This post is different. It’s personal.
Usually, I write in a fantasy tone or story, or just a general description of a passion I am currently feeling within.
Sometimes the muse is some strange woman as I write it, briefly capturing center stage in my mind, all to inspire within me a poetic rambling about gagging and forced orgasms. If only my college professors could see me now.
Sometimes the muse is far closer to home. Sometimes the muse is not a muse at all, but a reciting of what happened moments earlier. Sometimes it’s just a feeling about passion over my reality or the fantasy I seek to reveal.
This post, however. This post is about a girl.
One, I lost though I never really had. I was broken up over it for far longer than I can even remember now. It felt like an eternity though. I hate to say ‘broken up’ though because it is somewhat misleading. I’m not sad anymore or even anything remotely close to that. I’m just different now after I lived through it.
I’d posted nearly 3,000 posts on the TRD Blog before I was even brave enough to relive that memory, but it was at the forefront of my mind so much in the early months of the original TRD Blog. Not even a mere mention of her existence for months on end. Not once…until this Post. I’d written probably a dozen posts on the topic, all sitting in Drafts, never to see the light of day.
At the time I wrote this, I had no intention of actually Posting it. I was just psyching myself up to just see if I’d have the courage to say what I felt. Honestly, it just felt good to write about her. Whether I clicked Post or not was irrelevant. She probably never read it and even if she did, it wouldn’t matter.
You see, I remember a time when my mind was swooning over the idea of the feel of a girl I called my Mona Lisa. It’s been over a year now since I spoke to her. Days didn’t pass without thinking of her when I wrote this. That’s just the reality I lived in. I know that reciprocation of thought didn’t exist with her. I assume she didn’t think about it as I may have her. It’s not a knock on her or an indication of me; she was better prepared at the time to handle the emotions.
You see, this whole Tumblr mindfuck it was new to me. I was so unprepared to mentally handle the situation when it came along. I learned a lot from that experience and how I needed to be realistic about the thing. Was she special or different or exceptional in some way that other women are not? Who knows. Math alone says probably not, to be quite honest, but she was to me. I, on the other hand, am exceptional, however. That part I do know for certain. I’m not boasting; I just know other men are so incomplete that it is sad.
But what was different, was how I was impacted, at that particular time in my life. How it affected me. I went all in with my heart and in hindsight am glad I did, even if it’s a sad story in the end. I’d rather know I gave it the best I could at the time than half-ass it.
But the reality is I could never give what I wanted to give. What she needed. What she deserved. You see, nobody will ever come in front of my obligations, no matter who you are. No matter how I feel about you. I have people looking up to me. I have mouths to feed. And I will never sell them short. You will always come in second place, and when there is a decision to be made, you will always lose. My role as a father will always supersede you. That’s is just the way it is.
She never stood a chance. Over a decade my junior, she was the one wise enough to see this when it happened. So she pulled the plug and I think I must have become a different man after that. A better one, even though the growing pains were tearing at my very foundation during that time.
Doesn’t change the fact that I miss her still. Hearing about her ambition in her career. Her ‘iceberg’. Her worries and strengths. Her life as an ‘excellent conversationalist’. Her love of meal prep. The hurdles she overcame. Her Passion for life. Her strength. Her alpha presence. Her ridiculous worry that as she revealed her past skeletons, that I might change my opinion of her. As if that was even possible. As if I had a choice in the matter to begin with.
Things like this don’t happen every day. If you are lucky, they happen once. I am well aware of that. But neither does fatherhood. And I’ll be damned if I ever half-ass, part-time that role. Ain’t fucking happening. And now I know that the math just couldn’t add up, so I don’t even bother tempting fate anymore. I already know the end result anyway.
As I said, she, or we, never really had a chance.
She will always be my lost five dollar bill. My lost Love in the Time of Cholera.
Note: I wrote this a very long time ago, so I updated for the new Blog. I debated not even posting it but it meant so much at one time in my life when I wrote it, that I just couldn’t see letting this memory die. She meant a lot to me a long time ago so why ignore it? And yes, Miss Tumblr, I am over it now. The words above were of a man in pain. That is no longer the case.
Update: As I migrate my content to WordPress, I look back on even the time I reblogged it. It was somewhat difficult at a time to even think about this experience. In hindsight, that passion served its purpose to develop the man I am today, and I’d never post this in fear of striking any pain in my Orange Sky, however, the comparison between the two is all but laughable. Mona Lisa meant something profound for but a few months, and not to diminish her importance, but what has happened with Orange Sky is thousand times more powerful. She, my Kitten, should know that if I am posting this old memory. It was a good piece I wrote and I am not one to delete my feelings away. Orange Sky – she means something, forever. It is interesting to see how we all change as time passes us by and things looks different when you are no longer living them.