“‘Til it happens to you, you won’t know. It won’t be real. No it won’t be real. Won’t know how it feels”

All around social media these days is “women’s rights” posts, and stories from different women on how their rights have been violated and how we are going back fifty years in this country. I am a total pro-choicer. I also never believed in blaming the victim. I know I’ve put myself into some precarious situations in my time, and I have been lucky so far. But it’s amazing to me how a lot of old school society has the mentality of “if she doesn’t want THAT kind of attention she shouldn’t wear that that” or “she knew she was a slut when she spread her legs.”   I just experienced that mentality. And at the hands of another woman.

I love Annie. She’s a no holds barred kinda gal in her fifties. She gives no nonsense advice and tough love as a former corrections officer and now bartender. We’ve been close.   She also warns me that I shouldn’t say things to “set KJ off” since he’s going through recovery and I should learn to zip it when it comes to talking back to him. I can handle that.  At our bar two weeks ago, she had another friend come out and get me to bring me inside because I was outside alone talking to two male regulars on the patio, whom I’ve known for awhile now. I told her “what? they’re my friends” to which Annie replied “No Ellie. They just want to fuck you. That isn’t going to look good to KJ.” (On a side note, I told my boyfriend about the situation-minus they want to fuck me part- and he just shook his head and said “Babe, I trust you a 100 percent and I know them. It’s okay.”) Annie always tells me “Girl, you got a sexy motherfucker and you need to make sure you do whatever you need to do to keep him, and that includes only talking to females.”

A few days ago, we were in a group after closing time at our bar congregated outside. TY (previous post from long ago–I hooked up with him before KJ and I were official because I was mad at KJ. It was childish and I’m not proud),  decided to hang around with us. I didn’t speak to TY all night, but he decided to hug me and grab my ass in front of Annie and my young, guy friend and manager PJ. I told TY, no, that was unacceptable.  He followed me to my car in the shadows where he pressed me against the back and forced a kiss. I got my head away and yelled “Get the fuck off me!”  TY stuck his hands under my shirt and I managed to squirm away and use the remote to unlock my door. He blocked me from getting in my car and said “you’re not leaving before we have a little fun” , while trying to force his tongue in my mouth and groping me between the legs. I managed to elbow him out the way and get in my car, where he tried again until I was able to finally use my knee and push him out.  I was yelling the whole time.

After this five or six minute ordeal, I was shaken. I pulled up where PJ and Annie were. They didn’t see what happened but PJ made the comment that he was coming over there if I would’ve yelled one more time.  I responded ” You should’ve come over there after I yelled the first time”.  PJ told me that I should know better and I should be leaving before last call with a guy from our group walking me out.   Annie proceeded to lecture me. She said “Ellie, this is what I’ve been trying to tell you. This shit happens when you talk to men. You hugged him so you let him believe that this was okay. You’ve given up to him before so he figured it was okay to just take it because you’re easy. ” I was stunned. How the fuck is almost getting assaulted my fault?  And both of you heard the whole thing and let it go on because maybe I ‘deserved’ it for acting easy?  Annie goes on to say “What if KJ finds out?” I answered “what if he does? I did nothing wrong. I’m not telling him because I don’t want him to go ballistic on TY, not because I’m guilty of anything.” Annie says “Why would you want to put him or us in this situation? Of having to protect you because you didn’t listen and you want to talk to all these men.”   Tears filled my eyes and I walked off.

You see, I was sexually abused by my mom’s boyfriend from the ages of 6-10. Most of my childhood is one big blackout where I’ve repressed most of it. When I finally told my mom at age ten, I told her it had only just happened twice recently to protect her. I’ve never told her the truth through this day.  He got pled down because I didn’t confess the amount of years I endured. And because my hymen was still intact because everywhere he touched me was external and there was never penetration.  And his family was affluent. And no one would listen when I tried to tell them the abuse was mostly because he made me do things to him. My first road head experience was at aged 8 for example.  And no fucking jail time. Community service and required counseling. I just had the same punishment for a goddamn traffic ticket. But that’s as in detail as I’ll get about any of that kind of trauma.

So me getting blamed for having my ass and vagina and boobs grabbed without my consent brought back the feelings of ten year old me. For some reason it was my fault and I’d asked for it because I gave out free hugs.  And for two days I’ve been holding all these emotions in with no one to express them to.  No one in my new life knows any of this, I left all that back home when I left my home state.  But now it’s all on the surface again.

It’s not my fault, it’s not my fault, it’s not my fault. I have had to replay that as a mantra to talk to my ten year old self and the me in my 40’s. I left home so I wouldn’t have to face my abuser again. Now, it looks like I’m going to have to avoid my bar.  Why do they fucking win?

“It’s funny that you’re calling me tonight And, yes, I’ve dreamt of you too And does he know you’re talking to me? Will it start a fight? No, I don’t think she has a clue”

Blue eyes. Over 6 ft tall. Beard.  Possesses the ability to give amazing orgasms. Nope, I’m not describing some sort of superhero.  I’m describing the last two (non-family) important men in my life, both KJ and CS.  This is where the similarities end.  I really shouldn’t be making comparisons between the two as relationships I had with CS and my current relationship with KJ is vastly different.  But I can’t help it.

The main reason is probably that CS is back in my life, by text, on a daily basis.  We’re friends with a tiny bit of flirtiness, and we know where the line is.  Of course if I’m going to be honest with myself, there are times when I’d still love to hear his voice, as it probably remains my favorite voice to listen to.

CS matches my wit better than KJ. KJ matches me better emotionally.  But there’s no such thing as a Build-A-Bro workshop in a mall.  KJ is truly a male version of me, while CS balanced me.  I’m not trying to “decide” between the two as that decision has already been made. I know who I am with and want to be with.  Maybe with the friendship with CS, I’ve got the best of both worlds now.

I’ve always had two theories, one of which I have disproven to myself.   The first is that there really is no such things as friends with benefits. I’m sticking to that.  Usually one person catches feelings and the other doesn’t. Or, in my case, after months of swearing we didn’t want a relationship, KJ and I fell for each other.  The other theory that I’ve disproven is that exes can’t be friends.  I do still have a slight emotional attachment to CS, but at the same time like where we are now.  And if I’m being super honest, there are times when I really miss him and would love to see him again. But don’t know if that would be wise.

Totally unrelated to the post but it’s a big deal so I had to include. Congrats to my man, my KJ, of thirty days of sobriety today.  I’m so proud of him, and I can still see when he struggles.  For example, we went to a huge event with two other couples last week with 40,000 people, who were openly walking down the street drinking.   He was shaking thirty minutes in but refused to leave because it was something I wanted to do. Little did he understand that his well being is way more important to me than being at any event,  Our relationship has its ups and downs. It’s not easy. But he’s truly killing this sobriety thing.

 

 

“Let him know that you know best, Cause after all, you do know best, Try to slip past his defense, Without granting innocence, Lay down a list of what is wrong, The things you’ve told him all along, And pray to God he hears you, And I pray to God he hears you”

At the apex of our partying days, KJ shoved me. Hard.  That’s not something I freely admit because I’m ashamed I did nothing about it.  That’s also a moment I’ve vowed never to bring up now that he’s in recovery.  One of the regulars we hang out with at our bar, HA,  had a different idea last night. HA explained to KJ how much better everyone likes him now that he’s sober. HA also told him what happened that night. KJ almost got in a fight with HA and another guy playing pool. KJ is (was!) a cocky drunk, and one who thought that  he’s ten feet tall and bulletproof. I grabbed KJ’s arm that night to try to get him to leave, he was in the moment and mad, and pushed me roughly.   That was only one story that KJ is hearing from our friends.

See, here’s the part about being the partner of an alcoholic or recovering alcoholic.  He almost has a clean slate in his head, while I’m having difficulty wiping the hard drive in my head.  He has no memories of the fucked up things he did and said while he was drunk or high on something, while I still have the burden of remembering them all.  I know I’m supposed to support his recovery and not throw things he did back in his face, and I don’t do that.  He doesn’t have the memory of telling a guy at the bar who asked were we together “Sorta, but you can fuck her if you want.”   Or after me driving for an hour to rescue him at a bar not in our town, answering a girl who asked the same question “Hell no, I’m not with anybody.” He doesn’t have the memory so he doesn’t understand why I’m insecure sometimes in this relationship.  When my best friend died of an overdose a couple of years ago, she lied to her parents to get money saying I needed it. I found this out after her death and felt betrayed. And I’ll never get the chance to resolve it or tell her how hurt I am. I almost feel the same with these things with KJ. Yes, he’s still alive, but that old drunk KJ personality is dead.  So I’ll never get the chance to resolve those issues.

Now, KJ is also missing a lot of our good memories that I can still think about that make me smile.  Our first kiss, which happened during a terrible drunken karaoke rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody, that happened in front of all of our coworkers and the entire bar. And it was almost straight out of a chick flick after the whole bar cheered for that kiss, because everyone had been rooting for us to be together.(I actually have that on video).  Or the time KJ made up and freestyled a few rap verses in front of everyone that he made up for me.   The time that he started naming Jesus’s disciples to keep from finishing too fast but started saying them out loud instead of in his head and we literally giggled so hard our stomachs were hurting.

I guess at this point we concentrate on making new memories.  We ran into someone he’s known for years last night. He went to the bathroom and she wrapped her arms around me and thanked me with tears in her eyes. I told her she had nothing to thank me for, that it is his hard work and persistence.  She said “yes, but you were the one in the trenches, and supporting him with no obligation besides love. You deserve thanks too.”

So while I’ll never know what KJ is going through mentally now that the physical withdrawals are done, he’ll never know the baggage I carry for both of us.

“Choose the words that cut like a razor, and all I’ll say is Fire Away. Take your best shot, show me what you’ve got. Honey, I’m not afraid.”

The phone is not ringing constantly. I’m not getting any texts.  My heart hurts. I’ve had to rely on lots of introspection the past 48 hours and realize how much I liked being the savior, and how co-dependent both of us are. It’s been two weeks since my last post because I haven’t had time to breathe, So let me catch my followers up.

KJ is my boyfriend. We FINALLY were forced to confirm our relationship status in front of our friends who were tired of our denial that we are just fucking.  Actually, he called me his girlfriend. And I proceeded to get blackout drunk, and my friend told me that I looked like I was about to have a panic attack. In a weird twist, it was in that drunkenness that I knew he could overcome his own demon with alcohol. He cared about me enough to stop drinking and take care of me, to make sure I was safe since he’d never seen me drunk enough to be carried out of the bar.

KJ is my boyfriend and an alcoholic.  He’s recently hit rock bottom the past couple of weeks.  He’s also turned from alcoholic to raging alcoholic. One that lost his new job. One that got so insecure that he felt the need to be where I am all the time, or at least reachable every hour.  One that started insisting on going through my phone when he was drinking, (I said no), and started insisting I go through his.  And I was okay with this, because if he was with me, he was safe. And he’s the hottest guy I’ve ever been with so it made me feel good. (All his exes are trouble, but a lot hotter than I.) Then I wouldn’t hear from him some nights after we parted, and the first thing I would do was check the county jail shots.

KJ is my boyfriend, an alcoholic, and my best friend. I had a family emergency come up that required an 8 hour drive one way out of state.  The first thing he said is “I’m not letting you go through this alone Ellie. Let’s go.”  I told him I couldn’t deal with his addiction. He told me to give him a chance.  We hit the road, he had a beer to keep the shakes away but stayed sober. We sang at the top of our lungs. We played road trip games. I gave him a hand job going down the interstate. We talked about different things, nothing serious. He calls his mom, tells her he’s with his girl.  I tended to my family emergency, got back to the hotel room where he’d ordered in my favorite Italian food from a local spot.  He had about three beers (which is sober for him). We watched a movie. Made love about four times. Because of the minimal alcohol, he started withdrawing but it was okay.  We made love a couple of more times (completely sober) the next morning and began the long, heart wrenching drive home. I’d done research on alcoholics that were detoxing but I have never experienced it .  He started talking government conspiracy theories. Yelled at me (for the first time ever) that I needed to suck it up because I knew what I was getting into. I was physically and emotionally exhausted by the time we got home.  He, however, agreed that he needed a long inpatient stay. We talked to a couple of addiction counselors and got advice. (Go figure, I was advised to let him buy alcohol until he got admitted, sudden cold turkey can cause death).

KJ is my boyfriend, my best friend, an alcoholic, and my heart.  We saw each other the next couple of nights. He warned me that he may push me away because he knows he will say things to hurt me while he’s in rehab. He also mentioned that if I cheat, he’d find out about it and he will honestly be worried about that.  He gathered my information a few days ago so I could be his contact person, and I haven’t heard from him since.  I know he’s there, I called the hospital. His mom has talked to him. But he hasn’t called me.   I’m trying not to overthink. Did he get sober and not want me anymore? Is he protecting me? Or the most likely scenario, he doesn’t have my phone number memorized.  (They take your phone immediately in the hospital). All I have is two missed calls from him right before he went in that I couldn’t answer because I was in a meeting.  The hospital says that he only gets one fifteen minute visit per week, but I need his “code” to see him, which I can’t get unless I talk to him.  I feel selfish for worrying about our relationship status. And happy at the same time that he’s doing this for himself, but also partly for me.

But I”m terrified. I’ve stuck it out this long and will continue, and am sure the next thirty days will become my new normal. Until then, all I can do is keep busy.

“Hate me today. Hate me tomorrow. Hate me so you can finally see what’s good for you.”

Lying on my right side, a hand on my boob, beard nuzzling the back of my neck. Then just two days after, the voicemail saying “Ellie, this is fucked up, how you treat me. You’re dead. I”m done. I don’t give a shit”  because I didn’t answer the phone after 18 missed calls. The conflicting emotions of both detachment and being crazy about him.  Yep, KJ is back. He’s been back for about a week but I’ve been processing so much the words wouldn’t come for the blog. I’ve also worked on this post for a week, but the highs and lows have me constantly changing themes, so I’ve decided just to go straight with what’s happening.

Rewind to eight days ago, when I get a number from a phone number that I don’t recognize.  Then a voicemail that I listened to ten times, because I had resigned myself to the fact that he was gone, and it was for the best. “Ellie, it’s KJ. This is my new number. Hit me up. Need to talk to you.”  He sounded well. Told me he’d moved back in with his mom (about forty minutes away from me) temporarily while he straightens up. He got a job at a really nice restaurant. He wants to meet me in two days and is willing to drive my way to talk.

I see him. He tells me he wants an actual date, more than just hanging out at the bar, getting drunk, and fucking.  He sounds better than he has in weeks. We actually begin texting throughout the day and talking on the phone at night. Discuss how things might work since we no longer work or live near each other.  Agree to take turns making the trip.

Friday night comes and we both have to work at our jobs. The plan was for me to come to him (and meet his mom possibly…eeek), and have a drink with his new work friend. I got off later than expected but still made the drive. I talked myself into ending it all the way there. And then of course I saw him,  We had the best time and the best conversation ever. He tells me how he went out a few nights prior and met a 21 year old girl with big boobs who gave him her number, and how he could have fucked her that night, but instead he went outside and called me (he did in fact, call me five times that night while he was out). He told me he realized that she might be a lot younger, and for that-could be technically considered hotter, but she wasn’t me.  She wouldn’t be as good in bed. Or as smart as me. Or as witty. Or as fun. I fall into these words, as the past two years anyone I’ve grown to care about has always passed me up for someone “better”. For once, I have a super hot guy that thinks I’m out of his league.  He again accuses me of being closed off and tells me that’s not fair to him when he’s such an open book.

*Kiss*

“My favorite color is royal blue”

“Blue is my favorite color”

*Kiss*

“My favorite show of all time is Dexter.”

“I threw the remote after watching the last episode I was so invested.”

*Kiss*

“Virgo”

“Pisces”

It was a chick flick kinda scene. Complete with the funniest sex I’ve ever had. (Story for later but it has to do with KJ almost suffocating in an Easter basket.

We talk on the phone Saturday. He’s supposed to come my way on Sunday. I’m working (he knows this) and my phone begins ringing at about 5 PM. After thirteen missed calls, I pick up.

“Hello?”

“Where are you?”

“Work”

“Are you sure?”

“uh, yeah. Pretty sure.”

“You’re not at work.  Don’t even fuck with me Ellie”.

I hang up. My heart drops. He sounded so out of it. I receive a voicemail that says “I can’t believe you are fucking doing this to me, knowing what I’m going through. You’re dead to me. I’m done. I don’t even give a shit anymore.”  The funny thing is, I didn’t even react. I was expecting it.  He calls back at around 10:30 sober, didn’t even remember leaving the voicemail. As all addicts are, he was extremely remorseful.

Monday night, he surprised me by showing up at our usual bar before I got off work.  We had no drama. He was himself. It was the first time we really acted like a couple. He played pool, I hung out with my friends. We’d pass each other and give each other a kiss on the lips and an “I love you”.  These young girls were talking to him, so he’d put his arm around me and give me a kiss on the forehead for reassurance that he’s not interested in them.  He makes the comment that he can look at my boobs all he wants because they’re now his.  We kiss a lot. He tells me he wants to chill now with our life. He wants to cuddle on the couch and watch Dexter and eat pizza, just be a couple. (I never agreed that we are a couple but everyone else calls us that so I guess I’m going with the flow.)

Last night, he sends me a text that literally says “Ksssneds%%” . Sinking feeling is back. I say huh? He says “where are you?” I say “home”.  He responds “good, I like to hear that.” He follows up ten minutes later with another “where are you?”, in which I say “wtf? see above. I’m home.”.  He calls, and I ignore. I get another scary, slurry voicemail “Baby, call me. Please. Thank you.” I ignore it and text him that we’d talk the next day, That we need to talk.

The highs and lows are a new level of chaos. What’s screwed up is that I was upset that he didn’t keep calling over and over, because at least I know he’s safe when he does that, as annoying as it it.  Everyone knows that he’s dragging me down too. I’m mentally exhausted from the worrying and actually physically exhausted from the constant sex. Who knew I’d ever say that? I know I’ll be ready to reach the point soon where I’ll be ready to give up on him. I just feel I’m the only one left in his corner. But at what do we stop sacrificing  ourselves by being a good human being and helping someone toxic? I can’t go through what I did by losing my best friend, someone I love to addiction again. If I would have tried harder, it could have been different. So how can I give up on KJ?

 

“If you love me don’t let go. Hold on, hold on, hold on to me.. because I’m a little unsteady.”

KJ is gone. I lost him. Literally. No breaking up was required. Like “Bye Felicia” “Adios” “Sayonara” “Deuces”.   I knew something was wrong when he couldn’t remember having sex with me (see previous post), but I didn’t know it was that bad.  For my mental health, it’s for the best.  For my heart, it sucks.

I saw him Thursday and we talked and made up from Wednesday. He was normal.  We had fun, even though he was working. He chilled with my kids. After realizing I had feelings for him, I wanted to see if I could help him overcome what he needs to overcome.   We made plans for Friday, and for the first time, I was the one to say “I love you.”

Friday night comes and he doesn’t show.  I look on our schedule app for work and notice he’s no longer listed as an employee.  I have no way of getting in touch with him since he broke his phone so I called a coworker. She informed me that he came to work so strung out that it was dangerous.  He ended up walking out of work and going to a town about an hour away from us, to one of our other restaurant locations, where he proceeded to get more fucked up and kicked out.  He’s worked for our chain for over ten years, so I knew it was something major.  Everyone is concerned. His mom doesn’t know where he is. HIs roommate says he didn’t see him for a day and a half. I dropped by his place last night. I went to every bar I know he goes to. He’s nowhere.  He’s such a creature of habit that he never goes anywhere different.  I don’t have a good feeling.

He’s gone. And it is out of my control.  Even if he comes back, he still has to be gone for me. I can’t go through this again with someone I love. Addiction is a beast that love or sex cannot conquer. I feel like KJ has been dangling over the railing of a bridge and I’ve been holding his hand feeling his hand slip through mine, but at the same time, he’s trying to send me over with him.

With CS, I was heartbroken, I cared about him a lot. Loved talking to him and spending time with him, but I wasn’t in love with him, and he didn’t need me. I cried and cried and cried when he broke up with me.  I haven’t cried yet for KJ. I’m numb and protecting my heart, because when it finally hits me, it’s going to break me for awhile, there’s no crying for three days and getting over it. I had to sleep on the couch last night because I”m so accustomed to him on Fridays going to sleep with him curled up behind me, beard nuzzling the back of my neck, and hand on my boob. I actually had to wrap my arms around myself for comfort.  When I woke up, I had to stare at the ceiling and realize I don’t know if he’s alive or dead or safe.  And hear his voice in my head telling me just five days ago “I’m damaged babe. I love you but don’t do this to yourself”, before making love to me like he never had.

It’s so funny how life works. When I started posting about KJ and we were just having the best sex of our lives.  And then me not telling him I’m ready when he asked.  And then figuring out I have feelings for him by hooking up with someone else. And then him disappearing after I told him I loved him. There’s no closure to be had on this one. He’s gone.

 

 

“You’re never gonna grow up. You’re never gonna be a man. Peter Pan.”

This day is full of surprises. First of all, big shout out to CS.  Who would’ve thought that after all that,  he would be the guy friend I vent to about KJ? Second, I discovered that I’ve been in denial.  I’ve been able to talk to CS without any of the hurt surfacing. That is one of the things that proves to me what I’ve been pushing away. I’ve got feelings for KJ.  Just in time to get over him. Because he’s toxic for me. And a leopard doesn’t change his spots.  And a tiger can’t change his stripes. And Walruses still have big dicks. (Nothing to do with KJ, just a fun and random fact.)

I completely acted like I was in high school yesterday. I saw KJ flirting with a co-worker (that he claimed he fucked to another co-worker but I think that’s talking shit, she wouldn’t give him the time of day for that tho), and I lost my shit.  He also couldn’t remember that he fucked me on Monday, which a guy friend told me I need to get over, that when you’re having sex with someone almost every damn day, the days run together.  I shut him out all night at work. (CS used to tell me that shutting down was my biggest problem. Ironically, it didn’t hit me until we broke up and I’m with someone else that I realized he’s right).

KJ came in to our bar a little late and I decided to be friendly but he looked at me and said “I’m not in the mood for this bullshit Ellie.”  I bought him a beer (a good one, we ain’t talking PBR tallboys), and he complained that it was the wrong size. I bought him a shot and told him to chill and have a good time.  He told me he didn’t want to deal with me. So I did the immature thing and sought attention elsewhere.

TY is someone I’ve met a few times at our afterwork bar. Stanford graduate. Tall, smart, handsome, funny, successful. I was talking to him before KJ got there. But when KJ ignored me, I did the immature thing and went into full flirt mode.  KJ, already angry, slammed down his beer and left.  I had a pseudo hookup with TY out of anger.

I’ve regressed from partying like a college girl to playing high school games.  KJ brings out the worst in me.  He never grew up. I can see my mistakes,  I own my mistakes, and I know that this person I”m becoming isn’t me. I have to start working on myself.  And that means letting KJ go.  If only I didn’t have to see him at work. As CS told me, I knew better than to shit where I eat. (Hey, that’s kinda literal since I work in the restaurant biz.)