Reminisce on the Love We Had...

Reminisce on the love we had…

It’s really something else – the ability to ask the universe for something and to have your requests fulfilled. Via this blog and various other avenues, I have asked the universe to put some worldly folks in my life and this weekend past found me in the company of two beautiful, independent and driven women. We met in Fort Greene for drinks and within a matter of minutes we were chit-chatting the afternoon away while Michael Jackson tunes filled the outdoor venue. Our conversation ranged from Brazilian porn (yes, these are my kind of chicks!), to hiphop, to blogging, and everything and anything in between. The topics discussed were done so with energy and positivity. It was a wonderful way to spend a Saturday afternoon. I left them feeling, aside from overly tequilaed up, very satisfied and driven.

One of the two ladies I just met that day and the other, Sarah, I’ve known since the age of 7. Our parents began attending 12-step meetings together and she and I would play coloring books and the likes while our folks soaked up the anti-drug propaganda. Sarah and I recently reconnected via social-networking and it’s almost as if we never missed a beat. She came down to visit me the week that Daniel and I broke up and I cried into my plate of untouched mashed potatoes while she listened, without judgment, and offered a warm heart. I appreciate women like this. Sarah also happens to be finishing up her Masters Degree in Social Work from NYU, is a fully independent, smart, beautiful woman, and has little patience for bullshit or assholes. These are the kind of women I want and need in my life. These are the kind of women I most identify with.

Over our outdoor margaritas, Sarah asked if I’d yet had a lover since the breakup. “Nope. I’m fucking dying but nope.” – She told me it’s never been so evident than it was in my last posting that I’m far from over Daniel and that she thinks what I’m doing by waiting is good – and what I need. And, I agree with both of her assessments. This is what I need, and I’m far from over Daniel.
Don’t get me wrong, the days are much easier and I’m certainly a hell of a lot better than I was the first few weeks after the break up but the fact remains that there isn’t a day that goes by where he doesn’t enter my mind. I don’t know if it’s just missing him – missing someone – or if it’s outright abnormal to still have him haunt my thoughts so often. Three nights ago I had what felt like consecutive dreams all featuring Daniel’s face, Daniel’s voice, Daniel’s cock. I woke up and literally had to shake my head back and forth, much like a dog that has just finished a swim. After I ‘shook it off’, I sat in bed for a while and just thought about some of the better times:

1) The time Daniel bought me an 82 piece silverware set because I’d been in tears earlier in the day over not having matching china to host a dinner. This must sound so outrageously silly but to me, it was one of the sweetest things another human being has ever done. We were hosting a dinner for six at our apartment. It was actually our first dinner party together and my being such a domestic goddess doesn’t allow room for any imperfections. The table was set beautifully – with the good china – and the apartment sparkled. It was time to place the silverware down when I realized that I hadn’t a matching set to present. That realization was all it took to go into a downward spiral of emotion that was rooted in never being able to have nice things, growing up in a dirty drug-addicted home, and every other possible negative connection I could make to the past and present not matching up. Yes, over a fucking spoon… I shed some tears and got myself together while Daniel ran out to get last minute things for our dinner. When he came back with the groceries he handed me an 82 piece matching silverware set, kissed me on the forehead and assured me I’d never need to feel like I don’t have nice things again.

2) The sidewalk chalk Daniel bought me as a birthday gift from the cat, complete with card.

3) The Ben & Jerry’s phish food containers he gave me when I was sad.

4) The times we’d lay and watch TV – no talking necessary- my head in his lap, his hands in my hair – our bodies entangled.

5) The night we made love in our bedroom with the balcony doors opened – a breeze tickling our skin as we moved with such a synchronistic beat that afterward we both remarked on how it literally felt we were one entity.

6) The times he’d stop dead in his tracks just to tell me ‘You’re so pretty’.

And, finally, the time when in his parent’s home, we lay in our bedroom and discussing our future he said “I want to build a life with you Kitty, I want us to have all of this one day”. I just smiled and kissed him – confident in the fact that he already knew I’d been waiting to hear those words for such a long time.
I can’t help but reminisce on these things. They happened and although at this point it seems like they didn’t – mostly because of his extreme extraction from my life, I fear ever forgetting the way I felt the moment each of the items above happened. I don’t want to forget the warm love inside, the content I felt, or the security with which I believed we were living. The odd thing about the reminiscing is that it doesn’t sadden me as much as you may think. I don’t sit here and recall these loving moments with an ounce of regret or sorrow. Instead, I sort of feel lucky for having been able to feel these things at all.

Daniel is the first man I’ve opened myself up to in a long time. Prior to dating him, I’d done the casual stints of relationships here and there. I had plenty of men on whom I could call for company but I never believed in anything with them. I matter of factly chose to date losers so that I couldn’t possibly allow myself to be truly invested in what we had. If I was never really invested, I could never really get hurt – and that’s the defense mechanism I used to keep myself safe from the heartache. Then along comes Daniel and I opened myself up to something I felt was very real. I believed in him – and I believed in us as a unit. That is a serious accomplishment for me. I opened myself up - and that’s why when I sit and remember how I would turn into a giddy little girl every time Daniel was around, it’s not with tears of sadness in my eyes - it’s with a feeling of success that I’m able to feel that way at all.

Do I miss him terribly? I think that’s an obvious answer…

At least I’ve got the memories, right?

Mother Fucking Daniel

Disclosure: I'm angry.

This blog is not the only piece of written material I have out there on the Internet. I am the proud owner of a few other blog-type columns on the net and a bunch of said columns are publications with which my real identity is tied. Accordingly, I have various social media outlets with which these publications are connected. Blah blah blah. Here's the meat of the story:

Today I published an article for a column and I blasted the article out via email. I maintain a group listing for this particular column and any time someone joins or leaves said group I am notified. Shortly after my new piece was blasted out a crawl comes up on my screen which reads "Daniel xxxxxxxx has unsubscribed from xxxxx list". I can honestly say this not only surprised me but it genuinely hurt my feelings. I'm not sure what it is that is going to have to happen for me to wake up and welcome the reality check that this dude simply wants absolutely nothing to do with me but it better come soon because I'm really tired of feeling like our relationship was worthless.

I get it - we're apart. I do not call him, I've deleted him from my facebook and any other social media outlets. I do not email, do not IM, do not text. For all intents and purposes, I am completely invisible (Hi, Emily Previn). Is it so wrong for me to expect a certain level of support on my personal endeavors, though? This particular column for which this article was blasted out is an actual paid gig. The money earned is damn near nothing - but for each click I receive, I get a tiny piece of change - and you know what? It adds up. It's not even about that, though.

Here's the thing:

Daniel and I dated for a year and a half or so. We had a relationship that started out stronger and with more passion than almost any other union I've had in my life. I really felt like we simply understood each other. I was able to talk to him and to tell him my secrets, my fears, my desires and my insecurities. In turn, I sat and listened to his - and held him when he found himself in tears over things that may not seem tear-worthy to someone else. I didn't judge him for crying, didn't try to change who he was or toughen him up in any way. We both had our issues and it felt sort of great to have someone with whom I could be open and honest, with whom I could be weak. I always felt like we were such a strong couple because of all of this mental support we provided one and other - and right now, after having watched him completely delete yet another part of who I am from his life, I am kind of wondering what the fuck happened to all that support.

It's not about being a boyfriend or a girlfriend. It's about being a human being. My writing endeavors are not what pays the bills. I work a 9-5 just like every other Tom, Dick and Harry. My writing is done so because I genuinely enjoy it. The fact that I have some outlets which allow me to earn a penny here or there is great and I'm very lucky to have found that opportunity. Every penny counts, na'mean Brooklyn? That said, it is just astounding to me that after all of the mental support we've provided one and other that I'd see Daniel's name vanish from my mailing list.

It just seems so childish - so fucking immature. Our personal relationship has absolutely nothing to do with the topics I cover in this particular article. If it was my sitting there and discussing my heartstrings I could completely understand his not wanting to be witness to that - but, fuck - you can't offer me the simple support of just being another human being out there that is down to support a passion that lives inside of a woman with whom you shared your life, your secrets and your fears?

It just hurts, readers. It hurts to know that this man I loved - and obviously still love on a lot of levels, undoubtedly wants absolutely nothing to do with anything I'm involved in. I try to understand it and I try to make sense of it all but I come up short with each attempt. I am lucky to have folks who will talk me through it and crack various jokes. I am lucky to have people in my life with whom I can spend time and not focus on the sadness that finds its way into my mind when shit like this happens.

I am lucky.