Thanksgiving Flashback

Yes, it’s another recycled post from Amy in Miami. This post has special meaning this year, because I’m spending Thanksgiving in the Hamptons, with my beloved, gay ex. This will be our first Thanksgiving together in 11 years. He will NOT be making the gravy this year.

Why I Suspected My Boyfriend Was Gay
November 21, 2005

Thanksgiving Edition

Some of our worst fights (some of our only fights) took place around Thanksgiving. The fights were all about who would get to cook what. His Thanksgiving specialty was Gingerbread Pumpkin Trifle. He made everything from scratch, including the pudding. If he could have, I’m sure he would have picked his very own pumpkin from his very own pumpkin patch. This delectable delight was also garnished with edible flowers and crystallized ginger.

One year, I actually had reason to drop my suspicions thay he might be gay. Mr. Thing was all pissy about wanting to make the gravy, so I gave in and let him do it. By adding red wine to the turkey gravy, he literally turned it into Gray-vee. It didn’t taste that bad, but the color was absolutely repulsive. To make matters worse, he decided to throw in some yellow food coloring, in hopes of bringing the color back to life. The only way I can describe the final outcome, would be toxic puke, We ended up having a gravy-free year. Secretly, I was happy because I knew I would never have to give in and let him make the gravy, again.

Home Is Where My Heart Is

I spent the first 23 years of my life in Utah, which in my mind was about 19 years too many. At the wise old age of 4, I knew I had to get out. Utah was neither sparkly enough nor glamorous enough for me. I was always obsessed with the east coast, and announced every morning, while watching Good Morning America, that I would be living in the Eastern Time Zone. I left Utah in 1993, and never looked back. To me, it’s where my family lives, but it’s not my home. It never really was. It’s a perfectly nice place, just not the place for me.

In the fall of 1993, through a series of bizarre events, I ended up moving to Miami Beach. This was a place, I’d never considered moving to. I didn’t know much about it, because Florida never held any interest for me. Though it’s on the east coast, I always figured I’d end up in the northeast. In the 15 years that I’ve been here, I’ve had a love/hate relationship with the shabby, insane, little town. More hate than love. But lately, I really have been feeling the love. I’ve always felt like this was a temporary place for me, but now I realize that 15 years is not so temporary. It’s not a bad place. I have an AMAZING group of friends, I live on the beach, and have a really good job. Still, I don’t see myself growing old in Miami, and still consider it my temporary home.

In the late 80’s, I started going to New York City on a regular basis. The first time I went, I had never felt more alive, and in my own element. I’m a fast talker, a fast walker, and am always on the move. This is my city. With the exception of the 18 months that I couldn’t leave Dade County, I have spent a lot of time in New York over the last 23 years. The last couple of years, have put me up there 5 or 6 times a year. I have my Tribeca neighborhood, and all of the regular places that I go to. People know me, and I know them. When I step off the “A” train, from JFK, and set foot on Chambers Street, I take a deep breath, suck in the energy of the city, and realize that I am home. Even though I’ve never lived there, in my heart of hearts, New York is my home.

At this time tomorrow, I’ll be home.

Things Are Really Looking Up

Guess who has a date Saturday night?

This will be my first date in almost three years.

Holy shit!

My Life Today

I keep meaning to write a proper post, but have been crazy, busy. Instead, I’ll give a brief update.

Everything is going well, and after my mini breakdown last week, I seemed to have reached a major turning point. My attitude has changed, and I think this is due to having no contact with Ben. I’ve also had to implement some rules, and boundaries, with our mutual friends, meaning I don’t want to know anything about him, or his situation.

The really excellent news is that I’m having a blast as the single girl about town. I met someone a few weeks ago, and immediately forgot about him until contact was made last week. We’ve been talking, and will definitely see each other before I leave for New York, next week. He’s a nice guy, and a very welcome distraction. At the very least, I feel like I’ve made a new friend.

I also wanted to thank everyone for their kinds words, wishes and thoughts during this horrific time. This blog has been so therapeutic to me. It’s been my ’safe place’ where I can spout off about what’s really going on.

To come……. a proper post.

The Daily Struggle

It’s 4:30 a.m., and after a few hours of sleep, I’m suddenly wide awake. I fucking hate this.

In the aftermath of the bottom dropping out of my my world (the break-up from hell), I’ve tried my hardest to let go and move on, but lately it’s been more than difficult.

With the help of friends, I’ve been staying really busy. I leave for work at 8:00 a.m., and often don’t get home until 10:00 p.m., or later. This along with a poor appetite, and scary weight loss has taken a major toll on me, physically and mentally. A few days ago, feeling very weak, and suffering from exhaustion, I took the day off of work, and put myself on bedrest. I have vowed to be kinder and gentler to myself.

The last few weeks, I have dealt with absolute insanity from Ben, and his girlfriend. Especially his girlfriend. I won’t go too into it, but she scares me. She seems to know what I’m doing, and who I’m with, more often than not. This information is taken, then spun into a sick twisted web of lies. Not only does this constantly make me question who to trust, but it’s just really fucking creepy. I have been victim to nasty text messages, numerous blocked phone calls, where the person on the other end just sits on the line. A very good friend of mine, was also subjected to some major harrasment from her. It only stopped after the threat of a restraining order was made. I can’t (and won’t) tell Ben, because I choose not to talk to him, and he won’t believe me. He’s turned into someone I don’t even know, nor do I want to.

Yesterday, I felt better until I received a phone call from an acquaintance, who told me he had a lot of information on the situation, and wanted to tell me some things about them, and how bad it really is. Of course, I want to know, but I realize how damaging this type of information is to me. When I returned the call, said person realized it would better for him not to tell me, but assured me ‘that it looks very good’ for me. Frustrated, and not knowing what the fuck that means, I feel like I’m back at square one, but I’m also grateful that he didn’t divulge anything.

My nearest and dearest have been made aware that I neither want to talk about it, nor do I want to know anything. I cannot allow this insanity to control my world.

I leave for New York on the 24th, and am already counting down the hours until departure. The thought of spending 6 days in a place, where I feel safe, and don’t have to worry about who I might run into, is carrying me through this horrific time.

Thanks as always, for listening. I know things can only get better.

Friday Flashback

This is another recycled post from Amy in Miami. It was written about this guy.

My Pit Was Sniffed
May 17, 2006

After our second date, we ended up at Walgreen’s, where he threw his nose in my armpit and sniffed it out.

Our first date had taken place earlier that day.

We met at work.

I couldn’t stand his personality, but was very attracted to him, physically.

When he sniffed my pit, he smiled and said, “Yum.”

Then he looked at me and told me that he was an “olfactory guy, and kind of a weirdo.”

He was impressed that I knew what olfactory meant.

I ended up staying with him for nearly four years.

There were only a handful of pit sniffing incidents during this time. He seemed to get more enjoyment out of sniffing his own pits.

We broke up a year ago.

Speaking of olfactory, yesterday I caught of whiff of his cologne, and it reminded me of getting my pit sniffed. I laughed my ass off.

Time Heals All Wounds

After almost four years, I was actually able to have dinner with an ex-boyfriend, and talk as friends.

I have seen him only seen him four times, in the last four years. The last being when he showed up at my doorstep in July, and I had to ask him to leave.

When I broke up with him, for the final time, he wanted to be friends. I couldn’t, and had to completely cut him out of my life. I ached for him, and thought about him constantly. I was newly sober (the first time around), and never felt more alone. Less than a month after we broke-up, he moved in with another girl. Ouch.

A few months later, when I was doing much better, he called to tell me he hated me, and that I had ruined his life. We didn’t talk for about 9 months. When I entered a relationship with Ben, he asked me not to talk to him, because it made him uncomfortable. I respected his wishes.

The ex, and I, spent four horiffic drug, alcohol, and drama filled years together. I look at this, as the darkest time in my life.

Tonight, over dinner, he pointed out that it wasn’t all bad. And for once, he was right. He broke the ice tonight, by performing card tricks for the first ten minutes. He was kind, funny, and charming. We talked about us, and our separate lives, today.

When we parted ways, he told me that he’s glad I hate someone else, other than him. I think there’s a good chance, that we can now be friends. Not too good of friends, but simply, just friends.