Curvebomb

Curvebomb is a sexy beast.

Curvebomb is where it’s at.

Curvebomb laid her hands all over a tiny Spaniard last night.

Curvebomb might be a little bit drunk right now.

Curvebomb might be secretly awesome right now.

Curvebomb might love all of her friends right now.

Curvebomb might love all of her family right now.

Curvebomb might be blogging right now.

1900 yards in da pool today:

500 Free

4 x 200 Alt. IM/Free

500 Free

100 kick

Dinner at grandpa’s

Now time to compare red wines with dad. 

Every time I learn something new about the void that once was mine, I break out in a sweat.  My heart races and I am panicked.  I make poor choices when this happens.  For instance, today, the person he had an emotional affair with became facebook friends with his sister. 

In my head, that can mean only one thing: my worst fears have been confirmed.  This is when the panic grips me, and I today I crossed a line.

I asked his sister about it.  I put her in an uncomfortable position.  He is her brother, after all, and she cares for him (as she should).  His sister probably does not know, however, about how this woman’s husband came knocking on my door late at night to find her and the Ex, because he was convinced they were having sex.  This happened less than two weeks before the Ex ended things.  She probably does not know about how this woman “tested” the Ex and I at a party several years ago (when everyone was drunk) by reaching into our personal spaces and pinching each of us hard enough to cause pain and bruising.  The sister does not know how excited the Ex got every time he talked about this “friend”.  About how this friend manipulated him into driving her to work every day.  About how, when we went out to a bar with this woman and her husband, he immediately turned his back to me and reached in to her personal space to pick a piece of fuzz off of her cheek.

There are a million other little details just like that, taunting me with the 20/20 vision of hindsight.  At the very least, even if no physical cheating occurred, the Ex had left me emotionally months before he ended our relationship.  As my old man says, “If it walks like a duck, talks like a duck, and has feathers, it’s a duck”.

It is hard to be patient.  It is difficult not to paint my picture of today with the colors of the past.  It is painful to be cut out.  It is hurtful that when listing reasons for ending the relationship, the Ex could think of nothing that was his fault.

But

It is a blessing to be free of someone who so undervalued my worth.

Kelsey[out]

It is currently 4:10 in the morning and I feel like I’ve been backhanded back to square one.  I’ve been stretching my tendrils back across my past, partly to make sense of how I got here from there, and partly to remember who I used to be.  It only makes sense that I would be back to where I started six years ago, procrastinating until four-in-the-morning and attempting to pour my heart out into a blog.  And playing KOL.  And making occasional bad decisions (but they’re so exciting!). 

I never thought he would leave me.  I thought he was a sure thing.  I think he had himself convinced, too (otherwise he would never have spent that money on a ring).  I have so many questions that will never be answered.  The last time I communicated with him it was like facing a glossy white wall; if you were feeling nauseous, this blank white wall would be so polite, so unassuming, so unoffensive, that you could look at it when everything else made you feel sick.  What I mean to say is, he gave me nothing of himself.  My experiences from thence out were sterilized, and I was left smelling of antiseptic.

If you are a baby monkey in one of Harry Harlow’s famous experiments, pulled from the soft comforts of your mother and left to cling to a chicken-wire surrogate, you will suffer from what the experts call a “failure to thrive”.  In fact, you will wither and waste away, and if by some miracle you do survive, you will never be able to have a normal interaction with other monkeys.  Never.

This is all a bit drastic.  Part of me is clinging to the cold white wall for dear life, wishing that the chicken-wire politeness-wall will melt and I can fold into the softness, tenderness, the scent of his skin, and the man I loved will reappear.  The man who let me stay asleep on the couch while he made the bed at two in the morning.  The man who couldn’t wait to show me the flowers he was surprising me with when I came back from out of town.  The man who bought me the biggest, most beautiful diamond he could afford even though he hated diamonds but knew I loved them.

But I know, I Know that this is just a desperate pipe dream of the heart.  The wall is smooth and unyielding.  And quite honestly, I would not take him back.  Because the man behind that flawless barrier has demons he has never faced, and likely never will.  He is trapped on the other side of that wall, running desperately from the fears that make him spectacularly dysfunctional.  As long as he is working so hard to stay one step ahead of his nightmares, he will never have enough of himself leftover to share with another person. 

And I deserve better.

Kelsey[out]