breaking up.

A break up can be a long, lonely road. Especially, if one of the parties involved disagrees with the reasoning for the break-up or wishes to struggle to continue to the relationship.

Add in distance, limited capabilities to communicate, and the tricks and treats of combat zones and leading a platoon; and well — you’ve got my situation exactly.

Let me be up front and honest right now:

- I was the one who initiated the break up.

- For the most part, I am also the reason the relationship began careening irreversibly into a wall of resentment.

I know, I know, I know what you are going to say. It takes two to tango, and this is true. However, in this particular instance, I can own up to committing three key relationship “no-gos.” I violated that old wisdom that mothers and fathers and friends have been trying to impart on me for over a decade. Until now, I just couldn’t understand the consequences of doing so.

For all intensive purposes, I shall refer to my relationship as “R4.” This is because this relationship is the fourth relationship in my adult life to last more than eight months. [READ MORE]

POLL: One-on-One or Free Love For All?

For those friends of mine that have known me for a decade or more, they know that jealousy has always been my weak spot. Ever since I was a teen, I’ve always allowed all those deep, dark fears to warp themselves into a solid rock of jealousy.

Oddly enough, within the last year, I’ve been doing TONS of reading on open relationships, intimacy, jealousy, and the such. I’ve spoken with several friends at length pertaining to their experiences with open relationships. It seems almost oxymoronic, but my desire to conquer my jealousy; and my belief via very recent personal experiences that love cannot be contracted and contained have led me to an interesting crossroads. [READ MORE AND VOTE!]

no.

No.

I never quite mastered that one syllable word.

One syllable.

Why is it so hard?

I can say things like “ameliorate,” and “cacophony.” I can write poems and plays and short stories. I can digest literature in various forms from various time periods and from a multitude of cultures and perspectives.

Commanding words is my life. It is how I move from page to page of this existence.

Yet one word sticks in my throat like peanut butter on a hot day.

Why?

Because I have yet to conquer that one lingering fear, that one monster in my closet, that one wild beast living under my bed. My boogie man is rejection. Or at least, what I perceive as rejection. [READ MORE]