April 27, 2007:


I thought I found someone authentic, compassionate, caring, loving, wild, strong…all that good crap. We talked about living together. I wanted to. He wanted to. We got along great. Sex was incredible. I was even ‘nesting’ while I was at his house. Which, by the way, was nearly everyday that I didn’t have my children with me. I missed him when he was gone and I loved every moment we were together.

Today, before I made my final trek home after being with him for 7 straight days I wrote him a letter (which is something I always did when I would leave, I liked knowing he had a piece of me still there when he came home from work since I couldn’t be there myself). In the letter I voiced a concern I’d had and basically let him know I wanted to work on the issue (it was nothing big, not like what was to come). It ended up being 3 pages and I ended it, “I love you”, signed it and started to gather up the rest of my things. I then noticed that his computer was still on and because I know he’d used his webcam to record me without my knowledge of it before I got curious and moved the mouse. He ALWAYS made sure his computer was turned off. I said to myself out loud, “oh hell no, he better not have recorded me again”, half-joking. My curiosity went into cruise control and I clicked his start menu. When I went into his recent documents I was looking for a work file I made for him a few nights ago that he deleted by mistake and I thought I may be able to retrieve it in history there. I also wasn’t NOT (heh heh gotta love THAT double negative!) looking for videos he took of me while I didn’t know he was recording. I saw a file that was titled the same name as a “baby sitter” that came to watch his son last week. I clicked it thinking I was going to see a video of me and that he had hidden it under a different name in case I got onto his computer at some point and poked around. Was I ever wrong!

The media player loaded and I recognized his bedspread. I looked at the file timer and it said the video was 1:21 hours long. Pulled up the properties and saw it had been created within the past week. The video rolled on…there he is, sitting in his boxers on the end of his bed playing golf on his Xbox. Same position I’d seen him in so many times. But his face looked different. Not like I’d seen in my presence ever. He looked nervous. I jumped forward in time and he had left the room. I could hear him faintly through the microphone talking to someone. I still was expecting to see me come flying in but I heard a feminine voice responding to him and it wasn’t mine. I skipped forward again. He’s lying on his bed luring her to him. I skipped forward. She’s sucking his cock. Skip. He’s using a vibe on her now. Skip. Now they’re fucking. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I was (and still am) in absolute shock! I just let it continue to play.

While it played I wrote another note to him and left it and the first note on his desk. I got all my things and loaded them into my car for the last time. I went in one last time to make sure I had gotten all my belongings and thought about the night before as I stood looking in from his front door.

I had made dinner for us. He slept through it. I was hurt by that. He never said sorry or even a measly thank you for what I did. Not only did I make the dinner, I bought all the ingredients and then some. I thought about the ice cream I bought too. His favorite that he & his son sat eating, each with their own spoon, right out of the container in front of me. He brought 2 spoons in with him, one for him & one for his son. He sat at his desk, his son was at my feet sitting on the end of the bed and I was laying down to sleep. I watched them and commented on their double dipping. His son asked if I wanted some. I said no. I was too disappointed that he didn’t care that I was sad at what happened with dinner and then more sad that I wasn’t even thought of when he got the spoons for the ice cream. I just wanted sleep.

Scanning the room, making a final mental picture of his home, saying goodbye in my own way..I remembered the ice cream. I beelined for the freezer, took out the tub and made for the front door again. I went out, shut the door behind me and placed the ice cream on his front porch. It was over 90 degrees outside. I walked to my car and drove away crying.

Looking back to when I asked him about this babysitter he assured me nothing happened. Ha! “looking back”? It was just this week! You slept on the couch, huh? So his defense is it happened before he loved me. It happened WITHIN this past week! Then I’m accused of INVADING HIS PRIVACY! Hmmm, that’s odd. I don’t remember giving him permission to record me in his room without my knowledge when he leaves me there alone. Then I’m accused of NOT BEING READY FOR A RELATIONSHIP LIKE THIS! No, I’ll never ever be ready for that…it’s not even what I’d consider a “RELATIONSHIP” if you’re fucking some skank plucked off the corner behind your [supposed] “BELOVED’s” back! I’m positive that this was NOT the first time either! Fucking liar!

j o u r n e y

More than two months have passed since I last spoke to my ex-boyfriend and now I have someone new in my life. It has been a very long time (if ever) since I felt a connection like this with someone. I hate to compare but the differences between the two relationships I’ve had in the last 14 months are unmistakable. But what is even more eye opening to me is the difference in me.

I am a very intense person. I am truly relentless. But this time, this new relationship I feel different. I don’t feel obsessive. I don’t feel as if I need to constantly prove that I am worthy to be there. I don’t feel that the “hunt and capture” needs to continue each time we see one another. I do feel safe & relaxed. The best part of all is that I am not hiding anything. I am an open book and I don’t feel the slightest apprehension about sharing anything with him.

He and I are from opposite sides of the tracks. He is rich with character, morals, love, compassion, will-power, good family-values. He paid his dues in his own way to gain those traits. And me, well, my traits weren’t necessarily paid for by any means, but if they could have been mom would have bought them, probably 10 of them each, just in case she might run low someday. If you know what I mean?

What am I writing this for? Oh yeah…I remember now. Since I have been preoccupied, both mind & body, with my beau I haven’t had as much desire to write. It perplexed me at first and I started to feel a sense of failure. After thinking about it I realized I typically only feel compelled to write when I feel sad, lonely, depressed or angry. Not when things are going well. When I’m hurting inside is when it flows out the best. Some of my favorite (and some of the blog readers favorites) were created when I was ultimately at my lowest point. Why is that? I thought about something someone (thank you Bill) told me recently when we were discussing why I hadn’t written for a while. He said (I don’t remember it word for word, so I’ll fill it in the way I perceived the statement),

“well, you know what they say? Artists suffer for their art”

They do? I didn’t know that. He went on to tell me a few short stories about famous artists who publicly “suffered” for their inspiration to create their best work. I pretended to know who & what he was talking about but I really didn’t know the details he was referring to (sorry Bill). So I decided to Google it and low and behold, he was right! I found several articles backing up his theory that: 


It went on further to say that artists would actually fabricate trauma in their life in order to have inspiration to create. Through the years, studies were done and psychotherapy was prescribed for those that suffered in a destructive way and artists were taught a new way to spark their inspiration. I’m glad I looked into that statement because I was feeling uninspired to write simply because I am happy now. People use every emotion as a muse for their creativity. I am now learning to feel the happiness as deeply as I feel the pain and can also feel the direction my writing will take because of it.