The Ex Fag-Pilot Revisited, thank god, praise allah, now is the future

October 18, 2006 - 2:09 p.m.

When I was with the Fag-pilot and things were bad, I didn’t stop writing, I just stopped posting things publicly, so he couldn’t see it. Today I stumbled on one from 7 months ago, the dead of winter. Wow. I remember writing it, but luckily the memory is fading. The original was one very long paragraph, bad grammar, obviously just a mid-night anguished outpouring. I broke it up here as well as I could.

I knew that my life has greatly improved since I left him. But this was a very good reminder, very good to give me perspective and make me appreciate what I have now.

In case anyone ever wondered why I didn’t leave him sooner, this is as good an explanation as any.

March 11, 2006.

The dream has turned into a nightmare, worse than a nightmare. I’m holding to the shell of a man that does not exist anymore. When I go to him for comfort I get nothing at all, I wrap my arms around nothing and I feel more alone and more hollow than I ever did before when I was alone. I can't remember the last time I was this miserable, I didn't think I could possibly be made this unhappy by another human being. How did I let this happen? How could I do WORSE than the last time? and not just one step down, multiple levels descending into the most rotten relationship I've been in since that fat fuck punched me in my face when I was 17.

Am I dealing with a master liar, a manipulator, a game player? I must be, there is no other explanation. Everything he says is a lie, he goes back on every word, no matter how insignificant it might be. He disappoints me with every word out of his mouth; every action is a knife in the heart, or the back. Everything he promised me has not only never materialized, but all the good has all but vanished. Do you actually love me? I see no evidence of it at all; I see no evidence of like even. No one in my life has as low of an opinion of me as my boyfriend does. Constant criticism, constant complaining, you'd thing he was the most miserable man on earth.

I can't wait to get away from this. I look forward to my future without him. I dream about the person I'm going to meet that isn't him. I dream about being happy and having a man that loves me again and all of my effort are not in vain. Today I just became weepy all of a sudden. Maybe it is the Accutane, maybe it is finally starting to affect me emotionally. But more likely it is the deep seated grief I feel, the sorrow that I’ve been carrying around for so many months now.

I’ve been mourning during the relationship rather than after. Who knows when the breaking point was. There were many points, each worse than the last, each time I'd think it couldn't possibly get worse and it still did and it still does. He never ceases to amaze me, how far he'll go, how irrational he can be, how cruel his words can be, and his coldness. Ice cold, beyond just a person who is hurt, who is guarded, who is untrusting. This is just cold, through and through, I stare at him and search and search his face and his body language, looking for some sign that he is a decent, feeling person capable of love. I can't find it.

What did I see all that time? A fucking movie screen, with a gifted actor performing a role suited just for me. Did I fabricate everything....that's not possible and yet there is no other explanation. Unless I am dealing with a sociopath which is something I don't even want to consider because the craziness of it just reeks of my past, and I am done with crazy fucking people. Those people, who turned out to be not so crazy really, just hurt and in need of a trusting secure relationship in their life. Like re-parenting or some shit. I figured those people out. I read them like a book. I understood them.

But not this one. This is the first one who is so completely out of my grasp that I am beside myself because it is my own personal hell: Not understanding. Not being able to help. Not being able to fix things. Getting nowhere, making no impact, being useless and disposable.

That’s what keeps me around. if I walk away it will eat me alive, just as it is eating me now every day, it is destroying me, taking away the good in me, my humor, my happiness, my vision, my beliefs. Right now it's all about this fucked up relationship and how I can come to some breaking point and walk away. I need to know that I am not disposable. I need to know that I was loved or at least that I was liked, that I made an impression, that I will not be forgotten. I cannot live with the possibility that I could walk away from here and it will mean nothing, I’ll just be last week's newspaper. I cannot waste over year of my life with someone and be disposed of.

Dating someone a few weeks or months, and you get thrown away, no big deal. But a year of my life. My adult life in which I know what I want and I am focused and ready and working hard. I cannot give that year to just anyone. I can't let it be flushed away for nothing. I’ve learned from every relationship, walked away with memories, with knowing that I had grown and was better for having lived it and for having known the man I was with.

This one...there is nothing. We haven't made happy memories in many months. I have not grown. I am not a better person. I did not gain a friend. He is not my friend, I have no bond to him, no connection. There is no love, like a friendship love and admiration. There is no understanding. There are no inside jokes, no giggles, no laughter. No hints, no looks, no whispers of understanding. No security, no warm enveloping arms, no contentedness. No nicknames, no secret stories. No secrets. It didn't occur to me until just now....how important secrets are. They are evidence of trust and vulnerability, two things that are completely lacking here.

No secrets. He carries no part of me inside him. He has nothing to share or contribute upon my death, no insight into my person. Or me of him. He won't give it to me and he won't take it from me. He is a stranger. I get fucked by a stranger.

How did I do this....how could I let this happen.

There is no tickling, no hysterics, no tears, and no sighs of relief. I walk on eggshells, he is volatile, always ready to erupt at the slightest benign comment that has nothing to do with him and is offhanded, my running commentary like all people have. He lacks the filter. The filter to see irony and logic and to separate banter with personal affronts. I am in constant stress and turmoil. I have a knot in my back, my whole spine has been twisted, my blood pressure elevated. Daily rejection. Rejected love, sex, hugs, affection, smooches, a gentle touch, a word, eye contact. All refused. Refused like it was coming from an obese hag, a crazy, a repulsive wench.

Tonight I was weepy. We had plans to spend time together before he had to go to sleep early for work in the morning. I busted my ass at work all day, in fifth gear, trying to get home to him. He was grumpy, snapped at me for my expectations of seeing each other, and cancelled on me. I started crying in my chair at my desk. Not for this now-common incident, but for the last 9 months. All of the hurt, all of the disappointment, all of the hostility directed to me for no explainable reason. I sat in my chair, eyes unfocused, mind racing. Asking myself, What do I need? What do I want? I need to be held, I need comfort, and I need love. I will not get it from him anyway....but I need to feel something, anything. I can't hold this in for 4 days while he is on a trip. I need something to come out. Now.

So I get dressed and drive to his house, knowing that he will be sleeping and will ignore me and there will be no comfort given. I let myself in, crawl into bed with him, hugging kissing, squeezing, nuzzling, lavishing affection, bursting with physical expression, my muscles tight, clinging, with a death grip, desperately, to hold him and feel something. There is nothing there. He is still as a mummy, limp hands and body, frozen lips. He turns his back on me literally, after figuratively, as always, and sleeps while I lay there providing heat and comfort and presence and availability. Nothing. I lay there for 2 hours listening to him breathe and twitch. I think about how unhappy I am. The disappointments. The misery of being there. I want to run. I want to leave him and never look back, never acknowledge him again. I hate him.

I think of all the mean things he's said, his callousness, his utter disregard for my feelings, my needs. He doesn’t care about me or anyone else. We’re all just little toy soldiers to him, people to entertain him and fill a role in his scripted life. My well-being is the last thing on his list of priorities. I’ve watched myself slide past his job on his list of importance. Past the house, the yard, the cars and motorcycles, eBay, maps, his friends, his cat, his many hobbies. I’m at the bottom. I am not on the list, I don’t think. I hate him, I loathe him, he is a rotten empty person. Why does he stay? Why is he here? For the perks, when he feels like cashing in on them. No need to list them, all the obvious stuff. Damn you Tori Amos, always saying just the right thing at the right time. 'When you're only wet because of the rain.'

Someday…you’ll be loved like you never have known. It’s already a bad dream, I wish he had never occurred. I wish I could fast forward my life and be past this. I wish I could unleash my heart, my sunshine bursting from within and give it to someone who would embrace it. Someone who loves it. All of my ex boyfriends loved it, and they loved me, without a doubt. They still do. They hold my sunshine, they carry it with them everywhere they go. Not this one. I need closure, I need out. I want to start over again. I want him gone. I want him to let me go. I want him to come clean and tell the truth and admit that he cares not at all. That he lied, that he’s a liar, that his excuses were all just lies. I need to hear it. I need to know it wasn’t me because he will pin it all on me. It is him. It is all him. The common factor in the history of bad relationships is HIM, not me, THIS TIME. Repeat, repeat, he's done it to so many. I hate him. I wish him nothing. No happiness, he deserves nothing.

I get up from his bed and write this on his computer. I look at his things, his home, his possessions, supposedly beauty and all I see is ugliness and emptiness, more props, more shells, more facades. I listen to his iPod, that I bought him. I put all of these songs on here. Spiraling, it's all talking to me and telling me not to be here. He’s sleeping while I write this and I don't care. I want to go home. It is cold and late, 2am. I am going to crawl into his cold bed and stare at his back, the sight most familiar to me. I’ll sleep and wake up to the same day. Unchanging. I need to snap. I need to lose it. I need to break.

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