Guest Blogger – 1foot: Okay. I’ll Be Honest.

(This post is part of an awesome series of awesome 25swf guest bloggers- read about them here!)

In an attempt to get in touch with how I truly feel about things right now so that I can decide what to do later, I would like to try honesty and NOT over-editing this post.

I miss ___. I do. I didn’t think I would still miss him this far on. It’s been 1 year, 2 months, and 26 days since we officially broke up, and 5 months and 20days since I asked him not to contact me anymore and quit talking to him. I still think that was a good choice, all things considered, and I’m not regretting that or missing our romantic relationship.

What I miss is having a friend, with whom I was completely and utterly honest, who knew more about me than a lot of people, and lived 15 minutes away. I have some friends like that now, but life and distance (distance is a big one) get in the way a lot of times. I’m not really one to bring up my problems unless we’re in close proximity (with each other or with my problems), or if you force me to tell you or ask point blank. I don’t know, maybe I’d rather everyone just understood what was going on in my head and offered to help whenever I needed it, magically guessing when I needed something. It’s hard when I want to reach out to someone and then think, nooooo… they’re probably enjoying their night, or their morning, or are busy with things, or happily going through their day with nary a thought of me in their head. UGH. That sounds so self-pitying. I don’t pity myself. I just don’t think that my problems matter much to other people. WHAAAAT. That’s dumb. I definitely have people to whom I know my problems matter. I know that. I just have a very, very difficult time reaching out, for some reason. I had a period after the relationship ended where I was better about talking about how I felt, about reaching out when I was sad, or when I missed him. Then after a few months I decided I was annoying everyone around me because they’d get (or I’d imagine they’d get) that distant look in their eye when I brought up his name. Continue reading

PURGE 2: June 16, 2010

Think about where you were a year ago…

Today, 365 days ago, I was here.

“Ultimately you are rude and you don’t care about me. You talked demeaning about my mother. I cannot handle that. You have been around her twice in your life and I ask you to not be on your phone as much and you react with hate and malice. I see your parents, sister, and grandma many times and enjoy their company– interacting with them, making an effort. You can’t do the same for me for barely 24 hours. Thank you for teaching me a lot. I know you will go on to do great things in your life. Unfortunately it will not be with me. When the realization hits that it’s not all about you I think you will understand what you have lost and why you have lost it. We can still go to Alaska as friends. I will look for a place to stay as soon as possible.

I know you’re not going to respond to this and that’s fine. I am not going to change my mind. I cannot handle your excuses for the way you treat me anymore. Some things are inexcusable and in my mind this is one. I can’t be with someone who treats me like this. It’s humiliating and is driving me crazy.”

I didn’t actually break up with him. I wrote this on my phone while I was in “our” bed. I never sent it. 9 days later, on July 25th, I found the sex file of him and his fiancee, filmed in “our” bed. If I had left on July 16th I would have never found it. I just realized that when I was writing this post. Always trust your gut. ALWAYS. You will never be punished for trusting your gut.

Wonder Woman

I’ve been writing about MF lately. That’s because I’ve decided this is the week of purging memories. Feelings. Cleaning out the closet, if you will. Bare with me. There is so much happiness in my life. I am feeling grateful for where I am, but I want to remember where I came from. Everything that happened last year is the reason why I am here today. Writing before you. Loving before you. I feel like I have super powers. The power to heal myself. The power to overcome. The power to understand. The power to forgive. The power to be happy. The power to know I’m human and I am (ultimately) powerless.

Yours a Wondering Woman,


*This is the second post in a series of three memories from my relationship with MF I seek to purge.

PURGE 1: Fucked in the ass.

A memory came back to me the other day and it was something I never thought I would tell anyone (let alone blog about). But the other day I had the deep urge to write about it.

The day before I broke up with MF back in September 2010 was memorable for more than the obvious reasons.

I was on my period, but in his usual fashion he woke me up in the middle of the night to fool around.

But this time was different. I was curious what was going to happen since I was unsexable.

He stuck in a place he had never before. No lube. No nothing. Just him and me half-asleep whimpering, “Ow.” I didn’t physically stop him. I wanted to see what he’d do after hearing my groan.

He went further. I yelled louder. “Ow, that hurts.”

He stopped and said, “Ok.”

Continue reading

Guest Blogger – 1foot: The Freewheelin’

(This post is part of an awesome series of awesome 25swf guest bloggers- read about them here!)

It’s bad enough going through one breakup, but to go through two? At once? Yeesh. No, I wasn’t dating two people at the same time, but when my most recent boyfriend broke up with me, I also had to break up with Bob Dylan. And who wants to do that?


Bob Dylan pictureIn high school, I met Bob. We clicked, and I thought it couldn’t hurt to learn more about him. He was older than me, but I’ve always gotten along better with older people. We were both poets. We both liked complicated sentences and topsy-turvy lyrical creations. The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan became my go-to album. Then I discovered Blonde on Blonde. And Highway 61 Revisited. And Nashville Skyline. And Bringing It All Back Home (and oh, I brought it). And on. And on. I. Was. In. Love. A guy who had a crush on me during high school burned me a bunch of mixed Bob CDs. I blew it off then because I was flighty and 17, and it ain’t me, but I still have those CDs and I still treasure them and the sentiment. But me and Bob, we were just a duo that couldn’t be beat. I found myself in his lyrics, and I was transported time and again from a dingy, smoky basement bar to a misty forest, to a dusty Depression Era farm, and back again. I had long, dizzying discussions with friends who just couldn’t understand why he was so famous, why people couldn’t stop talking about him, and writing about him, when his singing voice was… rough, to say the least. And his lyrics, for them, were impenetrable. They just didn’t see in him what I saw in him. But Bob and I just got each other. His words untangled my dreams. And his oeuvre – well. There are plenty of books written on that subject. I can say a lot about him, but the main point is, Robert Allen Zimmerman and I were in it for the long haul. When I was bouncing around musically in college, Bob was my one constant. I saw him perform once, at Drillers Stadium in Tulsa, and I sneakily worked my way up to the front row on the field. From there, I could see in glorious detail the sweaty, wild hair, the slightly puffy face, and his cheeks as they bellowed in and out. He was lackluster that night, and I really couldn’t understand what he was saying at any given moment, but it didn’t matter. That is a night that lives in my memory as happy. When I went to Russia and lived there for a year, Bob came with me. He stayed up with me on Sunday nights when I couldn’t sleep, his words swirling around my brain, letting me know it was okay to be awake now, we were part of the night, together. I got his music for Christmas and birthdays. People came to me to get CDs burned of his albums. I wondered, at first, if I would ever get sick of him. But as time passed, I stopped worrying about ever losing him, and just began to enjoy the moment. I never, ever thought that anyone or anything could come between me and Bob.

And then I met ___. In September of 2008. Immediately, we clicked, and of course, he loved Bob too. How could he not? It was meant, it was destined. We took a road trip together in January of 2009, and he had just bought the Bootleg Series V. 5: Bob Dylan Live 1975, The Rolling Thunder Revue. We probably listened to that entire album no fewer than 15 times that trip. It was serious. There was this part in the album when he would lip sync one of Bob’s songs for me, and I loved it. It made me so giddy. And then came my birthday, and he bought me some Bob stuff. And then my next birthday, and more Bob stuff. And basically, we three were happy together. Until we weren’t anymore.

When ___ broke up with me last August, I thought I would turn to Bob for comfort. Like usual. I tried to listen to him, to get him to speak to me again, but he just looked at me sadly, and spoke only dust. My favorite songs had become mournful dirges. And this had become a song linked directly to me.

Beyond here lies nothin’

The lyrics that used to wrap up my troubled mind turned to dry leaves and crumbled under my feet. I reached out, but Bob had turned away.

Go lightly from the ledge babe. Go lightly from the ground. I’m not the one you want babe. I’ll only let you down.

I always thought he was warning me against falling too hard, too fast. I didn’t realize that he was foreseeing our own breakup, envisioning the time when I would turn to him, when I would need him most, and he wouldn’t be there. He wouldn’t be enough.

You say you’re lookin’ for someone, who’ll promise never to part. Someone to close his eyes for you. Someone to close his heart. A lover for your life and nothing more… but it ain’t me, babe. No, no, no it ain’t me, babe. It ain’t me you’re lookin’ for, babe.

I know Bobby D’s still there. I know what I really need is to “rememorize”, as 25swf puts it, some of his songs. But he’s been gone from my life for almost 8 months now, and I can feel the void. I can’t wait to reclaim him for my own, to move past the mark that ___ put on him. To really follow him down, and to be okay with what I find there. I know that when I find Bob again, he won’t be completely without ___’s residue. We were all too close to ever really be separated. But I want to have faith that when Bob and I rekindle our flame, he will have grown with me, and his lyrics will resonate in new, more meaningful ways.

Can I come home with you, baby can I come home with you ?
Yes I’ll do anything in this godalmighty world
If you just let me come home with you.



When shit hit the fan, bed, and couch

Sorry for the graphic title, but there’s a lot of shit-happening in this post and actually (after writing this) I realized a lot of beds and couches were involved, too. So, you will soon see how it very descriptively plays out.

(**warning** this post is long and somewhat rambly. I tried and edit where I felt like I was mouth vomiting, but it still feels janky to me. So I apologize in advance for any post-related injuries. It took me about 2 days to write because of how involved and emotional it is. Enter at your own risk.)

During one of the most hellish points of my life my three very close friends left the state. Best Friend One, we can call her L, got a grown-up job in Arkansas. BF Two, A, was off to Israel to be with her fiance. And BF Three, K, was on her way to Nicaragua to do non-profit work. I was so happy for all of them. Supportive, positive, excited! Within a matter of days and weeks of ALL of them leaving, the shit hit a big ‘ole ass fan in my life. And I was so in shock about what was happening in my own life to really be sad about the three closest people in my life growing up.

Here are the series of events so you can understand the chaos that my life was in less than a year ago.
(If you so desire to catch up on the history of MF you can read: A Year of Fears, Excuse my language but he’s a mindfuck, or Curiosity killed the…)

1– I met MF on November 6, 2009. I fell madly, deeply in love in less than two weeks. He invited me to Missouri and Eureka Springs with his family for Thanksgiving–they all wanted to meet me. While walking around the hillside he pulled my hand, “I need to tell you something,” and ran to a little spot away from the crowds, he pulled me into him, kissed me sweetly and told me he loved me. I swear to god I died. Writing this now is even making me cry. I fell. SO HARD. His family was amazing. His grandma and I would talk forever about traveling and little trinkets we found in the gift shops. After this trip, his family included me in their Christmas celebration, buying me tons of presents and overwhelming me with love. Over the next couple of weeks he would make these playlists, sending me songs that he said reminded him of me and us. Later I would find out that most of these songs were experiences he had with ex-fiance. As in, he told me to stop listening to a song that I fell in love with (because he sent it to me), because that was the song they were going to walk to down the aisle. A piece of me died inside. That was my first trip to New York (December 31).

2– We talked about marriage and kids, and moving in together over the next few months. Moving to Seattle. Starting companies. Working on movies. Moving to England. Moving to New York. Ginger babies. The whole shabang. We were (seemingly) completely on the same page in life.

3– In April 2010 my lease went up and I sold most of my possessions to move in with Mr. MF. I wanted to get new things eventually anyways, but the move prompted urgency. I had huge reservations, but I thought if I did this than maybe MF would realize that I wasn’t fucking around. I wanted this relationship to work. I knew he was still hung up on his ex. But I wanted him to know that I was working to gain his trust. BIG MISTAKE.

4– I moved in

5– Summary is: I was treated like shit and told I was always unhappy when I brought things up that bothered me. There are lots of fights sprinkled in here where I broke up with him and then he would convince me that we could work on it. He was the BEST at cleaning things up, temporarily. When I brought up an idea about creating weekly lists of things we could do for each other that would make us happy he made a joke out of it and laughed. But the lists…were a joke. I asked him to kiss me goodnight, not make misogynist jokes, and bake me brownies if I had a really bad day. His list was clean up boxes, get the cat (my cat*) out of the bathroom, and not always offer my opinion/advice on things when he talked about stuff bothering him. I always did all things on the list. If he did one, I was told to consider myself lucky. He also tried to get me to give away my cat. But I did take her to my mom’s for a while, which felt like I was giving her up. I really felt like I had no choice.

Soon after moving in we made a trip to Ikea to get some furniture (all of which he kept, even though I paid for half). On the way back from Ikea we got into an awful fight. I was driving and he was screaming at me so loudly that I had to pull off the road. I was crying and so speechless I had to get out of the car and breath. This wasn’t the same incident, but once I was pissing him off (his words) and he said to me, “Sometimes you make me want to just knock your glasses off your face.” I was appalled and didn’t even know how to reply. I don’t even remember what I said. Let’s just say, when he got mad, he scared me. So, that’s just SOME of the bull shit that happened. But all of it was huge to me. Red flags…on fire.

6– I found the sex file of him and his ex-fiancee on his desktop (July 25). I was broken. He asked me why I had watched it and was mad that I didn’t call him right away when I saw what it was. He said he was thinking about how he still had it and wanted to delete it. So that’s why he pulled it onto his desktop from the hard drive, to delete it. He was clueless as why it was still there. He tried to make it better by telling me he knew how I felt. He said he found pictures of his ex and her ex-boyfriend and was broken by it. He said what made him feel better was asking questions. So I asked…”Did you fuck her the way you fuck me?” I was so vulgar. I was so hurt. I was crying and screaming at the same time. I didn’t want him to touch me. I kept seeing the image of him turning on the camera, night vision was on, walking over to the bed. She was in some lingerie. He pulled her to the side and pulled her thong off. My eyes kept watching. My heart stopped beating. He took the camera down. Coming close to her and zooming in on everything. This looked familiar.

One night when we were making love he pulled out his phone. I asked what he was doing and he said, “Trust me.” I trusted him. He recorded us…me…I asked him, you haven’t done this before have you? No. He said. I loved that video. It turned me on. It made me feel so happy inside. It wasn’t dirty or gross. It was really hot to me that he wanted that. But watching this. Watching his video, of him and his ex, changed everything. I was disgusted with myself. I felt dirty and used. I was a fool. When I brought that up, how he had lied to me, he said he didn’t really lie…he had never done that with his phone. I made him delete the video of us. Who knows if it’s anywhere else.

I slept on the floor. Looking at that bed made me want to die. It was the same bed, the same apartment, the same video camera I had used on our trips together. I slept on the couch every night after that. I dreaded walking in there. Walking past the bed to go to the bathroom I would look away, down, just not there. I didn’t know what I wanted to do, but I told MF if he helped me I thought we could work through it and I would eventually heal. I really believed that. When I met her, the ex, for coffee I debated whether I would tell her any of this. I didn’t. There really was no reason. He said he deleted it, so that should never happen again. And I felt awful that I had seen something so private, so not meant for other eyes. My eyes. But when I told her that relationship was traumatizing, I don’t know if she will really ever know what I meant.

7– 6 days after the sex file-find I went to Alaska with him (August 2). I wanted to cancel the entire trip but then I decided that I should be an “adult” and try to work through everything.

8– 4 weeks after Alaska I still didn’t want to sleep in The Bed so I slept on the couch every night. One night, he yelled at me that I would have to get over it and we weren’t getting a new bed.

9– I sold my car on September 2. MF told me to take a train to get home (I worked 30 minutes away from the apt.). He said he was joking and said he didn’t know what time he could come pick me up because he had some things to do. You know the saying about the camel and the straw. This was the straw, funny enough. A stupid ride. Not a sex video, or a threat to hit me. I broke up with MF on September 2.

10– That night I slept on the couch at my friend’s place.

11– I had no car, no cat (I would get her back later!), no clean clothes, no home.

12– I bought a car on September 3. This was the 2nd worse experience of my life. They lied to me and gave me a replacement car until mine arrived. That night I moved all of my stuff out of MF’s apt. It took 5 hours and 3 trips. He wasn’t around because he was performing his music at a club.

13– I stayed at my friend’s place for 2 weeks, looking for a place to live that wasn’t a shit hole, took cats, and had *wood floors. (Wood floors are the best, and I wanted them).

14– September 8 my friend messaged me and said she was looking for someone to take over her lease and if I knew anyone to let her know. I told her I wanted it. It was perfect. Ironing board built into the wall, phone nook, vanity built in…I was in love. On top of this she had a mattress that she had just gotten (never been used), but didn’t need it. “Do you need a mattress?” she laughed. But I did. I had sold mine when I moved in with MF. I didn’t even have a damn bed.

15– On September 18, 2010 I moved into my new apartment. It was my safe haven. ALL MINE.


Sounds pretty fucking awful, huh? Well, it was. I mean, no one died…but gimme a break. What the hell.

Reading this “series of events” really simplifies all of my feelings about that relationship and slams together events that really have more to them. This is my side of the story. His would probably be very, very different. Not only because of obvious reasons, but I’d venture to say because he also has a delusional sense of himself. Also, I’m still pissed about everything. But I’m working on that, forgiveness is vital.

My three friends that I mentioned at the beginning of this post (L, A, and F) probably don’t even know these details. I was telling them some of this stuff when we would catch up, but really…I don’t even think they really know. My friend L, never liked him and told me to get out multiple times. My other friend, A, was supportive of what I wanted to do and always would listen to my rants with loving ears. And K, she had reservations about MF but she was there from the beginning. The first time I was chatting with MF she saw me falling. I was giddy, I was absorbed, I was in love. I was ready to spend the rest of my life with this person. In the beginning, my heart was telling me to go. A few months into the relationship my heart was telling me to run. Away. Fast. That if I stayed in this relationship, I would slowly lose myself. I would be miserable. I was miserable.

I had to learn how to ask for help from friend’s that I was close to, but not as close to. It taught me a very important lesson about myself, asking for help is not a sign of weakness.

And now, that things are “normal” and the world isn’t moving at 500mph I’m thinking a lot about them.

I think it’s really strange how we all were at very big crossroads in our lives all at the very same time. We all were in a whirlwind.

I miss them. I did when they left, too. But now I’m missing them because I know our lives are forever different now. Being 25 is the time in our lives where people start moving away, building their own lives, and…(I guess that’s what it’s called) grow up.

Despite all the shit hitting the fan last year, I am so excited to see where we are going and what paths we create for ourselves. I love all of my friends and I feel so lucky to be surrounded with such beautiful, talented, and genuine people. You are rare, friends. Everyone should make sure they tell their friends I love you. It’s cliche, but you don’t know how long they will be around, even if they are just moving a state or country over.

Yours openly and gratefully,