I am fervently wishing to get over you…
Soon
You are the monkey on my back
Clawing at my chest
Trying to get into my heart
No matter how I thrash about
I can’t get you off
You are the tell-tale track marks along my arms
You fade with time but never really gone
You are the craving, the panic and the fear
And there’s a tiny voice inside
Reminding me that you ain’t going Nowhere
And then there’s the cold sweat
Along my temple, drenching my hair
I know it’s all psychological
But I feel it Everywhere
Summer…thus far it has been interesting to say the least. I’m still dating but I can take it or leave it.
Who knew finding a partner much less a husband would be so much work? Well, I knew but I forgot how tiring and annoying it can be. What really bothers me is the sheer amount of men who don’t know how to spell and have very poor grammar. WTF is going on in the world? I know it can’t just be me…it can’t. I’m not looking for a scholar or a genius. I’m just looking for a man who knows when to use “then” and when to use “than”. A man who knows the difference between “your” and “you’re”. When I say it has been difficult and damn near impossible to find a man who does – I am NOT exaggerating. I am so dismayed. Bad grammar is one of those things that you just have to accept about someone or move on. It’s not like bad fashion sense which can be fixed…Bad grammar/spelling is really hard to change. If you’re almost 30 and still don’t know how to spell, there’s no help for you – I’m sorry! And I know that people are living life and don’t care about grammar or spelling because they know enough to get by BUT it drives me insane…
Social networking and technology have also shed a lot of light on those with less than stellar grammar. A man with poor grammar now has a variety of ways to show off how much he does not know via twitter, facebook, Tagged, LinkedIn etc. Bad grammar is also evident when texting, which is the best form of communicating (it seems) for new age dating. I may not have had so much exposure in the past because there weren’t really many opportunities for a man to express himself to me in writing except the occasional passionate love letter, birthday or anniversary card. But I live in a time where I will inevitably bear witness to how well a man expresses himself in the written form and I am disheartened. I am simply disheartened that there are so few men who know how to string a well-constructed sentence together. Sigh…what’s a girl to do?
I went on a date (trying to get my groove back or maybe I just misplaced it! LOL) and it was so funny how my date pointed out my text messaging style. He said I write text messages like we’re on BBM and I could not stop laughing because it’s true. This has been brought to my attention before but he seems to think my texting style is a direct result of me owning a Blackberry.
He continued to tease and asked why don’t I convey all the information in one text because I send lots of one liners. I thought that was an interesting observation.
I don’t even use BBM that often and I actually no longer have it on my phone. I told him it’s more about me trying to convey all the information to him because when I think it, I want him to know it. I don’t have time to wait and type it into one text. I’m super impatient! Next thing you know I’ve sent him an epic text. No one wants to read all of that! Personally, I LOVE to read but when someone sends me an epic text it drives me insane! Unless, of course it’s a sweet, doting text. That I can deal with! Anyway I’m off to send a bunch a one liners 😀
Oh my God!
The silence. This silence. This awkward silence between us. What does it mean? Perhaps, I should not have picked up. But the ringing…
The ringing is so insistent when it’s you. So I can’t ignore it. I know it’s you. I somehow always know it’s you. The numbers change but the ring is still the same.
What exactly is it that you want? I thought we figured out long ago that there was nothing, absolutely nothing I could help you with but here you are again on the other end. You made things this way but you are searching for your way in and you’re not welcome here anymore.
You want to see how I’m doing. The answers come to me automatically.
“I am fine. Thank you.”
“And you?” tacked on to be polite.
I’m good,” you say, your voice weary.
With what? Weary with the weight of calling yet again, not knowing, never knowing what to expect but expecting anyway.
Then silence. I play with the phone cord hoping that you’ll tell me why you keep doing this to me.
“Can we talk…” you eventually ask.
Can we talk? Of course we can. We are. It’s not that we can’t talk. It’s that we won’t talk. Your guilt and my hatred suffocate us every time. The silence speaks for itself. Every time I speak to you I go through a bevy of emotions. Sometimes, it’s annoyance but now, right now its anger. There are so many reasons why. Today though, it’s because you remind me of a man I once loved. You sound like him right now in your vulnerability and you say my name like he used to. But this is not for him. His turn at occupying my time, my mind, my thoughts – is over. It’s your turn for these few moments that we sit here – you at your job, me at mine, both of us wondering about this silence and who will save us from it.
Confessions of a Thinkaholic 