Lately, I have been feeling a sense of loss and I’ve been missing the Belgian. I can’t explain why, but I predicted that I would hear from him again in the not-so-distant future. Yesterday was the day.

One important lesson I learned about my former European boyfriend is not to take everything he says so literally. French-speaking people have a romantic, flowery, dreamy way of talking that is mostly bullshit. But since Life is about choosing which bullshit we want to believe and leaving the rest, I can think of much worse bullshit to buy into than passionate love stories spoken with a French accent.

I’m a sucker for fairy tales, anyway, so it’s no surprise that I wrote an entire book in my mind based on the sweet talk I got from him. Consequently, it’s not a surprise that I was constantly disappointed.

For the first time, I think I’m getting some clarity about why I was so pissy at Christmas with him…

Oooooh, (spine-tingling chill) and why I struggle with accepting all the different parts of my Self…


I abhor contradiction. Say one thing, do another. Make a claim, don’t support it. Promise me, and don’t follow through. Show me who you are and then remove the mask to reveal it was just a scene from the movie. Do as I say, not as I do. Hand out communion at Mass and then go home to fuck your mistress… oh, sorry… I digress…

So, when the Belgian says, “I’d give all I have just to be with you for a few hours,” and he doesn’t do it, it registers as a lie to my black and white brain. I may not be conscious of the fact that it’s another mark in the tally I’m keeping in my head, but after awhile, suddenly he’s a liar and my trust has vanished, I have no respect for him, and neither of us has any idea what happened. And because I have no substantiation for my seemingly insane thoughts, I can’t voice them, so instead I bitch at him over the amount of olive oil he’s using to make his eggs and count the days until he gets the fuck out of my house.


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