Jesus Christ... Time for Change, Part 2

Well, blogger friends.... alot has happened since the last time I posted. After a long talk and a few more love sessions, Rawboy and I decided to try and make it work again. It was great for a while and he comendably stepped up to the boyfriend plate. Maybe my best friend cussing him out and telling him what an asshole he was had something to do with it, but I'd like to think it was because he realized I was worth holding onto. That WE were worth holding onto. But now the clouds have descended and the quiet before the storm is no longer quiet. The last few days have been hell- fighting, bitching, ranting, crying. My emotions have been rocked up and down, over and under and I found myself crying like a baby when he walked out the door. He was just going to work, but he still walked out the door.

I just can't do this. I can't make this work. HE can't make this work. And I DO want to blame, and I'm willing to take it. Inquiring minds want to know, and I don't give a shit if they think it's me. Bring it on. I just want this to be over. I want him to leave. I want to start over. I want to reclaim my life! But he says it's not about blame. What he won't say is that his ego has grown out of control, an unstoppable monster that has fed off of me for months now, leaving me weakened and drained.

And he can't date a girl who tells him to fuck off. Or go fuck yourself, or some sort of fuck-ing anything. Don't you just hate it when our favorite word gets in the way??

Don't get me wrong- it wasn't ALL bad. There were a few good times, like when we'd buy wine together and search for the perfect Belgian ale. When we went out for coffee and listened to jazz. When we got stoned and went to the dog park. But they just weren't enough. I can't take the fighting and he can't take the yelling. Soooo, decision to move out #2: Rawboy has until the end of the month. This time there's no making up. No making love. No making hummus or curry tofu. And there will be things that I'll miss, like him being here when I get home from work and his car in the front yard. I'll miss him sitting across from me at the kitchen table. Him opening the front door as I'm fumbling for my keys. It'll be hard. It always is. And I'm sure I'll cry a little when he takes the juicer.

My relationship with Rawboy has brought my insecurities to the surface, and I don't like what I see. I'm not happy with my body. I don't like feeling jealous. My confidence shrank as he got more involved in massage, leaving me everyday to go rub down naked, oiled women with their sore stupid muscles. And he just didn't understand. He just became cold. He evolved into the prick he was when we met, only more vocal. I wanted to help him, pull him out of his shell. But he didn't gain the confidence I had intended. I only perfected something he already had-alot of arrogance and his stifling ego. Where did I go wrong? I'm starting to think it was never me. I know who I am and I refuse to doubt myself. I simply refuse. And I've come to the conclusion that committed relationships are hard. Maybe too hard. Maybe we just need our space. Maybe I need to live alone. It is, in fact, much easier. So guys, I'm throwing in the towel. And if anyone's to blame, it's both of us. As far as internal work, we both have alot to do, learn, and change. I guess it'll just be done with someone else, another person to come along and get us further.

But I still have all of you, through thick and thin, unconditionally. And my daughter will be happy that I'm sleeping with her again, and not him. Life goes on.

I must go to bed now so I can get up early to not go to the gym. But before I go,
I'll leave my men with a little advice: Women need compliments, we need to feel sexy. Tell us that we turn you on, tell us to trust you! We need reasurrance that we are loved, that we're the only ones you see and we have nothing to worry about. Tell us we're beautiful and tell us often.

Until next time....