Hideaway

I know I haven’t been on here in months… and I only have a handful of posts to my username… but that’s because I’ve just been busy with a million other things, and this blog has fallen by the wayside.

But now I have a bunch of shit to say, because I am totally fed up inside and I need to let it out. Here goes.

I love him, and I know he loves me. It’s never even been a question. We care so much that our love stretches across state borders - I’m currently living back in my hometown in Texas and he’s still living in Louisiana. And breaking up? Unimaginable. Not even at this distance. We’re going to work through this long-distance crap, and eventually live under the same roof once again.

BUT… he’s not only 28, living rent-free and is still shit broke, he can’t find a job and he can’t renew his driver’s license until he pays off $1,200 in traffic tickets. I’m not going to say this situation isn’t his fault - because it totally is - but it’s not his fault now that no one is hiring. And I know he’s tried. Before I moved back home, I went with him on his job hunts.

Why am I telling you all of the bullshit my boyfriend is dealing with? Why do I have to spew this out?

Because I want to marry him, that’s why.

Go ahead, cluck your tongues and shake your head. I know how crazy that sounds. He’ll ruin my finances. We’ll never get out of a financial hole. We’ll be homeless within six months. I can hear all of these things in my head.

But I still love him, still want him, still care so much.

Of course, he’s not proposing anytime soon. He’s smart enough to know that THAT can’t happen anytime soon, not without a solid financial foundation. But you see… that’s the problem.

Because I want to at least get engaged NOW.

It could be a very long engagement. My best friend got engaged three years before her wedding. And so many of my other friends are doing it… Not that I have a fad mentality. (No, if everyone else jumped off a cliff, I wouldn’t… etc.) The thing is, the one thing I’ve always wanted to do with my life is get married and have a family. Ever since I was ten, I just wanted to have a husband and a baby. Some people’s passions in life are a career field. Mine is loving my favorite people.

So, to watch everyone else get to do what I’ve always longed to do… It frustrates me. Because I’ve FOUND my man. I love him, I’ll take care of him to the end of the earth. And he knows how I feel about this. Marriage is a commitment that I take seriously; for example, if we were married, I wouldn’t have moved back to Texas without him. My commitment would be with him, and “till death do us part.”

But we’re not married. So I moved, because I was sick of starving, and I figured it would be more useful to save up money while I was living at my parents’ house, instead of living paycheck to paycheck and getting nowhere.

I don’t even give a fuck if the ring is made of tin. Just let’s go ahead and make it official, dammit. All I’m asking is for you to promise that you’ll make a bigger promise (that you’ve been more or less telling me you’re gonna make someday ANYWAY) later.

He had a paper to write over the evils of procrastination, but he decided he’d deal with it later.

It was easier than she thought it would be. She simply shoved a hand into her jeans pocket, fished out a couple of coins, and smiled as she dropped them into the dirty palm of the bum. Brilliant. She felt so good, too. People should do this more often. 

He looked up at her in a mixture of awe and gratitude. His eyes twinkled blue in dark, leathery skin, under so much grey hair.

“Thank you.” His voice was hoarse; he obviously hadn’t spoken in hours, if that. She shrugged.

“No problem,” she mumbled, keeping her eyes off of him. Yeah, it felt good, but she couldn’t look at him, couldn’t establish a connection, or he’d latch onto her like a lost puppy dog and follow her around. That is what they did, right? She didn’t really know for sure.

The subway car rumbled and shook, then slowed to a stop at the station. She stepped out - this was her stop - and kept her eyes straight ahead, clutching her bag tight. She maneuvered the turn stall, and just as she was halfway up the stairs, the hoarse voice spoke to her right.

“Not many people do that nowadays.”

Dammit. She craned her head toward the sound, confirming what she already knew to be true. He was loping alongside her, already considering her a reliable source of income. She didn’t respond to his statement at first, but she finally decided on a strategic comeback.

“Yeah, well, I don’t do that very often. I can’t afford to make it a habit. Just consider yourself lucky.”

They were at the top of the stairs now, and daylight had started to fade into night in the city. They looked up - and saw the bright comet hurtling toward the skyline. They stood frozen for a second, numb, uncomprehending. Then, the bum said,

“I’d consider myself even luckier if I had any time to spend it. But thanks anyway.”

The sun sets and the chill follows. What was a beautiful sunny day is now a cool dark evening in Louisiana, traffic sounds occasionally cutting through the humid silence. I can feel the goosebumps forming on my bare arms. My coffee, too, has lost its warmth, but I continue to guzzle the bitter elixir. My eyelids are heavier, but I don’t foresee bedtime coming just yet.

I shoulda done more today, shoulda dug further into the mind-numbing facts and figures that I’m supposed to have come up with. But what I’ve seen so far is disheartening, and I can only hope that when I present my research, we abandon Plan A and come up with a Plan B. A Plan B that won’t stress me so much.

What did I do today? I dicked around on the internet far too much, I took a shower, obsessed over my appearance, walked to the store to buy a pack of smokes, considered starting on a story or a drawing, tinkered with my other half’s computer in a failed attempt to fix it, and fantasized about being a sex goddess.

And now it’s approximately nine in the evening and I am writing this.

I think I’ll have another cigarette, I think I’ll have another cup of coffee. I think I’ll run away to Tahiti and dance around a campfire.

No, nevermind, just the cigarette and the coffee, thanks.

And so goes another day in the life of a lazy dreamer, who dreams and never does. Who thinks and never follows through. Maybe someday that will change, but not today. Never today.

Every time your eyes pass over me without lighting up like they used to, it’s like a knife to my gut. Maybe you still hold me and kiss me from time to time, but I try to derive some meaning from it and come up empty handed. It’s moments like that when I start to want to get violent - want to take my fist and smash your jaw with it, want to put the toe of my boot into your kidney as hard as I can, want to see your limp figure broken and sprawled on asphalt, blood aplenty.

But instead, I just sigh and lower my head until it passes, and I love you again.