The Empath and The Opportunist – Continued.

He is carrying on about the business; about profit and loss…I am sitting here across the table from him, wondering why the Hell I even have anything, much less such a co-dependent kinda thing, with this fucking guy of all people.

His father just died, after a long and trying illness, he is sad and needy right now; yet, he only wants to talk business, as usual. Whatever dude…let me print out a P & L and we will comb the fucking books then, fine with me.

Men are so puzzling this way: so likened to a fucking light switch when it comes to using the experiences we have in life as a means of enriching our relationships with each other. They don’t know how to approach it, they just kill the whole operation; they can’t figure it out, they just tune it out; they can’t accurately compartmentalize it, they simply pretend it isn’t there.

Men seem just as happy (or so they like to believe) with stuffing it all down until they are no longer capable of stuffing. And then: Ka-Boom. Right?

This particular man has the capacity to say the right things and do them too, when it might suit his fancy for whatever reasons…but, those times hardly ever overlap with my own times of receptiveness these days, after all that’s passed between us. He has that shit-eating smile that can stop traffic from across the street; but he also happens to be one of the very last people I would ever lean on for any reason – as I have learned the lesson in his case that I will fall the fuck over, should I lean even the slightest bit on him. He always said he loved me because I am “built with so much substance” and am “so deep of a person”, and the reason he thinks he “loves” this about me is because he lacks these things completely. He sings such horseshit as “stability” and “security” (please note: he straight the fuck up tossed me like last week’s milk like two years ago and badly broke my heart), while sporting me on an arm that he can detach from his shoulder at any time via some hidden release mechanism. I am honest with him about how I can’t and never could again – trust him on the levels that matter (to me, at least)…he seems to care less. I don’t sleep with him any more either, and haven’t for almost two years, so he knows that I’m not just talking shit. Whatever, let’s file a tax voucher instead.

No Exception.

I guess you’d expect I might,
be either shocked or surprised,
after being shown the hazy light,
by someone hidden in all those lies,
and – no thanks to you, Dude,
she just now told me the truth,
you somehow failed to mention how,
you’ve got someone speaking for you,
and so, unsurprisingly once again,
another one fails to be “the exception”,
go on now, go take your place in line,
in the long chain-gang with the rest of them,
the only thing that surprises my fade,
is the reminder of being in the seventh grade,
your girl’s making phone calls you shoulda made,
trying to paint over the big picture you’ve displayed.

The Empath and the Opportunist – Continued.

NOTE: “The Opportunist” is someone who broke my heart pretty completely about a year ago; someone who I gave too much to, and got little in return from; someone who made it painfully apparent when I failed to present any further opportunity for him that he had no reason to stay.

He showed up on Saturday to watch the fight at the Man Cave with his lifelong friend, my roommate, Dice. I had known he would be coming – they were ALL gonna be coming, I knew (it turned out to be 16 men and 2 women, including myself) watching the fight.
His face told very sad stories immediately upon opening the front door and seeing him: eyes down-turned and swollen, bottom lip protruding out slightly…unable to make any eye contact with me. I knew something was wrong right away – because despite everything we have been through, he has never been unable to look me in the eye. Oddly, before I could even give it any logical thought, I blurted out:
“What’s wrong Opportunist? Is it your Dad?” (Of course I used his real name, though)
He just fell apart right there on the spot. Came unglued altogether. His father has been deteriorating at a sporadic pace from Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s; and has recently become very fearful, paranoid and much like a strange child to his own helpless family. I watched when I was a young girl, as my great-grandmother faded to Alzheimer’s – it undoubtedly broke my great-grandfather’s heart and was the most traumatizing experience that he had ever lived through…I often think he wished he wouldn’t have.
Anyway, the empath in me was alive and well on Saturday; I hugged him, and sat with him, and talked with him for hours – let him talk about the living nightmare that he is currently undertaking in regard to watching his Dad slip away in mind and body. We ended up missing the main event fight altogether because he was obviously in greater need of talking to someone about his Dad. In a house full of his best friends that he’s known since first grade or earlier – I found it striking that it was ME he ended up in the garage with all day and night while none of them bothered to even inquire about his father’s status. I guess that’s just a guy thing, I don’t know. Either way, there we were together.

I Got Your Opportunity RIGHT HERE, Bitch.

“Why don’t you just come over here and watch a movie with me?”

The bitch in me answered aloud in response as I read the text message:

“Because I don’t really feel like becoming your piece of ass for the night, you Narcissistic Fuck…”

Instead of responding with such truths, I instead opted to wait for over an hour before finally replying with:

“I’m good. Thanks.”

The Opportunist doesn’t give up easily when he wants to prove a point to himself; I know this about him, I know him well – we lived together for over a year not long ago, me and him…I believe that he has already somehow managed to forget this reality as a mechanism of his Narcissism; which is okay with me because it only reaffirms everything I have already concluded about who he turned out to be. It confirms the fact that despite everything I once poured into the Opportunist, in his mind – I remain as nothing more than the expendable naked body in his cold bed at night when he’s lonely.
Don’t get me wrong, I am certain that during our time “together”, he was not fucking other women – I know where he slept every night back then. This was pretty much another factor that hurt me deeply at the end of our time “together”, the realization that after being with (only) me for such a chunk of time, he was so able and willing to just pack up and move on without a second thought when he DID decide to fuck someone else. I do not have a drama-queen bone in my body, truly. So when this all went down in flames, I did what I always do when I get abandoned: swallowed down my pain and stepped into the blaze to walk myself through it somehow.
There were no late night call to him, begging him to come back or to see me…there were no discussions with his best friends (who I happen to be closely tied in various contexts) behind his back about what a piece of shit he is…there were no plans to sabotage his newly rekindled love affair with his despicable ex (who just got out of Club Fed for Corporate Fraud). There was just TRUTH. That’s all there is left between me and the Opportunist any more, is the ugly truth of what he is at the end of the day, every day.
I did not ask him to give me this courtesy; I would have (sadly, but in truth) been okay with continuing the bullshit façade that we had going because I have abandonment issues and they affect my love life in these fucked up ways…but he opted to show his ugly face to me…and I had to respond accordingly a that point. He left me no options on that score. We have been apart now for over six months, without contact until recently when he dropped out of nowhere with apologies and offerings; batting his crystal blue eyes with long lashes at me because he knows my weaknesses and he plays on them to an obvious degree.
I am smarter than that; is all I can think of to say to him, after all. I am bigger than that, and deserve much more than to be a meaningless piece of ass. That’s about all I know for sure when it comes to the Opportunist these days. I have recognized.

Inhale

Blades of silver-lined grass have cushioned the fall on my ass –
Once again, I take a hostage and somehow inch my way passed;
Fingers shaking too much to hold still, my own pistol at will;
Thoughts racing too far ahead of me and going too fast.

Trees bearing perfectly painted Paper-Mache fruits –
Line the mirage of roads that lead us so far from the truth;
It turns out anyway: when the sun sinks down every day,
It’s nothing more than another trick being played on me, too.

The moon hangs up high only long enough to revive –
The parts of this pirated vessel that can still “look alive”;
But then it once more – gets replaced just like before,
A solar mockery of a lunar journey to simply survive.

The cardboard doors fall in as soon as the knocking begins;
Just a façade made to look like there’s some kind of life within;
Templates of bodies without faces – drafted in pencil-thin traces,
Erases the lines away where the canvas wears thin.

Wrapped stupidly inside a snuggly blanket of lies;
Happy to step down and hand over such a cursed prize;
Soothed to death by a waking breath – in the wasteland that’s left;
Too tired to cry or wonder why – can’t wipe enough blood from my eyes.

And everyone says I have lost my mind this time;
In which case the truth would be so much easier to find –
But it remains aloof – this thing called TRUTH;
Enlightenment of the most poisonous kind.