I’m Home!

Ladies, I have so much to catch up on!  The piles of papers on my desk, the cleaning, the e-mails, the phone calls, reading your blogs, MY BLOG!!!  Hell, your sassy Esme even won a blogger award…and I promise I will get to that soon!  But for now…

I am home.

And, I am sad about it.

I was at Loverboy’s for five weeks. FIVE!  Me, the one who prides herself on her love of independence.  The one who always said she will never be domesticated again.

I am a woman, so I can admit I ate those words.

I really enjoyed the fact I got to see him every day, even if it was just an hour before I fell asleep.  I loved the fact I got to sleep next to him every night.  I loved that when I was able, we cooked together.  I loved that he taught me to play Call of Duty, and we would play for hours on Saturdays.  Basically, I just loved being there.  Being with him.  A part of his normal, every day life.

Sure, we got into arguments.  And I was at fault for most of them.  Did I mention I can be hot-headed?  Out-spoken?  Fiery?  If Loverboy didn’t know that prior to my staying there (and I guarantee he knew), he quickly found out.  And I am ten times worse when I am in pain.  Anyways, even though we got into Esme-induced arguments, we never went to bed angry.  After I oh-so-maturely stormed into the bedroom, he would give me a few minutes to compose myself, then come talk to me.  And so I could save face, he always apologized.  What??  A guy that is even-keeled, calm, and collected??  Say it ain’t so!!  

As I healed, and as the pain receded, Loverboy grew quieter.  You know, Esme, I am glad you are better.  I want you to be better.  But I am so sad you are leaving soon.  I nodded my assent, and agreed that it was sad.

And it was.

I felt like we broke up.  I packed all the shit I brought over.  Put it in Loverboy’s car so he could drive me home.  He helped me unpack at my place, then he hugged me.  A very long hug.

I know I’m going to see you again, he said, but I just can’t help feeling like I’m losing this great piece of you!  I loved having you at my house.  I loved knowing you were waiting for me.  And it sucks it won’t be like that anymore.

FUCK!  Was I getting emotional?  This isn’t me!  NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!

Yeah…I was.  I felt the same way.  I have slept like shit since I have been home, my bed feels too big.  I’m eating dinners alone again.  I think about him all of the time.

What can I say…I’m an Esme in love.  And no, I haven’t told him yet.

In other news…

I finally got to start physical therapy on my shoulder, and I couldn’t be happier!  I can’t wait to be able to work out again.  I can’t wait to get my toned body back.  I have been looking into gyms and workout programs that will help me regain my strength.  I can’t go back to firefighting until I can function 100%.  So far, Crossfit is in the lead.  Of course, I am still four or five months away from being able to do anything intense-damnit-but I am preparing all the same.  By the time it is all said and done, I will be out of work for over a year.  That is how ridiculous workman’s comp is.  A whole fucking year.

Also…check this shit out.

Everybody remembers Mr. Hottie, or M.  How can you forget?  Ours was quite the sordid affair!  The last you heard about was him asking me to sleep with him one last time.  Of course I turned him down, told him he needs to respect me and my decisions, and he agreed.

So what happened?

He turned into a stalker.

Every other day, for a few weeks, he would text me.  The texts revolved around me giving him one more night, him asking for naked pictures, him sending me naked pictures, etc etc etc.  The first few I would text back, asking him to please leave me alone, as I am very happy with my relationship.  He started to get more aggressive, so I resorted to threatening police action, and telling his fiancée.  I finally told Loverboy about the texts, since I would want to know if the situation was reversed.  Did I ever mention to you that Loverboy is some kind of internet sleuth?  That man can find out anything about anyone.  He found out who M was, found out where he worked, who his fiancée is, and anything else you could imagine.  I asked him to please not get involved, but I never asked him to promise.  See where this is going yet?

The texts from M finally stopped.  FINALLY.  I assumed it was the threat of his fiancée finding out.  (I actually didn’t have her info…but M didn’t know that).  After all, their wedding is scheduled for May something-or-the-other.  One day I mentioned to Loverboy that the texts from M had stopped, and I was happy about it.  Of course they stopped.  He knows we have his fiancée’s phone number.  I stared at him, and he couldn’t meet my gaze.  I was going to say something, but I decided against it.  I let the comment pass, and changed the subject.

I was PISSED for a short amount of time.  Absolutely fucking pissed.  How dare he involve himself in my problems?  How dare he fight my battles?  Once I started to calm down, I realized that he did it to protect me.  It really bothered Loverboy that I was receiving those texts, and understandably so.  No matter what I said, M would continue to text.  I couldn’t get him to stop.  Loverboy succeeded where I failed.  Was it ideal?  No.  Was it effective?  Absolutely.  I haven’t gotten a text in three weeks.  Thank all that is holy.  It’s not my problem M passed on the best thing he ever had.  Now I have to find a new mechanic.  Fucking damn.

As always, there is more to tell.  However, my shoulder dictates when I must stop.  So until next time…

Love, Esme

Reason #358 Why I Keep This Blog Anonymous

Despite all of the legal issues I have going on, a lot of other things have been happening in my life as well.  I have debated writing about this for quite some time, because it greatly shows my weakness.  But, there is a reason I don’t tell people about this blog…I want to be able to share all of my experiences, triumphs, and downfalls.

This is both a downfall, and a triumph.

I know that Carmen is out there rolling her eyes, saying What the hell did you do, Esme??

Save the eye-rolling, honey…you will need it later.

My truck has been having some major issues.  MAJOR.  It needs several thousand dollars of work, and I can’t afford it.  M has been doing it for the cost of parts.  Despite the relationship M and I may have had, we are still able to maintain an adult friendship.  He works on my car, I take him out for a drink, and nothing happens.  I go home to Loverboy, and he goes home to his fiancée.  It has been working well.  (For me at least)

Until the last time I saw him.

After he did some work on my car, in the freezing cold, he invited me inside so we could discuss cost and warm up.  This was not an unusual request, so I had no problem following him inside.  I bent over in the entryway to take my shoes off, and when I righted myself M was standing directly in front of me.  You should take your coat off, Esme.  As he said this, his hands found the top of my zipper, and he unzipped my coat.  M, what are you doing? Stop.  M backed off, and conversation turned back to my truck.  Not too long later, he put his hand on my cheek.  I’m ashamed to admit that it sent an electrical shock straight to my nether region.  E, I can’t stop thinking about you.  I literally can’t get you out of my fucking head.  One more night.  Just give me one more night.

I was speechless.  He took my lack of a response as approval, and he kissed me.  A kiss so filled of passion I got wrapped up in it.  Visions of our nights together, naked bodies glistening is sweat, the feel of his hands on me, the pleasure that derived from those nights.  It all came crashing back, the memories I fought so hard to bury.  I leaned in and gave myself the moment.  But only for a moment.  I put my hands on his chest and pushed him away.  He moved, but not much.  He kept his left hand on the back of my neck, his right arm around my waist.  He pulled me closer and whispered in my ear.  Tell me you want me to stop.  Tell me you don’t want me.  He kissed my neck, my ear, his hands roamed.  Christ, he was seducing me.  Literally fucking seducing me.  And I had to muster up every ounce of my internal fortitude to say I want you to stop.

M let me go and stepped out of arms reach.  He cocked his head to the side as his beautiful green eyes searched mine.  You are really turning me down?  You have never said ‘no’ to me.  Do you really have feelings for this guy?

I explained that I did.  Strong feelings.  And I was in no way ready, or willing, to fuck it up.

You love him.

What?  No!  OK, maybe.  Maybe almost.  But that’s not the point, M.  You had your chance.  TWICE.  And you let me go both times.  You fucked up, now you live with the consequences.  All you will have is memories.  No more, no less.

M nodded, his mouth set in a grim line, and returned to business.

We finished talking about my truck, no further mention of what transpired between us.  We made plans for me to bring my truck back after my surgery, since I won’t need to drive much until then.  Before I left I made sure that we were OK.  I like M as a person.  I am not sure about his thought process sometimes, but I enjoy the convos we have together.  I enjoy spending platonic time with him.  And I like the fact he works on my truck for free.  (Out of guilt?  Out of misguided affection?  Who knows, who cares, but he has saved me so much money.  I don’t want that to stop!)  M assured me that we were fine, he just didn’t expect me to say no.  I was pretty miffed by that statement, and told him to explain himself.

Esme, for as long as I have known you, you haven’t been like other women.  You were always about personal pleasure and satisfaction.  If either of us were dating, we still would get together for some mind-blowing sex.  It was without fail.  One would call, the other would come.  You have been able to separate sex from emotion like no other woman, or man, I have known.  I misunderstood, or underestimated, your feelings for this guy.  I truly did.  And that is my fault.  I didn’t expect it.  I KNOW you want to have sex with me.  I could feel it in you.  But I now know you won’t.  The last thing I would ever do is hurt you.

I took in what he said, and let it marinate for a minute.  If it validates you at all, I said, I did want you.  I DO want you.  But there is no way that I am going to give up the happiness I have with Loverboy for a few hours of carnal pleasure with you.  I really like this guy, and I think it has lasting power.  He treats me so incredibly well, and I will not abuse his trust, or his feelings, in me.  Especially not for you.  I can’t, and I won’t.  And you either need to accept it, or you need to leave me alone.

M said he accepts it, and reiterates that he will do nothing to hurt me.  I don’t feel it necessary to tell him he already has, because I don’t think he needs to know.  He brought up memories I no longer want.  And I spent several days thinking about us, when I have spent almost no time on it for months.

And I am fully ashamed to admit that for a split second, or four, I actually considered giving into my libido.  But I didn’t.  And I am oh so very happy I didn’t.  It’s not something I could have ever taken back.

And part of me can’t help but thinking SELFISH PRICK!!  Well, most of me is thinking that 🙂  The nerve.

Love, Esme

Oh Boy…

OK, so notwithstanding the Year of Esme…I saw M.

But wait!!!  It’s not what you think!!  With hold judgment for just a second…

I got a random text message from him yesterday afternoon.

M: I’m home now.
E: OK.
M: I need you to bring your truck to me.
E: NO.  (I was dead against going.  M and I had some conversations, that I alluded to, that were not good.)
M: It has a recall.
E: How bad of a recall?
M: Tire fall off kind of recall.  3 minutes then done.
E: Fine (everyone knows when a girl says fine…it’s anything but fine!)

So I finished what I was doing, and made the drive out to his place.  I got out of my truck, he fixed what was needed, and he was done.  We did not exchange words, we did not hug, we did no communicating what-so-ever.

E: Thanks, M.  Have a great day. (I said this as I was climbing into my truck).
M: *mumble mumble mumble*
E: What did you say?
M: *mumble mumble mumble* (he was across his garage).

Well shit…I just HAVE to know what he is saying., because I’m that kind of person.  And he knows it.

E: What the fuck are you mumbling about?
M: How does someone do that??  (He is referencing an issue he is currently having with some whore from time past.  Not worth getting into.  And why does he feel the need to confess to me??)

We had a small discussion on the indifference and audacity of whores these days (I hope you all get the sarcasm there).  Then he turned to me and said:

M: I really cared for you.
E: Whatevs.  It’s done.  I’m sure I was nothing in the grand scheme of things.
M: You weren’t nothing.  I never said that.

Here was when I walked away.  I know he is a complete douchebag.  I know he does not have the ability to be faithful (although he swears up and down he was with me).  I know what he is like when no one is looking.  And realistically, I don’t want any part of it.  My heart is having a little bit of issue with that statement, however.  But I walked away because I didn’t want to do the whole bitchy emotional talk.

I opened the door to my truck when I just snapped.  FUCK.  THIS.  GUY.  I slammed the door and I stomped back into that garage.

E: You know what, M?  FUCK. YOU.  Fuck you.  You told me so many goddamned lies, promised me so many things.  You keep changing the reason why you ended it with me, when it was nothing but your own damned insecurities.  You are back with your fiancee, you are already banging some other girl, and you have what you consider ‘whore’ problems.  You need help, you really do.  You are such a DICK!  And I let myself get involved in it!  And to think I fell in love you.  I am so fucking stupid.  But I am so glad we had this discussion.
M: I never said you were stupid, Esme.  I didn’t.  And you aren’t.  I did think we had something.  But I can’t do feelings.  I just can’t.

M reached out for a hug, and I backed away.

E: Don’t touch me.  You are not allowed to touch me anymore.  (I took a deep breath and gathered my thoughts).  Here is the thing, M.  You frustrate the ever-loving shit out of me.
M: I frustrate you?  How do I frustrate you??
E: Really??  You want to discuss all the shit we have been through the last three years?  ALL OF IT??  (M shook his head no.)  You frustrate me.  But I am going to be honest here.  I care about you, and I worry about you.  I like talking to you, because usually you make me laugh and feel better.  And I truly think you are supposed to be in my life in some capacity.  But you will never touch me again.  And if you can’t agree to that, we can’t be friends.  How I feel for you is my issue, and my issue alone.  I never want any of this to be brought up again.
M: It’s all good.

It was at that point I walked away, and didn’t look back.

Amazingly though, I do feel better about the whole situation.  I once again got to see what kind of person he is, and how fortunate I am removed from it.  I was able to be honest while maintaining a strong baseline.  Never before have I been able to do that with him.  I finally said everything I wanted to say, and he sat and listened.  And I feel a hell of a lot better now that I yelled at him.

He truly does need help.  He is a sex addict.  He has no regard for women.  He is on a destructive path.  He swears up and down he never considered me a whore, or thought ill of me-and I told him I didn’t want to hear it, as his actions speak way louder then his words do.  And here is what surprises me the most-I’m OK if we never see each other again.  I really am.  If we can manage to rekindle the friendship, I will be glad.  But I will be just as glad if we never see each other again.

That is such a good place to be.

Love, Esme

Esme is back.

Do you ever just get so overwhelmed you shut down?  Because I do.  I am there with so many things.  Not with the custody battle (that shit is ON).  Not with the shoulder (because that will work itself out.  I’m not even worried about it).  But with some friends.  And definitely with guys.  Let me explain.

I have really struggled with the whole Sunday debacle.  And I am mad at myself for struggling.  It’s hard for me to throw away an 8 year friendship.  On one side, friendships do take work.  But on the other, and much stronger, side?  She NEVER should have done what she did.  Never should have involved friends.  Never should have stolen my meds.  Never should have involved my roommate.  Never should have done so many other things I never wrote about.  That friendship took so much of my energy, and time, that I didn’t realize how drained I was until I didn’t have to do it anymore.  I’m not going back there…I refuse…but I’m finding it kind of hard to let go fully.  All in time.

Men.  Men are starting to frustrate the crap out of me.  No, I take that back.  They have always frustrated the crap out of me.  However I am at the point where I just want to take a break.  Not a break from sex…pssssshhhhhh…I don’t break from sex.  But I’m done trying to date.  I had WAY MORE FUN when I was out for my own pleasure.  Let’s just recap for a second, shall we?

Why I hate trying to date:

1. Feelings.  I can’t stand feelings.  Fuck.  Them.  They led me to crying over M.  I ran my mascara and eye-liner for that douchero.  I have to say…that’s just not an attractive look for me.
2. Guys like Fighter, and guys like dude with 8 kids.  I want to vomit every time I think about how I had to shell over money for 3 out of 4 dates.  Or how guys can just fail to mention they run a home straight out of a Brother’s Grimm fairy tale.  That shit is just not OK.
3. Too much fucking energy.  I live life pretty unapologetically.  And I am realizing guys just don’t dig that.  I still didn’t apologize for anything, but I found myself pulling in the reins some.  And then I would get pissed off.  A dude should like me for me.  
4. The uncertainty.  I’m never uncertain.  But damn if some of the behavior I witnessed had me second guessing myself.  Again, just not OK.
5. Having to dumb myself down to talk on their level.  I say that, and I realize how it sounds.  I never acted stupid.  I didn’t start twirling my hair, popping my gum, or saying uummmm….like totally.  But I did find I had to use small words and talk like a kindergarten teacher when I explained the fundamentals of Relationship 101.  No, I’m not going to miss my kid’s soccer game to go watch you play golf.  No, I’m not going to let you do something sexually repulsive to me that I’m not comfortable with.  Yes, I am a big girl and can make my own decisions, like what I want to order for dinner.  No, I am not going to blow you in your car just because you bought me dinner.  Why yes, I am a very strong and opinionated woman, because I was taught to be vocal and say what I want.  (All you have to do is imagine me bracing my hands on my knees while I get on their level talking in a kindergarten teacher voice.  I really did this.)  Too much energy!!  Too much idiocy!!  Where do guys come from these days??

Now, let’s explore why I am going back to being my lovable Esme self:

1. I can do what I want when I want with whom I want.  ‘Nuff said.
2. I don’t have to apologize for anything.  Again, ’nuff said.
3. I can call who I want, whenever I want.  And amazingly enough, the response is better when I am dating someone.  Example #1:  Hey boyfriend, you should come over.  Can’t babe, sorry, busy.  Example #2:  You.  Me.  Sex.  Now.  I will be right over.
4. I’m a lot more satisfied.  And I’m not just talking sex, even though that’s the case as well.  I’m more satisfied because all I have to worry about is me, and my little family.  There is no one else to take into account.  I make a decision, and it doesn’t get questioned.  It doesn’t get argued.  It doesn’t get changed.  I wake up in the morning to the world I left the night before.  And I truly love that.
5. I’m in control of my own destiny.  Kind of ties into #4.  I have no one to blame, but myself, as I made my own decisions.  Likewise, I can take full credit when things go well, because it was all me.  I am 100% in charge of my life, and I don’t have to run things by anyone.
6. I am free to change my mind whenever I want, how often I want.  I never get bored.
7. I just truly enjoy my life more when all I need to do is live for me.  What does that tell me?  That I have yet to find a great guy who is worthy of me.  It also tells me that I am probably not ready for a committed relationship.  I’m so glad I can be honest with myself about this.

I’ve spent the last two weeks trying to figure things out with Sunday.  Figure things out with M (No, we aren’t seeing each other…but had a few convos that messed me up some…done with all of that, too).  Figure out where I was going wrong.

It all came down to the fact that I started to forget who I was.

I realized that with M, I tried to be the person he wanted me to be.  He didn’t love me, he loved what he thought I could be.

I realized with Sunday, I bent over backwards because I was afraid of losing the relationship I thought we had.

I realized that I was sacrificing parts of me I love because I didn’t feel like having to explain myself or my actions.

And it won’t happen any more.

What snapped me out of it?  A long convo with Jake.  Oh…how I heart him.

It seems the fates agree with my decision to bring back my sassy self.  Guess who I heard from today?  Ambulance Guy.  Yes…Mr. AG himself.  We have been out of contact for a couple of months.  Not on purpose, but life just took over.  He texted me today, and asked how I was doing.  We had some superficial conversation, which is how I like it if I plan on having a sexual relationship with someone.  Then he got right to it.

AG: I want to see you.

E: Yeah.

AG: I could go for a drink and sex.

E: And I could go for your hands on my body, your mouth replacing them.

AG: Shit…

E: I want to be unable to walk.  I want to feel you for three days.

AG: Sunday?  Please say Sunday…

He better come over on Sunday.

Medic has also been texting me lately.  I really enjoy being with Medic.  It’s easy, there are no feelings involved (at least on my end), and it takes so little thought its almost embarrassing.  But I’m wondering if it has run it’s course.  The last two times we planned on getting together, one of us has backed out.  I can sit here, think about our time together, and I get hot and bothered.  Holy shit we have some great sex.  But when it comes time for him to come over, I’m just not feeling it.  I will give it a few days before I make a decision on it.  I have a few things on my plate, so it could be just stress.

So there you have it.  Enough with the mushy and sad posts.  Enough with the stupid L-Word.  Enough second guessing and worrying and wondering and crying and everything else.

I’m back.

Bitches.

My only worry is where to stay for Vixens in Vegas 2012.

Love, Esme

The Goings-On of Esme

Do not only do I have the shoulder thing to deal with-which is nowhere closer to be resolved, I have so much more on my plate that should never be an issue. Oh so much more.

I never heard from the cop I worked with again, which I am ok with because of everything else going on. One day I will take the time to fume over the audacity of that duchero. But not now.

I am back in contact with M. Not to date, not to reminisce, and not to get laid. Because my car needs to be fixed, and I trust him. If course, the minute I saw him, I wanted to rip his clothes off. And he looked at me like I was lunch. But there was no touching, no impulse acts. I’m proud of us, but I did find I still love him.

So why did I mention M? Because of this.

Remember my girl Sunday? Drama has ensued, and I have no idea why or how. Sunday is going through a lot of shit in her own right. But this I can’t over-look.

She came over to visit one night, a night I was in a great deal of pain. It was over labor day weekend, and I wasn’t going to be able to refill my medication prescription due to said holiday. I had six pills left, and was going to need each and every one. After Sunday left, I went to take a pill. I only had two left in the bottle. Son of a bitch.

I didn’t know how to handle this. I stayed up all night with Will, discussing my options. Discussing my anger. Discussing my outrage.

It turns out I never had to discuss it with her, because she decided to cause more problems. She began texting Will, telling him I have a drug problem and I may be stealing meds. She also told him she was thinking about planning an intervention. Excuse me, deflecting much?? Of course, Will kept me appraised of what was going on. Why would he do that? Because he knows I have no problem, and he knows Sunday as well as I do…she can cause one hell of a problem.

Sunday did a great job of deflecting. She tried to cause problems between my roommate and I. (She failed to realize how close we are). She would text me and tell me ‘everyone is telling’ her I’m mad at her, quite a feat since I’ve talked to no one but Will about her. She was supposed to pick me up for a court appearance (my ex and I are back in a custody dispute) since I’m not driving. Sunday failed to show, and failed to call. I ended up having to drive and risk a DUI since I took medicine because she was supposed to drive me. I was pissed, but I was concerned about her. I called, I texted, I never heard back.

A few days later, Sunday had the audacity to text me, bitching me out for not trying to contact her when I know she is ‘going through a really difficult time’ in her life. Now I was just pissed. No more concern, just pissed. I reminded, as nicely as possible, that I tried to get a hold of her on the day she failed to take me somewhere after she promised. Then she started more problems.

She began trying to throw mutual friends of ours under the bus. Sarah said you were mad at me. I call Sarah, Sarah hasn’t seen Sunday, nor have I discussed Sunday with her. John said you said I betrayed you. I called John, John hasn’t seen Sunday since last winter, nor have I discussed Sunday with him. Then the worst one: M said you said you were mad at me. What. The. Fuck.

M did me a favor and worked on Sunday’s car for her, charging only for parts. (Remember that this is M’s business. He is a master mechanic, and normally charges a lot of money). He told her that the problem was so bad, it would take several times, and several things, to completely fix it. He did the first part of her car, and told her to bring it back in a few weeks. Instead of taking her car back to M, she took it to another mechanic, who charged her a lot of money. Money she now wants M to pay. Make sense? Doesn’t to me either.

I called M after I received that last text. The first time I had talked to him since we went away for that night. I had no previous knowledge of the car issue they had.

Why the fuck would I say anything about you? You have nothing to do with your fucked up friend. I would never say anything like that. And I haven’t even talked to you in weeks.

There was a time I would have believed Sunday over M, but lately that its not the case. After many false accusations against other friends, after the stealing of my meds, after not showing up to take me to court knowing I’m not supposed to drive, after accusing me of not caring even though I tried to contact her because I wad worried about her mental health…after the many times I have dropped everything I was doing to go pick up one of her kids or take care of a kid during a medical issue or dropping what was going on in my life to listen to her problems…I’m done. I can’t keep doing this with her. She accuses, I figure out she is lying, and the cycle continues. And all of this started because she was trying to deflect the fact she stole my pain medicine. She needs help, but right now I can’t be the one to give it to her. I’m hurt. I need a break. And I need to let go of my anger.

And Sunday decided to do all of this when I am in pain and trying to get my surgery approved. When I am in the middle of a very heated, very nasty custody battle. Nope, I can’t focus on someone who injects poison into my life. I need positive.

Love, Esme

Music+Memories=Not Always A Good Time

This week hasn’t been a great one.  And the awesomeness of it was cumulated yesterday when I found out the my surgery has been postponed.  The surgery that took weeks to schedule.  Why was it postponed?  Because workman’s comp failed miserably at doing their job.  Absolutely fucking miserably.  Apparently there was particular paperwork to be filed, and my original adjuster dropped the ball.  So while she is being investigated, they have to re-investigate my claim.  So basically it has to start all over.  Fucking phenomenally awesome.  Am I the only one this shit happens to?  I just want to go back to work!!!!!

Now back to my originally scheduled post.

I am one of those people who puts music to memories.  I doubt I am the only one out there who does.  Music can make me feel happy, sad, enraged, content.  A certain song can open an absolute floodgate of memories and emotions.  Some are welcome, some are not.  A lot of time I will associate a memory with what is playing on my iPod when a particular event happens.  Sometimes a hear a song and I could have written it word for word based on an event that happened.  Sometimes there is no good reason as to why a song reminds me of something that has happened.  And I seem to like the word ‘happened’ today.

I was listening to my iPod when this song played:

I’ve posted this song in the past.  It reminds me word for word of M.  I cried for the first time over him in weeks.  And I think I needed it.  I have been asked out on a number of dates recently, and I have turned all of them down.  M still occupies too much of my heart.  I know that if I do date someone right now, I won’t give the date a fair shot.  I’ll just keep enjoying my Medic time thankyouverymuch.

The only other guy I ever cried over was Perfect.  We had a tumultuous relationship, which you can read about by clicking his tag.  The feelings I had in that relationship were exponentially worse than they should have been, given the fact it was the first relationship after my divorce.  I listened to this song to make me feel better:

But soon after, I was listening to this one:

When I finally am lucky enough to meet my Mr. Right, this is the song that will have to be sung to him (not by me, as I am a horrific singer.  But by someone else for me):

This next one I dedicate to my ex-husband.  If it weren’t for all of the shit he put me through, I wouldn’t be the person I am today:

This song reminds me of my grandmother:

I dedicate this song to all of the men that have dicked me over-LOVE IT.  Listen to the words, and you will see why:

Every time I hear this song it gets me in the mood for a little bit of Medic:

I fell in love with this song after watching Ladder 49 (which almost made me quit the academy!).  When I had to fill out the department ‘In case you die in the line of duty’ paperwork, I only had two requests: an all female honor guard and this song.  This song reminds me of the sacrifice of those before me (personally and professionally).  And it gives me solace that I am being watched over:

There are so many songs, so many memories.  I leave you with just one more.  So often I am told by well-meaning friends that if I just change a little I would have better luck with dating.  What they fail to realize is this-the last time I compromised myself, I wound up in an abusive marriage.  I will never again change anything.  I will never hide anything.  I very much love who I am.  I am perfect:

Much love,

Esme

Oh The Pain.

Horrible, unimaginable pain.

• I gave birth to two kids without epidurals.  That’s right, this bitch did it naturally (except for a small dose of narcotics with one).  I didn’t cry.
• I had a skin graft procedure done, where the donor skin was taken from my thighs.  It hurt so bad I crumbled to the floor when I tried to walk.  I didn’t cry.
• After one of my children I had to have an emergency procedure done in my uterus.  Pain meds had not kicked in.  I screamed once or twice, but I didn’t cry.

Two nights ago my shoulder popped out, yet again, but this time it did not relocate properly.  Not only did I scream, I cried.  I cried like a little bitch.  Horrible, gut-wrenching sobs for a pain I had never felt before.  I called my doctor.  I am not sure he understood one word I said, but he told me to go to the ED.

I tried calling everyone I knew.  My girl Sunday had taken a sleeping pill.  She was out.  Most of my friends are on the same firefighting schedule, and they were all at work.  And as a firefighter/paramedic, I just could not call an ambulance.  This just simply is not done.  (Fucking ree-tahrd-ed, right??  I can’t explain it.  You just don’t.)

I called my last resort.  M.  He tells me he still loves me, and now it was time to step up.  And I was incredibly desperate.  M, please.  I need to go to the hospital.  Please.  I can’t drive, and I have tried everyone else.

Response?  I’m tied up.

I whispered I hate you and hung up the phone.  I immediately received a text that said: I’m so sorry.

I never responded.

I pulled myself together the best I could, and I drove myself to the hospital.  My roommate met me there when he got off work.  (I have yet to introduce you to my roomie.  I don’t think his hetero status is guaranteed, so I will name him Will.  He actually calls me Grace.  *eyeroll*)

I spent four and a half hours in the emergency department.  I was properly medicated, fixed, and sent home.  I have an appointment with a surgeon tomorrow.

I don’t hate him.  I hate me for loving him…and in my warped mind it is just easier to hate him.  I hate the fact I was desperate and needed to call and ask for help.  I hate the fact I stooped to his level and told him I hated him.  I hate that it hurt when he turned me down in my moment of need.  But it told me everything that I needed to know.

Fucking DONE.

I just wish the shoulder was done.  *sigh*

Love, Esme

I Was Curious. So Shoot Me.

I was going to preface this entry with a don’t judge me clause, but fuck it.  I’M judging me.  Sooo…do what you must.

So when it came to M, and the now infamous phone call, I did what I needed to do to make myself better.  I cried for a day (or two).  I drank a whole bottle of red wine and cussed him out to whomever would listen.  I hurt my shoulder again (don’t knock it…it took my mind off of him!)  He hasn’t been the first thing on my mind when I woke up in the morning.  Definitely still not thinking about dating, but I was better.

Until…

A couple of days ago, around noon, my phone rang.  M’s name popped up on my screen.  I had really struggled with deleting it, but I didn’t.  I told myself it was in case I needed my mechanic down the road.  I can talk myself into just about anything…it’s a talent…

So I answer the phone.  Hello?  No answer.  Heeellllloooo?  Still no answer.
E:  M, I know it’s you.  Why are you calling me?
M:  I have a favor to ask you.
E:  So ask (I figured it was going to be the money I owed him for the parts for my car).
M:  Never mind.  You won’t do it.
E:  Why don’t you ask, and then I will tell you if I will do it or not.
M:  It’s OK, forget I asked.  Just go do what you were going to do today.  I will figure something else out.
E:  JUST TELL ME WHAT THE FUCK YOU WANT!
M:  I have to go to XYZ to pick up a truck I bought.  And I was wondering if you want to go with me.

Silence

M:  I will pay for everything.  Food, gas, a room if we can’t drive anymore.  I thought I would ask you, we could drive and talk.  But if you don’t want to, I understand.
E:  Ummm…I’ll go.
M:  You will?  OK, I will call you in an hour.

I hung up the phone and contemplated what I had just agreed to.  It’s a nine-hour drive.  One-way.  Before I could get too far into those thoughts, M called again.

Esme, is this something you can do?  Will you be OK being in the car with me, being around me?  I don’t want things to get worse between us.  But I would like to see you.

I assured him I will be fine, and that this is mostly fueled by the fact I really needed something to do.  Being stuck in my house with one good arm and pain meds isn’t as much fun as it sounds.  Shocking, I know.  I think I would have gone with the Devil.  And I was wondering if that was what I was indeed doing.

I packed a small overnight bag, just in case.  I drove to his place, pulled into his driveway, and took a deep breath.  This is just a trip with a friend.  This is just a trip with a friend.  This is just a trip with a friend.  My car door opened, startling me out of my centering-my-chi rant.  I looked up at the intruder, and a pair of light green eyes were smiling down at me.  M helped me out of my truck, then grabbed my bag from the back.  He directed me to his car.  I stopped and stared at the front seat, working up my courage.  Esme, are you alright?  I assured him I was good.  I got in, buckled up, and we set off.

We fell into conversation very easily.  We talked, we laughed.  The silences were not uncomfortable, but relaxing.  We talked like we haven’t since we met each other.  I asked about his family, and we talked about mine.  We talked about our childhoods.  We talked about politics and religion. We talked about a friend of his that has been cheating on his girlfriend for months.

E:  Do you think C is going to go straight?
M:  He says he is.
E:  Do you think you could go straight?  (I was teasing when I said this…smile on my face and all.  I know it isn’t something to tease about, but the situation is just fucked up.  I have to laugh about it).
M:  I doubt it.  I think about you all the time.

I couldn’t respond to this, so I kept silent and looked out the window.  M put his hand on my leg, and we drove in silence for a bit.

E:  I was really surprised to hear from you today, M.  Even more surprised you asked me along on this little trip.
M:  I’m surprised, too.
E:  Are you glad, too?
M:  Very much so.  I knew we could get along.  I knew we would laugh and have fun.  And I am glad I got to see you.

Occasionally the talk would come back to us, but it was never anything heavy.  It was truly just an easy-going drive.  We stopped for dinner and joked about how we looked like we were on the edge of Deliverance.  We laughed when a man in his sixties tried to pick me up.  A small disaster struck when I was walking out of a gas station. Someone slammed the door in my face-I thought they had seen me and would hold it open.  NOPE.  I put out my arms to avoid getting my nose broken, and my shoulder popped out.  DAMN…I knew I should have worn my sling.  I yelled out and doubled over in pain.  M heard me and ran over from his car.  He tried to help me stand, but fuck if he didn’t grab the wrong shoulder.  He inadvertently popped it back in, causing another yelp of pain.  Since I wasn’t going to have to drive for another four hours, I took some pain medicine and relaxed while he drove.

We finally picked up his new truck after the 23 year-old barely dressed hottie he bought it from tried to cause drama.  Small tangent here:  When I was 23 I wore clothes, and didn’t offer sexual favors for money.  But I digress.

By the time we hit the road, it was after one in the morning.  My shoulder was hurting me, I was tired, and we were still seven hours from home.  I finally texted him:  I need to stop.

After some back and forth, I agreed to drive another half hour to a college town, where hotels would probably be cheaper.  We found a small place, and I fell into bed fully dressed.  M stripped down to his boxer-briefs (way sexy, might I add), and climbed in next to me.  I made no move toward him, even when he put his hand on my hip.  Are you alright, E?  I told him I was, that I was just exhausted.  I wanted to turn around, and take cover under his arms.  But I didn’t.  Instead I climbed out of bed and put on my pajamas.  I got back under the covers, my back toward him.  His hand found his way back to my hip.  I sighed, and snuggled further into the bed.  He wrapped his arm around my waist and slammed me into his chest.  I wiggled to make myself comfortable, and that was the kiss of death.  I don’t need to write what happened next.

The next morning we got up, showered, dressed, and headed out on our way.  An hour into the drive we stopped for breakfast/lunch.  After we ordered our food, I took a deep breath and dove right in.

E:  Soo…what happens next?
M:  I don’t know.
E:  We really crossed a line last night.
M:  I did?
E:  No, we.  I could have said no.  I didn’t.  I’m just as much at fault as you are.
M:  This is true.  I don’t know what’s next.  I know I love you.  I know I want to spend time with you.  I am just having a hard time making it work.
E:  You made so many promises to me before.  And none you delivered on.  I have to wonder if you have been telling me what you think I want to hear, or the truth.
M:  Do you think I lied to you?
E:  I didn’t say that.
M:  I don’t need to lie to you to get sex.  I can get laid if that’s what you want to hear (he was angry).
E:  I put my hands on the table, leaned forward, and got in his face.  I just wanted to know if what you said was genuine.  And this is a hell of a lot more than just sex to you, so don’t you DARE sit there and tell me that it’s JUST.  SEX. I can get laid just as easy as you can.

M looked at me for a long minute, measuring my reaction.

M:  You’re right, Esme.  It isn’t just sex.  It’s a lot more than sex.  And that is what makes it so hard.  I want to have more time to spend with you.  I want to do things with you.  It hurts me when you ask when I can see you again, knowing I have next to no free time.  I thought it was better if I just cut you out all together.  It didn’t work.  What is it you want?
E:  I want you to not call me tomorrow and tell me you can’t do this anymore.
M:  I won’t.
E:  And I want no more promises, unless you intend to keep them.
M:  I understand.
E:  And I am not saying I am down with this anymore.  I’m not sure I can do it.  I like having you in my life.  I like that we get along.  I like the way I feel when I am around you.  But I also liked that you WEREN’T around all the time.  I liked that I could have my own life without you.  I liked that you don’t question what I am doing.  I was OK with all of it.  And you killed it.
M:  I know.  I still can’t promise you time.
E:  I know you are busy.  That was never an issue.
M:  How about this.  What if we just take it as it comes?  What if we can just agree to be relaxed about it?  Take a ‘wait-and-see’ approach?
E:  As long as you know that I won’t sit around and wait for you.  I’m not waiting for you to call.  And I am done waiting for you to figure out your shit.  If you can understand that, then we are all good.
M:  I do love you.

I just smiled, and finished my meal.  I love him, too, but I couldn’t tell him.  I’m not sure if he caught that or not.

M:  I still want to take you out for that dinner.  As long as you want to go.
E:  We will see.
M:  And you know you still owe me for the work I did on your car.
E:  I am not paying you for that.
M:  What?  I don’t think I heard you right.
E:  Yes you did.  I am not paying you.  I cried over you.  NOT PAYING.
M:  Is that how it’s going to be?  I do work on your car, then you cry so you don’t have to pay?  I see how it is.
E:  Glad we have an understanding.

We finished the drive without incident.  By the time I drove his new truck into his driveway, I was in tears.  My shoulder was so incredibly painful.  He loaded my bags into my truck, and gave me a long hug.

M:  I am so glad I asked you to come.  And I am so glad you went with me.  I had a great time.  I truly did.

I was in so much pain that I could do nothing but give a half-smile.  I didn’t even say good-bye. I left and drove straight home.  After I was properly medicated, I texted him and apologized for my bitchiness.  I also told him I had a great time as well.

His response?  You’re not, and I’m glad.

That made me smile.

Well…shit.  Just…shit.

Love, Esme

This Just Hurts

I have tried repeatedly to write this post.  I have tried being snarky, I have tried being funny, and I have tried being blase.  It hasn’t worked.  I don’t know what else to do but be honest, and pour my heart out.  This post is more for me then you all, but you are definitely welcome to read along.

Two year ago, almost exactly, M walked into my life.  The gorgeous tall, blond-haired green-eyed Adonis walked into my life.  He walked in, sat down, and has been there ever since.  We dated for a short time.  When I was injured in the line of duty, he was the reason I ate twice a day.  He would come over and carry me to bed.  He saw to my basic needs without complaint.  He made me smile.

A couple of months into it, I stopped hearing from him.  It hurt, but not worth crying over.  I moved on.  30 days later, I got an unexpected phone call from him.  An ex was pregnant, I didn’t deserve him dropping me like that, could we please go out and talk about it.  Etc etc.

I don’t think we ever actually ‘dated’ again, but a few months later we started a sexual relationship.  But it was different than any other FB I had.  He would show up at my door at night and tell me to get dressed-we are going out.  He would take me to dinner, and not come in afterwards.  When we went out, his eyes were on me-even though he was constantly hit on.  He fought a guy in a bar who grabbed my ass.  We were, for all intents and purposes, dating.  But neither of us would admit it, and neither of us were faithful.  Neither of us wanted to be.  I was newly divorced, I had no desire to be tied down.  He was 27, and he was much more into the playboy lifestyle.  It was a perfect match.

Eventually, both of us started dating.  Him, the girl he became engaged to, and me a plethora of boys.  In the beginning of his relationship with this girl, he was unfaithful.  And that was with me.  I didn’t date anyone seriously, so I was doing who, and what, I wanted to.  The tide turned about 8 months into this.

He told me to not go on another date.  Please E, he said, just give me some time.  I want you, you belong with me.  Let’s figure this out.  That was the last thing I wanted-or needed-to hear.  I didn’t want to belong to anyone.  I didn’t want to wait for anyone.  I wanted to live my life and have fun.  I brushed him off.  Conversation over.

Our ‘meetings’ became few and far between.  I continued to date, he continued to struggle with his relationship.  One night, when we did meet up, he threw this out at me: I’m thinking about getting engaged.  I just feel like it’s the next step.  Unless you can give me a good reason not to.  For some reason, that news affected me, but I didn’t know why.  I told him he shouldn’t do it unless he was sure.  Then I let the matter drop.  I spent no time exploring that feeling.

Our time together became non-existent after that.  I had no desire to mess around with someone who was wanting to get serious with someone else.  Time passed, we talked some, but didn’t cross paths until it was time for me to move.

I brought my car to M, and he did some work on it.  I couldn’t keep my eyes off of him, and the heaviness out of my heart. He caught me staring a few times, and would just give me a knowing smile.  We went inside for a drink when he was done, and of course the conversation steered toward us.  You know, M, I am sure going to miss you.  He came over to where I was sitting, and put his hand on my cheek.  I think this is SUCH a personal move, and a tear ran down my cheek.  He leaned in and kissed me, and then we had some good-bye fun.

Throughout my absence, we would occasionally talk and text.  When he let me know he got engaged, it was like a knife through my heart.  I didn’t know what to do with that feeling.  I never expected to see him again, so I pushed it to the side.  I congratulated him, and I braced myself to never hear from him again.

I didn’t hear from M for months,  and then the texts started up again.  I’m guessing right around the time he realized he made a mistake in getting engaged.  When are you coming for a visit?  Any chance you are moving back?  When I knew I was moving back, I let him know.  Was I warning him?  Was I warning myself?  What did I accomplish by telling him this?  I could have not told him, come back, and just lived my life.  Maybe I should have done just that.

A couple of months before I moved back, I came to visit for St. Pats.  He caught wind of my visit, and tried to get me to see him.  I was so conflicted.  I wanted, with every ounce of my being, to run to him.  But I didn’t.  I don’t know why, but I didn’t.

So I move, and one of the first people I tell is M.  But I don’t see him until I have car problems.  When I do see him, I am shocked.  I have NEVER seen him so unhappy.  It’s like the light went out in him.  It broke a little piece of my heart.  I hated to see him like this, and I called him on it.  M, what is going on?  This isn’t you.  Why are you so unhappy?  M smiled sadly, and told me he wasn’t unhappy, but he was just living.  Surviving.  There was no point in arguing.  He didn’t want to hear it, and I was wasting my breath.

We started seeing each other again.  I wrote about this, we all know it.  One of my concerns was getting dragged into his unhappiness.

His unhappiness with his life lead to my heart-break.  It lead to the I can’t do this anymore.  It lead to You are such an amazing, special person, and you don’t deserve what I am doing to you.  It lead to When I am with you, it is just magic.  And I need to figure this out.  It lead to I didn’t know I felt SO STRONGLY for you.  It also lead to I am so incredibly unhappy with my life, and I didn’t realize it until you came into my life and mixed it all up.

I sat and listened to him with tears running down my face.  Please don’t cry, Esme.  I am not worth your tears.  Is this what you want?  Really?  Look what I asked of you!!  Why were you OK with this?  I feel like such a SHIT for putting this on you.  I should have dealt with my shit before I EVER talked to you about any of this.  I thought I could have the best of both worlds, but I can’t.  I need to figure out my life first.  And I need to do it without being pulled so many directions.

All I could do was sit and listen.  What do you say to this?  No, I’m not letting you leave?

E: You know, M, that my biggest regret was not fighting for you when you started dating the fiancée.  I am so angry at myself for not responding when you told me how you felt.  I am so mad at myself for not telling you how I felt when you told me you were engaged.
M: Why didn’t you?  Why didn’t you tell me?
E: Is there a good answer for that?  I wasn’t ready for it.  I also thought you were unobtainable.  Out of my league.
M: I don’t get why you thought I was unobtainable.  I wasn’t.  I just needed to hear it from you, and I didn’t.  You left, I never thought I would see you again, so I moved on.  I did what I thought was the best thing.

(As I recounted this convo for my mom, she got so angry.  He should have fought for you harder, instead of settling.  That’s what he did…he couldn’t have the best thing in his life, so he settled.  Gotta love moms.)

E: Don’t put that on me, M.  Just because I left doesn’t mean you had to get engaged to someone you didn’t truly want.  Don’t do that to me.

We talked a little more.  Well, he talked and I cried.  All he did was reiterate everything he had already said.  I couldn’t listen to him anymore.

E: Is all of this happening because I never told you I love you?
M: What?  No!  Esme, I know you love me.  I can see it in your eyes.  Your smile.  Your touch.  I’m not lying when I told you that you are special.  That I love you.  You never had to say it.  Because I knew.  And you know that I love you.  You know this.  Please tell me you know this.

I nodded my head.  I do know.

M: I just have to figure this out.  I have to figure out what is good for me.  Christ, E, I am thirty years old and I have nothing figured out.

I said OK.  What else can you say?  I said everything that was in my heart.  I let him know how I felt.  There is no mistaking where I am coming from.

Later that day I received a text message from him: I do love you.  Don’t give up on me.  Ever.

I spent two days crying on and off.  I am angry at myself for feeling like this.  I have so many doubts, because ingrained in my very existence is the fact guys lie.  And play games.  M knows this about me, and I got a random text message yesterday: You are not unlovable.  The problem lies with me.

My girl Sunday is pretty unsympathetic.  Did you really think this wouldn’t happen?  Did you expect him to make you happy?  Go date and find someone else.

Not what I want, or need, to hear right now.  And she was not the only one to tell me to go date.  Let me say right here, right now-I DON’T WANT TO FUCKING DATE RIGHT NOW!!  The thought of dating makes my stomach turn.  I am not going to date when my heart clearly belongs to someone else.  Don’t tell me to date.  Please.

And I don’t need the negativity.  I am fully aware it was a fucked up situation.  As much as I tried to be casual about it, I felt myself getting sucked in.  Before I went into it I KNEW I had strong feelings for him.  What did I expect?  I don’t know.  Maybe I expected to right the wrong from all of that time ago.  Maybe I felt that, even though I lost him, I could still have him in a small way.  Could still have him in my life.

What do I think will happen?  I think his sense of family will lead him to go into a marriage he doesn’t want.  If I hear from him again, I think it will be down the road, after he is so fucking miserable that he will be looking for a distraction.

Of course, it all seems so easy to me, or to anyone that may be on the outside looking in.

Godammit I love this guy.  How do I deal with this?

A Broken Heart

Yesterday…I saw the love in M’s actions.  For the first time, with my own eyes.
Yesterday…M held my hand while I had a painful procedure done.
Yesterday…M let me use his strength while I leaned on him and slept.
Yesterday…we finalized plans for a romantic night this coming up week.

Today…M told me he can’t do it anymore.
Today…M told me he couldn’t give me what I deserved.
Today…I have spent all day crying, not realizing why this has hurt me so bad.
Tonight…I have realized I have the capacity to love.  And I never want to feel this hurt again.

Love, Esme