The sun is bright today, and it’s very quiet out here in the countryside. Exish is working around the property, doing this and that. The girls, (Pepper and Jez, his dogs), are running around, right behind him, and the cats are inside with me. I’m listening to Guns N Roses through my earphones…very low volume…just so I can hear enough to sing along.
Exish was asleep on the couch when I woke up this morning. I sat in my chair and watched him sleep for the longest time. His face looks nothing like the boy I married. It’s weathered and hard looking now. His body, broken down after thirty years in the oilfield. I love his hands. They are rough and calloused…the hands of a hard working man. As I watch him, I’m taken with love and desire and pain…so much pain. I reached over and brushed the hair from his eyes and watched him a bit longer before waking him. When I did, I acted as though I had just gotten out of bed. Can’t let the wolf know what the lamb has been up to…
I ‘met’ a man online yesterday. His messages were frightening. I could see that his words were carefully chosen and meant to leave an impact. They did. I liked it. Because I can be frightening, as well. And, I was. I can’t help but laugh as I think about it. When engaging someone in a conversation geared specifically to cause intimidation and fear, never underestimate who you are…engaging. I learned the art of creating fear from my stalker, M, many years ago. I endured four long years of it. But he never once knew how afraid I was of him. In the end, he was the one afraid of me. Suffice to say that I don’t do ‘victim’ very well, and I’m exceedingly patient when I need to be. If you’re going to fuck with my life, you’d best not slip up, even once. If you do, I’ve got you. Game over. For M, it took four years. He was very good at what he did. Top of his game. But even the best can falter. Lucky for me. VERY unlucky for M. lol!
In any case, this man wants to meet. Admittedly, I was somewhat taken by his demented and twisted manner of chatting online. However, after talking to him by phone, I find him rather irritating. As it turns out, he is a very ‘safe’ person. I do appreciate that in a man. It’s a great quality. But in contrast to who he presented himself as, ‘safe’ was a huge letdown. He reminded me of a hall monitor…somewhat of a tattle-tale. You know? I expected to hear something else in his voice when he answered. Instead, he sounded fearful. It made me feel bad. I coddled him for a bit to reassure him that I wasn’t scary and I knew he wasn’t, either, etc. Out of nowhere, he began to swear that he’d never stalk me, or otherwise insert himself into my life uninvited. He said he had no desire to have the sheriff show up at his door, cops all over the yard in front of the neighbors. WHAT??? It was as though he had actually experienced the situation. THAT was a type of creepy that I could not top, nor did I have a desire to. I explained that he would never have the opportunity to force himself into my life, anyway, because ol Margaret, (my trusty pistola), was always on duty. lol! Shit! What is wrong with people??? “Why, yes, I’d love to meet, date…make love to you. But, when it’s over, I may have to kill you.” Again…SHIT!
Yeah…I’m at a low point. Seems like I’m not doing much of a job at picking myself up, either. It’s pathetic. I hate myself for it, but I’m feeling really low on strength, emotionally and physically. I just can’t seem to get it together. And I’m 48 years old. That’s pretty fucking old to be such a hot mess. My diet has gone to Hell in a handbasket since Exish has been home. Even when we get along, I’m nervous all the time when I’m around him and eat a lot more. My hair is falling out again and I just feel bad. I finished off another bottle of whiskey. I’ve been living here since the middle of April. Since then, I’ve consumed more booze than I have in the last ten years, altogether. Granted, that wasn’t a huge amount, anyway, (I stay on top of my drinking issues), but it’s too much for me. I have to nip this in the bud. I can’t go out like that. It’s so typical of someone in my gene pool. I come from a long line of highly functional alcoholics. And, like I said in a previous post, I seem to have managed to pass those genes on to my youngest son. So, there is no way I can drop the ball on this one. How can I help him if he knows that I’m a drunk, too?
Exish and I are going to move furniture around today. It’s time to get things settled a bit more…decorate…nest. I actually love this little house. It feels like an apartment, which I LOVE, and has a decent layout. It’s perfect for one person, great for two. I’d like to redo the bathroom some time in the near future. I want a huge soaking tub. The way the plumbing is situated, it would be just a cosmetic redo, so it wouldn’t be too hard on the budget. But it’s okay the way it is. I should just be happy with that. I never feel settled. I’m always thinking things could be better. In all fairness, I have had to move from a giant house into a one bedroom loft, basically. I think I deserve just one perk…Right? 🙂
I just wish I had a real partner in life. A man who has never hurt me, and never would. I’m not one of those people who gets stuck on how ‘hurt’ they are or have been. But I don’t like living with the memories. I don’t like that the lies and betrayal changed me. Yet, I can’t change back. I don’t even remember what I was like before. Not really. I know there were years, when the boys were little, that I was as happy as I’ve ever been. I kept a beautiful home, had lots of friends and family over all the time, had amazing parties. My children were happy and our house was always buzzing with the sound of children playing. It was just so…fun. And meaningful. Traditional. Loving. Those are things I barely relate to anymore. I feel so uncertain of where I should go from here.
Well, I should get going. I’ve rambled on about myself long enough…saying a whole lot about nothing.