Skip to main content

B is for The Point

There isn’t any.

Or like wise old Solomon said, “meaningless, meaningless, everything is meaningless”

I realize I have a problem with letting go. I admit that. A lot of things from times past still rile me up which is testament to the previous statement. Like tonight, I’m having dinner and whether it is because she crossed my mind or some other beguiling reason, I had something of a light-bulb moment:

I was the in-betweener. I was the bridge that gave her safe passage from crappy long term relationship to whatever joy found path she is to walk on. Of course NO ONE gave me the memo so my heart is still locked into this room with questions painted on every wall.

Why wasn’t I given a real chance?
Or rather, why don’t I feel like I was given a fighting chance?
What could I have done differently?
How STUPID could I have been [a simpleton could see…]

I had my hang-ups; things that I thought, if I told her it could wreck us. These were not big things in retrospect but rather Pride things. Or Fear things. I get that now. But there’s a difference in saying to a friend “XYZ” that telling it to the woman you love. Or else think you love. And during the time I was out of the world, it changed. Girls apparently no longer looked for and or needed love – or so they said. Chivalry was dead and the role of the dude was merely entertainment. And who could blame them? What with the Neanderthal nation walking round with credit cards and blackberry mobiles.

It’s like watching early Smallville and you want Clark to tell Lana everything before she gets into a relationship with Lex and he doesn’t and you want to slap him! Just… spill everything.

I worked out my own crap and that was fine. And though it was probably wretched [what with her crying, saying to me that I have made her shed more tears than before or some loveliness along those lines – never mind the ex before me was a walking twat…] it felt promising. The pain I always seem to feel was subsided for just a short time.

And I honestly don’t expect us to go … Ok that’s a lie.
I DO want us together. Or maybe that’s just me being dude-ish. At this point, I can't really tell. Because when we speak I still try to figure out if I’m saying the right thing or even if I should answer the phone at all. I don’t .. know… what to talk about… and ting. Classic.

I was the in-betweener. Funny. My friend says sometimes that’s the role we’re given. We do the best with what God gives us to do. I shake my head. I’ll buy that for a dollar. But I still don’t understand why three years later, I’m STILL wondering –what was the point of THAT exercise. If any.



Popular posts from this blog

B is for Loving Boys

90's boy love - Joey n Chandler....
a moment of randomness between Catharsis videos

There are boys I love. And they love me. And we’re open about it. Just last Saturday I got a text message from one of those boys who said “I love you too man” in response to something I said. My boys are artists, artistes, atheists, and agirl (who is in fact one of the boys so hence the addition to the category) fathers, brothers and high school musicals (Jed and Umar will get that one – lol). We share ideas, music, random nothingness and Brent Worthington . We approve, reprove and listen to each other. I think the girl that I end up with must in fact be like the boys I love. Good looks aside… please… have some substance. One of my boys is appalled that I watched Gossip Girl (if you’re going to bash it… know what it is first) and has for this [and other minor reasons] jokingly labeled me a homosexual. But he who looks like Miley Cyrus with rainbow bandanas should not talk [chuckles]. I love my boys…

Play of the Week WK #6

B is for The Haunting October

--> I first felt it in the shower. Nostalgia. Creeping up my leg and resting on my shoulder. Bony fingers caresses in that sickeningly sweet way nostalgia often does. It was the end of September or the beginning of October... That night in the shower when I remembered an old October, reading poetry at a wine factory; with sandwiches as big as your face. And I remembered two tables. Friends and a girl. And it was October. The sealing of fate. 2008.
Days passed but not before the memory of darkness and a knife. The surgery that changed me... And it was October. October or go to Heaven. 2007.
Time passed and so did my expectations. Fluctuations in blood flow in the head causes heart to flutter for another. Infatuation of the highest order. The beginning of tears and sighs of"it's not fair" and the wandering nature of soul; I'm done, turn me over. And it was October. All my queries I vowed to shelve. 2012.
And Sunday. When I threw the scroll and claimed I was don…