I'll Help You Hide the Bodies in a Little While
I can't even write about most of this right now because I'm still a little physically ill over it. My big take away is to trust my gut more. I've never been good at that. And my instincts are good. I felt so guilty for being suspicious and not trusting. I thought it was just a sign that I wasn't ready. So I said I wasn't ready. Thank goodness for that. I told him that I was beginning to trust him and he made some sort of bullshit comment about how I was healing and he was glad. I apologized for projecting my mistrust.
Funny how doing a hard and necessary thing can bring you right back to yourself. I did a hard and necessary thing today. I set a boundary. One I will stand by. I'm standing up for what's best for my heart and my body and the mind I dedicate in service to a good cause. And maybe I'll never hear from him again. And that's okay too. I just finally have learned to establish clear expectations and lay out what I want and what I deserve.
For anyone wishing to enjoy my company, my time, my conversation, any of me, know that there are terms. I'm not giving so much of myself to anyone not worth it these days. I guess looking down the barrel at mortality every once in a while changes things. So if I'm answering your calls, your texts, your DMs, your emails, I love you. And you are worthy of that love. And it's a hard, strong, deep love. Lucky you.
It's been another rough couple weeks. Dropped nine pounds from not eating or sleeping. I haven't been able to write or paint or think clearly. I've been fuzzy-brained like unbrushed teeth and feeling a little self-destructive like I get. Went on one good drunk bender, supervised by friends. I still have no idea where all of that blood came from. I was not destined to wear light jeans. I hope to fuck it comes out.
I think the shock is the hardest part. I'm accustomed to liars and players and dirtbags. I'm not used to believing them when they lie, play, and dirtbag. I usually have such a good instinct for character. And at first, there was a heaviness there in the pit of my stomach, that inner me that knew. I ignored it and listened to the words someone else gave me, the earnesty in a look, the tear hanging just at the end of a sentence. I believed false sincerity. All of it. It sounded and looked so real to me. I saw a good man, doing good things in the world and I refused to see the red flags on the other side of the fence.
I got a nasty wake up call. Someone I love was on the phone with me. And he stayed until he fell asleep, to my screaming, ranting, crying, hyena laughing, making no sense sentences. He's always had a good gauge for me. Last night talking about Josiah and the Bonnevilles, and then he sent me a reel from them five minutes later. Simpatico. It's comforting for anyone to be that in tune with you and for it not to be a threat. Tidepools you can wade in and not have to get pulled under.
I feel often like I don't deserve the friends I have. I said today, in that hard conversation that the reason I have friends like this is because I am that kind of friend too. I will absolutely rescue you. "I will bring you buckets of mercy." They have been my saving grace and I will always be here to do the same. Even if I fuck it up sometimes. I'm a fuckup sometimes. We're all fuckups sometimes. It's part of being human. Forgiveness is important, trust is hard to rebuild. I'm more than happy to do the work to get back there for them.
That said, I'm giving the dirtbag a chance to do the same. I asked him if he thinks he can do better. And we all know it's so hard for someone to change. To really change, you have to want the change. And that's the offer I presented. I will not abide a liar. But I think people can be better if they want to. I asked him if he wants to do better. If he wants to bask in my glory. Of course he does. I asked him to table any notion of romance and let's get it together to see if he can do better. And I asked for a timeline. I told him that I would not wait while he gets it together. He asked for end of February or beginning of March. March 1st, I said.
I am not trying to fix a man. That is not my job. That is not my responsibility. A man can save himself just like a damsel can rescue herself. No woman has any obligation or responsibility to save or fix a man. I think that just like a drinker, or a drugger, or a gambler, a cheater can fix himself if he wants to. And we'll see if he wants to. I sure hope he can. I like him.
He asked if he could still text. I said of course. He asked if we can still exchange songs. I said of course. He asked if I'd still take him to shows. I said okay. But we will not be alone. And if at the end of that time he decides that he doesn't want to try, I will need to know. I'm okay with being friends. I will not be an option and I will not abide the lies.
I'm in control of this situation. I like the feeling. If nothing else comes from this, it's knowing that I have the power. I will carry that forward with me. I think he likes that too. He likes a badass who takes no shit and calls him out. He says he's not used to anyone calling him out. Dear reader, can you imagine him thinking I would be one of those women who would bite my tongue and take his shit? I told him I'm the Princess of Leave and that I can and will any time I like. And that when he fucks it all the way up, I will leave. And that every time he sees a head of curly red hair for the rest of his life, he'll do a double take. But it will never be me. And I will be a great regret in his life. I know because he's not the only one.
Make no mistake, if something better comes along while he's getting sorted out, he's the one who will get the boot. He's already shown himself and he doesn't deserve my grace or my mercy or my compassion and he certainly doesn't deserve me or another chance. And he knows it. He takes all of my justified anger with no excuses and no arguments. He accepts that he fucked up bad. And he looks contrite. But he looked sincere when he told me that he'd have more time soon. The look on his face when he said that was real. I thought. When he was so happy to see me trust again, to heal, and how important those things are in a relationship. Lying sack of shit.
And I have dressed him down in public, in private, with my mother in the room. He went to meet her. No one in my family approves of him. Because, you know, dirtbag. I have told every person I know about him and his behavior. I've not sugar-coated anything or protected him anymore than he bothered to protect me in his dirtbagging. I told him this is how men get shot. No self-preservation instinct in that one.
I am embarrassed. I am humiliated. I am so upset with myself for allowing him to stay here in my life. I deserve better. He knows it. I know it. Everyone I know knows it. And they are pissed for me. That's part of the embarrassment. All that love and joy and beauty and I decide to let this pond scum hurt me, hurt me again, and then give him a chance to do it again.
He seemed genuinely hurt that I didn't believe him about a whole other subject. A philanthropic effort that I've started to involve myself in. It's such a good idea. A good cause. One l believe is just the thing. And I may have suggested that he might take advantage. I'm involving my job and my coworkers and I do not trust him. The last thing I want is to put my name beside something that would take away from an already marginalized group. He was kind of pissed. I think that might be the tell for when he's not lying. It happened one other time. I shouldn't even write about it because I don't want his lying ass to be able to use the one thing I can believe in him. But if he lies to the person trying to help him do the good he's doing, why not just skip the middle man and screw them over too? Lie to me about one thing and then get butthurt that I don't trust you about other things.
If I didn't believe there is a good man in there, I'd have told him to fuck all the way off. I know he's hat-shittingly insane, but that's kind of my type. I like a challenge. I like a little something unpredictable. I like a man who's a little wild. A man who doesn't really know himself. I like the surprise when I figure them out. And I think they like the same things in me, along with my level of radical acceptance of people and their flaws. We're all fuckups.
I hope he can affect the change he says he can. I think he's worth it. I don't think anyone who does what he does on the side could really be a bad person. A fool, oh yes. But not irreparably fucked up. I don't think he wants to hurt people. I hope what he needed was to be called out. Sometimes that works. A hard shake from someone who cares about you. It worked for me last year and I changed. But I have got to learn that not every person in the world is like me. There are people who are not good people. People who don't want to do better. People who just want to keep getting away with the dirtbagging.
He says his feelings for me are sincere. That he likes me. He's nearly tripped over his own words about it a few times. But words are easy. Words are cheap and actions don't lie. When someone shows you who they are, believe them. Even if they say they love you. Not that he has. He sure as shit better not for a long ass time because I won't believe that either.
And I'll put money on this one being one of those. I don't trust him. I won't. And he will have to work. He will have to earn my attention. He will have to show me he's sincere and I won't just believe his blue puppy eyes and the way his voice cracks a little when he thinks I really might kick him out of my whole ass life. I deserve the absolute best. He can be that. Or he can be a dirtbag. It's all up to him.
*Update after his own deadline*
He used the safe phrase a while back. The one we established for when he was completely drowning and couldn't talk, but would touch base later. Progress!
Then there was that AT&T outage a few weeks ago. He was part of it and so was Nikola. 10:30 rolled around and I got a call from the shop phone. I figured it was Stephen needing something for the website because it would be out of character for the other one to remember, care, think about it, make it a priority, etc. But no, it was him calling to let me know what was going on since he hadn't sent his usual morning texts. Wow. More Progress!
The next day, I knew it was his week without the kids, so I asked if he could make some time for me and he said yes, but then hemmed and hawed about actually making plans. A long ass text with a lot of "probably, maybe, should, will likely" et al. I told him that I couldn't plan anything on these parameters and he needed to give me a time slot. He told me that when he was finished with the task he'd been working on, he'd let me know. I knew he had plans with a friend until 9 or 10 that night, so I waited...impatiently. At 9:30, I finally called him. He answered. More Progress! We talked for an hour and a half. It was good for me. He finally said 1pm Sunday.
So Sunday, he made some time for us to be together and talk. I'm the Sunday girl. I still resent the motherfuck out of that. It was Sunday before his own Friday deadline. He worked on his RC car and then we took Luci out to chase it. It was a blast. Then he handed me the control and though I warned him, he kind of just jiggled it in my direction. I crashed it into a wall in about a minute. So we went to lunch. I'm not sure if I haven't told him or if he just hasn't managed to remember that I really don't like Tex-Mex. Just bad Mexican food for someone raised with an adoptive aunt married to a Mexican. I know what the good stuff tastes like and this cheese-covered, oversalted nonsense ain't it. If he could act right, I'd take him to Jalisco.
All day, in the car, with his hand on my knee, while we had lunch, when I would move to kiss his cheek, he'd turn to kiss my mouth, letting me hug him and just melt. He was leaning in so hard.
So we get back to the shop and it's nearing 6. He's got laundry to do and I can see his brain shifting into the next task, as he will do. I love watching his mind work. He's quite intelligent. Of course he is. I'd have absolutely no use for a stupid man. Smart and complicated and a little wild a just a tiny bit insane. Just exactly what I'd like to call my own.
I told him that a hard talk would be coming soon and to let me know when he was ready for it. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, shoulders and chest all involved. I wish he'd have just slapped me. I knew. And then he told me he didn't think it was a good idea for us to be in a relationship. Well, duh. When has that ever stopped either of us from doing what we want? I raised my eyebrows, and went to my car. I stopped with my hand on the door and turned around. I approached him fast and looked him dead in the face and said "this isn't for you" before I kissed him hard. I don't know when, but he slipped his hands around my waist under my coat and then up the back of my shirt. He still kisses me brainless. Then I got in my car. I was driving off when I heard him shout. I'd left my expensive ass hat in his car. I stopped and he passed it through the window. My mistake was staying there after. I eventually even got out of the car.
He said "we can still talk" and I said "no, we can't." I said that because it's true. I can't be his support person and his Sunday girl and the person he leans on if he can't do some of the work involved too. When it's all said and done, he's right. This is a terrible idea. My logic was that if we have the right feelings, logistics be damned, we have to try. How can you have those feelings and not at least try? He's not nearly as brave as I thought he was.
Then he cried. I mean, two big tears. I wiped the first one away and kissed his cheek. I let the other one fall and let him clean up his own mess. I teared up, but I didn't cry. I've done enough of that over him and I'll be damned if I'll let him see me do it. He hasn't earned that. But then he hasn't earned so much of what I've given him. He told me that he can't be what I need. Thank you so much for telling me what I need. Because what I really need is a man to tell me what I need.
He's not going to act right. During his just over a month of self-imposed "reset, he bailed on me as usual more than once. He was AWOL a whole lot. I kept telling myself that what he was doing during this time was none of my business. And it wasn't. That was the point. I still had these flickers of absolute fury not knowing where he was or who he was with. But they really were just blips. That was an important part of the process for me. And now without hope that anything will ever be more than a dalliance, I'm detached from that feeling. I'd just hoped that he'd get to the place that when I really need him, he's at least present. Nope.
He seems to think that the real thing means burning other parts of your life. It shouldn't be that way. The real thing should make everyone's experience better and easier. I guess he's never really had that. I guess I never really have either. But that's how it should be.
I don't want him to sacrifice the things he finds important. I never wanted that. I wanted him to give me the time he has. I wanted him to not be giving that time to five other women who, according to all sources, are "the ghost of a trace of a pale imitation of" me. Stephen and I laughed in dismay at how if you're going to cheat, cheat up. And he ain't. Who wants five sad little Taco Bell bean burritos when there's pollo mole and fresh tortillas at home? Bring the cilantro. I wanted to be there when life is too heavy for him. I wanted to take the kids to get hair cuts when he's got a migraine and just can't go out in the light. I wanted to be the person to defend him and protect him and make his life better. I mean, I understand the reluctance with the kids. That's bitten him hard at least once. But I think that's part of it. I need him to trust me. I guess when it all comes down to it, he either will or he won't. You can't change what people believe about you with words.
So I didn't speak to him for days. I asked Stephen to run interference as needed. He's so good. It didn't take much time for me to fall all apart though. I missed him. I'm a fool as much as he is. He doesn't want this and if that's the truth, I need him to make space. I can't do it. Because I do want it. He doesn't seem to understand that if he really does care about me as deeply as he says, he'll push me all the way away if he doesn't want to try. It's the kindest, most loving thing he could do.
I had a really terrible night Monday. Maybe the worst place I've been in since Jay died. I texted him hen he asked how my day was and I was honest. I told him I wanted a hug. I wanted a hug from him. He didn't answer the phone when I called. Straight to voicemail. It might have been after 8 and he turns off the ringer. Regardless. I have a select few people who can circumvent my do not disturb settings. He's one of them. I'm glad I have a host of people who love me. People I can call. I am so fortunate for the love that I have.
So Tuesday is shop day after work and physical therapy. It was a terrible day at physical therapy. I was weak and gassed and sore. No real explanation. Sometimes your sore heart beats up the rest of you with it. I went over to do the photos for the website. He's so pale, I'll have to do his again in better light. It's definitely not great. In fact, may take a neutral sheet and do all of them again. It didn't occur to me that there was nowhere to stand them.
The man makes it clear that he's taking the necessary steps to take care of his mind. He's made sure I heard it twice. Once in front of Stephen so I'd believe him, I guess. I offered to go with him if he wants me or needs me. And I will. He's done what I really need. He's seen me and accepted me and seems to still care and want me around and even like me. I'm really not hard to please.
Stephen tells me he thinks it is better for me to write his bio. I didn't tell him how hard it can be to write about yourself objectively. He underestimates himself on so many fronts. He was ready to take that on and then kicked himself when he felt like he'd failed. Cut yourself some slack, my dear friend. I want you to hear what I say about you when you aren't around. That's how you know you're a great person and that I care about you and that you haven't managed to irreparably hurt me yet.
Cody was prompt and prepared and silly and cooperative. That kid. Smart, intuitive, sensitive, genuine, compassionate. I love him like he's one of my own. I guess he is now.
So, as he's leaving, Stephen makes some crack about a hug and how it's not gay. And I said that if he hugged me it wouldn't be at all gay. That got smiles all around. He comes around the table that I'd strategically kept between us all night and just enveloped me in those strong arms and held on. And held on. And I could feel my body soften. Relax my shoulders, ease my breathing. I told him I really needed this and he said he knew. And I asked him if he was ready to hear it. And he didn't understand what. Thought I meant what was making me so sad. He didn't realize they're the same thing. I told him I loved him and he said it back without a moment of hesitation. And I turned my face into his shoulder and breathed him in and breathed everything else out. His response was unsurprising, welcome, clear. I wonder if being loved just stirs him that deeply.
He says he's trying to get himself sorted out and I asked if he wanted me to stay around for it. He said he'd not mind the company. I told him I'd always be here for company. Then I told him love doesn't disappear. Thanks, Lilly. All of this conversation in his ear while we are so close there's no air between us. I told him he makes me feel calm. And I'm never calm. I didn't feel like crying for the first time in a week. I just felt soft and warm and seen.
We eventually drew back and I looked at his calm face and felt how he was a little less calm a little lower. Kissed his cheek. Kissed his mouth chastely. Let him go. Stole his jacket after he left against the rain and wind. It's so warm. And it smells like him. Like the smoker and the shop and his own vaguely animal scent. I'm going to give it back.
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