Archive | December, 2011

Comfortable Enough To Share? Yes!

20 Dec

I had a horrible night last night. Just horrible. I had another OP hearing today (it got continued again) and I was stressed about it. I found out my drug-addict-alcoholic-girl-beater brother got his brand-new girlfriend pregnant. And I found out my grandma had a stroke and isn’t expected to make it. So…not a good night.

Loverboy called me last night about 10:30 to see how I was and to say goodnight. He could hear in my voice that I was not ok. I deflected his questions, not really wanting to talk about it. I’ve told him enough about the craziness in my life, I was afraid to tell any more.

Loverboy talked me into coming over for an hour or two, and I was desperate enough to get out of the house that I made the two minute drive.

Once there I avoided talk about why I was having a shitty day. He finally grabbed me around the shoulders and pleaded with me. Please, Esme. Please just tell me what is wrong!

So I did. I did my best not to cry. I buried my head into his chest and poured out my story. He held me, ran his fingers through my hair, and listened without interruption. Afterwards, all he said was I wish I knew how to make it better. And I wish I knew what to say. If there is anything I can do, please let me know. I smiled and let him know he did it already. I just needed him to listen. And he did it.

And I felt much better.

We have plans to go out this Wednesday, and it turns out I will see him most of the week. I’m pretty excited about it. Ugh…I’m getting pretty gaggy…

As I was leaving Loverboy said to me: Just want to let you know that I canceled my online profile.

Okay, I said.

Oh! I canceled mine, too!

I think we just told each other we were committed in geek speak…

Love, Esme


All In A Nights Discussion

19 Dec

A few things happened with Loverboy the last couple of nights that have me thinking.

The other evening he was out shopping for Christmas, and his car wouldn’t start.  Loverboy called me and asked if I could come rescue him.  As I was driving to pick him up, I was shaking a little bit.  Why, you ask?  Prior experience.  When my ex-husband was stressed, when things weren’t going the way he planned, he would take it out on me.  Call me names, throw things at me, take his aggression out on me.  It was never fun, obvi.  So I was worried at how Loverboy would react.  And I wasn’t sure I wanted to be a part of it.

When I pulled into the lot, across from his car, a big smile was on his face.  He gave me a big hug, and thanked me for coming out to help him.  He tried starting his car a few more times.  I could tell he was frustrated, but none of that frustration turned on me.  NONE.  I asked if I could make a suggestion, and he told me of course, E.  Why would you even ask?  I told him we should jump his car, and go from there.  We did, and it worked.  Loverboy gave me a big kiss and told me I was his hero.

The next morning I took him to the auto store to buy a new battery.  On the drive there, I thanked him.  I thanked him for not getting mad at me, for not yelling at me, and for not blaming me.  E, only a child would have blamed you for that.  The battery dying is in no way your fault.  I stayed quiet, not really trusting myself to talk.  Let me guess, a certain someone would have acted that way.  I nodded, and thanked him again.  Then I changed the subject.

I was telling Will about the experience.  When I finished my story, Will shook his head and said: It’s really sad that I need to tell you this, Esme, but the way Loverboy acted was NORMAL.  Normal.  100% absolutely normal.

Huh, go figure.

I spent the following night with Loverboy.  In the quiet dawn of the morning, a morning after some glorious amazing sex, he said You know, you come across as this super nice person.  I lifted my head off his chest and cocked my eyebrow at him.  Wait, wait…let me figure out how I want to word this before I continue.  Yes…why don’t you just take a minute there and figure that one out.

L: You are this amazingly sweet person.  You are great to me!  But I have to admit that I was nervous to have sex with you.
E: What?  Why would you be nervous?
L: Well, in my experience, the super nice girls are the ones who generally don’t enjoy sex.  Lights have to be off, they just want it done and over with.  Don’t touch me there, that hurts, no I don’t want to do doggy-style kind of sex.
E: Is that why you keep your eyes closed a lot during sex?
L: Yes.  Nothing really to see.  Anyways, I was worried you were going to be one of those people.  Imagine my surprise when you are yelling out things like ‘Pull my hair’, ‘Smack my ass’, and ‘Harder, faster!’
E: *laughing* Well, what is the point of having sex if you aren’t going to enjoy it?  I’m not a prude, I enjoy having sex, and I really enjoy it with you.  I won’t ever hide that fact.
L: No, never do that!
E: Now let me tell you…no more keeping your eyes closed during sex.  I am a very visual person and I like to watch.  And I want you to watch me.
L: Are you serious?
E: Absolutely.  And feel free to bend me over the bathroom sink so I can watch that, too.
L: I think you may be perfect.

Let me tell you…I didn’t think sex could get any better with him…and was I wrong!

Later that day, as I was getting ready to leave, Loverboy showed an insecurity.

L: I’m waiting for you to realize that I am not good enough for you.
E: Why would I ever think that?
L: You have a college degree.  You went back to school and became a firefighter/paramedic.  You talk about things that I know nothing about.  You are smarter and better than I will ever be.
E: Oh, Loverboy…my college degree got me nowhere.  I have never used it!  I’m currently not working because I am still waiting for shoulder surgery.  I hurt myself bartending for crying out loud.  But you…you were dealt with kind of a shitty hand when you were a teenager.  Instead of running away, you manned up and took responsibility for your actions.  You proved you were a good man!  You know more about politics then I could ever hope to know.  We have very intellectual conversations.  I don’t ever want you to feel that you aren’t good enough.  EVER.  And if I ever make you feel that way, you need to call me on it.  Because it is not intentional.
L: I guess so.  I guess you are right.

I am not quite sure on how to take that last conversation.  He constantly tells me how good I am to him.  I tell him I treat others the way they treat me, so if I am good to him it’s because he is good to me (I don’t think I could use the word good any more times in one sentence!).  I hope he can let go of this insecurity…I can only imagine what kind of problems this could cause.

Love, Esme

Heard The Last Few Days Part II

15 Dec

L: What are you in the mood for tonight?
E: How about some Italian?
L: Mmm…I so love the way Italians taste.
E: Oh.  My.  God.

L: You are amazing.  You always know what to do and say.
E: I have no idea what I am doing.  I’m just going with what feels right.

L: You are so sweet.
E: Goddamn do I have you fooled.

E: Do you think there will ever be a day that I don’t want to jump you as soon as you walk in the door?
L: Good lord I hope not.

E: Loverboy, that is a nice shirt.  It looks so good on you!
L: It will look even better on your floor in about fifteen minutes.
E: Hahaha!!  You so went there!
L: I can’t believe I just said that.

L: What are you doing on Christmas?  Do you have your kids?
E: No, this isn’t my year.
L: I don’t have mine either.  So do you have plans?
E: Nope.
L: Then that settles it.  You will come with me on Christmas.  You can meet my family.

OH GOOD LORD.  Stress!!!

Love, Esme

My Blog…And I Need To Get It Out.

11 Dec

I’m sitting here in my cozy house, protected from the outside elements, and I finished a book that made me think.  And made me panic.

It’s a book about a paramedic’s experiences.  As medics, we all have stories that we think would make good books.  We see the absolute best in people, and we also see the absolute worst.  So bad, other people can’t imagine.  And what do we get for our dedication and sacrifices?  We get punched, vomited on, kicked, scratched, cussed at, and God only knows what else.  I’ve been called a cunt, a whore, a fucking bitch.  My kids lives have been threatened.  I’ve been caught in the middle of gang cross-fire.  I’ve almost been tased.  I’ve missed out on holiday celebrations, school meetings, and first goals.  And I loved almost every minute of it.


There are those calls that haunt my memory.  And I know I have mentioned them before.  But that is what they do…they haunt me.  I will forget for a long time, and then I will be assaulted by memories.  Memories that can knock the breath out of me.  Visions that can bring me to my knees.  The smells, the screams, the terror on patients faces.  It all comes back.

While certain visions will never fade…the details do.  And that makes me panic.

I will never forget the brain matter oozing out of the fracture in the skull.  Or the two shoes laying on the pavement over 50 feet away.  The way the neck swelled, inhibiting any chance I have of getting a viable airway.  The arm that was shattered.  The femur fracture.  The slight movement of the head when the brain stem said it was time to try to breathe.  The rhythm on the monitor that told me this poor patient was still alive, still feeling, still fighting to live.  The absolute despair I felt knowing the patient was dying a very slow, very painful death.

And there wasn’t shit I could do about it, but remember his/her name.  Remember he/she was a person that may have had a great life.  To remember him/her so I could remember I did everything I could.

And I was forgetting his/her damn name!

I had to remember…if the name went completely into the recesses of my brain, I would never get it back.  And I need to think of him/her every once in a while.  Because maybe no one else does.  I was the last person my patient saw.  Maybe he/she looked at me as his/her last hope in the world, and I let him/her down.

I was frantic…I pulled out old newspaper clippings and subpoenas.  I was rocking back and forth in my office, muttering to myself.  I sounded, and looked, crazy.  But I had to find it.  I had to remember.  Someone needs to remember this person.

I found it, and I sighed with relief.  I stared at the name for a long time, going over every second of the call that was slipping from my memory.  I remembered some things I had forgotten about, and it honestly made me feel better.  I did do everything I could.  I pulled out all the stops, threw every ounce of ammunition I had at my disposal.  The patient was never going to make it, and I knew it from the second I arrived on scene.  So why did this one haunt me?  I’ve seen hundreds of deaths, of people dying.  If it can happen, there is a good chance I have seen it.  So why this one?

Because before the eyes closed one last time, the patient looked at me.  No, not even at me, but into me.  And all I could do was look back.

Those are the times I get haunted.  When I am the last thing anyone sees in this world.  I have to believe that we cross over, that our souls go somewhere else.  It is not an option for me to believe once we leave here, that’s it.  Something else needs to be waiting for them, and for us.

I know someday, I will forget the name altogether.  And maybe then, it won’t matter if I do.  But right now, it matters greatly.  Because there are so many times I am left with just the visions, and it sucks.  I hate not being able to complete the whole memory.  So many times I never got a name.

An 18-month old whose parents poisoned him, and all I can do is hold him as he seized for his last few minutes on earth.  The mother whose screams grew louder the closer I walked to her, because she knew I was going to tell her that her adult child had committed suicide.  The desperation on a patient’s face whose husband has beat her.  The terror that was visible on a 12 year-old face when she saw my male partner walk into the room.  The way a three year-old ran up to me and held on for dear life, and would not let go.  The fear in my partner’s face when we were held at gun point.  The look on an addict’s face when they take too much and they overdose.  The reactions of new parents when their baby isn’t breathing.  The reaction of my partner when a baby isn’t breathing.  The grinding of bone when a two-year old hit by a car gets thrown in my arms, and I caught him by his fractured femur.

I have good visions, too.

A mother’s face when I hand her a new baby.  The relief when I yell out ‘I have a rhythm!’.  The joy when people realize their loved one is OK.

The bad far outweighs the good.

And we deal with it.  We are not trained, for it, but we deal with it.  And sometimes, we deal with it very, very crassly.

I laugh at things I should never laugh at.  I joke about things that should never be joked about.  And every single person does it in my position.  If you are ever privy to this side of me, don’t judge.  I do it so I can continue to help everyone else.

But I also remember everything I can.  Because everyone deserves to have someone remember them.

Love, Esme

Some Things MAY Have Been Said.

8 Dec

So Loverboy and I went out for dinner last night.  He was pretty reserved, and I finally got the courage to ask him what was wrong.  I was 100% sure it was me, and I wanted to get it on the table.

It wasn’t.

It was about his daughter.

Apparently, she was in an abusive relationship.  As far as he is SURE of, she isn’t in it anymore.  But he thinks she is still seeing him without him knowing.

This guy had run her off the road in her car, and sent her to the hospital.  He had her drive drunk.  He was verbally abusive, and she was in tears constantly.  Loverboy did everything he could think of.  Calling the police.  Threatening this douche’s life.  Forbidding her to go out with him.  She told Loverboy she broke it off, but he isn’t so sure.

Ever since Loverboy threatened douche’s life, daughter has closed off communication with him.  And he is worried.  I couldn’t keep quiet anymore.

I told him that he needs to grab their relationship by the reins, stop being a friend and start being a dad.  I told him that women who have been abused are more likely to go back, or get into another abusive relationship unless they get help.  Daughter is beautiful, but she has self-esteem issues.  That is another factor in her going back to him.  I explained how they break you, how they convince you that no one else will want you.  I explained it all.  And he sat and listened.

I told Loverboy that he needs to sit down and have a very frank talk with her…a come to Jesus meeting if you will.  I told him to use me as an example if he would like.  He said he just doesn’t feel like she will listen, and was wondering if I could be a part of the conversation, share my story with her.

I really hesitated.  I have only met her for a grand total of two minutes.  I said she would listen to him more than me.  He is her daddy…I’m just the lady who is taking his time.  But I did concede to tell my story if she doesn’t listen to him.  She has also started drinking heavily and blacking out.  This girl is running and hiding from something.  And Loverboy needs to find out what.

Well, that conversationchanged into what is going on with my life.  Loverboy finally asked me if I had some deep dark secret I was not sharing.  I assured him I wasn’t, so I gave him a very minimal background of what I was up against.  A mother-in-law that told me I deserved to get hit.  An entire family denying the abuse.  So many lies to count.  All because I didn’t want to stay home with the kids.  All because I went to school to save lives.  All because I wasn’t from the mid-west.  And yes, those are actually the reasons why all of the abuse happened.  All absolute bull-shit.

Loverboy listened, with his hand on mine.  He said a few times that he didn’t understand the ex’s behavior, and I told him it was a good thing he didn’t.  That if he did understand, I wouldn’t be dating him.  I still didn’t explain the abuse.  Just the aftermath.  I then told him this:

E: You know, I am really hesitant to explain to you everything that has happened.  I am afraid you will leave, and I don’t want you to.  I don’t want the shit my ex is doing to determine this relationship.  The OP got filed after I met you.  I didn’t meet you while I was going through this.  I didn’t want to bring you into this.  I understand this is really heavy.  I understand if you don’t want to keep seeing me.  I understand.  I do.

L: I understand.  I understand you want to see your kids.  And I understand that you feel unsafe and that you needed to do what you did.  But I’m worried for you.

E: Don’t worry.  I’m OK, I am.  I take it as it comes and I keep myself safe.

L: But that doesn’t stop me from worrying.  And if he ever comes after you, I will break his kneecaps.

E: No…please don’t do that.  All you need to do is what you are already doing.  Thank you for listening.  It means a lot.  I know you have so many questions.  And if there is something you really want to know, you can ask.  I will be honest and truthful.  And you won’t like it.  But if you want to know, you can ask.

L: I need to think about that, Esme.

After that convo, we went to bed.  This morning, Loverboy gathered me into his arms and held onto me.  He asked me to please be careful today at my hearing.  He said he was worried about me, and he wishes I would let him go.  He told me to please call him after it was over.

I smiled into his chest, and reiterated that I would be OK.  I told him again that I was, and still am, really nervous to share because I don’t want him to leave.  He kissed my forehead, and told me that his mom will love me.  He also said my ex sounds like an idiot, and my ex’s family lost a great woman.  I really hope he means it.

This WAS NOT a conversation I wanted to have with him.  I don’t want this negative cloud over our heads.  I don’t want my ex to determine the status of this new relationship.  But it went better than I thought it would.  I think talking about his daughter first helped open the lines of communication.

When I told Loverboy about what happened in court today, he asked me if I was still coming over tonight.

I think I found a great guy.  I HOPE I found a great guy.  Time will tell.

Love, Esme

*My case got continued for another two weeks.  I am still protected*

I Hate These Thoughts…

4 Dec

OK, it is that time of relationship again…time for Esme’s ramblings.  And, of course, this comes in light of something happening with the ex-husband.

My ex managed to fork over a fuckton of money for a new lawyer.  Yes, his parents hate me oh so much that I am sure they plopped down five figures to fight little ol’ me.  The date of my protective order hearing has been moved up to this week, and I am frantically working on my defense (I just needed a break!  Lawyer jargon has me cross-eyed!)

I told Loverboy a very small amount of what happened.  Just that the ex got a lawyer and moved up the case.  His response was He’ll need ten lawyers if he is going to beat you!  Sweet sentiment.  But I am really starting to wonder what I may have gotten Loverboy into.  And if it is fair.

My ex has run off a fair share of my dates.  In all honesty, there was never anyone worth continuing to date.  So as much as my ex has irritated me in that regard, it hasn’t royally pissed me off.  But this time, it WILL if it happens.

I haven’t been very forthcoming about my abusive marriage, which I have stated before.  Loverboy knows he was not nice, but that is the extent of it.  He hasn’t asked, and I have not offered.  A majority of the reason I have not is because I haven’t wanted to scare him or run him off.  Because as much of a problem I have had with the ex during my marriage, post-marriage has been a lot worse.  Harassment, veiled threats of violence, threatening to hide the kids…it’s all just bad.  These days it takes a lot for the ex to make me crazy.  It takes a lot for him to piss me off to the point where I see red.  It just takes a lot to get me riled where he is concerned.  Which is good and bad…good I am finally becoming accustomed to it, and bad for the same reason.  So when it comes to sharing, I just don’t feel the need to because I don’t often let it affect me.  But the problem is-when it does, it does badly.  And it is noticed by everyone.  I just don’t want to have to warn him of that possibility.

I also hesitate to share because this is my problem, not his.  I am the one that made the regrettable decision to marry him.  I am the one that has had to deal with the fall-out.  I am the one that has this cross to bear, so to speak.  And I am afraid to share that burden.  It is such a heavy burden.  I feel like it would be really unfair to make him take that on.

What guy would actually knowingly stick around with all of this drama surrounding me?  Honestly, I think it would be safer for him to turn and run.  I HATE drama.  I try very hard to get it out of my life…no more Sunday, the order of protection so I don’t have to deal with the ex, etc.  I kick drama to the curb just like I do trash on Monday.  But the ex keeps bringing it back.  Keeps depositing it on my doorstep.  And I just can’t completely get rid of it because of this damn judicial system!!

So I am scared.  I’m scared one day I will share and Loverboy will tell me it’s just too much to handle.  I’m scared to not share in case he is upset that I didn’t trust in him enough.  I’m scared that the ex will find out about Loverboy and cause so much havoc that Loverboy will have no choice but to walk away from me.  I’m scared that I am pulling him into this never-ending web of lies, deceit, abuse and unknown.  I don’t feel like it is fair.  But I also don’t feel like life is being fair to me!  I meet this great guy, who wants to get to know me, who wants to be around me, and fucking drama in the form of my ex starts pulling shit again.

I am really trying to not let life cause any problems with this.  When I see Loverboy, I try to forget about the drama, about the bad.  I focus on him, on us.  I smile, I laugh, and I try to be in the here and now.  And I need that.  But at the end of the day, I can’t help but feeling like I am being unfair to him.

He wants to go with me to my OP hearing, and I said no.  The last thing I want is for him to listen to my ex-in-laws badmouth me for three hours.

Am I being unfair?  Is it right for me to date Loverboy knowing what I am going to be facing for the forseeable future?  What if I really like him?  The ex and I have not been an item for SO LONG…why can’t he just leave me alone?  WHEN IS IT MY FUCKING TURN FOR SOME EASY-BREEZY??

Love, Esme

The Questions People Ask Google II

3 Dec

How can I impress a girl I just met and fuck her in the same day?  I am just going to take a big guess and say you are a wanna-be douchero.  Because if you were an actual duchero, you would already know how to do this.  But let me answer this question the best way I can: You either need to be an incredibly smooth talker, and make her believe your empty promises, or you need to meet a woman who is just down to fuck.  OR-and I’m just going to say it-you can be sincere and honest.  And one day you will meet a women who you love and will knock your fucking socks off in the bedroom.  Or kitchen.  Or stairs.  You see where I am going with this.

Why do I love fucking my ex-husband?  Probably the same reason why I loved fucking my ex-boyfriend.  It’s familiar, he knows just what you like, and it takes absolutely no thought.

Do I send an apology for drunk texting?  I do.  Seriously, I do.  Being drunk isn’t a be-all-end-all excuse, but your behavior following can set the tone.

I love basketball because? You get a question to ask Google, and this is the question??  I don’t know why the fuck you love basketball.  I can’t even get into it, and I love sports.  They guys aren’t good to look at.  And there is nothing to ogle when they wear those uniforms.  Try football.

How do I approach the next date after I’ve been stood up?  I truly hope you aren’t referring to the same person.  Because you don’t, is the short answer.  Unless his mom/kid/sister is in the hospital unexpectedly, there is NO REASON to get stood up.  ESPECIALLY in today’s technology-heavy world.  Do yourself a favor boy/girlfriend, and move on to someone else.  If you mean just in general, not every man/girl is a dick/bitch.  Each date deserves its own chance.

He thanked me for staying over?  It’s better then him handing you cab fare and telling you to leave.

I’m a drug addict and I falsely accused a workman of stealing my pain medication so I could call my doctor’s office and get more.  Not cool, dude/dudette.  As someone who has been on the flip-side of that coin (a friend stole my meds), that pisses me off.  BUT, I do realize it’s an addiction, and addiction is a disease.  Since you are able to admit you have a problem, take the next step and ask for help. I’m positive you will be happy that you did.

I shit on my girlfriend while having sex.  Now what?  Ah-hahahahahahahaha!!!  *deep breath*  Hahahahahaha!!  Is this for real?  Oh man…diamonds, diamonds, trip to Paris, and more diamonds.  But chances are you won’t be pounding the pussy anymore.  *wipes tears away*

What song do I dedicate to my ex-husband?  Not knowing what the status of your relationship is, this is a hard question to answer.  I like Jaron’s I’ll Pray for You.  Great tale of how he wishes her physical harm.

How can I get laid at college frat parties?  I can’t tell if this is a male or female question.  But as someone who went to college, and was Greek (A-Phi shout-out!),  I can tell you with 100% accuracy that getting laid at a frat party is not hard.  AT ALL.  If you find it even the teeniest difficult, get drunk (but not overly) and hang out until the end of the party.  You will get laid.  Oh yes…you will get laid.  You just can’t be picky.

I didn’t belong until he came into my life.  Oh honey…a relationship will never last if you aren’t comfortable with who you are in your life.  It just won’t.  A man should not give you a sense of belonging.  That makes you needy, and no one wants a needy girl.  No one else can make you hapy, or give you that sense of belonging.  You have to give that to yourself.

Lastly, there are so many questions about hurting yourself.  Please please please get help for this.  Destructive behavior is not OK.  Don’t suffer alone, and don’t suffer in silence.  Tell someone who can help!!

And for real lastly-enough with the drunk texting questions!  Just leave the damn phone at home!!!  Or, if you can’t, have one guy you designate as your DT recipient.  I’m totally guilty of DT’ing, and I have even managed to stop.  If you KEEP doing it, it means you WANT to do it.  Simple as that.

Love, Esme