Tag Archives: first love

We Should have been Eighty

I met my ex when I was twenty five years old through a mutual friend who thought that we would be the perfect couple. I don’t know if we were the perfect couple, but we were perfect for each other for the time we shared.

From the moment we met we were inseparable. We grew up together and most of our life experiences and mistakes were a team effort. I always knew that no matter what was happening outside the walls of our home, there was always a soft place I could fall back on.

I remember the first day I met him. I had just picked my two children up from daycare and had been waiting by the entrance of the school doors for my friend, Janet and her boyfriend John to give us a drive home.

I noticed him right away, as he stood there facing me. We made eye contact but neither of us said anything. He slowly slid down the wall, into a stooping position. He was cute and his eyes were intriguing.

My youngest son has always been a very sociable child from the moment he was born. I used to worry constantly about someone kidnapping him because he would go up to strangers and become their best friend. My son walked slowly over to this man that was standing there, and plopped himself on his lap. He began to touch his face and began a conversation.

I watched the exchange between the two new found friends and both seemed to disappear into their own world. This stranger and I exchanged a few friendly glances at each other.

Janet and John pulled up in the car outside. I told my son to say good bye to his friend and I grabbed both of my children’s hands and pushed the door open and headed to the car. As I looked back I saw this stranger following us to the car.

John got out of the car and he and the man, began to talk as me and the kids piled into the vehicle.  This stranger had been waiting for Janet and John to give him a ride home.

As the kids and I got out of the vehicle and said bye to everyone, I would never had imagined that I would fall in love with this man and spend the next sixteen years with him.

My friend Janet went to work on arranging a date for us the very next day.  She began to tell me about the man I had sat next to in the car the night before. He was an ex fire fighter and was new to town.  Finally, I told Janet that he was cute and that “he could put my fire out anytime.”

At break time, Janet went outside and I sat at my desk trying to catch up on my work since she had talked my ear off for about an hour. Janet returned from her break and plopped herself down next to me with a grin on her face.

She had told him what I had said to her earlier and I could hear the excitement in her voice. I turned to face her, with a twinge of irritation. I demanded to know why she would go tell him what I said. I told her I told her that as a joke and felt embarrassed.

Janet then told me that, “he thinks your cute too!” I looked at her for what seemed like hours and turned back to the computer I had been busy looking at. I thought about what she had just said to me with a little bit of relief, but still humiliated that I may have to run into him one day. I had no real dating experience or strong relationships with any man I had ever met. My children’s father was the only real boyfriend I had and I was twenty-five years old.

A week later I sat across the man I had met in the hallway of school waiting for a ride home.  We both looked at each other and said a silent hello.  He ate his fries and I sipped my pop.  We never knew that our journey would take us over close to two decades.

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I Don’t Eat Pizza anymore….

When I was twelve years old my whole entire world changed.  It’s only been within the last few years that I have been able to be honest with myself and tell my truth of where I have been.  I am a survivor of childhood rape and molestation.

In 2011, I stopped eating pizza.  Actually, I stopped eating period.  I was unable to keep any food down.  I was petrified and believed I would starve to death.  When I would think of food, or attempt to eat food I would hit the bathroom running.  I was disgusted  and I could not figure it out.  I became a semi vegetarian for a period of six months.  It was the most expensive and time-consuming transition I had to make.

I learned how to eat without meat in my diet.  My (cheating ***hole) experimented with different recipes in order to keep me healthy.  My new vegetarian experience brought the love of my life and I closer together.  It takes a lot to come up with meals when one of you is totally disgusted by the thought of eating.

I thought I had allergies to something I was eating.  I would be hungry and when I went to make something  or to eat something,  my stomach just rejected the idea and stated quite loudly it was not eating anything at that moment.  I started from scratch and slowly reintroduced my favourite foods to my diet in order to find out what was making me feel anxious and disgusted when I ate.

Finally, it came to biting into a slice of pizza.  I loved the smell and the taste of pizza.  I missed being able to enjoy a delicious hot slice of pizza, with it grease dripping on my finger tips.  I had been anxiously awaiting for the opportunity for months and it was here.  I was tired of eating beans, rice and fish.  It was a Friday night and I had been able to eat whatever I wanted to eat at this point, without feeling sick to my stomach.

I couldn’t do it.  I took a bite of the pizza and I began to chew what was in my mouth.  I knew there was no way that this was going to work.  I put my dish aside and made my way, rather quickly to the toilet and began to vomit.  With sweat dripping off my face and sitting on the floor of the bathroom, I knew that I had to get over my love of pizza now.

I couldn’t understand it.  The thought of eating pizza literally made me sick to my stomach.  That night as my (cheating ***hole) lay beside me sleeping, I kept thinking about why all of a sudden I could not eat pizza.  After all, I have eaten pizza and loved it all of my life.

Then it came to me.  I lay there stunned but a bit relieved that all the questions I had, were being answered.  I rolled over and touched the top of (cheating ***hole)‘s head to wake him up without him knowing it was deliberate.  He moaned and rolled over on his back and muttered something that gave me an opening to have a deep conversation with him.  “I know why, I can’t eat pizza.” I whispered as I snuggled in close to him.

The (cheating ***hole) called me babe(boy do I miss that word from his lips) and asked me why.  I began to whisper a little louder now.  “Because I was eating pizza when I was raped!”  It was around this time that I had went to see a counsellor because (cheating ***hole) believed that all our relationship problems began and ended with me. And I believed him.

My (cheating ***hole) was quiet for what seemed like eternity.  He sat up and said he needed to have a cigarette.  We got dressed and made our way down the stairs in silence.  He handed me a cigarette and took one for himself.  He looked at me with those eyes that always made me weak at the knees. We sat outside, it was still dark out and the only light we  had were the street lights.

We didn’t say anything to each other. I felt rather silly waking him up to tell him about my pizza and rape story.  I didn’t know what came over me to wake him up in the middle of the night.  He was probably ticked off at me at this point.  I tried to sneak a look at what his face would tell me, but the street lights was not shining on his face.

Finally, (cheating ***hole) grabbed my hands in his.  “It makes sense, babe.”  He said.  I didn’t respond.  I sat there in darkness, with the love of my life  sitting next to me, holding my hands and my life in his.

“I hate that this happened to you.  I wish I could find those bastards and kill them.  I wish that I could make your pain go away.”  He said.  He took a drag off his cigarette and I noticed that one of his legs were shaking.  I knew he was mad because he only did this when he was upset.  We both sat in silence.

My tears began to roll down my cheeks.  I didn’t want to start crying loud enough so that he could hear me.  After all these years, I hated to cry in front of him.  I loved every word he just said to me and I wished that someone else could carry this load I had.  I didn’t want it to be him, it wouldn’t be fair.

“I can’t eat pizza anymore.” I said. “It makes me feel sick to my stomach.  I hate the way it sits in my mouth.  I was eating pizza when they raped me.  When I woke up, it was still in my mouth.  I just can’t eat pizza anymore and I want to.”

I finished talking and sat there holding back all my emotions.  I really wanted to cry and it was getting hard holding it all in.

He looked over at me and pulled me in closer.  I put my head on his chest and let him wrap his arms around me.  We continued smoking our cigarettes while I continued crying and he protected me.

It took another two years for me to sit in front of a therapist and tell her “I don’t eat pizza anymore.”

 Photo creditsexual abuse

I’ll be okay. Is this what you wanted me to say?


I watch way too much television and Hollywood movies.   I need to stop.  I need to remind myself that television shows and movies are written by people with ambitious hearts and wild imaginations.

I want that fairytale romance, where the man looks me into my eyes and right away we both know it was meant to be.  You know that feeling you get in the pit of your stomach that there is nothing in the world that you want more than spending the rest of your life with this person? And you know by the way he looks at you across the crowded room, that he feels the same way.  I haven’t found that look yet and I don’t have that feeling yet.

But who doesn’t want a story like the Notebook?  Who doesn’t want that epic love story about the most perfect couple, that defied all odds and stayed in love? But I need to remind myself that I am not Allie and he is not Noah.  There is no running into each other’s arms, because I don’t think either of us are ready to do that.


I think I know what I want from a relationship.  I want a man that is romantic, and sends me flowers at work because he was thinking about me and wanted to remind me how much I mean to him.   I want a man that will call me on a Friday afternoon and tell me that he made reservations for us out of town and that he had arranged a babysitter for my kids, all I had to do was pack my bags and be ready to drive off into the sunset with him. I want a man who looks at me and I can see that I am important  to him.

I need the star shine of your heavenly eyes, after the day’s great sun.” – Charles Hanson Towne

The man I have been seeing has a kind heart, he makes me laugh, he doesn’t pressure me to be someone else, he thinks I am funny, he likes my sarcasm.  We can sit  in the same room in total silence, each doing what we want and totally be comfortable doing it, with no pressures to entertain one another.  I like that I can let my guard down with someone I haven’t known for long. He likes me how I am, a little messed up, a little distrustful, with a lot of passion and affection.  I can totally be the person I am, without the pressures  of working tirelessly to change.  Something, I did not have in my last relationship.

 He is not perfect.  His heart has been broken and he doesn’t trust me nor trust himself with me.   He says he doesn’t make plans, he lives day to day and I am not sure what he means by that.  Is this an easy cop out so he does not have to commit to me or to a relationship.  Did making plans with someone in his past teach him never to plan for the future because people just disappoint you? I know that I have learned the same lesson at some point in my life.  People don’t always tell you that they don’t want the life you both had planned together.

Is it up to me to show him that I am worth the risk, that I am not and will never be the women he dated before me.  I don’t like the woman he dated before me.  They have made  this hard for me.  I am left to clean up the mess they made and the vibes I am getting is this mess is huge.  I don’t know the details and I don’t think I want to.  What I know is that he mentioned something about loyalty, change and emotions and I figured it was best not to ask any more questions.

truth is

He keeps me at arms length most of the time. I have a suspicion I am doing the same too.  It seems neither of us trusts the other with our hearts.  It feels pathetic and somewhat passionate at times, that the more we try to persuade our hearts not to get involved with each other, the more we want each other.  We both want a relationship, but on our terms only. It seems like the most perfect love story, heartbreaking and exhilarating all at the same time.

Most people would tell me to walk away from this relationship, there is nothing tying us together, we don’t have any children together, we haven’t been seeing each other long enough, the break will be clean, I won’t even miss him.  But then, I will only do what the man before him did, walk away from the potential that with a bit of hard work, things can work out.  I don’t like giving up on people and I don’t like people giving up on me.



I know that he has thought of walking away too.  There are days where he goes silent and where his conversations with me are short.  And I let him slowly push me away,  because maybe it would be easier for me if he decided for both of us this isn’t what we want.  I close my eyes and pray that we both can slowly fade out of each other’s lives and keep the little time we had together, hidden beneath the scars in our hearts.

Then we miss each other and someone caves in and reaches out to connect and restart this painful but sometimes perfect journey back into each other’s lives.  Is this enough for me to stay?  I am his girl and he is my boy and for now, I think we are ok with this.  I just don’t know who will cave in this time…..