bethofalltrades: (Default)
posted by [personal profile] bethofalltrades at 12:57am on 31/03/2009 under , , ,
I had a dream about my ex girlfriend last night. We passed each other in an office hallway as if we didn't know each other. I turned and held out my arms and she turned and saw and walked back to me.

She has no internet presence. No MySpace, no blog, no twitter, no Facebook, no Friendster, no LJ. Evidence of my current life and loves is all over the net but she's a virtual ghost.

We were always different in that way. I am an open book. She demanded privacy. Two ends of the spectrum, both strange in our extremes.

But now we haven't spoken in a year and a half and she's not holding up her end of the arrangement. She can view my triumphs and setbacks from a safe distance but if I want to know about her life, this woman who I shared the darkest parts of me with, I have to call.

I'm not going to call.

We have been apart longer than we were together. She moved on before the ashes were cold, leaving me railing and frothing about Staten Island gym teachers. She might be a half dozen women past that one by now. I don't know.

I am still sad about it. I don't want her back. I don't want to hit her or poison her dog or key her car. I don't want to ask why, because the why is simple: sometimes it doesn't work. Sometimes what you are feeling and what the other person is feeling are different.

Sometimes you can make yourself into what the other person seems to want only to find that she liked what you were before better.

I was a child in that relationship. I let her dictate the rules and the boundaries. She wanted someone she could mold and teach. She needed to be smarter and wiser and more worldly. She needed to be more balanced. She wanted an urban-trendy professional girlfriend so I bought gold slip on sneakers and wore khakis and blazers.

I am wearing a blazer today, but it's over a Battle Circus t-shirt. I pitched the sneakers for Doc Martens. Tattoos-- which she didn't like on me, she said-- have been revealing themselves on my arms like bruises and I love them because I finally feel real.

I say that no one dies. I calm my inner spastic freak-out princess. I breathe. I open my heart to as my people as I can stuff in it, I open my home to most who ask, I go to yoga when I'm not being lazy and I don't shower every day anymore. My ex showered twice a day most of the time and I got in the habit too, but honestly? I like being dirty sometimes.

In the dream, when I held out my arms, I saw the tattoos and wondered if she would still know me. Not recognize me. Know me.

I don't think she does. No matter how much of myself I toss out into the internet, no matter if she sees every photo of me flashing my panties at the merch table, no matter if she reads this blog, that girl doesn't know me any more.

I don't know her anymore either.

I don't think I want to.

But I want to know ABOUT her.

bethofalltrades: (Default)
posted by [personal profile] bethofalltrades at 01:13am on 01/11/2008 under , ,
I believe in anniversaries. That a mood can be repeated, even if the event that caused it is trivial, or forgotten. In this case, it's neither.
-Crave, Sarah Kane

Dear Princess,

Our last anniversary passed just now. It's been a year since the last time I kissed you.

With the ex before you, it ended abruptly. I remembered the last time I'd kissed her and I regretted that I didn't hold it longer. Had I known it was going to be the last, I would have made it memorable rather than mundane.

But with you, I made them all count. I never knew which one would be the last. When the end came, I had no idea. I left that morning while you were in the shower. I left a note on your table. "I love you. We have more journey to take together. This is not over."

You texted me, "I love your note" and the next day you met someone else.

That part you denied for a month, but I knew.

You said she was brave and confident. She made you laugh. It was fun. We weren't fun anymore.

Our last anniversary passed. I got through every one of them just fine. The Christmas party where we first connected. Your birthday, my birthday, the fourth of July. The day we broke up. The day you first kissed me. New Year's Day, the day marking OUR beginning, became, without my even knowing it, the day marking MY new beginning.

What I'm saying, darling, is that your ghost has been officially evicted. She was my unwelcome tenant for the year it took for all these anniversaries to pass, but it's time.

Princess... I met someone. I don't even know if she likes me, but I made her laugh once and I'm determined to do it again.

So this is goodbye.

bethofalltrades: (Default)
posted by [personal profile] bethofalltrades at 08:35pm on 22/12/2007 under ,
Dear Tori-

Division of our assets.

As follows. )
bethofalltrades: (Default)
posted by [personal profile] bethofalltrades at 02:32pm on 29/11/2007 under ,
Today is... awful. I am barely holding myself together. I'm not sure why.

I told Pam and Erin everything last night. Everything. I think I told them things I've even censored from all of you, because I got on a roll and things just started popping out. I feel guilty that I exposed some of her private issues, but they became my issues. I kept Tori's confidences and told her lies for so long.

And yet... no one was actually that fooled. They both exclaimed, "I knew it!" when I said that we had dated. Erin says she knew from the start that Tori was an addict, showing up to work with her red eyes and then bouncing off the walls.

I want to send her the email. It's irrational, because it would do no good. She is so absorbed in her own sanctity that she would never see anything I wrote in it as a legitimate point. She'd fire something back and the cycle will start and I will have lost the game of silence.

I want her to suffer. I want her to hurt.

I warned her, in the blush of the best three months we had-- the only three solid months that she was sober-- I warned her that while I was the best girlfriend she would ever have, if she were to break my heart I would be the worst ex-girlfriend ever known. She laughed like I was joking.

Word to the wise. If you break my heart, I will rage and curse you, I will burn your effigy and plot your demise, my car won't swerve if I see you in the crosswalk, I will tell all our mutual friends about every scar you inflicted, I will put your name and story and every detail of our pathetic sex life on the Internet for strangers to read, I will give myself a black eye and tell the police you did it, I will write a play all about your insecurities and send you an opening night invitation, I will wish pain upon your family and death upon your pets, and if I see you on the street I will look right through you because you no longer exist as a person for me, you are an entity, a wretch that caused me pain and if I cannot obliterate you I will destroy you by ignoring you, I am every nightmarish vision of a silver screen jilted lover only a hundred times worse and by the time I am finished with you, you will wish that you had emerged from your mother's womb blue and without a gasp for air.

I'll stop ripping off Sarah Kane and go back to smiling politely at foreign dignitaries.

bethofalltrades: (Default)
posted by [personal profile] bethofalltrades at 03:30pm on 28/11/2007 under ,
i didnt like how we ended yesterday, it got ugly. i dont expect everything to be settled, i just wanted to apologize for my role in it. I have nothing but good feelings for you, i hope one day you recognize it was the right decision. I never intentionally meant to hurt you.

Fuck you. What part of "I don't want to hear from you" didn't you understand?

Poor Tori. She didn't intend to hurt me. All these things "just happened." She lied, but it wasn't her fault. She took up with someone else while stringing me along, but whoops, these things just happen. It's like saying "the gun went off" or "the car went off the road." The gun went off because someone pulled the trigger and the car went off the road because the person driving it was drunk. These things don't happen on their own.

Because I do not intend to dignify this last ditch effort to prevent me from hating her (because she cannot stand to be hated), here's the response she would get, if I still had any interest in playing this fucked up game. You get it instead.

It's long. )

bethofalltrades: (Default)
posted by [personal profile] bethofalltrades at 02:59pm on 26/11/2007 under ,
Let's talk about what is true. Up until this afternoon, I still had hope that the Princess and I would get back together. I believed her when she said she couldn't be in a relationship. I honestly thought that Grandma would die and she'd realize her mistake and want me back.

I didn't think that out loud. Something deep inside me thought it, though.

What I've been experiencing for the past two months wasn't heartbreak. You can't have heartbreak if you still have hope. I had forgottten what heartbreak feels like.

When Julie and I broke up--(oddly enough, I now think of Julie without any malice and even a certain amount of... warmth. I cannot imagine thinking of the Princess like that, but I am wise enough to recognise that eventually I will, once enough time has passed)-- that was heartbreak.

When Julie and I broke up, I didn't eat for 6 days. Days 1 and 2 because I was shocked and had no appetite. Days 3 through 6... that was a teetering on the edge. I liked the way I felt... thin, light, empty. I liked that I had so much willpower.

I've never had an eating disorder I've never been anorexic but I understand the compulsion. I have and do eat compulsively and they are not so different. It all has to do with filling a hole inside us. An anorexic fills it with a sort of power, I think. I, on the other hand, fill it with Entemann's donuts.

These past two months, my eating issues returned with a vengence. I didn't gain weight, mostly because I still have elements of that control I once flirted with. Binge on Sunday? Skip dinner Tuesday through Thursday and you'll still lose weight at your Friday meeting. I felt like I was beating the system.

That's loneliness. That's emptyness. That is not heartbreak. I was not trying to cure heartbreak with Domino's pizza.

Heartbreak puts a lump in my esauphogus. Food can't get past it. I tried, I really did. At the cafe today, I bought some soup. I even got the large because I was hoping that large amounts of food would quell the shaking in the core of my stomach. I got four bites in and then I sat there, staring at my newspaper.

"Hey? Why do you look so fuckin' pissed?"

I turned and looked at the guy next to me. He was looking at me expectantly. I shrugged.

"No reason."

He waited. I waited. He was one of those pseduo skater punks, with the skullcap and t-shirt of a band I'd never heard of. Steel toed boots. Nice touch, even though he was as much street rat as he was angel.

"My ex has been seeing someone since, literally, the second we broke up a month ago. Some thirty five year old dyke bitch from STATEN ISLAND."

He shuddered at Staten Island. Anybody who's been in New York more than a week knows that Staten Island is another name for Hell and that even Jersey ranks above Staten Island in the list of places sane people would want to live. Staten Island was built on top of a garbage dump. They're a hop skip and a ferry away from Manhattan but it takes fashion an extra year and a half to get there. Hairstyles are stuck in 1989. It smells funny and has strip malls. No one likes Staten Island.

"Want to talk about it?"


He waited. I waited. And then I proceeded to tell him the whole sordid story. It was like the Complete Works of William Shakespeare (abridged!) I was up, I was down, he laughed at the funny parts and got appropriately serious at the sad ones. I used the word "cunt" several times, which he deemed "ballsy."

And then... the story was over and he said, "I guess that's a good reason to be really fuckin' pissed." I agreed and then I left. The woman who rings me up every day told me to feel better, so either she could tell from my face that I was upset or my voice travelled.

Who am I kidding? That entire cafe knows all about how my ex-girlfriend is a lying cunt who USED HER DYING GRANDMOTHER as an excuse to break up with me.

Mad props to the pseduo skater in the cafe. Also, mad props to the guy on the street who ALMOST kept a straight face when he heard me say this to Moogie on the phone:

"I cannot fucking believe her. Do you know what she said? She said that she still "gots love" for me and if she was here right now, she'd hug me. And I said that it's a good thing she's not here right now, because I would PUNCH HER IN THE FACE! You're laughing like I'm joking! Gay men have a time-honored tradition, it's called Punch and Delete. First you PUNCH THE MOTHERFUCKER IN THE FACE, then you delete them from your cell phone. I deleted her a month ago. When do I get to PUNCH?! You know, I asked how hold the new bitch was and when she said 35, I was like, of course she's old. And then I was like, it's funny you date old broads, considering you're nowhere near ready to settle down. I mean, aren't this bitch's ovaries shrivelling up as we speak?"


I told her I want the rest of my stuff back. My Sarah Kane, the tryptic she gave me for my birthday, the necklace of her grandmothers. I was tactful, but firm. I told her that if it matters that much to her, she can keep the necklace, but that I wanted her to know that I'd noticed that it was missing from my jewelry box.

She said she was "glad we were being honest with each other." I told her I was fucking pissed that she'd lied to me, and there, isn't honesty great?


I didn't eat cookies. I didn't cry in the rain. I didn't do anything but raise my voice and curse a lot. I hesitate to say that I feel any better.


The Princess always said that I was overdramatic. It's not that. It's that, in the moment, sitting in the rain and walking in front of taxis really seems like the appropriate action. There is obviously a part of my brain that says, "whoa, um, dude? no" but there is a larger part that verbalizes that ignores it. I wouldn't DO it. I just feel like doing it.


And into this abyss, my phone rings. It rang, actually, at 1:17PM. At 1:21PM (thanks Gchat timestamp!) the Princess dropped her little bomb. So I spent the next forty-five minutes dealing with that shit and then I went out to lunch and, on the way, checked my voicemail.

Hi, Beth! It's Rachel, I'm back in town. I wanted to call and see what you were doing this weekend. I was thinking maybe we could go out on a date on Friday? Well, um... call me! Oh, and this is Rachel. Did I say that?

Poor Rachel. She is great, funny, smart. Really cute. And I am a frickin' mess, so much so that the thought of going out with her on Friday kind of makes me want to throw up. Like, why couldn't Rachel have popped up in my life after I'd already 100% gotten over the Princess and her bullshit? I'm like, dude, you're cute, but your timing BLOWS.

bethofalltrades: (jill fuck you)
posted by [personal profile] bethofalltrades at 01:24pm on 08/11/2007 under , ,
I glanced down and the clock said "1:23". Not as lucky as "12:34," but still enough to wish on.

"I wish that Tori and I would..."

And I stopped. I realized that the time for wishing is finished. That hurts. She really had me convinced with her mumbo jumbo "if you ask the universe for it, it will come" bullshit. Her with her video of The Secret and her Oprah Magazine and blah blah blah "give it to the universe."

I gave it to the universe. I had faith in the universe. I wasn't wrong.

The thing she neglected to mention is that I shouldn't have put my faith in her.

It is the time for new wishing to begin.

"... I wish for true--"

Click. 1:24.

"--love. Damn it."

bethofalltrades: (Default)
Day six of not speaking. At this point, it becomes a contest. Whoever breaks first loses.

I keep picking up the phone to call her, but I am not an amiable loser.

Cut because I sound like a total whackjob. And probably am. )


I am much fucking angrier than you think.
-Crave by Sarah Kane
Mood:: ambivalent
bethofalltrades: (Default)
So I now have cats.

I signed up to foster cats through Gotham City Kitties. They're AMAZING and really kindhearted people. They brought two cats over to my house last night-- Taffy (soon to be renamed, because he's a boy) and Cinderella.
This is Taffy. )

When the Elizabeths (one a lawyer, one a fashion designer) who run GCK brought the kitties over, Taffy strode proudly out of the carrier, surveyed the room, ate some food, used the litterbox and settled in for a nap. Taffy is kind of aloof, enjoys napping in the sunshine, and is willing to be petted only when HE wants to be.

(The new names we're considering for Taffy are Milo and Barney (after NPH in How I Met Your Mother.) I'll see what sticks. I'm not sure if Cinderella will remain Cinderella or be abbreviated to Ella.)

Cinderella refused to come out of the carrier and then hid in Elizabeth the fashion designer's lap. Eventually she was transferred over to me and she sat with me and allowed me to pet her for about four hours.

Then she ran under the bed, where she remained until I had the bright idea to STICK MY HANDS UNDER THERE to touch her. Because she totally let me hold and pet her yesterday, right?

Needless to say, I have less blood in me than I had this morning and I have four new fang marks in my left arm.

Cinderella is hiding under the fold-up cot in the closet (actually a room about 10X12) as we speak. Which is why there are no photos of her.

So... kitties! I'm not sure how long they'll be staying. Taffy is adoptable, but Cinderella is not, at the moment. (Of course, that is okay with me because she's my favorite because she's skittish and a misfit and because she inflicted pain upon me.)


Today, I cleaned the fridge! Yay! It's been... okay, too long since it was cleaned. Our kitchen has been kind of a disaster area, so I suggested we all split up the chores and I took the fridge/freezer. It got a real deep clean and now I feel okay with actually putting food in there.

It's a step... toward me admitting that I will be cooking at home again soon. I've resisted going grocery shopping, thinking that at any moment I'll again be eating most of my dinners with the Princess. Well, today I bought milk and cleaned the fridge and it's all a start, I suppose.

It makes me very, very sad. Day five of no contact with her and I keep expecting that when the phone rings, it will be her. I'm waiting even more than before and I'm more sad than I was when we had a stupid pseudo-but-not-really relationship and hung out once a week. At least I had once a week to look forward to. I know that logically a clean break is best, but I'm still standing here saying, "But it's not really broken!"

I was really depressed yesterday and then the cats came and I felt much better. Cinderella is a living being I can heap my love upon. The poor cat doesn't even know what's coming. As if biting would make me go away. Ha! I've had worse! Bring it. I am going to smother you with love, you little furry beast.

All in all, the cats were a better option that BABY!, which is, of course, always the other option. Although there was a little boy in the grocery store, about 15 months old, who ran over to me, wrapped his arms around my leg and GRINNED. I was like, okay, where's the barcode on that one, because I'm taking him home.

... I didn't, of course. KT frowns on kidnapping.

I haven't showered today. I feel gross, yet I don't really want to shower either. Partially because I have six band-aids on my left arm and partially because it somehow seems appropriate that I'm greasy and sitting in the dark.

Jeez, I'm a ray of sunshine. I'm not depressed, I swear, I'm just sad.

But... kitties!!!

bethofalltrades: (Default)
posted by [personal profile] bethofalltrades at 10:39pm on 30/09/2007 under , , , ,
I feel like I should update.

First of all, thank you all for the love you've sent my way this past week. It helps more than I can possibly say. I will respond to all of your comments when I get a chance to.

I am back in New York. This feels good and right. My vacation to P-town was absolutely amazing, just what I needed, but I was glad to come home on Saturday (yesterday.)

The Princess... my gut tells me this is not over. Not just because I don't want it to be.

But I am being cautious. I am enjoying my time alone. I am bonding with my own apartment. I'm not jumping on a train at a moment's notice just because she wants to see me. I am recognising that there are flaws in her, some of which really bother me-- not the least of which is that when the going got tough, she... went. Is this someone who I can count on in the future?

My own hurt and fear is coloring this entry. I know that I was very happy with her. I know that she is often a kind, generous, warm, loving, thoughtful, funny, intelligent, dynamic person-- even if she can sometimes be selfish, cold, and inconsiderate.

I regret that I am so burned by the past week that I no longer have it in me to leap. When did I become so cautious? I miss fearlessness.


In other news, I got a fantastic temp job for the next two weeks-- assistant to the VP of the Rockefeller Foundation. Sure, it's only two weeks, but I'm thrilled. And, for the record, even as a temp gig it pays better than the Food Bank did.

KT helped me put together outfits for the week. She threw things together and I was shocked to find that I can, in fact, look like a grown up. In my skirt-suit, I even look like a corporate whore. The look KT referenced most often for the other outfits was "art gallery owner," usually modified by a word or phrase like "Upper East Side" or "lesbian."

I had no idea I had such fabulous clothes. Of course, most of them came from thrift stores in Ohio and PA back when I visited in April. None of them fit at the time-- I just had a LOT of faith. All the skirts that fit today were size 8s. This I am thrilled about.


When I was younger, 12 or 13, I used to look at my mother's senior high school photo and think that she looked like the most beautiful young woman I'd ever seen. I was convinced that I would never have that look: those amazing cheekbones, the classic smile, the impeccable hair.

My hair is far from impeccable, but when I looked in the mirror today while KT was helping me pair a deep purple slim turtleneck with dark gray wide-leg trousers and black heels, I was a young woman. Absolutely shocking. Neat.

bethofalltrades: (Default)
posted by [personal profile] bethofalltrades at 04:06pm on 25/09/2007 under , , ,
P-town is beyond beautiful. I am so glad I came.

The Princess and I are over. Blah blah blah, she can't put any energy into our relationship because her grandmother is dying, blah blah, there were problems and if she had energy she would have worked at fixing them, but she doesn't, so she can't, blah blah let's stay friends.

I didn't know of the problems. I knew she'd been stressed and depressed and miserable re: Grandma. I knew we hadn't had much time to be a couple. I knew we'd only had sex once in the past two months.

I didn't know that I was a burdon rather than a blessing. I didn't know that there was anythin we needed to be working on.

"We stopped growing together," she said.

Well, no shit Sherlock. You haven't had any energy to grow with me since your life became consumed with the fact that your grandmother is dying. Sometimes it's enough to exist together until the hard times pass, at which point I think you'll realize that growth has, indeed, occurred, even if you haven't been consciously working at it.

She still wants to be friends. I do not know how this is possible. In my heart, in my head, this is the woman I wanted to marry. This is the woman I wanted a life with. This is not my bud who I hang out with once a week.

I am sad, I am angry, I am all the cliched things. She said, "Well, even if you'd known it would end this way, wouldn't you have done it anyway?"


My first impulse is to say "yes," while my second impulse is to say, "NO! I would have done it with someone who was eventually going to marry me and have a life with me!"

It's so hard. I get so involved and then... I fall apart. I remember what it was like with Julie-- and we were having problems! We were miserable! In this case, I was happy (I thought we were happy) and the only problem was grandma dying.

(Side note: I'm convinced that Grandma will outlive us all.)

She said she didn't think it was fair to drag me through the next months of grandma dying and her being depressed, only to come out on the other side and have her maybe not decide to be with me. She said the only relationship she could have right now is one that is a well-oiled machine that needs no maintenance.

I am angry. I am still hopeful. These two things war within me.

But, really, I'm functioning better than when Julie and I broke up. And, hey, this time I didn't get an STD out of the deal, so that rocks! (Side note: STDs are always funny.) And ultimately I needed to suffer then, because that suffering led me to New York.

...where I now have no job, no girlfriend, and an apartment in the ghetto.

I wish this entry was more coherent, more cohesive in its emotional journey.

I went to David's office after talking with Tori today. He hung a sign on his door that said, "Warning: post-breakup lesbian meltdown inside. Probably better to go around to the box office window."

When I came back from the bathroom, a fortyish gay man pointed to the sign and cheerily said, "Oh, is this you?"

Yep. That would be me.




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