Took my daughter to local mall today, went ape over Thomas The Tank (my daughter, not me) and the Barbie castle/tent (again, my daughter, not me... pink really isn't my colour). Went to next, went ape over several of their jackets (me, not my daughter) and we both had the same tastes in style and colour... only thing lacking was cash. Arse.
One Whinnie The Pooh comic & PC mag later, we're off to Porto Lounge (daughter, aged 4) demanded it - she has good taste; she loves it, I love it, so we had a cracking hour spent chilling with coffee, bowl of chips, juice & choc milkshake. Best day I've had in bloody months, just being able to relax, get out and spend some easy quality time with my gorgeous little girl. Very special.
And decided that really, now, after years of shit and heartache and crap, that women really aren't all that worth it. I've joined the happy ranks of the broken hearted and failed marriage assemblages, met who I thought, and if truth be told, my idea woman and generally got fucked over through a combination of mutual neurosises with total shut out from that person ever again.
So I'm figuring, why bother? They ain't gonna make me happy, they're not the answer, seldom is there shown any emotional honesty (one of my big issues these days) let alone maturity. So what gives?
Unconditional love sucks; I still get hurt, get shit on and still I can't help loving someone and there's no return and I'm supposed to be mature and cool enough to 'let them go' if I truly love them, even if they do things to me which cause no end of suffering and pain. Where's the logic in that? That's just plain masochistic behaviour wrapped up in pink fluffy thinking and it's just plain wrong.
Don't get me wrong, I love my children and even my cat unconditionally because they know no different and they accept me for who I am. But when it comes to affairs of the heart, when someone walks into your life and you get that WHAM! of emotional overkill for the other person.... that's when it all goes Pete Tong. You add being dumped in the most ikkiest way you can think of, and it becomes one big mindfuck.
It's three months since I got fucked over - I still can't get my head round how I'm supposed to feel; the grieving is still going on, one minute anger, then blame/guilt and all the other processes involved but just what the fuck am I supposed to do with it - I'm angry but I still love the person, but I'm terrified of her now, of the chance of meeting or seeing her again.
And I've got to try to get it into my head that actually, when it comes down to it, I'm still an okay person, plenty more fish in the sea... yadda yadda yadda. But the point it, I don't want any other fish, I want her, and it'll never be.
Okay, I'm in the zone, definitely time to sleep, without a doubt, but the battle has already begun between mind and body over what I should be doing now; sleeping or being 'deep, meaningful and introspective'.
It doesn't matter either way; the yearning for her body next to mine, her eyes and smile staring at me gone forever still tear me apart. And it didn't mean a damned thing, y'know?
It hurts.
One Whinnie The Pooh comic & PC mag later, we're off to Porto Lounge (daughter, aged 4) demanded it - she has good taste; she loves it, I love it, so we had a cracking hour spent chilling with coffee, bowl of chips, juice & choc milkshake. Best day I've had in bloody months, just being able to relax, get out and spend some easy quality time with my gorgeous little girl. Very special.
And decided that really, now, after years of shit and heartache and crap, that women really aren't all that worth it. I've joined the happy ranks of the broken hearted and failed marriage assemblages, met who I thought, and if truth be told, my idea woman and generally got fucked over through a combination of mutual neurosises with total shut out from that person ever again.
So I'm figuring, why bother? They ain't gonna make me happy, they're not the answer, seldom is there shown any emotional honesty (one of my big issues these days) let alone maturity. So what gives?
Unconditional love sucks; I still get hurt, get shit on and still I can't help loving someone and there's no return and I'm supposed to be mature and cool enough to 'let them go' if I truly love them, even if they do things to me which cause no end of suffering and pain. Where's the logic in that? That's just plain masochistic behaviour wrapped up in pink fluffy thinking and it's just plain wrong.
Don't get me wrong, I love my children and even my cat unconditionally because they know no different and they accept me for who I am. But when it comes to affairs of the heart, when someone walks into your life and you get that WHAM! of emotional overkill for the other person.... that's when it all goes Pete Tong. You add being dumped in the most ikkiest way you can think of, and it becomes one big mindfuck.
It's three months since I got fucked over - I still can't get my head round how I'm supposed to feel; the grieving is still going on, one minute anger, then blame/guilt and all the other processes involved but just what the fuck am I supposed to do with it - I'm angry but I still love the person, but I'm terrified of her now, of the chance of meeting or seeing her again.
And I've got to try to get it into my head that actually, when it comes down to it, I'm still an okay person, plenty more fish in the sea... yadda yadda yadda. But the point it, I don't want any other fish, I want her, and it'll never be.
Okay, I'm in the zone, definitely time to sleep, without a doubt, but the battle has already begun between mind and body over what I should be doing now; sleeping or being 'deep, meaningful and introspective'.
It doesn't matter either way; the yearning for her body next to mine, her eyes and smile staring at me gone forever still tear me apart. And it didn't mean a damned thing, y'know?
It hurts.