It's been a hard week. Overlaying the horrible devestation and loss of what I have been referring to as "the Tragedy" on Tuesday, sumperimposed upon the mourning of a nation, is my own personal suffering, so minute by comparison, but so monumental in my world, that I've spent days in sickness. The first day I could not eat or drink water, spent much of the day unconscious, and the rest in cycles of crying, screaming, and blankly staring at nothing. I bought alcohol that I couldn't be bothered to drink. I wanted to wither and die.
The second day was a little better.
This is the dawning of the fourth day.
After all that buildup, all I have to say is that the Cherub dumped me. He flat out dumped me. He is returning to the Snark Queen, fabricator of vicious rumors, torturer of innocent friends, savant of biting the hand that feeds you, expert backstabber, and heralded achiever in the field of children as armor and offensive weaponry.
I mean that only in the most respectful and loving way. Air kisses.
I can only conclude that my primary error was the failure to abuse him. Abuse was the only thing I didn't give him. Maybe if I'd stuck a spiked heel up his ass every now and then, he'd have felt a little more at home.
Tsk. A learning opportunity. Notes for future reference.
Do I sound bitter? Nooooooooooooooo.
Enough of that. Do you know that History is a far more important and compelling factor in human experience than Love? Seriously. Love, despite all our crowing and our crooning, affects the actions of humankind perhaps not one tenth as much as history does. Maybe that's why we have to keep making a fuss over it.
Think about it. The Middle East. Ireland. Rwanda. Serbia. Oh hell I could go on here all day. Name me a few times when something of real significance was done for love. All of this other shit was done out of our sense of history, and whatever our ideas of righteousness or justice are tangled up in that.
I'm looking at my past few years here and see the pattern too. Part of it is my fault in not recruiting fresh innocent little tomatoes to be my life mates. These days, everyone past a certain age (and I am way past it) has baggage, a past, a - ahem - history.
I'm accepting of all that. I have history, other people have history, big whopping deal. Well it is a big deal, when you are the new thing in their life and they are done with you, and now they are ready to lock step with history again.
With my 20/20 hindsight, I see my first husband, the scrupleless fuck who presented me with a forged divorce decree while asking me to marry him. This individual stayed with me a mere two weeks before taking off, ostensibly to a job in Peru but in actuality to his previous, and unbeknownst to me still current, wife.
I turn this magic hindsight to Brooklynguy, who finally confessed that he was not going to leave his wife after all, after countless excuses and time-buying measures ("Just let me finish up this one deal so I have enough money to take care of her properly."). He said that there was just too much history between them, even if she was a soul sucking bitch who tortured him nigh upon suicide every day of his life.
Then we have Rebar, who was actually making the preparations to go when I met him. After an insanely happy month or so, he decided that he couldn't leave. They'd been through too much together. He owed her too much.
Okay, now, sensing a theme, I decide not to see married men anymore, no seriously this time. So I get down here and go head over heels at first sight with this individual that seems heaven on earth to me. And holy cow he tells me he is divorced, and he refers to his former mate as his ex wife. After it's too late, Napalm calls him on this and he confesses the papers aren't signed yet. But he's got a fucking house ok? He bought this quite nice RV that really is a mobile home and has spent the last few months making it utterly his and the paperwork is rolling and he's free and clear. They've already hashed out house, vehicles, custody and child support, etc. etc. She is even urging him to get a girlfriend. What more can you want?
Well, look at us now. He says he has a chance to make right what he fucked up. Anybody who's watched this 8 year drama can tell you that it's the going back that's the fuckup here. So, he's going to go back and try again, and maybe it won't succeed and he'll have lost both of us, but oh well, he's gotta try.
Well, I'd like to know just when the "Make Right What I Fucked Up" train is pulling into my station. Then I can decide whether or not I'm gonna be there to meet it.
So, anyway, back to my point. History is far more important and compelling to us than Love. It's why the Confederacy won't die. It's why Nazis still walk the earth. Love can't overcome anything at all. I invite you to prove me wrong.
