Monday, August 2, 2010

Songs to make love to your old lady by - the saga continues

So, I'm going to be completely serious for this one. No intentional joking, and it's probably going to be long.

If you're lucky enough to be a person that can dress themselves and speak without drooling, you've probably had a relationship. Which means you also know the crushing agony and torment when someone leaves you. Or, you know the crushing agony and torment of finally coming to terms with the fact that the person you, for no explainable reason that you or your friends can figure out, are so stupid in love with isn't going to change and will never, in fact, love you enough to attempt it.

Is this just me?

Anyway, I have mentioned my daughter's father in here. Chris was the very first person I ever loved after thinking I knew what love was, and I loved him so much it hurt. But not in a good way. Every single thing he did made my heart break, and I spent most of my time huddled up in the shower listening to that classic Annie Lennox song "Why". I only wish I were kidding. I spent a good three years in the shower. But at least I was clean by the time I split.

Chris and I argued frequently, and I would always ask him "Why don't you love me enough to try this?" and that's about the part of the argument where Chris would slam a door in my face and waddle off into his Cave Of Hating His Girlfriend. Between his time in the cave and my time in the shower, it's a wonder our daughter ever saw us together at all.

Anyway, when I finally got up the gumption to leave, it was really hard for me. I tell people all the time...and still do...that at that point I didn't care anymore and walking away was super easy. But the truth of the matter is, it ate me up inside. I wanted him to love me enough to be flexible, and there lies the rub. The ol' Grass is Greener Syndrome. Once I told Chris I was leaving and he figured out I wasn't bullshitting, he begged me to stay. Every day. I saw him cry, I heard him say he loved me, and the second I started to believe it was the second I started to hate his fucking guts with more passion than I had ever loved them with. I absolutely relished in his apparent sorrow, and even took to being insulting and cruel. Because in my girl brain, I felt like he deserved for the tables to be turned. I held secret clap and cackle sessions so I could allow myself time to express in bodily music how overjoyed I was that he finally knew how I had felt for the last three years. Unloved, unwanted, and completely pitiful.

Turns out, M. Night Shyamalan was directing this picture, and a twist of epic proportions came about!

I was dead the whole time, and it made my curator wife REALLY cold.

What really happened was I stopped being delighted and started being angry. Why couldn't this have been Chris when I was with him? Why couldn't he have wanted me when it mattered?

And it wasn't until years after the fact (this year, actually) that I discovered the song that perfectly encapsulated the absolute agony I felt during that dark and depressing time in my life.


Song : Fuck You Lucy

By :

(Slug : Proud Sponsor of Simon Says)

This song is excellent on several different levels. First, the almost excessive use of "fuck". I have such a soft spot for that word, because sometimes it's the only word that works. Also, I don't know about you, but I've always been a little bit disappointed that almost all of the big time 'wah wah my heart is broken' songs have been written and/or performed by women. It's sort of comforting to listen to a guy piss and moan about how much he hates his girlfriend for not needing him. Ok, so it's very comforting. Phil Collins doesn't count, by the way. I did solid research and he does, in fact, have a vagina.

So my scenario was a little bit different. I did the leaving. But the rest of the song still pretty much rings true for that period of my life. I really just wanted to say "Fuck you. I'm not ok. I don't know what to do." The only other glaring difference is...I was the only person that made the mistake of thinking that was love.

If you want to hear someone else as angry and fucked up as you are, take a listen. Sometimes, belting out swear words with someone who's writing your story practically verbatim is the best cure.

*as a sidenote, I don't know why the fuck I wrote this, or what purpose it serves. Giddy times will abound next cycle*

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