Absent
I must apologize for my lack of posts recently, my computer has been on the fritz and trying to get access elsewhere is a challenge.
I feel absent in a lot of other ways as of late, as well. I generally feel very disconnected and feel myself falling into patterns and distancing myself from friendships that I have little reason to distance myself from. It’s not for feeling discontent, I am quite happy with the things around me and who I am. I don’t feel like I desperately need anything.
But still, I often feel misunderstood and frustrated with those around me. It’s getting very emo in here, I know, but stay with me because I’m sure I’ll snap out of it eventually.
Admittedly, a bit/almost a lot of these feelings center around Music Man drama. I requested a meeting with him that we might foster understanding, move beyond awkwardness and generally get ourselves on the same page about our friendship. At first he responded with what I know to be a true statement about his not having any time (he may be the hardest worker I happen to know and stays busier than I do) and asked what I wanted to talk about. I simply came back with another time I could make available to meet for an hour and a flippant remark about discussing Russian literature. Because, the whole point of meeting in person is to get real, honest reactions and not reveal everything through e-mail.
He has since failed to reply to that at all, fully aware of how much I find it rude when someone doesn’t at least acknowledge a message has been received (seriously, it pisses me off).
So now I find myself in the position of having to tell him to man up and give me what I need. If we were talking about sex I’d be more inclined to get to relay such a message quickly. But it’s not about mutual satisfaction, it’s about answering questions that are either real or imagined and having to be awkward once in hopes of not being awkward ever again. I don’t necessarily want to have such a conversation, but I as a mature person that finds honesty a valuble thing (outside of wishing I could have his hands all over me again, because, damn it was so good) know that I need to have the record set straight.
Details could make it easier to understand, but alas, you won’t be getting them because it would take a long time to explain him and I. I can say that I often think I’ve gotten over whatever feelings I might have for my Music Man only to discover later that my feelings (and fantasies) are drifting back in his direction. In fantasy-land I would just be smacking him upside the head and saying, “Really? How do you not see how amazing I am and how is it possible you aren’t falling all over yourself to be with me? You apparently have no idea what you are blinding yourself to.” And then he would be all, “Oh wow, you’re right. Forgive me, Maid, I can’t believe I never realized how perfect you are…let me make it up to you. I do want you, you’re everything I didn’t realize I needed.”
But this is not a fantasy and I really just want the reality of being known for who I am and not the person I was when I met him, a girl who was in a state of being completely destroyed from her most recent break-up. I just want honesty here in the real world.
And so I’m off to write an e-mail to demand I get what I need.
Sob.
When most people say they need a good cry, it implies going home and sobbing into a pillow for…what? A half-hour?
I never say I need a good cry. And if I do need one, today it looks like it manages a time-frame of under five minutes.
My body wanted it. I shook some as I drove home, as my whole person shuddered with a need to release something inside of me. But, as always, my mind wouldn’t allow it. My mind demanded strength, demanded I keep it together, demanded I get over it.
Until I got home, closed the door, set down bags, and pretended I was going to get something from the kitchen. I opened the refrigerator door only to close it almost immediately when I couldn’t see through the hot tears dramatically welling up in my eyes. I couldn’t walk further than the living room, where I collapsed on the floor, stretched out, and let out the first sob.
But my mind still only allowed a few sobs to get through. The tears were unbearable and so stupid, worthless. What would someone say if they saw? How ugly it looked, how ridiculous I was being. Such a drama queen.
I still feel heavy, perhaps my body will win another battle later and silence my mind long enough to shed the stress it holds onto. Because my body is tired of holding it in.
Holding it all in.
How worn I feel from long hours of work, no matter how much I enjoy the job.
How it hurts to want him and him not want me, without even really knowing who I am. With years behind us and berating myself for not just getting over it, and frustration with him for not getting to know me even for the sake of friendship.
How I don’t ever want to be at home. It feels so oppressive, with all the history of things that I want to physically put behind me while they are, for the most part, emotionally behind me.
How tiring it is to play a part, rarely seeing someone look past the pulled-together exterior and compliment who I am. That being my fault, when I don’t want to be vulnerable with anyone.
My mind is still winning. It seems to have more stamina than my body, my body is quickly tiring. My mind and body need grace, and the mind is too proud to accept.
Caution: May be habit-forming.
The first time I kissed the Music Man was a couple years ago. It goes down as number one in the top five most memorable kisses I’ve enjoyed, with just the right amounts of anticipation, tenderness, and perfect hand placement. Firm hands that didn’t stray into zones inappropriate for a first kiss (I may be wildly inappropriate at times, but I am not easy…). Lips that knew what they were doing and caused me to literally go weak in the knees for the first time in my life, had I been standing I would have stumbled. We kissed again, and again, and would doze off only to wake up for more.
It went no further, but it was perfect. When the night was over I hoped to make it happen again, his lips were addictive.
But it didn’t work out. We’ve remained great friends, but never more. Distance, bad timing, you name it there was a reason we didn’t recreate any magic…until recently.
A couple weeks ago my friends and I decided that since it was my birthday, there should be a fun party that involved copious amounts of alcohol and dancing (OK, so maybe I was the driving force behind the chosen activities, but it was my birthday so I got the say-so). Music Man came out for the good times and when I realized I had never seen him drunk before, I set out to correct that and he obliged because my wish had to be his command on my day.
I don’t think either of us got all that drunk, but it led to some good times on the dance floor. I had never made out with someone so publicly, even though apparently none of our friends saw us. The party continued for us much later that night in his room…taking things further than ever and liking it. Music Man is still very good with his hands.
And that’s how it came to be that I found myself last night, a wee bit tipsy and texting him to demand his presence for my satisfaction (after a bit of flirtatious banter, of course). And after all was said and done, he left me wanting to make him my sex slave. I used to think my ex was good until Music Man showed me otherwise. Do I dare say he’s the best I’ve ever had, or is too soon and too cliché?
Hi, I’m Maid of Cheek and I am addicted to Music Man. But in a good way.
She Will Be Loved
I found out today that someone said some very hurtful things very publicly today about one of my best and truest friends. I was distressed to hear it, as there’s a whole situation behind it and even thought that situation is pretty awful I hate to see things taken to a place where this person feels the need to rip my friend, we’ll call her Lola from now on (hope she likes it), to pieces by preying on her insecurities and supposed flaws. It’s difficult when this other person is supposed to be a friend to me as well, but I feel our friendship is hindered by her failing to be honest with me and often dismissing my feelings and not listening to me.
So Lola had a bad day, and I hate that. I love her very much and don’t want her feeling bad about herself because someone took out their hurt and frustration in a poor fashion. Therefore, I am dedicating my post today to making sure she has a bright spot in her day and feels very, very loved — too loved even.
Dear Lola,
You are fantastic. I don’t know what I did to be blessed with the amazing friends that I have, and when I think on that you are one that I always count in that number. Even when I’m feeling a little jealous of how amazing you look (seriously, don’t lose any weight because I will appear even larger than I already do by comparison), I want to be around you and have fun with you.
You’ve made some mistakes and things have gone badly, but who hasn’t? You’ve handled it all so well and I hate to see other people continue to punish you for it because you’ve been punished enough, especially with the grace that you’ve found in your move to get past all of it. You don’t deserve to be hurt the way that you have. Don’t believe a single word anyone else breathes to the contrary.
You are talented and beautiful in so many ways. Your wit is tough to match and your grammar is impeccable. You are so loving and kind, I am so grateful that you always try to make sure I know you like me. You are gorgeous and sexy and I love that you share my appreciation for knowing how to work a pair of heels. You have such amazing passion and you always seem to know how to take a mess and turn it into something sunny. Your hospitality is something I’ve come to appreciate so much with how often I end up on your couch, and how readily you’ll share your wine. I love that you are so fiery and refuse to apologize for the person you are, your new independence has made that even fiercer and you seem to know yourself even better — making you even sexier somehow. It’s been great to see you like that, and so much easier to accept the terms it comes with that way.
I could go on, but I fear becoming repetitive. Just know that I find these and so many other things about you reason that it’s so easy to be around you and be your friend. They are reasons why I want to be your friend and reasons I am so happy to be your friend.
I don’t even remember how we first bonded or how we first started discovering how much we have in common, how alike we are. Was it as seamless as it now feels? I almost feel as if we were always meant to have each other and understand each other. I never feel ridiculous telling you about whatever is in my head, because I never feel judged or feel like you don’t care because it’s silly. I’m often amazed that you let me ramble on the way I do about the strange things going on in my brain. You never downplay my feelings, you always validate me and accept me for me.
Thank you for being the way you are, for being who you are. I will love you and be your friend no matter what happens to us and no matter what we do. I found this note I wrote about/to you in my journal the other day and I will leave you with it:
Just move to Europe with me and we’ll visit Paris, Prague, Venice, etc., on the weekends and live an idyllic, romantic life. Filled with adventures of our own making and laugh enough to make it the only reason we might cry. You and I, my dear, could live care-free if we were together and far away.
But I know as well as you it won’t fix anything. Perhaps we’d be happily, blissfully ignorant for a stay before we became restless and started looking for meaning or someone to care for and be loyal to of the opposite sex.
Just remember, my love, you and I will always need each other. I will need you, anyway. You and I being so parallel and fluid. I think we could clash and recover easily because with some exceptions we are the same and will understand each other forever. I know you because I know myself, in a way.
No one could wreak havoc with me the way you can. We’re the same kind of crazy, so we can communicate in the same language.
I love you fiercely and loyally, always.
Always,
Your Maid
