Broken Hearts

I remember the first time I ever had my heart broken. Jay was tall, incredibly handsome and a perfect gentleman. He sent me roses every single month for the entire year we were together. He bought me my first bottle of expensive perfume (a scent I still love and wear). He sent me cards and wrote me beautiful love notes. I rarely save anything from old loves, but I still have a few cards he sent me. In one, he wrote “I love you, I want you, I need you.”  It’s still one of the most romantic things a man has ever given me. We were both barely 18. It’s crazy to think that a guy that young could be that thoughtful and romantic. But he was.

It was an idyllic first love. He completely adored me and we had an amazing summer together. But like most first loves, it came to an end.  The week before Christmas, he came to my house to drop off my gift. And as he stood in the doorway, somehow I knew he had cheated on me the weekend before. I’m not sure how girls know these things but sometimes you can just feel them in your bones. He admitted he had slept with someone else and I fell apart. I cried for weeks. I didn’t think I would ever get over him.

But I did.

But I can’t listen to The Payola’s You’re the Only Love without remembering that summer.

There are only two other times I ever felt that kind of hurt. And both occurred in more recent years.

The most memorable one and the most painful by far was three summers ago. I’ve written about it here, so I won’t rehash it all again. But instead of crying in bed for weeks (okay, I may have done that, too) I was more like Diane Keaton’s character in Something’s Gotta Give, sitting at my laptop and writing it all out. Writing and crying. I literally wrote – and cried –  for weeks, maybe months. I was completely inconsolable. I remember feeling a genuine physical ache that literally lasted for months. It felt like the pain would never go away.

But eventually, it did.

It’s impossible to go through life without experiencing loss. At some point, we all have our hearts broken. And no matter how many times it happens, it’s one of the few things in life that never seems to get any easier.

It always fucking hurts.

And it’s not something you can prevent although some people think you can control it. A man once told me he would never fall in love with anyone ever again, after having his heart broken by someone else. Then he fell in love with me. And I didn’t mean to hurt him (no one ever plans these things) but after a few years, I decided I needed to end it. The relationship had taken a toll on me, both physically and emotionally, and uncertainty in any relationship can be just as damaging as infidelity. Sometimes it feels like if we end things first, that will make it easier or less painful. But the truth is if you still care about the person at all, it’s never an easy thing to do. And even though I still cared about him deeply, I knew it needed to end.

I spent months questioning my decision. Looking back, I know it was for the best, but at the time, I was too immersed in mixed emotions to see it.  It’s almost impossible to separate logic from love when you are completely caught up in the middle of it.

Falling in – and out – of love is completely uncontrollable. You can’t stop your heart from feeling something it feels.  And you can’t make someone feel something if they don’t. That’s the tragic beauty of love.

But what if both people still care? What if we held onto that person, instead of letting go and decided to work it out before throwing it all away? That only works if both people want it badly enough and are committed to each other.

Is it easier to walk away and start over fresh with someone new? Or do you stay and try to lovingly mend all of the broken pieces?

All the art of living lies in a fine mingling

of letting go and holding onHenry Ellis

Love is the most amazing feeling in the world. So it amazes me how some people are so quick to throw it away.  Once a man has captured my heart, I am completely devoted to him. I have lived long enough to know that finding love is rare and I don’t think you should ever throw it away.

Everything could be falling apart around you, but if you have someone who loves you, somehow it makes everything else seem better. Having that one special person on your side can make all the difference. And when they suddenly disappear from your life, it can feel like your entire world has come to an end.

But it doesn’t.

 

Heart break is inevitable. You can’t stop it from happening if it wasn’t meant to be. And you can’t put all of the pieces back together after everything has fallen apart. And it’s pointless to hold onto to something when the other person has already let go.

Life doesn’t end just because love sometimes does.

That’s when letting go gracefully seems to be the only option.

And no matter how much it hurts when you are going through it, we all heal and we all move past it and we all survive. But even better than that is that we always find love again.

Everyone survives a broken heart.  But it still hurts like hell.

After my divorce, I said I would never marry ever again. But the truth is I still believe in true love. I still believe in the fairy tale. I still want to lie in bed with someone at night and kiss and hold hands and make love and fall asleep together.  I want to fall in love with every part of his mixed up soul. And I’ll always believe that the only reason we were placed on this earth is to love and to be loved.

I will never stop believing that love is the most amazing thing in this world.

But just to be safe, I think I might sit this next game out.  ♥

Image from Pinterest.

Image from Pinterest.

 

 

 

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The Player

“I was a drunken whore master.”

These were Todd’s exact words to me, describing himself. [This is a post about him, a guy I’ve known for years, who repeatedly tried to sleep with me and repeatedly failed.]

I was impressed with his honesty. It also made me laugh. It was funny.

And also sad.

But there are thousands of Todd’s. They are everywhere.

Guys who would fuck any girl who is willing to put out.

And according to Todd, most girls are easy prey. All he’d have to do was buy them a few drinks and tell them they were pretty.

Two shots later and BOOM. She’s naked in your bed.

“So easy”, he’d say.

But empty. Sad. Pathetic.

Todd slept with 2, 3, sometimes even 4 girls, in a single week. Leaving a trail of broken hearts and some very confused and upset women, along the way.

He didn’t care. He didn’t want any girl. He just wanted to get laid. He talked about it as casually as discussing the weather.

Then one day, after a bad day at work, he stopped at a bar. He’d stopped there a 100 times before. He had seen her there a few times.

Sometimes they’d even make small talk. That particular night, the bar was empty. He moved a seat closer.

He bought her a drink.

She smiled and thanked him. One hour turned into two… Two drinks turned into… many.

He couldn’t remember the details. “All I remember is her….”

That night, Todd took her back to his apartment. On the way, he stopped at a liquor store. He ran inside and minutes later, returned with an expensive bottle of red wine.

“I don’t care for red,” she said.

“Should I run in and get you a bottle of white?” he asked.

He aimed to please. She politely declined. They left.

Todd had all the things you would imagine a Player to have: a brand new loaded BMW, a great apartment, an amazing job. And he was very attractive.

Short, dark hair. Perfectly dressed. Expensive jeans. A sexy, striped button down shirt. His eyes were dark. Smoldering.

He stared at her. She knew exactly what he was thinking. 

He popped open the bottle of wine.

She was nervous. She guzzled it to calm her nerves.

They made small talk. He moved closer. She darted away. She needed more wine.

She looked in his refrigerator. It was overflowing with beer and little else.

More wine. Flirting. Kissing…

Two hours later, they were naked in his bed. A huge beautiful, antique-looking wooden mirror leaned up against his wall. An odd piece for a Player to have. It showed he had dimension. Some class. An appreciation for beautiful pieces of old furniture.

She liked it.

She grabbed her black dress and heels, got dressed and left. She needed to go home.

He stood in the doorway, barely clothed and watched her walk to her car. He missed her before she had even left.

Todd stopped seeing other women. All he could think about was her.

She wasn’t the most beautiful girl. But she was quite striking. Soft blonde hair that grazed her shoulders. Pretty green eyes.

Her body bore the faint scars of having children. It was not perfect. He didn’t care.

He thought she was beautiful.

And she was smart, funny, cute.

Irresistible.

He couldn’t stop thinking about her. He wanted to see her again. He needed to see her again.

Soon.

He couldn’t wait. He texted her and emailed her. Sent an extravagant bouquet of calla lilies and white roses to her at work.

What the fuck had happened to him?

He didn’t even recognize himself.

Soon they were seeing each other frequently. The sex was amazing. Electric.

But it was more than that.

He was falling in love with her. And she felt the same.

Todd had never been the romantic type. But one night he told her: “I care for you so much, it scares me. I want you to know how much I love you.”

She was touched. “You are amazing, Todd.”

He replied, “No I am NOT amazing. When I look at you, all these words just come pouring out of me. I’m not amazing. I’m just being genuine. This is what you do to me. This is how you make me feel.”


If they are lucky, even the most promiscuous man (or woman), will meet a person who will change them.

Turn their world upside-fucking-down.

The trick is finding a person who will reciprocate that all-consuming love.

A person who earns it. Respects and protects it.

Makes you feel like anything is possible.

If you find that… hold onto it.

Never let it go.

[Update: A few months later, this girl dumped Todd and completely broke his heart. Perhaps proving that karma does in fact exist. I don’t know. It’s not for me to say.]

The Taste Of You #MMCM Mirtha Michelle: Mirtha Michel, Michel Castro, Letters

The Taste Of You #MMCM Mirtha Michelle: Mirtha Michel, Michel Castro, Letters