Notes From the Underground

Soundtrack:

I'm out of town and I'm stalking but nothing pans out.
The dynamics of the venue are all wrong, I open a few times but eject. It's just not in the air.
I am ready to head back to my city.

I get back late, she comes over, we have long, good, deep satisfying sex.
We wake up and have sex again.
I make us a solid breakfast, she comes and watches me train.
We spend the day together while I finish work b/c the last two weekends out of time have set me way behind schedule -  something I rarely take home with me if ever.
We have dinner and she parcels out questions about my attitudes on marriage and training and the idea that guys who train are lost boys looking for father figures, which I tell her has some merit, at least for me it proved true for some time. For other guys it's about respect amongst their peers (other men specifically), for some it's about confidence, for some it's b/c it's cool and it's distinctly related to the UFC.....but that it often comes from a place of inadequacy, as was my case.
We sit and drink coffee, we walk through the mall and look at things neither of us can afford but it is fun and her small hand feels good in mine.
She leans in and whispers in my ear that she's wet thinking about me stretching her out and making her lose control.

We walk into my apartment.
Things are gone.

My ex-wife has come while I'm gone and taken the  ****, *****, *****, even my fucking *******. The one thing I asked to keep in the divorce.
Homegirl I'm with had left a bra on a chair with her things, and there's a note next to it reading "fuck you asshole" hastily scrawled on an envelope.

I stand quietly, simmering with anger....the one thing I asked to keep in the divorce, she fucking took.
I could lie and say I'm surprised but then...I had a sense this was going to happen as I usually do with these kinds of things. 

As it is, homegirl and I watch the Oscars with Hollywood sucking the Americana narrative/military industrial complex's dick splitting time between (F)Ar(ce)go and Zero Dark(Bullshit).

We have more deeply satisfying sex with her acquiescing to all of my wants, I get ****, and sleep deep dark sleep with no dreams I recall. I wake up and languidly lie awake until the last possible moment as she dresses in front of me, her dark hair seeming even darker in the morning cutting through the blinds.

I'm pissed but I'm thankful and force myself to remember crying in my bed, within an hour of losing fucking everything I've worked for post college. I remember my parents bailing on me and proving unwilling to help as they always are when I've genuinely needed something.

I sit with equal parts gratitude that I still have my job and car and the knowledge that you are on your own in this world and should act as well as prepare accordingly.

This has been a time of tumult in my life. My drinking got to where I drank every day, sleeping 3-6 hours a night during the first part of 2 years of marriage giving way to the uncertainty of starting over at 30. The question of moving looms as it always does and the fallout from the divorce hanging overhead.
Freedom is expensive b/c it's worth it, I keep telling myself.
I go forward with the suspicion that no one has it figured out, that we're all just tall, socially awkward children, feigning confidence as we sip beer at a party held by a Gatsby-like host no one knows nor realizes is just the Wizard of Oz casting illusions of control and certainty before us and all assertions that we have plans and that we know what we are doing prove utterly ridiculous and false.

Good luck and happy hunting,
       - Yrs. in Christ