Category Archives: dating

Protected: learn when to leave the table

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Protected: love our darkness & our light

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cheery rainbow piece


The day he left we sat barefoot in the dirt, leaning against an orange
blanket, waiting. He dug his hand under my shirt, resting it
beneath my bra strap. He said he loved me. Or he called me beautiful.
They were the same to him.
I remember him smelling like laundry
detergent, his feet making lozenge
shapes in the dirt, and the tears,
his or mine, that crept into our kisses.

I loved listening to him breathe —
wheeze silence wheeze.
We would drink red wine or play scrabble or read Anne Sexton
poetry. Always Sexton — the only poet we could agree on.
“Maybe we would like each other’s poems,” I said,
my naked foot stroking his leg.
“No. You would see too much in mine, and
yours, yours, I’m afraid I would hate — cheery rainbow pieces,”
he said.

I saw his chapbook at a friend’s house today.
He wrote this love poem:
“The most important part, I guess
is that I love you –
the vulnerable way you can be at night
when you are falling asleep
and we hold each other
for the first time that day.
I’m tired of hoping
that you will become someone
new to me the following morning.
Someone worldly, or good for me.”

I tried not to see too much but my name was the title.

That night I wrote him a bedtime story:
“Maybe when you fall asleep tonight,
you can dream about yourself,
broken repeatedly then put back together —
a dream that includes everything you’ve
done to me. Maybe feeling what I feel
can change you.
Or maybe, just maybe, you can slip into
your sleep and stay there.”

Cheery rainbow pieces indeed.


inspired by totally optional prompts

freddy’s back.

image: Freddy Krueger
by R_O_B_O

freddy’s back — well not really. i wouldn’t be stupid enough to let him back in.

i bumped into him a month or two ago in a bar. it seemed like he wanted to inhale me with his gaze. he had that same sneaky smile, giant gap still present. i avoided talking to him most of the night until he followed me out to my car.

you look nice, he said, hungrily. he talked about his living arrangements, his job status, his hopes for school. i tried to say as little as possible about myself.

then, he said the oddest thing. he brought up sushi. he said whenever he gets sushi he thinks about me.

um. call me crazy but i don’t find that flattering. maybe we did eat sushi together on one of our “dates” but still i don’t think of guys that i barely went out with when i eat something i had when i was with them.

imagine if i thought of john that i met at a journalism function when i ordered veggie burgers, or lester that i met at  school when i drink chocolate almond milk. and believe me i’m as sentimental as they come.

so anyway, i somehow managed to get into my car after twenty awkward minutes relatively unscathed.

i didn’t escape for too long though because a few days later freddy started texting me again. he uses words like “beautiful” and “great.” usually, i don’t respond. as tempting as it is, i don’t need attention from him to feel good about myself.

freddy doesn’t see my quietness as kindness though. his last text asked me “why is it that i text you and you don’t text me back?”

oh freddy. you just don’t get it, do you?


when i rejected freddy the first time, i said something i will never say to another man ever (actually, hopefully i won’t have to do any more rejecting). i told him that he would find somebody.

only now that i have recently been rejected and spoon fed that same line do i realize how patronizing and presumptuous it sounds. i winced when i read it in the email he sent me (yes, i am so cowardly that i could only make my feelings known through the internet.)

why after people are done rejecting you do they add this little annoying phrase? “you’re a great/special/wonderful girl meant for a great/special/wonderful guy and i have faith/i know you’ll find that guy one day.”

well thanks. that really made me feel better. compliment me after you reject me. that softens the blow. i’m so great/special/wonderful that you don’t want to be with me.

a wise pessimistic friend said it’s kind of like you have a delicious meal and you say gee this meal looks delicious/fantastic/incredible but i’m not going to have this meal. i’m not looking for good food. i’m sure there’s someone else though who will be interested in having this great meal.

a wise optimistic friend said it’s kind of like you have a delicious meal but you know you will not fully appreciate the meal or even finish eating it. so, you decide instead of wasting this perfect meal, i would rather pass on it and let someone else who would really enjoy it have it.

it’s up to you which side you want to take. i’m still debating.

— lissa