A wise man who wrestled with the darkness taught me that it’s never about making bad people good, it’s about helping sick people get well.
It’s easier to be angry at the sick person than be angry with yourself for how your choices helped create the situation.
Never before had the ritual involved guilt.
The actual engagement decision happened later at a bar downtown, but I wasn’t so drunk and begged him to keep it hush-hush. I didn’t want anyone to know.
And for someone with trust issues, having another person in my space coming at me with a gun and a needle probably doesn’t sound like a good time.
I could smell it on their breath when they came in the living room. I felt like the wife of a drinker checking his breath when he hits the door. Of course, Joey tried to give me kisses, which I declined.
Because I thought I was hard to love, I chose men who validated that. I mastered the skill of crying myself to sleep without disturbing the person on the other side of the bed.
He was kind and complex, messy and hilarious, and struggled with addiction and health issues. But holy shit, did he have a sense of humor and a genuine ability to connect with people. He was so completely all in when it came to living.
It wasn’t about what I might lose; it was about the hope for her to continue the life we’d started.
But when you break it down to the bare facts, the only view that matters is the one you have of yourself. Mine ebbs and flows--some days it's like Gangsta Party is playing when I walk in a room...
And even though I cried as I watched him die, I wasn't sad for the death of Han Solo. I was sad for the little girl who believed in it all. And then angry for the woman who spent her life chasing Hans.
A hunk of Colby-Jack finally pushed me to do something about it. Maybe cheese really is some type of mythical wonderment, with near bacon-like powers. Or maybe I was finally ready.
I realized I will never apologize to anyone for annoying them with my joy.
I know man friends around the world die a little, whether from concern or annoyance, when our tears start, but I couldn’t help it. I felt so betrayed. I felt ashamed for losing something so important.
You know that laugh. That stupid, jockish, 1950s, I don't have to read books because I work for my dad laugh.
We finished our five miler as the giant snow boner pounded our city…
"It’s a little amazing what some people let knot up their panties. My use of bitch is at times playful, at times serious, and most of the time, literal. Words only have the power you give them and the offensiveness of a word lies more in the tone that the speaker uses.