Tag Archives: men

She’s not alone.

I am so tired

and

everything in life

is going

very amazingly.

I wrote him a poem.

He admires me.

I’m afraid to speak the words back

because I have so little trust in words,

so little trust in feelings,

because they are fickle and fail me all the time.

I choose just to try.

I choose to try to love.

I choose to show, not with words to express feelings,

but with actions and consistency.

Because I use my words to cycle through the thoughts and feelings and loneliness and desire

but now is the time for action.

So I make every act an act of love.

And I try to act as frequently as possible.

As frequently as necessary.

Sometimes it is necessary not to act.

Sometimes love is in the patience.

And other times words and feelings betray me.

Because I know they are based on fickle things, I know they will not last, and I know that they will melt away into the air like the thoughts they’re founded on.

Love is a continuous and conscious effort to do the right thing.

I am loving him.

I will love him.

It doesn’t mean that I won’t hurt him.

But I am open to doing the most, doing my best, to love him without causing unnecessary pain…To recognize when I am in the way of his love, when I am not loving at all.

Love is an action.

And I’m about to fall asleep.

So I’ll love him when I wake up, or in my dreams.

Whichever comes first.

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Lower that Bar!

A female friend and I went out with two of our guy friends the other night (I’ll name them Mike and Don), and because these guys are particularly unafraid of awkward conversations and ever dwelling on their own singlehood, Don suddenly asked my friend and I why we weren’t married yet.

We didn’t have much to say in response to that, other than the usual “Haven’t met ‘The One'”, (even though neither of us is really idealistically holding out for a “soul mate” so much as someone who cares as much about their soul getting to heaven), and then Don attempted to go on a tirade about women being too picky.

I pointed out that he was older than us and unwed, and then he tried to start using the biological clock argument to put the blame back on us, followed by his own claim that he was never getting married after I told him to mind his own business and stop talking about our ovaries. Apparently he hasn’t found “the one” either, because no woman can appreciate his rich sense of humor, but it doesn’t matter if he’s unwed as much because we’re women, and we’re the ones who have the time limit on finding true love.

The message of the night: If you’re a woman you have to not be so picky about who you are going to marry, because you MUST have kids before that clock runs out! If you’re a man, it’s totally acceptable to be single and brood about it all your life, because no woman really understands you.

 

#biological clock
#sarcasm
#Iknowwho’sNOTmysoulmate
#I don’tknow how to use hashtags

-cdmightwriteasongaboutthis

 

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Filed under Cdukulele's life., Various writing

Poem to Friendship

Is it a mistake to wake and take

a moment to send a message,

a note I wrote,

merely, to tell you

Thank you

and you’re sweet,

and you’re kind,

and God bless?

Because I was thinking about it and every other male “friend” managed to add to my life a pile of stress,

and you just are…and are so nicely.

Quietly listen, listen politely.

Don’t barrage me with words or try to indict me

in an entitled way

measuring all the words I did or didn’t say.

You just are and take me in,

you’re just sweet, truly a friend,

and I appreciate it and you,

I value it, I really do.

So, thank you.

 

Now the message’s sent,

you’ve read it, it’s gone, I don’t repent

because you’re all kindness in words and deed,

you deserved to see it, to know and let it feed

your  goodness, your friendship, and to continue,

in being amazing, in being you.

 

-cd

 

 

 

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ODR: A dramatic journal entry on the subject of loneliness and failed relationships. Plus a short poem!

It seems that the deeper I delve into the relationship sphere, the more painful everything becomes.

But loneliness is too, oh so painful.

Why do I got to want so much, and be happy with so little?

What am I looking for? Happiness?

It seems to have eluded me, like the fly zooming away just before the paper lands.

I’m lost trying to figure out whether I’m the failure, or all men are.

Poor men, all lumped into the one category, because of my inability to interact with them.

It’s not even that.

It’s just, it’s one after another…and the more I hurt, the more I shut down, and the closer they get, the more I give up.

Like, another failure reminds me of every past failure, and then I sink into thinking that I WILL BE ALONE FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE, and all my family will die before me, because I’m the youngest, and I will be miserable.

Oh, I know it’s not true. With my health, and my ginormous number of nieces and nephews, there’s little chance of me being the last one standing. Not that it’s a competition or anything. That’d be quite creepy…

But still, I keep wanting to…actually be in a relationship with someone now, and it keeps…not happening. Which is totally fine, it’s just becoming so burdening, being the friend that will always just be his friend, and slowly falling for him, and him always falling away.

I need a relationship with someone who is actually there.

Not there at some point, not there for a moment, not there when their visa goes through. I want someone who actually wants to be with me. Why can’t I find someone who actually wants to be with me…and who doesn’t do drugs?

Why do they say they’ll be there when they won’t?

Why do they say they love you when they don’t?

Why do they bother to even pretend they care?

Why, oh why, can’t they just be there?

 

 

-DramaticCatherine

…because love problems aren’t just for teenage girls.

 

 

 

 

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Poem: Wading through thorns.

“I appreciate you” I say pointlessly, while my hormones are raging, and I allow them to force me to speak this momentarily overwhelming stupid thought, that is half honesty, out of an attempt to make you communicate something more toward me. Communicate. With me.

Heart pounding and I see you smile and just want to wrap my arms around you, wrap your arms around me, be warm and soft and held tight like you love me.

Cursing these hormones and these thoughts and hopes that are built on short bouts of laughter and glances from your dark, beautiful eyes.

You stare a lot, and I don’t know what you communicate, but you set my heart on fire and it won’t seem to go out.

Glances and smiles with those beautiful eyes and beautiful cheeks and beautiful teeth gleaming white, perfectly set in a smiling mouth.

You are beautiful. You are gorgeous. You are attractive and every physical part of me wants to be closer to you, and I’m at war with myself, mind over matter, because the matter is trying to take over and I’m starting to lose my mind.

I don’t want to lose my mind.

Because mentally, oh beautifully attractive one, mentally I know it is not time. Mentally, oh captivating heartthrob, causer of my heartbeats and blackouts of mind, mentally, I know that this is more overwhelming infatuation than love. This is more biological than rational, this is more instinct than instance, this is more me wanting to be loved than me loving, and I can’t have that.

I can’t have this.

I repel that desire for objectification, no matter the momentary elation of that satiation of desire, I repel that instant gratification, that short term duration of feeling, built on matter fleeting, of feeding that burning fire
that burns without purpose except to excite, that burns with heat but gives no great light, that burns to consume and exhaust and deplete, I reject that sterile and empty feat.
I reject the unwholesome consumption of you, crumbling your beauty not loving you through, I reject that notion that hearts can’t be tamed, that we can go on and on and not be blamed, I reject this notion, this desire to obtain, I reject these thoughts that leave love lame, I reject the dampening of Purity’s gleam, ruining her waters, defiling a stream of love, of goodness, of truth and joy, of happiness and beauty and all we employ when deeply and truly loving each other, I reject the bad and will accept no other love – except a love that is true, a love that loves every aspect of you.

I will fight for the truth and a heart that embraces
you and every single one of your faces,
you when you’re broken and you when you’re down,
you when you’re silent and when you make no sound,
you when you’re shouting and singing for joy,
you when you’re manly, or when you feel like a boy,
you when you need me and you when you don’t,
you when you help me and you when you won’t,
to love you despite, in addition, and because,
to love you for reasons that were, are, and was,
I will fight for a love that embraces all things that make you more holy and through which God brings us closer to him and to each other, deeper in love with him and one another.

I will fight for the Love he provides with no mercy.
I will fight for the Love he provides til I’m worthy
to have you, to hold you, to love you, a man,
I will fight to love you and try til I can.

You are beautiful, sitting across from me, and once that beauty was all I could see, blinded by the gift of sight, couldn’t see the soul surrounded in light. You are beautiful, sitting across from me, and I will try to love that beauty, love and respect and pray for and wait, and melt the lust that’s hiding self-hate. You are beautiful, you reflect perfection, and I will wait until God points me in the right direction. You are beautiful and my heart reaches for you, but it will stay still until I ever say “I do”.

Thank you Lord, for the beauty in the world, and please protect the heart of this awestruck girl.

AMEN.

 

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Vodka Cranberry

My sister walked up to the guy that I said was the cutest in the whole bar, and started talking to him; I was busy hiding at the table in the back of the bar with my cousin and brother-in-law, wanting to know what was happening without actually looking.

I glanced up. She was staring at me mischievously and waving for me to come over. I stared at her and did nothing. She kept waving. I remained seated. Then, she turned back to the guy with gorgeous eyes. Several words later she was looking at me again and attempting to wave me over. I finally came. Trudging, slowly, across the bar, trying to look completely innocent and like I didn’t know who this crazy lady was.

“Catherine, this is Tom! He’s gay and he has a boyfriend in Connecticut….and he sings!”

It figures.

Last time we were at that particular bar, she and my cousin were literally pushing me into a guy from Hawaii and telling him very personal details about me (An event further described here.). This time, my sister was just introducing me to gay men. His eyes were so pretty.

He and I chatted about music for a little bit, my sister made me sing for him, and then he talked about how he played the piano (and I envied his boyfriend just a little bit more…) and used to be in a band. A life of perfect friendship with no fear of rejection because I had already just been rejected, or rather, never thought of in the first place, flashed before my eyes.

But then he and his friends had to leave.

I wonder…If my liking him was considered flattering, or if he preferred not to think about it? I guess when anyone innocently admires you at a bar, it’s generally good, right?
I should probably just not think about it. (Though it is comforting to know that he told my sister about his boyfriend before she pointed out who the girl who thought he was cute was…)

Anyway, I’ve yet again proven that I am attracted to unattainable men. Though, if he and I became friends, I would never have to worry about misinterpreting his intentions. Just a clear, pure, friendship. Where he never sends me creepy texts that have a double meaning and then pretends he was just joking.

Oh life.

I need to be attracted to a single guy with beautiful eyes, who is attracted to me too…in various ways that include loving me as a person and not sending me creepy texts or confusing me or ignoring important things like the fact that I don’t want to hang out with him alone at his house, because I don’t like the potential situation that puts us in.

Yeah.

Well, it was definitely an interesting night, and I am glad that I met Tom.

– Cdukulele

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A magnet for disappointment

I seem to attract the wrong kind of guy.

I seem to be attracted to the wrong kind of guys.

Well, there is that whole thing where, I’m only attracted to guys that don’t openly like me.

That might be where the real problem lies.

Because then I wind up talking to the ones who leave me at concerts, desert me in coffee shops, don’t answer phone calls, cancel at the last minute.

Or I think I’m safe talking to the ones who just want to be friends, but who then slip into more than friendly conversations, apologize for too forward remarks, request to simply spend time with me, but seem to have no idea what they are looking for or what friendship is, and don’t understand why I am not comfortable with certain situations.

It’s easier just to blame myself. I make bad choices. I trust too much. I want to believe them.
If I blame myself then I don’t have to cut them out of my life.

I don’t have to be utterly alone.

I can just be repeatedly disappointed.

I think I need to stand up for myself. I think I need to stop the people trampling all over me and my feelings, but what do I matter really? What does it matter if I let them walk all over me, if I let them string me along, if I am always there for them and they are never there for me, what does it matter if I hurt?

It’s only pain. I’ll get over it.

I just wish…I wish there was one. Just one who didn’t hurt me so much with his thoughtlessness, carelessness. One who thought about me almost as much as I thought about him. One who considered my feelings. One who thought about his actions and their potential repercussions. One who I didn’t have to keep making excuses for.

They say that love is about seeing the other person’s flaws and accepting them anyway, loving them anyway. But it’s not love when the other person is simply hurting you, and isn’t even trying to love back. When they don’t even know what love is, when you try to love, but your being their just encourages them to keep doing the same selfish things over and over again. It isn’t love. I can love them, but not this way. They don’t deserve me talking to them. They don’t deserve me interacting with them. It doesn’t help either of us. I’m an enabler, who’s not strong enough to tell them that they have to change, who lets us both keep getting hurt.

I’m not required to be their friend. I’m not required to be their confidant. I’m not required to be there for them. I’m not responsible for them. I can’t be. I can’t control them. I can’t do these things. I can pray. I can pray like crazy.

But I can’t handle them. I can’t handle the disappointment. Not anymore.

Am I wrong?

Is this what a relationship is? I’m a person of convenience. There when they need me.

No.

They don’t understand me.

Did I give them a chance to?

I don’t want to.

It’s too late, and I hurt, and I just want them to go away.
Because I can’t handle their problems and mine. I can’t handle mine.

I can’t handle them wanting to be with me. To get to know me. I don’t want to get to know them. I don’t want to know what I’ll find out.

I’m “cute”. Thanks. You “enjoy talking” to me. Thanks. You tell me your troubles and I listen. You listen when I explain how you messed up. You don’t understand. You brush it off. I’m flawed. There’s something wrong with me that I didn’t get that joke. There’s something wrong with me that I don’t want to hang out alone with you, I’m insulting you, it hurts your feelings that I feel that way.

Why do I feel that way? Do you think about that?

Do you think about me?

I responded because you asked me if I was okay. I explained myself. You didn’t understand. You don’t understand. Why do I keep giving you chances when you don’t understand. I’m not perfect. I’m not strong. You’re not worth it. I’m sorry. I’m not perfect. You’re not worth the corruption of my soul. Not that it would happen. But slowly. Chip by chip. Defenses down. This is okay, maybe that isn’t wrong, if he doesn’t believe this, why do I? It’s not worth it, because I already know that I don’t want to be like you. I’m sorry. I don’t. We are two different people, and I’m trying to become less selfish and less hurtful, and all interactions with you, make me hurt, make me doubt, make me question, make me distrust…Is it less selfish to keep letting you test me? To keep letting you try to figure me out? I don’t know. But all I seem to do when I talk to you is listen to your pain, and listen to the compliments, and wonder what I am doing, because ultimately I feel confused. And I don’t want to be like you, because it seems that all you are is selfish and hurtful. I don’t want to be that way, but I think that’s what I’d start to become.

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