All I meant to say the other night was that I have a tendency to avoid my emotions these days, and that makes blogging difficult.
I have the weirdest flippin dreams sometimes. I woke from one this morning, thoroughly confused. I was dating a guy. He sometimes had Dave's face, sometimes John's, and sometimes Scot's. I was there (there I was!) and we were together, and we loved each other, and we had an amazing bond, but he was married to some blonde floozy. She knew we were together, and she knew we loved each other, and she was fine with that, but she demanded anyway that he perform his "husbandly duties," and for some reason he felt obligated, and wouldn't leave. Right before I woke up, we were in their house which was on a busy, lively, colorful street with no cars. The street reminded me of Bourbon Street in New Orleans at night. The house was one room, with doors off of it for bedrooms. He had many adult brothers and sisters and brother in laws ands sister in laws, and they were all there with their many children, who were asian for some reason. My guy gave me a kiss, and went off to help his wife to bed, which undoubtedly involved some hanky panky. There I was with one of his sister in laws, a sweet and gentle woman, trying to figure out what I was supposed to do. I tagged along with her as she put her children to bed. All of the children slept in an upstairs bedroom, and the only thing in that room was a large swimming pool. There were maybe 20 children floating in it sleeping, as that's how they slept, floating in the pool. There was also an old asian man floating in the pool, and I think he was their grandfather. I went back downstairs, confused not about why they slept in the pool, but about why they would put a pool in on the 2nd floor of the house. I sat down, deeply troubled that my love was off with his wife, really upset but not quite knowing what to do. One of his brothers was sitting there with pen and paper in hand. I reached out for them, and he commented that "that didn't take me long" as he apparently knew that I was writing a goodbye letter for his brother as he handed me the pen and paper. As I was writing to him that I couldn't do this, that I needed to step out of the situation so that he and his wife could try to be happy together, Dave came home and woke me up. I hate waking up in the middle of a dream - especially if it's an intense one. It leaves me feeling almost drunk, confused, not quite myself.
I dated a guy not long after Dan left that was married, but separated from his wife and living in a separate house. This was Scot. I was in pain, and he was in the same pain - his wife left him for some guy - and it just worked, aside from the fact that I could tell he still loved her, just as I still loved Dan. Our relationship was incredibly intense. There was so much emotion, so much pain... and our physical realtionship was... Oh my GOD. You know, a relationship between two people with broken hearts can be so difficult, but at the same time, it can make so much sense. He knew exactly what I was going through, and exactly how to respond to me, and I hope his experience was the same. I remember one night, specifically, where I was falling to pieces. I was trying to make dinner, but I couldn't keep myself together. I kept dropping things, breaking things, spilling things, trying not to fall apart. He came up from behind me, put his arms around me, and held me while I shook, while I cried. He made me smile, made me laugh, picked up my pieces. My memory of that night is a good one, a special one, not so much as a sad one. There came a point where his wife broke up with her boyfriend, with the suttle implication that she wanted him to come home. He stood by my side, and he told me there was no way he would go back to her, that he hated her, and he loved me. I could tell it was killing him. In the end, I stepped away. I pushed him away. It was so hard - when he came to me, wanting to hold me, to love me, to push him away, to see the tears streaming down his face, to see the hurt in his eyes, but I pushed him away, told him he needed to go home to his wife. He left, and I went inside and layed in bed crying for hours. Today he and his wife are happy together, as in love as ever, a family for their kids. I think he would have stayed with me if I had let him, but I am so glad I didn't. I do love him, I do miss him, I do wish sometimes that things could be different, but I am so grateful, so happy to see him now with his wife and children, happy to have his family together again. Life tosses weird things at us.
I dated another guy that was a gulf war veteran. This was John. While he was in Iraq, the truck he was riding in blew up. He watched people he cared about die, and he was seriously injured himself. He came home in a wheelchair, and his wife left and took their son with her. Apparently it was just too much for her to handle. Eventually he was able to walk again, but he walked around every day with so much pain, both physically and emotionally. He had an amazing mind - probably the most intelligent person I have EVER met, and he had an amazing heart, and he had been broken in every way. At the time, neither of us had the emotional strength for the kind of relationship that happens when a person in my state and a person in his state come together, so we went our separate ways after a short period of time, but he haunts me still. I want him to know peace so badly.
The sun is shining today, and the sky is blue. I should get out and enjoy it, but I think I am going to start a fire in the woodstove, try to fix the supports in my new and apparently broken couch, and clean up the kitchen. I don't want to get out of my pajamas today.