The Catherinette Chronicles

Once I accepted the request, I did what anyone in her right mind would do. I started looking at his pics to see if there were any good ones. Well, I’m pleased to report there were. I’m also pleased to report that I felt it important to get some validation from other individuals with discerning taste. People, he has a glorious body. I’m not gonna lie, it’s nice. So nice, in fact, that even Claude approves.

Here’s where the lucky part comes in: I’ve seen his hot body naked. Naked and breathless beneath me. Let’s be honest here, that’s the best way to see a hot naked body. And here’s the better part: the 2 guys that I had after him, also hot when naked. Like fire. Like hot fire that burns me-but not in a way that requires prescription cream to get rid of the burn.

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Since Lit’l Smokey and I have both broken up with our significant others, we spend a lot of time bonding with one another.  And by “bonding with”, I mean “bitching too.”  First one of us will take a turn bashing the ex or talking about how sad we are, and then the other one goes.  It’s kind of healing in a way, plus it’s always a bonus talking to him because he’s just so darn cute.

Just like any other day for the last few weeks, Lit’l Smokey made his way to my cubicle.  There he was, sitting in my extra chair looking all dreamy and battered.  When I opened my mouth to say something comforting to him, I accidentally called him 3D. 

Oops…

In preparation for the bad decision I’m planning on making about 3D, I did a little online shopping.

I’m a bachelorette, and every bachelorette needs at least one hot outfit.  I’m not talking jeans with a cute top.  I’m talking about the matching set that you wear under the jeans and cute top. 

Having been with 3D several times, he’s all too familiar with the lingerie in my collection. Now, granted, there’s not a whole lot of exciting stuff in my collection, there were one or two (or seven) pieces that he was fond of.  Well, if (and when) he happens to get me behind closed doors (or at least near a flat surface), I’ve decided that I’ll need something new.  Something that will inspire him, so to speak.

So consider my collection spiced up.  Nothing says klassy (with a k) like panties with fringe.  Black lace panties with fringe.  Crotchless ones.

I’m doing this for you, reading public. 

Night time is the hardest part of the day.  It’s when I’m alone with my thoughts and there’s nothing left to distract me.  I lay awake in bed, with the pillows piled up behind me.  Every once in awhile, when I wake up in the middle of the night, I back up into the pillows.  Once or twice, in my drowsy state I believed it was him.  Last night, I reached for his hand, only to find his side of the bed empty.

This is the hardest part.  Knowing I’ve made the right decision, but not having let go of what I feel for him.  I’ve never experienced a break up quite like this.  He’s not right for me, I know that, but I still love him.  I didn’t end things with him because I didn’t care.  Had that been the case, this would all be much easier.  So now I find that I question everything, and I’ve reached that stage where I glorify everything about him.

I manage to keep myself together most of the time.  But there are random moments when the tears creep up on me and I can’t make them stop.  It happens while I’m at work.  Or driving down the road.  In a movie theatre.  At a friend’s house.  Visiting with my family.  Something inside of me whispers, “Never again.  He will never be yours again.”  When I hear that, I feel as though my heart is being crushed, and then the lump begins to grow.  A lump that has lodged itself in my throat-one that just won’t seem to go away. 

I put up a facade for everyone. 

“I’m fine.”

“I’ll be okay.”

“He’s a jerk and I hate him.”

But I’m not fine.  I don’t know when I’ll be okay.  He’s not a jerk, and I don’t hate him.  I will never hate him.  I wish I did.  This would be so much easier if I could hate him.  If he would do something to make everything that I feel for him just go away.  Erase it.  I don’t want to love him anymore.  I don’t want to think about him anymore.  I just want it all to go away.  All of it.  But the thought of all of those things leaving me makes me anxious.  I begin to panic at the thought of forgetting things about him and our time together.  Those are memories I never want to lose.  I’m afraid of forgetting so many things.  As if letting those memories will lessen what it all meant.  Will just make this whole thing into a small part of my life.  But it doesn’t feel small, I don’t ever want it to be small.

There are random memories that roll through my mind… 

• We made paper airplanes the night we met.  We had a little contest in the bar parking lot to see who’s would go the furthest.  I lost.  I still have the airplanes.  I can’t quite make myself get rid of them.  Not just yet.
• Our first kiss was in his pick up truck.  We’d been playing a board game and the winner got to choose what he or she wanted.  I threw the game.  He wanted our first kiss to be in his truck.  He had never kissed anyone in the truck, and he wanted me to be his first. 
• There were 3 more kisses that night: one while I was sitting on his lap after having lost the rematch.  Another kiss when we took a walk at the local college campus at 1:00 in the morning.  The final kiss for the night was in the middle of the street in front of my car.
• Our last kiss was in his house.  On a Tuesday night, after midnight when I was leaving him to come home.  I didn’t know that it would be our last one.  I wish I did, I would have remembered it better.  I know he wouldn’t have been wearing a shirt.  I know I had my hair pulled back. 
• He has a smattering of freckles on the right side of his torso.  He joked that there are 3 that form the Bermuda Triangle of Love (BTOL).  Once you’re in, there’s no escaping-you’re lost forever.  But it’s not those freckles that I find myself missing.  There’s a freckle on the left side of his lower lip.  This one was my favorite.  This was the one that I greeted with a kiss whenever I saw him, and the hardest one to kiss goodbye. 
• Sometimes I would sing to him.  When we’d go to bed at night, and he would kiss me, I woud whisper into his mouth.  This always made him smile-he found it endearing.  When I hear the songs I would sing to him, I can’t help but wish he were with me.  And I think, “just one more song.”
• The fist time I heard “Everything” (Buck Cherry) we were in his bedroom.  It was dark out, and the blinds were up.  I was standing in the doorway of his closet.  He leaned me up against the right side of the door frame, and he kissed me.  Things began to escalate.  As he reached for me, he realized that the neighbors could see into the window.  I didn’t want to stop.  The song had ended it and “Let it Die” (Foo Fighters) was playing.
• The night he told me he loved me was a Thursday.  We were in my bedroom and I knew he was going to tell me.  I had known all week that it was coming, and something had happened earlier in the day that led me to believe that he would tell me that night.  I played dumb.  I told him I would never say it until he said it first.

And the bad stuff?  The night that I cried myself to sleep because I felt so lost.  The anxiety from having to talk one more time about something he was insecure about.  The arguements about Un-boyfriend.  The way he looked at me when I packed all my things at his house.  All of that I can forget.  Just erase it from my memory.  Make it never have existed.  Leave me with only the good things.  That’s all I want.  Just the good things, and that freckle.

How long does it take to memorize the lines of someone’s body?  How long does it take to forget those same lines? 

Never again.  He will never be yours again.

I’m fine.

I’ll be okay.

Go ahead, envy me.  I know you want to.  Here I am, living the dream.  You know which dream I’m talking about.  The single girl’s dream.

Here I am, on a typical Saturday night, and I”ve spent it just how you wish you could spend yours.  Cocktails with friends?  Nope.  A fine dining experience at a trendy new restaurant?  Nope.  Hot date with some hot stud that leads to kinky tantric sex?  Nope, not that one either. 

Instead, I went to the movies with my mom.  No, wait, it gets better.  After our matinee, we went grocery shopping.  Let me tell you, nothing wreaks of desparation like being at the grocery store at 9:00 on a Saturday night.  Talk about freaking pathetic. 

Tell me that’s not one of the biggest freaking rocks that you’vever seen? How could I possibly turn something like that down? The second I saw it, I knew that it belonged on my finger.

So I went ahead and asked my girlfriend to let me borrow it for a little while. A little while turned into 4 hours. Yeah, that’s not my ring-though I wish it were.

My girlfriend convinced her husband to upgrade her ring. As the both of them live in the manner to which I would like to be accustomed, he had plenty of dough to accomodate her request. I’ve already asked them if they would be willing to adopt me. Her husband offered to do a little “Big Love” arrangement. I’m going to be wife number 2. That’s fine with me. I don’t freaking care as long as there’s a ring like that on my finger.

So, in additon to saying “yes” to borrowing my friend’s ring while at her house this afternoon, there were a few other things I said “yes” to:

• Drinking 5 margaritas, and 2 other drinks. Mmm…nothing like going swimming when you’re hammered.
• Doing a back dive off the diving board. This turned into a belly flop. So hot.
• Losing my shoe and sunglasses. How does one manage to lose a god damned shoe at someone’s house? I’ll tell you how: by drinking 5 margaritas and 2 other drinks.
• Doing a face plant into a rose bush. So graceful. Especially the part when I hit my face on the railing of the diving board first. I have the biggest bruise on my left hip right now. Gee, too bad no one is going to see me naked to admire it.
• Did I mention I had 5 margaritas and 2 drinks?

You know what’s wicked awesome?  Being THAT girl.  I hate it when I turn into her.  He hasn’t emailed me at all today.  Not once.  So, of course, the desparationg sets in.  Umm, last time I checked, I was the one that wanted to cut off all communication.  And I didn’t.  The emails start again, he BEGS me to go out with him, I say no, he keeps trying, I keep saying now.  Then he has the audacity to stop emailing me. 

Clearly he didn’t stop emailing me because he’s trying to protect himself and move on.  Or because he felt like I totally rejected him-several times.  And it absolutely can’t be that he didn’t email me because he had laser eye surgery today.  I mean, really, there has to be some other explanation.  Right??

It’s quite possible that I’ve lost my mind.  That’s the only viable explanation…

Thank freaking God that I haven’t mentioned any of this to my friends.  I can practically hear the lectures that they’d be giving me right about. now.

Oh, and just in case he decides to wise up and write to me, I’m going to go ahead and leave my email up so I can immediately read it.  For the love, someone kill me and put me out of my pathetic misery.

Oh how I heart taking time off of work. It’s one of my favorite past times, right behind doing it, mocking people, and enjoying a delicious cocktails with friends. There’s a special kind of joy in sleeping in and knowing your poor, poor friends had to drag themselves out of bed at some ungodly hour so they could take it from “the man” or take care of their kids.

You can imagine my dismay when I woke up, not at 10:00 like I was aiming for, but at 8:15. Thank you, stupid dump truck. No. Really. It means a lot to me.

For some unknown reason, there is a dump truck idling outside my house-parked directly in front of my house. Clearly it’s main purpose is to ruin my slumber. Stupid bastards.

I had plans for today. I really did! I was going to enjoy sleeping in the middle of my bed until mid morning. Then I was actually going to get up and mow the lawn. The weeds and small woodland creatures are taking over my yard. They need to be dealt with, STAT! Here’s the thing, I’m not mowing my lawn in front of some truck driver. Surely, he’ll whistle and make cat calls at me while I’m sweating and pushing the mower. Or perhaps he will think, “Look! A Mexican mowing her lawn.” Then perhaps he will shout, “Hey, Mexican, bring me a taco!”

Stupid truck. Now my plans are ruined. Now I’ll have to change my plans completely. Obviously, this calls for surfing the interwebs until he leaves. Or at least until he gets bored and moves his stupid truck.

On the otherhand, I wouldn’t mind a catcall or two.

I’m wavering on my decision about not seeing 3D.  It’s not even been a week and I miss him like crazy.  Ugh, stupid weaknesses!!  The latest is that we’ve started communicating via email-he wants to talk on the phone, and I told him no.  He’s begging me for just one date. 

One date. 

What’s the harm in that?  Here’s the harm: I have zero self control when it comes to him.  I can’t resist that freckle on his lip and he knows it.  All he has to do is smile at me and I could melt right into him.    I know where this is heading and I know where I’ll wind up. 

One date will give me too much hope, and I’ll end up in tears and telling myself that I should have known better.  But for that one fleeting moment, where I’m reunited with that freckle, it’ll all be worth it. 

I know what my decision will be.  And I know that I’ll pay for making it.

You warned me this was going to happen.

You told me that I should just stay away.

Well, I didn’t listen. I went ahead and decided to give 3D another shot-gave him the benefit of the doubt that we loved each other enough to try to work things out. Yeah, not so much.

Last Friday we talked things out and I set down some boundaries. He complied, but he still acted like the needy, insecure guy that he is. We had to have a discussion about feelings every single night since Friday. Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m not the “let’s talk about feelings until we’re both blue in the face” kind of girl. Frankly, talking about feelings makes me want to throw myself out the nearest window. 3D, on the other hand, thinks it’s important to communicate every second of every waking day. “It’s what you do in a relationship,” he says, “Communication is important.” Yeah, it’s important to communicate, but not so much that it gets in the way of breathing. Really? Before the 3 month mark in a relationship, there shouldn’t be that freaking much that you have to work out.

But I digress…

So, we gave it another shot, and we ended up having all these stupid lame asstalks about feelings and bumps in the road and why won’t you just love me, and why don’t you want to be with me all the time, and I know you said you needed your space tonight but can I see you anyway. Needless to say, this was not turning out the way that I had hoped. It’s as if he had gone from my dreamy dreamboat to Captain Needy McNeederton from Needyville. Seriously, shoot me in the face. I can’t handle all that insecurity.

The final straw happened last night. I talked to him at about 7:30 while I was on my way to therapy. At the end of the conversation I told him that I would just talk to him tomorrow (which is now today. It’s crazy how that whole time thing works.), and he got kind of needyquiet. He then asked, “Why’s that?” I had to explain to him that I just wanted to be by myself afterwards, so he proceeded to get cranky and we said goodnight.

At 9:50 he sends me the following text message: Hon, I know you said you wanted your space tonight. I just need to know that everything is ok between you and I.

For the love!! For the freaking love of things and stuff. Really? You can’t let me have one night? Not one god damned night to myself? My first reaction was to call him back and tell him everything was fine (which was a lie), but I was afraid we’d have to talk about feelings again. Then I thought I’d just text message him in the morning and told him that I didn’t get his message (another lie). Then I wondered, how bad are things that I’d rather lie to him to save myself the trouble of dealing with this?

I’ve been dreading having to have “the talk” with him. He’s clever, he’s manipulative, I was sure that he would talk me out of it. He knows just what to say, and what to do. Let’s be honest, he can play me like a violin-he’s that good. So I decided that email would be the way to go. Self preservation, that’s my justification. I can’t afford to put myself in a situation where I’m going to walk away with doubts, or worse yet, not walk away at all. It’s like he was beating the spirit out of me, and I just didn’t want to put myself in that position anymore.

Long email, all eloquent and shit.

Feelings, blah blah, control issues, blah blah we tried, blah blah can’t do this, blah blah sexually compatible, blah blah glass half full blah blah this isn’t working blah blah you can’t change my mind blah blah can’t give you what you need blah blah communication blah blah feelings blah blah love blah blah no future blah blah blame blah blah peace out, Homes.

I think you get the picture. So, I end the message by telling him that I don’t want to talk things out and that I don’t want to see him because it would make things harder. I hit send.

He responds (like I knew he would). At the end of his message, he writes, “Can you still take me to XYZ on Thursday? I really can’t ask anyone to take off that day.” WHAT??

Umm…no.