Coping with the heart

This was written a few months ago. I feel much better now, but I think this will make a great first post of the new blog.

I have been heartbroken a few times in my life. There was Jen, who moved away in high school. We were never an item, but I did want to be. I wrote to her fairly often. However, she crushed me when she wrote that she didn’t want to be.

Of course Robyn, my first “real” girlfriend hurt me by being, well, unfaithful. Now, don’t get me wrong, it is one thing to be in an open relationship and have everyone on the same page. It is completely different when you’re catting around, especially sleeping around…a lot. I was a naïve virgin at the time; I couldn’t handle something like that.

That hurt, too.

I also had Angela, a girl that I was willing to marry. Again, she not only dated while we were apart (me military, she college), but got engaged without telling me to beat it….something about having cake and eating it, too, I believe. It wasn’t until her roommate clued me in to what was going on before I knew.

That one hurt so much that I stopped caring: no more meaningful relationships.

Well, that didn’t last long. But I told myself I needed to just not care and get some, to be that perfectly horny young man.

I was never innocent. I broke hearts, too. I carry the burden of guilt, though. I feel for them and I know I was wrong. Very wrong in one case…I’m so sorry, Jules. I hate this conscience / soul thing.

I did get married, and the heartache should have stopped there.

Or so I thought.

One of the things about an open relationship is that you get to meet new people, and you get to know them intimately. Now, I’m not the guy who cruises the bars. I’m far too old for that. Nor am I looking to replace my wife. Why should I? One of the best relationships, and 19 years of marriage has proven that. Few arguments, no major issues, and the comfort to just be with one another, to talk, to explore and to raise a family.

I just look for that in other women, but ones that compliment my current relationship, not challenge it.

I have to like them…a lot.

Now, I don’t mix the two. I don’t bring ladies home. I don’t forgo family time for me time. This is almost a hobby, something that I can devote spare time to that brings me enjoyment.

I found that perfect “other” a few years ago.

And this last year she broke my heart.

I don’t think she was into our relationship as I was. There were tell-tale signs. On a scale of 1-10, I was thinking 9, she was thinking 6-ish.

Her story is one of deceit and unhappiness, though. I broke a cardinal rule of mine that I should never be involved with a closed marriage woman. I did. Idiot.

She was estranged from her husband, living on her own. I surmised that, well, this is just like being divorced. Idiot.

She had tremendous health issues as well. I took those challenges on, though. I felt she was worth it….

She was a very strong and sexy woman. A feminine woman. I tend to have the non-feminine women gravitate to me: always in jeans, forgoing makeup, and just being comfortable. That’s cool, because that’s me as well: comfortable and easy.

But I do need that feminine woman in my life: makeup, dresses and skirts, an office job…something I don’t get at home.

And she was it. Perfect complimentary match.

Not really. I couldn’t visit her at work or take her to lunch. I couldn’t call or see her on the weekends. It always had to be during the weekdays and nights. Even when she was in the hospital, I had to coordinate my visiting, lurking in the lounges like a ninja.

It started off by chance. A nice date that led to another. Throw in a ballgame, some horrific seizures, and some sex…some awesome sex…and you have us. Long walks in the park, lots of movies, and some crazy times afterwards.

Sorta

She was never a “giver”, only a receiver. In fact, she only saw me naked twice, and one of those times involved 0 sex. I did a LOT of oral, but I only came once…once in the 2+ years we dated.

That was a warning flag I kept ignoring.

I was her crutch, her rock to support her through her health and personal crises. I started to realize that…but I couldn’t resist her. Idiot.

I don’t think she consciously acted that way. I never challenged her on it, either. I wanted our relationship to be organic, not synthetic. I didn’t want to have to tell anyone how to act around me. I allowed it. Idiot.

I was stunned someone so beautiful, so warm, so awesome in personality was interested in me. Had she not had the problems she did, she’d been “out of my league”. She was the star slugger on a rehab stint in the minors. I shouldn’t have gotten attached.

When I told her I was going to move to Saudi, she didn’t seem to be upset. We had some more dinners and good times, but really didn’t seem to be affected. Of course, her health had improved: her seizures were under control, and some cancer was surgically taken care of.

And, of course, her relationship to her husband started improving. She moved back home.

I was leaving the picture regardless.

I couldn’t be a part of it anymore, I guess. No longer in country, she stopped replying to the casual text message. Nothing.

We did have a final dinner in which we didn’t even kiss goodbye. I knew it was over.

And my god did that fucking hurt.

And it still does.

I guess I felt that she’d always be there; that she’d be the other in my life. I felt good. I felt great. I was happier at home as well. I grew closer to my son before my leaving to Saudi ruined it.

So, I don’t know how I will go forth in my life. In Saudi, you don’t fraternize, so the dating scene is a no-go. When I am home on vacation, it is pretty much 100% family time, as it should be. I will get to see a friend in July for a few days, but otherwise I’m there to be with my wife and son.

Oh, wait, that friend in July stopped texting/messaging/occasionally saying hello as well. Fuck me.

Or don’t. That seems to be a common thing.

I’ve always had to work hard on meeting women. I’m not that attractive. My gut agrees as it pours over the top of my blue jeans. I have to win women over with charm.

Yes, I do have charm. I’m just not going to share it with you fucks.

Winning someone over with charm takes time and effort. I’m not talking about a smooth operator’s dishonest line. I’m talking about showing who I am and letting them like me.

Of course, maybe that’s the problem. Perhaps I need to hit the gym, to lessen the need to talk, to smile, to hold hands and listen.

Why can’t I be the prototypical asshole douche? They get laid with more frequency. They seem to be doing something right.

Or not.

I’m just reeling from all this. STFU if you think I was asking for it with dating. A person who never leaves the house won’t get in a car wreck, either, but they’d never get to see the world.

Go see it.

Mikestermike

MMTOTD: Bacon is better than gay sex.

 

 

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2 Responses to “Coping with the heart”

  1. […] it wasn’t THIS girl. Just another (married *idiot me* woman) who lives in Mississippi. One of those women who always […]

  2. […] Yeah, HER name is Nikki. The one gal I’ve been talking about of late. The one who broke my heart. […]

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