and everything else that needs a title, for that matter.
Anyway! Who cares about titles, it's what's inside that really matters! :D
I am posting on here for the first time in just about a year... I have this other blog that I very inconsistently post on now, called "25 Hours Per Day", but I really feel like that isn't the blog for me right now. Because... Just because.
So, I would like to write something now, in regards to a post from last year, on April 30th.
Not the one about still working at the resort.
The one about Jordie.
I never ever thought that I could love anyone else the way I loved him; he was my first true love. That man is strong, funny, and beautiful. He is also weak, cruel, and sick. He is not, nor was he for the majority of the time I loved him, the kind of man I wanted to love. There were so many times that I hated myself for loving him. I spent countless nights on the streets downtown searching for him, just so I could hug him and tell him how much I loved him, so I could buy him food and cigarettes, and so I could kiss him goodbye when he left to get high under the bridge. I remember those nights so well, the drive home was always a rollercoaster of emotions. Overwhelming relief and joy to know he was still alive, intense anger because I knew he would always choose meth over me, and a sadness so deep it made me physically sick, because I didn't know when or if I would see him again. My dear friend, Rowan, would come with me on many of my nights searching for him, and 9 times out of 10, our searches would be futile. We got colds more than once from being out in the cold or rain for hours, and we dealt with the occasional creepy and dangerous guys that young women avoid on the streets at night. We also had a lot of fun, we danced and sang and flirted with the late night street musicians, and we met a lot of homeless people who were so kind and pure. We always asked them if they knew Jordie; of course everyone knew Jordie. Had they seen him around recently? Oh yeah, he was riding his bike over here a few days ago! I would ask them to, if they happen to see him, tell him that I love him very much. I don't know how often my words reached him through others in his community, but I do hope they did. Because if people came to me and told me, Jordie wanted me to tell you, he loves you, it would give me some comfort. And I imagine for him, that comfort would be tenfold, because I know how much he held on to my love, to the thought of me waiting for him. Always waiting.
And truly I believed that I would always be waiting for him. I truly believed I would never fall out of that love. I truly believed that there were two ways it could go: He would clean up his life at least enough to function in society (After a while, I didn't care if he continued to do meth), and he and I would finally get to live our lives together. Or, I would wait for him until he died on the streets, and I would live my life without someone at my side. I truly believed these were the only two scenarios.
I did reach a point where I stopped looking for him. For my own health, I knew I had to stop. I believed that when he was ready, if he ever was, he would find me. And if he never did, then that was just fine. I learned that I would be just fine without him or anyone else, and I began to be happy this way. I had a future in my mind of me, just me. Maybe I would adopt a child, maybe not. But I didn't see a man in my future, and I was so happy about that. But deep down, I still loved him, and I believed I always would love him.
Then, on a slightly windy day in October, I met a man named Brian at Boulevard for coffee. We had initially met online, as I had taken up meeting people online mostly to provide myself with entertainment. This man was funny, and weird as hell. Weirder than me, possibly. When we met, I knew we would be friends for a very long time. Something about him felt very right. And so our friendship began. He was in a non-monogamous relationship, and very soon after meeting we started sleeping together. The experiences I had with him were unlike any I had ever had, every moment I spent with him felt like it was part of a dream. More than that, he inspired me. This man quickly proved to be one of the hardest working people I had met, but beyond being hard working, he was working for his dreams. His passion and his beliefs drove him forward, and he didn't look back. To him, anything you can dream up can be made into reality. And he didn't only work for his dreams, he worked for other people's dreams, too. Just talking to him on the phone would remind me of these things, and that motivated me every day, to do more, to be brave and step boldly into unknowns, and to never give up on my dreams.
I fell in love, and he fell in love with me, too. When this happened, he was still in a relationship, and I won't deny how much that hurt. I thought, if he loves me, why does he choose her over me? I knew he felt more for me. And I knew he stayed with her because he had been with her for years, and it's never easy to walk away from a long relationship. She lived with him and relied on him for many things, and her parents were a beneficial connection for him with his businesses. But of course, none of those things seemed worth it to me. Nor did it seem fair, to any one of us. To me, to him, or to her. She knew what was happening, too, and she was hurt by it. She ended up leaving him, though I can't say it wasn't without warning. She left him because he was seeing me, after she told him to stop. When she first told him to stop, he did, for a short while. When he explained it to me, I respected it, and I told him that my feelings would not change, but if he couldn't just be friends, that would be fine with me, but I insisted he remember that I would always be a friend to him. So he was gone from my life, but only for a moment. He showed up at my house on Thanksgiving, because he was worried about me (serious family problems were just beginning at that time). And anyways, long story short, he decided that he would continue to see me, because he loved me, and so she left him. Maybe I was blind to it, but he didn't seem too torn up by it. Their love had been dying out for a long time, and I think if I hadn't come into my life, they would have parted ways eventually, or stayed together out of convenience, but for nothing else.
When we decided to commit to a relationship, it wasn't easy. He warned me of all these different things that would make him horrible for me, but he ensured that if we did this, he wouldn't back out. I told him that being with him was worth the risk - what could I lose, anyway? I had been so happy on my own, I hadn't had any intention of being in a relationship again (much less loving someone again, for that matter). If things went wrong, if he betrayed my trust or broke my heart, that would be okay. I had already had those things happen to me, with Jordie. And anyway, I didn't think I would ever love this man as much as I had loved Jordie, so what harm could be done? So it was decided, we would commit ourselves to this relationship, this "non-monogamous" (neither of us have seen anyone else, this label is really just there because of his personal issues) relationship. We agreed to support each other and stand by each other, for better or worse.
As the universe would have it, shortly after beginning this relationship, Jordie showed up in my life again, by way of Facebook. He came with sweet words that I believed but that meant nothing to me, and with promises that he was making changes and he was ready to be the man that I deserved, and it sounded like this time he really was making changes. Maybe he really was finally ready to get better, to get off the streets and start a new life. It was at this time that I realized, I was unaffected. I didn't feel anything towards his words. I was shocked at myself; was it possible that my love for him was really gone? To his delight, I agreed to meet with him, to buy him coffee so we could talk. I planned to see him with my own eyes, and hear his words directly. I wanted to know if the love was really gone, and I knew that seeing him would provide that answer. So, we made the plans to meet, and I told Brian what had happened, and that I was going to see him for coffee. I know it was really hard for Brian to let me do this; he knew of my history with Jordie, he understood everything I had been through and everything I had felt for this drug-addicted man. But he respected my decision, and so I met with Jordie. He was late, but not really. After waiting in the coffee shop for twenty minutes, my patience was up, and just as I was about to leave, he walked in. Just like him, really. I bought him a coffee, and out of habit I gave him the remainder of what cash I had. He apologized for making me wait, and said that he had been standing outside, watching me through the windows, for the past twenty minutes. Too nervous to come in, he said. He was afraid that he had lost my love. I told him that he shouldn't have made me wait just because he was nervous, and next time I wouldn't wait twenty minutes. And then I asked him how he was, and what he was doing to change. He told me all the things I had been wishing to hear for the past several years. Everything that I would have given anything to get him to do, he was beginning to do. And he told me so many times that night how much he loves me, how much he misses me every day, and how the thought of a future with me is what pushes him to keep going; how that thought is the one thing he is holding on to. I told him that I was happy for him, and proud of him, and I encouraged him to not give up, and then I told him that I was in a relationship with a man who made me very happy. I couldn't tell him more than that though, I couldn't tell him that I loved Brian, and I couldn't tell him that it was Brian's love that had given me the strength to overcome my love for him. I couldn't tell him that I didn't love him anymore, even though in that night I knew with every inch of my being that I did not love him anymore. I couldn't tell him because I knew it would tear him apart, and I did not want to be the one to ruin all the progress he was making. Maybe that wasn't fair for him to not know the truth, but as it turned out, I didn't need to say anything. In that night that I knew the truth, Jordie did, too. We made plans to get coffee again soon, but I knew the plans were only spoken for our comfort. I knew I wouldn't see him again, and he knew it too. That night, when I left the coffee shop, I felt the weight come off me. I felt, in all honesty, free. After all the years being so madly in love with him, after all those nights looking for him and all the nights screaming silently into my pillow and crying myself to sleep, after all the times I had tried and failed to move on from him, to get his soul out of my heart... He was gone. All the feelings associated with him, the good and the bad, had lifted away. That moment in the car, driving home, leaving him for the last time, was the happiest moment I had felt in the entirety of my time knowing him.
Since then, I have been with Brian, a man who is incredibly unique and magickal, a man who has powerful emotions that he does not entirely trust. A man who cares deeply for my health and happiness, who has included me in his dreams and his future. All I can think is that I am truly blessed.
And that is the end of what I have to write. I have to say, I had no intentions of writing about this... I only thought of it because I happened to see that old post from last year. But I'm glad I wrote it, for all of the people on the internet to see, even though no one actually reads my incredibly lame blog.
Now I'm going to do laundry, which is what I had started doing before I got distracted by the computer.
***If there are typos in this, it's because I didn't reread this before posting. No edit. Not that anyone will care. Since no one reads this (I write this to remind myself that, the internet population really is not interested in my shit, and this really is just because why the fuck not. Stop caring so much, self!)
Anyway! Who cares about titles, it's what's inside that really matters! :D
I am posting on here for the first time in just about a year... I have this other blog that I very inconsistently post on now, called "25 Hours Per Day", but I really feel like that isn't the blog for me right now. Because... Just because.
So, I would like to write something now, in regards to a post from last year, on April 30th.
Not the one about still working at the resort.
The one about Jordie.
I never ever thought that I could love anyone else the way I loved him; he was my first true love. That man is strong, funny, and beautiful. He is also weak, cruel, and sick. He is not, nor was he for the majority of the time I loved him, the kind of man I wanted to love. There were so many times that I hated myself for loving him. I spent countless nights on the streets downtown searching for him, just so I could hug him and tell him how much I loved him, so I could buy him food and cigarettes, and so I could kiss him goodbye when he left to get high under the bridge. I remember those nights so well, the drive home was always a rollercoaster of emotions. Overwhelming relief and joy to know he was still alive, intense anger because I knew he would always choose meth over me, and a sadness so deep it made me physically sick, because I didn't know when or if I would see him again. My dear friend, Rowan, would come with me on many of my nights searching for him, and 9 times out of 10, our searches would be futile. We got colds more than once from being out in the cold or rain for hours, and we dealt with the occasional creepy and dangerous guys that young women avoid on the streets at night. We also had a lot of fun, we danced and sang and flirted with the late night street musicians, and we met a lot of homeless people who were so kind and pure. We always asked them if they knew Jordie; of course everyone knew Jordie. Had they seen him around recently? Oh yeah, he was riding his bike over here a few days ago! I would ask them to, if they happen to see him, tell him that I love him very much. I don't know how often my words reached him through others in his community, but I do hope they did. Because if people came to me and told me, Jordie wanted me to tell you, he loves you, it would give me some comfort. And I imagine for him, that comfort would be tenfold, because I know how much he held on to my love, to the thought of me waiting for him. Always waiting.
And truly I believed that I would always be waiting for him. I truly believed I would never fall out of that love. I truly believed that there were two ways it could go: He would clean up his life at least enough to function in society (After a while, I didn't care if he continued to do meth), and he and I would finally get to live our lives together. Or, I would wait for him until he died on the streets, and I would live my life without someone at my side. I truly believed these were the only two scenarios.
I did reach a point where I stopped looking for him. For my own health, I knew I had to stop. I believed that when he was ready, if he ever was, he would find me. And if he never did, then that was just fine. I learned that I would be just fine without him or anyone else, and I began to be happy this way. I had a future in my mind of me, just me. Maybe I would adopt a child, maybe not. But I didn't see a man in my future, and I was so happy about that. But deep down, I still loved him, and I believed I always would love him.
Then, on a slightly windy day in October, I met a man named Brian at Boulevard for coffee. We had initially met online, as I had taken up meeting people online mostly to provide myself with entertainment. This man was funny, and weird as hell. Weirder than me, possibly. When we met, I knew we would be friends for a very long time. Something about him felt very right. And so our friendship began. He was in a non-monogamous relationship, and very soon after meeting we started sleeping together. The experiences I had with him were unlike any I had ever had, every moment I spent with him felt like it was part of a dream. More than that, he inspired me. This man quickly proved to be one of the hardest working people I had met, but beyond being hard working, he was working for his dreams. His passion and his beliefs drove him forward, and he didn't look back. To him, anything you can dream up can be made into reality. And he didn't only work for his dreams, he worked for other people's dreams, too. Just talking to him on the phone would remind me of these things, and that motivated me every day, to do more, to be brave and step boldly into unknowns, and to never give up on my dreams.
I fell in love, and he fell in love with me, too. When this happened, he was still in a relationship, and I won't deny how much that hurt. I thought, if he loves me, why does he choose her over me? I knew he felt more for me. And I knew he stayed with her because he had been with her for years, and it's never easy to walk away from a long relationship. She lived with him and relied on him for many things, and her parents were a beneficial connection for him with his businesses. But of course, none of those things seemed worth it to me. Nor did it seem fair, to any one of us. To me, to him, or to her. She knew what was happening, too, and she was hurt by it. She ended up leaving him, though I can't say it wasn't without warning. She left him because he was seeing me, after she told him to stop. When she first told him to stop, he did, for a short while. When he explained it to me, I respected it, and I told him that my feelings would not change, but if he couldn't just be friends, that would be fine with me, but I insisted he remember that I would always be a friend to him. So he was gone from my life, but only for a moment. He showed up at my house on Thanksgiving, because he was worried about me (serious family problems were just beginning at that time). And anyways, long story short, he decided that he would continue to see me, because he loved me, and so she left him. Maybe I was blind to it, but he didn't seem too torn up by it. Their love had been dying out for a long time, and I think if I hadn't come into my life, they would have parted ways eventually, or stayed together out of convenience, but for nothing else.
When we decided to commit to a relationship, it wasn't easy. He warned me of all these different things that would make him horrible for me, but he ensured that if we did this, he wouldn't back out. I told him that being with him was worth the risk - what could I lose, anyway? I had been so happy on my own, I hadn't had any intention of being in a relationship again (much less loving someone again, for that matter). If things went wrong, if he betrayed my trust or broke my heart, that would be okay. I had already had those things happen to me, with Jordie. And anyway, I didn't think I would ever love this man as much as I had loved Jordie, so what harm could be done? So it was decided, we would commit ourselves to this relationship, this "non-monogamous" (neither of us have seen anyone else, this label is really just there because of his personal issues) relationship. We agreed to support each other and stand by each other, for better or worse.
As the universe would have it, shortly after beginning this relationship, Jordie showed up in my life again, by way of Facebook. He came with sweet words that I believed but that meant nothing to me, and with promises that he was making changes and he was ready to be the man that I deserved, and it sounded like this time he really was making changes. Maybe he really was finally ready to get better, to get off the streets and start a new life. It was at this time that I realized, I was unaffected. I didn't feel anything towards his words. I was shocked at myself; was it possible that my love for him was really gone? To his delight, I agreed to meet with him, to buy him coffee so we could talk. I planned to see him with my own eyes, and hear his words directly. I wanted to know if the love was really gone, and I knew that seeing him would provide that answer. So, we made the plans to meet, and I told Brian what had happened, and that I was going to see him for coffee. I know it was really hard for Brian to let me do this; he knew of my history with Jordie, he understood everything I had been through and everything I had felt for this drug-addicted man. But he respected my decision, and so I met with Jordie. He was late, but not really. After waiting in the coffee shop for twenty minutes, my patience was up, and just as I was about to leave, he walked in. Just like him, really. I bought him a coffee, and out of habit I gave him the remainder of what cash I had. He apologized for making me wait, and said that he had been standing outside, watching me through the windows, for the past twenty minutes. Too nervous to come in, he said. He was afraid that he had lost my love. I told him that he shouldn't have made me wait just because he was nervous, and next time I wouldn't wait twenty minutes. And then I asked him how he was, and what he was doing to change. He told me all the things I had been wishing to hear for the past several years. Everything that I would have given anything to get him to do, he was beginning to do. And he told me so many times that night how much he loves me, how much he misses me every day, and how the thought of a future with me is what pushes him to keep going; how that thought is the one thing he is holding on to. I told him that I was happy for him, and proud of him, and I encouraged him to not give up, and then I told him that I was in a relationship with a man who made me very happy. I couldn't tell him more than that though, I couldn't tell him that I loved Brian, and I couldn't tell him that it was Brian's love that had given me the strength to overcome my love for him. I couldn't tell him that I didn't love him anymore, even though in that night I knew with every inch of my being that I did not love him anymore. I couldn't tell him because I knew it would tear him apart, and I did not want to be the one to ruin all the progress he was making. Maybe that wasn't fair for him to not know the truth, but as it turned out, I didn't need to say anything. In that night that I knew the truth, Jordie did, too. We made plans to get coffee again soon, but I knew the plans were only spoken for our comfort. I knew I wouldn't see him again, and he knew it too. That night, when I left the coffee shop, I felt the weight come off me. I felt, in all honesty, free. After all the years being so madly in love with him, after all those nights looking for him and all the nights screaming silently into my pillow and crying myself to sleep, after all the times I had tried and failed to move on from him, to get his soul out of my heart... He was gone. All the feelings associated with him, the good and the bad, had lifted away. That moment in the car, driving home, leaving him for the last time, was the happiest moment I had felt in the entirety of my time knowing him.
Since then, I have been with Brian, a man who is incredibly unique and magickal, a man who has powerful emotions that he does not entirely trust. A man who cares deeply for my health and happiness, who has included me in his dreams and his future. All I can think is that I am truly blessed.
And that is the end of what I have to write. I have to say, I had no intentions of writing about this... I only thought of it because I happened to see that old post from last year. But I'm glad I wrote it, for all of the people on the internet to see, even though no one actually reads my incredibly lame blog.
Now I'm going to do laundry, which is what I had started doing before I got distracted by the computer.
***If there are typos in this, it's because I didn't reread this before posting. No edit. Not that anyone will care. Since no one reads this (I write this to remind myself that, the internet population really is not interested in my shit, and this really is just because why the fuck not. Stop caring so much, self!)
