The first time Earl and I slept together? We SLEPT! No sex involved. We talked and laughed and compared note on things we like to do, things we'd like to do as well. When I got married, it wasn't the sex, cause trust me, on balance, it so wasn't about sex. If it had been about sex, I'd have broken off the engagement after we'd lived together for a frickin year planning the wedding.
I wanted to grow old together with someone who got my jokes, who'd been there through the good times AND THE bad. Someone I had a history with, someone who respected me, and cared about me as much as I did about him. Someone who when faced with standing with me against the world, or standing with the world beating on me would stand with me. Someone who defend me as much as I'd defend him.
Someone who knew what I was thinking by the look in my eye, and we'd both start laughing at our own inside jokes. Before we married, we had the kind of relationship I dreamed about, and sex had nothing to do with it. We used to finish each others sentences, complete thoughts, have whole conversations with just a look. Folks said we were like a little old married couple we were so adorable, and freaky together. HIS parents, who had been together almost 40 years didn't know each other, or get each other the way Earl and I did.
I fell stupid in love. Over looked the warning signs, and let him put that ring in my nose. So I'm as much to blame I guess as he was. Because I BELIEVED him, and choose to over look the parts that weren't perfect. Like the fact that he was a pathological liar, an obsessive Momma's boy, had a toxic co-dependant abusive relationship with his Mom. Like the fact that he and his Dad used to go to Giant's games in sub zero temperatures while getting sleeted and freezing rained on to watch them lose ... again. I KNEW he wasn't perfect, but I never claimed to be perfect either.
He was also awesome, and brilliant, and funny, and could touch my heart and soul in a way no one had ever even tried before. He took me to places I'd never have gone, and shared with me things I'd never have experienced because it was fun. Like Skeeball off the boardwalk in a New England coastal town. He helped me fall in love with the ocean. He loved little New England towns and window shopping as much as I did.
He hurt me so badly that anyone else would have wished him dead, not just divorced. I didn't even want a divorce, I just want him to look at me again the way he used to. I wanted, I needed his love again. I wanted to go play skee ball and walk on the beach. I wanted him to hold me. I needed him to hold me. But eventually the abuse got so bad I had to do something. Worse yet he totally took me for granted.
But you know what, I wouldn't have wished him dead. He is, and so he never got a chance to see what he lost, what he'd done. And I'd lost an epic love. Despite everything that happened, and as much as he hurt me, and as much as I grew to fear him, TO THIS DAY I STILL LOVE HIM.
I can't not. Cause this isn't a Disney fair tale, and when I give my heart to someone it isn't just a thing of convenience, it wasn't about sex, it wasn't about a nice house and a white picket fence with 2 kids a dog and a cat. It wasn't about money, or status, or friends, or car payments or a big bank account. It was about love, and that look in his eye he had only for me. It was the way he could just look at me across a crowded and room and I'd KNOW for certain, he loved ME.
And after everything that happened, I'd give just about anything to have him look at me like that again. To have him hold my hand as we walked across the street to go watch the ducks fucking in the lake on a cool autumn day. How for years after he'd just say ducks in that way he had and we'd always break out laughing. I'd live in a cardboard box with him in the middle of the woods eating roots and berries if we could just go walking through the outlets browsing for thing we were never going to buy and laughing about who would buy them. I'd sell my soul to have some "Almost Escargo" at the boat house grill with him and hear his voice. After everything I still love him. After everything I still didn't want for him to die. I can't not love him. And it had NOTHING to do with sex.
Which made me think of the lunatic ravings of an unrepentant Narcissist that claimed I was jealous of her relationship. She's never even had a real relationship and I'm jealous? Yeah, right, and the Pope is a cross dressing former nazi who endorses sex with children. Oh wait, bad comparison since that is pretty much the current Pope. Not only am I not jealous of the abuse she hands out to everyone and anyone that doesn't see things her way, I'm also not jealous of the life she thinks she has, where she's one more catastrophe away from having to beg or borrow money from anyone because she's incapable of dealing with bills, budgets or life in any meaningful sense. But she and her lunatic fringe are watching me of course. Yeah, really? So "Lindsay I'm such a worshiper of the devil herself" watch this.
Not only am I NOT jealous of anything a Narcissist think she's has, but I'm so sick to death of people like her and my late husband that I plan on dying alone and happily single. Jealous of her relationship? There isn't enough money in the 'verse to get me to have the kind of "relationship" she has now. I had one of those. I'm still healing, growing, and ENJOYING being single. I personally think Lindsay is a made up name and persona just so that certain hateful little people who haven't even lived a real life yet could launch more hateful comments because she had to have the last word. So go right ahead Lindsay, watch, and understand clearly that I think the BEST thing that could happen is for my other friend to finally get to live single for awhile, and live her own life, and get to find out who she is, heal and grow. Watch as my prediction that eventually our favorite little narcissist finds herself alone because she's a horrid little person who is so self involved that she's incapable or real love, because she loves herself more than anyone else.
I have a nice, quiet apartment all my own that I pay for, a car that runs well that has insurance on it so that I can drive it legally, and can and do pay my own bills instead of suckering other people into paying them for me. I have friends I adore, who adore me, because we're all bright, shiny, happy people. I don't have to beg for anything. Even peace and quiet. My phone doesn't get turned off all the time because I spent the money on a manicure and hair color I didn't need, and had no reason to have, when the children didn't have enough food. I don't risk going to jail driving a car with no insurance because my beauty supplies are more important than driving legally.
Jealous of what? Grow up children and get over yourselves. As if that all wasn't enough, I'm a Buddhist, I don't form the kinds of attachments anymore that could lead to jealousy because that only leads to suffering. And with God as my witness I've had plenty of that. Jealous? Yeah right. I've at least known real love a time or too and always pay my car insurance. So you and all your little friends can go to Ne'tu for all I care, since obviously you enjoy suffering so much. I've been there plenty of times before and have always managed to survive and escape. I'm going to keep it that way.