I’m always dragging that horse around.

I told him once he’d broken my heart. He told me he could sew it back together.

Ooooh, a sexy heart surgeon, I replied, all cheeky and cute.

Three days later, he gracelessly cut it out. Now I guess it can restart.

But I don’t need open-heart surgery anymore. It just leaves nasty scars anyway.

But I really don’t need to keep thinking about him… and his happy, old new beginning.

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To be or not to be…

I think it becomes natural to want them to be yours. Only yours.

I’ve been wondering about this somewhat wonderful young man the last week who evokes a sense of wonder in my son’s eye and does wonderfully wonderful things for me. Wondering whether it would be better for us to keep things the way they are, meaning no official commitment, considering I was just crushed by a weak man who was too spineless to tell me the truth about his feelings.
I like this guy a lot. I have from the first day he walked up my driveway from the laundromat. He’s kind. He’s interesting, and we have similar views about life. But I have been trying to stop myself from liking him.
Nobody’s girlfriend. That was the goal.
I’ve been avoiding the potential happiness he could give due to the real potential of yet another shattered heart. Plus I wanted to spend more time with my son.
But I was thinking today… It’s going on the third month I’ve known the guy and been hanging out with him. If I’m not tired of him yet, I think I like him more than what I want to admit. Not that I don’t want to like the guy, I just made a promise I wouldn’t date anyone. But when you want to spend each minute of your free time with a person possible, I think it becomes natural to want them to be yours. Only yours.
heart
I haven’t talked with anyone else since I met him. I haven’t dated anyone. All I want to do is spend my time with him! Why am I fighting this so hard? Just because I said I would? Or am I really that scared?
Well a certain non-boyfriend of mine has invited me to accompany him on a secret date (if it must be labeled as such) tomorrow, and I couldn’t help but smile.



Not only because it’s a date, but because I love secrets (except the “oh I reconciled with my ex-wife and didn’t tell you” secrets).
I haven’t quite decided whether I’m ready to say, “make me your one and only” (and it would be horribly conceited to assume he would just say yes), but I am ready to say fuck it. I like you a whole lot, and I hope you feel the same. Forget all this faux soul-searching: If you like ’em, you like ’em. And I like this one a lot.

Bill Murray: Ghost of Thanksgiving Past

A friend of mine said I shouldn’t be doing laundry on Thanksgiving, but he didn’t see the pile of clothes in my garage.
I should have listened.
I groggily pulled countless pairs of black slacks and T-shirts from the dryer to make room for a not-so-fresh mound to be washed when I noticed something that didn’t belong.
There was a T-shirt with an American Apparel tag, indicating it was likely some sort of hipster, cool shirt, but it was too big for me. I thought maybe my mom had been shopping a bought something new, which made me more eager to find out what it was.
When I unfurled the shirt, I found myself face-to-face with Bill Murray. I gasped. That’s not hyperbole. I literally gasped. Kinda loudly, actually.
I realized it had been far too long since I’d done any laundry.
Yes, on the shirt Bill’s face is somewhat ghostly. It’s a white, shadow outline of Murray wearing a collared shirt on a black background. He stares pensively into the souls of those who gaze upon it, like a G.

Like a G


Bill Murray isn’t scary, right?
Right. Even as a zombie.
But this was Chris’ prized, limited edition print, Bill fucking Murray T-shirt. He wore this shirt everyday during his pre-mobilization training in Oklahoma, as I could see from the morning picture I received daily. He posted on Facebook the day it came in the mail that it was the happiest day of his life since the birth of his daughter.
Back when we were happy, I joked with him that if he died I would at least be happy to finally have a limited-edition Bill Murray shirt, to which he replied “Actually, I’m going to be buried in that shirt. You can have my old chucks.”
You get the idea. He was really crazy about Bill Murray, and the shirt.
Chris had mentioned that while he was away in Afghanistan, I could take his precious shirt and wear it at night to think of him. He might have left it on purpose, but I didn’t even know I had it.
He would likely want this back.
So, how to approach the ex? But not just any ex. The ex you loved so perfectly, unconditionally. The ex that crushed you. Contorted your insides to an angry mess. The one who wants to never see you again. The one you’ve written about for the whole world to see on the Internetz.
If Chris was already gone, I might not have even told him I had it. But he has one more weekend of leave before his actual deployment. He might want to bestow the burial shroud to another, even though we both know that nobody else will fully understand the meaning of this piece of cloth.
I sent a photo with the message, “I just pulled this from the dryer. Do you want me to leave it at your sister’s for ya?”
“Sure. If ya want. Happy turkey day.”
I paused, asking myself if a joke would be received well. Oh what the heck; The thing we always shared more than anything was good jokes.
“Naw, I think I’ll keep it, but I’ll be really thankful for it. Have a good one.”
“That’s cool.”
Seriously?
It’s cool? (See above commentary)
“No. I wouldn’t do that. I just didn’t know if you wanted me to send it somewhere or leave it at your sister’s. I’ll just mail it to you at her house.”
Even the jokes are dead.
So the question, “What do I do with this shirt?” still needs to be answered.
Another friend of mine told me “fuck a T-shirt,” and proceeded to explain how I could re-create a scene from the movie where a woman cleans her toilet with the ex’s favorite shirt. He doesn’t deserve to have it back, was the general mentality I encountered.
Dudes across the globe would likely peg the effort to return the shirt as some desperate last-ditch effort to see the ex, but I don’t think I could look him in the face again.
Was I being too nice, even considering giving it back?
Like our founding fathers, in ‘Merica, we value our property. Much of our early criminal code was created with the idea of protecting property. Too bad some of those laws also protected the rights to own people, or 3/5 of a person. But essentially, people will tolerate a lot of transgressions, but when you mess with their stuff or their children, eyebrows quickly furrow.
I’ve never believed that any woman (or man) has the right to keep an ex’s property without consent. You broke up (sad face), but neither party should also lose everything (sadder face). Not saying a Bill Murray T-shirt is Chris’ everything… but (see above commentary).
When I got divorced, I actually faced a completely opposite problem than most other women. I was left with everything. Literally. All the ex-husband took was a grandfather clock bestowed upon him by his parents, his clothes, an XBox, one of multiple cats (yeah, relocating animals is probably harder than working out child custody) and the entire collection of Predator DVDs. I was actually kindof pissed he took the DVDs.
But we had a two-bedroom apartment, fully furnished. And we were in the process of being evicted when he ran off. I had less than six days to get out of Dodge and nowhere to take all this stuff.
My parents and a good friend helped me pack it all up and condense it down to a cube of random boxes and end tables in mom and dad’s garage. Our divorce decree stated both parties inherited all the property he or she had in their possession at the time. I didn’t take it all in the cover of darkness; I wound up with it all as a hassle.
As the months went by, the ex-husband came to his senses (actually he was asking to come back after 10 days). He asked if I would return his grandmother’s keepsakes and some of her furniture, so I did. Some of the items we both wanted, we divided civilly. My father helped me return two trailer loads of furniture, which he now has at his new house.
Not all ex-wives or ex-girlfriends want to stick it to you by taking your tools, games or cars. The really bad ones just write about you on their blog.
The shirt is still hanging in my garage, as of this morning, but I’m planning to drop it off on this sister’s porch today or tomorrow. Instead of taking everything under cover of darkness, I suppose I’ll drop it off under cover of darkness.
Maybe I am too nice. But I like to think of it as invoking the Golden Rule; I know I would appreciate someone recognizing an object’s importance and returning it to me, no matter how much I maybe didn’t deserve it.
Plus I already said it wasn’t my size.
It was just a strange discovery that brought some strange questions to my mind. I realized things with Chris and I will never be what they were. Ever. No more jokes. No more “Happy Thanksgivings.” No more anything. Just ghosts of a past life that becomes more and more distorted the longer I look at it.
What really, really sucks is that I can never look at Bill Murray again without thinking of Chris. I just watched The Darjeeling Limited last night, and my theory was confirmed. Thanks Wes Anderson for making fantastic movies that will forever haunt me, considering the fact Bill fucking Murray’s face is in them all…staring back into the souls of viewers like a G.

Cell phone: wonderful tool or torture device?

I’m notoriously bad at not deleting my old text messages and photos from my phone. Then I get frustrated when I try to take a picture and am cock-blocked by a “Not enough memory” prompt. On top of that, I find old messages from him on there. Yesterday was the first time I felt something reminiscent of missing him, so this was just unnecessarily brutal:

I have not stopped loving you, you’re the most amazing woman I ever had the pleasure of spending my time with. The decision I made was a horrible one and I will never let my thinking process outweigh my heart ever again. We have shared so many good times together and I can’t wait to create even more together–Oct. 13

The problem isn’t that my phone doesn’t have enough memory. The problem is that I have too many memories to part with. Clean swipe? or hang on to a few?

I’d rather shit in my hands and clap….

Hey that guy, that Chris Futchs or Fuchks guy, I don’t know how you say it, but who’s the chick in his Facebook profile pic?

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My brother rarely presses me for details about my love life as I’ve basically just dated a string of assholes who have either cheated on me, lied to me or were quite simply douchebags, and hed just rather not hate any more dudes. But last night he asked this question.
“is that his sister or something?”
“no, probably his ex wife. I don’t know because he blocked me from viewing his account and she did a long time ago. That’s what happened, though, he broke up with me to get back with her”
“that sucks. It’s just weird seeing his comments on your status and stuff with a chick on his profile pic that’s not you.”

I was a bit taken aback by this question. Not because I had to explain I was dumped by being deleted from Facebook; not because I saw the disappointment in his face when he saw I’d been hurt again by another asshole guy (maybe they’re just all assholes to him) but because I felt myself growing angry. The whole time Chris and I were together, we never, ever had profile pics as a couple on Facebook. And just days after he left me hang in, his photos of  Hitler, Bill Murray or Skrillex cage had been replaced with a couples shot. Why was I so pissed?

Chris never used his Facebook page except to share jokes and cute pictures of his child. In fact, here’s a funny ecard he posted on his very own Facebook page within the last few months (hilarious isn’t it?)

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Ahhh the foreshadowing.

But I was really pissed. Much more than I should have been. It’s just Facebook.

But it isn’t “just Facebook” anymore. Everyone knows that damn site has changed everything about how we interact with everyone! It’s essentially one giant high school cafeteria where everyone is talking loud enough for everyone else to hear or holding up their binders with funny cartoons they drew last period. So why wouldn’t dating and boyfriend girlfriend stuff be included?

Other people have blogged about this, so I’m not going to just rehash how Facebook has changed it all. I just couldn’t believe he changed his pic to a couple shot already?!!?

I was jealous, honestly. The only pictures of myself and Chris on Facebook were ones we took during an amazing weekend at Six Flags several months ago. None were together though. That was one of my pre-deployment regrets– not taking more photos together.

But we took some really great ones the weekend before Halloween, days before he decided to reconcile with his ex. Actually one or two were quite beautiful and candid. The night before I drove him back to his training site (literally a matter of hours before he flaked) we did the cheesy, smooching, hearts over the head photos on his new computer. Normally I’m not into this stuff, which is why it’s not on my Facebook page. But I was looking forward to those photos being emailed to me. They were going to be posted on this blog.

Why was the sudden surfacing of her face again on his Facebook such a big deal?

I suppose since Facebook is the giant cafeteria, Chris is basically screaming to everyone “look at me and my old wife! We’re together again!!” A girl can’t help but wonder why he never did that when we were together…

Yeah, there was the big “relationship status” request the first go around, which is such a freaking big deal these days, I love it. And we were both smart enough to avoid the “in a relationship” to “single” debacle the first go around. But NEVER any relationship exhibition like this. After we decided to give it another try a month or so before the second world war, there was some social media courting (which is what I call posting on each others’ pages) between us, but that was it. Even after we got snap-happy with the camera, he never wanted to share any of it. I was never acknowledged in the social media realm, which he has now proven actually matters to him.

Every woman secretly wants a man to stand in a crowded room and scream that he loves her to everyone. if you have a girlfriend, (boyfriend) wife, fiancee, dudes out there, change your profile picture right now to a shot of the two of you together. Seriously. Such a trivial thing will really make for a big smile on her (or his) face. Then, if things don’t work out, that person will never have to wonder why you never did.

Even if it’s for a day. Do it. If you don’t have any photos, take one. You’ll regret it later.

I guess it isn’t the fact that there were never any photos of him and I together that upsets me. Some people just aren’t into that type of exhibition. I’m more upset that Chris’ behavior has changed so dramatically in such a short period of time. I’m starting to realize the more I learn about this man through the way he has left me that he probably never had any other intention than to use me for whatever he could get. And I gave it all to him. But I did so in private, the way he wanted things, so when I disappeared again nobody would ever know… I don’t know what’s worse. A super-public break-up on Facebook, or being treated like you never existed.

And, on a lighter note, he obviously wouldn’t rather shit in his hands and clap.

**Disclaimer: I cannot see Chris’ profile on Facebook, therefore I do not know for sure whether my assertions in this blog are correct. It is entirely possible that “woman in the pic” could very well be a sister, which would make this entire blog 10 times more ridiculous.**

Exorcism anyone?

It’s like he died with the suddenness of it all. It’s been less painful, almost, that way. To know someone gave absolutely no thought to how their actions would crush you makes it a little easier to simply not give them any of your thoughts at all (other than the ones related to crushing them, maybe literally). But the last two days have been different. He’s floating around in the back of my heart. I don’t want him back, but it fills me with incredible sadness. His ghost reminds me of how happy I was. But its still a ghost of a man who drove me to madness trying to decipher his thoughts and desires, tiptoeing around conversational landmines, and using an order for war as an open ticket to behave as a morally inferior human and to take advantage of a good woman’s love. Scary.

The letter he sent to her

dearest ex wife,

the last couple of days have been a whirlwind of emotions that I have not felt in a very long time. I was very surprised when you sent that text and was a little speechless, which as you know doesn’t happen very much! I still don’t know what caused you to re-visit those feelings but I’m very glad you did. I cant say that I ever stopped caring for you, but I knew that you had moved on and just accepted that. The little time that we did get to spend together was awesome and hanging with joss and blakely was just the cherry on the top. I know that we have definitely have had are differences in the past and that I wasn’t always the easiest person to live with. I would like to think that I have changed somewhat over the last couple of years. i think we both know that communication was probably are biggest issue, but I don’t think it will be much of a problem anymore, with how easy it was to talk the last couple of days. I look forward to talking to you on the phone everyday even if its about nothing and everything at the same time. I don’t foresee us doing much of anything here for the next couple of days until we move to ft. hood. so feel free to text all you want!! I love any and all pictures that you want to send. I look forward to our relationship developing over the next year and cannot wait for this stupid deployment to be over with. I hope you get some sleep tonight and that the girls cooperate for you.

have a good night,
chris