Let’s try something different. Let’s write through the bad times this time, shall we? Instead of what I usually do, which is hide under a rock.
Where do I begin to explain how horrible people are?
For whatever reason, I was remembering a huge fight I got into with a former long-time (abusive) boyfriend. Even though he left 8 years ago, I find I am still dealing with the memory of the trauma he put me through…he manipulated the very way I viewed myself, things I formerly believed to be true or untrue about me became things I questioned.
I must apologize for my inconsistency. I think the fact that the weather has been a bit warmer has led to my becoming a bit less reclusive and I have admittedly been outdoors working in the garden (READ: getting eaten alive by mosquitoes, drowning myself in DEET and THEN there was the poison ivy–good grief, I felt as though I looked like a leper there for awhile).
I shall continue on with my “Il Postino” tale now. 😉
After The Humanoids’ reunion show at Great Scott, I still continued to see my friend Josh; postally, of course. We would often times discuss horror movies (Turned out that he was a HUGE horror movie fan, JUST LIKE ME. Imagine my joy at finding a kindred spirit!), The Walking Dead, music and other random stuff. Occasionally, if I was mailing cookies to someone, I would save some out to give to him.
We would message one another on occasion; I found out that he had the same kind of horrible, bloody, zombie/demon-filled nightmares that I had always had. Oftentimes, we would share our ‘nightmares.’ (Or dreams, as I have always called them–mostly because they happened so often for me that I just assumed they were merely dreams. Not nightmares.)
Actually, one day I should write about some of my nightmares–I’ve been told they are more horrifying than most anything “regular” people can think up.
But, I digress…
At one point, I began a long-distance relationship with a man whom I had briefly dated before, when I lived in Texas. He was very kind and loving and loved to spoil me. By all points and purposes I would have found a way to be happy with him…and eventually, I told myself, I was going to be happy with him.
Josh, not knowing that my boyfriend at the time was living in Texas, invited me and said boyfriend to join him and his wife for drinks one evening, and it was then that I had to explain my long-distance situation.
QUICK TANGENT–When you are in a long-distance relationship, and you explain it aloud (or in print) to someone, you realize: “Boy. This sounds REALLY fucking stupid. Like, a waste of my time stupid.”
In hindsight, I wanted to become settled with someone, and at that point, I had given up on “Mister Right,” “Prince Charming,” “THE One,” or whatever you want to call that mythical person with whom you are supposed to fall madly in love with. I had, quite honestly, decided that the phrase “there is someone for everyone” was pure and simple BULLSHIT. I decided that all of that ‘destiny’ crap didn’t exist and that it was okay to not love everything about any one person.
I found a man who was good and kind, dedicated to his job and his hobbies, who wanted to care for me and spoil me. Someone who promised me that I likely wouldn’t have to work again; just take care of the house, make art and jewelry, and maybe have a couple of kids.
I discussed my relationship and current boyfriend with my friend, Josh, although I NEVER voiced to him any of the myriad of doubts I was having about picking up and moving from Boston back to Texas to become (what I assumed I was on track to becoming) an eventual trophy wife.
I hated the idea, actually.
I was TERRIFIED of moving that far, once again.
My unconscious mind told me that I wasn’t going to do it.
My CONSCIOUS mind, however, took it’s sweet time coming to that realization.
Josh and I would also complain to one another about how dreadfully awful it is to work in Brookline, Massachusetts; home to every old, crazed, cheap, skinflint fuck that has more money than GOD. Oftentimes, we would joke about all of the “corpses” in Brookline.
In fact, one of my favorite messages I ever received from Josh on the subject was: “Um, did you ever notice that the burial ground from Poltergeist was based on a true story? Yeah, the whole town of Brookline. Haha. I know, not that amusing, but totally true.”
Among other topics of discussion were Josh’s sickly dog (who is now-a-days a ‘regular dog’), his band, how I hate driving and yet double-hate the MBTA, Josh’s bff moving back to Boston and etc, etc.
By the spring of 2012, I hadn’t heard a heckuva lot out of Josh, but I chalked it up to being busy with life in general. I know I was busy attending multiple weddings that spring and beginning to plan (UGHHH) an eventual move back to Texas. I saw Josh a couple of times at the post office and we exchanged pleasantries, but didn’t really have any in-depth conversation. At this point, I just figured that it was for the best.
He had his life and I had mine.
And the two didn’t intersect.
And, sad as that was, even though we got along VERY well, I had to accept the fact that our paths just didn’t cross.
One day in early May, I was on my way to work via public transit, perusing social media.
And I saw something that made me very upset.
Josh’s “relationship status” had changed from “married” to “single.”
Of course I was instantly angry at that horseface-giant gum-having hussy he was married to, because my friend Josh was such a good, upstanding guy, I could not imagine him being the perpetrator of the demise of his own marriage.
I sent him a quick message that stated quite simply: “Look. I just saw something online that makes me wonder how you are doing. I don’t know what has happened, but know I am thinking of you. I you want to talk or have a beer or anything, don’t hesitate to let me know. No pressure.”
Josh suggested grabbing a beer the next evening.
I said that I was paying, because if you can’t help a friend out when they’re down, then what good are ya?
The evening of the (aforementioned) Humanoids’ reunion show arrived.
So. It’s been awhile since I’ve felt like writing…I suppose those last two may have done me in a little bit. At least for awhile, anyway. Life happens and then the next thing you know, you haven’t written a word in almost a month and you’re wondering if you really care to do so.
In the hours following the rape, I went through what I now recognize to be classic symptoms of shock. Uncontrollable shaking, the feeling of being extremely cold, so on and so forth.
I would have rather died.
I recall giving a deposition.
Teachers regarded me differently.