I got mad

At my husband for some sideways comment about my weight. ( I’ve admittedly struggled with my mom bod but I have the expectation of my partner to respect my feelings and understand when they’ve been hurt and why) He works with a bunch of his bros where that kind of talk is the standard and meant in friendly jest. I’m not so keen on it.

However I use my anger to overcome a hurdle I’ve been fencing for awhile and finally lay down some tattoo lines on my fleshy fingers. I’d been building it up and overthrowing it for so long that it felt necessary to just do it to get it done instead of fretting about a design or symbol. The lines were clean enough , a little geometric criss cross going down my middle finger followed by a star on my pointer to balance the moon on my ring. It felt good to get it out but the heal will be the real judge for quality.

My husband apologizes when I wake him up to show him. The next day he allows me to lay some ink lines down on him too with my version of a little pirate skull he picked out from a tattoo coloring book some years back.

I’d been warned by my professional friends that the cheaper machines could be a little more biting. He chose his ankle for placement and is quite twitchy during the overall experience even though he has a number of large pieces himself, there’s not much blood at all but we stop before taking a shader to it. Regardless, I feel like the resulting piece came out pretty decent. Many of his friends he shows are complimentary, and I get a few volunteers for future practice. Could have turned out worse.
The following dayis Valentine’s and he takes me to my favorite restaurant, The Brutal Poodle. As always the food is excellence , and an absolute treat since I’m always the one cooking at home.

Heyo

I’m not sure why you can’t say it.

Maybe you don’t.
Or it’s your pride.

Do you love me like I love you?

Unconditionally.

I’ve always felt there was something much larger at play here.

Maybe I’m just insane.

Love you too.

“Emotionally unavailable”

I thought no one could ever hurt me that bad again but I was wrong. I am such a fool. The writing has been on the wall for at least a month now. To think I’ve been actually trying to hold it all in, give you space. I knew exactly what you were doing the whole time, not that you’ll even tell me the truth now when the whole world knows. You couldn’t even be discreet. I had to unfollow you on socials because it was just another big fuck you to me almost every day. You chose everyone over me. Him, all of your friends, people you don’t even talk to anymore. You never missed an opportunity to remind me how unimportant I was to you. Did I freak out about you blowing up my phone for a week about your dog food, even though you weren’t actually home the entire time, because in your haste to grab your stuff the last time we were together you forgot it? And your coat…in February. I bet you couldn’t even tell me what you left here. You couldn’t last time. But you made sure to grab your lingerie and sex toys. Was it barely even 24 hours before you had brought them over the most recent time I had to save you from him? We didn’t even use any of it, and still had the best sex we’ve ever had the night before you left. No, but I can’t be upset even though this clearly affects me pretty significantly. Im just walking on eggshells with you after all the lying and betrayal and gaslighting. I never even said anything to you because you’d just throw that in my face and tell me its none of my business and I’m being creepy and thats why you don’t want to see me. Or text me in the middle of the night with crazy accusations from some random number like I should be scared of your little chihuahua of a bf. Extra points for intentionally misspelling “stalking” as “stocking” so I might actually believe it was him texting me as you from his phone because you always told me how stupid he is. Nice try, but I already have his number, remember? From work?

There’s so much more I need to say but probably will now never get the chance to. I am so in love with you J, and you ripped my heart out into shreds like your dog with the toy I got her. Twice in the last month. Despite his tremendous and never ending list of sins, you will never stop going back to him. I wish you would’ve given me even 10% what you give him. That doesn’t matter now. I guess I’ll just have to take the pain and wait until the next time you call me, terrified and beat up, to come get you.

Until then, all my love.

deja Vu

She’s alot like you. Younger than you when we met. Less mature, based on some of the sacrifices you took upon yourself that made you grow up real fast. But otherwise theres alot of similarities. She also alternates between hot and cold on a moments notice, doing her damndest to push me away the second things start getting good, or too real. She also takes out all her anger against all the shitty men in her life on me, although, with her, I deserve it even less, because I definitely was dumb and immature when you knew me. Slightly less dumb and immature now. Mostly though, when things are good, theyre really good. But thats not that often. Usually things are bad, and when they are theyre really bad. Nonetheless, even with all the red flags, I feel like this is my chance to finally get right all the things I fucked up with you. Or at least answer all the questions I’ve always had about whether we would’ve worked out if I met you earlier, before you became so JADED. My failure with you has never stopped haunting me; maybe this is how I get the closure and peace I so desperately need, since its pretty clear you’ll never actually give me that. She’s dangerous though, and while you routinely humiliated me in front of my friends and made me feel like shit for years, I’m worried she’s gonna get me arrested or killed. Maybe thats even inevitable, some kind of disastrous outcome for me. But at least I’ll know I went down fighting a good fight.