What the fuck is a consistent friend to me right now; a real and steadfast companion.
It appears all the time; when you remember that he’s in your graduation photos… what the fuck?
When you find old valentines day cards so dense with writing it’s like a modern day love letter; what the fuck?
When you remember that the entire fabric of your adult life has to be ripped apart and rewoven into a kind of new tapestry that bears no resemblance to what you recall, and half of your memories and stories will be taboo for the first few months of any new relationship because they all involve him? What the fucking fuck?
And, of course, when he calls you crying; what the ever loving, sideways facing, upside down fuck?
So, I bought a valentines day card in January (organised right?) before this all went down, and I wrote it, and I tucked it in a drawer to be retrieved later, and of course I forgot about it in the meltdown of the 8 to 9 year relationship that has defined every aspect of my life until now. In fact, it’s still doing that for some reason.
Hell, I ran away from a perfectly good man because the though of being vulnerable so soon after this made me want to vomit, shit, and scream all at once (lovely, right?)… though to be fair, who could have expected someone looking for immediate relationship status on POF? Not me.
Not me, guys.
Anyway, I digress.
So now I feel like shit; a grade A arsehole, because that’s the kind of manipulative shit people expect from women in a break-up and I’ve done it by accident… What the fuck? I mean I don’t want to hurt him, I don’t want to make him miserable, but surely I am not the right person to call when upset right now?
I’ve got more new scars than empty bottles right now, and I’ve never been emotionally expressive at the best of times. I’m tactile, and that’s definitely off the menu.
So, yes, “what the fuck” is a continual companion to me right now, and I’d hazard a guess I’m not alone in that. There’s nothing new under the sun, after all, and if nothing else I’m not vain enough to think I’m unique…
So, ladies, gents, persons… can I get a collective what the fuck from everyone who just cannot imagine being a functional, helpful human being right now? I need a head count… for science.