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Jugular Exposed

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He missed her. He still cared. He needed the truth.

“I have things I need to say to you. Things that it’s taken me over a year to process and come to terms with. I hope you’ll listen?”

His eyes softened. “Of course I’ll listen.”

She gathered courage she’d never possessed and told him that the person he’d loved was a broken, twisted version of herself. The depression had its claws deep and wouldn’t let go.

She knew she would cause pain, but explained where their relationship turned dark. She held back nothing, spilling the many hurts that had caused her countless hours of lost sleep and miles of self-doubt. Her words held no heat. Only honesty. She was strong enough now to give him that.

The bottom line was that she’d needed him to help navigate the darkness. But instead he’d caused her more pain, deepened the sad. Because she wasn’t good enough at her worst. Not for him. Not for anyone. So she had to leave him, and leave that place. It was the only way to survive.

Pausing there, her heart thumped heavily.  She felt the fear spidering as she waited for an indication that he understood why he’d lost her. What if he said she was dead wrong? What if he didn’t take any ownership of the destruction? She sat there, jugular exposed, swimming in a level of vulnerability she’d never experienced before. Underneath her calm expression she was a frightened child, ready to haul the steel curtain up around her heart.

Finally, he spoke.  “I have no excuses. I wasn’t there for you. All I can say is that I was so blinded by how much I love you that I couldn’t see. I couldn’t see what you needed. I let you down. And for that, I’m so fucking sorry. I’m sorry I made it worse, when all I’ve ever wanted to do was make you happy.”

His hand came across the table to grip hers tightly. She looked down at the joining, feeling the familiarity of his skin and the shape of this union.

I finally got through to him.

Fighting the knot in her throat, she replied softly, “And I didn’t have the capacity at that time to tell you what I needed. I was too far gone. I could only manage one of two extremes: sad and mad. I hated the person I was, but I could barely even hold on at that point. I couldn’t live that life any more, trying so fucking hard to make you happy when I was alone in the dark. It wasn’t fair to either of us.”

Neither heard the bachata song blaring through the speakers. The unspoken was far more deafening.

They searched each other’s faces, wondering what in the world to do now.

Her heart calmed, knowing that no matter what happened between them, she’d finally been brave enough to tell him the truth. She’d broken through to the light.


This piece is being submitted to the amazing and 100th!!! Yeah Write Weekly Challenge grid. If you don’t know Yeah Write, you should. The crew at YW are not only amazingly talented bloggers who write and writers who blog, they’ve become my friends.  Not friends with benefits, you perv. Just friends. ;)

Sharp Edges

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Leaning against the hotel sink to touch up her makeup, she remembered her own sharp inhalation at the sound of his voice when he’d answered her call.  Thank god he couldn’t hear her inwardly curse at her heart for daring to do a slow flip flop after all this time.  After all the work she’d put into getting over him. And now just a few hours after making contact again she had a belly of butterflies wondering how this dinner with him would go.

He picked her up from the hotel, surprising her with his new car but not with his choice of cologne. He wordlessly strode around the car’s rear and grabbed her into a bone-crushing hug. As his scent invaded her thoughts, her legs went a little wobbly. The flood of olfactory memories bowled her over for a brief moment.

Steady…steady, now. God, he smells good. But still. Just keep your shit together, girl.

She recovered from the sensory jolt on the ride to dinner and was relaxed again by the time they’d settled into their wine. It was easy, actually. They’d always been friends as equally as lovers. She told him all that she’d overcome since leaving the North a year and a half ago. All that she’d achieved and accomplished – physically, mentally and emotionally. Sincere pride shone in his eyes as he congratulated her. She returned the same pride as he shared his own growth and experiences.

Wow, I’m impressed. He’s changed so much. 

They caught up on each others’ families and the gossip in their old circle of friends as babies, weddings and all the expected drama were laughed over.

“Love the hair, by the way.”

She looked down at the bold strands draping over her shoulder and smiled. “Really, you do?”

“Yes, I really do. For years you’ve said you wanted to go red. I’m glad you finally did it. It suits you and GOD that dimple still kills me when you smile… but I didn’t just say that… Um. What else? Tell me more.”

She delighted in the flattery, but decided to address the first of the elephants in the room.

“So, were you surprised to hear from me?”

“Stunned, actually. Why now? It’s been over a year.”

“I honestly don’t know. I’d told myself all week leading up to this trip that I wouldn’t reach out to you. But the moment the plane touched down, something told me that I had to. It was such a strong feeling… I can’t really explain it.”

Looking at her intently he said, “Well, I’m glad you listened to that feeling. I’ve missed you.”

Their server arrived to refill their wine glasses then, which gave her a moment to ponder over that single statement.

He had missed her.

Once the Pinot was poured she held her glass up to his and toasted. “To reunions.” They clinked and sipped, gazes locked on one another.

Lowering the glass she asked directly, “If you missed me, then why didn’t you reach out to me at all since our last text? Not a single word. Nothing.”

He cast his eyes downward and said softly, “I thought I’d scared you off. I thought I’d hurt you, so I decided to give you space. To be. To let you heal.” Looking up, he locked eyes with her. “I figured when you were ready, you’d let me know.”

The old her would’ve accepted that without pause. The new her could not.

Screw diplomacy.

She leaned forward and blurted the raw feelings. “Didn’t you stop to think that maybe your silence would have made me feel like you didn’t care? That you were done with me, got what you wanted from me, and tossed me aside?”

His voice heated with passion as he fired back,  “I would never. You know how I feel about you. How I’ve always felt about you. That never changed. It still hasn’t.”

Shocked into silence, she sat there feeling the sharp-edged emotions crackling in the space between them.

So many fucking feelings. Shit.

She didn’t have a choice. She needed to tell him the truth.


This piece is being submitted to the amazing Yeah Write Weekly Challenge grid. If you don’t know Yeah Write, you should. The crew at YW are not only amazingly talented bloggers who write and writers who blog, they’ve become my friends.  Not friends with benefits, you perv. Just friends. ;)

The Unfinished

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Sitting in the lush back seat of the chauffeured car, she stared down at the iPhone in her lap. His name and number stared back at her.

She was there on business for only a few short days and could have easily slid in and out of town without him knowing the difference. After all, it had been over a year since she’d pulled him up on her screen. Over a year since they’d exchanged a final painful goodbye. Yet something indescribable was screaming at her to make contact. It was a pull like the love she’d always had for him – undeniable and annoyingly persistent.

They were together for nearly three years. Everything fell apart. She moved away. And she moved on.

Except she didn’t.

Since the two of them had shattered she had dealt with blind dates, suffered the torment of speed dating, endured the crazies of online dating and had an embarrassingly horrific one night stand. She’d made poor decisions while drinking and tried to force feelings when there were none. She smirked, remembering the tribal-tattooed musclehead. That one had almost resulted in an intervention by her friends. She remembered the men who claimed to love her but left coldly and without explanation. Men that weren’t looking for the same things.  Men who were devilishly handsome but devoid of emotional connection.  Men who amused her but never managed to make her belly-laugh.  Men who could certainly turn her on, but never gave her butterflies. Shorter men, taller men, military men, musicians, men far away and men right around the corner… hell, her friends teased that they needed to create a flowchart to keep her love disasters straight.

All she knew was that she had things to say to this man. There was risk, for sure. Reaching out to him meant facing the possibility that he may be seeing someone else, or be married with kids. She didn’t think he would be, but he could also be completely cold or cruel towards her. Yet even though she was opening myself up to a world of potential hurt, she didn’t care. There was no way she could ever completely be whole again if she didn’t take the opportunity to voice her side.

She wouldn’t live her life as a fraud, having never faced the full extent of love and pain and letting go. She knew it was the unfinished holding her back, preventing her from fully opening her heart to anyone else. Yes. She needed to charge headfirst into this, acknowledging fully the element of danger.

The deep inhale and long exhale had a finality in its weight.

Still glaring at her phone, she thought to herself, “He needs to know how much he hurt me. He needs to know what I’ve gone through since the day I packed my car and drove away in tears. How I’ve changed. How the person he dated for three years was a broken, unhappy version of myself. And he needs to see the strong, vivacious woman that I’ve become since him.” Her heart didn’t leave her any choice.  It was time.

Her finger hovered over his number on the screen. And then it made contact.

The screen filled with his name.




“Ohmygod. …….  Hi.”


This piece is being submitted to the amazing Yeah Write Weekly Challenge grid. If you don’t know Yeah Write, you should. The crew at YW are not only amazingly talented bloggers who write and writers who blog, they’ve become my friends.  Not friends with benefits, you perv. Just friends. 😉

Valentine’s Day – What’s Your Style?

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Way back in college, I was that girl. The one who threw the “Anti-Valentine’s Day” parties.

The requirements for attendees stated that you must be unattached and if any rogue couples decided to crash the party after their romantic dinner plans, they were unceremoniously shoved back out the door.

My friends and I would decorate the apartment with those horrific paper banners and cupid cutouts, except they’d been marked up with my own slogans. I’d also leave out blank ones and markers for guests to write their own.

“Love bites.”

“Who cares?”

“Nice shoes. (Wanna ___?)”

“Cupid’s an asshole.”

“Eat more chocolate.”

And so on.

I’d play hostess in a sexy head-to-toe black outfit – the taller the boots, the better. Because, duh. What my fellow single co-eds relished the most was having a destination far away from the commercialized, overly vomitous, forced romance of this dreaded day. We’d all suck down cheap beer to forget what the world was trying so hard to remind us of YOU’RE ALONE, blast the music, and dance the pain night away. Good times. Kinda like this.

Fast-forwarding more years than I care to admit, I can say that I’ve experienced some very romantic versions of this holiday as part of a couple. Awwww. Barf. But I’ve also had just as many Bridget Jones moments of face-eating pints of Haagen Dazs Chocolate Chocolate Chip while watching The Biggest Loser in my fat pants.


Now? I’m just over the whole thing.

You see, I don’t believe in placing sole importance on the actions of a person on a single day. It is the actions of a person every day that matter the most.

Keep the words. Show me instead.

With the right person, I don’t believe it’s necessary to shell out a hundred bucks a head on a four-course prix fixe menu if that’s not your typical style. This girl’s style is that I’d be perfectly content in a pair of ripped jeans, laughing my ass off with someone over a bucket of sloppy bbq ribs and beers. You can keep the satan-created pantyhose, shoes that shred, and overly rich garlic-butter-cream-sauced-poultry/pasta dish that will likely have you running to the restroom in 20 minutes. Who wants that???

I will say that for some, Valentine’s Day is admittedly a nice gesture. It could be a great chance for couples who are stuck in their daily grind of work and/or parenting to reconnect over one special night. But shouldn’t it also just be another day with your honey?

Because the man who treasures your heart, who values you as a person, who wants to do nothing more than make you laugh every single day? He’ll get it. And Valentine’s Day will be just another day that he’s going to continue showing you in his own small ways that he cares. He’s going to do something stupid just to put a smile on your face. He’ll place a surprise kiss on the back of your neck while you’re shoulder-deep in dishes or dirty diapers. And he’ll make you feel like the most beautiful woman on earth, even while your face is covered in barbeque sauce.

Not being fully on board with this holiday doesn’t mean I’ve given up on romance. Not at all. I just think acts of romance should be present in some way that speaks to you every day. It shouldn’t be reserved for just this day.

But that’s just me and maybe I’m crazy. What do you think?

What does Valentine’s Day mean to you? How do you spend it if you’re single? If you have a honey, do you go all fancy-like or stay low key?



Snark the Halls

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Being single during the holidays means that it’s the perfect time of year for many, many things to make you feel stabby.  Go grab your peppermint-bark-crusted-salted-caramel-nutella-oreo-chocolate-explosion cookies and sit down with me for a moment.


‘Tis the Season of family holiday photo cards arriving in the mail. Oh, yay. The snail-mail arrival of perfect photographic depictions of perfect families and perfect kiddos.  The only thing holding my sanity intact when I open these are that I am close enough to these gorgeous faces that I know a photocard only captures one perfect moment. I’ve seen the meltdowns and diaper explosions, people. I’m onto you. 🙂

‘Tis the Season of being the only single gal at gatherings and neverending “Sooooooo, how’s your love life?!?”s. While I don’t mind sharing my dating shitshow stories in the least, it can also be deflating. If I have to hear “OhmyGAWD, I’m SO glad I don’t have to deal with dating any more.” one more time, someone’s gonna get a bacon-wrapped date where the sun don’t shine.

‘Tis the Season of sappy jewelry commercials that invoke single-girl emotional death spirals. After seeing them, I can’t help but imagine all my coupled-up friends having fireside chocolate and wine and gifting their ladies diamond tennis bracelets… while I’ll be on the couch in my UGA sweats watching Love Actually and eating my feelings in Rolos.

‘Tis the Season of being the last consideration when it comes to family gatherings and travel arrangements. If you have no family of your own, it’s automatically assumed you’ll go with the majority rule. The only way around that is to grow a pair, speak up, and say that you’re doing your own thing this year. Which I did.

‘Tis the Season of FUCK YOU, MISTLETOE. Maybe I should start full-body tackling any single man that walks within 5ft of that make-out malarkey. That might work to score me a date, no?

‘Tis the Season of the bleeding checkbook.  Giving gifts to a single person is easy. One person, one gift. But giving gifts AS a single? We wind up spending double to reciprocate gifts given to us by couples. It hurts the single-income wallet.

But on the other hand… as a single…

‘Tis the Season of not having to haul around a monstrously big tree. A friend of mine we’ll call FreakFlag got stuck playing Catch the Tree while her husband shoved a 7-footer over the rail of their back deck. It was all fun and games until the stump landed directly on her big toe. Gee, that sounds like fun. Yeah, no thanks.  I stuck an inanimate pretty thing on my counter, hung two stockings on my front door, slapped a string of lights over my outside entrance and called it a day.


‘Tis the Season of not having to fight with any in-laws over who’s going where this year, how much to spend on each cousin under the age of 13, or any other nonsense that stirs up hurt feelings and drama. Y’all have fun with that. I’ll be over here sexting with the other lonely singles.

‘Tis the Season of baking…but only if I want to.  There are no daycare/school parties requiring cookies and no neighborhood block parties demanding banana/pumpkin bread. And if I do choose to bake, people are all… whoa, look what the single girl did! You’d think I didn’t have opposing thumbs.

‘Tis the Season of not being required to send cards. I will say that I appreciate the friends that remember that I’m alive this time of year, because it is sweet to be included in their address list. But no one seems to mind if single people don’t send cards.  I personally do, but I stick with something funny/snarky. Like this.


‘Tis the Season to gift yourself! So what if no one is giving me bling? See those boots? I want em. Hmm, that Coach bag is gorgeous. It shall be mine. I probably would have spent a ridiculous amount on a significant other, so why not treat myself? More, why let all these sales go to waste??

‘Tis the Season of freedom. Singles can travel! Last year I spent New Year’s Eve in California. This year, New York, are you ready for me?!?!  My friend NotMary is grabbing the chance to take a trip to Haiti, just because she can. Cool, right?

Well hell, y’all.  Overall, I think the goods outweigh the bads. And if the bads are really bad this year?  There’s always alcohol.

Lots and lots of alcohol.

So tell me.  Single or taken, what are the most annoying things about the holidays for YOU?

The Girl Code

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Whoever thought up that saying needs to be punched in the dick. Because you know it was a man.*

All is NOT fair in love and war when you’re jello-wrestling with a question like, “Is it ever okay to date someone who used to date your friend?”.

In the world of dating, I believe in the Girl Code. The Girl Code is the tacit but firm agreement within unmarried female friendships that states the following: Any man your friend is seeing is off limits, including if/when they ever break up. Period.  “Seeing” can mean any of the following: seriously dating, casually dating, sleeping with, about-to-be sleeping with, or any combination of the four.  The Girl Code is the equivalent of “Bros Before H*s” for our prettier gender.  There is no gray area in this previously undiscovered Eleventh Commandment: “Thou shalt not trespass onto the privates of your girlfriends’ man, present or former.”  He should be dead to you, at least romantically. The feelings of your girlfriends come first and always.

So, if your friend started seeing someone you may have been interested in, how could you successfully flip the switch from lusty pursuer to indifferent acquaintance? My method has been that the man was immediately and without hesitation thrown directly into Ugly Friend Zone. What’s that? Here’s an example: When I was once pondering what he looked like shirtless, then I’m now imagining that he’s hairier than Sasquatch and has severe backne. I’ve made him as unappealing as possible in my mind, because there is just no sense in torturing myself. UFZ has worked for me so far.

Until recently. A man who dated a friend of mine previously has expressed interest in me.  Eeek.

It’s been a humbling lesson to learn that things are never as black and white as we wish. Let me throw out some hypotheticals.  For instance, what if your friend dated him a long time ago? Does the passage of years soften the harshness of seeing the same person?  Or, what if she dated him very briefly, very recently, but has moved on?   Do you take the approach, “Well, they were never really serious.” and go forth in pursuit? If so, what is the proverbial line that defines whether they were “serious” or not? Exclusivity? Sex??? Does it make it better or worse if the man is the one doing the pursuing? What if your friend swears to you that it’s fine for you to date him? How do you know she really means it? Does this entire question all depend on individual circumstances and personalities?


I may not personally have answers to the above mindfuck, but I’m certain that there is one very crucial non-negotiable when it comes to the Girl Code: Honesty between friends. Regardless of whether you’ve been close for years or for months, open communication has to happen. Be up front with her and for heaven’s sake, do not lie. Yes, it sucks to be an adult, but you need put on your big girl panties and deal with it before anything really icky happens. Understand that you may be stirring up old hurts or creating new ones and your friend may not react well. But if your friend is a good one she’ll be honest, even if it’s not the answer you want to hear. And if YOU are a good friend you’ll respect her choice either way.

In the end, its not complicated. It all comes down to the fact that your friends matter.  They’ll be the ones that pick up your little heart pieces when the idiot stomps on it. They’ll be the ones that get you without you having to saying a word. They will be the ones that stick by you, no matter the geographical distance.  They will be the ones who will one day walk down the aisle in an ugly dress for you, cry joyful tears with you when your kids are born, and be there for you during every shitty thing life is going to throw at you. Don’t do anything in the moment that could damage a lifetime.

So, is it ever okay to date someone that your friend used to see? The answer depends on three things:

  1. Honesty.
  2. How your friend feels about it.
  3. How you feel about it.

As for me? I’ve completed number 1 and know the answer to number 2. But I still haven’t figured out number 3.  Wish me luck.

*Of course I was right.


Day 23: Say Yes. (most of the time)

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The strong caffeine warmed us while we sat close to one another on the coffee shop sofa. Legs touching, our fingers were linked as we talked about a four-mile trail run I’d committed to do the next morning even though I’d never done any trail running prior. He asked why I agreed.

I didn’t reply that I’m just kind of an idiot, or that I’m having a quarter(+)-life crisis, or that I’m kind of in a place right now where I want to tackle everything.

Instead what came out of my mouth was, “Sometimes it’s fun to see what happens when you just say yes.”.

I could tell by the mischievous twinkle in his eyes he was delighted with that answer.

Of course, you KNOW that statement came back to haunt me later on in the evening. After a few wonderfully steamy first-date kisses goodnight, he boldly asked if I wanted to go back to his place. Still in his arms, I politely declined, using the trail run as my reason for bowing out early.  He kissed me gently again. “Come on,” he said. “Sometimes it’s fun to see what happens when you just say yes.” Then his lips curved into an impossibly charming grin.

I give the guy credit. He may have only been 24, but he was a smart 24.

I still said no.

But looking back, my own yes-related words surprised me.  I didn’t know that yes-ing was what I’ve been doing until the statement was said aloud.  In a hipster coffee shop. On a first date. With someone ten years my junior.

Yes, you read that correctly.

And you know what? I am saying yes a lot more. It feels damn good.  I’m living again.  I’m doing what I promised myself I would do – putting myself first for once in my damn life and just trying to BE HAPPY. And in order to do that, I’ve had to stop being afraid to try new things. I’ve had to be brave and figure out what *I* want and put it out there for all the world to see. It’s meant letting go of fear and of no longer finding excuses not to try something new – like trail running. See also: Riding a motorcycle. Speed-dating. Going to Vegas. Running a race in a tutu. Going to Portland. Going to Camp Mighty. Or yes, knowingly going on a date with someone ten years younger than me. Because really… just… why the fuck not?

What in the world do I have to lose? Not a damn thing.

And no, there hasn’t been a second date.  That’s okay. I have plenty of other things lined up to say yes to.