My ghost story.

You were beautiful. It felt like a secret I couldn’t bear to keep, so I told you. And you smiled, just a halfway smile, like you didn’t quite believe me. But I meant it, with everything I had. And when I told you this deep secret there was more behind it than just words. The statement was fueled by admiration and lust. As you knelt above me, as you kissed me gently, I had the overpowering urge to touch every inch of your body. Your milky soft skin. The little parts of your chest that were growing stubble, your strong legs that were long and lean, that carried you into my life. I can still taste the saltiness of your skin and I can still smell you. Sometimes at the grocery store a scent will hit my nostrils, and I’ll follow it or look for it like a dog searching for something. And I scan each face hoping to see yours but instead i’m met by strangers staring back at me.

And you’re so close yet so far. And I now I have simple memories, so complex in their simplicity I struggle not to let them haunt me. And sometimes when I lie in bed at night I think of you and I. Together. Laying in your bed in your quiet room and I can still hear your heartbeat, quick and nervous. I made you nervous. Do I still?

Like a ghost you came into my life and then you left. And for years I’ll keep telling myself our little ghost story, perhaps around a campfire late at night when I’m all alone and want to feel something other than loneliness.

I wonder if I’m ugly.

I don’t know what I want. The story of my life. At this point do I want to date? And if I do, what for? What’s the end game? Is there one? So many questions. Be still my overactive mind. Maybe I want something casual. A friends with benefits. But I don’t know if I can do that anymore. The way it felt with Greg* was so different than with a casual fling. Having that emotional chemistry as well as the sexual chemistry is a different kind of sex. Connecting with someone on that level is something completely out of this world. And I miss that. I don’t miss him, but I do miss the way I felt with him. Wanted. Needed. Desired. I’d love to find that again, and I am sure I will someday…but I guess I must wait, be patient.

I wonder if I’m ever on his mind. I know he thinks I’m crazy, I can’t blame him, but I hope one day he thinks of me fondly and realizes who I was. What he knew of me.

I wonder sometimes if I am ugly. And I know I’m not, but sometimes I wonder. I see men that I find extremely attractive but talk myself out of talking to them or smiling at them because I think maybe I am not in their “league” as people say. I am short and small. But thick and curvy. I lift heavy weights and run intervals on the treadmill. And I’ve lost 35 pounds since the beginning of the year and my clothes don’t fit anymore so I had to buy new ones and now those aren’t fitting quite right either. I am still stuck in the mentally of the fat girl that let herself go, when I am now the fit girl that should be confident in her beauty and hard work. But it’s a work in progress. I wish men had a sign on their forehead whether they’ll break my heart. It’s a risk worth taking I supposed, but I don’t how if I can make it through another one.

To Him.

I was once told by a therapist when I was younger that it was therapeutic to write a letter to someone who has hurt you, even though you’ll never give it to them. I was at said therapist because I’d just gone through a terrible break-up with someone that was extremely toxic and emotionally abusive. I wrote the letter and it felt amazing. It offered me a sense of closure, even though I knew he’d never read it. So I thought I’d do this now. And what better place than on here. You may find it boring, and I don’t expect you to read the entire thing, but perhaps it might help you understand feelings of your own. Or make you feel validated in feeling the way you have or do about someone in your life.

To him:

The day we met was a strange day for me. I was so used to putting my headphones on in the gym, turning my music up and speaking to no one. So when you came up to me and asked me if you could “work in” on the leg press I was taken aback. I thought “Why is this guy asking to work in with me? He can lift twice the weight as me.” My female brain put 2 and 2 together and realized you were most likely finding a reason to introduce yourself to me, even though you’d never admit it. So we worked in together. I felt a bit awkward and strange as I tend to in daily life. I did notice how strong and muscular your legs were. I’ll be honest, I wasn’t extremely attracted to you. The way you walked through the gym like a peacock, shaking everyone’s hand, saying hello. Were you just friendly? Or insecure? I was amused, and also intrigued. I have a type…and you fit the bill. From the day we met and you proceeded to follow me around the gym to all the leg equipment, I found myself looking for you. I’d occasionally see you and we’d chat, but it was never anything more than that because I’d cut it short. There is such a thing as too much of a good thing. It was about 3 weeks into us meeting that we stood by the free weights and the conversation flowed. For 45 minutes we chatted and connected and you finally asked for my number. You were no longer the unattractive guy at the gym with the rocking body, I was starting to notice small details about you that I was growing to like and your mind was fascinating to me. I appreciated your straight white teeth and greenish/blue eyes. The way you carried yourself I found particularly attractive. You asked when it would be a good time to call me, which I thought was strange as in this day and age people typically just text. I said anytime after 5 on the weekdays and weekends I was open. It was about 2 days later on a Thursday night I noticed a missed call on my phone. I googled the number and saw your name and called it back. This would be the first of many times we’d talk on the phone for over an hour and I’d hang up feeling like a high school girl with butterflies again. I never thought I’d feel that way again, but there it was. The next night we went out on a date. You took me to a beautiful restaurant I’d always wanted to try. We had dinner and shared conversation. It was amazing to have an intellectual conversation with someone. It was something I’d been missing for a very long time. I especially loved it when you’d smile at me after I said something. After that we went for a walk in the park and you held my hand. We talked, that’s what we did. The conversation never went stale between you and I. We decided we’d go back to your house right up the street so you could give me a tour. It was in an amazing neighborhood I loved. This was where I should have stopped. You see, it was here that I got my tour and then the beginning of the end began. As soon as you asked if you could kiss me there was no going back. “I feel a lot of chemistry, can I please kiss you?” Sure, I’d say. I would like that. And I did. It was like the first kiss I ever had. Surprising and pleasant and everything I’d hoped it would be. And we kissed more and more and you asked me, “Please stay with me tonight, Angel.” And I said I really like you and hope moving too fast won’t change anything. And you assured me it most certainly would not. So like a naive young girl would do, I stayed with you. And we made love. And it was passionate and amazing. And we did it again, and again that night. And I couldn’t sleep afterwards because you were snoring so very gently and it was so very quiet in your house. So I moved into the living room and slept on the couch.

And in the morning I woke up and asked if it would keep you awake if I watched your television. And you grabbed me and held me and asked me to just lay in your bed with you. And I did. And we cuddled and talked and you kissed my forehead and played with my hair and I never wanted it to end. I never wanted to stop feeling the warmth of your body next to mine and under my hands. And I never wanted the smell of you to escape from my nostrils. And for the first time in a long time I felt so extremely lucky that maybe this could be it, maybe it was my turn to get something good in my life. Maybe my days of being hurt and used were over. And you told me you could see us going far, that you wouldn’t jump ship because you’re older now and no longer a stupid young man. And I felt so at ease, because I believed you. And you had to work for a few hours so you took me home and I felt sad all day. Because I knew you wouldn’t call me. And you didn’t, not until later that night. I didn’t hear from you all day. And when you finally called my heart lit up because that meant it wasn’t all a giant mistake. And I went over to your house again and we cuddled and we had more sex and it was passionate and amazing and I was falling even more not only for you, but the words you said and the hope you gave me. I didn’t realize the reality. That you hadn’t, in fact, changed very much from when you were younger.

I didn’t hear from you after that for an entire day. No texts or anything. So I broke and I texted you. And you said you weren’t a big texter. And you said you were very busy with work. And I knew that this was a sign. I knew that when someone wants you they make time for you. And you weren’t making time for me. And I didn’t see you for a few days, and we spoke sporadically on the phone, long conversations that connected me to you all over again. And I’d go over but we wouldn’t have sex because we both didn’t want kids and you didn’t like condoms and we were going to start taking it slow and I’d get an IUD and you’d get a vasectomy and then we’d be good. So we both made our appointments. And still, I was falling, past all the red flags. But each time you kissed me it was like the red flags disappeared.

And I communicated and voiced my opinions. I needed more. I needed a periodic text, I needed to know you were in this as much as me. And you did try a little harder. I’d get a text in the morning and then wouldn’t hear from you until that night, late, and we’d talk on the phone, usually, not always. And I started to not feel like a priority. I didn’t want to be crazy about you if you weren’t crazy about me, too. And I felt the distance starting. And the more I vocalized what I needed from you, which wasn’t a lot, you started with the friend talk. Let’s be friends, let’s see what the future holds and just take this slow. Then you’d call me babe, and baby and you’d kiss me. I wonder, do you kiss all your friends like that? And my first instinct was to run but I was in so deep. I’d fallen in love with the idea of you. You said you’d make time for me in your life but you’d rather go hangout with your parents on Friday and Saturday night than with me. And I started to realize what was going on. And for some reason, even though I love myself, I started to feel like it was me. That I was being rejected because I wasn’t enough.

But that was absolutely ridiculous, and now that I can see everything from an outsiders perspective, I see it how it was. No longer am I the bawling mess in my bed listening to sad music feeling sorry for myself. I am outside of it all now. Above it all and seeing it from a different perspective. YOU are a user. YOU are a master manipulator. You play the game well sir, I will give you that. You took a STRONG woman and you brought her to her knees. You took a KIND woman with so much to offer and you USED her. And YOU ain’t shit. As they say. You are a sad, lonely, insecure person. And no longer will I let any man make me feel like I’m not enough. And I may have to see you at the gym every now and then, but perhaps you’ll fuck off like you should and go to the one down the street.

I’m done. With you. With the memories. As they slowly fade, I’ll let them. Good riddance. It’s tough to know there are men out there in the world like you. But when I think of you, and picture your face I feel sorry for you. Living the life you do. Thinking you have a lot of friends when you have a few acquaintances. You let a wonderful woman go. One so full of kindness and love. I feel sorry for you that you lost me, that you treated me the way you did. I don’t wish the best for you. I just don’t care. It’s simple.


Thanks for the inspiration.

I feel inspired when the fire in my heart is burning it’s brightest. When emotions and feelings of love or hate or sadness or despair are coursing through my veins. Sometimes I feel numb to the world, as if walking through it as a zombie instead of a woman. At times I feel completely uninspired, but lately, thanks to you, I’ve felt extremely inspired. The roller coaster of emotions I’ve felt over the last month have allowed me to perfect the art of spilling these emotions out onto the page in front of me.

One of the most difficult things in life is to express feelings as words.

My inspiration has lead me to the realization that I must move on. I refuse to sit on the back burner. If you had fallen for me the way I did for you then you’d have never let me go. And you should have let me go completely, not asked me to wait patiently on the back burner while we built a “friendship” and let time do the rest. Perhaps I’m being unreasonable. But taking things slow isn’t in my DNA. I am a reckless romantic with a slight tinge of masochism. Because life is just too short not to grasp every piece of happiness and potential life throws my way. So you’re being kept at a distance. And that little spot in my heart for you I so thoughtfully reserved will most likely shrink in time. You’ll become a part of my past I look back on with apathy, hopefully…eventually.

Thanks for making me feel something again. I was starting to worry I was broken in that regard.