nothing compares

I am probably the most gullible person on the planet. And the biggest problem with that is my indifference. Sadly, I've embraced my naivete and accepted that even though I'm being spoon-fed lies, I like them and I don't want to stop hearing them.

I love hearing his lies. Those lies keep me smiling. His lies make me happy. Nothing compares.

i could put my arms around every boy i see/ but they'd only remind me of you

And even when someone else finds a way to make me happy, somehow his lies sneak back into view. I can be distracted by the truth, but still I'd want hear his lies. I willingly walk away from something honest and possible and promising to run toward those beautiful, compromising lies. He has such a way with me. He has such a way with everyone. So then, it can't be entirely my fault that I'm so addicted.

But I should know better than to fall in love with the same lies that I've seen others fall for. I should know better. But nothing compares.

since you've been gone i can do whatever i want/ but nothing can take away these blues

Picking lies over the truth. Giving in to "ignorance is bliss". Convincing myself that this messed up situation is actually a good one, could actually work out in my best interest. At one point seeing all that in writing would have turned me around, could have changed the path I'm set on... but I'm past that point... I'm so deep in this that I have no hope of turning around.

And I have no desire to.

Just the thought of those lies stirs up flutters in my stomach, speeds my heartbeat, pulls an amazing real smile across my face. Ah. Nothing compares.

because nothing compares- nothing compares to you.

L

*lyrics from Sinead O'Connor's "Nothing Compares to You"

the pure and simple truth

I've been reading the Between Boyfriends Book, which is a collection of essays by a woman who writes about dating. (By "been reading", I mean I started it yesterday while I got a pedicure, and thats as far as I've gotten. Just to be honest.) 

Regardless of my reading habits, the author made a really brilliant point on page 4- right up in the beginning of this book. She had me. Here's the revelation: 

Men (some) put off breakups and approach them in idiotic ways because 'they don't want to make you cry'. Thing is "we're not crying because of them, we're crying because now we have to get naked in front of someone else. It's enough already." 

Can I get an Amen? 

As a recent breakup survivor, I feel qualified to talk about the art of surviving post-breakup. (If you require more credentials, I'll send you my Vita.) At first, there are tears. You cry because the relationship has ended, because an important chapter of your life has screeched to a halt, because you are faced with a big hole in your previously blissfully whole world.

But right after that, literally right after- an almost seamless transition you may not even notice, you cry because you have to do it ALL OVER AGAIN. That reality is possibly more daunting than getting over 'him'. 

And so the post-breakup hustle begins. You go to the gym more often (which could mean once a month, but you're still going). You start master cleansing diets (lemon juice, cayenne pepper, and syrup, anyone? Slim quick? Detox tea?). You counteract all the ice cream and wine with nothing but water during the day.  You cover yourself in lotion after every shower and self tanner after every exfoliation. (Yes, you exfoliate now. On a bi-weekly basis.) You try to become your pre-relationship self because she could be naked and proud. She was hot. 

Reality check.

Unfortunately, you aren't her. And the person you are now STILL has to get naked in front of someone else someday. And that, my friends, is the truth. 

The ugly truth. 

L