Some things are trying to kill you...
And most of us have these other things that keep us around, even when we don't want to be. I really haven't wanted to be around anymore, the past 2 1/2 months or so...

But there is the curl of my Rottweiler's ear, for instance, and the graceful weep of my tree.

About 24 hours before my world with Brian ended, him and I adopted a cat - an older kitten, really, named "Stitch." He quickly renamed himself Charlie (grin). Charlie is an orange and white short hair, mostly orange with white "boots" on his back legs and "mittens" on his front ones. And he has one white cheek (whisker pad) that just gets to me every time him and I are looking face to face. Anyway, Charlie, the very first night home, kept insinuating himself between Brian and I in bed. I think Brian was a bit flustered at it, but in retrospect, I find it almost a foretelling. If memory serves, Brian left the next day - I *think* he took a Greyhound all the way back to eastern PA where I had driven (mostly alone) just some three weeks earlier. No doubt he called his sister for money, as usual (according to his parents, she is forever bailing him out - wish I'd have had my eyes open long before, but I didn't, of course, or NONE of it would have happened). However he got there, he went running back to mommy and daddy, and left me in the house alone, with no way to stay there, and nowhere to go. Lovely feeling.

But I had my dog of nearly 5 years, and this new kitten, who stuck with me like glue. At first I found it annoying - after all, I was trying to figure out what just happened and what I was going to do about it, and this kitten (who also happens to be extremely "talky") was following me all over the house (I really was a zombie) and sleeping with me all night. I thought to take him back to where we got him, but decided to give it a few days. I'm so glad I did. He's one of the best cats I've ever had, and for at least a week, it was almost as if he was keeping me as sane as I could be, under the circumstances.

Now, I'm not stupid, but I am prone to believing kind words said with apparent sincerity. A real pigeon for that stuff, since I... crave it. All my life I thought there was someone who would "fit" with me - like a missing piece. I'm not really that unrealistic, but you know - I also don't think I'm *so* hard to get along with that the right guy wouldn't come along maybe someday. And I thought Brian was "it." He was bright and smart and funny, and I thought capable. But I wasn't being objective - at least not often enough. I do recall noticing things. Like how he "handled" disagreements - by leaving - by totally ignoring the fact that I exist. I can't have that - lol. About the worst thing someone can do is walk away from me over some small thing - it registers in my gut as if I'm not even worth the working out of minor disagreements - that's how much I mean to *them* - you know? And I told him that every time it happened. I stressed that it's the one thing I can't handle. I'd rather be shouted at - and I really dislike that - but I'll take it over the disappearing act (I feel I disappear in their eyes, not them from mine). I think that when you claim to love someone as much as he claimed to love me - you don't just walk out and pretend they never existed. I think love means you try everything else *first*. heh Just a bit of sarcasm there...

What were the signs I should have paid attention to, other than the fact that Brian's way of "dealing" with things was to not deal with them at all? Well, he didn't work, he rarely slept (bad conscience?), he wasn't friendly with *any* of his ex's, including his ex-wife. He *never* talked about his two kids (unless asked, then only briefly), he said he owned a car, but I never saw one when I was in PA. He never owned a house or, as far as I could tell, even had his own apartment. Apparently he'd always moved into women's apartments or houses.

He's very good at putting forth an image. I mean, he missed his calling as a salesman, if you ask me. I was lead to believe that, while he was away in the Navy, his wife went out "gallivanting" around. I'm not going to say some women don't do that, but usually - USUALLY - if they do, the marriage was already over, anyway. Something was missing (um, like in this case, his presence) - communication was already sparse or non-existent. At least that's been what I've seen of most women. Men "leave" often for the same reasons, actually. And an awful lot of people seem to not want to leave one relationship before they're "set up" with another first. That, I never understood...

Anyway, so I thought "Poor guy - he's off overseas, working for Uncle Sam, and his wife is home fooling around!" I bought it - 'cause he really does have a sweet demeanor. In fact, my nickname for him was "sweets," and I recall telling him he was the sweetest man I'd ever known. That might still actually be true. It's just that he kills your spirit while going around with all the sweetness - lol. In any case, I loved the guy. He told me he'd spent 11 years with this other woman, helping raise her 4 kids (one of which was autistic), but after he hurt his back and couldn't work for the moving company anymore, she "went out" on him and started fooling around, too. Now that he couldn't make money to support her and her kids, she kicked him out after finding another guy. I have to admit, I wondered why it was everyone he got involved with ended up fooling around, but it could happen to the nicest guy, so I didn't think about it with too much judgement.

So of course, it being her house, he moved in with his parents - and there was the fact that all 5 of his other brothers and sisters were married and gone, so he was the most likely candidate to take care of them in their ill health. It's true that they're both rather ill (after raising 6 kids, I would be, too, assuming I even lived through something like that), but the fact is, he had nowhere else to go. His dad actually laughed when I told him that Brian had said he moved in there to take care of them. I absolutely love his parents, by the way. And I liked the brothers and one sister that I met while in PA. More on that later...

Lots of people have hard luck. I understand that better than most, I think, as I've been there and have had a few really close friends who have been there. They're not bad people - it's not because they didn't try hard enough, etc. - things were stacked against them. That's what I thought was the case with Brian. My heart was just mush over his sad story. Apparently so was my brain...

In July, Brian told me that his doctor had finally deemed him "totally, permanently disabled," and signed such on the form that his lawyer would send in to Social Security. Finally, things would go through and he could get on with his life. In early August, he said that his lawyer told him his disability (and $40,000.00 in back pay) would "definitely go through by the end of the month" - or by the end of September, for certain. Great!, I thought - why don't I just drive to PA in September and bring him back here? That way, him and I could see the country while we were at it. I was going to rent a car, but as we talked about it, I first asked Brian if he drove a stick. He said he did, so why don't I just get *my* car road-worthy, and put the money into it instead of a rental car? Good idea! So I took my last $700.00 out of my checking account, and charged another $550.00 on my Sears card, and got my car ready. It made me nervous to be in debt, but Brian said it was absolutely no problem - we'll pay it off right away! After all, was this not now *our* car and *our* bills? Heh. Now I only needed money for the trip itself, so I sold some of my mutual funds. Ok, ok - Brian said we'd put it back, so no biggy, right? After all - we were an "us" and so everything we did we'd figure out together. Right?

Right.

So, I'm driving, with my dog, to PA to bring my baby back here, where he belongs, because we're so fucking "in love" we just can't stand to be apart anymore. Besides, why wait? His lawyer's always given him the straight scoop before, and he says Brian's disability will go through by the end of September (*for certain*). Haven't we waited long enough to be together? We met online in July of the year before - so we knew each other for about 14 months, and he'd come to visit for 11 days the previous December. At which time, by the way, he told me he'd be moving to Arizona by my birthday, which was in January of 2003. It was now September - let's get *on* with it, already!

Let's just say that traveling cross country in a small car with a big dog, wasn't my idea of a good time. I couldn't wait to get there, but after the first day, I started to wonder if I was doing the right thing. I was *so tired* I could hardly get the key in the motel room door. Then I had to feed/walk the dog. Then somehow feed myself. Then walk him again before I could finally get some sleep. In the morning it was all rush rush - feed the dog, shower, take dog for walk, repack car, get gas for another ten/twelve hours of driving. Four days/nights of this.

I get there - I get lost in the small town he lives in. I end up on the "wrong side of the tracks" at some gas station, where I call. He meets me - it's wonderful. He looks great, he feels great. Having those strong arms around me was all I needed - that, and a shower - lol. He'd gotten a nice motel room so we could have privacy instead of staying at his parents' house. We stayed four days, during which time I met at least two brothers and a sister, and went for a walk in Brian's favourite park. Was nice. I felt better than I expected to. Mack seemed to be having a good time, too - and at one point he jumped into the creek, making a play for some of the ducks. All seems fine. I'm on top of the world.

One night I go to play bingo with his sister, and she lets me know that she's the one that paid for the motel room. Hmmmm. I don't know what her motive was there, but she struck me as someone who needed to be recognized as sort of "running the show." I didn't know what to say - thanks? Oh? Um, I didn't know that? Nothing I could say, so I think I smiled and said nothing (old standby "safe" response - lol). I never told Brian that she told me that. I felt sorry for him that she did.

Anyway, the day comes to head back to Arizona. Brian gives me $200.00 and says I should keep it for the trip back. Have to admit I was stunned. I'd just spent about $1700.00 getting my car ready, and another $800.00 getting there. I was confused. I know he (or rather, his sister) paid for the motel while we were in town, but...

I chose not to worry about it - things would get straightened out once we were home. He mentioned borrowing money to sort of tie him over until the end of the month when his disability was sure to come through, so I didn't worry about it on the way home.

But on the first day, I found out he doesn't know how to drive stick, after all. I mean, he took some quickie lessons on his brother's truck or something - but that's not the same as "knowing how to drive stick." Oh oh. Looks like I'd be doing most of the driving back home, too. Well, if he was willing to walk Mack and get dinners at motels and stuff, then I could drive back. But it bothered me, I admit, that when I asked, before deciding to bring my own car, if he could drive stick, his reply was "of course!" This wasn't someone who was rusty at it - it was someone who'd never done it before a week or so ago, and then maybe only a couple of times. I was scared he'd strip my gears or burn out my clutch. So of course I drove almost all the way back myself.

I distinctly don't like being lied to. It's not a moral thing. It's a trust thing. If this wasn't true, what else wasn't true? When was the next bomb gonna fall? Well, I'll tell ya - lol. It fell soon after we got back, and I realized that I was still going to have to drive everywhere, and pay all the bills, because his disability wasn't coming through, and his brother wasn't coming through, either. His brother told him he had to ask his wife about it. You *know* what that means. It's a polite "Ah, no."

Soon after we got back, Mack got very sick. He was all mopey and his eyes droopy and he had the runs something awful. The morning Brian told me Mack didn't want to go for a walk, I should have called a Vet, but I thought he just didn't want to go. A few days later, Mack was drugged by my insane next door neighbour. So it was a rush to the Vet. He'd caught Psitticosis (sp?) - a bacteria that birds carry - no doubt, the Vet said, he'd gotten it when he jumped in after those ducks in PA. The droopiness was definitely some kind of tranquilizer, and the Vet thought he'd shake that off - that whomever gave it to him didn't realize how much he weighs and under-dosed him. That is, if they were trying to kill him, they missed. Long story about my crazy neighbour. Someday, maybe. Suffice to say she moved out shortly after I did - damn it. Her husband was all happy - "I've been waiting for this for 2 1/2 years!" he exclaimed.

It was that same day - with a big Vet bill, the house payment, electric bill, internet bill, utilities bill, and Sears credit card bill (for my car) coming due, and me asking Brian what we're going to do for money, that he left. How supported I felt! How reassured that there really was an "us"! ("You mean, it takes money to live? Fuck. I'm outta here!") Gawd. I fell apart. What was I gonna do now? How did I let this happen? How did I let myself believe in this? Was I nuts? I tell you - "in love" is a form of insanity. I think we can all do without it, except, maybe, from a distance. Love is another thing altogether. Love sticks by you. Love loves you and will try everything not to hurt you.

OK - I'm gullible. I'm weak in spots. But I tell you, I'm also tough as nails, and that's part of the "problem." All my life I've attracted weak men who "feed" on my strength, and when they see it ebbing (as it will do from time to time), they leave, off in search of someone else on which to conduct their parasitic little lives.

The men I've met have gotten better and better at hiding their weakness. I can't say I never saw Brian run from a situation, but I thought I was too important to him by then. I *never* thought he'd just leave. Vanity and blindness and being "in love." I don't know what kind of miracles the next guy will have to perform to win me over, but he'd better have started practicing, like, a century ago. 'Cause I am going to be one hard sell, lemme tell ya.

I nearly lost my best friend over this weakling, seller of dreams (smoke and mirrors). I nearly lost my dog. I did lose my house. I loved that house - the house where I thought I'd finally, finally, be happy. It's on the market as I write this. Every time I have to go there, it's another emotional trial. I come back here, and have nightmares. People are chasing me - wanting to feed off of me, wanting to tell me lies and laugh at my belief in them. Sounds pitiful. Feels it, too. I admit to getting into horrendous bouts of self-pity - the old "why me?" and how a guy I'm with only has to be a nice guy. Of course, that's not true. He's gotta be smart, and he's gotta make me laugh, and he's gotta convince me that I matter a lot. But shit - if Brian could perform that magic trick, so could just about anyone. (wry smile)

I certainly didn't need yet another guy leaving me like so much baggage. What do you trust? Who? Can I believe anything that anyone says, at all? You know - they say that if you feel no one values you, it's because you don't value yourself. I used to buy that, but... nahhhhh! I've got an ego. I know I'm smart. I know that I could love someone, and I know I'm lovable. I know how to do a lot of things. I can outplay just about anyone at poker - lol. And no, I'm not the easiest to live with, but I'm not *that bad*, either. I'm funny, love to laugh, I see the irony in life. But any hint that I'm not very important (unless I do such and such or be such and such), and yeah, I get to be a bit difficult - heh.

So, some time goes by. I go through suicidal periods that don't even scare me - waking up the next day scares me more. I came very, very close to pulling the trigger. One evening I laid in bed and just held my gun for a few hours, thinking, "What the fuck difference would it make, really? Who'd care? And wouldn't they all just say - 'I knew she wasn't right!' or somesuch, then go about their pathetic little lives?" I was thinking all these things, and staying in bed all the time, because every time I left the bedroom, there was just me and the house where my dreams used to live. And there was nowhere else to go. I didn't have a mommy and daddy to run away to. I never did.

But I had a sister, I thought. When I called her, after a week or so, and told her what happened, I didn't hear again for over a week. When I did hear, it was an obligatory thing - I could tell. "So, are you better now?" Fuck that. I didn't want/need that. I told her the truth - I wasn't sure where I was going to end up. I asked if she would be there should it come to me not having anywhere to go or anyone to turn to. She hemmed and hawed, in that endearing way of hers, then said "I guess it's just that I've had to *work* for everything *I* have." I stood there, phone to ear, mouth open, trying to replay those words in my head to be sure that's really what I was hearing. And what came out of me was, "I *knew* something like that was lurking. Bye, Sandy." And I hung up, and crumbled.

Now it was just me, my dog, my kitten, and my best friend Ran who, though I kicked him out of the house to be with my "love," still called me his best friend. I could give up all illusions of "famility" I've held so stubbornly to. It didn't exist. It seems I've forever heard, "When the chips are *really* down, family will be there." Well? The chips were really down. Hey! Where is everyone? lol I guess it's one of those things that sounds good, but heaven forbid you actually test it out and see if it works. I hope no one reading this ever finds out that instead of the loved family member you think you are, you're really more like the weird cousin they keep in the basement because they feel too guilty to put her in an institution.

So I fell apart some more. My sister, for whom I would have done literally anything, more or less told me to fuck off. Politely, of course, which is her way.

After my hurt bubbled for a while and condensed, it turned into outrage. Why those snobs! Who the fuck do they think they are, anyway? Right now, the sister I would have done anything for, well, if she was drowning, I'd stand and watch, and maybe give her the advice to kiss her own ass goodbye. She shoulda learned to swim - after all, *I've* had to *swim* for everything *I* have. She sells women's fragrances at Macy's, by the way. Someday I hope to aspire to such importance. My god - who *does* she think she is?

When I think about it - when I really take a cold, distant look at it, I never liked my sister's family. What a bunch of useless snobs. All out for themselves, and only themselves. And both of the kids are carbon copies. No wonder the world is such a sad place - *that's* what is being churned out. These are the same two "kids," by the way, who are both collection agents, and brag about it. My niece actually said she loves her job because, every day, she's in touch with people who are in trouble, and she's not. Lovely folks.

Then again, they are happier than me, I think. I don't know how, but I think they are. So maybe it's the "right" way to be, I don't know. Yes, I do know - I'd rather be dead than be dead and still walking around, like they are.

What snobs. It amazes me. I'm sure that all these years she thought every contact we had was a favour she was doing me. OMG - I bet she thinks that. Oh, I am so lucky to have such a sister with such a nice family. How blessed I am! Every Thanksgiving, that's what I say at dinner's prayer. Pffffffffft!

I got so tired of the feeling that they were somehow doing me a favour by inviting me for holidays, that I stopped going over a year ago. I felt slimy every time I was there, though I didn't know why exactly. If they only knew just how big my ego really is. It didn't occur to me before I realized it, that they thought they were doing anything for *me*. I thought they were lucky to have my company, when I was willing.

Really!

I'm so insulted they thought otherwise. Actually makes me feel physically ill. I remember so many times wondering if I'd stayed long enough to be polite, before I could rush over to the nearby casino to play my beloved poker. Didn't want to eat and run, ya know, even though that's exactly what I wanted to do - make an appearance and leave so I wouldn't have to hear the droning of sports on TV one more minute. Heaven forbid you actually talk with the people there - SHUSH! FOOTBALL IS ON! I couldn't *wait* to leave. And yet they were, in their minds, doing *me* some sort of favour. Oh my fucking God. Wish I'd have known that at the time, I could have stopped going over long before I did.

So, Brian was gone, my sister was gone, my house was gone, I was gone. At least for a while. I didn't know if I'd be back. And it was the first time in my life - no sob story - a life full of lots of turmoil - that I didn't have any idea if I'd ever be back. But I'm coming back, slowly, slowly. Yet I'd feel badly for any nice guy who tried to get too close right now. I'd chew his head off and show it to him before he died - lol.

I loved Brian. More than any other man, I think, except maybe my dad. I needed what I saw as his optimism. I thought it was a sense of "together, we can do anything," when in reality, it was just a hopeless lack of a sense of reality. *sigh* I confuse optimism borne of self-confidence with dreams borne of lack of stability, and I tend to forget how irresponsibly someone like me can be dragged into it. They don't care that they leave dead bodies in their wake. We're not real anyway, right? If they go away and not see us, don't we just disappear? Can't they just keep ignoring until they die? I guess so. And I almost wish I could, too.

More when I can...