On Love, Or, Love On

I had a conversation with a friend of mine the other day. She is in a new relationship and madly in love with this guy. While talking about him, she said “I thought that I knew what love was with ____, but now I really know what it is with ____.”

I didn’t say anything at the time, and it wasn’t until later that I realized that something didn’t click with me. It’s about love.

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A Window in Your Heart

Losing love is like a window in your heart. Everybody sees you’re blown apart. Everybody sees the wind blow –Paul Simon–Graceland

I don’t have a very good excuse for not updating my blog. I guess I haven’t felt like it, I’ve been focused elsewhere.

I don’t usually get personal here either. I try to stay upbeat and post about geek-centric stuff. But I’m feeling personal today.

About a week and a half ago, I broke up with my girlfriend. Why? I couldn’t tell you. I know the reasons, but they’re far too complex to spill out over a blog, and I don’t want to reveal anything that might infringe on her privacy. The only thing I can really say is that we have many differences, and in the end, they were irreconcilable.

I’m 38 and single. Though Val and I were never married, I consider myself a widower. I’m a writer and tutor, which is like saying “if you date me, you’ll be paying for dinner.” I have some serious medical issues. I’m not exactly a catch.

At my age, it’s very hard to break off a relationship. There’s a very real, terrifying feeling that I will end up alone. The dating pool’s pretty shallow at my age.

But I don’t want to sulk. I don’t know what I want to do, actually. For now, I’m going to focus on writing and editing. While The Watchmage of Old New York is at the editor’s, I’m writing a series of short stories for a new (secret) project. Actually two, maybe three projects (I have no idea what’s going on)

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I’m not happy with the way the stories are coming out, and I wonder if it’s even worth the effort. Maybe I’m just in a slump.

Maybe the breakup is messing me up inside, and I can’t find my groove. I don’t know. I think I’m just having one of those stretches where I doubt my abilities. I’m hard on myself, and for a reason, but I also have to realize that not everything I write is going to be better than everything before. I wish it was true, but I can’t level up on every quest.

I’m hoping I get my groove back soon. It’s a magical place…like TAHITI.

What? You thought Doge wasn’t gonna show up in this post?

The Past Comes Back

I don’t write many personal posts anymore, but something happened this week that shook me so bad, I’m still in “Crisis Mode.”

For a little over two months now, I’ve been dating someone. Things have been great, and I’ve final found someone that I have a connection with. It’s the first person that I’ve felt this way about since Valerie died.

Most of you don’t know: My girlfriend Valerie Z. Lewis passed away very suddenly on January 24th, 2013. In two weeks, it’ll be two years. She had recently moved to Binghamton, NY, to get her PhD in Writing (she was an incredible writer. You can find her novels and collected short stories on Amazon. The revenue goes to Mercy College’s Valerie Z. Lewis Award for Excellence in Creative Writing), and I was soon to follow.

I went to visit her, and I found her on the floor. Two days later, she was dead. I died with her.

I’ve dated since then, but this is the first time that I’ve found someone. It took me two years to get over the fear of opening up to someone, only to see them die.

So when my current gf started shaking and seizing in my apt, when she couldn’t breathe and her left side fell limp, it was my worst nightmare coming true. I moved with alacrity I didn’t know I had, calling 911 with one hand while keeping her shaking body from injuring herself with the other. I wrapped her in one of my giant hoodies and held her, begging her to hold on, trying to keep her coherent with reassurance.

On the inside I was dying all over again.

They still don’t know what’s wrong. She’s slept most of this week, and still twitches. I’m terrified to leave her alone. If I wasn’t there, I don’t know if she would’ve lived.

Maybe I’m cursed. Dating me is poison. I’m already broken, and losing another will destroy me. I’m not strong enough anymore, if I ever was.