Monday, July 1, 2013

Heavy In Your Arms

"I was a heavy heart to carry ...

My beloved was weighed down ... my arms around his neck ... my fingers laced to crown

I was a heavy heart to carry ...

My feet dragged across the ground ... and he took me to the river where he slowly let me drown

My love has concrete feet, my love's an iron ball ... wrapped around your ankles ... over the waterfall"


Ever have a relationship like this? 

I did

Oh ... how did I love him ... let me count the ways. I loved him like a love song ... before Selena friggen Gomez went and ruined that line. 

It was like a wrought iron sculpture, the love I had for that boy: 


Massive ~ Heavy ~ Black ~ Beautiful

"JJ" was my first love, my 'first time' and my first real taste of heartbreak. We spent most of the two years we were a couple (at the ripe old ages of 16/18 and 17/19) embroiled in a massive power struggle. Of course at the time, I was struggling with the recent brutal rape of my best friend, a massive depression, the onset of agoraphobia, quitting school and generally falling apart. 

Not to be out-done, JJ promptly went ahead and developed life threatening allergies to a then unknown ingredient that seemed to be present in everything the boy put in his mouth. He essentially died right in front of me once. I saved his ass. It scared me right through to my core. Seared that shit onto my grey matter. In fact, I believe that very moment was what has caused me to be such a helicopter parent to this day. It happened right in front of my eyes ... he was gone. Fortunately, I was able to get him to a hospital fast enough that they could reverse the anaphylaxis. They zapped him, shot him full of epinephrine and he was okay. But, it affected me. 

We were so dramatic. Like ... soap opera dramatic. We fought like feral cats. We WERE essentially, feral cats. Un-domesticated teenagers who thought they had their futures all figured out. I was going to marry him. He promised.

He used to take me everywhere. We would get in his little dodge omni and just ... go ... whale watching, to the wild life preserve, to a neighboring province ... exploring down some back country road ... everywhere and nowhere.

I adored him. Worshiped the ground he walked on, in fact. I believe in my heart that he adored me, too ... as much as he was capable. I think that the weight of containing me and my messy-ness became more than he could handle ... especially since he had his own demons to master.

Alas, it was not meant to be.

He was not "strong enough to stand protecting both (his) heart and mine"

I brought the bad things out of him. It wasn't on purpose - I just did. Ferocity was what he brought out of me. It was scary sometimes ... most of the time, really. We would get so physical with one another ... and he was so much stronger (physically) than I was, so I got hurt ... often. I really did deserve what I got ... I would fight so hard to just win, already. Cracked three of my ribs just before we broke up, in fact.

"This will be my last confession ... 'I love you' never felt like any blessing ... ooohhhh

Whispering like it's a secret ... only to condemn the one who hears it ... with a heavy heart"

There have been a number of moments in my life where I can say I was truly broken. This was one of those times. I needed someone in my life that didn't take anything. So did he. I'm not really sure how long he was seeing the other girl before he managed to break up with me. It may have been weeks, maybe months ... I really don't know. The point is, he cheated on me, dumped me and then married her ... had 3 kids, moved on with his life and made something of himself. 

Prick.

Fast forward 23 years ... I am starting a business. I need every ounce of help I can get and I'm really not too proud to ask for it from anywhere or anyone (or am I?). He has a big juicy title and has been in the media somewhat lately ... so I figure I'll get a personal reference from him. Why not, right? Not like he doesn't owe me a little good will ... 

So ... I began looking for contact information for him. Not so easy to locate. It took me a month or so, but I finally tracked him down this past Thursday. I sent him an email and asked him to call me. I wasn't too concerned that he wouldn't contact me ... I honestly thought that he would, at some point.

I hit send on the email and went off to do some housework.

It was less than three minutes from the time I sent the email until the phone rang and it was him. Guess I was right. He was ... different. He even sounds different. He says he's old ... that the job has aged him. Possible. I know work stress can take a toll. He's recently graduated from a business course. From fuckin' HARVARD, if you don't mind.

SHUT THE FRONT DOOR!

Harvard business school. This guy was a muscle head back in the day. A rugby player. Now he's taking advanced business courses from Ivy league schools... he wants to retire from his current position and ... oh, maybe run a hospital next ... Good Christ.

How in hell am I supposed to compete with THAT? Little Miss Uneducated. GAH!

Well ... I proceeded, undaunted. Told him about my new venture, about leaving finance, about my kids and hubby and mother and a bunch of other stuff ... I was so gob-smacked at some of the things he told me, I didn't ask a lot of questions, just mostly responded to him. It was ... weird.

There is a fundamental part of my being that still belongs to him ... pretty sure it always will. I think I am special to him, too. I think he wonders sometimes 'what if' ... 

There was a moment - after he asked me to text him the next time I was in the city and we'd meet for coffee - where I felt ... less than. Does that make sense? I felt like I had something to be ashamed of or some other stupid bullshit label that I assigned to myself and my own dissolution with my life ... but then I remembered the life in question. We're awesome. I have a fairy tale marriage, with healthy and gorgeous evil genius kids and I'm starting my own bloody business. Where's the fail? 

We have struggled through some hard assed shit ... and we are still here, queer and loving every minute of it. We've been doing 'for worse' for years and still manage to love each other more with each passing year.

For better is the easy part. We've persevered ... and I should wear that like a bloody tiara! I have EVERYTHING I have ever truly wanted ... right now. How many people can say that and mean it?

So I am going to meet him ... soon. I will get whatever help from him for my business that I can. I will enjoy him, flirt like a school girl, make him sorry (even just for a minute) that he let me get away and then I will walk away.

Is it wrong of me to hope he is fat? Or bald? Or old? Actually ... I just want his wife to be any of those things  ... but from all accounts, she is like uber chick. She's a nurse manager and mother of three and they have a cleaning lady and she's likely pretty and skinny (the wife, not the housekeeper ... although who knows, perhaps she is, too) and ~ and ~ and ... he chose her over me 23 years ago and was likely very right in doing so.

That smarts a little.





I am happy to report that I am as light as a feather in Hubs' arms. Take THAT, JJ.

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