Sugar on my lips
My ex-lover went to Canada to a convention for five days, and came home bubbling over about it at one a.m. Sunday night. She raced inside and gave me a big hug, not letting go until I moved away. It was a full-body hug. She told me she missed me, and then we sat on the couch while she talked excitedly about the con. Originally she had asked me to go with her, but of course she retracted that after she broke up with me. Constantly, she touched me. She touched me with her feet, her legs, and she kept holding my hands.
After she first broke up with me, she started going to bed in a t-shirt and sweatpants. But that night she went to bed in just a bra and sweatpants. I wondered, "What the hell?" Maybe she's too tired to know what she's doing. So I got in bed and tried to sleep. She rolled over to face me, her forehead touching mine, our breaths mingling. She held my hands, and she talked some more. Then she started purring. Purring, for Chrissakes. Until she fell asleep.
The next morning she was back to her normal self. Not speaking, hovering over her computer, cussing, snapping at me when I said good morning.
I feel toyed with. I am angry and angry and burning and burning. I still want her. God only knows why. She will sleep with one of three women within six months, this I know (One of those women asked her out two years ago, as if our relationship was nothing, and they work together and call each other constantly). I have a hundred dollar bet riding on it, although I may not find out. She's paying 12 grand to get me out as soon as she can, and no one does that unless they hate you (which she obviously doesn't), or unless they want someone else in their own bed, and in their own house).
Last night I confronted her about some things. We got angry. I said some unforgiveable things. But I am tired of her expecting to control everything, always. I was never even allowed to buy goddamned colored sheets for chrissakes and now she is trying to control every aspect of the breakup. She thinks that she can put me away like a used toy, and that I will still take her to the doctor if she needs support, or that I will still support her being transgendered when she told me that one of the reasons she's breaking up with me is because she's too busy being transgendered to be in a relationship. It's a lie of course, a crappy stupid reason that no one in their right mind would believe, but I'm still bitter. Too bitter to allow her to put me away and pretend that everything is all nice and that I will give her all the benefits of a relationship without asking or taking anything. I will not walk away with sugar on my lips when there is acid in my heart, eating me from the inside out.
Yesterday morning, to cover my confusion, I made breakfast for both of us. I cooked omelets with a filling of leeks and mushrooms stir-fried in olive oil with a mix of fresh herbs from the plants I bought recently. I put in cheese, for her. And I cooked perfect hashbrowns, a secret I only recently learned, along with faux bacon strips. We ate, and later I had explosive diarrhea, what stress always does to me.
I'm shaking this morning, and crying intermittently, and my face is horribly swollen, eyes slitted. I called my general practitioner, hoping for some anti-anxiety medication to join my anti-depressants, but she is out of town until the 20th. I am at the end of my rope. I want to be held, not in a sexual way, not in a romantic way. I want comforting, I need comforting. I need to be encouraged, I need this to be over. If I had drugs to make me forget, I would take them. I don't want any part of her in my brain anymore. I want it all gone.
After she first broke up with me, she started going to bed in a t-shirt and sweatpants. But that night she went to bed in just a bra and sweatpants. I wondered, "What the hell?" Maybe she's too tired to know what she's doing. So I got in bed and tried to sleep. She rolled over to face me, her forehead touching mine, our breaths mingling. She held my hands, and she talked some more. Then she started purring. Purring, for Chrissakes. Until she fell asleep.
The next morning she was back to her normal self. Not speaking, hovering over her computer, cussing, snapping at me when I said good morning.
I feel toyed with. I am angry and angry and burning and burning. I still want her. God only knows why. She will sleep with one of three women within six months, this I know (One of those women asked her out two years ago, as if our relationship was nothing, and they work together and call each other constantly). I have a hundred dollar bet riding on it, although I may not find out. She's paying 12 grand to get me out as soon as she can, and no one does that unless they hate you (which she obviously doesn't), or unless they want someone else in their own bed, and in their own house).
Last night I confronted her about some things. We got angry. I said some unforgiveable things. But I am tired of her expecting to control everything, always. I was never even allowed to buy goddamned colored sheets for chrissakes and now she is trying to control every aspect of the breakup. She thinks that she can put me away like a used toy, and that I will still take her to the doctor if she needs support, or that I will still support her being transgendered when she told me that one of the reasons she's breaking up with me is because she's too busy being transgendered to be in a relationship. It's a lie of course, a crappy stupid reason that no one in their right mind would believe, but I'm still bitter. Too bitter to allow her to put me away and pretend that everything is all nice and that I will give her all the benefits of a relationship without asking or taking anything. I will not walk away with sugar on my lips when there is acid in my heart, eating me from the inside out.
Yesterday morning, to cover my confusion, I made breakfast for both of us. I cooked omelets with a filling of leeks and mushrooms stir-fried in olive oil with a mix of fresh herbs from the plants I bought recently. I put in cheese, for her. And I cooked perfect hashbrowns, a secret I only recently learned, along with faux bacon strips. We ate, and later I had explosive diarrhea, what stress always does to me.
I'm shaking this morning, and crying intermittently, and my face is horribly swollen, eyes slitted. I called my general practitioner, hoping for some anti-anxiety medication to join my anti-depressants, but she is out of town until the 20th. I am at the end of my rope. I want to be held, not in a sexual way, not in a romantic way. I want comforting, I need comforting. I need to be encouraged, I need this to be over. If I had drugs to make me forget, I would take them. I don't want any part of her in my brain anymore. I want it all gone.