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 & Relationships; Space & Time

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

wordpress_space-and-time

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

wordpress_love

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.

 

 

Women & Heartache: My three year anni{misery}

Break Ups, Dating, Love, Relationships, Uncategorized

I knew that some day when I’d eventually meet someone new that he would know; not because he was told but because he’d be able to feel it; that he would be able to feel my love for him fading and eventually dying.

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We always knew each other so well, he knew every smile, every eye roll, every “it’s fine” when it wasn’t because he made it that way. We’d start speaking at the same time {and it would always be about the same thing}. Our bodies mirrored each other the same way our minds did.

There was a time when we were perfect for each other, but that time was short lived.

It’s officially been three years and one day since the fateful end of our relationship. The timeline of our demise has become somewhat blurry but I believe we died the day he decided to give me my very first blue eye. Three years has since passed since I felt the sting of that man’s hand against my face. Three years since the day he put his hands around my neck and suffocated me. Three years since he literally wanted to kill me. Some would say it’s been long enough for me to be okay by now, for some to question why it still hurts this badly; those people clearly have never known heartache the way I have at the hand of someone they loved, I pray for their sakes they never do. There’s been many things since that “three years” but what it all comes down to is heart ache, heart break, heart wrenching & heart gutting anguish and turmoil and every other adjective to describe the falling & breaking of a woman…to a pit so deep that the light at the end of that tunnel is no where to be seen.

You see heartache is no joke, it is not something to be taken lightly, it is not something you simply “get over” or “move on” from. No…heartache is a disease that has no cure, something no doctor can medicate. There is no magic pill for this kind of shit, and so you deal with the shit in the best way you know how. I have, whether it has worked or not remains to be seen but what I can say is that the fear of having my heart ripped open again has been the sole reason for the erection of these walls {I just said erection, hahaha}; these walls that not only prevent anyone from coming close enough to hurt me, but seemingly also prevents anyone from coming close enough to make me happy. And happiness could be the very cure that I so desperately need.

A friend of his always said “the two of you have such a strong chemistry that it borders both passion and insanity”, he’d say “julle is so lief vir mekaar dat dit julle mal maak” {you guys love each other so much that it literally drives you crazy}.

I remember telling him after the break up that I wish to never speak of him again, to never have to say his name, to never have to hear it being spoken in my company…but in that same breath I also asked him “tell me how do I explain to someone what I am without doing that? How do I tell my story without sharing yours, and ours?”

The simple answer is I won’t ever have to because the right man won’t need me to explain. The pain and torment I experienced at his hand will eventually be erased by the gentleness of another’s. The words he uttered to me, will be erased by the kind words spoken off the lips of another. One day there will be another who will come to live in my heart when it’s ready to open it’s door.

So who is this “other” you may wonder; well this is what it’s been about of late; the battle of the two; the one who instantaneously broke down my walls from the day we met, the one who when I see him literally makes my heart skip a beat, taking my breath away, the one whom I just can’t seem to stay away from…yet I manage to do just that

*because then there’s The Architect, who just so happens to be someone worth writing about

**but that’s a story for another day

***happy anni{misery} & a day, to me

 

 

Love & Relationships: He was my one, WAS.

Uncategorized

I think about him far too often for it to be healthy. I think about how much I loved him, what I did to be with him, what I gave up, what I lost, but also what I gained. It might seem like nothing to many people, but I gained the knowledge of what I never want again. Of what I never want to feel again, of what I never want to hear again. I gained the knowledge that love does in fact not hurt, it heals. And when it hurts, it is not love.

Our story is an amazing one, I think we were just too young when we met the first time and the second time {10 years later} was not the right time. We made ourselves believe it was though, but having something that started out wrong was bound to end wrong. And boy did it ever.

We fell into a love that you simply do not ever fully recover from. A chemistry so strong that it could be good, so good…and bad, so bad. A chemistry that many described as dangerous. And again, boy was it ever! We are over now, have been for a number of years, but in our souls we will always be each other’s other. The one that taught us more that we would like to admit, the one that hurt the other more than we could ever explain and the ones that loved each so much that it literally nearly killed them.

He is my forever, the one that will that will continue to live in a small place in the corner of my heart, mind and soul. His name tattooed on my body marking every place he ever touched. Every place his eyes ever landed. The one that will always be both my best and worst memory. He is my one. Well, was my one. That’s the only difference now. That’s the only thing that has changed.

I believe I will never love another man with the same intensity and passion with which I loved him, and that’s okay. We had a great love, when it was good it was amazing. But the bad out numbered the good nine times out of ten. He was it, until he was no more. Until he changed. Until the man I loved lived no more.

I don’t want to replace that love. I’ve used men over the last few months to replace his memory, it won’t ever work…I tried hard, I really did. It’s not fair to them and it is indeed not fair to me to continue to try and do that. It is with this epiphany that I am now able to move forward into the hope that I will in fact be okay, that I will fall in love again and that I will be loved in return. Although he will always be a part of me as I will be a part of him, trying to write his story out of me will never work. Trying has exhausted me. Even my tired is tired.

*I’m just tired. But wait…I still have a date tonight {fok}

Women & Heartache: The devil you know

Cheating, Love, Relationships, Uncategorized

His memory comes and goes like the changing tides. Not nearly as predictable although sometimes I wish they were, so I can see it coming instead of it hitting me in the middle of a random Saturday morning like a ton of bricks. I hate the emotions attached to his memory the most; they are so schizophrenic it exhausts me. There’s the love, the love that completely overwhelmed me for years…a love I know I will never have again for another man. The hate, the utter and absolute hatred I felt for him for such a long time for allowing me to suffer at his hand, for treating me the way he did, for lying, cheating and taking things from me as a woman that never belonged to him. For moving on so quickly while I continued to suffer, every single day, even now.

wordpress_devil you know

Often weeks go by without a single thought of mine being infected by his memory. Those are the good days. I loved that man. Goodness gracious, did I love him. Even the words “I loved him” is a slap in the face {pardon that pun if you know why it’s a pun, then you’ll know why that’s funny} to the love I felt.

I have had some devilish ideas lately where I thought it’s a good idea to talk to him, but all I really wanted to do is look at his face, touch his skin, smell him…hear his voice. I still miss him. I hate that I still do, because he doesn’t. These thoughts are not good for me and so the distractions start. I thought I was done with the distractions because mostly they lead me down a path I stopped walking a while ago.

It’s been better since I stopped that, it’s been a good year so far, albeit we’re only in the 4th month; my birthday month. This is why it’s happening!!! The last birthday we celebrated together was my 31st birthday, two years ago. It was already over at that point, I thought him making the effort he did was a way of him trying, one last time. It wasn’t. The next day I had my family over for dinner, he “went to a work function”. Never came home, showed up the next day drunk and high attacking me…until I left.

I ended it one week later {because you know the apologies, begging and pleading lasts about 4 days}.

I gave him an hour to pack while my daughter sat in the lounge. He left with only three bags, but he also left with my heart, my sanity, with everything I needed to move past him. And so my suffering continued, while he did not. While he had someone else’s hand to hold, I was left, with nothing but fucking tears and sadness, and a broken mother fucking heart {notice the anger seeping through…it is only this anger that keep me from breaking my #nocontact rule}.

I cry often at the thought of him, of us, of what I did, what he did. What we never said, what we did say, the words…the hurtful words that changed me. Words that today, when I hear them, sets off what can only be described as a bomb because my reaction to it hurts more people than it heals. My body seeks out these words, my body wants to feel something: if it’s incapable of feeling love, it will continue to feel hate: if I can’t fall in love, I will continue to envelope myself in anger. This is not good. This is what I have tried to stop. I am getting better. But the progress is slow.

So now my biggest fear is knowing that one day I will be better, that I will be able to move on, fall in love again and then; that day, I will no longer remember what it was like to love him.