Archive | August, 2010

My Apologies!

30 Aug

Dear Readers,

I am so sorry I haven’t been better about posting lately, and if my last letter was of the rambling sort.  A couple of days after I returned from Las Vegas, I wound up in the hospital.  What started out as a debilitating headache became a case of viral meningitis.  I was sent home yesterday, but I still feel like crap.  If what the doctor said is true, I am going to continue to feel like crap for the next two weeks.

A friend of mine, upon hearing I was sick, called and asked me if Vegas was worth the illness (a consensus among everyone is I caught it at the viral/bacterial cesspool of the world).  My response?

Hell yeah it was worth it.

Love, Esme


And I’m Back…

28 Aug

Dear Nice Guy,

Well, we are back from Las Vegas…and we had an absolute blast!  I have to say I think I really had the Vegas experience.

First off, I have to thank you for the fabulous time.  You were a great tour guide, travel buddy, and baby-sitter (the night I needed one ;)).  But I also wanted to thank you for not sleeping with me.  Yes, you read right.  We talked about it.  You admitted that you were VERY MUCH attracted to me sexually.  You said you want to sleep with me with every ounce of your being.  But you didn’t.  You like the way things are between us, you said.  And you aren’t quite ready to jump to the next level, not ready to know what the other side holds.  I do agree…I don’t want to lose what we do have.  And right now what we have works just fine for me.  We were still very affectionate toward each other.  Holding hands, kissing, hugging.  We slept wrapped up in each other’s arms.  And…it was awesome.

Now…as for fun in Vegas??  We made Vegas our bitch.  We hit it hard, and we went balls out for 4 straight days.  Bars, drinking, singing, drinking, dancing, tattoos (for both of us!), drinking, gambling, shouting, eating-did I mention drinking?  It was nothing short of phenomenal.  You have been to Vegas a number of times, and even admitted you have never partied harder than you did while with me.  Go big or go home, is what I say! 😉

We continue to talk once, sometimes twice a day.  We continue to send e-mails.  We are just the same as we were before, maybe a little bit closer…more comfortable.

We have decided the next trip is going to be to Mexico, sometime next spring.  I am keeping my fingers crossed that neither of us will be dating so we can actually go.  Who knows what can happen in the beautiful tropics…

Love, Esme


18 Aug

Dear Vegas,

I hope you are ready for this.  I am taking advantage of every waking moment, of every opportunity.  Of every slim opening of drinking, and even debauchery.  Oh yes, dear Vegas…I’m coming for you…

Love, Esme

Thoughts On Vegas Trip

16 Aug

Dear Nice Guy,

In 4 days we will be meeting in Las Vegas.  I can NOT wait.  We have been on the phone with each other everyday, discussing things we want to see and do.  I am not going to Vegas with any expectations.  I have decided to let the fates take me where they may.  What will happen between us?  What will we say to each other after nights of drunken gambling?  What will happen after a night of drinking when we tumble into bed?

Nothing may happen. I know this.  Part of me doesn’t want anything to happen.  I really like the friendship we have.  We are very comfortable together.  Doing ANYTHING could jeopardize that.  And I’m not sure I want to.

I also know something CAN happen.  Alcohol+sharing a room=endless possibilities.  I know when I see you feelings will come back for me.  I am not sure they will for you.  You keep talking about being friends and going and having a good time.  Which, I am totally down with.

OK, I realize I am rambling.  Here is what I DO know.  I know I really need this vacation.  I know I really need a ‘fuck-it-all’ time.  I know I need to let loose and do whatever I damn well feel like.  No regrets.  I’m going to Vegas, and I am going balls out.

Love, Esme

My Time With The Doctor

6 Aug

Dear Doctor,

I am back in Brand New State, thinking back to our last 5 days together.  It was interesting, great, eye-opening-to name a few adjectives. This could be a really long letter, outlining our time together.  From picking me up from the airport to you dropping me back off.  But there is no need to get into every detail.

What I will get into are the words that were said.  You took me out to a Greek restaurant.  (I HATE Greek food, but you love it.  I had the salmon anyways!)  We had really easy-flowing conversation which I was glad and grateful for.  As I said in a previous letter, we never spent a long amount of time together.  I was worried about it.  But I digress…back to dinner…easy conversation.  A lot of talking, laughing, flirting.  As we were walking out to the car you pulled me into your arms and tilted my head up so our eyes met.  Can I say something without it coming out sappy, you asked?  Say away, I replied.  Then I was floored:

Sometimes when we have sex, I really feel like we are making love.

I stared at you, my jaw dropped.  I felt the same way but would have never admitted it to you.  It was something I was going to take to my grave.

Really, I asked?  You do?

Yes, Esme.  I do.  I think you feel the same way.  I think I am in love with you.  No, I know I am.  I love you.

I continued to stare at you.  I looked into your eyes, searching for any hint of a cruel joke.  All I saw was raw honesty.  I put my hand on your cheek and you leaned into it.

Oh Doctor, I think I love you too.  I truly and honestly think I do.

You know Esme, if you would have stayed in Old State I’d expect us to be pretty freaking serious at this point in time.  And I want to ask you to be mine, but it isn’t fair to either of us, living so far apart.  We don’t see each other enough to warrant the exclusive talk.  But I wish we were having that talk.  I really wish we were.

We went back to your place and proceeded to make honest-to-goodness love.  I don’t think I have ever made love before.  I didn’t even care for my ex-husband enough to do that.  It was amazing.  The eye contact, slow moves, soft kisses.  You brushing the hair from my eyes, whispering words of love into my neck and my ear.  Me holding onto you for dear life, afraid to let you go.  Again, amazing.

The L-word wasn’t mentioned for another couple of days.  Not until we were driving to the airport.  So Esme, you said-with a smile in your voice and on your lips-I can’t believe you finally admitted you were head over heels in love with me!  If I recall correctly, I replied, you said it first.  So I did, you said.  So I did.  You put your arm around my shoulders and drew me in so you could kiss my forehead.

You got me safely to the airport.  You parked the car so you could walk me inside.  We hugged for a long moment and shared a kiss.  I’m going to miss you, you said.  I know, I’m going to miss you as well.

I wasn’t expecting a declaration of love.  I had a feeling it was there, but I never thought you would say it.  It doesn’t change anything.  We are still 3,000 miles apart.  You don’t plan on moving, and it will be quite some time before I decide to move again.  I’m not sure what, if anything, will change.  Or what could happen.  We are set to see each other again next week, during my original trip to Old State.  I am interested to see how it will go…

Love, Esme

On A Serious Note

6 Aug
“Domestic violence causes far more pain than the visible marks of bruises and scars.  It is devastating to be abused by someone that you love and think loves you in return.”-Dianne Feinstein

I know this post is off the track I ordinarily take.  Bear with me here.

I am a victim of domestic violence.  If you have read through most of my blog I have said as much a couple of times.  But I have never discussed it.  And it needs to be discussed for a number of reasons.  One, to raise and maintain awareness.  Two, because it has made me who I am today.

Hindsight is always 20/20.  The signs were always there.  The possessive way he would talk to me.  His body language toward me.  After the first hit I stayed-stupidly.  Thought I could make it work.  I didn’t want to be divorced.  This was the man I had pledged forever to, in front of God-family-friends.  I asked him to go to counseling.  He refused, said he had no issues with our relationship.  I went on my own, wanted to see if there was something I could do differently.

I eventually became so sick of the name calling and the pushing that I stopped having sex with him.  Wait-let me rephrase that-I tried to stop having sex with him but he forced himself on me anyways.  I endured this for a few years.  Hoping-hoping-hoping things would change.  Get better.  It didn’t.  It just got worse.  For so long I ignored the abuse.  I talked away the signs and symptoms.  This man told me he loved me! Surely that meant I wasn’t a battered woman…

Looking back, I can’t pinpoint what exactly drove me over the edge.  I literally woke up one day, marched out to the kitchen, and told him I wanted a divorce.  It didn’t go over well.  He cried, begged me to give him another chance.  I was done.  I tried for YEARS to get him help.  I don’t think he thought I would ever actually leave.

Our divorce was a long, drawn-out ordeal.  Cops were called, motions were filed.  I got to the point where I just wanted it to be over.  I wanted to be able to move on.  I wanted to get started on my new life.  I agreed to things I probably shouldn’t have, but I don’t regret it.  I got him to sign the documents.  I stood in front of a judge with my right hand raised and swore my marriage was ‘irreconcilable’.  When the judge signed under our names, I almost did a cart-wheel down the aisle.  I was FREE.

I have to say that I did have a brief moment of sadness.  I felt guilty about celebrating the end of what was supposed to be forever.  Then I realized he gave up forever when he called me a cunt-in front of my kids.  When he hit me.  When he pushed me into a wall while I held my then baby boy.  And all feelings of sadness disappeared.  Even my worst day without him is better than my best day with him.

I made sure to get help for myself.  My biggest fear is getting back into a relationship like that.  I went to a domestic violence support group, where I met so many wonderful women-just like me.  I started going back to church.  I talked about the abuse with friends and other caring individuals.  Each time I discussed it I became stronger.  Embracing the abuse made me confront the abuse.  Once I fully understood what I went through, I was able to heal.

I am not looking to forget my past.  Not looking to completely recover from it even.  I don’t think you can.  It is a part of who I am.  I am not ashamed of it.  It hurts my heart when I hear other stories of abuse.  It isn’t a sisterhood anyone should be a part of.  But, unfortunately, there are many of us out there.

Love, Esme