This is where I draw the line.

It’s been 10 days since I saw Brian and his entire family for who they really are and walked away.   Yes, I know,  I can see the eye rolls out there, the “here we go again” deep sighs, the “When will she ever learn?” questioning looks.

This time?  I walked away.  This time it was my choice.  This time I get it.  I saw what I had been ignoring for years.  I saw him, them, for who they really are and I can’t accept that.  No, that’s not true.  I can accept they are who/what they are.  I can’t accept that into my life.    And so this time, I shut the door.  This time I walked away.  This time I said “I’m done.  I want no part of this any more.”

And that?  Makes all the difference, apparently.

Because there is no nagging doubt, no lingering hope, no strings  left dangling hoping to tie me to him yet again.  This time, it was a clean and final break. Cutting all ties.  Walking away, saying good bye.  Knowing, *knowing* really knowing this time, I’m done.

I am letting go of the past.  I no longer think about ‘what’s he doing today?’  I no longer worry about if he’s at work, or off, of what is happening in his life.  In fact,  have had zero contact with him.

And that, my friends, is peace.

There have been no tears.  None.  He is no longer worth them.  He is not worthy of me.  I am so much better than him, better without him.

Now, that something better.   Right now I believe that something better is just the peace of mind knowing this time, I’m finally done, and this time it’s over, forever, and this is really the best thing I could do.  The letting go, the saying good-bye, the lifted weight,  the freedom to be me without worry.

I live my life now for me.  Without having to answer to anyone but me.

So much so, that last Friday, when I picked up the girls, I drove an extra half hour to have a birthday dinner with one of my girlfriends because she asked, and I had nobody I had to get home to.  Then?  I drove another hour to The Lake, to see a friend I hadn’t seen in years, because I could.

And I had a blast.  I laughed, I relaxed, I played, I enjoyed… all because I could. Because I didn’t have to answer to him, or anyone.  Because I was on my time schedule, not someone else.

It was heaven.

And for a while, all those years ago,  I thought that Brian was The One.  And maybe he was.  Maybe he was The One to teach me Here is the line in the sand.  He is where you stand, this is what you believe, and this, *this* is not negotiable.

That is important stuff to know.

Like the feeling of being wanted, the feeling of being important to someone, the feeling of being special.  And just maybe that friend you haven’t seen in years will be just the person to remind you of that.

I live with Bert and Ernie only with vaginas.

People? This is the best Bert and Ernie book. Ever. It was one of my sister’s favorites when she was a child.  Ok, I don’t know that for a fact. It was one of MY favorites when she was a child.

If you haven’t read it, (and clearly most of you probably haven’t) it’s the story of how Ernie bought some cookies but broke the cookie jar, so he has to put the cookies in the sugar bowl, and the sugar in a flower-pot, and one thing leads to another ending with the fish in Bert’s cowboy hat.  So Bert has to wear a pot on his head when he wants to play “Ride ’em cowboy.”   People? That is a direct quote, do not laugh at me.

This weekend, the girls and I stopped at Sonic on our way back from The Lake. (who we were with is a blog post for another day).  A few miles down the road,  the following conversation took place in the back seat of the car.

Newt: Here, Tate, Hold your Sonic food.

Tate:  Why should I hold my Sonic food?

Newt: Because I have to put my food in your Sonic Bag.

Tate:  Why can’t you put your food in your bag?

Newt: Because mine has a soda in it.

Tate: Why does your bag have a soda in it?

Newt: Because the cup holder is full.

Tate: The cup holder is full?  Of what?

Newt: Books.

Tate: What?  Why are their books in the cup holder?

Newt: Because I don’t want them on the floor on my feet.

Tate: So what I supposed to do with my Sonic food if you’re using my bag?

Newt: Hold it on your lap?

People?  I can not make this shit up.

Hateful Bitch, The Pirate, and me.

This weekend, I met another blogger in real life.  For a lot of you, that’s like what? A weekly occurrence? For me? Me… the homebody, the one who is just learning to say “Yes” to stepping outside my house/comfort zone? This is a first.

Five years ago I was just getting started in blogging.  I was just branching out and getting a few readers who didn’t share DNA with me, and I was reading other blogs. Hateful Bitch and I were working together and I shared my blog with her, and introduced her to a few of my favorite bloggers.

One of those bloggers was The Pirate.

Her stories of competing with The Gays over Halloween decorations? Had me peeing my pants with laughter. (You’ll have to go dig through her archives to find that shit, because she doesn’t have a search box on her blog.  And? I’m lazy. Sorry. But it is so worth the read! Trust me.)  She cracked me right the hell up.

Over the years, I stopped reading her blog but apparently Hateful Bitch and The Pirate struck up a friendship.

And this weekend, The Pirate was in The Lou for a conference.  (Some sort of vascular something or other conference.  I don’t know. I just remembered we decided that stabbing douchenozzles was ok, because it would be considered research for her conference.  We’re good with logic.  And justifications. Clearly.)

I met up with Hateful Bitch, and at the time was unaware of who The Pirate was, aside from Hateful Bitch’s friend.  When she finally told me who she is I was blown away.

The Pirate?  Is awesome.  She’s just as funny in real life as she writes.

And that making me laugh till I peed my pants thing?  I returned the favor.

Because I’m a giver.  I care.  Truly I do.