[Throwback Thursday — Originally published November, 2013]
I love you. I am so sorry I couldn’t be there for you and the children on Christmas. I am so sorry all of this happened. I hope you are OK. Not being able to talk to you since I’ve been here has heightened my anxiety and they’ve kept me in medical because of it. This is all a blur and I’m trying to pay attention to what is happening but I just don’t understand.
They say I stabbed a woman. They say her blood was on my pants and that they have even more evidence. They say I could get twenty years. They say I’m unremoreseful and evil. They keep saying things but they make no sense.
They’re moving me to a different block and are taking my belongings. Send money if you can, I have nothing.
I got some feedback on my recent post about Nate and I being in an open relationship. It seems many people still believe that women cannot engage in sex without ‘catching feelings’; there is no such thing as friends with benefits, or no strings attached. Men are sexual creatures and women are emotional creatures.
Here we go with me not being a woman again. Then again, I’ve recently come across a slew of other bloggers who have the same views about sex as I do, so maybe I am a woman and society’s views are just outdated?
I’ve been watching Orange is the New Black. I finally caved.
I’m not finding it as enjoyable as I was expecting after all the hoopla I’ve heard from other people, but it’s not bad.
Piper’s annoying, I’m in love with Nicky, blah blah blah.
But something about the show really bugs me. They make Larry seem like the bad guy for being affected by his fiance’s incarceration.
Let me just say this right now — being the loved one of someone in prison is often like being in prison yourself. And it’s perfectly fine to feel that way.
I’ll admit I’ve only watched most of the first season, so maybe they address this. Maybe it’s not as bad as I’m making it out to be. Maybe Piper is going to be the bitch for acting all woe-is-me on Larry’s ass. But maybe not, so I’m writing this anyway.
I think it’s time I talk about my best friend; my boyfriend; the father of my child; the man who would undoubtedly be my husband if it weren’t for the next sentence.
He’s in prison. He stabbed someone.
* * * * *
Nate and I met when we were fourteen at a mutual friend’s get-together the summer before 9th grade. It was 2002, I think in August or the beginning of September. I was wearing baggy pants and a super tight orange tank top. He was wearing a bowler hat.
He had a box of some sort of food but I forget what so I want to say Munchkins. He sat there quietly and ate them, all night. He and I never said a word to each other, but we noticed one another.
I hooked up with some other guy that night who turned out to be crazy.
Then I ran into Nate again, randomly, while walking through our local church’s parking lot. It was called the Tabernacle.
I don’t remember how it happened. I don’t remember how fast it happened. But I know soon after that we became inseparable and had our first kiss. I fell in love with him immediately.