Have You Seen Me Lately?

So instead of passwording or shutting down, I thought the most reasonable course of action would be to simply “ask” the Canadian to not read my blog for awhile – easy, right? I didn’t invite him to read the blog in the first place so I thought he’d just respect my request and I could write with a tad less inhibition.

The conversation didn't quite go over as smoothly as planned. BIG Mistake. Huge! 

He was personally hurt and (in his words) “monumentally insulted” that I didn’t mind saying whatever it is I say (which lately amounts to nothing more than bemoaning a relationship long since over) to strangers and the blog reading community et. al. but he wasn’t allowed to read it. I, of course, take a much different view that its nothing personal but that I can’t very well write about HIM and expect it to be anything even resembling honest if I know he’ll read it. 

At any rate, I hurt his feelings and I apologized – a lot of good it did me. 

Blah blah blah, long story short(er) – he’s not reading. At least for now. 

So am I now going to  come up with some huge, personal, revitalization that could only be achieved within the playground of relative anonymity? Obviously not, but one could hope!

Frankly, I think he’s being a bit sensitive but I didn’t intend to hurt his feelings.

Questions I Don't Want Answered

I’ve been having dreams.

Mostly about Fuckhead.

In my dreams we talk. I’ve been asking him a lot of questions but I always wake up before I can ask him the one question to which I want to know the answer to: Do you miss me?

Last night was the worst of all. In my dream, he was married to the she beast and they had just had a baby. I cried (in my dream) and I cried and I screamed and I screamed. It wasn’t a fun night. That’s absolutely the last time I allow myself to fall asleep without some kind of artificial somnial enhancement to block such dreams from my head – Ambien being my personal drug of choice.

I assure you, this isn't some deep seated unconcsious desire for some kind of cinema-esque reunification. I don’t want him back. I don’t. I promise. I don’t want a pot smoking, un-motivated, emotionally dependent man still attempting to relive his frat boy glory days. 

But I do miss being happy and completely in love – that kind of love that you read about, that you hear about, the kind of stuff that inspires tales such as “The Notebook” – emotions that you never thought possible until experiencing them; that love the brings along with it the possibility of all things and the strength to handle anything life throws into your collective paths.

I had that and it's dissapation has left quite a large hole.

Frankly, it's probably best that I don’t sleep long enough to hear the answer to that one question.

  

 

P.S. I'm thinking about starting to password again - what do you think? I just hate that the more noteable ex's in my life have access to these pages and I find myself holding back more often than I'd like to admit. So what's your opinion? Passoword or start a new blog all together?

CAUTION TAPE

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