*blue balls not included.
I’m Christmas shopping at the mall today with my dad. I walk into the department store where “it” happened almost eight years ago. Eight years earlier I bumped into HSS with someone else. He was showing her what he wanted for Christmas. Just as he did with me a week earlier.
The memories came flowing back; it almost took my breath away. All the things I wanted to scream, to just “FUCK YOU!” and nothing came out. He introduced me, and I just walked away with my tail between my legs, or my heart shoved through my ass — one-in-the-same, I suppose. That had to be the hardest I’ve ever been hurt in my whole life. I wonder if that’s why I dreaded Christmas for years after.
Funny how it just came back today.
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This blog is about pursuit: a transplanted Clevelander (me) in a new city (that's you, Pittsburgh!), pursuing the role of a self-employed copywriter, becoming a roller derby badass and somehow merging all my to-do items into one ever-growing Bucket List.
And of MY boyfriend. His blue balls started this mess.
