I’ve been haunted by a ghost every night since you left.
He shows up only when my thoughts have quieted.
He looks like possibility, and sounds just like you.
You were inconsistent, and especially dismissive.
I found your polo shirts annoying, and your attachment to your “boys” unappealing.
You took up all of the space in the room with your obnoxious laugh.
it’s taken-up permanent residence in my mind and haunts me in the in my moments of quiet.
To drown it out, I think about how the sun touches down on the earth, kissing her daily
…and how warm that unfailing embrace must feel.
I wonder if the earth misses the sun in the dark of winter as much as I miss your obnoxious laugh in the silence of night.
I will never be a “chill chick” or good at being a millennial in the dating world. I don’t like unspoken understandings, and pretending I’m “cool” with never being clear on where things are headed.
A while back I realized that I was constantly settling for unspoken sentiments and understandings in my romantic life -which happens to be a huge fucking trend among millennials. I was dating someone who I felt was constantly letting me down, and they never actually apologized for their fuck-ups. I just got gifts and an abundance of attention for, what felt like, five minutes… and then everything resumed to it’s regularly scheduled awkward avoidance. I had settled for them so much so, that I realized we never really defined our relationship or where it was going…because awkward conversations were avoided at all costs. We had such a flimsy foundation in our relationship that the only way any obstacle was ever addressed was through bouts of ignoring followed by petty arguing… so mind-games.
I never thought I would be someone who would contribute to such a rotten aspect of the dating world, but I was! I played mind-games and I was good at it… gross!
That’s what I had resorted to in this relationship, because I was terrified of asking for clarification and demanding more out of a partner. I genuinely think a lot of game playing boils down to how unwilling we ALL are to be vulnerable and to be honest about our intentions and feelings. With this lack of communication comes so much insecurity that usually leads to settling for unspoken sentiments and understandings.
Now, I’m not talking about the occasional unspoken sentiments that will occur among loved ones. I’m talking the situations that we find ourselves in when we haven’t defined our relationships, because no one likes to have difficult conversations anymore. I’m talking the unspoken fights and makeups we have, because no one likes voicing that their feelings are hurt or they feel undervalued in their relationship.
Unfortunately, this whole “unspoken understanding” concept is one that has reappeared throughout my dating life a lot. It had been a very annoying trend for me, because much like many other women in our society, I’m terrified of sounding assumptive and demanding and contributing towards all of those “crazy chick” stereotypes. But honestly, fuck stereotypes. I don’t really care if I’m associated with that rude label anymore, because I’d rather be myself than pretending I’m comfortable in a situation I really can’t stand.
To break the cycle, I decided a while back to stop giving credit to people who haven’t earned it. I no longer settle for the unspoken sentiment or understanding. I refuse to accept situations that go undefined. They make me wildly uncomfortable. I love labels (and label makers, FYI), so I need clarification in my relationships. I will NOT commit myself to someone who hasn’t been forward and open about being committed to me. I can’t stand the situationships where it’s not discussed whether we’re exclusive and heading in a “together” direction. Assuming we’re on the same page as someone else who has their own unique mind and set of beliefs is absolute insanity, in my opinion.
This is all just one more example of how “unchill” and horrible at being a millennial I am.
To be continued,
I made a list of all the words I should have said to you.
They turned into a book; the kind of book that you can read over and over, and still learn something new.
But there was a certain way the words looked to me every night.
They spelled out something sinister, and somehow never looked quite right.
They would stare me in the face and mock me for not understanding them.
And as soon as I’d start to figure it out, they would mix themselves up again.
The story never changes though.
It’s always the story of me and you, and all the things we’d never make it through.
And I guess somehow, before I even wrote it, I always knew.
I’ve memorized the lines but can’t quite figure out what to do.
When my arms reach out, grabbing nothing but air as if the emptiness is trying to give me a clue.
When I stop breathing to try and hear your heartbeat just once more, until my body starts to turn blue.
My God, what am I supposed to do when my sheets no longer smell like you?
First of all, who the fuck actually does that!?
And second: am I the only one who finds it incredibly condescending when someone says “you’ll meet him/her when the timing is right. It just has to happen organically.”??? -I like the idea of not having to put forth effort, but nothing actually happens organically. I’d love to say I’m not pushy, but I am. I’m always making moves to get things accomplished. Nothing great in my life has ever happened organically. I had to put in a sufficient amount of effort to make ANYTHING work.
I’m 25, and have been dating for a decade. Yes, there are women out there who have been dating in their adulthood a lot longer than I, but I’m exhausted.
My type has gone from so narrow and picky that it was comedic, to “must be a decent human being, with whom I can have great conversations and moments with.” -I obviously want to be attracted to them, but I tend to find intellect and a mutual connection more attractive with my aging. He doesn’t have to be freakishly tall, foreign, funny, bilingual, 5+ years older, dark, and handsome. <I told you it was comedic>
He can be a normal human being, because I am a normal human being. I mean, I think I’m a catch, but I’m not Giselle Bündchen.
So, how the F**K do I go about “bumping into” this normal and sophisticated gent in an organic fashion? ….Do I hover over Tolstoy at the old bookstore, with hopes that I’ll have a meetcute with some cutie who ALSO is obsessed with early 19th century literature? -Come on, guys… that’s not actually a thing. Meeting people organically is total bullshit. So, until then… the cutie in the produce section will have to do.
To Be Continued,
Kevin now has his own corner on Basic&Bipolar. Enjoy his beautiful words below, and under the menu option “It’s All Copacetic“.
I can hardly remember the way you tossed your hair; something I’ve studied on numerous occasions. I catch glimpses now and again as trees reach out and swing their branches in the wind. And the wind still carries your scent, following me everywhere I go, urging me to look back and see you standing there. But I still have trouble remembering the way you tossed your hair.
I can hardly relive the flashbacks of your lips pressing tightly together and melting away from mine only to tease; like a newly blossomed rosebud opening for the bees and then withering away the second it slips in. Then hunger ensues; hunger for your lips. But I still have trouble reliving those flashbacks.
I can hardly feel your hands. I imagine they would be lost in mine, our fingers intertwined like the mossy overhang on our front porch door. Our front door, it creaked slightly when you crept in, opening it slowly to soften the sound.
Oh, I can hardly recall the sound! The sound of your voice as it trembles beneath a whisper, forcing out those words. And I’m still holding onto those words. You said that if I left there’s no way you’d survive.
Then you left…so, are you still alive? I can hardly recall.
I’m Chris P. Bacon.
The name is fitting, I’m sure you’ll come to understand. I’m a new contributor for B&B. Here I’ll be expressing my feelings, frustrations, highs, and lows surrounding my relationship with food. All kinds of food. The healthy kind of food. The not so healthy kind of food. The kind of food that not even running a 5k could make you forget about. I’ve never run a 5k…but I highly doubt it would make me want to forget about pizza… or bacon.
Sometimes I’m a hard core dieter. The kind of hard core dieter where cleanses are involved, pills, shakes, meal replacements, etc., you name it – I’ve probably tried it. Other times, I’m a binge eater. A serious binge eater where its Chinese take out for dinner, fast food for lunch, and leftover cake from a relative’s birthday celebration for breakfast.
Don’t get me wrong- I’d love to see myself in something less than a size 12 in my life time. But oh the struggle is real trying to find a place between happy and healthy when all I really want to do is eat macaroons.
I’m on this journey of balance. But for now, you’ll hear me bitch about needing to run but wanting that burrito a little bit more. I’ll get that six pack… one day.