TWWBP Project

It doesn't break even.

He lied to me about many important things he should have been honest with from the start. He made up so many fantastic stories and until this day I don’t understand why he had to do that.

He said he is separated from his wife because he cheated on him a few times over. And he married her only to give his sons a name. Like he couldn't tell me all the details of their separation because he's protecting someone. They don't talk anymore and when they do, it always end up in a fight. He's leaving for Venezuela to think about what to do after telling his sons about us. He suffers from a really bad headache, he starts and ends the day with it. He doesn't love her anymore. He's taking her back for their children's sake. And many many more preposterous stories.

He told me many sacred words and promises, too that sounded like he meant them and intended to keep them.

Like he’s coming home to see me last summer. Like I am the one he wanted to be with all his life. Like he loves me, forever and always, and he hopes to marry me someday, and couldn't bear living his life without me. I completed him and made him really really happy.

The truth is … his wife was just waiting for her petition papers and that long wait made him miss her so much that he needed some kind of entertainment to shake those blues away. His wife flew from the Philippines to the US, last November. I never heard from him again. Just some pictures in Facebook, happy together in Houston.

I'm left with all the broken pieces … of why he had to wait for 3 decades, for him to deceive me and break my heart, when we both know, in mid life, there’s little time to forgive, forget, and heal.

... of how I will spend my remaining years, and never understand, like long for that boy i really really adore, he shows up after 30 years , and this is what I get.

***

Daniel Handler explains the TWWBU Project

Why We Broke Up is my new novel, in the form of a long letter from a girl named Min Green to a boy named Ed Slaterton. The letter comes with a box, and inside the box are all of the souvenirs from their love. Each of the items is the subject of a painting by Maira Kalman.

In order to write and illustrate this tale of heartbreak, Maira and I dug deep into our own romantic histories, remembering all of the times we’ve been dumped, particularly by [name redacted] and, in Maira’s case, [name redacted]. It was almost like getting our hearts broken all over again, several times, and it doesn’t seem fair that we would have to do this and you wouldn’t.

This website allows you to share your stories of heartbreak with us, just as we shared ours with you. Our hope is that the Why We Broke Up project will enable all of our heartbreak to reach critical mass, so that, unlike [name redacted], it will never bother us again.

***

Irma Vanta explains :) ... why she got into this :)

Travelling alone for 5 to 6 hours. A bit costly for a business trip that went a little wayward LOL ... but then ... as always ... such a blessing in disguise ... my head started working ... i threw my lavander ballet flats in the sack, and put on my floral flip flops , and brave typhoon Ferdie umbrellaless.

Such a road trip will definitely trigger this monsterous ADHD LOL ... my cp running out of batteries ... 2 batteries huh ... parking my playlist without my will :( ... last week, I finally finished Women with Big Eyes (so what's the next best thing to do but grab a E.L. James' 50 Greys ...

I went to the nearest bookstore, befriended the supervisor so she made some calls, low, medium, high end. Zip zilch nada. I ran upstairs in Netopia, and surfed, all possible imaginable branches. Zip zilch nada. Second option. Another title. After looking at some other bestsellers downstairs ... I googled reviews.

That was how I got here. This got me at hello. But it was tearjerk as put together my 10 cents worth together.

I recall, my good friend Pia, texted me last week... blistering message :) ... she questioned why it was hard for me to get over an unconsummated love ...

I'll send her this, too. I hope this explains ...

Aunt Daniela

I almost gave up on this one.

Early last year, my friend, Dianni gave me this book. One of her no-occasion gifts to me.

Thoughtful surprises fascinate me. I have this thing with spontaneity really :) ... sincere impulse is nature's gift to us. Getting old with all things pompous and mediocre. I appreciate sweetest stuff like this from really good friends (or may be strangers why not :) ). It's lyke Bok 'Enggay buying me some of my favorite things for Soph and I's dining ... a pair of strawberry saucers and flower power plates :)

So finally getting side tracked many many times, all those fuckin' heartaches and heartbreaks. A sorrowful year that was and on comin still, fuck! One bus ride and it was all done.

The second to the last story. My story ...

"La Tia Daniela se eamoro como se enamoran simepre las mujeres inteligentes como una idiota. Lo habia isto llegar ua mañana, caminando cn los hombros erguidos sobre un paso sereno y habia pensado: "Este hombre se cree Dios". Pero el rato de oirlo decir historias sobre mundos desconocidos y pasiones extrañas, se enamoro de el y de sus brazos como si desde niña no hablara latin, no supiera logica, ni hubiera sorprendido a media ciudad copiando los juegos de Hongora y Sor Juana como quien responded a una cancion en el recreo

... Lo quiso conensida de qu Dios puede andar entre mortales, entregada hasta las uñasd a los deseos y ocurrencias de un tipo que nunca llego para quedarse y jamas entendio uno solo de todos los poemas que Daniela quiso leerle para explicar su amor.

Un dia, asi como habia llegado, se fue sin despedir siquiera. Y no hubo entonces en la redonda inteligencia de la tia Daniela un solo atisbo capaz de entender que habia pasado.

Hipnotizada por un dolor sin nombre ni destino se volvio la mas tonta de las tontas. Perderlo fue una pena larga como el insomnio, una vejez de siglos, el inferno.

Pur unos dias de luz, por un indicio, por los ojos de hierro y suplica que le presto una oche, la tia Daniela enterro las ganas de estar iva y fue perdiendo el brillo de la piel, la fuerza de las pernas, la intensidad en la frente y las entrañas.

Se quido case cega en tres meses, una joroba la crecio en la espalda, y also le sucedio a su termostato que a pesar de andar hasta en el rayo del sol con abrigo y calcentines, tiritaba de frio como si iviera en el centro mismo del inveirno. La sacaban al aire como a un canario. Cerca le ponian fruta y galletas para que pioteara, pero su madre se llevaba las cosas intactas, mientras ella seguia a [ersar de los esfuerzos que todo el mundo hacia por distraerla.

De remate son mentirosos. Pero no tienes que dejarte, tu eres Tauro. Son fuertes las mujeres de Tauro.

Mentiras si que dijo --- le contesto Dainela una tarde.

Cuales? No se te vaya a olvidar. Porque el mundo no es tan grande como para que no demos con el, y entonces le vas a recordar sus palabras. Una por una, las que oiste y las que te hizo decir.

No quiero humillarme.

El humillado va a ser el. Si no todo es tan facil como sembrar palabras y largarse.

Me ilumianro --- defendio la tia Daniela.

Se te nota iluminada --- decia su amiga cuando llegaban a puntos asi.

Le gustaban las uvas --- dijo la enferma.

Entiendo que lo extrañes.

Si --- di jo la enferma acercabdose un racimo de uvas. Besaba regio. Y tenia suave la piel de los hombros la cintura.

Como tenia? Ya sabes -- dijo la amiga como si supiera desde siempre la que la torturaba/

No te lo voy a decir --- contesto riendose por primera vez en meses. Luego comio queso y te, oan y mantequilla.

Rico? -- le pregunto Elide.

Si --- contesto la enferma empezando a ser ella.

Una noche bajaron a cenar. La tia Daniela con un vestiodo nuevo y el pelo brillante y limpio, libre por fin de la trenza polvosa que no se habia peinando en mucho tiempo.

Veinte dias despues ella y su amiga habian repasado los recuerdos de arriba para baajo hasta convertirlos en trivia. Todo lo que habia tratado de olvidar la tia Daniela forzandose a no pensarlo, se le volvio indigno de recuerdo despues de repetirlo muchas veces. Castigo su buen juicio oyendose contar una tras otra las ciento veinte mil tonterias que la habian hecho feliz y desgraciada.

Ya no quiero ni vengarme --- le dijo una mañana a Elide --- Estoy aburridisima del tema.

No vamos a perseguir a ese homre que te enamoro como a una imbecil y luego se fue?

Tenemos que ir a buscarlo. No te vuelvas inteligente antes de tiempo --- la decia.

Llego ayer --- le contesto la tia Daniela un mediodia.

Como sabes?

Lo vi. Toco en el balcon como antes.

Y que sentiste?

Nada.

Y que te dijo?

Todo.

L que le contestaste?

Cerre.

Y ahora? --- pergunto la terapista.

Ahora si nos vamos a Italia: los ausentes siempre se equivocan.

Y se fueron a Italia por la voz del Dante: "Poi piovve dentro a l'alta fantasia". "

wiegenlaid

its like lullabye at night. that rocks me to sleep. like a repititious prayer, my lips move, my tears fall. i doze off in a minute or two. my agenda is acceptance: so, almost getting there ... this exercise never fails ... each time i am at the brink of love ... i tell this litany to myself, over and over and over and over and over again:

that night, you were bored. a little entertainment wont hurt.
your wife's away, it does get a bit cold and lonely in your room.
or may be you got into one those childish gone ugly fights again, and it was your chance to get even.
why not, for that, youd get free hugs, lotsa kisses, some honest lovin'.
didnt i make you swoon, melt, swell, each time i tell you i love you, honey.
when something you love to do, like sex, is scarce, virtual is better than none.

you had 2 crushes in grade school, me and Imelda (billed that way in Rey's slumbook)
that night, it could have been her instead of me.

i was easy for you. to get and forget.

Facebook Musings

... sana lang, if I'll never know why ... Please don't let it happen. I think that's just fair nuff.

***

... bumping my friend Lucky ...

If you miss somebody, and call. He won’t pick up, drop it, turn cp off, block you. Then snap on you for disturbing his movie time with his son.



If you invite because you wanna meet up. He’ll tell he wanna see you, too and misses you and all that but won’t show up.

If you explain to be understood. Still he wouldn’t understand. As if your feeling matters.

If you ask for clarification. He’d definitely lie!

If you say what you don’t like about this and that. Again, as if it matters what you like and don’t like.

If you ask for what you want. He’d say yes but still won’ t give. Because he can't and never intended to.

And the last one is the killer shot … despite of all the love, said and done … he’d vanish into thin air … without a word … or a decent goodbye … but a barrage of photos all over Facebook of himself, his so called ex-wife, and their son.

and you know what happen next.

(see the complications it brought me , because at one point in my life, I was actually trying to keep it simple.)

***

‎@Minnet :) ... because ... for all the 3 decades that were lost, the wasted love, our separate lives, for all the sadness and the hurt, at least one of us has gotta to be happy, and find wisdom in all these, to put meaning of why this happened between two people professing love for each other … there’s gotta be reason for all these. He made his choice. He’s got to try to be happy with that. Or else, all these, but a useless exercise. Nobody deserves to wear unhappiness down the grave. That's why. .... SO HE'S GOT TO BE DOING FINE!

(not to justify but to put meaning and value to all your actions otherwise all these would be useless, senseless, and regrets set in like you cannot forgive yourself... Isnt it a waste to spend a lifetime that way... So i leave you this prayer ...) --- May the bridges you burn light your way

poor math and bad grammar

from Annie Atkin's A Little Pinch of Salt ... (one of my current fave reads online ...)

A simple mathematical equation

How long were you together? he asks, pressing a stethoscope against my back. Two and three-quarter years, I say. And how long is it since you split up? he asks. Two and three-quarter months, I say. Everyone always asks the same two questions, and I wonder if there's some kind of mathematical equation that I'm unaware of going on here.

I am back at the doctor, just making sure this small pain I still have in my chest isn't pneumonia. No, it's not pneumonia, he says. I wonder if maybe, just maybe, it could be my heart? He wonders why a healthy young woman thinks it could possibly be her heart.

There's nothing wrong with your heart, he says, putting the stethoscope away. But I'd like to do a chest X-Ray, anyway. There may have been some damage to your ego.

My ego? My ego is in my chest? I never knew that! I never knew that, I say. I never knew my ego was located in my chest.

No, says the doctor. Not many people do.

--

Later, as I wait for the results, I notice a framed photograph on his desk: two small children running along a beach, a dog, and a pretty woman in a dress. He must have used his surgical scissors to carefully cut it out of a catalogue one afternoon.

Like I thought, he says, striding back into the room. Bruising all down one side.

I've never seen an ego before. It's like a jelly-fish up there on the lightbox, caught mid-squirm in my upper rib-cage. I can see a face in it, if I squint. My ego looks like Jack Nicholson, I think.

Is it a particularly big ego? I ask, wide-eyed.

He shrugs. It's a little on the large side.

And the bruising? I whisper, almost afraid to ask. How much longer is this terrible bruising going to last?

It's been two and three-quarter months now, Annie, he whispers back, leaning in to tell me exactly what I want to hear. This will all be over by midnight tonight. A simple mathematical equation: a month for every year.

***

this gypsy's taste of that pinch of salt ...

You go to rehab ... to fix yourself ... then a single mention of his name, sightings of an old picture he sent to you ... over hearing love songs he emailed ... accidental glimpse of threads in FB and YM ... faces of common friends ... memories good and bad ... you spiral into relapse ... slip into coma.

It's much harder after that ...