On The Mend: My Journal for a Healing Broken Heart

Prologue

noreply@blogger.com (Vanessa) — Sun, 08 Mar 2009 23:41:00 +0000

I wanted to give thanks to these people who helped me along the way. This list will constantly be updated, for every person I meet that impacts my "process" - no matter how seemingly small - will be added here.

My Mother - You drive me crazy, but I love you. You don't know it, but your strength in your own marraige gives me strength to be independent. You don't realize how much I look up to you. I love you.

Lia - You hate when I hate. You love when I love. You listen to me, you cry with me, you laugh with me. You never judge and always support. You know me best, and you bring me so much happiness. I love you.

Katie - You support me, and you love me. YOU UNDERSTAND ME. You hurt when I hurt; and you hurt for me when I am numb. You feel for me what I cannot feel for myself. You are so loyal to me, and you mean so much to me. You say the wittiest things to make me laugh. You shop with me and holy shit, you make me spend a LOT of money. If it wasn't for you and your love, I wouldn't be who I am today. I love you.

Talin - You are such a loyal friend, and have been by my side since day 1. You get silly drunk with me whenever you can, and you dance with me. You see me for me, and you still love me. You side with me no matter who hurts me, and you help me to heal that hurt. I love you.

Doutt Family - You love me and made me a part of your family regardless. You accept me for me, and you welcome me time and time again. I love you.

Dan - How you let me abuse you, I have no clue. You let me ruin your reputation, whatever it may be, and you still somehow talk to me. You see red when I see red, and you laugh when I see green (which is all the time). You know just how to cheer me up by making me feel bad. I love you.

Rudi - Cocksucker. You'd take a 12 incher in the ass just for me. I love you.

Daniel - You romanced me in London with your eloquent speech and elegant demeanor. You inspired me, and gave me the most memorable conversations I have ever had with anyone. Never have I fallen in love with one's affluent language as I did with yours. You were the first person to go out of your way to show me things in a manner that noone ever has, and I hope to do the same for you when you visit the United States. I love you.

Danny - You came at a time in my life when I needed someone like you most. You are good to me, and you have stuck by me at times when you didn't need to. In a short time, you have helped me to regain faith in where it was lost. I love you.

South Beach, Miami - If it wasn't for all your hot men, I'd be thinking that I would never find another again. I love you.

London, England - My source of inspiration. I have a sick romantic affair with you. My heart is full when I visit, it breaks when I leave. I love you.

Finally, Charlie - You broke my heart. But you helped me find me. You gave me the opportunities in life that I never thought I would have. If it wasn't for you, I would still be floundering in this existence. We are non-romantic soul mates, and we will be connected to the end. You taught me a type of love that I never knew, and now I know what to look for in my next one. You gave me the best gift someone could ever give me, and that's my freedom. Thank you.

Cheers to all of you who have helped me along the way.

Purpose

noreply@blogger.com (Vanessa) — Fri, 06 Mar 2009 04:42:00 +0000

"If you can't decide whether you want me or not, please set me free." I tearfully begged on 22, April 2006. My boyfriend of 7 years and I were at the Rio Grande in Bethesda sharing the Platos Gordos platter. A week later, I got my wish.

Writing about this and reliving the moment now is quite painful for me, but I need to do this to free myself, to release the pain of a breakup that devastated me and turned my world as I knew it then completely upside down. It was up to me to put the pieces of my life back together and rebuild a new world of my own.

8 months later and 8 days into the new year, I have found myself and made myself whole. How did I do this? It was a long and difficult process, and somehow I managed to draw the strength from within. Now, I want to share my experience with everyone who has ever suffered a broken heart.

Cheers to living life as it comes, and to taking it one day at a time.

Moving Out...Moving On

noreply@blogger.com (Vanessa) — Thu, 05 Mar 2009 00:54:00 +0000

It was 10:00am EST. I tearfully untangled myself from Charlie's arms and looked at his sleeping face. I wanted to memorize every feature and every structure of his beauty, for it was going to be the last time I was ever going to see something so familiar ever again. I brushed my lips lightly against his, like a slight breeze that grazes your skin on cool spring day. His eyes fluttered open as he pursed his lips with the intentions of kissing me back. He looked at his watch.

"OH SHIT!" he exclaimed. He shot up out of that bed as if I had yelled from downstairs "ESPN and blow jobs in the living room!" Never had I seen such motivation, but I knew why he was in a hurry. His friends were going to be at my house any minute to help him move out.

Charlie grabbed all the trash bags and boxes he could, and immediately began jamming his belongings into them. I sat on his bed crying so hard, my chest hurt.

"Please don't leave me." I cajoled. "Isn't there a small part of you that doesn't want to leave me?"

"Yes. There is a large part of me that doesn't want to do this. " he lied. "But I have to."

That was the morning of 29, April 2006. He had only told me he was moving out the night before. I knew his behavior over the last week was peculiar, and I ignored all the signs. There were no guys' nights, nor was there poker. Every night was spent with me, and every night there was a sad and forlorn look in his eyes as he gazed upon me and followed my every move. Every night when we went to bed, he clung to me as if he never wanted to let me go. Every time he spoke to me, there was a sadness in his voice that I attributed to our argument only a few days before. Every morning that he kissed me goodbye before he left for work, was like he was kissing me for the last time.

Despair settled upon me as a sheet of moisture would upon the Earth on a foggy night. The first week was the hardest. I didn't talk to him for days. It seems cliché to say that every second felt like a minute, every minute like an hour, every hour like a day. But that was how the first few days were like with him gone. Sleep was my only escape, yet I couldn't sleep enough. I was determined to plod on through what was left of my life. The morning he left, I made the decision that I wasn't going to let someone who could so easily break my heart break me down. So I went out with my friends that night, and I went to work 2 days later.

Why? Why did I feel this way? Why couldn't I just take a few days and mourn the loss of my love of 7 years. Why did I want to put myself back into society alone and embarrassed by the failings of a seemingly solid relationship. We were the power couple, the couple that everyone envied. We looked great together, and on the surface, we were great together. We were both healthy, successful, and lead a life that nobody else we knew could lead. We were the couple that everyone looked up to and wanted to be like. How could I step out my door and admit that our love wasn't as strong as we all had thought?

My motto: Shit Happens. But you have to plod on through it. It's going to be smelly, it's going to be dirty. But if you just grit your teeth and fight your way through, the sooner you'll get through it, and the sooner you can wipe yourself clean. If you stop and despair, it will only take longer. It's up to you to find the strength within yourself to plod on through your shit.

Don't get me wrong, It was difficult. I cried at work. I cried in my car. I cried at home. I cried at the gym. I cried at the mall. There was no place in the Washington D.C. area in which I didn't spend any time without him in the last 7 years. Every nook and cranny of the area had deeply rooted memories of us. I felt trapped and stifled by my memories, and by a life and existence I had known for so long. Yet, I decided I had to face everything head on.

For years, I wanted my own identity. I wanted to be Vanessa. Instead, I was "Charlie and Ness." To be defined by being a part of a couple - even though I was the better half :) - was quite constraining. I have always been an independent entity, and I realized that this was my opportunity to gain back what was lost. Once I achieve that, only then can I fully give myself to someone who wholly deserves me. I recognized that this path was going to be difficult to follow, but once the destination is reached, I will then be truly happy - with no pretenses. Because, at the end, I will find ME.

We can't help what hands we are dealt in life, but we must do what we must to live our lives to the fullest and the best we can. Every event in life only makes you stronger - you just have to let it.

Cheers to plodding through shit and coming out clean.

Meeting in Heaven

noreply@blogger.com (Vanessa) — Wed, 04 Mar 2009 04:50:00 +0000

I was 22 years old when I first met Charlie. It sounds funny to say, but every time someone asks "How did you guys meet?" our answer was "We met in Heaven." You see, there is a club in Adams Morgan (a neighborhood in D.C.) called 'Heaven and Hell.' The upstairs is named Heaven, and downstairs is, of course, Hell. I always thought it to be quite ironic, being that we were so in love and having the ability to say we met in Heaven - and yet, Heaven was a seedy club.

When I first rolled up at the club, I noticed a really hot guy standing in line, wearing all black. He had dark hair and great features. I took a mental snapshot of him , and then made my way into the club. Once inside, my friends and I congregated on the rooftop, drinks in hand. I scanned the area for this handsome stranger, voila, a guy dressed all in black was across the rooftop. I can still remember the moment I laid eyes on him: it was hot inside, and he was coming out for a respite from dancing. His head was tilted down at a 60 degree angle, and he was running his hand through his hair. His side profile was beautiful, but as my eyes traveled up, I realized he had blond hair.

Fuck. That's not the hot guy from outside.

Disappointment washed over me. Oh well, I was sure my hot guy was still around somewhere. As I began to turn back to my friends, he looked up and his eyes met mine. They twinkled impishly as he caught me looking at him. He smiled at me. Wow. He's cute, I thought. I smiled back. Once he realized he had my attention, his confidence grew and his smile broadened. I waggled my fingers at him to say hello, but did not want to show too much interest. I averted my eyes back to my friends, but found myself looking back at him quite often. We played this little ocular game for a while, and he eventually walked to the door and stood there with his hands in his pockets. He smiled that gorgeous smile at me for about 10 seconds as our eyes connected yet again, and then he disappeared inside. That was my cue to follow him and continue the flirty dance between us. Since then, we fell deeply in love for years to come.

Charlie was the first real mature love of my life, but he will not be the last. I will someday meet my last….when I am ready.

Cheers, to the many loves I will encounter on the way.

The First Encounter

noreply@blogger.com (Vanessa) — Mon, 02 Mar 2009 05:01:00 +0000

Whoever coined the phrase 'silence is golden' should have been removed from existence. The silence that proliferated my home was unbearable for the first few days. Gone were the sounds of ESPN emanating from the television after Charlie would get home from work. Gone was his snoring while he slept, which helped put me to sleep. Gone was the laughter that reverberated throughout the house for years. Lingering, was the silence of an empty home. Golden? I think not.

Charlie and I did not talk for 4 days after he moved out of my house. He needed his space, and I needed to start the process of being accustomed to not talking to him anymore. The longer I put it off, the harder it would be for me in the future. I might as well get the hard part over with now. I refused to contact him in any way; anytime I wanted to call him, I would call my friends. I would draft up emails to him telling him how much I miss him, only to delete them after they were finished. I would start to text him to let him know how much I loved him, only to close my phone before the message could be sent. Sadness dominated my days and urged me to falter, but my willpower was great. Shit, I had a much easier time quitting smoking.

On the 4th day, he called. My heavy heart lightened from hearing his voice. He was selling his Jeep, which was sitting inside my garage, could he come over that evening to show it to a couple who was interested in it? I said yes. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach as I debated on whether I should be at the house when he did this or should I leave. The biggest question, of course, was whether I was able to see him yet? Fuck it, I decided, I'd rather go through a few days of pain just to have 1 pleasurable hour with him. He has already hurt me, he can't hurt me anymore than the day he left. I flew home to get ready for his visit.

He showed up at my house at 5:30. He enveloped me in his big, strong arms. How I missed them so during our 4 days apart. His familiar scent stirred my nostrils, his face brightened my eyes, his voice was like music to my ears, and his touch was soothing to my skin. We clung to each other for a while, seemingly not wanting to let each other go. When his lips pressed against mine to greet me hello, I swooned.

We were soon interrupted by the couple who wanted to look at the Jeep. Charlie tended to them outside, and when I appeared on the back balcony to see what was going on, he looked up at me with that soft, proud smile on his face and said "That's my girlfriend."

Let me backtrack a bit to the night he told me he was moving out. When he first broke the news to me, I flipped.

"What are you saying?!?!?!? Are you breaking up with me?!?!" I had demanded.

"No, that's not what I'm saying," he lied. "I just need some time to figure out what I want."

Confusion overwhelmed me. I was not sure what our status was, whether we were completely broken up, or we were just going to take a step back to work on us. He never gave me a straight answer on that, so when he introduced me to the couple who were interested in purchasing the Jeep as his "girlfriend," my heart soared. We were going to work on 'us.'

After the couple left, Charlie and I made a little small talk and hung out in my kitchen. I dared to kiss him, brushing my lips so very lightly against his. The electricity was tremendous. I dared to go a bit further, wanting to taste every inch of him. We hadn't kissed like this in years, nor have I felt anything like this since this one guy I kissed when I was 21. Despite his efforts to resist me, we ended up having the best sex we've ever had. Ever.

After it was over, he got dressed and left. I thought I would feel empty, but I didn't. Perhaps it was because he called me his girlfriend, and this made me optimistic. We had such a passionate relationship between us for 7 years, we had to keep trying. This man loved me more than life itself, you could see and feel the passion that we had for each other when we were together - that was how convinced I was.

I was so naïve then. But I am not anymore.

Cheers, to truth and realization.

Declaring Independence

noreply@blogger.com (Vanessa) — Sun, 01 Mar 2009 05:12:00 +0000

Independence is a virtue. Dependence is acceptable. Co-dependence…not so great.

Ever since I can remember, I have always been a bit of a loner. I was painfully shy while growing up - I know, hard to see. I did not start coming out of my shell until later in the fourth grade. But I have always had a strong independent streak, and I attribute that to my mother (along with other underlying factors). You see, though my family is quite Americanized, we were still a typical Chinese family - man and woman marry, they hate each other, they make babies, and then refuse to divorce because it's not "custom" to do so. So they make it an agenda to spend the rest of their lives making each other miserable. That is my family. It was quite dysfunctional in an amusing way.

Watching how unhappy my father made my mother, and how she made her life bearable by retreating into her own little world helped me to never depend on anyone else to make me happy. I built my life on making sure that I am responsible for my own happiness. No one will ever bring me down, and if they try to do so, that will be the last time they try.

A week after 'moving day,' I was sitting on my front balcony having another "I miss Charlie" conversation with Katie. To help me bide my time, she suggested that I write up a list of things to do while I am single.

"You have always talked about what you wanted to do if you were single, here is your chance," she said.

There are so many things I want to do in life before I settle down, but have always held back because I was with Charlie. Here was my opportunity to make up for it. It was the least I could do before I entered another relationship - whenever that may be. The last thing I want is to be with someone and always think "I wish I was single so I can do this…" I thought it constantly when I was with Charlie, and even then I thought it was unfair for me to feel this way. When I move on into my next relationship, I hope to not be thinking this way.

So, I grabbed a pen and a piece of paper, and my list went like this:

1. Watch MTV and VH1 in peace.
2. Travel alone.
3. Sleep with the TV on without someone bitching by my side..
4. Be able to moon people at my own free will.
5. Have sex with 2 guys at once.
6. Buy a box of condoms and use it all - with different people.
7. Learn to really be alone, and be OK with it.
8. Not have ESPN on my TV for a month.
9. Move out of the area.
10. Live in the city.
11. Find Vanessa Loren Dai.
12. BE TRULY HAPPY.

Every item I have completed and crossed off this list gave me a sense of accomplishment. It was liberating. Over time I found that it was much nicer to be marching to the beat of my own drum, though I do look forward to that one day when someone will be marching with me.

Cheers to independence.

First Impressions, First Love

noreply@blogger.com (Vanessa) — Sat, 28 Feb 2009 05:17:00 +0000

My weekend nights are usually reserved for my girls. If I go out with a guy, usually it will be on the weeknights. On the rare occasions that I go out with a guy on the weekend, they will join my friends and me - and in these cases, I'm usually a bit more interested in him than the norm.

To be truly honest, I do not really know why I work this way. My guess is that I have a rule on intimacy and sleeping over - I don't do either. Why? Some say it's because I'm too independent. Sometimes I agree.

I remember the first time Charlie and I went out on a Saturday. I had picked him up in the morning to go to the pool. After a few fun hours of sunning and swimming, we had dinner where I invited him to hang out later that night for a friend's birthday party. I then proceeded on drinking way too much, throwing up in his bathroom sink (which needed to be drano-ed out later), and then passing out in his bed. Embarrassing? Very. I even yelled at him for asking me a "philosophical" question. Thank goodness for his sense of humor. I don't know any man who would have called me after a night like this.

I woke up the next day with the nastiest hangover, and God bless him - he made me blueberry pancakes. Unfortunately, my stomach was too sour to take it so I didn't really eat it. I was extremely touched by his efforts, however, and invited him and his roommate to play volleyball with my brother and me later that afternoon (post-hangover).

I was floored that I was opening myself up to him like this. Let me digress a bit to let you in to see who I am, and how I normally "work."

Nobody is more important to me than my family. Family, for me, includes my best friends - male and female. I love spending time with my family, and I will do anything and everything for my family. Random men, don't mean anything to me. I guess you can call me a serial dater. I never have less than 5 men in my queue, but I don't normally sleep with any of these men. They are men that I normally meet, am interested in for a short period of time, and then they fall out. Once they fall out, there is someone else to replace their position in the queue. Why do I do this? I'm not always out to hook up. I love meeting new people, and making new friends. If I have to try to get to know a guy and make a friend out of him through "interest," then that's what I will do. The ones that see me for me and stick around, will realize that they are better off being friends with me. Those that don't, don't. What do I have to lose? Nothing. Don't get me wrong, when I am single, there is nothing I love more than the game, and playing that game, I am an expert at.

Why play the game? Who cares? Insecure, I am not. Just think of it this way…before Charlie, I was single for a year. Before that, I was with another guy for 5 and a half years. If you do the math, I've pretty much been in a relationship since I was 16. Where is the time to grow and figure out who I am? When I am in a relationship, I am fiercely loyal and devoted. When I am single, I will take advantage of every minute I can to just have fun, and to enjoy life. I am the best girlfriend one can ever have, and I am the best woman for a hook up.

Life is so short, we must take advantage of every phase we are in. So why waste my time on someone who will not appreciate me in the long run? I approach every situation in this manner because I sincerely believe that no expectations = no disappointments. That equation is not hard to understand. That is yet another one of my life mantras. We expect so much out of life, and want everything to be so perfect that it causes stress and anxiety when we are dealt the "wrong" card - something we can not avoid. It's not that I don't have high goals or expectations, I would just rather not deal with the stress that comes with meeting them. Things will work out on their own and in their own time, and most of the time we cannot control how we get there.

Even after that humiliating night, Charlie ended up seeing me for me, and loving me for me. Even to this day, I believe he would not want me to change myself for anything - except for what makes me happy. I think I saw this in him from day one, and that's why he was the first person I was able to let into my soul in such a short period of time.

Cheers. To the first real love of my life.

Dying Hope

noreply@blogger.com (Vanessa) — Fri, 27 Feb 2009 05:19:00 +0000

"Spend this weekend with me." I said to Charlie at the first dinner we had together a week and a half after he moved out. Mind you, I was still confused as to what our status was. Just a few minutes before, I had asked him if we were still together as boyfriend and girlfriend. "I don't know," was his answer, "you were just so unhappy with me."

Actually, that was his constant excuse as to why he left me, "I did this for us. You were always so unhappy with me." Soon I realized it was him projecting his unhappiness with me onto me. It was easier for him to say that he left because I was unhappy than to just let me know that he was not in love with me anymore.

I must admit that I did not make our relationship easy for us for a period of time. I went through a year and a half of depression and anxiety in which I had to seek therapy for, and was successful in overcoming. During this period I drank heavily and was always lashing out at him at every chance possible. We would go out, I would get completely trashed and then pick a huge fight with him by the end of the night where I would call him awful things. The last time this happened, he threatened to break up with me - and he had every reason to. I had degraded him in front of our friends and even slapped him. This instance sobered me up and resulted in me taking serious steps in dealing with my issues head on. But by that time, the damage was done. For the next year and a half we were together, his faith in me was gone.

So, you see, I can completely understand why he would want to leave me, even though for that year and a half since I worked my issues out we were seemingly at our happiest in over 2 years. Turns out I was wrong, which I accepted. It was what happened after we broke up that devastated me.

"I can't spend this weekend with you," he said in response to my request to spending the weekend together. "I can do 1 night. Which night do you want?"

"Saturday, of course." Saturday nights used to be our nights. If I didn't reserve a night for us, we would never spend any time together - for his life revolves around his friends. Saturday night it was, he was going to spend the night.

Saturday came, and we hadn't spoken since that night we went to dinner. He had stopped by that afternoon to pick up some more of his belongings and to drop something off for me. Not a word was said about our plans for that night.

"What are your plans for tonight?" I casually asked him. He had some plans with his friends. "I thought we were going to do something tonight, Charlie. We planned it the other night." He said he would start the night very early with some friends then hang out with me. He was going to call me.

11:00pm rolled around, and still no word. I called my friend, Katie, and vented to her.

"Wait. Charlie is here, at this bar." She told me. I flipped. 15 minutes later, he called me. We got into a huge fight. I mean, come on, have some respect and call me to break our plans, don't keep me waiting. I could at least have made some other plans if I knew he was going to blow me off. One argument led to another as he was trying to make really awful excuses for not calling me earlier, but what he said next blew me away.

"Vanessa, I am going to date." He said. "We are not together anymore."

I felt like someone just punched me in the face. I felt like HE punched me in the face. 2 weeks after he left me, that's when he finally admitted that he was breaking up with me, and that we weren't taking a step back to get some space between us so we can work on "us." I thought I couldn't feel anymore stupid than I felt at that moment. If I would have known that it was OVER, if he would just have told me from day one that it was OVER - none of this would have happened. I could have gone on my own merry way 2 weeks before. Instead, I wasted my time, hoping.

At that very moment, as soon as those words rolled off his tongue, I lost all hope. And a small part of me started to die.

Cheers.

Needing Each Other

noreply@blogger.com (Vanessa) — Thu, 26 Feb 2009 05:20:00 +0000

For the first month, the hardest times of the day for me were when I woke up, when I got home from work, and bedtime. Charlie and I had a "routine," and it went something like this:

Mornings
Every morning, before Charlie would leave for work, he would kiss me goodbye. Sometimes he would roll me over and spank my butt a few times, but he would always kiss me goodbye. On the rare times that he would forget to kiss me, I would somehow wake up, jump out of bed, and run downstairs to ask him for the goodbye kiss. Then I would crawl back into bed and go back to sleep. Those who know me know that I don't get out of bed in the mornings for ANYTHING. I needed those goodbye kisses so I could wake up bright eyed and bushy tailed.

So after he left, I woke up every morning with an empty feeling in the pit of my stomach. The other side of my bed was cold, my cat Zoe was not yowling erratically to Charlie to feed her, and most importantly - no goodbye kiss. I willed him so hard to remember that routine and at least text message me a kiss in the mornings, but apparently my telekinetic powers were not up to snuff.

Fresh start to a new day? I think not. However, time heals all wounds and I looked forward to getting up, getting my day over with, and then going to bed so time could keep going and heal my wounded heart.

Home from Work
I used to rush home from work every day to see Charlie. When we got home in the evenings, we would watch ESPN and the Food Network for a little bit, then we would go to the gym. Even if he had to rush off to the gym immediately and I wasn't going to go until later, I would still rush home to see him before he went off - even if it was only for 5 minutes. Charlie was a sight for my sore eyes after a day's work (shut up guys). It was like I needed to see him after work, just like I needed his kisses in the morning.

I stopped coming home after work for a while. I could not deal with the silence. If I did not meet up with a friend, I would go shopping. I spent a LOT of money. Shop therapy is THE best therapy.

Bedtime
Going to bed at night is bittersweet. It exemplifies the ending of a day where you segue into a new day when everything is supposed to be brighter. For me, I knew I would wake up still feeling like shit. At the same time, however, it helped me to flee from my sadness. That's why I welcomed and hated it at the same time.

I also had problems sleeping without Charlie by my side. He used to have problems sleeping without me by his side…we were so physically attuned to each other, I was astonished when he stopped needing me by his side. We would spoon up against each other at night, my little body tucked into his - it was the perfect fit, like puzzles pieces connecting together. I missed his snoring, his heavy arms and legs that he would throw over and crush me with; and of course, his violent dream attacks where he would reach over and choke me then blame it on a bird behind my head. I'm just kidding, he really wasn't that violent.

As I am writing this entry, I am realizing that there is one word I used over and over again, and that is need. I needed Charlie. And back then when we were on greener pastures, he needed me. I remember when we would go out and have bonding moments when we would confess our need for each other.

Need, in a relationship, is unhealthy. Want is healthy. We should want to be together. Need demonstrates that you cannot live without the other person while the other person is living. Want demonstrates that you can live without the other person while the other person is living, you just want them to be with you. Essentially, Charlie's and my relationship was unhealthy. This split started to make sense for the better. I needed to not need Charlie. I needed to want him. That was my first stepping stone.

It was an easier revelation to take in than when I realized he didn't want me.

Cheers. To our needs and wants.

Going to Chicago

noreply@blogger.com (Vanessa) — Wed, 25 Feb 2009 05:24:00 +0000

My cousin, Andy, was getting married in June. The tickets and plans were already made to attend this wedding. I was torn with wanting to go with Charlie, or just going with my brother. It was tough, I love traveling and I love traversing around town in a new area checking out all the sites and of course, the nightlife. Charlie enjoyed the same luxuries and activities as I did. Was I emotionally stable enough to bring him along?

My answer was yes.

So off we went to the windy city. We stayed at the Amalfi hotel in the River North district. Once we entered the city, it was like I walked into a dream where we were back together again. Everything felt so comfortable and so good…but it didn't feel right. We were not supposed to be calling each other by our pet names, we were not supposed to be snuggling up to each other and saying "I love you," we were not supposed to be doing anything intimate, because intimacy complicates things. The only thing we were supposed to be doing was just enjoying each other's company, and fucking.

It was hard for me to remind myself to switch my emotional mechanism off. I had missed Charlie so much, and he was showing me so much love that the wall I built around myself started to waver a little. But I kept it strong by telling myself that once we stepped out of the city, its back to our separate lives we go. And go, it did - with a few unpleasant surprises 2 days later.

Was this little trip to fantasy land worth the possibility of compromising my emotional and mental health?

Since it didn't, I say yes. I got to see my family and explore a beautiful city. I also added a few more blocks to my wall and reinforced it with more cement.

Cheers. To Chicago.

Happy Birthday to Me

noreply@blogger.com (Vanessa) — Tue, 24 Feb 2009 05:25:00 +0000

The day that we each slipped out of our mother's womb is a very important day. It is the day that we were given life on Earth that is independent to our host of 9 months. It's the day that we must cherish and celebrate to our fullest, for this is the day that we were given this opportunity to experience a consciousness that we are aware of. What did we know before our life? Nothing, except what you learn in school. What will we know after we die? We are not sure. So we must be grateful that we have been given this gift of life and not take it for granted.

Charlie's and my birthday fell 5 days apart. Because of this, we combined our birthdays and celebrated it together every year. But every year, my birthday was overshadowed by his because he had more friends than I did. Don't get me wrong, I had a lot of friends, but most of mine were married and had children, and weren't able to come out and celebrate for they had separate lives of their own.

For years I wanted my own birthday, but I was content on combining both. But only few saw it as "Vanessa and Charlie's Birthday" and instead it was always "Charlie's Birthday." It hurt, but I accepted the fact that most of these people who attended the big party were Charlie's friends, not mine. The ones that were mine, however, saw it as "Vanessa and Charlie's Birthday."

My 29th birthday was important to me. This was going to be the first birthday that I had in 7 years that was my own. I decided I had to live it up and throw a huge party. There was a part of me that was very sad on doing this because it was the first step to accepting that I had really lost the love of my life. But I was determined to get through it, and looked forward to this being solely "my day."

When Charlie and I broke up, it was right before the middle of the year where huge events take place that we normally participate in together. Besides our normal holiday vacations, there were our birthdays, we had a trip to Greece planned, our anniversary, our fall trips, Thanksgiving and then Christmas. How was I to face all of this alone? The thought was terrifying, we had a routine every year, and I was to break from this routine on my own. I then decided I was going to make it a goal to get through each of these "events" alone. I knew that each goal I was to meet with no real emotional complications was going to make me stronger. My birthday was going to be the first test.

And I did it. I had the best birthday of my life.

Lucky for me, I am a very social person, and I had made a lot of friends who have become dear to me within two and a half months. They helped me to make my turning 29 completely worth it. Few of Charlie's friends came, but the ones that stuck it out with me, meant the most to me anyways.

This was my first goal, and I made it. At this point, I have never been happier.

Cheers, to MY birthday…and MY friends.

Breaking The Seal

noreply@blogger.com (Vanessa) — Mon, 23 Feb 2009 05:25:00 +0000

“I’d like to do something for our birthdays, just the two of us.” Charlie said to me early July. We were having dinner together on my balcony. “When are you leaving for Miami?”

“Um…” I racked my brain. I hadn’t bought my ticket yet but I knew the dates for when I was going. “The weekend of the 21st.” I saw a flicker of disappointment cross his eyes.

“I’m doing my birthday party that weekend and I really want you to be there.” He told me. I relented and agreed that we would celebrate the Friday (just the two of us) of that weekend and then I would fly to Miami the next day.

One of my best friends, Toni, was taking her bar exam and was dying to go on vacation for a little R&R. Normally our spot is Ocean Shitty, MD, but we made a pact that we would go to an actual beach one day. This was our day.

After a night of partying and some birthday sex, Charlie dropped me off at the airport early Saturday morning. We kissed goodbye and he held me tight against him.

“I love you.” He says sadly. “Have a great week and a fun time.”

I turned away so he could not see me wipe the errant tears that escaped from my eyes. I entered the airport and turned around to watch him drive away. I stood there for a minute, unsure of my feelings to what I was doing and whether I was ready. At this point, I am beginning the process of leaving my life behind and starting a new one. A single one. I had decided that this was going to be THE week – the week that I was going to “break my seal.”

For 7 years I only had sex with one guy. It was time for me to bag some new ones. Why did I choose this week? Miami, of course. I am no stranger to one night stands or casual (but SAFE) sex, and I was not going to bind my legs together just because my ex could not figure out whether he wanted to be with me or not. He wants to find himself? Well, so do I. And if I have to spread my legs to do it, then so be it.

I was not doing this for revenge or to “fill” some missing piece of my heart. It was time to move on. I will not ride down the path of one's confusion with them, no matter how much I love them. I have my own shit to deal with.

I threw my bag over my shoulder, grabbed my suitcase, and made my way to the gate.

As I trudged through the airport, I was wrecked with anxiety. Though I have had quite a few partners before Charlie, he was IT for 7 years and I was insecure as to whether I could be a good lover to another guy. Well, I am going to Miami. What better place and time to put my skills to test and fake that confidence and ride that donkey.

I took a deep breath and got on the plane.

Cheers. To broken seals.

Trust Issues

noreply@blogger.com (Vanessa) — Sat, 21 Feb 2009 12:26:00 +0000

Charlie's and my relationship was not a tulmultuous one. We actually had a decent relationship with issues, much like many couples. We never did the break up and get back together routine, but we did take some time away (meaning spent nights apart and slept in different rooms) so we could think things through, but they never really lasted more than a week. Usually we ended up stronger from these times apart. I am not saying it was easy, nor could we resolve our problems in a matter of a week or even a few. We were just devoted to each other and dedicated enough to do the best we could. It was a mature relationship in my eyes.

There was one issue that I could not work through, no matter what I kept telling myself. That issue was Charlie’s relationships with women. I am not a jealous person by any means, trust is the primary facet of a relationship and you cannot have one without trust. It is also a characteristic of insecurity, and I refuse to be with someone who makes me feel insecure.

So let us go back in time, so I can explain to you what went on for the past 7 years we were together...

Ever since Charlie and I began dating, there was one woman or another in the picture. First it was his ex. For two years she terrorized us, and I always turned my back to it. She was deemed a “psycho” by his closest friends and family, who never hesitated to tell me so. The psychotic side of her was solidified when she moved up to DC and stalked me in the gym. I will not go into details of that, but let’s just say it turned out to be a bad experience.

I always turned my back to everything that had to do with her because she lived in Florida. Perhaps she was a bit on the loco side, but now when I look back, I see how Charlie contributed to her behavior. They were high school sweethearts, and they had a passion for each other that neither have ever felt and probably still have not felt. Charlie was trying to rid his past of a relationship that was not working, and then he found me.

One day, after the break up, I was packing up the rest of his stuff. I found an old journal of his, and my curiosity got the better of me and I opened it. In there were old poems they had both written to each other, and they were breathtakingly filled with so much passion that it brought me to tears. It made me long for that type of relationship. I read some of his entries during one of his break ups, and he expressed so much hurt and borderline suicidal pain, an emotion I had never seen from him. I began to hurt for him, for he was so hurt from that relationship he could never open up like that to ours. This is when I began to really understand him. I did not feel any jealousy for his past, just sadness for him because he has not found that type of person to feel that way for since. It’s no wonder she acted the way she did. I would probably go psycho if I had that type of relationship with someone and it was over.

Earth shattering, I know. If I could even feel anything I would be happy.

Enough of my digression, let us move on.

Right before his ex stalked me in the gym, I was stalked by another girl. Now she was certifiably unhinged. Charlie befriended her, and he was so nice to her that she got attached. Charlie is a very sweet guy, one of the best people to turn to if you have a problem. He will make you feel so good about yourself by the time you are done unloading yourself that you have no choice but to love him. When she finally met me, geezus, if looks could kill I would have been one of those who were stabbed 37 times – a type of rage where you keep “killing” the person once they were dead. She treated me quite shoddily, which I always brushed off. Jealousy is not a good quality to have, but it is worse when you have not even been intimate with a person. That was her.

3 years, 2 stalkers.

Charlie has this hair dresser. She is as sweet as sweet can be. However, she is an enabler of drama to guys with girlfriends, whether it is intentional or not. For her side jobs, she would do hair for aspiring photographers and amateur modeling agencies, picking up “models” along the way. Well, these female “models” LOVE causing rifts for guys with girlfriends. I refused to fall into this type of conflict, so how do I fight back? I am as sweet as sweet can be. If you react negatively in an open way, they win. If you act like it doesn’t affect you, they lose. I always won. They either backed off or they treated me with respect. This hairdresser never treated me with badly, she just opened the door for him to bring these types of girls into my life. When I broached the subject with him, did it matter to him that I was uncomfortable? If it did, he did not show it. Nothing changed.

4 years, 2 stalkers, 1 enabler, at least 3 troublemakers that I knew of.

One night we were meeting up with our friends at a bar. We were walking up to the entrance when this random girl grabs Charlie and embraces him in a hug. He introduces us briefly, then drags me off rather quickly. She gave me a look that rivaled my first stalker’s look. A year later, he sat me down and told me why.

“Remember the weekend I went to Dewey with my friends?” he asked. Ah yes, flash back a year and a half ago, that same weekend, I was visiting a friend of mine in Florida.

Apparently while in Dewey beach, the girl I was introduced to and Charlie ran into each other. She was drunk as shit, he was drunk as shit. His story? He was trying to help her, and in this process, she kisses him. A kiss a friend of ours witnessed.

“She didn’t kiss me on the mouth,” he says, “she just got the corner.”

Flash forward few months, he meets her for happy hour. I remember that happy hour, he told me he had a work happy hour and he would be a bit late. He does not normally have work happy hours, but he got home by 7 and we went to the gym. So I did not think there was anything to be concerned about. I trusted him, after all.

So this girl met up with Charlie for this “work related” happy hour, and our friend who witnessed the “kiss” was at the same bar. She saw them together, and saw that this girl talking rather closely to Charlie, and she put her hands on his thighs. Charlie then noticed our friend, then got up and left, with girl in tow.

What prompted this confession?

Our friend mentioned these interactions in front of my best friend. She thought we were broken up. My best friend threatened to tell me, so Charlie had to tell me. The day he told me, I got so numb. Oh no, not again. I thought. I looked him in the eye and asked “Is that it?”

“Yes.” Was his reply. I did not hear anything else that came out of his mouth. I was too distracted. I maintained my composure, told him I needed some time to think, and left the room.

I started shaking. The stifled anger was so overwhelming, I did not know what to do at this point. How many years of this shit was I going to put up with? How much longer was I going to have to choose when to trust him or not? When was he going to see how draining on my mental and emotional state this was? I have already told him how his interactions with women bother me and his response was always “Trust me, I love you.”

What was my choice at this point?

I stayed.

5 years, 2 stalkers, 1 enabler, 3+ admirers, 1 rumored kiss.

Just in case you did not know, Charlie and I lived together for 6 years. One night, I was doing his laundry. He was laying on my bed watching TV. I grabbed his gym bag which was sitting on the laundry basket and dumped everything out. Out falls a card.

Aw. How cute. I thought,he’s carrying a card of mine around. His mother and I are pretty much the only people to give him cards, so I opened the card and my blood drained from my face as I read it. The note ended with “…my white prince.” It was from a mutual friend of ours. Well, she was more his friend, but we have hung out a few times and she was always so nice to me. Plus she lived in California. So why should I have suspected anything before?

I threw his stuff into the washing machine and took a few deep breaths. I had to tread on this carefully.

I went into the bedroom.

“Charlie,” I began. “I’m not trying to pick a fight. I just have a question for you. Please don’t take this the wrong way, I just want to know the truth.”

“Yes babe, what’s on your mind?” he sits up, concerned. I tell him what I found and how it made me feel. He rolls his eyes, but explains that it was an old card from before about a joke they had. He had pulled out the card to find her email because he lost it. But why would she write her email on a card? Regardless, I accepted this answer, and brushed it off. He loves me, he told me, she knew it.

6 years, 2 stalkers, 1 enabler, 3+ admirers, 1 rumored kiss, 1 questionable “friend.”

That, everyone, was the beginning of the end of my trust.

Cheers, the beginning of the shattering of my trust.

Building Confidence

noreply@blogger.com (Vanessa) — Sat, 21 Feb 2009 05:32:00 +0000

I spent the summer of 2006 working on my self confidence. Being dumped by someone you once thought you would die with definitely takes a toll on your physical and mental state. Thoughts such as "I wasn't good enough," or "I wasn't pretty enough," even "I was such a heinous bitch!" clouded my mind. When I found myself plotting ways of "changing" myself in hopes of getting him back, I realized that I needed to work on myself for me, not for some idiot that did not know my worth.

So first things first, I needed attention. And I needed attention from men. I needed them to tell me I was beautiful and sexy...to desire me. I wanted to feel like a woman again, and not some shell of a broken hearted dumpee. After seven years with one guy, I had trepidation towards dating again - but practice makes perfect. It was like I was standing atop a high diving board, looking down into a pool of men, nervous to take that first step off. I held my breath, and dove in, right into the singles scene. I was ready to be embraced and to be rejected.

Rejection. Such a bad word. But I gave it and I took it. And I kept going to different pools to practice my diving.

You may question my ego and self esteem. I assure you, despite my insecurities after the break up, I am comfortable enough as a sexual being and have enough confidence in myself in which if a man does not want me, there are plenty out there that would. I have a lot to offer as a woman, and if one does not recognize this, there is another that will. Life is too precious and too short to waste your time on someone who does not fully appreciate you. There are plenty of fish in the sea, Ladies, you just need to use the right bait.

There is also a need to realize that rejection is a part of life. If you do not learn to deal with rejection, you won't enjoy life to its fullest. I learned to take everything in stride and just move on. So for every one guy that rejected me, there were a few more that did not. Pretty soon, I had men from all over the world desiring me, and that, my friend, was what I needed to start feeling like a woman again.

Next, I decided to tackle that "list" i had created when we first broke up. One of them being #2: Travel Alone. This is something I have always wanted to do but held back because of Charlie - not because he did not want me traveling alone, but because I wanted to travel with him. However, we didn't travel together very much because he did most of his traveling with his friends. Bitter? Then, no. Now? Yes.

So I packed my bags and racked up some serious airline miles that summer. There was something scary yet thrilling about being in a new place alone. That along with my insatiable lust to view, experience, live, breathe, make love to, and eat the world (if we must), fueled my independence. With every trip logged into my book, came fulfillment. With fulfillment, came confidence.

Third, I found security with my friends. When Charlie and I were together, his friends became my friends. When he left me, so did his friends. I mean, I had my own friends, but I am pretty active and go out a lot, which is a difficult lifestyle to keep up with. So I began creating and building on the bonds with my new and existing friends, and the stronger those bonds got, the stronger I became. I then realized that these people loved me for me, and not because I was Charlie's girlfriend. I had found my identity and finally solidified my core. This gave me the strength to plod on and continue my healing process.

Cheers, to all the confident people around the world.

Home Sweet....What?

noreply@blogger.com (Vanessa) — Fri, 20 Feb 2009 05:38:00 +0000

Home sweet home. Yes, after being away from home for three weeks, and as magical as my time away was, I was looking forward to snuggling with my cats and sleeping in my own bed.

Depression always settles in me whenever I return from vacation. So when Charlie came back from Los Angeles two days after I returned from Greece, I went to his house to find comfort in him. He had flown straight from Athens to Los Angeles to celebrate his best friend's birthday, and then came home. We had sex, then passed out curled up in each other's arms.

Morning came, and I woke. Charlie had already left for work, so I showered and padded around his condo lazily. Still basking in the afterglow of all his declarations of love for me while in Greece and even the night before, I went to make myself a cup of coffee. I spotted his camera on the counter top and with a small smile, I turned it on to look at his pictures of Greece. I hurriedly scrolled through a few of his "Los Angeles" pictures and found a picture of a girl's butt. Is that mine? I had to question myself. No. This was a picture of a mutual friend of ours. Well, she was more his friend, but we talked on occasion. Hell, right before I went to Greece, she was trying to help me find a job within her company. She lives in Orange County, and I had mentioned her in a previous blog. She was the "questionable friend."

So I looked at the photos, trying to convince myself that these were playful pictures, and that he, his best friend and HER were horsing around. I asked him in Greece if he was fucking anyone else yet. He said "no." But the more pictures I saw, the more I realized that he lied about everything. He lied about going to Los Angeles, and he lied about going to visit his best friend. He actually flew to San Francisco to attend a wedding with HER. These were lies that he just came forth and told, without me even asking.

Shaken, I grabbed my phone and dialed Charlie.

"Hello dear," came the familiar sound of his voice as he picked up. I started to calmly tell him about my findings, and then....

"Have you been fucking HER?!?!" I demanded. I got my answer.

My heart dropped. I cannot begin to describe the raw pain that I felt without going back to that day and reliving it. I have never been so betrayed, or so hurt by someone who supposedly loved me as he said he did. Seven years of my life...I felt cheated out of the true love that I deserved. Not because he moved on as quickly as he did, but because he so blatantly lied and deceived me.

Whatever was dying inside of me when he first told me he was going to date was completely dead now.

Cheers.

Late Night Visitor

noreply@blogger.com (Vanessa) — Thu, 19 Feb 2009 05:40:00 +0000

Soon after I had found out about HER, I began a blog called "SHAGQUEST." Over the next few months, the sordid details of my dating life was detailed in this blog and laughed at between my friends and me. I had as much fun writing it as they did reading it.

One night, I was out celebrating my friend's birthday when I received a text from Charlie at 1:30am asking to come over. Thinking it was a booty call, I allowed it.

Yes, I continued talking to Charlie. You see, I was dead inside, I felt nothing, I wanted nothing. My body was pretty much a contraption for my rotting organs at this point. So while I continued to talk to him, I continued to fuck him as well. He couldn't hurt me anymore than he already had. I was dead, and you couldn't make me anymore dead.

However, every interaction we had opened my eyes and allowed me to see him for who he really is. The rose colored glasses were fading, and my vision became more clear. Gone was my "prince" and there remained someone's "white prince." Good riddance to the coward he always was, SHE can deal with him now.

So at 2:30am, Charlie arrived at my house with a stack of papers in his hands. Tears flowing out of his eyes, he showed me his print outs of SHAGQUEST. Apparently one of our mutual friends had told him about the site. He was devastated.

"How could you do this?" He asked. "I always thought we would get back together again and get married."

Wait....What? My rotting organs turned to rage (was that an emotion i was feeling?) and began to bubble, threatening to turn to a boil before spewing all its contents into Charlie's face.

HOW DARE HE. I thought.

He fucked HER on his birthday after fucking me the day he sent me off to Miami.

HOW DARE HE.

He spent the whole time in Greece with me, telling me he loves me and how he doesn't want to lose intimacy with me. Does he not remember that morning?

"I meant every word I said in Greece, and everything I say today." He said to me.

Yet he left Greece for San Francisco to fuck HER.

HOW DARE HE.

Lie to me.

HOW DARE HE.

Bring her to Shenandoah Valley, to our spot, less than 6 months after we broke up. On our fall foliage trip we do every year. I brought him there and introduced him to that place, and I did all the research for all of those wineries he took HER to.

"He's unoriginal and he is only trying to replace you." Katie said. "But he can't."

I love Katie.

HOW DARE HE.

Fuck HER while using me as a storage unit, when I begged him to move his stuff out of my house before he fucked anyone else.

HOW DARE HE.

Lie to me. Deceive me. Disrespect me.

HOW DARE HE give me all this shit about my blog when I never lied to him about anything.

Yet when I looked at his face, and looked into his watery blue eyes, I felt sad for him. The rage in me simmered. This was the most emotion I have ever seen from him, and it touched me.

I touched his face.

"This isn't like you." He says.

Oh yes, yes it is. It is me now.

Cheers.

Happy Holidays!

noreply@blogger.com (Vanessa) — Wed, 18 Feb 2009 05:44:00 +0000

Holidays are here! To bring us happiness and good cheer!

In a previous entry, Birthdays, I wrote about how I had to set little goals to get over "routines" Charlie and I had over the last seven years. While I made it through pretty unscathed, the Holidays were going to be a doozy.

Thanksgiving was normally spent with my family. Then we would head down to Tampa, FL for Christmas with his family. Not being a part of his family's festivities that year hurt. I thought I was going to have a very sad and tear filled Christmas.

But I got over it. That was because my family and friends came through and helped to make the holidays that year for me special.

Cheers, to my family and friends.

New "Love"

noreply@blogger.com (Vanessa) — Tue, 17 Feb 2009 05:45:00 +0000

Ladies night! Katie and I got out of her car and we strutted our way up to the door of a club.

"Hey, I know you!" says the door guy. Apparently I met him Thanksgiving weekend of another club. Plus, he knew one my friends.

I smiled at him, made small talk, and then entered the club. We danced and we drank, and when he got out of work, he came in and boogied down with us.

Few weeks later, we started hanging out. Few months later, I fell "in love" with him.

So let me tell you a bit about this guy. He was tall, 6'2", blond hair, blue eyes, 24 years old....oh, and he was engaged.

Engaged?

Yes, you read right, he was engaged. And his fiancé lived in another state (military). What the fuck was I doing falling "in love" with an engaged man? Let's look at the whole picture this way:

I spent the last half of the year closed off on the inside, engaging in meaningless trysts that pretty much lead to no where but to an entry in my SHAGQUEST blog. These guys did not care about me, and that was fine because I did not care about them either. Then this guy popped into my life. He befriended me, and hung out with me purely for the pleasure of my company. He would also come over and help me around the house. We never crossed that line nor were we ever close to doing so. We had a "relationship" in a very platonic way. Essentially, he was there for me and took very good care of me at a time when I needed someone like him the most.

In February of 2007, SHE moved here from California to be with Charlie. During what would have been a devastating time for me, it actually turned out quite pleasant. I just didn't give a shit anymore, because Danny helped me to see that there are good men out there. And there are more of them around than you would think. You just have to be receptive to them at the right time. He also helped me to see that Charlie wasn't a good male for me. Slowly, I began to open up. I let feelings for Danny come forth, my heart stopped feeling as empty, my insides not as rotten. He did all this for me by just being a good guy.

How could I not fall "in love"? How could anyone?

So in May, he got married and moved away. He was there in my life at this time for a reason, and that was to help me heal. This is why I "love" him.

Cheers, to the beginning of my healing.

1 Year Anniversary

noreply@blogger.com (Vanessa) — Mon, 16 Feb 2009 05:46:00 +0000

April 29, 2007. Exactly one year from the day Charlie moved out. It has been a hard year of rebuilding my life, but with the help of my friends and family, I am no longer a shell of a woman.

Katie picked me up from Lia's house and gave me flowers and a very sweet card. We then headed down to D.C. and had a picnic on the Mall. It was a gorgeous evening and the weather was perfect.

"How do you feel?" Katie asked me.

I smiled and thought for a minute. "I feel good."

For one year, I battled my heart with my mind. For one year, I had to reconstruct a life that was destroyed in one night. For one year, I had to convince myself that I could love someone again. For one year, I developed my identity. Every day of the last year was brutal and painful. But here I am, on April 29, 2007, one year from the break up..and I am feeling happy and completely whole. And I would not change any part of my past that has lead me down this path to where I am today.

I can now finally close this chapter of my life.

Cheers, to the mending of my broken heart.