Women & Dating: Love is Blind…

Dating, Love, Uncategorized, Woman, women

Someone once told me that I am a walking, breathing example of the phrase Love is blind.You have such amazing intuition, you give really good advice and you can read people better than anyone I know

What’s your point?” I asked. “Then why when you fall in love does all of this go to shit?!”

I gave that some thought and realised that he was 100% right. It’s not love that’s blind, it’s quite simply that love blinds me.

It makes me tolerable of things I would otherwise deem unacceptable. It makes me stay around for a lot longer than I normally would and it definitely makes me fight FOR things I would usually fight ABOUT.

So it’s not surprising that I found myself in this exact situation not too long ago, where I thought I might have fallen in love, the fact was I didn’t, but I could have.

I somehow always knew from the beginning that this was a circus and he was the ring leader;  waving around so many red flags I had to be blind NOT to see it.

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In hindsight, I’m glad I blocked myself off to those red flags because it allowed me to just go with the flow and experience it for what it was…a lesson…another blady lesson. And quite frankly, if this was indeed a circus, I was only here for the kissing booth anyway….

But wait, I digress…he allowed me to be vulnerable, even though I resisted. It was something I haven’t allowed myself to be in a very long time. I needed him, it, all of it, and I needed to be blind to see that.

So when it ended and I finally snapped out of the love spell I was under, I realised that he had a pattern and it will always be the same with him and whoever he chooses next and because of this; he will most likely never be happy, at least not in the way he expects to.

This made it a lot easier to stay away from him when things ended. It made it easier letting go of the illusion. I cried though, a little {okay that’s a lie, a lot} and I’d be lying if I said it was easy knowing he was with someone new {so soon after me}; speaking to her the way he spoke to me, looking at her the way he looked at me. But it helped and for almost 8 weeks I never saw him, spoke to him, texted him…until a few days ago.

My eyes really do enjoying looking at him. But this time I’m seeing everything. Like how he seems all over the place yet nowhere in particular. How he imagines situations that he believes will make him happy, when all along he was all he ever needed.

How he doesn’t see this is beyond me.  How he doesn’t realise how amazing he is…so amazing that he actually doesn’t need anyone’s validation.

He told his sister “She doesn’t even need me. I don’t feel that she needs me, I feel like I’m not good enough for her. She really doesn’t need anyone”.

If only he knew that everything he was was exactly what I needed. And how I would love to tell him every single thing he meant to me since the moment we met, how what I needed wasn’t what he was used to; girls needing things like parties, weekends away, lifts, gifts.

If I was the epitome of “love is blind” then he was the epitome of  “when you’re hurting, you should be healing not dating” and a host of other clichès as well.  But he’s never healed, and so he’s never learnt.

I love knowing that he was all I needed, not his things, not what he had…just him. In my blindness I was fine with being “just another one” to him, because in this story he wasn’t “just another one” to me…I needed him, and he’ll never know it, because I will never tell him.

He’s changed me. In fact he said this “look at what I did to you…” to which I replied “what? made me soft?” …he smiled and gave me that look that would usually result in our clothes being ripped off. But alas. {we’re friends now, and friends don’t do that…apparently}

But he has, he’s made it okay for me to be softer, kinder and more affectionate. I’m still the alpha though, let’s not get that twisted. But I am more open about my feelings, wants and my needs. His touch made me want to be touched. And the way he spoke to me; he’s made me realize that if no one ever speaks to me that way again I will miss it, because I loved it. But mostly I love how he’s changed the way I think about men and how I need to treat them too.

Honesty was always what we found most refreshing about the other, so when that honesty was used to end things, it made it okay…besides, I could never be angry with this man, never.

So I would love nothing more than to tell him these things you know, and I will. But the words never seem to make their way out my mouth. And even though I never say it, I know he sees it on my face. He says “your emotions sit right there you know, I can see it” and even when I lie and try to dismiss things and emotions he says “You are such a bad liar!”

***I couldn’t hide it even if I tried ***

My blinkers might be off, but knowing that I love him without being in love with him {this is still debatable though} shifts me into a whole new place in his life and him in mine. A place we both seem to enjoy. A place where I really hope we can stay.

We will never be together romantically again, I have no intention of going blind again, and being in his life as his friend seems to be the reason we found each other. Because I think he might also be blind…and perhaps my role is remove his blinkers so that he can see how amazing he is and that if he just stops chasing the idea of love, it will eventually make its way to him…the way I did.

 

 

 

 

 

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Love & Relationships: You’ll be amazed what you find when you’re not looking ♥

Dating, Love, Relationships, Uncategorized, Woman, women

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He found me, after our world’s have lived in parallel for what seems like forever. The universe finally thought it was the right time.

Now he looks at me like I’m the only person in the room. He does this all the time. He’s done this since the first day we saw each other. I find myself doing the same.

He speaks to me as though he’s been waiting his entire life to tell me his stories. He’s done this since the first moment he introduced himself to me. I find myself doing the same.

He holds my hand in a way that feels like should he ever let go I would fall, and should i ever let go so would he.

He kisses me as if it’s my air that fuels his lungs, in a way that should my lips never meet his again he’d suffocate and die.

He listens to me so attentively it’s as though his favourite song rolls right off  my tongue. Memorizing every word.

And his voice; I would do anything to hear it, every single day.

I must have done something right in my life to be given everything I have ever asked for; wrapped up in one beautiful human being who wants nothing more from me but to love him.

So if I ever thought I was in love before {and boy did I ever think that} I couldn’t have been more was wrong, because nothing, in my entire life, ever felt like this.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Love & Its Inevitable Ending: Death

Death, Love, Relationships, Uncategorized

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He knew I could never live in a world where he doesn’t exist. 

I grieved him and us and what we had while he was still alive. I mourned the loss of our life and our love for almost three years. It was difficult but I always knew he was out there somewhere, walking around, laughing, dancing, living. But that’s all changed now.

I started this blog in an attempt to try and write him out of me, to try and write the words I was unable to speak, to tell the stories I could never tell. All in the hopes that one day it can finally be over. That I can finally stop loving him, stop hating him, stop feeling him.

114 posts; more than half about him; the man I loved more than life itself, the man who loved me, hated me and broke me. Gosh, he loved me. Sometimes I knew it, other times I questioned it.

114 posts about love {having love, losing love, thinking I’d found love to actually falling in love again}.

114 posts about heartbreak, pain, sadness, the inevitable healing and moving forward.  and the things I did to forget him. Trying in vane. Always. Because he knew I belonged to him and I knew it too.

114 posts about learning to live without him and they have to end today. They have to end today because he died. The love of my life, the man that changed my world, the man who owned my heart even thought he broke it several times over, he is dead.

His heart stopped beating Friday the third of March 2017 at some ungodly hour in the middle of the night in an area far away from where he and I shared a life, a home. Friday the third of March was when his life ended {taken}. His last breath drawn {taken}. He left. Me.

“23 Nov – We never even said goodbye to one another, baby we gonna be apart forever”

I have tried to be okay. Even answering the questions “are you okay” with a “yes”. Mostly lies because I’m not. I dream about him every night, he’s banging on my windows screaming my name, screaming for me to help him. But I can’t. I couldn’t. It wasn’t my job anymore. It was hers. She never did her job.

So I’m stuck with these questions in my head all day. Why was he there, why did he lie to her, why was he without her, why did he leave without his things, why was he in the street, what did he say to them when they approached him, did he scream for help? Did he try and fight back? Did he know he needed help.Why was there no one to help him? Because he never needed it that’s why! He was strong, and fit, he never needed help until that night. And no one was there.

I spoke with him briefly the Thursday, some time between 5 & 5h30pm, we laughed, he quoted Riel Prophets’ song “ChillinLike A Villain”. He loved rap music, hip hop…I never knew that would be last time I’d hear from him. I replied with a laughing face emoji and the words “I’m glad” …my last words to him was “I’m glad” because I was. He seemed up beat and relaxed. Staying out of trouble. I wanted to believe him. {Believe. The word tattoo’d on his arm, his motto, Believe} I wanted to. But that was the last time I will ever hear from him. Of him yes, the day I got the news I “heard of him” again. “They found his body” …”He’s dead” it said. But not from him. I heard of him. Because he is dead.

We always spoke about who would die first {I always believed I would because cancer runs in our family} and we spoke about who would tell the other about it. I told him I would feel it, the day he no longer breathes, but I didn’t, I felt nothing at all. I woke up that Friday, went to work, wrote my 114th post, mostly about him; again, and went on my merry way. In fact, I still spoke about him that Friday night, I said “I would have done anything to be with him, and I did, I did it for us, and love” I did everything. Everything I could, except be there when he needed me. When he died.

We never thought he would actually die, he was immortal you know {his words}, he was my superman {my words}. The one that protected me and also the one who I ended up needing protection from.

I woke up that Sunday, that’s when I got the news. That’s when I heard of him. I dropped my phone and started shaking. Crying. That was how I knew I would feel. Like my heart is breaking all over again, shattering into a million pieces. My already broken heart, breaking even further. He knew I could never live in a world where he doesn’t exist. He died anyway.

How did it feel to lose him? Like every goodbye ever said to me, all at once.

All. At. Once.

114 posts. And this, is my last one.

 

 

 

Love & Personality: Touch my heart but don’t touch me

Dating, Love, Uncategorized

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Love is not complicated, people are.

It’s kind of difficult though when the one thing you need in life is something you don’t want. Or at least, not something you want from the one who loves you.

Don’t get me wrong; I am all about massages, head rubs, playing with my finger tips {yes, that is a thing} but yet, it’s the affectionate touches that seemingly bothers me the most.

Oddly enough there were moments where touch was extremely important to me…for me to {want to}touch him and to {want to} be touched by him. These were the times I was in love, with him. Like utterly, soul shakingly, eye blindingly in love. These are the times I would remember. And these are the times that has created the basis for every other touch.

I remember times as I lied beneath him I’d feel him start at my ankle, slowly stroking my my calf with his fingers, my thigh, groping my butt {as if to say “this here, this belongs to me..and it did}. He’d make his way up from the small of my back, squeezing my shoulder before he’d stroke the entire length of my arm eventually landing his palm into mine…he’d gaze up, into my eyes and look at me with what felt like bewilderment for what he’s seeing, for what he had just felt; physically, emotionally…holding my hand with every part of our bodies touching each others’…that, that was touching.

He  was able to touch my body, my mind, my heart…because I wanted him to, because I was in love with him, and because of that I needed him to feel it, to feel that love, to feel my body that I gave to him.

Love was beautiful, I miss it though. I miss the anticipation, the electricity {literally; when we’d touch we’d shock} the corner of the mouth smile when our eyes meet from across the room, I miss the want but most importantly I miss the self I become when I am in love. Different. Who I am supposed to be.

Softer, rounded edges. More gentle, caring. But I’m also possessive, obsessive, jealous and paranoid. Until I have unlearned the latter, I cannot be the former and I cannot enjoy the touches and everything that accompanies it that I so deeply desire.

So for now, I will continue to seek other ways of receiving and demonstrating my emotions…but mostly, I wait for the day that my eyes look at another the way they looked at him, before I even knew exactly what he was going to be. Mine. Forever.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Love & Relationships; Space & Time

Dating, Love, Relationships, sex, Uncategorized, Woman, women

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Sometimes I have to re read my words, the words that my heart spoke during a very difficult time in my life. I re read them to remember how far I have come and to remind myself to never ever go back there.

I remember so much sadness. I wish I could forget that feeling. The emptiness, the despair.

I remember how lost I was and I remember the things I did to try and find my way back to myself again. It seemed in vain. But I tried.

The things I did to make myself “feel” better when in actual fact I couldn’t feel anything at all. But I tried.

I remember hoping & praying that one day I would be able to be okay again, myself again. I remember hoping & praying to heal, so that one day when he comes along I can be whole and happy and not allow my past to hurt my present. My gift, the gift i hoped for. A feeling out of the brokenness.

Sometimes I forget to remember, those are the days I smile. Laugh. The days I forget to remember, those are the best ones.

I never used to laugh much, but I remember being happy; but I also never used to cry as much as I did. I remember each tear, like a lover lost; fading the further it went.

I liked laughing. It was better that crying. I found my laughter again, and it’s been a while since I cried, until a few nights ago, until he made me cry again. The one that gave me that feeling. The one I hoped for. He made me cry.

Crying because I couldn’t understand how you could say to someone “I think we need space” when space is all we ever had? So callously. So carefree. So inconsiderate.

And no matter how many times I tried to close that space, he found equal and more powerful ways of reinstating it. Again, I tried.

How do you tell someone “I think we need space” when that is all you have ever given them, because you knew they needed it, and they needed time; time to understand that not all women are the same, time to understand that maybe I won’t do what she did, time to understand that it could be different. Time to heal the same hurts I have. I tried. He never did. And seemingly never will.

He doesn’t get to say that. Space and time was all I ever gave him because I thought that’s what he needed.

Until it became clear that that was what he wanted.

 

 

 

Women & Love: Only when you know what love is not, will you find out what it really is

Uncategorized

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I don’t think I have ever truly been in love before, not the way it’s supposed to be at least. You know; the way poets describe it, the way authors write about it. Being in absolute love, not something I have ever had the privileged of being in.

Not until now that is. Well, a few months ago when I met him for the first time. I looked into his face one night {even murmured a few words} not even knowing his name but somehow everything changed. A part of me realized I found what I had been looking for. The other part of me. That thing that I was missing. He was right there.

I am different with him, in a good way. I speak differently, softer, more gentle. I behave differently, calmer. I feel differently, awake, in touch and aware. I could hold his hand and not be afraid. I can cry in front of him and be okay. I can tell him how I feel and the world wouldn’t come to an end. My heart has opened, it chose him and changed.

Missing him is not heart wrenchingly painful. There is no jealousy, no obsession, no possession. No nauseating feeling in the pit of my stomach when I imagine the endless possibilities of what he is doing when i am not with him. I just feel content knowing that I breathe the same air he does. That the same sun touches both our skins in the day and the same moon lights up our sky at night. No matter where we are, I feel him as though he was next to me.

It was the oddest thing, when I realized I was in love. Weird, different. It’s so beautiful though that even though I don’t know if we will ever be together, wanting him to be happy is the only thing that matters to me. Whether it’s with me or not. *How mature is that!? We’ve had our moment and continue to have them when the world brings us together just often enough to remind us of the other. The other times however I do spend my time not waiting for him…he’s never asked me to, and I have never asked him too either…there is no expectation, there is no disappointment. I have others and I am sure he does too. Which is why I know this is real what I feel, knowing I love him, knowing I will be ready when our time comes.

Simply knowing he’s alive right now means more to me than anything and knowing that our time will come and when it comes I need to be ready to love him. I have been waiting since the start of forever for my forever and I knew my heart would find him eventually, and I knew when I did there would be no turning back. I fell in love with a man, and it was soft, and gentle; the way you fall when you fall asleep…not the way I used to do it, the way when you fall off a cliff and break all your bones and die.

 

 

Love & Heartache: My X, Y?

Break Ups, Cheating, Relationships, Uncategorized

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This week was the first time that I saw a photograph of him and her together, it’s been 3 years and this was the first time. I saw it once before however, but that was at a “work event’, little did I know that it had already started back then. It’s not like I went looking for it, it appeared on my TL. I never asked for it, I never even realized what it was in the beginning. Something told me to ignore it, but instead, I chose not to. I wanted them to know I know, I wanted everyone else to know my damn name.

I don’t know why I reacted the way I did. Anger.  Lots of anger. Lots. I wanted to rip his throat out and throw it at her. I wanted the earth to swallow them and take them away and hopefully with it all my feelings too.

My feelings for him. My sadness, anger, pain and despair. Why the fuck do I still love him?! Why do I convince myself that I don’t?!

Am I officially insane? This man wanted to kill me for God’s sake.

Why does seeing them together hurt me so badly?

Why do I still feel so angry and filled with rage?

Why can I just not let them be?

It’s because he lied. It’s because he cheated on me, with her. It’s because he lied. It’s because she answered his phone when I called him. It’s because he lied about her. It’s because when I asked her about I’m she said “jou pa se p&o$” as if she knew my father…as if she had a right to be angry at me…as if me asking if she’s sleeping with my boyfriend gave HER the right to be angry at me. It’s because she didn’t know me. She knew about me, from the lies he told. It’s because she didn’t know she was the other woman. It’s because he lied.He lied. To me. All the time.

Seeing that photo has taken me ten steps backwards, I’m feeling the same way this week that I did 3 years ago. The sadness, crying, headaches, insomnia; it’s all back. The pressure, tension and anxiety. The mood swings. They’re all back. Like a fucking reunion of my mixed messed up emotions.

I hate him again for doing this to me, but then I hate myself again for allowing it.

I was trying really hard, to get better. I really was. I even tried to fall in love again, I even tried to convince myself that I was. I wish I could be, that is the only way I won’t love him anymore, is if I love someone else, but I don’t want to love someone else just to stop loving him, because that’s not fair either. But I feel nothing. This is why I do what I do; in an attempt to feel something. It never works.

So I’m going to be stuck in this limbo for a while and it hurts me every day while I’m here, but I don’t know where else to go.

*The way I loved him was some kind of powerful, I’d give anything to feel that way again, but I’d give everything to feel this kind of pain again…not ever. Not ever again