Recently (note: two days ago) I joined a weight loss site, and they have a blog system on there. I sort of love it. I love you still, but I have been in a weird place with you lately where i don't know where to go.
I'm here to fix that.
Today, on the weightloss site, I found a place for journal entries... and since I never do anything in private (I love being a blogger) I thought I'd post my first Journal entry here. Also, it's kind of a big deal what happened...
Here ya' go:
You have never before existed, except in that awful thing I finally threw away from sixth or so grade where I write horrible stories about mermaids and talk about how much I love Ian and Derrick... Thank you for letting me start clean. Although you provided a good laugh to my friends when I randomly would find you, you embarrassed the poo outta me, I can't have that happen again.
Also, sixth grade Denise, thank you for growing up, but being hilarious while you existed. I am not proud of being you, but I adore you for your hilarity.
What is there to talk about but the men I love???
Now I am realizing how ironically embarrassing it is to have a journal, start to write a post about how lame I was, and then be more lame once I actually get to what I wanted to post about.
God, I'm a big pile of entertainment and embarrassment all wrapped up in a cute little internet package for myself ten years from now who will still be worrying about boys and how to fit her boobs into cute clothes without looking like a hussy...
Ten years from now Denise, remember, you are just as lame now (2011) as you were in sixth grade. And you don't give a shit. I hope you (2021 Denise) don't care either.
So, the email:
Once upon a time I internet dated, and it was a blast for many reasons. I got a lot of free dinners, I met people crazier than myself, and I had the best sex of my life, many many times. I met a boy who explained to me, without even trying, how much chemistry two people could actually have. He showed me that I don't need to be a size 10 to get sexy men, and he showed me what a man should do to a woman when it comes to getting down and dirty.
He also showed me what it meant to be hurting, and lost, and trying to find a substitute to being alone. He was more broken than I was, and I was broken.
I was coming from depression, anxiety, and insomnia so bad that I hadn't slept properly for almost a year. He was coming from a relationship ended by his fiancé having cheated on him. His depression was great, and he wasn't getting help.
I tried to help him, and I think in small ways I did. I loved him, I was good to him, and we spent a lot of time together; easy time, the kind you have in long term relationships that comes from comfort and familiarity, only we only "saw each other"
(note: nothing official...)
for about four months. He was easy, we were easy, but neither of us was really happy.
I wanted him, I was over my break up, in therapy, and on medication that made me feel alive again, and helped me sleep properly for the first time in what seemed like forever.
He wanted her, but not her now, her before she cheated. Her before his heart was broken. Her before everything.
But I wasn't her, and he couldn't be with me.
We enjoyed each other more than either of us imagined possible, but it still wasn't right. Wrong place, wrong time. More hurt feelings.
We stopped talking about four months ago, I remember it perfectly because it was the day I got my acceptance letter in the mail for nursing school, and just after Tom and I started dating... and today is mine and Tom's four-month-iversery.
This morning, I woke up next to Tom, all cuddly and spoony like he loves to sleep, and checked my email.
There it was, from him. From Kyle. From the man I wanted nothing more than to be with forever, apologizing for the way he had treated me, wishing me well, and saying he hoped I remembered him.
The only thing I could do was read it again. And again.
Could it be real? Could the only other guy I think about besides my boyfriend really be emailing me, thinking I'd forgotten him?
So I emailed him back.
The thing I hate most is when people don't answer. So I refuse to be that girl.
I told him I miss him, and that I of course remember him. I told a few bad jokes and informed him of my updates. I told him that there was no need to apologize because I understand where he was coming from and it was my own fault for thinking I could make him happy. And I gave him my phone number.
Told him I would love to see him if he wanted.
And now I am here, writing, waiting, and hoping that the easiest "relationship" I ever had really isn't over and I can at least continue a friendship with him. Because I do miss him,
And in a completely warped and unhealthy way, I loved him too. Still love him.
And miss him terribly.
And want him to be happy again.
I want to know him when he is happy.