Buy Some Furniture and Give the Cat a Name

In this Tiffany Brooch, a golden bird perches on a spectacular aquamarine. 18k gold with an emerald-cut aquamarine and round brilliant diamonds in platinum.

Ex-boyfriend Donny and I had stopped all communication for about a month, but then, over the past couple of days, we started e-mailing again, kind of like we used to: all day in a steady stream.  It’s no surprise, but it led, once again, to my fantasizing about him and us and him loving me.  I recognize how futile that is.  Donny never loved me.  He is never going to love me.  It’s just not something he has to offer.  Why can’t my brain accept that?  It’s pointless pining. 

It’s like I need to brush my teeth, so I go into The Gap.  I say to the woman behind the counter: “Do you have any toothpaste?”

She says, “No.  We don’t sell toothpaste here,” and then I just wander through the aisles, oohing and ahhing and wishing I could clean my teeth with a pair of blue denim capris.

I like Donny’s store so much.  I love just hanging around in there.  I like the way it feels: comfortable and calm.  I like to be seen there, and I like to see myself there. 

♥

Breakfast at Tiffany’s is one of my favorite movies.  Go to 7 min, 20 seconds here:

Holly: Poor old Cat.  Poor slob.  Poor slob without a name.  The way I look at it, I don’t have the right to give him one.  We don’t belong to each other; we just took up by the river one day.  I don’t even want to own anything until I can find a place where me and things go together.  I’m not sure where that is, but I know what it’s like.  It’s like Tiffany’s

Fred: Tiffany’s?  You mean the jewelry store?

Holly:  That’s right.  I’m crazy about Tiffany’s…Calms me down right away. The quietness and the proud look of it.  Nothing very bad could ever happen to you at Tiffany’s.  If I could find a real-life place that made me feel like Tiffany’s then…then I’d buy some furniture and give the cat a name. 

♥

I guess I’m looking for a real-life relationship that makes me feel like Tiffany’s, but a Tiffany’s that stocks toothpaste. 

♥Mora

        

 

Filed under: Breakfast at Tiffany's, donny , Breakfast at Tiffany's, dating, divorce, love, sex

The Love Scavenger

Donny and I got back together.  And then the next day, we broke up again.  Every time I begin to write a post in my head about what’s been happening between us, the circumstances change and I have to begin again. 

From tonight’s IM:

Donny (11:43 PM):  I am sorry I made you cry

Mora (11:43 PM):  that’s okay. thanks.

Donny (11:44 PM):  And sorry if I hurt you

Mora (11:44 PM):  just at the very end.

Donny (11:44 PM):  I know.

Donny (11:45 PM):  I like you a lot boo

Mora (11:45 PM):  i was just going to say something like that to you.

Donny (11:45 PM):  What were you going to say?

Mora (11:45 PM):  that you’re really a good person

Mora (11:46 PM):  and that you deserve a lot of things and I hope you find them.

Donny (11:46 PM):  Thanks

Donny (11:46 PM):  Like a scavenger hunt?

Mora (11:46 PM):  except that with relationships, you’re supposed to hunt around and if you find some of the things (but not all of the things) in one place, then you have to leave them and go off and find another place that has all of the things.

Donny (11:47 PM):  Fuck that I will just order them from amazon

Mora (11:47 PM):  can you order love on amazon?

Mora (11:47 PM):  can you get it used?

Donny (11:48 PM):  Maybe eBay

  

I’m feeling lonely.  And sad he never loved me.  And I am feeling like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff on a windy day. 

  

I have wings.  I have wings.  I have wings.  I have wings. 

 

Mora

Filed under: birds, donny , break ups, love, sex

…And Asking the Question Made It So

“Is your pussy wet?” he whispered into my ear in his thickest, rawest voice.  His nose pushed insistently against my ear while he spoke. 

Donny and I had lunch together on Sunday.  We had resolved that we should continue our relationship as though we were brother and sister.  We care a lot about each other, and do not wish to stop seeing each other, but a long-term romantic relationship between us will never work.  At lunch we avoided kissing or holding hands. 

But we were both very horny.  And we missed each other.  And somehow, the fact that sex between us was no longer sanctioned by the boyfriend/girlfriend label made it even hotter. 

I was driving us back to his place when he roughly put his hand on my knee and slowly pulled my legs open.  “Is your pussy wet?” he whispered into my ear again. 

…And asking the question made it so.

Filed under: donny , break ups, friends who fuck, love, sex

Games of Chance

Getting ready to leave the house now for a lunch date with a man I’ve known by e-mail for a while, but never met.  I suggested we meet at the library.  He suggested we meet in the 795 section of the Dewy Decimal System: Games of Chance.  He is very funny. 

Even though Donny and I have broken up, I feel like I am cheating on him.  We still e-mail and talk every day.  I think he’s depressed.  It makes me feel better that perhaps this has been hard on him as well.  Did we break up too soon?  Did I let go of him too easily? 

Or, is it just very hard for me to accept when a relationship is over?  I think I need to be careful, here, not to commit myself too fervently to making things with Donny “work.”    I miss him a lot, but that doesn’t mean we were right for each other. 

I miss him.  What do I do? 

I want to believe that there is a “right” answer here, but maybe there isn’t.  Maybe I just need to do whatever feels right at the moment. 

Maybe we should file “Love” in the 795 section of the Dewey Decimal System, under “Games of Chance.” 

Mora

Filed under: Games of Chance, donny , dating, divorce, love, sex

Dear Donny

Dear Donny,

There was a time I loved you.  I loved laying in bed with you in your empty bedroom.  I loved the way you held me.  You kissed me so tenderly.  

I loved that, after sex, we would talk for an hour or more.  We had so much to say to each other, and it was always whispered.  Once I asked you why we whispered, and you said it made things seem more special and private. 

I loved sleeping you your arms.  You were the first man I slept all night with in years.  Never did with husband, and the affairs were only a few hours in the afternoons.  All night in your arms.  I was asleep, but I always knew you were there. 

I loved that we had great sex and great talks.  You were both peanut butter and apples. 

I loved that I knew I was special to you.  It was like the rest of the world was a bother, but I was important and cherished. 

But at some point I started to feel like I blended in with the rest of the world for you.  There used to be Mora, and everyone else.  And then I was a part of everyone. 

When I cry over you it’s not because I wish we would get back together.  I cry because what we had is gone.  One night, I didn’t fall asleep with my head against your heart.  I slept in your bed with you, and I forgot you were there. 

I wonder whether I’ll ever feel that exquisite tenderness again.  I want to feel it again, but where will I find it?

I wish things were like they were.  I miss that you and that me and that us. 

Mora, with my ♥ a little broken

Filed under: donny , break ups, dating, love, sex

7 Break-Ups in One Year…

Just broke up with Donny.  That makes seven break-ups with seven men in one year: five illicit lovers, one husband, and one legit boyfriend.

I tried listing them all in my head today on my drive home from work.  I kept getting their real names mixed up with their blog names.  Don’t you think there is something wrong with that? 

Detective Curt, Valentine Dave, Sergeant Shane, Quirky Ted, No-Nickname Mike, Husband Steve, and Donny.

Donny and I weren’t right for each other, but I’m going to miss having him as my boyfriend.  He was good in bed.  He had handsome blue eyes.  He was comforting.  But I think I deserve more than comforting.  I think I deserve more…

Mora

Filed under: donny , dating, divorce, love, sex, single mother

Closing Time

It took a lot of courage, but I asked him.  “How do you think we’re doing?”  Donny agreed things between us are different. 

“It’s weird,” I said,” because, usually, when you break up with someone, it’s because you’re always fighting or you can’t stand each other.  But it’s not like that with us.” 

“No, it’s really nice and comfortable with us,” he said.  I agreed. 

I outlined the four options I saw for us:

1. Leave things as they are.
2. Stop seeing each other completely.
3. Become Friends Who Fuck.
4. Continue our romantic relationship, but also see other people. 

He ruled out Number 4 immediately.  He didn’t like Number 2, and neither did I.  He voted to leave things as they were, and wait a while to see if it improves.  I agreed.  I was relieved he made the decision.  It hurt too much for me to have to think about it. 

But then, after the sex, (Me on top, where I always come with him.  He knows exactly how to push down on my shoulders and push up on his hips to make me come) when I came back from the bathroom, I had to say it: “Do you think we’re already Friends Who Fuck?”  And we both knew we were. 

On my drive home, this was what randomly played on my i-pod.  It’s called “Closing Time.”

Mora

Filed under: donny , dating, friends who fuck, love, sex