Writing My Wrongs

It’s Monday but my head feels like it’s a Saturday morning…and my body feels like some shit went down that I should remember the day after…
Snowboarding ain’t no damn joke. Granted I only took lessons…I’d never been on a snowboard. And what made my uncoordinated ass think I could go down a mountain on one…when I can’t even skateboard on a flat surface is beyond me…but hey…you only live once. My body is on it's way to 40 but my brain still thinks it's 20-something... I'm in paaaaiiiiinnnn.

My snowboard instructor…a 16 year old kid…my other lesson taker…an 8 year old little girl…I could be both of their mamas. Every time I fell I said “fuck” or “shit”…then apologized to the kids. The “instructor” kid…said no problem. I told him never ever ever go skiing when he has a hang-over. He said, "tell me about it, I’ve done that countless times"…lil muthaeffa out drinking!
Well…let’s just hope he didn’t do as I did at the pajama party the night before. I believe I had 7-9 SoCo with cranberry juice’s. Juices’s? Either way…as soon as we got to the hotel I went and got a drink.
My nerves were…nervous.
I have this real sensitive stomach and I get sick quite easily…especially when I stress…and I have been stressing a lot lately… like the last damn 3 months. Anyway…after a 3 hour train ride…and then a 2 hour car ride with the bane of my existence right now… is stressful to me. So before he had a chance to put the car in park…I jumped out of the car and went to the bathroom to throw up (sensitive stomach plus I tend to get car sick)…I headed skraight to the bar. He came and found me…just looked at me...smiled and shook his head. In the car…I was the minimalist… trying to make sure I said the most minimalist words as possible. But once he saw that drink in my hand…so early in the evening…he just knew he was getting some ass.
I was like…”keeping thinking that shit, don’t get your feelings hurt”…Yea, that was drink ONE. By drink 12-32…my thinking might have changed...but that is neither here nor there.

I put on my jammies and head to the banquet area for the pajama party and …
…BAMM! Fight breaks out… and when this chick got up…her eye looked like MikeTyson beat her ass! It was swollen and bleeding like she had been in a welter weight championship. The fight lasted less than 3 minutes. Dumb asses. Men were liking it though…pajama party…and these broads were in lingerie…titties and ass were being shown all over the place…some shit that I wished I hadn’t seen… let’s just say…I know where they get the term “nappy dugout” from. Bitch you knew you were coming up in the spot with lingerie on…shoulda known to cut, trim, comb, perm….hell, braid that shit!
We partied until 4AM.
Well, by the time we got back to the room…well…hold on…I remember leaving the party…and walking to the elevator…and being on the elevator….and pulling out my room key…

So Saturday morning, bright and early and hung-over…I’m taking snowboarding lessons…with the teenage instructor and my 8 yo class mate… I left before it ended and went into the lodge and laid my head down and I might have even snored…fuck ‘em I don’t care. Back to the hotel and he and I slept…slepttttted until it was time to get up for the comedy and the live entertainment… both were wack. I was hung-over still…sleepy as hell and by 3:30AM I was ready to go to bed…me being me and NOT jealous but maybe a little insecure for unknown reasons was debating if I’d stay downstairs and watch Dude or go ahead and leave him to his own devices.

The logical and sane part of my brain let me know that I broke up with this man and it was sorta ass backwards to be concerned with his goings-on anymore.

But banquet room full of bitches that have been drinking since…2 days ago…well, I can’t have broads thinkin’ I’mma punk….
Fuck ‘em and him…I went to the room to go to bed...If shit was gonna happen...it was going to happen whether I was there or not. Let him get his ass into some shit if he wants to…Sunday I am back in NYC…and he’s back in MD.
He can fuck who he wants…but he better not!! At least not when you invited me up for a weekend trying to “talk things out”.
Serious tho,
Odd thing was, I wasn’t concerned about him fucking some chick in some back hallway of the damn place…it wasn’t about him touching places he shouldn’t be when he was dancing… it was about those chicks looking at me the next day like I’m the stupid ass that doesn’t know any better about what her “husband” was doing,while she was in bed asleep...
This is why...
... this shit made a difference to me… in order for us not to pay for the whole weekend… I had to be his wife. And he’s using that shit like it felt good in his mouth..."this is my wife Bloopty", yesterday someone asked us how long we’d been married and right off his tongue…"10 years...we have 3 boys and a girl" I just kept my mouth shut.

I just realized, I went off into another story…hahaha…heeheehee

…ahem…ok back to story…
Sunday and everyone goes bowling…me at this point was feeling like this weekend is some ol’ bullshit. Playing a role that I wasn’t meant for. This character belongs to someone else who has more talent in …bullshitting. I’m done bullshitting. He gets back and saw that I have packed all my things while he was gone. He just sat on the bed and said…
“Mrs. Smith, my sixth sense tells me that you have something you want to say.”

“Your sixth sense is fucking with you ‘cause I don’t have anything on my mind. Maybe, you have something that you want me to hear…?”

He pulled me to him, hugs me around my waste and puts his head on my stomach (don’t ask)… and says, “Why do I have the feeling that once we leave this place I am not going to see you again?”

I ignored that. I mean, it’s not like a real question…is it? Well, I took it as hypothetical. He knows the deal…shit ain’t changed just because I came up here. He needed to see me. Breaking up through emails and on the phone is one thing…something I could do…I had done with him. He needed face to face… as if I wouldn’t be able to do it face to face. He was somewhat right but… I’m stubborn. This shit we got is no longer fun…it’s strained and absolutely positively his fault. I’m uncomfortable and I can’t deal with the queasiness of my stomach at stress…
In the long silence that followed… I finally

…tried to brush if off…pull away and start my way downstairs to put the suitcases in the truck… he wouldn’t let me go, he didn’t do anything, didn’t say anything… he just cried, silent tears.

The kind that makes me feel like shit. Every man that I have been with has cried… I don’t know how men are about tears…but I feel like just saying…

"fine, whatever you want, that’s what it will be."

He got up…no words…went and got a wet washcloth…and dried his eyes and came to ask me the same question for the second time. I knew then that I had to answer and this goodbye (to each others and the people downstairs) was going to be harder than I had planned. You see, I had planned on him doing what he always does… avoid shit and then act as if I hadn’t said anything. I hadn’t expected him to really want to talk about shit.
So I laid it out for him…
30 minutes later…
He didn’t say anything as tears ran down his face…
I stopped talking, he got up and hugged me and finally told me
“I understand.”

As his luck would have it…elevators were packed so we sat and waited for an elevator…and as we sat….there was an older gentleman who was asking us were we were from, how is the married life, how old were the kids…he then proceeds to talk about how young people these days don’t know what commitment is all about. “You don’t give up on a marriage when things get hard…you dedicate yourself to getting them back to easy. If you found someone that understands you and all your messed up ways then you should hold on to each other because this life is hard enough…but it’s harder when you’re alone trying to find something that you already had but never took the time to cultivate.”
I am sitting there and Dude is standing across from me and his eyes are watery as he’s listening to this man we don’t even know and he’s staring at me…willing me to listen, absorb and agree with this man. I looked away.
If I didn’t know any better…I’dda thought he planned it.
We put our suitcases in the truck and went into the banquet area to have lunch…and again… at the table…another man…but same conversation… “Don’t let each other ever go. My wife and I have been watching you all weekend, you two are tender with each other. When you are in each others presence, no one else matters.”
Then his wife reaches over and touches my hand and says, “He looks at you a lot when you’re not looking. That’s love when he can admire you without having you notice.”

This chicken is going down my throat as easily as sandpaper and I am just smiling and nodding my head in the affirmative and I am trying my hardest not to look at dude without being rude in front of the older couple.
They continue to talk to Dude...and I just smile. All the while thinking…this is some ol’ bullshit!

So here we are in the truck and it’s another 2 hour ride…just he and I. We are laughing and talking…and out of the blue…

“You know I am supposed to come speak for career day up at my high school this week…are you going to be in town? I am coming from Thursday to Sunday?”

“I think I have something planned.” (knowing I have no damn place to be…but was he tryna stay with me?)

“On Saturday, I want us to go to the travel agent for that trip to the islands.”

...I had him right there…right where he was suppose to be for him to move on…he was ready to give in…he had given in.
Really, he had!
Those fucken old people messed up my shit and now…I am back to where I started from…
Like everything I said and everything he had been ok with… was washed away by two old married couples.

I told him, “that wouldn’t be a good idea for us to go on anymore trips…long weekends…any of that anymore.”
“But we have plans to go to the NewOrleansJazzFest next month! What about that?”
“Dude, when you break up…regardless of what was planned…it’s all null and void…it wouldn’t be a good idea. We are not the same anymore.”

Silence…and then time to drop me off and here we go…again…
Crying…
3 of 3 and it’s really hurting my heart.
Really.
He can’t say anything for a couple of minutes and I am thinking I’mma miss my train... he hugs me and tells me he loves me

…and I know he does…but sometimes…you still have to work at shit…you can’t just be satisfied with the knowledge of love… Love does not conquer all in my book. Love is not the band aid…masking the problems.

Now I am back in NYC…and tonite is tat night and I have plans tomorrow night and then I have to decide what am I going to do come Thursday…when he comes to town.

Watch out…this is not a sucka –free zone. You smack dab in the middle of Sucka-dom.