When in doubt, I write. It’s easier than talking and choking on my words. I can send this out to the universe and the right person will read it. Like a note cast out in a glass bottle into the cyber ocean filled with lost souls trying to reach out to one another, I can sleep tonight believing that somebody will find my message and I will no longer be alone with my thoughts, unheard and uncelebrated.
It’s a leap of faith, for sure. It is easier to share with total strangers than burden friends with my many words. The word verbose comes to mind. But, I am not without hope now, which is an improvement over where I was mentally before the breakup.
I have been lonely for a long time now. I broke up with my girlfriend 2 months ago, but I had been lonely for years before the end. She stopped caring and then I stopped trying, so the breakup was simply a formality. The odd thing is I still miss her in some twisted, dysfunctional way. As weird as that sounds, it’s true. Some of the rhythms we had as a couple were comforting. Now, I am making up new rituals and finding my own way, and it’s lonely, but it’s authentic.
The fight we had before we finally broke up, she told me she didn’t love me anymore. The next morning she begged me to stay. I could not run away fast enough. While she was at work, I packed up everything I could in my Toyota Celica and drove 500 miles to Atlanta, my hometown. She’s in Florida, a place I thought I would love after moving there only months earlier with her. It will be a long time before I go to Florida again.
In true lesbian fashion, there was drama at the end. It’s funny how relationships tend to both start and end with drama, or at least mine do. Inches from my face, she screamed….”Get out.” I had forgiven her so many other times when she screamed or yelled, insulting me or complaining about this or that, but I finally got to that point where I could no longer see any love in her eyes, or feel any warmth in her touch, and I knew there was no going back.
I deserve better. I told her several times that “I don’t do mean.” Apparently, she was not listening. A part of me believes that she didn’t believe she deserved me or anybody for that matter. There was a power struggle always. Friends thought we’d get back together, but I knew we never would. I could not remember the last time we had kissed, besides a lifeless peck not worthy of the beautiful sentiment expected in such a sweet gesture.
I love women. I keep trying. Evidently, I am not terribly good at relationships. I have many stories to tell and have been fortunate enough to love many wonderful lesbians. If you lined up all the woman I have loved, it would be hard to understand “my type.”
My lineup of lovers includes tall, short, white, black, younger, older, Christian, Pagan, Jewish, heavy and skinny women. About all they have in common is me. The funny thing is I loved them all with everything I had. Unforeseen things always happened and the love never seemed to be enough in the end.
I am not quite ready to hop on the dating sites. I started to, then I didn’t pay, so I am waiting for something. A sign maybe. For the first time in my life, I feel a bit frightened by the process. I am no longer the fearless, confident woman I was. Something has shifted. People who know me would not believe me if they heard me say that.
Everybody meets online these days. But, I guess I want something more romantic, an organic love affair borne of physical chemistry and a mental connection shared over time, instead of puked out on a dating site like a resume meant to attract attention. Granted, online dating offers expediency, but there is something to be said for seeing her across the room and finding a way to meet her, watching her until you finally have the chance to speak to her.
Until we meet again. Sweet dreams. If I’m lucky, I’ll see you there.
Carpe the wet kiss!
A Wordy Grl