Filters
“Why don’t you know when to shut the fuck up?”. I guess because I have a fucking mind of my own and I refuse to let you beat that knowledge into me. Raise your fucking hand to me again motherfucker.
Fat Bottom Girl Said What
When my ass talks, people listen.
Archive for the category “Relationships”
Apparitions
Photo Credit: From the album cover “Sleeping with Ghosts” by Placebo
sometimes when I turn around
I almost see them
just out of the corner of my eye
ghosts
of your past and mine
they show themselves
then retreat
but always return again
at times they creep in
like a fog
lying close to the ground
making it difficult to walk
growing in size and rising
eventually making it difficult to talk
as they choke us with memories
of our pasts
intending to haunt the present
and the future too
ghosts
Simpatico
I am in a little pain today. Tooth pain. I hate tooth pain. It’s the worst kind of pain, I think. I am sure it will go away in a day or so; it just sucks a little bit right now. I felt the need to write this morning, after my blurting/venting yesterday, sparked some of my followers to say “What the fuck is wrong with you?”. Most of them said it in a nicer way than that, but really, when it comes down to it, that’s basically what they were asking.
Anyway, it got me wondering what my motivation for being with The Cowboy is? I think there are numerous reasons, but at this point I can only identify a couple. The first one being my need to be a caretaker. I have been a caretaker all my life; always the person my friends would come to for advice or help. For the last 12 years I have had the most important caretaking job there is, which is being a mother. Those of you who read on a regular basis, know that my son is now going to go live with his dad full-time, and I will only have him every other weekend. But even before the decision for him to live with his dad was arrived at, my son had already started pulling away, becoming more independent. If you are a good parent, you know this is what you strive for, for your children to be able to take care of themselves and to be productive members of society. It seems my son is getting a good start on that, and I will continue to co-parent with his father to make sure he becomes even more adept at it. Presents a problem for me though, because what am I to do with all this time on my hands? I guess I need to find someone else to take care of. Enter The Cowboy. Is he capable of surviving on his own? Yes, I suppose he is, as he has made it 42 years without me. But, he is struggling right now, can’t quite get his shit together, is depressed over the fact he is 2 1/2 hours away from his son and doesn’t get to see him on a regular basis, and he feels like shit because he fucked up a good job and is struggling to find another one. It just so happened that we were dating when he got fired, and he decided that was a good time to move in. Which, if he was making money, and contributing to the household expenses, would be helping me out tremendously, but right now he’s not. I am financing pretty much everything. If I turn him out, it would be to nothing. I can’t do that. He is my friend, and I wouldn’t do that to a friend. Would I like him to be more appreciative? Hell yes, I would! To me it doesn’t take much to say thank you, and it does mean a lot. However, I have had other friends I have done things for who have never said thank you, who have never reciprocated, and they are still my friends, for various reasons. I would feel like a bit of a hypocrite believing I am a good friend, and then kicking his ass when he’s down.
One of the other main reasons is because I am broken. Off-kilter. Fucked up. Screwed up. Odd. Out of the ordinary. Half a bucket of fucking crazy. I’ve never been given a diagnosis, except for depression, but there’s something a little off about me. I choose not to try to put a label on it. I won’t take medication anymore. I have tried medication, and it doesn’t really work for me. I choose to ride the roller-coaster. I prefer the roller-coaster. That being said, I need someone who can put up with my particular brand of crazy. Can The Cowboy handle my brand of crazy? Right now he seems to handle it okay, but in the future who knows? All I know is that a so-called “normal” guy probably couldn’t live with me. My ex was somewhat “normal”, and I was just too much for him. He was too straight-laced and I was too off the charts. I have a “normal” side, one that works hard, and cooks good, and keeps a nice house, and is a good mom, and can even sew and quilt, but that’s not all there is to me. The Cowboy can relate to my half-bucket of crazy side, because he’s got his own half-bucket of crazy. I suppose that means together, we have a whole fucking bucket. We’re going to have to be careful carrying that damn thing, or it might slop over the side.
Blurting – Part 2
Why is my mind going crazy? Why can’t I stop the thoughts, and all the anxiety and the worries flying around in my head?? Am I just feeling poorly about myself? Feeling uncomfortable in my own skin, and constantly worrying about what The Cowboy is thinking or feeling. It’s not that anything in particular happened to precipitate it all. I have tried to be very patient about the job situation, and the way I talk to him about it. I know he feels bad because he lost “the good job”. He hasn’t told his parents, or any of his friends back home, about getting fired from “the good job”. He is embarrassed. I understand, but he needs a job. I am worried about money. I dip into my savings every week to make it through. I can’t continue to do that. I have told him how much I need his help paying the bills, especially when my ex and I re-negotiate the custody agreement with our son.
I am not totally attached to my phone. The Cowboy communicates with a lot of his friends by text message. This would include male and female friends. He thinks I am jealous of how many text messages and phone calls he receives. I am not. I have told him that if my phone was blowing up that much it would drive me crazy. He doesn’t have a smart phone, and he says he doesn’t want one. He is able to check Facebook on his phone, but he can’t see any photos, etc., and receives notifications by text. He tells me he thinks I am nosey about his phone, because sometimes if his phone is blowing up, I will say, things like, “Is that your “boyfriend” Toothless??” I say it jokingly. Half the time he just volunteers the information and tells me who it is. I really don’t think I pester him about it, and it doesn’t seem like a big deal to me. What’s funny is I ran down the street yesterday to get ice. I came back and my phone was laying face down and it had turned off. I thought this was very strange, because I always lay it face up, and the only time I turn it off, is if it needs to be rebooted. So, I wondered if he’d looked at my phone, trying to see who texts me, or who calls me. Did I ask him if he did? No. Leads me to believe that he doesn’t trust me as much as he says he does.
I don’t like jealousy. For the most part I think it’s an unnecessary, destructive emotion. That being said, I do have twinges of it from time to time. The Cowboy doesn’t usually help these twinges by the things he says. Take for instance, a conversation we had this weekend regarding blow jobs, and proficiency. He informs me that I do not give the best blow job he has ever had. “B”, from 20 plus years ago, is still the Blow Job Queen in his book. When he says this it bothers me. Silly, huh? Today I’m trying to figure out which is sillier: me feeling jealous about him thinking “B” is still the Blow Job Queen, or him being able to remember, or really believing, that she still gives the best blow jobs after 20 years??
I am not the type of person who, when in a relationship, needs to be told all the time that I am wonderful, and beautiful, and the most amazing at everything. However, it has been bothering me lately that I don’t seem to get any types of kudos, or atta-girls. So, this weekend, I just come right out and ask The Cowboy if he really even likes, if he even thinks I am special. You know what he tells me? “You’re a pretty good ‘ol gal.” Really?? What the fuck does that mean? I mean right now, I am thinking I am pretty much a fucking saint in most people’s books. Not only have I been patient and understanding about the job situation, I have also been patient about not getting any money for living expenses, I have made sure The Cowboy has food to eat and beer to drink, and because his pickup needs work on it, I was also lucky enough to be given a car, which he has been given to drive, that he didn’t have to pay the tags or insurance on, and that he doesn’t put gas in. And the best he can say is that I’m a pretty good ‘ol gal?? I think he needs to try harder, because I think in most people’s books that would at a bare minimum, make me “the best girlfriend ever”. I don’t need him to tell me that every day, but a fucking thank you every once in awhile would be nice. The Cowboy needs to learn a little gratitude, and he could fucking start at home.
See, I told you I was blurting again. Just putting it out there, and getting it off my chest, because it’s becoming toxic to me!!
Blurting – Part 1
Because I have to get it all off my chest. . . you may not be able to follow this, and I have no clue how to write it so it will make sense, so it’s going to be a rambling, dumping mess of bullshit. . . .because it is all sitting right there, on my chest, heavy, just waiting for an anxiety attack, and I can’t take it anymore. The Cowboy doesn’t have a job. Let me start at the beginning. . .The Cowboy lost his job in April, just after we’d gotten back together after our two week hiatus, or whatever you want to call it. He got fired for attendance reasons. . . he had the time available to him to take, he just didn’t follow proper call-in procedure in order to take the time, so after 3 times, they fired him. They told him he is eligible for rehire in September, and he is planning on going back then. But in the meantime, he needs another job. He got a job a couple days after being fired from the last one. He hated it. He complained about having to go there, about how dirty the place was, about how ridiculous it was to stand around for hours doing nothing, then them expecting you to come in on Saturdays after they’ve sent you home during the week because they didn’t have enough for you to do. I would have to agree, it does seem ridiculous, but I just suggested that he look for something else, while urging him not to quit that one before he found something else. He got into it with his supervisor one day and walked out. He called me and told me, prefacing it with, “I don’t want you to be mad but. . . .” I wasn’t mad, just concerned, because he had given up his rental and moved in with me, and I can’t afford to support him for forever. I had given him until June to start paying his portion of stuff, trying to be nice, so he could get back on track after getting fired from “the good job”. So, he walked off of the crappy job, went back to the temp agency, and after a week or so the only thing they could offer him in his line of work was a job being on-call 24/7 for a local food company. I told him it was up to him, but if it was me, there’s no way I would get into a job like that. You never know how many hours you’re going to get, and leaves you sitting around waiting to be called all the time. He decided I was probably right, and it wasn’t a good idea. They called again the next day and left a message on his phone telling him to go to another place the following Tuesday. He didn’t return their call and ask any questions, because we were picking his son up at the time, and his son’s mother had already agreed to letting him keep his son the entire week. I thought it was important for him to spend the time with his son, and he wanted to keep him so we could all attend a rodeo which was being held the following weekend. So, he didn’t go to the job on that Tuesday. He didn’t call the agency that morning either and tell them he wouldn’t be going. So last week he went to another temp agency, and they got him a job at another local manufacturing place. It’s doing something he’s never before, and he doesn’t particularly care for it, but he was going, until Friday. Friday morning he accidentally locked himself out of the house. I couldn’t figure out why he wasn’t answering my text messages, and I felt like something was wrong. He had the car keys, and could’ve driven to a friend’s house, but he was in his sleep shorts and slippers, with no shirt on, so he just hung out at the house all day. If he had driven to the friend’s house, he would’ve found out I had just put a set of keys in the garage the previous evening for emergencies like that. Talk about ironies. . . anyway, he didn’t call in on Friday, and decided he would just show up this morning and tell them what happened. (I had urged him to call on Friday and let them know, but he didn’t.) So right now I am sitting here, wondering what happened, guessing they let him go to work, since he hasn’t returned any of my text messages. I told you this was going to be a rambling, insane mess!!
Apple Pie and Blow Jobs
Just once could you saying something nice about me?
Tell me something you like about me?
Something you find appealing?
Tell me why you want to be with me?
Because some days I wonder why you’re even here.
Surely you must think I have some redeeming qualities.
Oh, that’s right, you like my cooking and the fact I am always willing to suck your dick.
I’m the best fucking girlfriend ever.
Fall-Out
I sit in the Wendy’s, seated so I can see the parking lot of the convenience store next door. It’s like I am an undercover cop waiting for a drug deal to go down. It’s nothing close to that illicit, it’s simply the exchange of a child from dad to mom. Even though The Cowboy and I now live together, I don’t participate in the exchange. Does it bother me that I can’t be in the car when he meets his son’s mother to pick up or drop off? Not really. I have been down that road, and remember the whole situation being extremely uncomfortable, when newly divorced, my ex and I would make the exchange. My ex and I have been past that for quite some time, and co-parent our son quite effectively, but that comes with the passing of years, and released anger, and often, with new love.
For some reason though, today the waiting bothers me. It bothers me as she steps out of the vehicle in a dress. I wonder about the dress. Is she wearing it for The Cowboy? Or has she come directly from seeing a new man in her life, and it was worn for his benefit instead? My mind begins to race, swirling with insecurities; once that particular tornado starts, it is nearly impossible to stop. I watch The Cowboy place his son in his mother’s backseat and strap him in. The Cowboy’s son has lit up the house for the last week with his laughter, and his voice, as only the wonderment of a 4 year old can do, and I will miss him.
The hour and 15 minute ride home feels much longer, as I try not to let The Cowboy see my insecurities, or hear them when I open my mouth to speak. I keep trying to tell myself in my head that I am good enough, that I am just as pretty, or prettier, than her, that I am more educated than her, that I have a better job, that I own my own house. But none of those things matter in this card game, because she trumps me every time. She is the mother of his child; his only child. I am just the girlfriend.
I eventually speak to The Cowboy of my insecurities. He has sensed them, but didn’t ask about it. He does what he can to reassure me. He tells me again, he has no desire to get back together with her, he is just trying to keep the peace with her, for fear of her withholding visitation of his son from him. I tell him I understand, as I have seen how inconsistent she can be. I never want to come between him and his son. I would never do anything to jeopardize their relationship.
So I shall wait.
At the Wendy’s.
As long as it takes.
For two individuals to heal themselves.
In order the be the best co-parents to their son they can be.
Bye Bye Love – The best movie I have ever seen about how heart-wrenching raising kids after divorce can be. But it also lets you know that love can heal all.
A Lifetime Lease
He dwells in the past as if it’s a house he’s rented with a lifetime lease. I ask him why he does it, why he can’t let go. His answer? “I have.” But it’s quite obvious he hasn’t. He harbors resentments, anger, ill will. They all rear their ugly heads at one time or another: when he speaks of his parents not supporting his bull riding dreams, when he speaks of being laid off from a job in 2006 which pays more money than what he makes now, when he speaks of women who left him years ago, and most often when he speaks of the mother of his son kicking him out, because it’s the freshest and in the forefront of his memories.
He still carries a picture of him and his son’s mother in his wallet. It bothers me. We only have one picture of the two of us together, and it’s not a good one. She still has her own ring-tone on his phone. As far as I know, I don’t have a special ring-tone on his phone. When we go to pick up his son, or drop him off, I have to wait somewhere else and can’t be in the car. Should these things bother me? Am I being shallow? Am I being juvenile? The truth is, some days it really bothers me, and other days it doesn’t bother me at all. These things are no reflection on me as a person, but it does worry me that these things are having an influence on our relationship.
A friend told me last night not to let it bother me, because it’s not that he can’t let go of her specifically, it’s just that he “can’t let go of the past” in general. I think she hit the nail on the head. Many of us have things we can’t let go of, whether they be people, situations, feelings, addictions. We all have to deal with them in our own way, in our own time, and let go of them when at last we decide the burden of toting them is too great. I know one thing though, it sure makes me glad I have a forgiving nature. I can’t imagine carrying around that much anger for that long. It must be exhausting.
My Last Name is Control
He’s said it more than once, “You kind of like to control everything, don’t you?” It’s true, I do like to be in control. I was what many would call a “bossy” kid, and I suppose this has led to me being a “bossy” adult. I am a leader, not a follower, and will attempt to manipulate people to come to my dark side, and do as I wish. And if I can’t use the art of persuasion to get you to do what I want, or see my side of things, then at times I will try to force you to.
Problem? He doesn’t want to be controlled (most people don’t). He has made that very clear, yet he always seems to hand me his problems, seeking my advice and guidance. Is he aware you shouldn’t hand a fixer such as myself, a problem and not expect me to give you numerous solutions? I guess he must not be. He told me last night I sound like his mother. That’s exactly what every woman wants to hear. I told him I don’t want to be his mother, but was just trying to make a point.
He says I am a debater, that I can’t just say something and let it go. It’s true. Why do I feel the need to justify myself to everyone? I think it’s because of my need to control. I want to influence people to understand why I feel the things I do, because I’m not okay with feeling it, saying it, and letting them deal with.
Control is an illusion. I can’t control another human being, unless they allow me to, and to be honest, I don’t really want to control anyone, let alone a man I am in a relationship with. I want to be comfortable enough in my own skin, that I can let go and allow life to happen. I want to release my worries and anxieties, and allow people to make their own choices about things, and live their lives the way they see fit. Some days letting go of control is easy for me. Other days, it isn’t so easy and I battle it. I think I need to keep this quote handy, to remind me neither sunsets, nor people, will be beautiful if I attempt to manipulate them.
Could it happen?
You are the love of my life
And you are the reason I’m alive
And baby baby baby
When I think of how you saved me
I go crazy
I’ve never known love like this
And it fills me with a new tenderness
And I know I know I know
You’re in my heart you’re in my soul
You’re all I can’t resist
And I need to tell you
The first time I held you
I knew you are the love of my life
I spent a lifetime waiting
Always hesitating until you
I was lost so deep inside my shell
‘Til you came and saved me from myself
Now all I really know
Is I need you
And you are the love of my life
All the joy and tears that I cry
And baby baby baby
You don’t have to say a word
I see it in your eyes
As we stand together
I promise forever
‘Til the day that I die
You are the love of my life
I spent a lifetime waiting
Always hesitating until you
I was lost so deep inside my shell
‘Til you came and saved me from myself
Now all I really know
Is I need you
You are the love of my life
You are the reason I’m alive
I heard this song on my drive to work today. I started wondering if it’s possible, if love could change your life and transform you. Could love save you? Maybe you’re one of the lucky ones, and it already has. . . .
Fat Bottom Girl Said What 