has the ability to turn you into a bumbling fool. I have the unfortunate curse of being a fool when in love.

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Love

The Festering

I think I hate him. I do. I can’t be sure if it’s a pattern of my dysfunctional personality, but I feel a negative feeling toward him. He is crass, he is brute, he treats me like I’m invisible, and that I’m never good enough. I hate him – and once upon a time, I might have cared how he felt, but today, I don’t fucking give a shit.

I’ll freely talk to anyone I want. I’ll do what I want – who gives a fuck what he thinks. It’s not like he gives two hoots about what I think. You think he cares about me? Fuck him. Go to hell. All he cares about is himself. How did it come to this point? I don’t know, and don’t even fucking care anymore. The fact that I am starting to notice other guys is just my bodily reaction to how I’m quickly leaving the relationship and not really caring what the fuck he’s doing anymore.

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Love

Love.

Love is one of those words that changes its meaning throughout the course of your life, and possibly even throughout the course of your day. It’s just that fickle piecing of four letters that one moment can mean so much, and in another, so little. People say romantic love and platonic love are different, but give it enough time, they start to be indistinguishable. Like two blondes after a few drinks. Sometimes, as love runs its course, you may feel like platonic love is more valuable than romantic love. Because, so much significance is tagged onto the semantic field of romantic love. Puppy love, roses, rose-colored glasses, the One, that feeling in your belly. One day, if you wake up and there’s a feeling in your belly, it’s probably something you ate or didn’t eat. That’s all there is to it.

Romantic love, like its famous motif the rose, has an expiration date.

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