Posts Tagged With: romance

Why I Don’t Love You

Why I Don’t Love You

Inspired by the CW show, Jane the Virgin, I don’t want to tell you all the reasons why I love you.  I want to tell you all the reasons why I don’t.

I don’t love you because you’re the sexiest man I’ve ever seen. The first time I laid my eyes on you I lost my breath and my heart nearly leapt from my chest. From your pictures I thought you were kind ’f nerdy, a bit on the skinny side, too pretty for my taste, and not my type at all. I used to think that lightning wasn’t real and that love at first sight was the figment of an overactive imagination.  But, baby, I’m still burning and finding it hard to breathe. I dream of you; you’re the star of my fantasies.

I don’t love you because you’re the smartest man I’ve ever met.  The things you say make me question some of my own core beliefs and push me to look outside my box.  I don’t always agree with the ‘way’ you see the world, but I find ‘how’ you see it absolutely inspiring and amazing.  I never thought I’d meet someone as thirsty for knowledge and nerdy as me. You push me to learn more, to try harder, to think stronger.  I love that you often beat me in the intellectual games we play, that you disagree with me at almost every musing, and you argue with me about even the basic of understanding and enlightenment.  While I hate to lose the game or the argument, I smile because it turns me on to know there’s depth behind those dark, sexy eyes.

I don’t love you because you’re the funniest man I’ve ever  heard.  All the jokes and videos you send me somehow arrive at the moment I need them most, usually when the world seems like it’s caving in on me and a laugh is the perfect thing I needed.  It never fails – NEVER.  You always seem to message me JUST when I’ve been thinking about you, like we’re tuned into the same frequency.  It could be days between correspondences, but you always show up on time.

I don’t love you because you’re the most romantic man I’ve ever encountered.  The songs you send me not only move my feet, they move my heart. I’ve found myself several times with tears streaming down my face because the words, the  music, the message in the songs you send are the words, music, and messages I’ve always dreamed of hearing. You may not write an epic fantasy, or a string of poetry, or a ballad to melt the heart, but you sure do know how to pick the songs like a true artist.

I don’t love you because you’re the bravest man I’ve ever known.  You’ve put your life on the line in the name of duty, without hesitation and without fear.  I feel safe in your arms, so safe I keep falling asleep.  For an insomniac, that’s the greatest medicine in the world.  My favorite moment with you was lying in your arms, listening to your heartbeat, feeling your chest rise and fall with each breath, and your fingers gently stroked my hair as we watched television together.  I fell asleep, so deeply, so comfortably, and so relaxed.  The harshness of the world I’ve experienced makes that moment pure heaven to me. It was never about sex with you; it was always just you.

I don’t love you because your voice is exotic.  It makes me smile when I hear the way you pronounce things, or the sound of your laughter when you find something extremely funny, or the way you sing, or the sarcasm that drips from your lips like honey.  I especially don’t love you for the command and control I’ve heard in a tone that dictates authority, control, and unquestioning confidence. For someone who is never satisfied with the unanswered questions of the universe, to hear that particular sound of assurance is like ethereal music to my ears. My body reacts to your voice like a chord strummed in perfect tune – the joining of two sound waves in sync. As a safety measure, I insist on maintaining control of every aspect of my life, it’s how I protect myself.  But when I’m with you I lose all control.  I fumble my words, all well-laid plans vanish, my thoughts get jumbled, my resolve becomes liquid, and I betray myself and all the plans I’ve made.  I no longer think of me, what I want, what I want to do, but become completely immersed in pleasing you, which in doing so, pleases me more than I ever dreamed.

I don’t love you for all those reasons listed above. I love you because I can’t imagine this world without you. Even if I can’t be with you, just knowing you exist, knowing you’re alive, knowing you’re happy is enough.  I feel honored to have met you and privileged to have loved you. I know I’ll never stop loving you because you’re a part of my soul.  I love you enough to let you go. Because of you, I now know amazing, passionate, and deep love really exists. I have enjoyed falling in love with you and discovering how beautiful it can be. I honestly didn’t think this kind of love existed, and accepted the imitations it’s offered me for so long.  In loving you, I realize the kind of love someone once offered me, before they were taken away, was more beautiful than I ever imagined. Thank you.  I never truly understood it before, but now I do.

I know what I want now, and I can’t and won’t accept anything less.  The kind of love I have for you – I deserve that kind of love for myself. I want it.  I want to be adored, admired, respected, wanted, desired, appreciated, and passionately loved. Part of me believes that’s impossible, a dream that’ll never happen, but before I met you – I thought you were an impossible dream too.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

Categories: Musing, T.L. Gray, Writing | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Hypnotic – Zella Day

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Yep, I’ve got another one… another great song has been added to my playlist.  I want to thank my very special friend who understands my passion for music, for stories, for a beat and a melody that moves my heart and touches my soul.  He’s got a very special gift for knowing what I’ll respond to, and I appreciate that more than he’ll ever know.

Switching tempos… it’s time to get down to the marrow of this particular song – Hypnotic by Zella Day.  I’ve been listening to it now for a couple of weeks, along with the rest of her album “Kicker”.  I’m a fan – for life.  I just love her style and can really feel a connection to a lot of her stuff.  Her music speaks more to that sexy, sensual, sultry part of me.  It’s taken me a long time to get in touch with that particular part of myself, and so I really appreciate how her music appeals and inspires me.

While this song makes me move (I mean, I literally can’t sit still, my hips automatically start swaying, my shoulders start moving, even my fingertips want to get into the dance.), it also speaks to something deeper, something bigger, something more than just the erotic sensationalism.

Have you ever met someone that by all practical common sense, you know-that you know-that you know is someone that will be difficult to mesh with because you’re so different, yet when you’re with them – NONE of that other stuff, none of those differences, none of those fears, doubts, or compromises mean anything?  Hell, I can’t even think straight when I’m around him. I literally get dizzy, stumble over my words, forget all my ideas and plans, and just BE in the moment.  Man… it’s terrible and great at the same time. That feeling of connection, that bigger-than-you-can-comprehend, magnetic euphoria makes everything seem so right, so perfect, so … hell, I can’t even find the word.  It’s just something hypnotic.

This one feeling (it could be like a million feelings all compounded into one) has stripped away so many of my core beliefs,  ideals, morals, and practical sense, and I’d do just about anything to feel it again.  It pulls me out of the person I think I am, that mask I represent most of the time, and transforms me into someone else, strips me naked and bare for just a little while.  Just like the song says, “I don’t want to come back down, I don’t want to touch the ground. Pacific Ocean dug so deep, hypnotic taking over me.”

Does any of that other shallow stuff really matter? Isn’t the things we find in the deepest part of us, the hidden parts, the parts so cavernous that no light can touch, and the pressure is so hard it crushes us, the parts that reveal who we really are? I’ve walked away from a lot of potential relationships for very many shallow reasons.  Perhaps I’m just trying to protect myself because I’m afraid of what waits beneath the surface, in a place where my feet can’t touch the ground, where I can’t see clearly, where I find certain attributes I don’t particularly like,  and I move on.  Am I looking for Mr. Perfect?  I know perfect doesn’t exist. Yet, I’ve experienced something with one of these opposites that I can’t shake.  In the deepest part of my heart I WANT to always do what is right, what is just, what is fair, what is wise, and what is noble. I think I have one of the biggest hearts in the world. I have all these intentions.  I have sacrificed so many times in my life to walk a certain path.  I used to have solid, defined opinions about what I’d do, what I wouldn’t do, what I thought I needed, what I thought I didn’t need.  Yet, I forget all those things… every fucking single one of them… with a single hypnotic glance. I’m entranced.

Thank you, Zella Day, for your lovely song… and thank you readers for riding this wave with me.  Now, sit back (well, get ready to move) and enjoy the latest addiction to my music collection.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

“Hypnotic”
(Ahh ahh)

I wanna be on the front line
Knotted up suit ties
Talkin’ like a headstrong mama
Gotta picture in your wallet
Makin’ me a habit
Wearin’ your vintage t-shirt
Tie ribbons on ya top hat
Tellin’ me I’m all that
Just like the girls from ya home town
Sweet blooded and I’m stranded
See if I can stand it
Drinkin’ in the shallow water

Magnetic everything about you
You really got me now

You do it to me so well
Hypnotic takin’ over me
Make me feel like someone else
You got me talkin’ in my sleep
I don’t wanna come back down
I don’t wanna touch the ground
Pacific ocean dug so deep
Hypnotic takin’ over me

(Ahh ahh)

White threads on my laces
Stuck on the hinges
Swingin’ the door to the to the back yard
Got splinters walkin’ tight ropes
Spun like a bandage
Touch on the outer surface
Bright eyes of the solstice
Wherever your mind is headed for a freight train city
Locked up till your moon lit
Brushin’ my hair back
Feelin’ ya lips on my cold neck

Magnetic everything about you
You really got me now

You do it to me so well
Hypnotic takin’ over me
Make me feel like someone else
You got me talkin’ in my sleep
I don’t wanna come back down
I don’t wanna touch the ground
Pacific ocean dug so deep
Hypnotic takin’ over me

(Ahh)

Hypnotic takin’ over me

You do it to me so well
Hypnotic takin’ over me
Make me feel like someone else
You got me talkin’ in my sleep
I don’t wanna come back down
I don’t wanna touch the ground
Pacific ocean dug so deep
Hypnotic takin’ over me

(Ahh)

Hypnotic takin’ over me

(Ahh)

Hypnotic takin’ over me

(Ahh ahh)

Categories: Musing, Play List, Song List, T.L. Gray, Writing | Tags: , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Run, TL, Run

Run

I have Drapetomania.  Sometimes I want to run and hide away from the world.  Not because I can’t face a problem or am trying to avoid responsibility.  If there’s anything I’m good at its facing problems head on and carrying responsibility.  Those two traits have weighed me down most my life.  No, I want to run and hide when I’m scared, hurt, or lonely.  I’m not afraid for my safety, at least not when it comes to the physical, but I’m sometimes afraid my heart can’t take any more abuse, my spirit can’t handle any more  pressure,  or my mind can’t deal with any more torment.  I sometimes run to save myself.

I’ve been running my whole life.  I’ve watched people I’ve loved very much walk right out of my life.  Well, that’s not true.  I left them.  When they’ve hurt me, I’d leave.  But it doesn’t mean I wanted to go.  It was my way of protecting myself.  It’s my reaction of self-preservation.  I used to not be able to recognize it until very much after the fact, and by then it was too late.  But these past few years I’ve started to notice the triggers, see the signs, and understand why I feel that way. Knowing the why still doesn’t always stop me from running, but it sometimes helps me find my way back.  It’s not just a simple choice I can make.  It isn’t a recent development.  It’s very deep seeded PTSD from childhood trauma.  It’s like an addict fighting an addiction.  They know what they need to do, but the only promises you can make is to take it one day at a time.

I don’t do any kind of drugs and I rarely drink.  I don’t have any addictions that control me, and my mind is often very clear and introspective.  By all logical common sense, I should be able to keep my feet firmly planted and not run, but I still find myself sometimes running really, really fast away from the people I love most – because my mind fears them and the pain they can cause.

This running reaction has destroyed just about every relationship I’ve ever had.  The only ones that have endured are my children, and it’s because they refuse to let me go.  I think that’s the key.  I have a few friends, very good friends, that I’ve tried to push away so many times, but they refuse to let me go.  They don’t put up with any bullshit from me, and tell it to me straight, but they’re the ones who showed me the truth about myself… but they had to show me while holding me down and not letting me go.  (I’m not talking about physically holding me down, but emotionally not giving up on me.)

The thing that hurt me most when I left my husband of 20 years was that he never tried to stop me from leaving – not in any way whatsoever.  It doesn’t mean I was going to stay, but it does mean I wasn’t deemed worthy enough in his estimation to try and stop me from leaving.

I remember watching my father abuse my mother, me, and my brothers, and would just wish and pray he would leave, but he never did.  Not only that, he threatened anyone who tried to leave, which only made me want to go even more.  I eventually did leave, but the whole time I stayed it wasn’t because I was afraid to leave, I was afraid of leaving my family unprotected.  So, I stayed and endured the abuse until they were old enough to protect themselves.  I then ran and never looked back.  What hurt more than anything, my sacrifice to stay was for nothing.  My mother and my brothers never loved me enough to try and protect me.  They let me run, and some even became the abusers and manipulators I tried to protect them from becoming. I have no relationship with them as adults.  Every time I try to get close to them, they’d hurt me by stealing from me, lying to me, using me, trying to manipulate me, – so I’d run.

I don’t run because I don’t care, but because I care too much. Every time I’ve ever ran, it’s ripped my heart to shreds.  It hurts so much it takes my breath away.  I still can’t sometimes breathe.  Someday, I’m going to love someone and that love is going to scare me, and I’m going to turn and try to run away… but they’re going to love me enough to grab my hand, wrap their arms around me, and refuse to let me go… and they’re going to have to do it often.

I’m not afraid to run.  I’m only afraid no one will ever stop me.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

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Stay a Little Longer

*Flash Fiction/Short Story by T.L. Gray

Stay a Little Longer

~

The second hand on the clock ticks, ticks, ticks away.

Father Time, make it stop. Keep me in this moment. Hold me in this place and time the way his arms hold me now.  How long?

Sensations prickle all over as he runs his thumb lightly over my shoulders and down my back. A steady heartbeat sings to me as my head rests on his chest.  He’s so swarm, so hard, so safe, so beautiful.  The scent of him makes me dizzy. My whole body worships him, aches for him, even now as our legs lay tangled. How long?

I’m home in his arms.  Please stop, clock.  Please let me stay a little longer.

Where do I end and he begin?  The most delicate flower, so intricate, so complex, doesn’t compare to his beauty.  His eyes, more dazzling than the darkest rose.  His scent, more intoxicating than the honeysuckle.  His beautiful skin, more exotic than any lily. The power he wields over me, more potent than the poppy. How long?

I lay bare before him, more than skin, more than flesh, all of me open and exposed, every deep and secret part of me, my soul, my heart.  How long?

I’m lost in his arms.  Please stop, clock.  Please let me stay a little longer.

When we come together we become one. We burn hot.  When we turn away, magnetic polarity ensues and an invisible force comes between us, pushing us apart – life, yesterday, tomorrow.  The world dims. I become numb, a pile of cold ashes.  How long?

The second hand on the clock ticks, ticks, ticks away.

~

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

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One Last Night

One Last Night

*A Flash Fiction Piece*

Gray clouds billow above the white foamy surf as fog rolls like a trampling stampede upon the surface of the cerulean sea.  The crash of waves upon the rocks reminds me of my lovers tryst; the sea spray our wild release. I stand at the widow, staring out at the cold, magical, monochromatic morning, my chest heavy with sorrow, but no regret.

The view before me blurs amid the hot, silver tears as they fill my eyes.  I flush as each warm memory fills my mind’s eye.  I wrap my arms tight around me and let the images take me back, take me into our one last night.

~

Dark eyes stared into my soul, undressing me, exposing the deepest part of me, stealing my breath.

Strong, gentle fingers slowly traced the side of my face, moving slowly down my neck, and onto my shoulders, shakily leaving a trail of prickling anticipation and sweet adoration.

I shivered.

He smiled.

I let go.

Two hearts beat in unison as our bodies converged into one, staring into each other’s eyes, feeling the love, forgetting the world outside.  Nothing else existed.  Nothing else mattered.  Giving. Receiving. Loving. Worshipping. Sharing. No words. No promises. No lies.

My eyes grew heavy as my head rested on his chest, listening to his strong heartbeat, feeling the comforting warmth of his arms wrapped around me, his fingers gently caressing me.  A perfect moment.

I didn’t look back as he left. I couldn’t.

~

I now stand empty, cold, and alone.  I can still hear his gentle breathing and feel the lingering sting of his touch, but only as ghosts and silhouettes.  I walk toward those cold, crashing waves, letting go of my will, my fight, my resolve, shedding my earthly shell and the last tendrils of my humanity. I disappear into the abyss.

Death holds his bony fingers out toward me and asks, “Was it worth it, your one last night?”

I take his hand, look up at him, and smile, “What night?”

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I Want Butterflies

I Want Butterflies

For those who read my blog on a daily basis, I haven’t NOT been writing, I just haven’t posted some of the latest articles live because they’ve been really deep and really personal, and I’m just not ready to share those  particular stories in a public forum.  All my posts are always deep and personal, but those are just a little bit more than I’d like the world to see – for now.  As you all know, I’m very open with my thoughts – but even I had a hard time with writing those.  I still write them, I write almost every day, because it’s cathartic for me.

Today’s post won’t be much different, but I think it’ll be okay to share this one, at least I hope it will be.  I only have a small idea of what’s going to pour out – because I just let it flow when my fingers touch the keys.

As my close friends know, I’ve been trying to re-enter the dating realm.  Back in April of this year was the first time I dabbled with online dating sites.  I had a wild mix of experiences with it, but I can say I have met some really nice men, one in particular that I believe will be a life-long friend.  Some of the men… well, let’s just say, “God have mercy on them, for they know not what they do – and they’re too damned dumb to ever figure it out.”

Saying that… brings me to my post this morning.  I felt a deep cut from a few remarks I received last night from someone I deeply love and highly regard.  When I first heard their words, I simply brushed them away, but throughout the night they kept haunting me, I kept hearing them over and over.  They didn’t say anything really bad in and of themselves individually, but collectively I didn’t like the picture they made or the picture of how I’m perceived.  It actually hurts quite a lot that someone I care about so deeply thinks of me the way they do. It hurts to disappoint someone or realize they think so little of you.

I say all the time that our biggest deceiver is often ourselves.  I don’t exclude myself in that quote.  Honestly, I’m the main culprit.  I KNOW I deceive myself.  I try really hard to examine my thoughts, my motives, my actions, my words – seeking the truth – because I know that only in truth  – real changes and healing can occur.  NOTHING can come from remaining in deception.  So, I question myself this morning – am I really the way I was described last night?  I hope not.

How was I perceived?  Judgmental, a snob, and with my heads in the clouds believing in fairy tales.  Are they wrong?  I think so, but then maybe I’ve deceived myself.  I don’t know, but I do know something is wrong, something’s off… I just don’t know what it is or how to change it.  I’ve been on several dates the last few weeks and honestly, I feel nothing.  Don’t get me wrong, most of them have been nice guys, just not the right guys for me.  When I sit across from them, I often see a lifestyle that has no room for me – or that I would have to change in order to fit.  I’m never going to change for anyone, ever again.  I sacrificed me to be what someone else wanted the last time, and lost me in the process.  It took me  a very long time to find me – and I won’t lose me again.

I want butterflies. I want lightning.  I know it exists, I’ve felt twice before.  I want to wake up in the morning and be excited about a ‘good morning’ text.  I want to smile through the day from receiving random messages, knowing I brushed across his thoughts.  I want to get nervous so bad before a date I can’t eat and I’ve tried on 20 outfits to go back and settle for the first one I pulled out.  I want to talk for hours about nothing and everything.  I want to have a hard time keeping my hands to myself.  I want to steal kisses, hold hands, make love, cook together, chase waterfalls, encourage one another, push each other to eat healthier and stay fit, to share my stories, to listen to them talk about their dreams.  I want to fall asleep in a set of strong arms.

I don’t want money, jewelry, houses, success, cars, expensive things or anything at all.  All the things I want and desire are intangible, beautiful moments.  I don’t want to have sex, I want to make love.  Maybe my friend is right, maybe it’s all just a fairy tale.  Maybe I’ve lied to myself so much that I’ve convinced myself I deserve it.  When I love someone, I love them completely… faults and all.  I see them, I see their scars, I see the impurities, but I love them  – all of them.  I just want that for me.  I’ve got my own scars. I’ve got my own impurities, weaknesses, and faults.  Can no one ever love me as I am?  Will I never be good enough?

I have many offers, sometimes it’s ridiculous at how many, from men to be a sexual partner.  Many are beautiful, sexy men that I’m sure have left a long string of broken hearts in their wake.  I’m not for want, if I was a casual kind of girl, for companionship.  Literally, I receive an offer every day.  But I’m a stupid girl that wants something real.  I’m disheartened at how many people out there would rather have a meaningless hookup than love.  So when I look into the eyes sitting across from me and I see they want to play a game, but haven’t bothered to take the time to even see me, I smile until the dance is over and then go home.  Does it make me cruel and cold that I want butterflies?  Does it make me a snob when I walk away because they’re looking for something I’m not?  Does it make me judgmental when I see someone sitting across from me who’s physique and habits sound warning bells inside my mind that their lifestyle would be detrimental to the life goals of health, fitness, and adventure I’ve set for myself?

Perhaps I do think too highly of myself, and my foolishness will keep me alone.  I don’t know.  I just know that I feel broken, almost dead inside.  I hold tightly to hope – hope that I’ll find my butterflies, hope that someday someone will think I’m worth fighting for, that I’m worth loving.  Maybe someday I’ll meet someone who also believes in fairy tales and I’ll be awakened from my cursed sleep with true love’s kiss. Just maybe. Or else I’ll just die and wither in my glass coffin.

Till Next Time,

Fairy Tale Princess

Categories: Blog Post, Inspirational, Musing, Romantic, Writing | Tags: , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Good Morning, World – 04/27/2014

Good Morning, World - 04/27/2014

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Why So Cynical?

Image 

I don’t know if my cynical radar is amplified, but it seems lately it’s picking up a particular signal and I don’t like what it’s playing.  I don’t want to think it’s the people around me, that I’d choose to surround myself with such an attitude, but it seems to be like an infection spreading over the universe.  What disease or situation am I talking about?  Cynicism, especially when it comes to love and romance.

According to Webster – a cynic is:

  1. 1.   A person who believes that only selfishness motivates human actions and who disbelieves in or minimizes selfless acts or disinterested points of view.
  2. 2.   One of a sect of Greek philosophers, 4th century BCE, and who advocated the doctrines that virtue is the only good, that the essence of virtue is self-control, and that surrender to any external influence is beneath human dignity.
  3. 3.   A person who shows or expresses a bitterly or sneeringly cynical attitude.

Where are the romantics? Surely they don’t just live in novels, because that would truly prove a depressing world in which to live. So, I ask myself WHY?  Why are people so bitter and cynical?  What’s happened to create this atmosphere and social paradigm shift? 

My only guess would be pain, heart-break and disappointment.  But, that is something we all have experienced in one form or the other, or if we haven’t yet, we will.  It’s like a human right-of-passage.  Pain cannot be avoided.  But, allowing that pain to replace hope, romance, or a positive outlook on relationships shouldn’t be accepted. 

I know too many people who are romantic at heart, but refuse to allow even a modicum of romance in their lives.  They’d rather be alone, than risk being hurt or rejected.  They’d rather protect themselves with an armored coat of cynicism than get lost in the idea of romance.

I’ve been hurt.  I’ve been let down.  I’ve been rejected.  I’ve been unloved.  I’ve been disappointed.  I’ve been used.  I’ve been abused.  But, where is MY romance, adoration and the opportunity to be cherished? When do I get a chance to be the girl deemed worthy enough to put it all on the line and risk everything, to give everything, or to trust enough to place the most precious of hopes, dreams and aspirations into her hands?  I seem to always find the damaged men who have given up on love and romance because they have failed in a previous relationship.  You know what?  It failed in my previous relationships too, but I refuse to give up.  Instead, I hope even harder. 

Someone I once loved used to tell me, “I tried that romance stuff before… the poetry, the flowers, all that junk, and all it ever got me was looking like a fool, because the first jerk that came around and treated them like dirt walked away with them.”  Perhaps he was right, because he never used any of that romance stuff on me, in fact, he withheld all romantic and intimate feelings and acts, and I stuck with him for twenty years.  If anyone should be a cynic, it should be me.

I have a friend who says he’s no good when it comes to romance, and believes he will mess up any relationship he has that involves it, and thus has decided to abort all romance from his life.  He hides that part of himself from the friend whom he claims to love and honor most.  He has convinced himself the friendship is better without it; safer, truer, though it was initially built partly by romance.  Perhaps that’s true on his part, but doesn’t he think his friend would want all of him, including the romantic side?  If he keeps that part of himself isolated, he’s cheating them.  He gets all of them, or they are forced to deny a part of who they are and only give half of themselves, and they only receive half of each other. Two halves, in this case, don’t make a whole. His cynicism of romance and the rejection of it is damaging to the relationship. 

The act of NO romance will eventually kill a relationship just as much, if not more, than previous failed romantic endeavors.  I hope cynicism doesn’t destroy this relationship and the cynic is able to keep his friend, even if it’s just as a friend.  Unrequited love hurts more than lost love. With lost love, at least the love was there at one time before it became lost.

I have another friend that doesn’t even try to have a relationship at all, who cuts themselves off from even being in any position to accidentally stumble into a romantic relationship of any kind.  Yet, sometimes I can see a small glimmer in her heart that tells me the harder she pushes the possibility away, the taller and thicker she builds her walls, the stronger I know she really wants it, but too afraid to open herself to it.  She’s convinced herself she doesn’t need love and romance at all.  We all need love, that’s how we were designed… to love and be loved in return.

I hope I can inspire her to heal her cynicism, though I feel I’m a terrible example.  She’s watched me go through my pain, my adventures, my new meetings, new experiences and new hopes, saw my tears, felt my heart-break and listened to my disappointments when I failed, yet again.  She is there with me as I fight through these fears and even with a freshly-wounded heart, watches me as I open it yet again knowing full well it could get crushed, abused or used.  I could very much fail again and fear the solidification of her cynicism. 

I believe with all my soul that as long as I keep my heart open to romance, no matter how much abuse it receives, someday… someday it will receive the love, desire and romance it deserves… that I deserve.  The only thing I know is … if I close my heart and allow this disease of cynicism to consume me… I will never receive it.  The love I have for myself continues to heal me, sustain me, and give me the strength to get up and try again.  I may get my heart broken over and over, but I also… just maybe… maybe find love.  

I choose to remain optimistic.  I wish I could inspire my friends to do the same because I truly want them all to be happy and deliriously in love.  Maybe they are perfectly happy in their cynicism and it’s my romantic notions that don’t understand. If that’s the case, and it could very well be, then I don’t want to understand and become cynical too; I am meant to be romantic.  I could love and accept them as a cynic, and hope they can love and accept me as a crazy romantic in return.  I’m not saying they’re wrong in their methods, I’m just saying their methods are not right for me.  My methods may be the wrong kind, especially in light of my constant failure, but I can’t give up.  I hope they still love me after they read this blog post… they are cynics, after all. 

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

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Starting a New Chapter

New Chapter

Every writer understands the thrill of starting a new chapter, especially in a novel that’s been a huge labor of love, a struggle, something that’s required a lot of inflection, research, and pain. With the start of a new section, it’s like there’s been this small reprieve.  You’ve got the sense of completing some task, obstacle, quest, event or emotional scene, and now it’s time to move on to the next part of the saga, able to put that part behind you.  What we don’t often realize in our jubilation – starting a new chapter isn’t the same as writing a whole new book; it’s an extension of the same story.  There are still threads to be tied, characters that need to be developed and plots that need to unfold.  No matter how much we’d like to jump out of the same story and start over fresh, we have to see it to the end – just like our own lives.

I’d love to be able to jump out of my story and start a whole new one; reinvent myself and plop right into a new adventure, but I can’t.  My story has its own history, its own plot line and its own character development. The only difference, I’m not the author; I’m one of the characters.  I don’t have the power to change my story, rewrite my earlier chapters, scrap the whole manuscript and start over from scratch.  Part of me doubts I even have the power to finish the story as I’d like, because I have no control over the plot or the actions of the other characters.  The only thing I truly have any control over is how my character responds to the things around her.

Just so you know – I’m pretty damned angry at the author for writing this particular tragedy.  Why couldn’t I have been in a comedy or a fluffy romance?  No, I have to be in an epic thriller; a dark fantasy; a nightmare.  All I have to say is there better be an awesome ending.  Come on, one character can only take so much tragedy in their life.  There has to be balance.  I’m not even sure if I’m the hero or villain.  I think most of us are the heroes in our own stories, but my character isn’t feeling very heroic lately.  Where’s my great love story, when do I get to save the day instead of always being in need of rescue?  When do I reach the climax and get to start seeing everything come together and find my happily-ever-after?  Will my story end up with a tragic ending?  What will I have learned at the end of my journey?  Will anyone shed a tear for me when my story is finally over?  Or will my story be one of those that have the reader scratching their heads and saying, “What a waste!”

I don’t want that kind of ending, and I surely don’t want to be in a tragedy any longer, or to save the day; I just simply want to smile.  I want to love and be loved in return.  I want to have a purpose and give purpose to someone else’s life.  I want to be someone’s bright spot.  So, this morning, I’m pleading with the Author of my particular story, as they go to write this new chapter – please show a little mercy and change my story to a happy adventure. Tone down the drama, create a wonderful, beautiful setting, and plot a miracle or two.  Oh, and if I might just make a tiny suggestion – Henry Cavill would make a wonderful leading man.  But, if his story and mine can’t mesh, at least send someone that will flame an unquenchable fire, be someone I can look up to, who inspires me, pushes and makes me a better person just being in my life.  But they’ve got to want, love and desire me.  I refuse to settle or accept someone who won’t fully love me back with their whole heart, being and passion. I deserve to be someone’s leading lady – not only their best friend, side kick or confidant.  I deserve the knight in shining armor who will go through hell, move heaven and earth, and fight the largest dragon with ME, even though I can save myself.  I don’t need rescued. I just need someone willing to fight beside me so I don’t have to fight alone.

What does your story say about you?  What kind of novel is your life?  How would you like your story to change?  Think on these things.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

http://www.tlgray.blogspot.com

http://www.authortlgray.wordpress.com

Categories: Blog Post, Inspirational, Musing, Spiritual, Writing | Tags: , , , , , | Leave a comment

Romance – Wherefore Art Thou?

Romance

 

I’m not a big reader of romance.  I’d like to say it’s because I find the genre lacking in any real substance or literary acclaim, but that wouldn’t be the truth.  I know several romance writers who are wonderfully talented and their skills are quite evident in all their work.  So, I have to ask myself why I have such an aversion for the genre.  I believe the answer is a sad, but simple one – because I don’t know romance personally.

Being 42-years old, it’s hard to believe that a woman, a beautiful woman at that, has never really experienced romance.  Unfortunately, it’s true.  The part to this tale that’s even sadder is that I believe I’m a very romantic person.  So, for those shaking their heads in disbelief let me try to explain.

Through life circumstances in my youth, I didn’t get to really enjoy a dating period. This is often where most people experience their first samples of romance.  I wasn’t ignorant of it and saw it all around me; I just didn’t get to participate. At twenty-four I met my best friend who soon became my husband and father to our children.  He was a good man, one I will always love and respect, but he wasn’t a romantic and we didn’t have what would be considered a romantic marriage.  Even before we were married he told me, “I did all that romantic stuff like buy flowers, write poems, and be silly before with other women, but it didn’t work.  So, why bother with it?”  Over the twenty years we were married he never bothered.  He tried on occasion, but it fell flat and felt awkward because it was a forced effort, not a desired one. He told me on several occasions, “It’s better to be best friends than be romantic. Romance fades, but friends last forever.”  He wasn’t the first to say that to me, nor was he the last. I seemed to be cursed with finding myself always in the proverbial ‘friend zone’. Many of current friends are men who will only ever see me as a good friend, yet fall romantically in love with other women.  I often wonder what those other women have that I don’t.

It is said that a writer’s best work happens when they draw from experience and from elements they intimately know. I can’t write romance.  I tried last year during the NaNoWriMo.  I actually finished the 65,000 word novel, but it’s severely lacking, because I couldn’t simply write a decent kissing scene (kissing is something else I’ve little experience).  I’ve since tried my hand at erotica, and I have to say I’ve written a few good pieces, but even in that there’s a small disconnect.  I would never pursue or write it professionally.

Whether you like Fifty Shades of Grey or hated it, there was something in it that my soul cried out for and was desperately thirsty to drink, and it had nothing to do with BDSM or sex at all.  As I read it, the editor within me wanted to get out my red pen, but the woman in me cried inside the whole time.  Christian and Anastasia had me at their first email exchange.  There’s a lot the story lacks, but there’s an underlying current that resonates with women… women like me.  We want – no, we need to feel wanted, loved and desired. Respect is wonderful.  Trust is a must.  We are more than just wives, mothers and partners.  We are women, sexual beings, intelligent, loving and nurturing.

I can understand how and why the romance genre is as large as it is, even if I still don’t connect with the stories myself.  I have to believe that one day I’ll meet someone who still believes in romance and will share their romantic feelings with and for ME.  I’m foolish enough to believe I deserve to be the girl of their affections.   Someday.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

Categories: Inspirational, Musing, Writing | Tags: , , , | Leave a comment

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