Failure to obtain happiness

Under no circumstance do you ever admit failure. Failure not to obtain happiness but to feel happiness in your heart. The desire for happiness is there but you cannot feel it. The only you ever felt it was when you were in love with the man in question. Then you had to stop.

There is a PROFOUND SADNESS inside of me. When I realized that I would never be loved back the way I wanted to be loved back, I realized that I had failed. That gapping hole could not be patched. I knew because I was only in love once with another man like this in my early 20s, then when I shut him down I shut him down permanently and never looked back again. For years I could not feel much, every piece of emotion was just some random dots and you felt obligated to feel more but you couldn't.

When I saw him and started to talk to him, even just in a matter of hours I knew that we were linked somehow. He had thousands of photos of me, and he wanted more. He liked to collect photos. He liked to think we are from another decade, we met when we were kids. We reconnected when we were adults. We knew each other so intimately so perversely and we loved one another yet we were not together most of the time.

He's tired most of the time. Exhausted, with his children with his wok and sometimes with his friends. He wanted me to give him one thing and one thing only, sexual satisfaction. And now that I was more relaxed around him and demanded nothing in return, he was treating me like I was his confidant. He told me things. How he was annoyed by his mother, stressed out about her, how he was coparenting with his partner, that he respected her and there was a relationship, albeit not a romantic one. He liked to compare his relationship with her, the children's mother like my relationship with my husband. We both have a set of obligations. We both need to fulfill them.

He talked about his work, sometimes more dire than others, feast or famine. He talked about his business and how he was a majority shareholder of his company, essentially all of it was his. He worked hard, every morning waking up at 5 to work. And then when he was not working, he took his son to soccer, played with his younger man and signed up for different races with his older kid, who liked to run. He knew that I ran long distances, ultramarathons. He liked that about me.

We then talked about work. About what I did and things he did not know. I told him that I needed to hire a vendor to build training modules but I couldn't afford him. Our work world converged. He was interested in learning about HIPAA compliance. I told him what that was as he thrusted himself into me.

He liked to think about unusual things. He liked things that were unusual. He wished that he could fuck me when I was pregnant. I could no longer carry children. He liked me chubbier. He told me how beautiful I looked to him. When he fucked me he wanted to crush me. Like his entire weight was on me. He wanted to fill me with him. Like we were one.

He said that he had not heard from me. I told him that I had not heard from him either. Previously he'd go through a week without writing back to me. But now if he did not write back to me, I often stop writing back to him. A taste of his own medicine. I move on as if he did not exist. But I know that our body and soul were linked and he knew that I was waiting. So he would write and see if I could see him. I knew more about him. I knew that he felt bad that he was fucking others when he was on the road. He knew that it made me sad and thus it made him feel sad.

I did not tell him about my life, for it was not important in this context.

I often pondered if my chance to happiness is left and gone. My ideal life would have been with him. I knew how much I loved him. I knew how much I craved him. I knew this world would have made more sense if he and I were parents to two children, a boy and a girl. I knew he'd love them and gave them what he thought was to be the best for them. I knew that they would be beautiful.

But in this life, we have nothing. We each have our own children. We each were trapped in our own creation. We each loved each other. We each could not be together. I would never meet his friends. He would never meet mine. We only have each other. The secret would go to graves with us. And I was denied of happiness, and that's how my life shall be. I must go on. And pretend everything is okay. Find contentment and joy. Find other ways to live my life so that I could stop feeling sorry for myself. 

Profound Sadness

He arrived home. Tired. From flying. US Air. He said. With a transit from Charlotte. It was not an easy flight. He was up since midnight to get home by 11 am. He slept for two hours and woke up. She arrived just before 4:30 PM.

He had not changed. He would be fifty in 4 months. He was tired. He was the same with the exception of having just cut his hair. He used to be beautiful, she knew that. He's still beautiful. To her. he said he used to be better looking, always getting laid, always looking to get laid, but now he was older and was unable to spare time to think about getting laid. And people stopped paying attention to him anyway, he's just some other dude, some older dude.

She looked at him in that light. His eyes were squinting. He looked tired. He always seemed tired.

They spent a lot of time lying around, being tired. Sleeping. That's their M.O.

He was tired and unable to make decisions. So after sex they went to grab dinner. He wanted somewhere proper and quiet. He was interested in seeing what the Italian place offered but ended up with Sushi. She was more hungry than he. As of late, she had put on some weight, he had liked that about her. The heavier set of her. She wanted to lose more weight but that was difficult to accomplish. She tried to stay in shape and not worry about her weight gain.

He was talkative, and had a few things to say, both in and out of bed. She was more relaxed so that made him more relaxed.

He used to be so anxious around her. He's anxious about everything.  He said that's how he masked depression. She did not want him to be anxious about their relationship. She knew now how to manage. He reached over the table to say how much he liked that.

He walked her to the car after the meal. He kissed her and said goodbye to her. She said, after he was already heading to his door, "I love you." Loud.  She wanted to do something for his birthday. She wanted to go away. She wanted to travel with him to places.

She loved him and she needed him to be in her life, so that she could be replenished.

All her profound sadness, gone, when she's with him. When she's away from him, she sensed her sadness coming in. That loss, that permanent loss. How could you tell someone that you loved that person so much so that each separation created a scar in her unhealed wound? How could you tell that person that in her world he was the only one who's ever mattered to her and she loved him more than he'd ever know? How could you tell him that your profound sadness came from that girl who fell in love with him, so many decades ago and now back again, so many years later, she could never move on until he's no longer in her life?

She loved him. She's sad without him. She's profoundly sad when he's gone. And she had to find a way to move on. 

Wanting to feel loved again

When she laid on the floor finishing up her last fifteen minutes of yoga, she went to those places and she cried. When the lights were turned back on, she found her tears streaming down.

She's depressed and sad. Nothing to do about that. She was sad and depressed because for four years now he would not go away. The man who started all.

That man who was not her boyfriend but pretended to be for a long time, disappeared and reentered into her life like he belonged there. She did not know what to say so she did not say anything at all.

The man who she adored. The man who traded messages with her every day, the man who said "Good night Ms. V" every night to her on message. The man she began to care for. Lived alone all his life. And wanted her in.

He trimmed his beard. He now had shorter beard, a goatee. She liked it. He looked good. He grew his beard for her, for three months he did not shave. But he trimmed it now. He did not want to feel so uncomfortable any more.

He asked if she was interested in meeting his friends. She did not answer.

He wanted to know what they had was, and where they were headed. She offered no response.

She told him that she believed that she deserved no happiness, from a man, and no one would ever love her in a way she wanted to be loved back. When she said that she cried. She was heart broken for so long, no real relationship could make any sense to her any more.

She did not know what she had with this man, she only knew he made her happy. He was the first man who came along in her life who wanted to hold her to sleep. Who cared about her and who took care of her.

She made dinner for him. She went out with him. She planned a get away with him.

She really wanted to move on.

Even though her heart is so broken that it's beyond repair. She wanted to feel loved again.

But she feels like a fraud. "No one would love me. I don't deserve to be loved. I will never love or be loved again." She told this man. This man who was holding her to sleep every night.

In that child pose she lay, he hugged her all night. 

Nothing at all

When she arrive he was in a tense mode. She could tell because she had trouble finding parking and she had threatened to leave. So he finally came down and helped her. Sure enough a perfect spot opened up not far from his apartment.

She dropped her bag off and kicked off her heels.

In his office he made her go on all fours. Lifting her dress he started to fuck her as she arched her back. He was eager to do that. Before she was allowed to complain further he had fucked her so deep that she was about to come. So she did. And he was all of sudden limp as well.

When it was over, he kissed her and held her tight. That's how you greet your lovers after you'd be apart for a week.

They had a healthy sex life. She liked him and she liked being with him. He was an easy man to please and he was not a man with a lot of words. Still she enjoyed talking as long as he'd listen.

At 10:45 he went to bed with her. His bed was big and comfortable and she fell asleep.

When they woke up he said, I watched you sleeping. Deep sound sleep. Heavy breathing. He apparently watched her sleep. He must love her. She thought. But she did not say a word.

In the morning she put her body on top of his until he was hard. And she rode him for a long time.

When it was all over, he said, "My cousin's husband slipped on ice and died. He was only 59. Getting divorced. He became paraplegic, they asked her what he wanted and he chose to end his life."

She said, "He had nothing to look forward to."

He said, "Yes, maybe. If this happened to me. I'd die too."

She touched his head, and his beard. She did not know what to say to that so she said nothing.

She did not want him to go like that. She wanted to tell him that she was worth living for.

But she said nothing at all. He kissed her.

Once he told her a midwesterner joke. "Once a farmer loved his wife so much so, that he almost said 'I love you' to her."

That was his sense of humor. They rarely spoke about their emotions. They rarely do anything about that. They were so afraid of expressing themselves.

But when asked if he had missed her, he said, "yes." And he was silent for a long time. She turned around to ask him to kiss her. She then said, "I missed you" three times. He counted and then he said, "You must really do. Because you said it three times."

He took her walking in his neighborhood. They checked out the houses and the trees. They stopped by a house with red lights and an expensive looking red walled library.

She wants to tell him that she started to love him. But she was not sure what would left if she did that.

She was afraid of that. So she said nothing at all.

No longer hopeful

I fell in love once before this time. I recall the day I fell out of love. He looked quite a bit like B. He was 8 years older than me. I was 22 and he was 30. He was born in September.

I had never loved anyone like I did him. When he betrayed me, I was upset but I couldn't possibly just stop loving him. So I took my time. I let it sit. I continued like nothing had happened. I even talked about my issues with him. It seemed that we were getting closer and growing closer. I even went with him on a nice holiday to Jamaica. He proposed. I did not say no.

I loved him like we could restart after his betrayal. I loved him like there was no other way. But when I was apart from him, I grieved and cried and I sought others for distraction. Eventually, I stopped crying. I stopped feeling sad about it all. I stopped wanting to be with him. And one day the hurt stopped. I cauterized the wound. And when I was finally read, I told him. I remembered telling him that it was time to move on, and he thought we'd be together forever. He told me that he loved me and no other. I told him that it's time.

It always takes me a lot longer to get over someone.

I had cried and cried. I had felt sorry for myself. I thought I could be taken back. I thought there was no other way.

And one day I woke up I stopped grieving and starting to live.

I feel now that's the eventual outcome between B and me. I can feel it. He' the only adult love I have ever felt. I began to believe that I could never find someone to love me back. I began to believe B would never love me back the way I deserve to be loved. Then I started to believe B was using me. I stopped having hope. I cried over the loss of hope. I no longer see a future with B. I could no longer imagine being with B. He had hurt me so much so, that now it's all just inertia at work.

I told B that I no longer believe that person who could love me the way I want to be loved back existed. I stopped believing in him. I have lost faith in him and me. I no longer believed that he could give me what I wanted. I lost innocence once again. When all hope is gone, the only thing I could feel is calmness. It really is anti climatic. I had carried so much sorrow, so much sadness when the first love and I broke up. For years I could never recover. I was finally at a place where I could feel again. B brought all of that back and then just like the first man he destroyed it all. Now I have no hope no more additional sadness. Grieving is a lengthy process.

We must go on. At some point. That girl who loved once and then twice has died. What's left is a rational, highly productive person who's life is no longer complicated or filled with dream. It's all just reality show. No one needs to know, all of the sadness, one day it'll be all gone too.

There used to be such a woman

He came over. Unexpectedly. She wrote him off. Finally she wrote him off. Like he did not exist. But he did, and she knew it too.

She had wanted to tell him this:

"I loved you. With all my heart. I thought I wanted a future with you. I thought if I just tried hard enough, I'd win you over. Like you'd be mine, completely. We'd have a future. But I've tried three plus years, I have tried, over and over again, but I failed. I have never loved another man like I have you; I have never tried as hard as I have you, yet here we are. All broken. I'm broken. I cannot be put back again. My heart is permanently broken. If I had felt any sense of weakness in wanting to still be with you, I remind myself how betrayed I felt when I learned that the week I wanted to go to you, to spend it with you, and to celebrate your birthday with you in another town, you instead shacked up some other woman you don't even care, and had sex with her over and over again. After I've sent a bouquet of fruits and chocolate, delivered to your work. After you've sent me video of you opening it and be delighted by it, yet, you fucked another woman. All week. You told me that. After, many months after. You hid the fact you had another child, I get all that. I understand why you did not tell me now. I asked you if you'd be willing to introduce me to your child's mother. You told me that she'd be devastated. What about me? Do you think I have no feelings? Do you ever consider that I might be devastated too? Do you even care at all about me? Do you think you could just betray me over and over again and expect me to take you back and love you unconditionally? Everyone's got a limit. I have reached mine. That's why I fell back. I had nothing, no hope, no expectation of you. I always love you. You are my first true love. I love you like you are my own skin and bones. I love you and I'd do anything for you. But I cannot suffer any more. So I severed the emotional me from the rational me. I had to let go of all my hopes. There is nothing left but the day to day, the occasionally booty call, the occasionally passion, the little bit of staying together, naked, in bed, and pretend everything is a-okay. I've given it some thoughts, I've concluded I don't deserve to be loved the way I need to be loved. I don't deserve it. There is no one out there for me. I don't want you like I used to want you either. I want nothing from you. I will focus on things that I can control. Things I can improve on my own. There is no beginning. And there is no end. I'm fine with it now. I'd like to stay that way."

But she gave him a different version of it. A much lighter version.

He hugged her, naked, in bed, he said, "I love you. I love you. I adore you. I will never get enough of your body. I will always want to fuck you. Even when you are old. I love your body. Your scent. You have a scent. Around your neck. It's sweet. I like it. That's how your pussy tastes. I like that too."

She does not understand why that is. She has been told that she had a scent. He liked hers. He misses hers. She missed the way he smelled too. She knew, deep down, this is the only man who would transform the way she smelled. He was a good that way. He brought the best part of her out, and he brought the worst part of her out as well.

He wished that they were never apart. When they were younger, they dated, but then they drifted apart until 15 years later. She told him, "I know why. You told me that you'd see me in two days, but you never called me. I was young. I had options. So I wrote you off." He said, "It was because something came up." She said, "No. I was warned of you. You were a player. I didn't want my heart to be broken. So I never followed up with you. I just decided it was time to move on."

They lay there afterwards. All spent and satisfied. He then had to get up to leave. She asked what he was doing this weekend. He said that just work. Kids stuff.

She was leaving for work the next day. She wished that he could come. He then leaves the following week. For the same state.

She did not to ask him when they'd see each other again. She knew better to have any hopes at all. She knew also time has come to pull back like she once did in her twenties. Except this time is harder. But at the same time, she understands herself more to know she's much more deliberate this time.

For she fell in love with man and he was her first love. But first love is just that. It's the first but very rarely the last. She knew that as well.  

Good night sleep

When she saw him, he said, softly, "I'm tired, I've not been sleeping."

She looked at him, naturally, leaning her petite frame against his, "But why?"

He said, "I don't know. It's been a couple of days. I think I'm coming down with something."

He looked concerned.

He would not kiss her. For he was worried about getting her sick.

She just wanted to be held.

So he held her.

"Can we order in tonight?" He asked.

"Sure." She did not care to walk that evening. She was surprisingly, tired as well. She did not tell him that she's not been sleeping well either.

He asked her to search for a restaurant using her app. She had a few. But she could not decide. So he called their favorite Thai place. They delivered.

She thought to herself. This reminded me of my ex husband and me. Living in New York. Even this apartment looked like her apartment in Midtown. Big bay windows, which she liked, two large bedrooms. Large living room, a small dining area, and a useful galley kitchen. Nothing special, but surprisingly functional. Hardwood floors. Of course hardwood floors.

He made her wearing slippers. Red ones. He bought for her. She did not like them. But then she learned that he did not like the way she walked, or rather, stumped. He was a quiet man. He prefer her to be quiet, light weight, tiptoed and never wear shoes inside. He did not like it when she screamed as she orgasmed either. She was surprisingly easy to come when she was with him.

She talked non stop when she was with him. He never did talk a lot. Eventually she stopped talking much around him either. He liked to read news. He checked the weather. He surfed the net. He read non fiction books. He was not very talkative. He was a very simple man, she's decided. He liked to grab her ass, that was one thing that was unusual about him. That part did not add up. She'd say, while maintaining largely satisfied with their relationship.

The food came sooner than she had expected. She and he ate, at the dining table, quietly. He and she discussed about the food, the spiciness of their dishes and the quickness of the delivery.

It was less than a mile on foot. They had done that walk many times over.

They brushed teeth and got into bed at 10:30. It was his bed time and it was too early for her. She lied awake while he fell asleep. Holding her hand in one hand and cradle her tummy in another.

In the morning. His alarm went off. He had to move her car by 7:30. Construction was going on and he was worried about her car getting towed. He arrived back and got into bed again. She was half asleep, she said, "I did finally sleep well. Please sleep with me. We need to sleep together more." He agreed. "Yes, I finally got a good night sleep too. I did not want to get up at 7 to move the car." He returned to bed, embracing her. "You must like me. Will you miss me?" She asked in one breath.

He was to leave town to go home for his father's 90th birthday He's the youngest of the eight. "I will miss you." He laughed. Then he said. "I do like you." She was satisfied. As long as he maintained that status, she could handle. Just not love. Love she could not do.

"Did you sleep okay?" He asked of her as she was drifting back to sleep This was the only man who actively took care of her and made her feel she was thought of, and often.

No one else did that for her. She liked that. She also liked how she could not figure out what it was that attracted her to him. It was not his looks though she liked his frame. Tall and very lean. It was her gut instinct. He brought her flowers the first night they went out. He was the only one who took her in and gave her what she needed: attention, adoration, and a good night sleep.

the merrits of sleeping

I find that the most comforting thing in life is certainty. I am certain that I'm not going anywhere. I'm certain he will not leave anyone for me. He is not mine, for instance. I'm certain I like the things they are. I am certain of all that.

And then, I'm certain I have an emotional connection with T. I have a fun interlude with N.

And I have nothing more to ask for but a good night sleep. Which T could provide for me.

And there is not much else beyond that.

Work. Work out. Sex. Sleep

There is no end to a beginning

I've officially sunk into a depression. Call it depression or an awakening, I don't care. but I no longer hold any hope. When you finally let your heart die, it is never a quick death, it's a slow and uneventful death, when you stop hoping, when you realize that there is nothing left for you, but to move on, to try to figure out what it is that you want, then you realize there is not much else out there after all.

Gone were your sexual intrigues, gone were your adventures, gone were your enthusiasms, gone were your faith. You have saturated your life, you yearn nothing, you wish for nothing, gone were the rest of this world. Gone were your ways, gone were your life, gone were the reason you were alive.

I always thought that if and when I stop loving him, I would die and wither, but I did none of that. It just ended. Like if I don't ever see him again, or write to him again, or hear from him again, I'd be okay.

I have done everything I could, and loved him and I got nothing in return. He was no one that I had recognized, and I was no one that I could recognize.

Days become weeks, weeks become months, and eventually months become years.

Life is like this. One moment, I'd do anything for that person, one moment, you could hardly recognize who you were, and who he was.

My sadness is so profound that I could not function in public, but I enjoyed 1:1 interface.

Enter T. T was an interesting person. He's a lot like M in some ways. I found solace in my interaction with T. I like sleeping with him. We do walks. Long walks in Inner Richmond, eating out or just walking. Going to the beach. Ocean beach. He plays music. He has a lot of friends. He introduced me to his friends. They like me. They were happy for him. He was happy to have me. They think I'm good for him and good to him. I even get a key to his apartment. I get to stay over whenever I want. I'm his girlfriend, for all intents and purposes. I cried in his arms, I told him everything, and I am not looking for anything, not even an exclusive relationship.

Enter N. N is like my twin. He's beautiful, and laid back, smart and unassuming. We do so much together that we might as well be married. I spend weekends with him. I talk to him on the phone. He's also tall and thin. He knows I'm not interested in a relationship but we still hang out.

Both men and I are not physically involved. We just simply do things together.

I like that. I like that I can be who I am, and I can keep my space.

The world is not real or hopeful any more. I don't want anything from anyone. I turned off calls from other people. I have no interest in socializing with any others. I like being at home. Alone mostly. I like being left alone.

I hope to never hear from MB again. I would like to simply disappear. Like the old me never existed.

I finally learned why it was so easy for me to move on. I severe my past. I simply act like I don't remember it had ever happened. And when enough distance and time passed, when I could breathe again, I would remember that version of me, filled with hope, and thought love could last forever. Love could conquer all. Love did nothing of that sort. Love simply disappointed and hurt and destroyed that old me.