Joel and I walked Butterfield on the ice today, around and around the outdoor rink. Butters digs in and pulls me around, all I have to do is set my center of gravity just so, so that I won't get pulled off my feet and I bend my knees and get a hell of a fun ride.

Joel thinks that everything is fucked up. He never has anything new to say anymore.

I'm considering moving and just starting over somewhere where no one knows me. Meet someone who knows nothing about me, maybe in the witness protection program. A new name, a new life. A new start without all this. And go back to not saying a word and not listening and not doing much of anything, quietly and somberly, the way I spent my first thirty-five or so years.

Except that everyone would find me. Christ, it took you guys a whole four hours to find that goddamned Flickr page that Ben said he took down and didn't. You guys are relentless. And every time I think I can trust Ben one hundred percent he lies to me.

I can't disappear. It's too late for that. It's too late for everything and whatever brief respite that comes is gone before I can savor it and I'm tired. And THIS is the self-destruction that results, at least it brings feeling of some kind.

Off to therapy, a perfect chance for them to see precisely how un-pulled-together I can really be.

Numbly so.

    Show me that you love me and that we belong together.
    Relax, turn around and take my hand.

    I can help you change tired moments into pleasure.
    Say the word and we'll be well upon our way.
    Blend and balance pain and comfort
    Deep within you until you will not want me any other way.

    But it's not enough.
    I need more.
    Nothing seems to satisfy.
    I said, I don't want it.
    I just need it.
    To breathe, to feel, to know I'm alive.

There are a lot of things in this world that don't make any sense.

And then there is Tool.

I'm going to ignore Caleb and not write about him, as so many of you have suggested now. There isn't a judge left in this city who would grant an order of protection against him now, since I went to him willingly and I take his calls because I'm a masochist and a curious one at that, but I'm not afraid of him in that way. Mentally, maybe but never physically. He wouldn't touch his niece or nephew and the guys have gone out of their collective ways to remind me that they can take care of themselves. I know they can, they shouldn't be in a position where they have to.

Thank you for the emails so far, though sadly it's an experiment I'll never repeat again. You've been kind and beautiful and almost completely unanimous. You sound like everyone here. My cheering squad just grew and I have no idea what I ever did to deserve such beautiful surroundings.

I fear I might have been one of the few holdouts.

I'm going to give you an excerpt from one letter received Sunday morning, very early.


    Dear Bridget,

    You've already gone to great lengths to point out you love him. You've known each other for years. You've fought over stupid things with him but you made up easily. You two are more alike than anyone else you know. He would die for you, he's already proven himself to be protector of your heart. He looks out for you without a single thought as to what might be in it for him. He doesn't try to trick you, making sure that you're aware of his feelings without smothering you with them. He's hurt by the way you pass him over sometimes but he gets over it and aside from one incredibly stupid drunk action that you already forgave him for, he won't hurt you. Ever. Except with a rant because you're so damn frustrating. You should really let him grow on you.

    And he makes really good scallops in linguini if you're up for that for dinner tonight. Oh, and he is soon to be homeless and wants to know if you'll take in a boarder. Oh and he loves the kids as if they were his but of course they aren't because no one has the same glorious plain brown hair/brown eyes thing happening. Oh, and he'll try and stop being so clumsy. Oh and really you should share all the other stuff you leave out so that people see how cool he really is.

    Because I love you even though you're a little pain in the ass.

    Ben
It's sort of like he gave his own closing arguments at a trial, isn't it? Of course it does, because loving me is obviously some sort of death sentence.

Fear nothing.

(Bar the door, PJ. It's all gone to hell.)

A very interesting email came today. Not to me, though.

This one was from Caleb to Ben, offering Ben an incredibly lucrative job, an advancement over what he does now in accounting (by day, mind you), a letter that would buy him a free pass out of the prairies and he would only be beholden to Caleb in some way or another for the rest of his natural life.

Caleb, who first finds your weaknesses and then uses them to destroy you. It's how things are done in his world. This letter went on to say that Ben should cut his losses and just go, that he is not worthy of me, that I am out of his league and I will never get out of my own way for a 'nobody' like him and that he can have anything his heart desires where Caleb is, that Caleb will personally see to it that Ben's life out there surpasses any life he could have hoped to build here.

That Ben will forget me and all the heartache I have caused him.

That if he doesn't go, a veiled threat was made, to be very incredibly aware that Ben swimming in waters with sharks, that I belong to Caleb and anyone who fucks with that is playing with fire.

In spite of Ben's assurances that Caleb can't touch us, that I'm safe as long as I stay away from him, that he's only a guy with a big ego and some good connections, we can just ignore him and continue on, I shook my head.

Caleb originally called Ben to come get me from his hotel room not because Ben is my best friend and he knew he'd look after me while I was fucked up and high but because Caleb mistakenly assumed Ben would help him cover it up. He thought I would be too ashamed to write about it, let alone talk about it.

His ego won't allow for any sort of rationality at this point. His brother's death has become his ax to grind and his sister-in-law is the wheel. His own perversions will supersede any common sense I thought he had left.

He called me a little while ago and told me he could easily take Ben and eliminate him, dangle Ben's favorite forbidden vices in front of him and Ben would soon cave in and then when Ben is ruined and long gone I'll only have Caleb left and if I just maintain the status quo then I can have my cake and eat it too. That I can keep Ben as my friend, at arms' length and Caleb gets to do whatever it is that Caleb does, namely destroy Bridget for kicks. After he's done licking her all over, that is.

I think my choice has been made for me. It's just a door, guys. You can't stop him, and I won't give him Ben.

A request for your thoughts, if I may.

Hi. This post is probably going to be a mistake but hey, aren't they all?

I'm still here. I'm cold. It's cold in here. I turned the heat down and my hand is throbbing tonight even though it's faded to a lovely pinkish-red blotch where Joel's pen went in and I'm a little sick to my stomach and tired but doing pretty well and really, there's no rhyme or reason to my posting anymore, so you get some extra thoughts at some strange hours.

My apologies if you can't keep up with the volume. Sometimes it can't be helped. Sometimes I'm lonely and I feel like talking but I don't want replies.

And sometimes I do want replies. If you can swallow any more of my dumb replies to your emails, I'd like to poll this jury of readers I have collected.

Answer honestly for me and I'll share a lot more. What do you think of Ben? Am I crazy to want to be with someone so soon? Is it this normal to be afraid to be alone? Is my confusion warranted or should I have a better handle on my own life?

I have been alone but not alone for almost eleven weeks now. Not long at all with regards to my heart but an eternity inside my head. No one here has been any help at all with answers.

No one is objective. And it's such a popular subject these days.

Tell me what you think, and I'll tell you what he says. It might surprise you. And no he won't mind this post. He's sleeping in the guest room downstairs and yeah, the door is still locked.

An update.

I'm home. I'm okay. I get to skip a few pills and rest for a while, my blood pressure was elevated, as were my blood levels and so yes, I need to drink more water and look after myself better. Even when I'm being looked after just wonderfully there are things I need to do that I get lackadaisical about. Ben has harangued me suitably for it, no worries. Overall I am doing well health-wise and surprisingly well emotionally.

Ironic.

The best news of the morning wasn't that I'm okay or that I could reschedule family therapy for later on today. No, the best news?

123 pounds.

Me.

Hahaha.

Canceling therapy due to opening my mouth after being up but not talking to say good morning and slurring it just a little too much. Headed downtown for a blood test instead. I haven't had enough water this week. Will update later. Don't worry. I'm okay.

Setbacks are normal.

This disheartening feeling, normal. Yeah.

Spookyscopes.

    Good times, bad times,
    You know I had my share
    When my woman left home
    With a brown eyed man,
    Well, I still don't seem to care.

Friday night. Godsmack on the stereo. Ice water in tall glasses and a damned good book to read. Ben is on his phone with PJ, who is stuck somewhere, I have no idea, I don't read lips but he was driving back and never appeared and seems to be somewhere in Ontario maybe? August is emailing me horoscopes every ten minutes and Joel called once. Really, it's a lovely super-down quiet night.

Here, have a look at this total spookiness:

    Sagittarius and Taurus:

    Taurus sees an adventure in Sagittarius. These two signs will party, play and be very good friends. There is much to be learned from one another. They will have similar ideas and share common goals. Sagittarius will be instantly attracted to sensual Taurus. Taurus will stick with Sagittarius in sickness and in health. Sagittarius will feel at home with Taurus. Taurus will find Sagittarius independence very attractive. This is a highly rewarding combination that has both long and short term potential. Before they know it, they could fall madly in love. Taurus is serious and sensual. Sagittarius considers Taurus a keeper and friendship will be evident long after the attraction has ended. You will learn more about yourselves in this relationship. Itís worth the insight.

For the record, I'm a Taurus, Ben is a Sagittarius. His birthday was December 2nd. He's not 36 though. He's 39.

No, THIS is Sparta.

See, that's one of the problems. If I begin to tip-toe around my own life for fear of offending anyone, I go back to square one. If I make a stand and choose who I want to spend time with, who gets to take which child out for what fun, who gets my attentions and who become godfathers, feelings are hurt.

At the end of the day it is not lost on me that these guys fancy themselves warriors from the middle ages. Fighting for their way of life, and infighting over perceived atrocities. Putting their women on pedestals and trying to be too tough and too fierce to let anything under their skins. They want food, lots of physical activity and a warm woman in their bed at night. They don't want to be nagged or bothered or hindered by complications. They joke around a lot but mostly they have forged a brotherhood that has withstood just about everything that has been thrown at it and it means everything to them.

Instead of a queen, they fight in the name of their princess. Instead of leather garments and armor they were jeans. Instead of swords they use fists to conquer their enemies and awful words exchanged with fervor and instead of sending word via messengers they use their blackberries. Few of them ever shave and their horses are metal, trucks in the winter. You hear them coming from the bottom step and as a group they are impenetrable.

They have a war cry, a secret handshake (shhhhh) and devotion. They have a creed. They have honor. They, so they have told me, have better bodies than the painted-on muscles of the guys in 300. I've seen most of them, I can vouch for that.

They have heart.

But I won't stand for being the one thing that divides them. They tell me I can't, it won't, but I do and it has. A million times over, every last argument and problem and concern has been because of me.

Humble apologies for the hurt that I have caused.

(Thursdays at five, Ben shows up and stays with us for three days straight. It's wonderful.)

Oh. Well, just shit.

I hit a nerve. I hit several.

Way back when I started writing this journal, Ben started reading it with a vested interest. He left comments, dissected my entries and began his own blog, which he stopped using and all but erased after writing some less than stellar entries about me and getting grief for it, most likely in retaliation for me writing about him. I closed my comments. He took down his Flickr account too. It was just easier to write without the immediate feedback and without pictures of me all over the web. Sometimes I don't feel very self-assured. I even check the email for the site only when I feel like I won't be skinned alive for what I've put down here. I don't talk about this place with my friends. They read, they usually keep their feelings about it to themselves.

And it didn't seem to matter what I shared over the past two years. I kept a lot private though. Mostly for Ben's own privacy issues and some because, contrary to popular belief, my life isn't an open book. You don't know the half of it. All of it I hid under the guise of his double life. So he could have a quiet life when he is home and not on the road.

In any event, he's never had a problem with my honesty or my verbal spillage until tonight, when he reads that he 'gets to play Dad without recourse or responsibility', which he took as a full-on insult, personally. That he plays with our lives and doesn't have to answer for it. That he might be shallow or flippant and not interested in an investment.

Ben would now like me to tell the internet that he most definitely will take on whatever responsibilities we can throw at him and he will gladly be on the hook. In his world, there is much recourse and he wants it. Greedily so, but he's been very good with not pressuring me and I've been REALLY FREAKING GREAT at not molesting Christian and Joel in return.

Yeah. What a pair.

In any event, should I pass his involvement off as lightweight any time ever again, his Flickr account goes back up. It's extortion of a different kind, though I pointed out I don't want to see pictures from dinners and barbecues and sports events and camping trips. I don't want to see Jacob smiling and happy. Or me, for that matter.

Ben corrects me still and reminds me of the wardrobe malfunctions, the epic number of sticking-my-tongue-out replies to his request for photos and the few truly awful candids he feels belong on the internet for all to see.

I'm doomed.

So, yes, this is my convoluted apology and my comeuppance, all rolled into one bedtime snack of crow. I spoke out of turn. These boys are gold and I never forget it for a second. Ever. I would be lost without them. Possibly dead but I'll get shit on for saying that, so I'll just say thank you instead.

And that it goes both ways. If I had a nickel for every photo I took of a drunken Ben I'd be...well, just nevermind. His account stays empty and I will never cheapen their roles in our lives again.

Let there be more light. And more words.

Of course there's more. I'm so unsettled this morning. I stopped running. I've got nowhere to put all this endless energy and yet to look at me you'd tell me to go lie down, that I look worn out.

I did finish replying to all the emails here. And I'm sorry, I couldn't write a decent email to save my soul. They're just awkward and cold somehow. Kind of like Bridget.

What pisses me off is to watch the kids with the boys. They gravitate to them for odd things, like bedtime stories, help with piano practice or sledding. Help opening boxes or building Lego. Talk over cookies. Not even deep talks, just random stream of consciousness-type conversations about harmonicas and marshmallows, or about school and the weather. They crave male influence almost as much as I do. Part of me wants to be everything for them now and the other part smartly knows I never will be, that I can't be.

Every night they ask me if whoever is here can put them to bed, tuck them in and start their music boxes and leave their doors cracked open just so the nightlight in the hall spills in enough to keep them from fearing the dark. Every night I say yes and Joel or Chris or Ben or John or August or whoever is here takes the most important and solemn of honorable tasks and sends them off in comfort to their dreams, playing dad with no recourse or responsibility.

I don't know why it makes me angry but it does. It's one thing for me to deal with all of this, some that I caused, some that I didn't, but for the kids to have to manage life in a quiet uproar, missing people they loved so much, well, it just isn't fair.