Rebel without a pause.

    Can't you see that you're smothering me
    Holding too tightly afraid to lose control
    Cause everything that you thought I would be
    Has fallen apart right in front of you
    Every step that I take is another mistake to you
    And every second I waste is more than I can take

Here, have the confusion and the doubt, I'll just sprinkle it all around myself and distract you with pretty while my insides turn black. Like a rotten birthday cake or a dead rose.

Why should I? Why would I bend to his will? What do I owe him? The last time I checked, just because he asked, just because he put himself out there and made the offer it doesn't mean that I am bound to accept it. Just because he's somewhat loyal doesn't mean that I have to do a damned thing.

Here's the point. He's holding out. You don't get it. I can use him for companionship. I don't ever have to be alone. Especially at night. I can be safe. He uses me because when I next feel self-destructive, he'll be in the right place, having craved my body long before he ever offered to share my heart. The hype. I am so overrated but it's too late for reason.

For everyone who keeps reminding me that I'm harsh on him, I find it funny how quickly you forget his motive for being my friend for at least half of our relationship. For everyone holding their breath for us to hook up remember you'd be pairing two ruined souls. We fight. A lot. I looked him straight in the eye earlier this year and told him I would never love him like that and he was fine with it. He didn't care about that, he was too distracted thinking about fucking me. Who is the bigger masochist? Who has the most to lose? I can't answer those questions. I DON'T FUCKING KNOW.

I forgave him for that, though. I did.

Maybe we deserve each other and I should give him whatever he wants. Let's face it. I'm holding out for...what? I didn't hold out for Caleb. I never held out for Jake. If I sleep with him maybe he'll stick around and maybe he'll be off and ready for his next conquest or six. He's been with a lot of girls in his life, I'm just one on a list to be had.

I could even marry him. I could just start in on him and rip him to pieces and leave him in my wake, another casualty of Bridget's fragile, twisted fucked-up love. Whatever definition you want to give. And then he falls off his wagon and everyone blames me. Or worse. I could give him a real shot and wind up hurt worse than Cole ever hurt me. Or Jake for that matter.

Oh, yeah, let's not go there. No one wants their day ruined hearing about Bridget screaming in pain and Cole laughing. He used to tell Ben things and Ben would agree with him, that I was around for their use. That Ben could have me. Dangling me like a piece of meat in front of my friends and he could force my hands behind my back and shove me forward and I would have tears streaming down my face and Ben felt guilty because Cole was going too far. But what of the desire it brought out in Ben? Do you think I didn't see it? I saw it then and I saw it the night he touched me when he was loaded. I saw it written all over his face and I just tucked it away for later. His betrayal stung me but at the same time I loved it. I loved it that he wanted me so bad. I always knew. But I tucked it away. For later.

Now, it is later. And my only thoughts of revenge lean toward stealing his presence for my comfort, exploiting a history he no longer cares about. At the same time falling in love with this guy because he won't get out of my way. It's too soon, it's all wrong and it won't ever be fair to anyone.

Here's the one shining point to be the wrench in the gears. I don't feel crazy with him. Never have. If you'll notice anything striking, out of all the times I've gone down screaming he is nowhere to be found. I left him out of it. I never thought he could handle me being uncontrollable because he's always had his own monkey to wrestle with. When he came to the hotel, that was his very first attempt to pull me out of the fire. He did well. And for some reason when he's around I feel like he and I are on the same page, that we make decisions together, we talk and no one gets the upper hand, no one is in charge, we're just us. Not crazy, though, never crazy. Never unstable, never fucked up. I have a love for him that is so different and so profound I can't even describe it to him or to myself. Why do you think he never leaves me, even when he tells me he hates me? We're already in love, it's been five years now.

How does that happen?

    I've become so numb I can't feel you there
    Become so tired so much more aware
    I'm becoming this all I want to do
    Is be more like me and be less like you

So this is where we are. You may say I'm stupid or foolish or easy or you may say I'm in pain and looking for a way out or a way in to dilute that pain and you might say it's a disaster in the making, but it's okay.

Because I still can't hear you.

And this is my kitchen sink.

    Stay away from these rocks we'd be a walking disaster
    (don't reach out, don't reach out)
    Just cause you feel it doesn't mean it's there
    (there's someone on your shoulder)

Mmmm, internet I am up far too early for my taste on a Sunday but Butters was barking and Ben isn't responsible for letting him out even though they mostly sleep together now. I called Ben's phone from my bedroom to wake him up and beg him to let the dog out in exchange for french toast for breakfast but then I remembered his phone was charging in the kitchen when I went to bed last night.

We did manage to turn the game off long enough to catch the sickening end of another losing round of Leafs hockey. Everyone left around 10:30 and I went to bed to read around eleven, waking up with the book I was reading on my face at four a.m. I hate that. And then the dog at eight a.m. You can't tell me you're not going to wake up if that happens. But Ben pretends not to. He sleeps hard anyway. He sleeps like a rock, he doesn't move, he doesn't stir, sometimes I think he doesn't breathe or dream, He just drops.

If you're wondering how I know that there is a whole list of disastrous camping stories that left a bunch of us packed into one tent or the other, waiting out torrential rains, snowstorms, people who forget tents or large parts of them, wayward bears, rabid raccoons and other assorted situations that left him sleeping right behind me, curled around me, one arm down under my knees while Cole breathed down on my head in front of me, arms around my shoulders.

Yeah. Uh...

Anyway...

Today I have big plans. I'm going to church, going to try again now that people have stopped seeking me out for comment or curiosity, now that Sam has settled in and it doesn't feel like he's filling in and I'm only going to show Sam that I'm not avoiding him, even though I won't grant his request to come to the office and talk with him. I can't go in that office. But I can damn well stick my middle finger up at God and defiantly take my place in the sanctuary. I'm still angry with God and I'm hoping to change that.

After church we'll have a quick lunch and then I'm going shopping because I have no clothes. None. Everything is tight. Twenty pounds is a whole four sizes up and I'm happy for that but I don't know what to wear. Ben said just buy some jeans and one dress-up outfit and I'd be good to go. Maybe a couple of sweaters or something. I'm not used to shopping for myself and Cole and Jacob had the same tastes in what they liked to see me in and I think I'm done feeling like a doll. My plan today is to wear a sweater over my skirt which is held closed with pins because I can't get the zipper up. Haha.

After shopping I promised to head over to the outdoor rink before supper to watch Ben's game. They, unlike the Leafs, are doing well this year.

Dinner is at home tonight, since it's a school night. And I would like to go to bed early. I've been up for two hours and I'm already tired. I think it's because I feel the weight of God's expectations and it's a lot of work ignoring Him.

My rocker looks just like me.

I don't know quite what happened to this day, but it began with a phone call and Ben took off and was back fifteen minutes later. More phone calls were made and the room downstairs that functions as the official music room was left to gather dust as my living room was rearranged to accommodate Rock Band, the game.

I've never seen a more excited bunch of guys (and kids). They even had pledged an information blackout, vowing not to find out in advance what songs were on it. So, to our surprise, there was Ben's favorite song, one of the first ones you get to play, no less.

Remember my issues with REM being stuck in my head? Well, Ben has had the same problem now for years, but with Radiohead's Creep. He can be as self-disparaging as the rest of us and probably won't want you to know that he sings this to himself just about all the time he's not singing something else but I'll tell you anyway and probably everything else besides.

The game is a riot though. It will eat up your whole day if you're not careful. I thought it was eleven when I went to make lunch but it was already three o'clock. Something tells me they will play all night. That's okay. I love company. And I love music even more.

    I don't care if it hurts
    I want to have control
    I want a perfect body
    I want a perfect soul
    I want you to notice when I'm not around
    You're so fucking special
    I wish I was special

    But I'm a creep
    I'm a weirdo
    What the hell I'm doing here?
    I don't belong here

    She's running out again
    She's running out
    She runs runs runs

Baptized in alcohol.

Hmm. An interesting evening. Skateboard Jesus told me I looked fulfilled and asked where the preacher man was. I said dead and he nodded and said he expected it. I was about to ask him how and instead I was ushered away again. It was dark out. The restaurant beckoned with warm lights and enticing menus framed in the window.

I ate more than I usually do. I stole PJ's roll even. I had one glass of wine and I enjoyed myself. I didn't feel crazy or grief-stricken or abused or ruined or even fragile. I felt like Bridget, who once was a girl before she became this, whatever this is. This soulless bird who flits around perching in everyone's tree looking for a nest that was destroyed in a storm, rebuilt and then destroyed again. Looking for shelter, looking for refuge from future storms.

I don't feel crazy. I can talk about Cole. I can listen to stories about Jacob. I can endure gentle jokes and comments and others pointing out how much both men are missed. I can appreciate the lack of judgement over things they did in their lives that weren't quite right or so terribly wrong and I can revel in small moments where life doesn't hurt quite as much as it has in the past.

But maybe that's because I'm almost just about totally drunk off one forbidden glass of wine, because no one dares deny me that but had I asked for a second I would have been shut out completely. Tomorrow when I'm back to me again I'm sure I'll wake up beside crazy. It's just waiting for the good to wear off again. It stalks me.

And pathetic. Did I mention pathetic? Yeah, that's what I am.

It's a happy-pathetic though, no worries. A kind of wow, what a loser but at least she's doing well pathetic. A beautiful one.

And please for the love of God stop telling me to put the ring on. It's not about the ring. It's about the crystal ball. I have a really big shard of it left and it said my future is...

...uncertain.

But goofier than pathetic. THAT I can assure you. First day without pain of any kind. Tomorrow must be a doozy.

K, so drunk. Bye.

Tell me I could have everything.

So, the Sunday before the new year.

Our walk in the woods out at Nolan's. Snowshoes on for a good hard hike way out to picnic rock, a big flat rock by a rushing stream that was so loud it left me deaf and yet I had what felt like tunnel hearing while Ben talked, laying the ninth marriage proposal of my young life on my head to weigh me down, drowning me in his frustration which came out of nowhere after I dropped a piece of my heart in his lap and then promptly snatched it back. I jumped the gun. I fucked up. I should have left things alone. I was confused. I don't know which end is up and I'm having trouble going on feeling.

Ben's words on our picnic in the snow struck me dumb and have haunted me since. A ring produced and held out in a shaky hand this time. Again, an offering of a life resumed after an interruption and here, here, just take a chance at a real life and it probably won't be so romantic and I wouldn't be blinded with huge sweeping gestures and maybe it'll be so normal it's sick but it will be stable and kind and wonderful and loving and all the things life is supposed to be when the embellishment is stripped away.

Real life. With a real man.

One who is willing to put his money where his mouth is after I failed to take him seriously the first time. One who's alive and not messed up. One who beat his demons and came out victorious. One who knows how to be strong and yet still be an equal. One who can atone for his mistakes and learn from them and grow from them. Now they're just beating me into the ground repeating his good qualities. Making sure I know.

I know.

Here's the tangent I know you want: Nine proposals spanning thirty-three years. Andrew was the first, when we were three. He wanted me to bring my apple and live with him in his tree house. He liked my frog barrettes. Cole was next, with two proposals over two years, I was too young the first time. Then someone else, I haven't talked about him at all. Jacob was next. Then came the disaster that was Christian, Ben and Joel looking to try and help end my misery with promises, nobly so.

And now Ben returns, this time with a ring to show he's not going to give up on me. That he's putting value into his words in a way I never required him to before now. He's offered me half of his heart to replace the one that I broke.

I took the ring and looked at it. It was a simple classic princess cut amethyst on an art-deco band. An antique ring, no less, which he knew I would love. I smiled. He said don't put it on, just to take it home and put it in a box and if I ever wanted to I could put it on and think about his offer.

It wasn't extended lightly. He isn't trying to rescue me. He...he's looking for the rest of his life, in me. I shook my head. It's not fair.

I can't do this.

He wouldn't take it back and so I put it on my chain to keep it safe for the trip home and he smiled tightly, his smile that he wears when he doesn't quite know what his next move is. Ben, aware of my entire history and trying to circumvent it via ignoring it instead of trying to fix everything. Pretending history doesn't exist and living in a moment in a way I've never seen anyone else pull off. Mindfulness. Intensity of a different sort.

I've never had this much trouble with a girl before.

I tried the ring on yesterday for the first time. It's beautiful. I can hear his quiet plea not to make him wait forever. I'm just not sure that his heart is big enough to hold both of us. He may say it is, but really, I'm getting really good at breaking hearts and I can't risk losing another.

Fairweather future.

    Ray: Maybe we should kiss goodbye

    Molly: Just a kiss?

    Ray: We'll leave it at that for this book. I'll reconsider the ending for the movie

    Molly: Here's my kiss. Now remember I'm ready to do anything or be anything you want or need

    Ray: I'll keep that in mind

    Molly: That's where you'll find me

    Ray: Too bad I have to wait a century to meet you

    Molly: Or to be me

    Ray: Yes that too. Actually Molly, there are a few other questions that have occurred to me. What were those limitations that you referred to? What did you say you were anxious about? What are you afraid of? Do you feel pain? What about babies and children? Molly?
Duncan said something interesting to me this morning. He told me No one ever falls out of love with you. I thought for a moment while I sipped on my orange juice and then I reminded him that Loch did and Duncan said No, he didn't. I mentioned another name and he again laughed and corrected me. I asked him about John while John sat across from me getting high off his espresso and Duncan just roared and said he wasn't going to say any more.

They're going to bury me in sweetness.

Except for Mark, who wouldn't cover up my lyrics today. He maintains they are his best lettering work ever and he said I was being rash, that if I still wanted it changed by July he would do it then. I pointed out it's a psychological burden (having gotten it the weekend before Jacob left us) and he laughed and said he told me that when I got it. I said he had a shitty way of doing business and he said it had nothing to do with business and everything to do with friendship.

Ah, okay. I get it now.

Seventy-eight. Stay in love forever.

Today will be quite busy. I've got John watching over me. I have more Christmas thank-you notes to write, and a tattoo to be covered among all the other things. Bright spots, I suppose. John is such a grump today too. He doesn't do mornings so well.

Yesterday was saved by the collar of her sweater. It began with the delivery of food and a fukubukuro (Andrew! rocks!) for the children and ended very late with a halting, painfully awkward quote thrown over a shoulder, a few lines from Baudelaire that warmed me to my toes, and a song played by Ben on a strange guitar, the culmination of an incredibly weird few weeks, distorted with an offer, made impossible with an expectation. One that remained unvoiced until yesterday.

Which I will explain tomorrow. Ha! Cliffhangers. Because I'm always the quintessential attention whore for you everyone.

I'm headed to see the lawyer now to look after Jacob's parents, assign guardianship in the event of my death (PJ with a landslide victory over even blood relatives. Which speaks volumes.) and to make sure Ben's ass is covered, living with me and my mental problems, so that he has rights as my tenant if someone misses the next collar that swings by, and I have a lunch date too, Lord knows John will be asleep somewhere by ten. What time is it now? Yes, 9:40, so that's about right.

    She says I'm the one she really wants
    But I'll never be the one that she needs.
    I'm not here to be a creep.
    I'm just feeling incomplete.
    Take me home.

No idea what I'm doing.

I'm just not having any luck with today, so my apologies as I remove three very truncated entries containing mostly song lyrics and a few four-letter words. Literally, there was nothing to read so I got rid of them.

It's been seventy-seven days since he left. I wake up crying every morning. This morning a kiss was stolen from me, I threw a cup of coffee at the wall in therapy and Butterfield ate the chocolate chip muffins I left out for Ben. I tried to talk about my future and got nowhere. I lost a button. I had to coerce the kids into wearing snowpants because it got very cold again and I listened to Nine Inch Nails a lot.

I cried a little more and the stereo was turned off on my behalf.

I helped clean up the coffee and put Sam Roberts on the stereo this afternoon instead. I tried to win back this day but it just isn't coming. Maybe tomorrow will be better.

Browns and blues.

Today brings a favorable shift in the winds, I believe.

He stayed in his new digs last night, which aren't so new considering he was spending every weekend here anyway. Only this time the door at the end of the hall stayed unlocked, and open. However we remained on two different floors at the opposite ends of the house from each other because there's nothing going on. Contrary to rumors, contrary to popular belief. Contrary to Rob's countdown to Smurfette giving up her blue. I never laughed so hard. Smurfette? Geez, you guys.

I will admit it's like sleeping on the floor of a cake shop when you're starving but you didn't hear that from me.

I'm human. Am I not human? Every now and then I feel human, so it's a start.

    It's all wonderful
    Living happily
    To lose it all
    Think you have everything

    Stop tell me where you going
    Maybe the one you love isn't there
    You're going under
    But you're over it all so you don't care about all that I had to see
    I'd watch you wait until you come around

I was sitting earlier at coffee, picking lint off the knees of my black tights. Black shoes spattered with slush from melting snow on the sidewalk and icy patches that left me clutching Ben's arm as we went into the coffee shop. Wearing the coat he likes me in. My robin's egg blue one that is his favorite color in the whole world. Not smurf-blue but yeah, I get it.

He took today off to move. Shh. He already moved. Yesterday. There's only some out of season stuff and big pieces of furniture left. Things he doesn't need for a while. Things he'll pick up on the weekend. His goalie gear takes up half the basement. And hockey mirrors life. Jacob was defense but he was also the enforcer, and Ben makes the saves.

Wow. That's a lightbulb moment if ever there was one.

When we picked up our coffees and sat down he whipped the kids' Scholastic catalog out of his pocket and asked which stuff Henry and Ruth would like best. I smiled and said anything would thrill them beyond belief, as usual. We made up a list to order. We do this every month.

Then he asked me what I would like best. Right here, right now.

I said,

This.

Farsighted.

I'm going to be the landlady.

Another afternoon spent arguing with Ben, as he tries to pass off keeping the pictures of me up in spite of his promises to remove them. Pictures of Jake, pictures of the kids. He's known for a very long time how I feel about having a lot of pictures on the web. I don't mind the occasional one, but a whole pageful? Forget it.

He did take it down and then he wrote me off. Again. I did the same.

We've discovered something very interesting. Mondays are rough. He goes back to work. We say goodbye after three close days together and even though he sometimes comes for dinner or the evening during the week, it's not the same. We get tense and stressed out about it, dreading the week ahead and we let our words degenerate into disrespect and ultimatums and finalities. Ben said if I couldn't trust him he'd just go back to his old girlfriend and live with her. At least she was sane and slightly more predictable. Oh and tall.

(Motherfucker.)

He's also been tremendously stressed about his living situation, finding it difficult to find a new apartment to rent. His lease is up at the end of January, it wasn't renewed, the building has been sold. He currently lives three blocks from me and the closest place he can find is a five-minute drive away, closer to twenty blocks and he wasn't keen on being that far.

So cue the fight of the day and we wash our hands of each other. He's getting too old for this, he'll just write me off before he'll back down or indulge in any kind of headgames.

Good. I love him and so I backpedaled all the way to the start.

I asked him to come and live here, with us. That we would draw up an agreement and have it approved by both lawyers and he could be my tenant and the rent that he pays would not only be cheap but it would become the house fund, so repairs or improvements would be paid for out of that and I'd reap some of the benefits of this huge house.

It's a perfect solution, since the guestroom has a bathroom across the hall, has it's own entrance, the side door, and I can close off that whole wing and lock the door at the end of the hall to secure the house. He'll have a key for the side door. He'll have everything he needs, though I seriously doubt I'll be locking the door. I've thought about that for a while now. It doesn't need to be locked anymore. Not with Ben. I do trust him, in spite of my words. I have for a long time now.

I get a live-in companion. He could have his meals with us or not. He can use the washer/dryer and just about anything else his heart desires and I don't have to sit for hours with the guys drawing up a schedule of who gets what night. It takes the pressure off.

It eliminates Monday fights.

It proves trust. In the event that something wonderful happens down the road we don't have to make any huge changes. It gives us both something we want-stability for Ben, and assurances of my faith in him, and companionship for me but a little privacy too, as his own space means he won't spend all his time waiting and watching.

It takes a tiny little bit of time away from the other guys. That's been a bone of contention. He wanted more time and we couldn't figure out how to pull it off and going back and forth is hard, especially in the winter. Especially when everyone is so tense.

He's at his apartment right now. Packing. He and PJ will be back later tonight with most of his things.

I'm really excited. And really tired. What a long day. If none of this makes any sense forgive me.