Archive for ‘First loves’

February 14, 2011

the funny thing about never…

the people you thought would never leave your side…
are gone…
the love you never could have imagined…
exists…
the times you never thought you’d get through…
were survived…
the things you thought you’d never be able to laugh at…
are finally funny…
the people you never thought would let you down…
have…
the mistakes you promised yourself you’d never make…
were made…
the tears you never thought you’d cause…
were cried…
and the tears you promised you’d never cry…
streamed down your cheeks…
the ties you swore you’d never cut…
were snipped…
the lies you promised you’d never tell…
were told…
the people you said you’d never forgive…
were forgiven…
and the things you never thought were possible…
have happened…
 
…that’s the funny thing about never…
it’s never certain…
August 7, 2009

love.

this is going to be a bumpy ride.

an “are we there yet” kind of experience.

my thoughts are here, there and everywhere.

LOVE.

man has found a way to put a label on everything.

has created words to describe the indescribable.

LOVE even has a definition in the dictionary as if it can really be defined.

LOVE…

  1. A deep, tender, ineffable feeling of affection and solicitude toward a person, such as that arising from kinship, recognition of attractive qualities, or a sense of underlying oneness.
  2. A feeling of intense desire and attraction toward a person with whom one is disposed to make a pair; the emotion of sex and romance.
    1. Sexual passion.
    2. Sexual intercourse.
    3. A love affair.
  3. An intense emotional attachment, as for a pet or treasured object.
  4. A person who is the object of deep or intense affection or attraction; beloved. Often used as a term of endearment.
  5. An expression of one’s affection: Send him my love.
    1. A strong predilection or enthusiasm: a love of language.
    2. The object of such an enthusiasm: The outdoors is her greatest love.
  6. Love Mythology. Eros or Cupid.
  7. often Love Christianity. Charity.
  8. Sports. A zero score in tennis.

REALLY?

man has even written a book.  called it the bible. and deemed it the right way to live.  the right way to love. the only way to truly know God.  and adherence to the rules within this man-made book is the only way to enter the pearly gates of heaven…as if there are iron workers in heaven.

each time i have loved. my definition of love has evolved.  each time i said I LOVE YOU. i meant it. i meant with all my heart knew of love, at that time.

i remember being five years old or so, and standing before my mother as she knelt down to fiddle with my scarf. she wrapped it in a way only a mother can. air tight. i knew that was love.  i remember asking her… “mommy, why do you let daddy hit you?” i knew that wasnt love.

funny though, i knew that wasnt love, but it was all i knew. and i would know it first hand.

before i knew i was gay.

before i knew what love really was.

before i had any business loving anybody.

when all i wanted was attention.

i loved him.

and he loved me too.

he told me so.

he said, “i love you so much.  I will break both your legs if you ever leave me.”

he said, “i love you so much.  I will kill you if you ever cheat on me.”

crazy, but it felt like love to me.  i thought wow… he REALLY loves me!

i was only twelve years old. and it was the only concept of love i had ever known.

he went to jail shortly after confessing his love to me.

when he came home from prison.  he found out something that i had done (another post).  he called me upstairs. he lived in the apartment above mine.  i ran up.  he greeted me by the door.  i dont recall him saying anything.  he slapped me hard across the face. it stung.  i was paralyzed. in complete disbelief. BAM….again, and again, and again.  i felt the warm stream of fear trickling down my legs.  he was yelling at me. but i cant tell you what he said.  i havent a clue.  when he dismissed me, i ran down the stairs. into my apartment. to my bed. and cried. he called me later that night to say he was sorry. i was happy to hear from him.

fast forward.

summer of 1993. i was fifteen. our one month old daughter was sleeping in the crib. it was about 4am.  we were watching a movie. i was eating   chef boyardee ravioli. he started questioning me about the same incident that happened back in 1991. a knot formed in the pit of my stomach.  and just as i had anticipated.  the ravioli went flying. my eyes became wide as i looked at the intensity in his.  he had this evil look about him when he became enraged.  he asked me questions, and ended each question with a powerful slap to my face. each one harder than the last. or maybe my skin just became more sensitive with each blow.  i backed myself onto the sofa and hugged my knees.  he punched my legs as i buried my head into my arms. he jerked my body out of the ball i had formed myself into.  and wrapped his hands tight around my neck.  crazy how your body reacts to intense fear.  its as if your brain goes into some kind of self preservation mode.  and it can no longer waste any brain cells on things like bladder control. i felt a gush of warmth escape me. it almost felt good. his grip was terrifying.  i felt my face. the horror that was all over it.  the look on his was worse.  blank. angry. emotionless. he took me into the room and held my face over the crib.  said some taunting things about me never seeing our daughter again.  pushed me into the corner of the room. and began punching me all over. twice in the face. my legs. my stomach.  when i keeled over in pain. he punched me on my back.  the sun had come up.  my mother heard the commotion and began knocking on our locked bedroom door. he told me to tell her to go away.  each time she knocked. he slapped me in the face and told me to tell her to go away. this happened several times until she noticed the pattern.  finally she stopped.  he told me to lay down. i did. he plopped himself down next to me. i cried and sniffled as quietly as i could. i told him i had to pee.  he gestured for me to go.  i held my head in my hands as i sat on the toilet.  i flushed and turned on the water. i stared at my reflection. bruised. puffy. red. scared. i left the water on and ran. i ran out of the apartment. and kept running. i was barefoot.  with nothing on but a night shirt. no panties.  i approached a man who was standing in his doorway talking to another man.  now in a panic with tears streaming down my face i begged him to use his phone. he pulled his friend inside and slammed the door. i just kept running.  i noticed someone in their kitchen, and knocked on their door.  i told them it was an emergency, and begged them to use their phone.  the man looked around for a minute and opened the door for me to come in.  he sat me down and his pregnant wife inquired silently about the almost naked hysterical girl in her kitchen.  he handed me the phone and she rubbed my back. it hurt but her touch felt comforting.  i called the police. the husband gave me a pair of shorts to put on. i wanted to stay with them.

i arrived back at the house to find him putting our infant daughter in his car.  he drove off.  i ran after the car with every ounce of strength  i had.  i could hear the sirens not far behind me.

he was arrested.

the day was long after that. painful. i had never in my life been hit before.  oddly enough, my father NEVER struck me.  he slapped me one time when i got a little too crazy playing rough with him.  he whooped me with his belt another time after i had run away for two days.  but it was funny to me. didnt hurt. i could tell he didnt want to.

i didnt press charges. he stood away for a while.  talked about moving to north carolina. but he was back home in less than two weeks.  he made me destroy the photos of my black eyes and bruised body.  i stood nine more years. and suffered many more torturous episodes. only difference was, i think he realized, the less evidence the better. so he stuck with mostly throwing me around, fear tactics and choking.

i remember one time he was angry with me about some shit.  i was in the bathroom using a curling iron.  he snatched the cord from the socket that was above my head.  and the metal part of the plug hit me in the face.  on the soft skin right under my eye.  i flinched and instinctively shut my eyes as it struck me.  when i opened them, there was this single red stream of blood pouring down my face.  as if i was crying blood.  he sucked his teeth and walked away. he felt stupid because he hadnt intended to go that far. but was too much of an asshole to comfort me.

i just stood there staring at myself.

with all i knew. and didnt know.

i knew this wasnt love.

August 5, 2009

unconditional. and flawless.

her love was exquisite.  she treated me like a queen. our meeting was somewhat of a blind date.  but not a date really.  her friend, who was my friends new love interest thought we would hit it off.  they did a drive by.  i should say i was still living with the father of my children.  we were not together at the time and trying to go our separate ways.  what us not being together meant was that he could do what he wanted to do and i had better not think about doing shit.  i remember when i first told him that i was into women.  i had only just discovered it myself.  he was very excited.  that was until he noticed what type of women i was into.  i still get a good laugh out of that one.  anyway they came by and i was completely smitten with her. her…not so much.  i understood.  i was still living with the asshole.  but we continued to speak.  and shortly there after, drive by number two.  she smelled so good.  like fresh laundry and some other scent that made me horny. she was leaning back on the hood of her car.  after some heavy flirting, she pulled me to her. one of her legs between mine.  i pressed into her.  thinking back on it now.  it was such a great first kiss.  not that it was incredibly romantic.  but her lips felt so good. her kiss quite literally made my body feel weak.  i closed my eyes and let her kiss me.  let myself feel her.

over the next few months, i fell so madly in love with her.  and her love was exquisite.  she was generous with her soul. with her love.  her smile touched me deeply.  she took good care of me.  she cooked for me.  she made love to me.  she showered me with compliments.  she left me love notes in packed lunches.  she made my birthdays memorable.  she humored me. she did the things i liked to do because she loved to see me happy.  she let me be free.  she encouraged my dreams.  she let me cry when i needed to.  she took me in her arms and offered me a rare kind of silent support not many know.  she massaged me when my body ached.  and when it didnt.  her arms felt like love.  it was beautiful.  we had wonderful times.  getting kicked out of @lovergirlnyc for fucking in the bathroom. sex in my car. in her car. on top of my car. by the chain link fence in front of my car. in hotel rooms. waiting for the hotel rooms.  her sex felt like…fuck damn shit. sex that makes you want to curse and say foul nasty whorish things. sex that made me look at her like she was in trouble. like what the fuck.

her soul was so pure. she never spoke lies.  her expression was always sincere.  her love was true and real. at times it was overwhelming. she would fall back when she saw i needed “me time.”  it was as if she was taught. the right way to love.  i was older than her by 3 yrs.  but i learned from her.  it was the first time i had ever known love.  her love felt like greatness. like being in the presence of a higher power.

she had flaws.  but in hindsight. they were nothing really.  nothing that wouldnt have changed with time.  she was immature.  she was not intellectual. though she wanted to learn because she knew i needed mental stimulation.

she was my shadow. i started to feel more like her mommy than her girl.  she let me be.  she let me breathe.  too much. my mind wandered.

we’d break up. but never really. until finally we did.

i was horrible to her. mean. a cunt. the cuntiest of cunts.  my eyes tear as i recall the sadness in hers.  the pleas.  the pain i caused. my heart still hurts.  it was so wrong. the way i disposed of her.

i think of her often. she is happy now. and her girlfriend is a lucky woman. im happy for her. i only wish i had ended things differently. she didnt derserve what i did. and i didnt deserve her. in hindsight. i was the immature one. the one with flaws. but she didnt see that. because her love was unconditional. and flawless.