Remember a couple of posts ago, I mentioned that there really isn’t a song I can think of that doesn’t remind me of the years I spent with Love Bomb? I revealed this tidbit of solitary sadness in an email I sent to Love Bomb a couple of weeks ago – I was originally asking for the tent (she got the TV, both kayaks, the furniture, the Chow-Chow cash cow … so spare me the tent, eh?) and got a little carried away. It happens. I threw it out there that I couldn’t listen to Melissa Etheridge, Indigo Girls, Steely Dan, America, Rush, or damn near every song we ever played on Band Hero, without feeling sick to my stomach – memories of road trips and breezy, open-window spring cleaning with the CD changer set to random. At first, these songs instinctively elicit an easy smile, but then reality bubbles over and I’m reminded that the music that used to bring me joy, now only delivers sorrow.
The good news. I got the tent.
Just over a week later, I was approached by a friend who, in a kind and loving way, approached me with a Facebook post she thought I deserved to know about.
Love Bomb got engaged.
There, on her wall, was a long, self-inflated, rather incoherent congratulatory post from Kevin (who’s name I don’t bother to change here). Call it a coincidence or irony, but the engagement gift presented to the happy couple — tickets to a Melissa Etheridge concert. And not just tickets, but VIP backstage passes to the tune of $275, each. In typical Kevin fashion, he made sure that everyone could see exactly how much he spent, because that’s what Mr. Moneybags does. Besides, Love Bomb can be bought, so that works out for both of them.
I hope you spend the whole evening, every fucking song reminded of me, Love Bomb.
The kicker though, the real kick in the ass was Kevin’s explanation of Love Bomb’s existence before New Girl replaced me. “[Love Bomb’s] life was a real Dog Breakfast till you came into it”, he wrote. On her wall. For everyone to see. On an engagement post (weird), not even a year into our demise. Dog Breakfast. Wow.
It’s not lost upon me that the phrase is Aussie slang, and perhaps it had just as much to do with Love Bomb’s history (despite continued tolerance of) with the Master Manipulator, an overprotective mother, or her financial issues (more of an issue now than ever, btw) but I know … I know that it was about me. So revolting, only a dog would approach it.
Nailed with that triple-whammy,
- Engaged
- Melissa Etheridge
- Dog Breakfast
I put on my big girl pants and carried on without a care – these people are gross and not worth it. I melted into a puddle of tears, had to leave work early, and spent the next two days in bed.
A number of friends reached out to me upon seeing the post to ask if I was okay and to apologize for Kevin’s remarks on his behalf. It’s funny how you don’t really realize you’re associating with a bully until they’re bullying you. And it’s funny that Kevin claims to be an anti-bullying advocate despite 9-pages worth of absolutely maniacal text messages at 1:30am, sent from someone else’s phone since I had to block his, but claims that I was the one harassing him… The guy who instructed me to “go fuck yourself” when I admitted I was flirting with suicide last summer. The guy who didn’t get enough attention, so he blocked both Love Bomb and I, but soon found it possible to forgive her, while concluding that that I, I am a Dog’s Breakfast. Perhaps I bruised his tiny feelings when I suggested he could rot in hell, because what kind of asshole (bully) tells someone, anyone, to go fuck themselves upon reaching out at their most vulnerable. I have an actual reason to be hurt and angry. He’s just holding a childish grudge.
It’s taken a solid two weeks to recover from the triple-whammy.
I do feel a bit of solace in the knowledge that Love Bomb and New Girl are coming across as … ridiculous. Matchy-matchy rings 6 months in, engaged on their first anniversary, which falls 5 weeks prior to anniversary of our break-up. This being New Girls’ third engagement/marriage – damn gurl, what’s the rush / why the urgency to exchange meaningless vows (evidence-based on divorce history) with yet another suitor? They’ve jumped into everything so quickly, it makes you say, “that’ll never last” out loud. Maybe that’s true, or maybe it’s not, but believe me when I say that sticking it out in an effort to “prove them wrong” is a waste of everyone’s time. I would know.
I’m not wasting any more time. I am changing and growing every single day. Yes, I am. I didn’t get a choice in the matter. Because it was never up to me.
Love Bomb and New Girl can go about their business of rushing to repeat the same old shit, jumping from one relationship to the next.
Meanwhile, I’ll be over here living my best, most authentic life, not hopping on top the first willing cohort to approach. Likewise, second, third, or forth – I’ve been on several dates recently with some really nice people, but my bar is held high, and I won’t be lowering it just so I don’t have to be alone. I don’t need anyone to make me happy or whole, I’m doing it for myself.
Is it easy? No. Do I slip up now and then? Yep. Am I worth it?
Yes, I am.
In these days and these hours of fury
When the darkness and answers are thin
Lovers come and check out in a hurry
Shallow and hollow again
Come lay your body beside me
To dream to sleep with the lamb
To the question your eyes seem to send
Am I your passion your promise your end
I say I am
Yes I am
Your passion your promise your end
Yes I am
Barring divine intervention
There is nothing between you and I
And if I carelessly forgot to mention
Your body your power can sanctify
Come feed your hunger your thirst
Lay it down the beast will die
You can question my heart once again
Am I your passion your promise your end
I say I am
Yes I am
Your passion your promise your end
Yes I am
I will stand firm in the tempest
I will ride destiny’s trail
To believe when the truth comes up empty
To hold and respect without fail
Come and be one in the motion
A desire they cannot comprehend
Never to question again
For I am your passion your promise your end
Oh yes I am
-Melissa Etheridge
MazieCakes 