There is something refreshing and renewing about the start of a new month. I've felt this way, particularly, since I've started doing my monthly budgeting and keeping track of my receipts. More specifically, though, I feel like it's one giant, "do-over" pass. Like, "Well, I fucked up that month. Let's see if this one goes any better." Learn from my mistakes, pick up the pieces, and move on.
Well, many of you know that I stopped writing about my romantic life ever since a couple of noteable individuals started reading my blog (one had the address and the other looked it up on his own). As much as I've tried to keep my first name out of this site, it still creeps in and Google can find it. So be it, right? There isn't much that I can do about it, except for start up a whole new site and that takes more time and energy than I can seem to muster right about now.
Last month was quite a doozy in the relationship department. DeepSeaDiver J. stopped seeing each other about two months ago. He was treating me like a mistress to his ex-wife. He didn't want to tell her that he was dating anyone, so he tried hiding any traces of me. I could only come over after she had picked up the kids (which was dependent upon how late she felt like staying at work), J. always introduced me as a 'friend' to his kids and would lock the door of the room that I was in if he thought there was any way that she might just "pop over", which she frequently did.
I wasn't standing for that. I cared for him, but I also care about my self-respect. He once got out of his car before pulling into a local restaurant, just to make sure that the Honda minivan in the parking lot didn't belong to his ex. That's how strongly he felt about avoiding any confrontation with her about his relationship with me.
He went back off-shore and we decided to stay friends. Friends that care about each other. The kind of friendship that can never really work. I met R. right around that time. He was good, kind, always available for me, attractive, and intelligent. He works as a computer programmer and is a single Dad to four pre-teen and teenaged kids. He has raised them by himself, 100%, for the past six years. R. knew about J., yet J. didn't know about R. (because he didn't need to, because we had no commitment to each other, because it was none of his business).
A little while ago, J. came into town for one night. He drove over from Louisiana to see his kids, to see me, to talk. It was a Sunday, but it was only one night, so I drove Zac and I over to his house (it should have been my first sign that he wasn't willing to come to my apartment). I told him that I had been dating R. and wondering where things were going to go with him. It was obvious that we still had feelings for each other. We talked and I stayed. Then he left and I never heard from him.
He said that he didn't make his mind up until after I had left for work the next morning, but in my heart, I knew that he used me. He was upset that I had found someone else to be with, so he used my body for what he could and then went back onto his boat off the Gulf of Mexico (and he no longer reads this blog).
I've never been a port girl before and I never will be again. I feel disgusting and cheap. Hurt and used. He actually thanked me for "my company".
I spent the weekend at R.'s house, still trying to recover from the three permanent fillings that were drilled into my mouth on Friday. I've never taken so much pain medication in my life as I have over these past two weeks. Everything hurts. That's what I leave behind from September and welcome October with a deep, cleansing breath.