Some women cry easily. Tears fall like raindrops but can be turned on and off like a switch. Other women rarely cry. Not only because it’s a sign of weakness, that’s already a given. But because when they cry, they cry so hard that all the agony and anguish in them is materialized for the world to see.

Suffice it to say, she was not a crier. But for that last night, sitting in a parked car with just the two of them, the tears wouldn’t stop running.

He used to say, ‘I could probably love you enough for the both of us’. She would laugh in candid amusement and reply, ‘Good! I’m counting on it.’ She never imagined he would leave her for somebody else. He never thought feelings could be displaced so easily.

They were the product of first love. The kind of love you read in fairy tales and dream about as a teenager. Grand declarations of all things eternal were uttered without assuming full responsibility or imagining any consequence, which has inevitably proved itself to be nothing more than empty promises.

She was a mess. If tears were the definition of anguish and despair, then she was swimming in a sea of pain. “Where did we go wrong?”

Can one pinpoint the cause in the fall of a doomed affair? How can you go from all that love, to not wanting to try anymore? How do people fall in and out of love like clockwork? How can some people be so compatible with virtually anyone and love whoever it is they’re with? How come some people don’t get their hearts back in its entirety after giving themselves away so completely?

“I want to hear you say it. I need to hear you say it,” she managed to choke out in between sobs. It was more of a test rather than a plea. A last resort to see if they’ve gone to a point of no return.

“Fine,” he shrugs and then looks her evenly in the eyes. “I don’t love you anymore.”  

The opposite of love is indifference. Hate is so strong, and so undeserving. But replacing love with hate is probably the easiest way to mourn.

“Nothing grieves more deeply and more pathetically than one half of a great love that isn’t meant to be.”- Gregory Roberts

[to be continued]

Life is unfulfilled at the moment. I’ve noticed that I can do without a lot, but having a lack of good girl friends around feels like a limb of mine is missing.

Why is it that girls get a bad rep for simply being girly? Sure there are the catty, bitchy ones, but I am a girls’ girl through and through. And nothing beats cultivating deep, meaningful friendships with like-minded women who can empathize and relate. I’ve blogged about girls who don’t have girl friends and I’ve expressed great concern in those who specialize in only one gender.  Of course, it’s not to say that the bitchy girl rep doesn’t come un-deservingly so.

But my girl friends and I don’t sit around gossiping about other women. We don’t talk mindlessly about shopping and clothes and how to dress our small dogs. Each girl friend of mine reflects  different spectrums of myself. I have traditional, girl-next-door types; girls that I can crash random parties and drink my face off with; girls that travel solo; girls that are domesticated and family-oriented; girls that own their sex and thrive in the spotlight; and most importantly, girls that have known me inside out and for years on end.

My girls back home have no trouble calling me out to my face. They tell me when I’m going overboard, they keep me in check, they let me rant relentlessly and analyze until death, and they hold my hand when I’m falling apart.

They’ve dragged me away from douche bags I’ve been deep in infatuation with. They’re  the ones who remind me to keep it locked. They’ve sent me flowers when I was all alone living in a boring hick town. They bake me cupcakes just to let me know they’re thinking of me. They’ve also left me sleeping on a bike rack in the middle of downtown at night, but hey, it was a long time ago and I kinda deserved it!

I can do perfectly fine without a man showering me with endless attention. But without the support of good friendships? Out of the question.

So I love my guy friends and all. But I’m pretty sure electroactive is not sitting around crying himself a river because I’m gone. I could never do any of that stuff with dudes! I think I tried one time and they looked at me as if I were on crack (and rightfully so). So what is it that I do with guys? Well I like listening to them talk. And they come to me for emo stuff. But it really has to do more with me laughing. I tend to gravitate towards either really funny guys, or really smart guys.

So no more whining about having a lack of local female counterparts! If it’s one thing I can do, it’s implementing a game plan and executing it thoroughly. Am now taking applications for loyal women friends. Although I pride myself in being open mind, I’m also kind of picky. Boring people and I do not mix well. But maybe beggars can’t be choosers at this point? 

I’ve been strategizing for quite a while, and number one on the check list is joining a book club. It’s time like these that I envy men. At least dudes can just hop over to a bar and pick up random women. But if this doesn’t pick me up some book-wormy, chatty chicks, I don’t know what will!

Any advice/tips on how/where to pick up women for myself? Pointers are warmly welcomed.

I know I'm missing a few more of you, but always in my <3.

smiley is not smiley without you.

i know. so cheese! SO ME!!