21 January, 2013


Taking a break from authoring for a moment. Life happened, so please excuse me.

I was a hair's breadth away from being exactly where I wanted to be re: Potential Mrs. Saturday (PoMS from here on out), and things were going along quite well. Have you ever met anyone who you just clicked with? There's that instant connection that you know you're going to spend the rest of your lives strengthening together?

PoMS and I had that. We were always talking. ALWAYS. It was amazing. Granted, I met her in a very tumultuous period in her life, but I was patient, for how could I not? She was in pain and I held out a supportive hand, because even if I didn't fall fast and hard, I want to help everyone in pain. It's just how I'm wired.

Sunshine and happiness and kittens followed. To any third party, I'm sure it looked pretty disgusting. I mean, I absolutely adore all that mushy-gushy stuff, and there were a few instances of me saying "...really?" With the arched eyebrow and everything.

Not the conversation-ender I thought it would be, oddly enough.

Okay, so maybe it wasn't that bad, but I very much enjoyed it. We were two people feeding off of each other (in as positive of a way as possible), and it was nice. Whenever we had free time, we would be texting. Or talking. Sending pictures back and forth, just to see each others' faces. I said it was disgusting to a third party, so you can't say I didn't warn you.

Pretty much how it happened.

Yeah, we had it pretty bad for each other.

Now it's time for something that seems to be a non-sequitur but is actually related (just bare with me while I get back around to it). It takes 14 Gs of lateral acceleration before the heart literally explodes from the chest, tearing itself apart from the other organs. True story, bro.

I'm not entirely certain how I arrived at this thought process, but is there an emotional equivalent to this? How does one weigh unkindnesses? Are there different measurements for different types of insultory actions? How much stress can the emotional heart withstand before it claws its way from my chest?

Aww, he looks so happy. (Disclaimer: not his own heart)

I don't know the answers to those questions (and there are more, similar to them), but I do know that I have reached my emotional 14 Gs. Well, maybe 13.9. I have given one too many second chances, and do not want to risk that .1 emotional G force. It is time to pick myself up and try again, as much as I don't want to, because I do still care very deeply for PoMS.

Just not enough to get back in line for the emotional rollercoaster.


  1. This was an uncomfortable read. I felt like I was eavesdropping on a conversation I had no business hearing. Well, one side of it, anyway.

    1. I can understand that feeling. I felt uncomfortable writing it. I just don't have the support structure PoMS has, so I'm just pretty much shouting into the aether. Or, at least, I feel that way.

      I feel petty for feeling the way I do. This whole situation is just fucked up. There's a lot involved, and I feel like I'm going to explode because I don't really have anyone to talk to, you know?

    2. Well, since I'm here... I wouldn't quit so easily. Sure, roller coasters can be downright terrifying when you're hurtling towards the ground. But if you never ride them, you also give up on the thrilling climbs to the top, and the beautiful views when you're up there.

      I know my son and and husband can make me sadder, angrier, and more scared than anyone else ever could. But they also make me happier than anyone else. That's what love is.

      I'm trying really hard not to quote Bret Michaels here, but he knew a thing or two about roses...