Paul and The Open Relationship

I must be a sadist.

I must just love to torture myself and make myself feel all icky and awful inside. Why, you ask, my dear readers?

I ran into a high school aquintence last week. Normally I cringe at seeing people from my old salt mine but this particular person was kind and sweet person that I had known off and on during my youth so no crinding was had. We chatted for a few moments and she asked me if I still talked to Paul, my first boyfriend. At that comment, I did cringe. And shutter. And I felt a little bit like throwing up. She told me she ran into him working some meanial job in a coffee shop and he looked stoned, like he had been up all night. She friended him on facebook and said she was a little shocked to find him posted as "In an Open Relationship".

(I have to note she told me he was listed as both interested in "Men and Women". I never knew him to be 'interested' in men. But that was some time ago. I guess that's a whole other blog...)

Let me also note, this guy messed me up. Hardcore. The mind games, lies, the disappointments, the times he left me all alone on a street corner or at a party, the times he forgot me, the other girls... so many girls. I was played and everyone knew and didn't tell me. I was the fool, the joke of everyone. He was/is a true sociopath. And for those that think I'm illiterating, not this time. He literally had a "pervasive pattern of disregard for, and violation of, the rights of others..." (taken from the APA) It basically means, in his case, a lack of empathy, irresponsibility, disregard for social norms and rules, lacking a feeling of guilt for wrong doing, and blaming others for their situations. Throw in some massive maniplations and charisma and that is Paul. There is no treatment that has been found effective yet. His parents had sent him to a shrink some years ago but it didn't take.

Never in my life have I been more humiliated, hurt and angry about a relationship. I heard he had been working at a sandwhich shop I had visited a few months ago and the idea that we could have been in the same building make me have a small yet alarming panic attack. It's a pain that I have yet to work through.

But I digress. My high school friend and I begain to discuss the idea of an open relationship. She thought them to be a total farce, a lie girls would tell themselves or was told to them by the boyfriends/husbands that can't keep it in their pants. I countered that it isn't always the case. There are some people that really feel that they can love more than one. I think there are some who can pull that off. I don't think it ends well most of the time though.

I told her thought that it seems obvious that in Paul's case, the idea of an open relationship is mearly a ploy some poor girl was talked into so that he could have free reign of any of the girls he wanted without losing this one girl. That's what he did to me. I hope for this girl's sake, I'm wrong and she wants this open relationship as much as he does.

Even a one time only extra partner, even one agreed upon by both people, rarely ends well. I know I'm not one of those people that can have my husband, boyfriend, whomever, sleeping with someone else for any reason and be 'ok' with it... But that's me.

Things ended with Paul quietly. I was moving to New York and decided it was a good time to break away since I couldn't seem to find a way to do it while still living so close to him. He fought to keep me but only a little. After he stopped calling, he sent me an email saying he was dating someone with my same name.

I'm going to be truthful and say the thing you're not supposed to say: I used to wish him harm. I used to have fantasies that he would be hit by a car and while lying in the hospital, his brains rescrambled, rewired to feel empathy, guilt, love, finally realized what he had done to all the people in his life he had screwed over. His parents, whom he had stolen, lied and scammed over and over. His friends whom he manipulated into doing the things he wanted. And all the girls that he lied to, hurt, said that they were the only ones. All without a shred of guilt or empathy for those he hurt. Or sometimes I would just fantasize about him just getting hit by a car.

Even though those thought sometimes creep into my head when his name is brought up, I mostly pity him now. Pity that he will never know true love. Pity that no one with any self respect can love him. Pity that he will forever be search for that something missing within him, a kind a fullfillment that will never come. And as I understand it he spends his time searching through drugs, young girls and escape on trips with his father's money.

I'll hang on to my empathy and monogomy, thanks.

My love affair with the burrito

I'm in love.

With no man or beast (minds out of the gutter please...) but with an inanimate object. An edible object of maximum and overwhelming deliciousity. I am, of course, speaking of Chipotle.

I want to be clear: this is not an advertisement. Not that I would turn down any money Chipotle wanted to give me being that I'm homeless now... I don't wear logo shirts or carry Louis Vuitton bags for the same reason. If I'm not being paid, why would I advertise for you? But for this, I gladly debase myself for the pure pleasure that is The Burrito.

My order is a chicken burrito with mild and hot tomato salsa, pinto beans, lettuce, cheese, guacamole and a side of chips to which I then eat like taco salad. It's love wrapped in a warm, soft tortilla. It's total perfection. It's lunch and dinner because I'm so damn full I couldn't eat anything else.

Sure, it's about a 1000 calories of tasty variety of joyous flavors but you gotta take a hit to get that glorious yumminess in you tummy. I skip breakfast, no snacks, go for a run or all of the above just to get my hands on my one true love. (That's burrito love... I still love you most, TMS! Don't be so jealous.)

For the longest time, our love was secret. I didn't tell any of my friends about our afternoon rendezvous. They would ask, "Why aren't you hungry? Have some of my goulash..." or "You're never hungry; do you hate my goulash?" I couldn't tell them that I wolfed down any entire burrito by myself just moments before. (Or that their goulash sucks.) This dainty chick who scoffs at fast food was in love with a food that was delivered quite fast. I would sneak the brown bag with my stash into my room, bolt the door and just bask in the glow of my perfectly made burrito. But now, everything is different. I'm coming out.

I'm here to say, no, shout it to the heavens!

I love Chipotle and I don't care who knows!

Me.

This is me.

I'm not an idealized version of myself or a plastic doll. I'm not faking it to manipulate you to get what I want. It's not a game.

I am an intelligent, beautiful woman. I thank G-d for my many blessing. I have a wonderful home, great family, the best friends. I also forget to brush my teeth some nights and I don't wash my hair everyday. I laugh at dick jokes. I swear to make a sailor blush. Sometimes, I buy a moonpie and eat it while I sit on the hood of my car. I have muffin top.

I love the theater. Opera, musical, avaunt garde. I frequent many gallery openings. I've had season tickets to the symphony, donated to my city's arts council and attended my share of charity events. I also go to the state fair and eat corn dogs, ride the roller coasters until I'm dizzy. I like to watch cartoons and eat cereal in my pajamas, the ones with flamingos and beach balls. And I think Totino's pizza is the best drunken snack food ever.

My library is full of classics, new and old. I have 1st editions, volumed sets. I also have Vanity Fair photo books, true crime books and beach reads. I read the New York Times and fashion blogs. I love comics.

I can talk your ear off about WW2 history, the American circus, art, film and almost everything about animals. I can also tell you about James Dean's last meal before he crashed his Porche Spyder or who 'Brangelina' is. I can make you a light and crispy croquette. Or a white trash casserole. I'd be happy with either one.

I spent money at the nicest places in the world: Hermes, The Wynn, haute coutor in Paris and ridiculous extravagance all over. I also buy toilet paper at Target.

I do my yoga almost everyday and watch what I eat. I love my healthy body. But sometimes I smoke and drink hard liquor, stay out too late.

It's called contradiction. Enigma. It's not logical and sensible. I don't care.

I'm well read, educated and thoughtful. And sometimes the things that come out of my mouth are plain stupid. I get drunk and say things I shouldn't. I mispronounce words and sometimes I stutter. I've been rude, crude and embarrassing at times. I get overwhelmed, depressed and angry sometimes. I make mistakes. Because I'm human and I'm not perfect.

I'm not apologizing and I'm not afraid.

It's just who I am. I love me. And I love you too, with all your quarks and flaws. I won't pick and choose which ones I want to keep and which ones to toss. You can keep them all and I'll love you no matter what.

We are perfect.

10 things to be happy about

Time for some positive vibes up in this bitch...

1. Recipes
Sure I'm flat broke but I'm making these freakin' recipes. One for some kind of insane jalapeno popper DIP (liquid poppers?! yes please.) and oatmeal served in a pumpkin!! I like food that's served in another food.

2. Bread
I'm not allowed to have bread. It's carby and delicious and I can't stop eating it. But today, I ate warm-from-the-oven, fresh, handmade bread that TMS made and I don't feel bad at all. Fuck you carbs! I'm eating pure home made love...

3. Chipotle
See my previous post about this one. The Chipotle Post

4. http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/
Hot damn, that girl is F-U-N-N-Y. So funny, she makes me spell. I sit there and giggle to myself and when The Mad Scientist asks me what's so damn funny, I read out loud about raping Orks and show him the stick drawings while I laugh so hard I actually drool on myself.

5.The Compliment
TMS told me that I'm beautiful when I smile and I should smile more. Perhaps I should.

6. Arts and Crafts
Yes, I am making a holiday wreath out of toilet paper rolls and spray paint! Thanks for noticing! ...it is beautiful, isn't it?

7. My best friends
I didn't have real friends as a non-child until I was 21. I was pretty much friendless from 13 on. That's a long time when you're a kid. That's why I have so much love and appreciation for my friends now. They have done things for me that no one else has ever done. They constantly go above and beyond the call and for that, I love them always.

8.Reading Time
Now that I find myself unemployed, I have a lot of time on my hands. Regardless, I am grateful for my extra reading time. You know how you always say to yourself, "If I had more time, there are so many things I want to read..." Well sometimes that comes true in the worst way. But that doesn't make the reading any worse. "Something Wicked This Way Comes" is so wonderful to read with the weather turning cold and the leaves changing.

9.Ice Cream
I find it a bit disturbing that 3 out of the 10 things are food. No wonder I feel like a load. But I digress. Gelato, frozen yogurt, it's all ice cream to me. It's cold, sugary and on a cone and I don't give a good damn if it's 12 degrees out. Gimme!

10. Sex
It's biological... it just makes you feel good. As long as it's not the  dreaded 'bad sex', which is pretty rare as long as you're careful, you can't help but feel better about things.


So fuck you negitivity. Happy. Take that.