Archive for the ‘What Is Not’ Category

You’ve done a truly shitty thing.  Karma will be as much of a bitch to you as you have been to another.  I was not asked to do this, and I imagine that if I said I was going to do this before I did it, I’d be asked not to, because she’s a truly nice person.  I usually am, myself.  Right now, in this particular instant…I’m not.  I’m not a nice person right now, and I do not care about your feelings.  In fact, in my dark place, I’m hoping this hurts.

You fucked with one of my best friend’s heads with your bullshit.  You consciously, knowingly, willingly did it.  And if you didn’t, then just know all your actions after the fact are pointing to the idea that you did.  This makes you a horrible person, and I hope some day, you know, in a very personal manner, the pain you’ve caused.  The kinds of emotional wounds you’ve inflicted take a long time to heal.

Somehow, I doubt this will bother you…I don’t think you’re a decent enough person for it to.  If you are, you will surprise me and at least contact her and come clean with her and apologize.  I don’t believe you will, but I’m enough of an optimist to hope that you might prove me wrong.

If not…well, like I said.  Karma’s a bitch.  And you will know this pain, someday…three-fold.


–Jeremy Thomas


Read Full Post »

Hello love,

We sure did go through a lot in our 13 months together. The courting stage, spending every moment together. You driving 30 minutes across town to spend a few hours with me, only to drive home and get a few hours sleep before you had to work. The unsure feeling if we should be together if I ever planned to go back home.

Meeting your daughter for the first time before she had her Bronchoscopy, finding the bleeding in her lungs. Moving and driving three days across country, only to find out she needed a heart transplant. Turning around and making the whole trip over again, back to the place we were fleeing from in the first place. Waiting for the pager to go off. It going off two weeks after her fifth birthday, and me having to calm you down, letting you know everything was going to be alright.

Her father leaving her, when she needed him the most. I tried hard to fill the void of her absentee father. Though, doing a pretty poor job of it, I wouldn’t trade it for the world. I can still remember very vividly sitting next to her in the hospital, stroking her hair and holding her hand. Not wanting to leave you alone there at night, but having to work to get us a place to live. Driving straight back after work to sleep with you on the small pull out bed, waking up every hour when the nurse came in.

Moving in to our small apartment and trying to make it our home. Walking home from work and looking to see if your car was here, so I would know if a beautiful smile and a warm hug were waiting for me. I still do that to this day. I am forced to walk past the place where we had our first date. I look in the window and imagine seeing you there, sipping your Chai latte. To shy to even look at me. I wish I could start all over again. I would certainly jump up and down when you arrived.

I think about the child we never had. I wonder what it would have been, a boy or a girl. What would we have named it. I also, remember the hurt I felt when you said “this is why I would never have your baby”. I never told you that I would have kept it if you wanted to. I knew that we were in no place to have a child. Not with one needing a heart transplant, us unsure where we would live. You not being able to work, so you could take care of her. You had to focus on that. I don’t blame you for not having the baby.

The fights we had were the worst. I loved (still love) you so much. Seeing you angry at me, knowing that it was me who caused it. It seemed that at times when you needed me to be there for you, I would fuck up most. I’m angry at myself for failing to change. I knew you needed me to, I knew if I could it would make things better. I don’t know why I didn’t. I do know that if I had a chance now that I would do anything to make it better. No sacrifice would be too much. If I could just feel you in my arms again. Stroke your hair, and pull out the hair pins while you fall asleep. Its trite to say, but you make me want to be a better man.

Through all the bad things we faced we certainly did have some wonderful times though. We made the best of every moment. The drive across country, getting thrown out of your “friend’s” basement to have the best night in a shitty hotel room complete with blood on the wall. Seeing your daughter take her first steps after her transplant to go to the play room.  In every bad situation there was always a shimmer of light just being with you.
When we broke up, I said it was because I saw what I was doing to you. The pain I was causing you and I wanted it to stop, because I loved you enough to do that. I can see now that I love you enough to do anything to stop that pain. Instead of letting you go I wish I could have stopped doing what I was doing so we could be together. Find the peace and serenity in our relationship. You holding me, is all I would need. I would be completely and totally honest with you. The only reason I withheld anything from my past is because I feared that you wouldn’t love me. I failed to realize that not being honest kept you from loving me fully.

Most of all, I’m really sorry about what I said when I called you after our relationship had ended. I called you that night having a panic attack because I knew that you were hanging out with another guy. Even though you maintained throughout our relationship that you never wanted to date him, I feared that you were just saying that. When you “ended” your friendship with him due to my uneasy feelings, I believed you didn’t like him that way. You were just very quick to be friends with him again after I said that I believed you and it must really mean you didn’t want him. I called crying, pouring my heart out to you, and when you wouldn’t be honest with me as to where you were, I felt betrayed. I know you were drunk and couldn’t come see me right then. It was your seemingly uncaring and lying about where you were that made think you were “with” him. So, after three hours waiting for you to show up, leaving the door unlocked while I slept. I awoke four hours later and felt like you cheated on me. I said horrible things, I wish, but know I can never take back.

You said that if it was truly about me loving you I would never be able to say those things to you. Well, it was LOVING you and feeling betrayed, feeling like you chose him over me after I poured my heart out for you, begging you to come back to me. That I said those things. Now all I hope to do is let you know that I really did love you, I still love you, and will always love you. Even if it means we can never be together.

Love, as always.


Read Full Post »


I wonder now how often you think of us. If the bruises have faded enough that touching the memory of our time together brings you something sweeter than the end – something like the applause you got in a restaurant at two am when you proposed a toast to me to the entire dining room on what may, or may not have been our six month anniversary. I am two sentences into this letter, and already in tears. For years, people have known of you only by vague reference. My first fiancee (now the first of two failed engagements), or by quick anecdotes, referenced and put away before they can ask me: do you still love him?


I crushed your every hope of our life together – the life where your mother made my wedding dress and you invited the people from your company that I would see later on dinner cruises, perched on your arm like a hawk. Bird of prey, hooded, with leather wrapped round my ankles, trained to return to your call. I was not ready to be put on display – and not in the way you may have thought. In a world where so much of your first impression was me on your arm, me hosting dinner parties for your co-workers, me as your wife…I knew I would fail and fall short.

You thought it would be so simple as a quick act, put on these clothes, speak this way, just until they’re gone. Put forth the image the cage door is locked and step outside when no one is looking. Pretend that your wildness is the kind that can be hooded and put to hunt…let show them how watching you catch rabbits is a gentleman’s game. But that wasn’t the kind of wildness that sunk its teeth into me and curled around my heart.

Robbed of stripes, I would still be a tiger. Without the bold orange markings I could look sophisticated, domesticated in basic black – black velvet cocktail dress, black strappy high heels that I could push into the edge of elegant, manicured nails on hands trained to mix a perfect martini. I would have to put them on to hide the claws, put on a mask to hide the eyes, and put on a show of compliance.

Until they found out. Until they saw me prowl through the embittered short-cropped lawn of the corporate office with trees forced into alien shapes too stubby to provide cover. Until the congregation of your church found out I sank to my knees before an altar not dedicated to their god and offered my blood up with incense and prayers. And your mother…no amount of camouflage could cover my pale skin, no matter how long I spent lying in the sun, no one would ever mistake me for a child of Africa. And that, as she made clear, was a thing irreconcilable with what she wanted for you. Your grandmother asked me once if I had refused to have sex yet with you because you were black. Here I am, trying to summon up the courage to lose my virginity after a sexually abusive relationship and there was your family throwing that into it.

To say nothing of how I held my tongue while your mother criticized my family. The harsh judgement she waited for, the jokes, the hatred, the resentment…if she could accept other people for who they were and not the color of their skin, maybe she could have understood that other people in the world have been past it for years, children raised never taught to judge her like she judged them. It made for a tense conversation to say the least, about what kind of bridal lace I liked most my wondering if she would ever think of me as family while she wondered when I would betray you.

It wasn’t your mother. Oh, I hated watching her watch me, and I hated knowing what she thought of me, but you were worth the awkward family dinners. It was everything together, all of the thousand expectations of perfection. It was knowing that I couldn’t pretend forever without a slip somewhere – betraying that the wild had crept into me with the water of the creek I played in as a child; that with tolerance came the mother who told me stories about protests and civil disobedience and taught me to speak for what I believed in, loudly and without shame; that with compassion came the need to protect whatever I could of the world; that the molten gold in my eyes could not be untangled from poetry that could not be read at board meetings.

I would have ruined you. And somewhere you knew that. You didn’t care. You fell in love with a tiger for a reason. You were drawn to the wildness, the poems, the way I saw the world – and you thought nothing was worth giving that up. You would have watched the castle crumble around us and then your soul snag and unravel against the sharp edges on my teeth and claws, and you would have still meant it when you told me that our love was worth anything.

I left you you because I was not worth your soul, because love should not devour dreams, because our love should protect us both. I let it protect you when I told you it was over. I lied when I told you I didn’t love you. I died when you condemned me for it. I left you because I loved you more than I loved myself, because I cherished your dreams with the same violent ferocity I cherished my own. I left because there was no right answer to the question of which of us had to break to fit.  I left because no matter who gave, the jagged edges left behind would shred the other. I left because love is absolute even when the sacrifices it demands are brutal. I left because it was the one thing you couldn’t do. I left you because you reminded me I was a tiger, and tigers are strong enough to do anything.

Read Full Post »


I will begin this letter by saying I will always be grateful that faced with me on your lap, threatening to do all manner of delicious things to you while my boyfriend (and your ex-boyfriend) pounded on the door, you chose to tell me that you would like that. For someone as painfully self conscious as you were to come out at all, much less under those circumstances, isn’t an easy thing at all.

And I want to thank you for being one of my only lovers to take me on dates. Walking through old historic towns, park swings, homemade ice cream cones dripping in the summer heat. Most made the assumption that because I could kiss strangers I didn’t appreciate love, that because I refused to have another monogamous relationship I wanted meaningless sex. You never made a single incorrect assumption, save perhaps one. And that wasn’t your fault, if I led you to make it, I am sorry for that.

We didn’t have much time together, only a few months before I moved away, and I’m sorry for that too. I’m sorry for the year that you waited, with dates you cut short to come home and call me. “I couldn’t do it,” you told me, over a continent and an ocean. “He wasn’t you. I want you.” And so I came back for you, but I came back scarred in ways I hadn’t been when I left. I came back unwilling to touch, to cuddle, to kiss – and you had finally worked up the courage to risk those things. When you reached out to me and I flinched away…I’m sorry for that too. It was never because I didn’t love you. It wasn’t because I didn’t think you were beautiful. You with your gorgeous eyes and your sharp fox nose. I always thought your nose was the cutest thing, and I have never lusted after anyone else for their nose. So you weighed twice what I did – I was anorexic! It’s hardly a fair comparison. You were beautiful then, and you are now. Especially when you smile.

I’m sorry for the two years that we struggled to reconnect – I should have stayed the first time. I shouldn’t have let shock and grief steal me away from you. I should have fought to stay, should have tried. I should have run away with you to get married. I should have left him sooner, because I never loved him like I loved you, I just knew that he wanted to possess me, to have me, to keep me, and I thought that I would be safe with someone who wanted all me. You did, but I didn’t see it. He didn’t, and I didn’t understand until I was too broken to fight with him. But you left him. You were strong enough for that. You left when he first stung you, but you always said I was the brave one. I wasn’t.

When you did end it, in the safe distance of an IM, I wasn’t angry. I’d already told people we weren’t dating anymore after the second month you returned not a call, not an e-mail, not a text message, not an attempt to reach you over IM. I wish you’d been able to do it sooner, but I know why you didn’t. “Don’t be sorry, you loved me when no one else did, and I’m never sorry for anything I’ve done in the past because it’s helped put me here, and I’m very very happy with where I’m at now.” You wrote that when I apologized to you just after you said it was over, and had been. Earlier, you told me I had taught you how to love again.

Congratulations, again, on your wedding. The pictures were fantastic. You were happy. Glowing. Radiant. It’s what I had always wanted for you. I had just always hoped it would be with me.

And there are the words I never told you. I never let you know just how much it hurt to lose you. I glossed over it, brushed it off as done, told you you were a beautiful bride. I never snapped at you. Never tried to make you consider that once I had waited and coaxed and trusted, until you felt beautiful and loved – and that when I came back damaged you were too busy to even try to reach out for me.

It isn’t what matters anyway. It isn’t the part of it I ever wanted you to hear. Not about the way I looked forward to the dates you couldn’t make, the flowers that wilted for you on my kitchen table in fragrant reminder you had cancelled again for weeks. Nor about the fact that you were the most important person in my life and my friends knew that, but you hadn’t mentioned my existence to yours.

I never pushed you when I came back. I just laid back, closed my eyes, waited for the rain and knew that love was forever. It was enduring. It was the only real thing in the world. I was willing to wait, if you were busy. I was willing to smile when you hurt me. I think it was my unquestioned faith in your love that let you think that I didn’t still love you. It would be the only time you ever read me wrong. And as I said in the beginning, I’m sorry for that too.

All of my love,



Read Full Post »

Stay Calm!

Patience people! This site has doozers on the job. You remember them, the little workers on Fraggle Rock? Well, when you’re that tiny, these things take time!

Content will be added a.s.a.p.

Promise 🙂

In the meantime, checkout a couple of my favourite bloggers in the side bar!

Melinda Chambers

Read Full Post »