AmeriCAN-DO Attitude

Are you an AmeriCAN or an AmeriCAN'T?

10 Years Lost on You

I’ve had this written over and over in my mind. Many times in an angry tone, many times in a depressive tone, many times yelling at you, many times yelling at myself. I’ve written it in my mind while laying in bed trying to fall asleep. I’ve written it in my mind while driving on my way to work. I’ve written it after reading your e-mails the last 2 weeks and hearing your voicemail message. I’ve written it after reading a friend’s advice on how I am living my life and dealing with relationships. I’ve written it every time I think about sitting down and e-mailing you or calling you back. I guess it’s time I have finally actually put this down on paper – or, uh, computer screen – instead of continuing to torture myself in my own mind and heart and soul.

I’m 99.9 percent certain I will never tell you this. I’ll never send this to you, never e-mail it to you and never call you to tell you this on the phone. If you happen to come across this in your various surfing of the web and of my websites, so be it. But there is really no nice way to say any of this, so I have decided it is best to not say it to you at all. But, considering I am driving myself mad with this all roaming around in my mind on a daily basis, I figured getting it out might help ease my mind, heart and soul, as writing poems has done that for me in the past. Considering this topic is none too good for a poem, stream of consciousness rambling here on my blog will have to do…


I honestly do not even know where to start. I guess this is as good a place as any, since it is what got me to wake up from my 10 year delusional haze and see reality:

“You sell yourself WAY too short. And you need to start working on your self worth. I can tell you a hundred times a day how good looking and smart you are, but I can’t make you believe it. There’s that horse again. You realized years ago she was just using you, especially your sweetness and kindness??? WHAT kind of person would do that to another human being? More importantly, what kind of person would allow it?

That last question hit hard. I had asked myself that question time and time again during the last 10 years, but yet it never sunk in. I’m not sure why it finally sunk in this time. Maybe it helped seeing it from someone else, who really had no emotional interest in the situation. Maybe I just finally had gotten to my limit in dealing with all of this inside. Whatever it was, it hit me hard in the gut. And I finally realized that the past 10 years were as much my own fault as I felt they were yours. In fact, they were probably 90 percent my fault, since, no matter how badly someone treats another person, if that person continues to put themselves in the same situation over and over again, the blame lies with them. I continued to allow myself to be taken advantage of, to be treated like an old blanket which was desired and cherished when life was cold, only to be thrown aside when life was good again. The problem is that I am not an old warm blanket, but a person with feelings and a heart and emotions and needs and desires of my own. I needed a warm blanket of my own. And while I may have imagined that you provided that for me, in reality, you never did anything of the sort. And yet, I continued to allow myself to be used. I continued to see the best in you, even though you treated me like dirt. As my friend asks, what kind of person would do that to another? How could I continue to see you as this great person, when here you were treating me like I was nothing? And what kind of person have I been the past 10 years to continue to allow this to happen? How delusional was I to create this alternate reality of whom you were as a person, while I was experiencing first-hand you being the opposite of such a person? For 10 fucking years!?


You said that you were no different than any other friend who was out of State that I don’t see. But that’s not true at all and has never been true. First of all, looking back, we were never actually friends. At least not how I define friends. Friendly acquaintances or pen pals, maybe. But friends… no. The way I see friends is that they are people on whom I can depend when I need someone. Dave and Derek. They are my true friends. In my darkest times, they were there for me. When I was pathetic over a girl treating me the same way as you have for 10 years, they were there for me. They came to make sure I was not alone. They listened to me whine, listened to me complain, listened to me cry. And they never judged me for it. They helped me get through it. And they worked hard to stay in my life even when I got distant and pushed them away, because I felt I needed to be alone and not have anyone in my life, because I wasn’t deserving. They were and are true friends, more true than I have ever had in my life. I don’t know where I would be without them. They were the first *real* friends in my life. They were the first time I had anything real in my life. Real friendship. Real comraderie. Real companionship.

But us… no, we’ve never been real. Nothing about us has been real. Not our ‘love’, not our ‘friendship’, nothing. Over the past 10 years, I can think of no time when you have been there for me when I needed someone. When I needed you. When I needed you those many years ago when you were in college, you told me that you couldn’t talk to me for the rest of the month, because you had to concentrate on schooling. Yeah, thanks a lot. When we got back in touch for the 3rd or 4th time after a long layoff and I said that I could handle us talking again and tried my fucking damndest not to allow myself to “fall” for you again, yet I did anyway, you again left me after we started getting too close and I started getting too serious. I said I was trying not to think of us talking again as “us”, but … and then you said, you felt that way too. You felt we were an “us” again. And then I fell hard again for you. But, just like the last time, you took my heart and ran away, leaving me in shambles. Some friend.

And then I look back at the last 10 years and think about when have I been there for you when you needed me. Well, I was there when you talked about your rape and loss of your baby. I wanted to be there with you that first Christmas when you said you needed someone, but you rejected me, told me not to come. I wanted to be there for you when you said your rapist was back in your life and you were thinking about going to the cops. But you rejected me and actually were more kind to the rapist guy who came to your door with a gift rather than with me on the phone with you. You have no idea how much that hurt me. No idea. Looking back, that should have been when I dumped you from my life forever. But of course…

Nicole finds me on yahoo messenger out of the blue and tells me you are in the hospital down in Florida and have attempted suicide. She said she thought that you would really like to hear from me. That you keep a picture of me in your room for comfort. She almost begged me to call you and see if you would talk to me to try to cheer you up. I put aside all my past anger and frustration with you and immediately called you. I wanted to be there for you, but I knew I couldn’t, but was hoping that the phone call(s) would be good. All the while, I was still angry, still frustrated, still remembered all you had done to me in the past, all I had allowed you to do to me in the past, and yet, I still wanted to be there for you. I still let myself get sucked back in.

And then hearing your sweet voice on the other end of the phone and hearing you happy to hear from me was like music to my ears and heart. And I fell for your song all over again… Only to once again be thrown aside. You wrapped me around you to keep warm in your time of strife, but then it was back to floor of the closet when you didn’t need me anymore. And my heart broke once again. And my heart hardened once again.

Months or maybe over a year later, you contact me again. Out of the blue, sweet talk me by saying you hear songs which remind you of me and you remember my voice on the phone. As much as my heart was hardened and broken in the past, somehow, some way I allow you to build it up again and soften it up once again. We reminisce, we laugh, we’re close like old times. Only to end the same. As soon as I let my guard down and allow myself to feel anything for you again, you are gone from my life, as quickly as you had returned. Once again, again, leaving my life and heart in shambles. Some friend.

Yet, still, I don’t learn my lesson. I’m apparently not hurt or destroyed enough inside to realize I need to cut you from my life forever. We have nothing, yet still I’m hanging on to this delusional idea of whom you are as a person. You prove over and over to me that I mean as much to you as a piece of dirt, yet some delusional part of my mind creates some idealistic idea of you as this wonderful, loving, caring, passionate, compassionate person who could be my “One”.

And I go back to my friend’s question… what kind of fucked up person am I to do this to myself… for 10 fucking years!?


For the past 10 years, I have somehow imagined you as my “One”. I told you I’d wait for you, however long it took, and that I would marry you when you came back from Africa or when you came back from your second trip to Germany. I said it half in jest, half serious at the time, but I think I convinced myself inside that I was sincere and held onto that thought for 10 years. I compared every girl I dated to the image I had of you. Whenever I got serious with someone, I always took a step back and compared them to you… or the you I had created in my mind and heart. No one ever matched up to that person. And a part of me was always waiting for the time we got back in touch when you would tell me you wanted to be with me. Only that time never came…


Every time we got back in touch, after a year, after months, after just meaningless e-mails about sports or “how are you? I’m fine. okay I gotta go, hope you’re good!”… every time I would see your name in my inbox and my heart would skip a beat. Every time my heartbeat would increase and all the memories would come back. The year we first started talking, listening to you sigh and whisper on the phone as you fell asleep with me, remembering the sweet cards you sent me with lyrics from Creed. It all came back to me in a flash, like I imagine life flashes before someone’s eyes when they die. My heart would fill up with these memories and images while at the same time my mind would remind me of all the hurt and tell me to be careful and don’t put myself through all that again. But I never listened to my head and let my heart lead me to more heartache and more pain…

You would tell me about all your different friends all over in college and all over Wisconsin and Minnesota. You would travel all over for work and to see friends in college. You would travel all over for family in Florida and the East coast for vacations and to see friends. You travelled to skydive and other fun things. Yet, whenever I had asked to come visit you, you always rejected me. When I asked you why you traveled all over the country visiting friends and family, yet never came to see me, the only thing you said was “well, what is there to even do in Detroit”? Never did I ever ask what there was even to do in Appleton, Wisconsin, because I didn’t care. I wanted to see you. I wanted to be with you. I would not have cared if we did nothing but sit and stare at the wall for an entire weeked, at least I would have been sitting next to you, holding your hand and staring at the wall… with you. Yet, this was not your focus. You proved to me with that statement that you didn’t care to be with me, to meet me, to spend time with me in order to be around me… no, being with me was not enough, you had to have another reason to come to Detroit other than to see someone whom you made me believe was one of your most important friends in your life. Apparently, I wasn’t that important afterall. And I finally realize that I have *never* been that important.


Amazing how you actually thought that by telling me you sometimes had thought about what our lives would have been like had we gotten together years ago as we had talked about, that it would make me feel good. Well, just so you know, it did not. It made me feel like shit. Because I knew that had we gotten together, we would have been married and had children together by now. While that’s a happy thought to think about in theory, it’s a depressing thought to know that I don’t have that with you right now, because you refused to even meet me. It’s also angering because you don’t bring that up to suggest that maybe we still have a shot at making that happen, you just bring it up to bring it up and then completely dismiss the subject. What the fuck was that all about? Then, after we have that deep conversation, you don’t talk to me again for months, because hey, you’re a busy person with work and everything else. No time for Mikey. Wonderful. Just make my heart swoon thinking about what could of been and then just drive a knife through that dream, twist and turn and wrench it to destroy my heart again. Once again leaving my life in shambles, while you go on your happy merry way thinking that revealing that little tid bit was supposed to make me feel good. Thanks a lot.


And I still didn’t understand until now why you talked about our chances being in the past, as if we were on our death beds and had no chance of ever being together, because it was too late. Too late? I’m almost 33 and you’re… who knows how old. 26? 29? Who knows. When we first talked, I thought you were 19, which would make you 29 now, but you say you’re 28. However I found you on and you say you graduated High School in 2000, which would have made you 18 in 2000 and 16 in 1998 when we ‘met’. So who the fuck knows how old you are. Regardless, how on earth is 26 or 28 or 29 or 32 too late? Unless of course, which I finally figured out, you have known all along that you never wanted to get together with me and have just been stringing me along all this time. Keeping me stuck on you, keeping me ‘in love’ with you, so that you can call on me whenever you need an old friend to stroke your ego, an old blanket to keep you warm through cold times in life, and then conveniently discard when your life is back to normal again. Yeah, I knew this all along, but my stupid image I had created of you clashed with this reality and my heart told me that no way could you possibly be this cold and heartless and mean. Well, thankfully, reality has finally sunk in and I realize you are this cold and heartless and mean, and have been all along. I just refused to see it.


To be continued…


I look back and still can’t believe I allowed myself to ignore all the signs. You refused to send me a picture of you. I had never known what you looked like until I just happened upon a small picture on your Facebook profile that I just came across a couple weeks ago. 10 years and you’ve never wanted me to know what you look like. At the same time being quite happy asking me for pictures of me. (Speaking of which, you have yet to take the 2 seconds to accept me as your friend on there, even though you did take the time to go on to your profile and change the profile picture. Another sign of you giving me a nice big *fuck you* that I probably would have ignored for the past 10 years, but no longer. That message was received loud and clear. You have plenty of time to approve the 100+ of your other friends on there, but no time to approve me. I’m nothing. I’m dirt. Gotcha.)

You also refused to give me your address. Yet you asked for mine. Which I was more than happy to give. I gave you my Purdue address and then the address to my apartment in Michigan, so you could send me cards. Yet you never included a return address. I could never send you anything. When you did finally give me an address, it was for Nicole’s place in college, not yours. No picture, no address, no coming to see you, no coming to see me. Yet, I was stupid enough to believe you when you said I was one of your good and close friends. What a fucking dipshit I was… for 10 fucking years!


You told me your mom called you a bitch. Or that you were acting like a bitch. One of the two. Can’t remember now. Doesn’t really matter. But I have to agree with her. In fact, aside from the few times where you took advantage of my kindess and sweetness and got me to “fall” for you, you have been nothing but a cold-hearted, self-centered, mean, heartless bitch with me. Everything has always been about you. We’re always talking on your time, on your schedule. You always have to tell me how busy you are, so that I am to feel honored that you are taking time out of your life to speak to a worthless piece of dirt like me. I gotta wonder now if you treated your fiance like this, then it is no wonder he cheated on you. Sure, he’s scum and a coward for not breaking it off before going out with someone else, but I don’t blame him for wanting to be with someone else if you were this much of a cold-hearted, emotionless bitch when around him. Basically treating him like he was unnecessary to your busy-busy-busy life and was just an accessory, like a purse or a cell phone. Of course, you said yourself you didn’t really want to be with him, but were just with him apparently, because you didn’t think you could get anyone else. However, who even knows what you actually want. You are too busy keeping yourself busy to even stop and take a break and enjoy life and love. (Oh wait, that’s right, you do stop and enjoy life with your friends and party and drink and travel and everything, you just don’t bother to stop and take time for me. Gotta remember, I am a special case.)

Granted, maybe you don’t even want that. When I asked you why you were with him, instead of giving me substantial answers like he was a good man, and he would be a good husband and father and he made you laugh and he treated you well and made you feel special and made you want to be a better person and he was your friend… you gave me superficial crap like he was fun and he would do fun things with you and he was good looking. Oh, well then! There’s the makings of a long-term relationship! Same old bullshit from women I hear, now coming from you. Say they want one thing and then whom do they settle for? The complete fucking opposite. Only to turn around and blame all men for their own mistakes, while complaining to us decent men that there are none of us out there. Uh, fucking Hello!? Remember who the fuck you’re talking to here.

I guess I expected more from you based on what I had built you up to be. But again, I was wrong. I should not have expected anything more, considering what type of person you are, were and always had been. It was my own fault for creating a false image and then being let down when the reality didn’t meet the image. Still fucking irritating to find yet another fucking woman fall into the typical stereotype of a woman saying she wants one thing and then settling for much less. Actions speak louder than words. Something I should have been taking to heart with you years ago and paying attention to your actions and not your words. Ironically enough, I did the same thing with you as you did with your fiance. I sat here and settled for a non-existent friendship… for 10 fucking years… instead of being a man and having some common fucking sense to get myself out of a bad situation. Which again goes back to my friend’s question… what the fuck kind of fucked up person would put himself through this and deal with this crap… for 10 fucking years? In the end, this situation says more about me than it does about you, because you’re not the one who pretended to be someone you were not. You were a cold-hearted, mean, self-centered, heartless bitch this entire time. It was my own fault for pretending you were not… *****


November 16, 2008 , 12:44AM - Posted by | Life, Love, Relationships, Romance

Sorry, the comment form is closed at this time.

%d bloggers like this: