R1, R2, and C

soul mates. what a heavy phrase. i know that i have met three of my soul mates. i do not know how many soul mates there are for my soul. i do know that i miss all three of my known soul mates fiercely.

the first soul mate i met was a girl in high school. we had anatomy class together. she was a vegetarian. except for bacon. since high school we have lost contact and reconnected several times. i always miss her, yet i have the hardest time tracking her down. instead she finds me. it’s been a while since we’ve talked. she has a son just five days older than my J. whenever she resurfaces, we’ll catch up on the time we’ve lost and maybe this time we won’t lose touch. we fall in love with souls, not genitals. i love this woman and i could see us living together and raising our sons together, and when the boys grow up and go to college, we’ll get kittens and we’ll grow into old cat ladies.

the second soul mate i met was R. if you’re an avid reader of this little blog, you know a bit about him. i was able to look at is eyes last week, they are exactly as i remembered them. we talked for something like an hour, we had things to talk about, but neither of us could stay on topic so the conversation drifted all over, it was beautiful. it is those conversations, however rare they are, that remind me that R is a mate to my soul. he is intertwined in me. if ever i tried to remove him from my being it would cause me sure and sudden death i am certain.

the third soul mate i met was C. what can i say about C? he caught me so off guard, i didn’t have time to post the “F*** Off” sign back up on my forehead. he was under my skin the first time we talked, even though it was months before we talked again and i’m sure he didn’t even remember the first time, it was kind of inconsequential. the second time we talked, the first by his count, apparently he had to work up the courage to talk to me. he had noticed me for days, weeks perhaps, and though i looked like someone he’d like to talk to. he was shyer than i realized and quiet in general, although he never ran out of things to say when i was around.


I think Christmas might always
remind me of you.
Already as I read
The Night Before Christmas to T
(it’s his favorite right now),
I think of you and your dad,
who I never got to properly meet.

Sometimes I sit dangerously,
thinking that somehow you’d see
and you’d have to say something to me
because it would bother you that much,
that you’d forget that we’re pretending
not to know each other.
I’d get under your skin again.

Rupert, because we both like gingers.

I thought we would
have a thousand more
conversations in your garage
or under blankets
in your living room,
not watching Harry Potter.

Hundreds of trips
in your friends’ cars.
And we’d go to the movies
but view separate titles.
I’d say I don’t like my hair sometimes,
you’d say it’s beautiful always.

So many words
we’ll never say now.
I think we were both
set on destroying
any chance of us
before we even started us.

Borrowing a line from H:
One store towns
make me feel
a certain kind of way.
Will I be able to breath
next time I see you in aisle 9B?

C, if ever you read this,
know there was is gravity
between us.
Heart gravity and soul gravity.
The world will keep us apart,
unless our hearts conquer the world.

Should Have Known

I should have known
what “homegirl” meant.

I should have known
by the way he didn’t tell her.

I should have known
because his roommate was worried.

I should have known
when he hid me in the backyard.

I should have known
when he said she’d be back.

I should have known
by the way he stopped texting.

I should have known
because he needed “time to himself”.

I should have known
when he only nodded.

I should have known
by the look on his roommate’s face.

I should have known
that this one would hurt my heart.

I should have known
I should have known.

a few words about fathers

I have a father. As messed up as this will probably read, he’s just my father. I don’t feel much fondness towards the man. He’s a decent human being sometimes. He has mostly provided for his family. But I don’t feel close to him. I used to be “Daddy’s Little Girl”, but then I learned a lot of things about him when I was a teenager, things that I do not like. He’s been a better father than some men I’m sure. He did/does the best he personally can.

My children have a father, R. He is an amazing father. Some people think he’s irresponsible and makes bad choices, but I have never seen anyone love his children more than R loves J and T. J was born 2 or 3 weeks before Father’s day. R has a tattoo on his left arm that he got before I even got pregnant with J, that’s a promise that he will always be the best father he can be. It is Winnie the Pooh and friends in like a cuff around his forearm. When I talk about R people look at me funny because I speak off him with affection and gratitude. We are not your typical exes who hate each other and we most definitely do not use the kids as pawns or weapons. When R drop the boys off at my house, I meet him in the driveway, I unbuckle T and he unbuckles J, he walks us up to my mom’s garden, that’s where the kids wave bye to him as he drives away. When R picks the boys up from my house, he walks toward the house to meet us, often J wants to show him something, R lingers for a few minutes to look at the mud in the pool or a new plastic shovel or whatever imaginary food J had been cooking that day, I buckle J in and R buckles T, I say “drive safe”, he says “see you on Tuesday”, I say “text me when you get home if you remember”. Sometimes he remembers, sometimes he doesn’t.

One of my brothers is expecting his first child later this year, a son. He is not with the mother still though. He is one of those people who doubts his ability to be a responsible parent, this makes me sad. He has a huge capacity to love and that is the first step towards being a great parent, you just have to remember to always act out of love for your child. My sister-in-law (my other brother’s wife) and I are throwing a viking themed “daddy-to-be” baby shower. The child has an unfortunate name, but who am I to talk?

C’s dad has a job that takes him away from home during the Christmas season. Because of this C hasn’t spent his own birthday with his dad since he was preschool aged, C’s birthday is at the tail end of November.

I think C longs to be a father, or at least a step-father. He is attracted to older women, especially ones that already have kids. I think this has something to do with the fact that he lost his mom when he was a kid.

Saturdays are Good for Somethings

I’m in love with C. That sucks. I don’t know if he’s ever gonna come around again, but if he does I’ve worked it out in my head how to stay just friends. If he never comes around, I’ll be okay, I’ll miss him, but I’ll be okay. I’ve learned how to let go and recover, I might cry a little, I’ll write poems about him, maybe I’ll always love him with a little piece of my heart, but I’ll always love him, I know this. I hope he’s doing okay. I deleted him from my phone because I didn’t want to risk saying stupid things to him. He needs time to heal and maybe he doesn’t know how to be friends with a girl he’s into, and maybe he’s into me too, maybe. I don’t know if I’m right, but I think C picks a certain kind of girl, and he thought I was that sort of girl, but I am not. This thought brought forth a line:

Maybe damsels in distress who can’t won’t save themselves shouldn’t be rescued at all.

I had a great day today. I hung out with H. Coffee, bookstore, sushi and saki. It was really great. H is weird, excuse me, creative. We were going to get Pink Ladies at Starbucks, they were all out, H was devastated. We got white mochas instead, his hot mine iced. He’s reading Almost Home by Jessica Blank, I’m reading Me Before You. I gave H Blue Like Jazz. H bought 5 books, I bought 3. H claims he’s not very bookish, yet he ended up with like 10 books in the backseat of his car. I got Breakfast at Tiffany’s by Truman Capote (who apparently also wrote a book called In Cold Blood, which the bookstore lady described as a rather graphic crime story), Animal Farm by George Orwell, and The Taming of the Shrew (the No Fear Shakespeare edition). I don’t remember all of the books H got, but it seemed like a pretty good selection. I almost walked out with Message in a Bottle (Nicholas Sparks), but put it down in favor of picking something with more depth and street cred, hence my three final choices. H went pee in the bookstore, in the restroom of course. He texted me from in there – “It’s good to use the restroom here”. Apparently the bookstore has an amazing facility – the walls are wallpapered with book pages, it is beautiful. H treated me to sushi. I actually managed to kind of sort of use chopsticks okay. And I tried saki for the first time, not a fan.

After, I took the bus to my brother’s house and hung out with my family. That was really great too. I love my family. They are so weird, I mean, creative. I laughed so hard. I spent some time looking after my three little nieces, they are all so precious. Everyone said they were glad I came. My family hasn’t always liked me, they used to think I was stuck-up. I don’t think they think that anymore. We talked about taking over this town as a family. We’d have a coffee/burger joint, a bed and breakfast, a tow service, and I think an auto restoration service was thrown in there too.

And I decided I’m going to splurge on bookshelves for myself next month. Sometimes I refuse to spend money on myself, but this time I logicked this out and it makes sense to buy the bookshelves. I have tons of books, I have no intention of getting rid of any books (except occasionally giving one away to a friend, and then I’ll probably buy myself another copy of the book), I buy new books often (this week I got 10 total, I think, and I should be getting one more in the mail on Monday), books enrich my life, books widen my vocabulary, books help me process difficult parts of life, books are important to me beyond description. So my books should have a lovely place to call home.

i’m sorry, C

i exist
outside the space time continuum
especially when i fall in love

a week ago
we hadn’t even spent
time in each others eyes
outside of public spaces

and now
we stand on shaky ground
because i’m impatient

i wouldn’t blame you
if you never speak again
to me

i don’t let
friendship develop

just like everything
else that we consume

i wrecked us
before you had a chance
to make up your mind

i wanted to hug you

yesterday i asked
“did i do something wrong?”
late last night you answered
“you did nothing wrong
i’m just going through it
i just need some time to myself”

you let me know you’re guarded
but you’re not totally closed
and then it hit me
you don’t want me
to be your rebound

i went to the market
to buy noodles for dinner
i ran into you
almost literally
you looked sadder than i’ve seen

you asked how i was
i told you i was great
and asked how you were
you said you were okay
“but you know”
i know

we talked
just for a minute
and as i walked away
i threw the ball in your court
“just let me know
when you’re okay
for me to be around”

i won’t close my heart
your soul is too great
your eyes too beautiful
to deny myself the chance
of you as a best friend

and so
here i stand

*In response to Open.

seven fifteen

first thing this AM
my phone starts talking
“message from C”
my heart jumped
how do guys do this?

crazy girl texts you
rambles on
you probably think she’s weird
and then you text her
“well if you ever need to talk
just hit me up”

maybe guys only do it to me
i don’t know
but he basically conveyed
this message
“even though you’re crazy,
we’re friends”

i’ll try not to text him again
but this is a small town
and if i run into him
what will he say?
like most he won’t hold
my crazy against me

even though H swears i’m jaded
i know i’m not
i’d risk almost everything for C
if only i had the courage
and only in a world
where R does not exist

*In response to Connected.