Dancing in the Grey – Life with my Asperger’s
© Rory Matier 2015
Please Note this book was written in 2015.
The views within these chapters are mine and may not necessarily resonate with others on the spectrum – however bear in mind the quote by Dr. Stephen Shore .. “If you’ve met one person with autism, you’ve met one person with autism.”
Chapter 12 – Ep 19
My Cup Spilleth Over
Humperdinck, Sinatra, Four Aces, Nat King Cole amongst others have all sung, “Love is a many splendored thing’ and this is true. The essence of falling in love, the courtship, and the loving emotions can turn your whole life around. They can make you sick to the stomach, or have you dancing on the rooftops with joy.
One always thinks when they are young, that their first ever love will be there for the rest of their time, and that they will grow old together, they will make a family and stand by and support each other throughout their lives. Sadly however, whilst the lucky few share this ideology – life is fast paced, and times change, and what we think when we are young, is completely different to how we may view life when we have become older and more ‘aware’.
I used to believe in love at first sight, as a child that is and l would watch the movies and think, that is how it is in real life then, you see someone and you fall in love, perhaps that is how it happened with my parents. As l got older the realisation soon dawned on me, that love at first sight is/was not unheard of, but the reality was more than likely you were attracted at first sight, and maybe a relationship of love would follow … maybe.
I believe in romance and love, unlike some, l was considered a romantic at one point, some of the poetry l have written since then supports that theory, that you would meet someone, fall head over heels, knock me sideward’s and love me for who l was/am, accepting my faults, quirks and eccentricities and not judge me in a split second but come to understand my personality, not ask me to compromise my beliefs, but would just accept me as l would her, but sadly life is not always like that.
What Women Wanted
My Father might have classed himself as a romantic man when younger, my Mother who seems to possess the natural graces of romanticism in everything that she does would disagree with that notion, by saying that her ex husband was a hard brutal man whose concept of romance was a meal out then sex. I can not comment specifically on my parent’s courtship days, for my Father chooses selectively to remember what he wants and my Mother cares not to walk down the path of yesterday. Both are embittered towards each other these days emotionally and … neither of them hide it well.
There is however no doubt in my mind, that despite what both parents wish to recall, that traces of romance which led to them falling in love were at least present early on in their relationship, even if they were not present in later years. My Mother l know loved that man very much, although she chooses not to recall the time she said she worshipped the ground he trod. But this as a statement came from many yesterdays ago and is not remotely present today, and in fact if anything is more of an urban myth.
But as l trawl through my archived memory banks on my parents’ marriage and of course relationship as their son, l do recall some instances of ‘romance’ during my home life, not many admittedly, but samples perhaps of a man trying to ‘woo his lady’ just not always succeeding. This perhaps is quite simply because he was indeed clueless.
My Mother is a lovely Neurotypical woman, and not surprisingly is happier these last twenty years or so since her divorce from my Father and chooses to not think back to the days when she was far from that emotion, the days of troubles and arguments, of uneasiness and unknowing, and trying to make the family work for a man who quite literally did not know what he wanted from life. He wanted the perfect family l believe but did not seem to understand that in order to achieve that success he would have to work at it – so easy for me to make this comment, for l too walked into the same trap that he did with my own marriage – but l do believe that with my failed relationships l have learned. He sought perfection but did not honour his own commitments to that concept. My Mother would say back then and even today that he was an exceedingly hard man to love and live with. Yes l would also agree those remarks, he was hard to live with and very hard to love, l love him now, but am almost indifferent to him on that level. He was never content with what he had and always wanted more, the grass appeared to be greener in the next pasture in his eyes.
By the time my Mother had hit thirty, she had had many miscarriages, and if nature had followed its original course then l would have been one of seven children, sixth in the line with my Sister to bring up the rear and being the last, the first five being brothers. The physical strains alone on my Mother would have been enough for most women, however in addition to these; she then had to suffer constant career upheavals which involved globetrotting around the world. Her husband showed very little empathy towards her during these troubled times; he was an aggressive man and at times would go into bouts of extreme explosive anger, combine this with an odd behavioral pattern and an even quirkier personality and you can imagine the strain, yet still for many years she said she loved him.
When she was a young Mother, l remember she always suffered from ailments, mostly stress and l do recall when we lived in both Malaysia and Australia she was on the valium prescription by the doctors, these days it is better known as diazepam which may not have helped her at all during these emotionally hard and draining times. My Father’s actions and response during these years was usually anger, again no empathy – but also l wonder how many side effects she was suffering through the use of this drug, back in the late sixties and early seventies the doses were much heavier, did the over dosage’s assist in aggravating certain emotions further? We will never know the answers to these questions.
It was not hard to upset my Father, for he could so easily become angered by such little things back then. If his cricket or football or ‘quiet times’ were disturbed or thought to be meddled with he would explode and criticize and change into a hostile entity. For to have the perfect family comes at an unattainable cost – no noise, no arguments, no disturbance, no illnesses, no complaints, no faults, no hiccups for everything must be ‘just right’ and a stressed wife who is in the eyes of the receiver a nagger who does not simply love and adore and cherish every moment with her ‘perfect’ partner is not ‘right’. But as they say, what goes on behind closed doors …
My Father was a Metropolitan Police Officer based in London when younger and he met my Mother in Hackney when she was in the Salvation Army [a Sally girl as they were called], from then once married he joined the R.A.F and then the R.A.A.F, the military styled life was very much a discipline my Father could have continued to follow l believe, it comprised of perfections and if there was an error or a flaw this could be remedied with action, not like some other pursuits such as marriage, although he did attempt to resolve issues with the black and white logic from that institution. However that life style was not for my Mother, as indeed it is not for all women. He was an officer with the Military Police [Provost] and with this role it would have come with a host of responsibilities and accountabilities, it came with control and power, but it also came with transfers and stationing all around the world but Malaysia and Australia in particular.
He adored the life as l have said and was able to cope with its infrastructure with high suitability, the failing of course was that despite wanting marriage and career at times both do not walk hand in hand, there can be balance if both parties are willing to compromise, but when only one is, this leads to problems. Furthermore, he was married to a woman who wanted to be loved but more importantly wanted a life of normalcy – and in the military, that simply is not possible – your decisions are never truly your own, a higher authority commands. For him he was never truly at home even when he was, for his mind was always still at work.
After the military he continued the ‘security’ aspect of his career path and this too brought further strains from an already disgruntled woman – there would have been no easy answers for him, l can acknowledge this, life with Aspergers is not always easy, but life unknowing of the disorder is simply chaotic!
I should imagine that my Mother was so very innocent to this man when she first met him, was seduced by his charm, his courting prowess, not to mention his dreams, aspirations and hopes and could not help but fall, for he would have pursued her with great fervor, like a hound after a fox scent, he would not have given up, because he wanted what he saw, she had to be his prize – the chase was all important, a challenge, of mostly logic.
She would have succumbed to his ways. She was a Sally girl, from a relatively poor background and perhaps it would not have taken too much to sweep her off her feet. The man she first met and fell in love with would not be the same man within a few years, and by the end of their marriage she had simply stopped believing in romance and love of any nature and had become so brutally cynical, from my cup spilleth over to basically what amounted to a slicing of the heavens.
Some of the readership may be familiar with a story line such as this, l know to a certain degree that l was similar to my Father in the days long gone …
These days my Father lives alone, a relationship with a woman he says he loved very deeply ended some years ago, when he talks of her he still does so very deeply indeed, he once told me that he loved her more than he loved my Mother, at the time l was quite offended, but got used to it. Of recent times he has begun to self publish books of his own, each a love story dedicated to this woman who left him for reasons only they know and share, and in each novel it is the same love story just with different variation to the theme. However in each book what l have noticed is that he is almost ashamed that he once loved my Mother, which l find baffling. I have loved women in my past, many it could be said but of the five relationships of note in my life [including my current status] l have loved them all differently.
My Mother also lives alone, she is however very cynical to any kind of romance between a man and a woman, she has a male friend, who has become more of a companion for her as she ages, if the situation was different for them, they would probably live together even now, however they do not. Neither of my parents chose to remarry, once was enough sort of thing l believe, it was my Father who had relationships after the divorce and sadly before also, but my Mother is dead against the concept stating and l believe quite rightly that you do not need a piece of paper certifying that you love another. My Mothers’ male friend and she l believe are quite possibly soul mates, so do find it sad that they can not be together, but above everything their friendship has lasted many years, from both before her divorce and long afterwards.
My Father was always the first to throw accusations of adultery to the woman he supposedly loved during their marriage together, when not him, my Mother performed the task. I used to then think when younger ‘what on earth are the pair of you together for?’
I can not say with any clarification if my Mother was unfaithful to him, she certainly had a long line of adoring ‘want to be suitors’ in her wake, and this understandably infuriated my Father. Which in truth l can understand, I am not sure however if she only had these as a way of getting his attention. If l had to pick, l would say it was my Father who was the guiltier party on the physical side, and my Mother perhaps only on the emotional side, but how the hell would l know, everything was so damn confusing!
But if my Mother had, could l blame her? I suppose not, as much as l can not support adultery sadly there are times when l believe it to be a necessary evil especially more so if requirements are not being met in the marriage and usually it is because children are involved somewhere along the line!
Personally with the knowledge l possess now, marriage must have been hard for both my parents, l am convinced my Father is an Aspergian undiagnosed and unaccepting with some elements of narcissism present, my Mother would have gone through the throes of Cassandra’s, and from what l have read to date, can easily see the symptoms of that when she was my daily Mother.
Ironically despite my Mother stating that she never found my Father an affectionate man, my Father’s lost French flame of some years back, said she found him to be most romantic – but each to their own interpretation. It would not be an impossible thought to believe that my Father had in fact learned from his flaws and faults of his marriage as indeed l have with my own, and as such saw that perhaps there was a better way forwards.
But l am not here to assassinate my parents marriage and life together – there is no guide book out there for individual marriages, and during their time there was no genuine support groups for Aspie/NT marriages either as it was like myself – during his marriage he had no idea he was in any way, shape or form different and believed my Mother was at fault – it is that simple.
Her demands he believed to be unrealistic. However, unlike my own Father l am diagnosed, it is only my personal belief and opinion that he is Aspergic like his son, although he will never even contemplate such a concept and for me to make mention to it so freely in this book would only insult him. I have learned painfully and emotionally through my own errors and realizations that l was not quite the normal husband, lover and so on, but l have taken those faults and torn my soul apart to hopefully better myself and my behaviour. With me it is not by accident that l now go forwards but by intentional design.
You Don’t Bring Me Flowers
I have changed considerably in the last 26 or so months, if at the end of 2012 you had asked me my views on love, romance and relationships and living with a partner again, l would have laughed in your face, but there would have been no mirth, nor humour or even the slightest trace of a smile.
After the time in the caravan and the journey into me, l had become terribly jaded and cynical regarding the whole lot. I had convinced myself that l would never make a suitable partner again and resigned to the fact that maybe it was best that l live my life like my Father and just continue to be a celibate bachelor!
And after three years of living a monastic lifestyle anyway, no partner, no girlfriend not even a fuck buddy, my Mother suggested that l simply live out my days with my dogs as obviously l was not the kind to be with another woman, just like my Father! Which in truth did insult me, for all through my life one of the main conflicts l have constantly battle demons with was to NOT be like my Father!
However as we all know it to be – things can and do change, sometime for the worse, but equally as much for the better and once l had moved away back into brick foundations, my depression started to lift and l became somewhat excited again at the prospect that perhaps l was not going to die an old man alone, but just maybe l might try my hand again in the romance department.
Some men never learn l feel, and despite my much faster Internet connection with my new residence, l soon realised that the dating scene had not changed much from the cattle market l remembered it to be. Living alone with the disorder for some three years had made me more likened to that of a hermit than a stud muffin, and like before l still found the ‘profile’ part of the dating site very hard to complete without lying something which l am not that good at anyway. And in truth l did not wish to say ‘l was a mountain climber, who parachuted on the weekend into lagoons filled with piranhas’ to then emerge unscathed and Jet Ski around the bay, wearing nothing but a see through thong and a pair of Ray bands’ because well quite simply it was not me.
Make your profile alluring, secretive, and honest and women will respond, it states. Which l have to be honest and say ‘what a load of absolute Neurotypical crud!’ I am social to a degree, but in truth think l had become rather boring and staid, l was not out there with the ‘in crowd’, did not wear up to date fashion, was politically incorrect and at times have been known to be horribly inappropriate on dates, could not say intellectual with cutesy childish behaviour, as somehow although in truth pretty close, but in reality hardly manly!
If l thought l had trouble creating my own profile, it was even harder reading some of the bull crap l was seeing from women as was, l used to profile all the time – okay for a headhunter/recruitment agency, but still despite people confusing me in the flesh, l can see people by what they write and how it reads and l was befuddled and dazzled by what l was reading in these sites and then trying to fathom the text with the photographs, and to boot, it is a well known fact that there are more women on these sites than men, and somehow [no not sexist] they knew that they could become picky Goddess’s who could laugh at men who tried.
I tried, NT, geek, gamer and even so called Aspergian dating sites, and all of them were full of codswallop … so in the end, despite all good intentions felt that l may be better off in so far as now l lived in brick, my romantic life was well and truly over. I can flirt, l can woo, l can charm – yes – but l can not chat up and l could not complete a bloody profile and this made me feel even more demotivated than l was when living in my metal igloo.
I looked at myself and actually wondered if perhaps it was not them, but me, maybe living by myself for all those years learning about me, had perhaps altered my perception of things. Maybe l was not partner material, l mean in truth, l am very okay with my own company, do not mind being alone, do not become lonely, have no hankering for social outings, am relatively boring in comparison to my earlier years, am not materialistic, don’t go for superficial hobbies and had been considered very self centred and absorbed in my own time before … By the Gods was this it? Rediscover my identity, and know who l have become, relatively happy again with life and hey presto; never ever become romantically involved again with a woman??
Of course my Mother would say that l am way too romantic, a fool when it comes to love, that l fall in love with love itself and way too quickly and each time she would mention these things it would infuriate me beyond measure! And of course no arguments back would make her see any sense to her own conclusions, why should she feel different, she was after all, quite content to live her life the way she had been living it after the divorce from a man whom she had been with for some thirty years and the same man she had begun to hate.
The same man who had shown her no empathy at times needed, no love and affections. Yet, she was saying this because in truth the man she wanted to be with she could not be, and whilst she cares very deeply for this man, circumstances do not allow for them to be with one another, otherwise they would be together romantically, emotionally even at the companionship level they would be together, is there reason that she should not have become jaded with her lot?
Thankfully deep down, l know that l do understand the emotion of love, even if my Father during our growing up years had a difference of opinion or in the very least a slightly off beat way of displaying it. It is not that he was not ‘romantic or loving or even affectionate’, it was basically that my Mother did not perhaps appreciate the way he displayed that love, why should she? She is after all an NT, she would want to be loved like an NT wants to be loved and not the way an unknowing or unbelieving Aspie can.
His way, was a black and white approach, a more practical approach to the whole concept, he was the provider of the incomes into the house in his thinking, yes he was old fashioned in many ways, l too am old fashioned in certain ways, mostly in values, but he was similar to a Victoriana, thankfully these days he has become slightly more modernized in his thinking.
Yet he is still homophobic, sexist and a chauvinist to boot and can be somewhat racist and a host of other goodies, but in truth no different to many other men of his age irrelevant to disorders. I have made him sound like the atypical image of Alf Garnett of the infamous British sitcom ‘Till Death do us Part’ and that is perhaps comical but it is a truth.
I have had five important loves in my life and this does include my current partner, but it also includes my ex wife, we were married for sixteen years and that is no small feat in today’s age and in consideration that neither of us knew of my Aspergers, let alone anything of the disorder itself. Unlike my Father who chooses to believe that he never loved my Mother, his wife and only ever found true love with his last lady, l am not ashamed to admit that at one time l did love my ex wife very much. We were just not suited and this is why we divorced, however more on that in the next chapter. I have both painful and loving memories of the others, and l am very much in love with the woman l am with now. I did not fall in love instantly with her, it simply happened over time.
There are indeed many types of love for me l can say, not including the love you have for a good friend or a beloved and trusted pet or for your family members or indeed the love one can have for a good film, or a piece of fruit or some other inanimate object, and for me the love of a good woman in which you may find yourself entwined in a romantic embrace. I have loved and lost, l have loved and left, and there are others that l only believed l loved, not really knowing why.
In my past, I had adorned many women in my olden times of wooing with enough flowers to fill an acre of land, and enough sweetened candy to please a classroom of children, cards containing romantic smoothing would perhaps plant me a forest and meals out would quite possibly feed a small third world country, whilst attending to what l believed was what was required in the art of romancing could fill the coffers of a new bank!
My Mother was a romantic woman, and would oft school me in the arts of ‘what women wanted’ and would often wish and say that at times it would be nice if my Father brought her flowers just because, well just because he loved her being in his life … and not because he wanted something, or was trying to impress or get her in the mood for sex!
She would tell me what women wanted, but would never explain it properly, many a time l wondered if she was really talking to me or simply talking out aloud to herself. Constant was her emphasis on the softer side of the relationship, and not just the wham bam thank you maam side. All women wanted flowers she would say, even when they would say they did not, they really did! Those women wanted to feel important, special to their man, loved and cherished, romanced, equal, valued and treasured, to feel safe and secure. They wanted their man to know what he wanted in life, to go out there and get it, to take control but not possess them.
In my youth, my Father hosted a dozen or so undesirable traits, none of them particularly great, additionally he could be violent, mentally cruel, selfish, a right bastard in the true sense of the word. The longer he remained married to my Mother however, the worse he did become, it was plainly and painfully obvious at times that they were dreadfully unhappy with each other. He used to have tantrums which were really quite awful to witness, and ironically my ex wife would say this of me many years later!
In his way he was a loving man l should imagine, but l think he had troubles recognising the emotion, perhaps this is down to not only the disorder but also perhaps the way he had been parented. My Mother would constantly inform me that he was not the dutiful husband she had originally thought him to be. But l asked myself back then and ask myself the same questions today, what is a dutiful husband?
Duty and husband, the two words do not in my mind naturally marry, but perhaps this is also why my marriage faltered, was l a dutiful husband to my own ex wife? She bore no children through our years together, my choice, perhaps it was my duty to have made her pregnant? Should l have provided for her in other ways? My Father assisted in awarding my Mother two children, worked all of his life with her, they had a home together, a family, they will have despite today’s bitterness had times together that they shared and loved each other as two people together enjoy. Did he fulfill his duty to her? Perhaps yes, perhaps no … for if my Mothers’ memories are anything to go by, then she would say he was only there in body by 65% and the remaining time was not enough to please her.
Was he a doting Father? I don’t honestly know, he loved his children, but l do not often remember him being at home, it is not that he was never there, for he was, but even at times when present it was like he was somewhere else. My ex wife and l know that feeling only too well.
Was my Mother dutiful? She was a very good Mother, l have after all only ever had one, so know of no other comparison. She did all the things that l believe a Mother should do for her children and from memory for her husband …
But life changes people, children grow up, career paths are followed, friends are lost, stress builds and destroys, hopes and dreams can be dashed, as l said originally, what was once, can not be more than that, it is simply what was once. My parents grew apart from each other, they had developed into different people as nature changes her seasons. My Fathers’ ways changed her and hers changed him further, they became more distanced to each other, embittered towards each other – the disorder is responsible for much in a marriage, but not for everything. If my Father suggested many years on that whilst he loved my Mother, she was not his truest love, then who am l to say that this is wrong or whether it is right?
Was my Father a loving husband? How can l know, l was and still am only his son, my Mother will not stop long enough in her bitterness to talk straight these days, and constantly blames his unusual ways for her illnesses, paying no heed to the fact that like us all she is ageing and that comes with its own pitfalls.
The memory l have of home life is jilted and off centered, it is one sided l should imagine, for despite now acknowledging that l can see in my early fifties both of my parents flaws, back then l was fearful of my Father, submissive to his bullying and tolerant of his ignorance concerning me and my thoughts and ideals. This is a man who considered me to be a homosexual, or in the very least ‘just gay‘, not recognising my own shyness with the opposite sex as anything but a reluctance to want to become social with girls!
In addition to the in house violence and arguments that at times were continuous on a nightly level for weeks, l was oft left in some befuddled confusion as to the basis behind relationships, and the only real take on the romantic side of any relations between men and women were taken or extracted from books and films. I would see people in ‘real life’ involved in relationships and be jealous of the fact that it all seemed to flow perfectly well for many others, yet here l was a clumsy buffoon who would stutter and shake uncontrollably when in the presence of a girl l liked.
I do not easily recall the times when my Father would bring home flowers ‘just for the sake of it’, or of any tender moments between he and his wife, my Mother and for many a time he always seemed so distant to not just her, but all of us. And whilst now, all this has done is verified to me over and over again that he was/is an Aspie. I do recall the times when complete bewilderment would cloud his eyes at some of my Mothers’ admissions and requests, and how he just seemed to be completely clueless as to what she actually wanted.
So my role models for my future life as a Casanova in all honesty were not present in reality during my growing up years, a Father [Aspie] and a Mother [Neurotypical romantic] who were constantly at loggerheads with each other due to relationship confusions. Yet he would constantly listen to love songs, could not abide with any ‘slushy movies’ as he called them involving loving couples, and all his books were basically factual.
Little wonder is it, that l back then as a young man would find any kind of romantic inclination anything but confusing. My endeavours in this department had to be thoroughly researched, observations astute, sourcing of quality information subtle … not an easy task it has to be said. Romancing another just seemed to be a world of unreachable fantasy, unattainable and perhaps not even worth bothering with?
My ex wife used to say of me that l was an incorrigible flirt, Suzanne would say that l have the ability to flirt, but l don’t do it. And she is right, l have no need to flirt any more not with other women anyway, l flirt with her and am totally content with just her.
Back then, my research into the romantic me, was a long task, filled with many blunders and errors, and occasionally slapped faces due to the wrong words or terms being used in application! Other times l was told that l sounded like a modern day Shakespeare without the gift, and even someone once said l was like Benny from Crossroads! I took to reading a lot of romantic novels at one point in my life, not forgetting the factual books on romance, and then soon succumbed to watching love films. This was by far much easier!
But movies soon became my passion, my education tool; l could see the heroes in the film and what they did to make them more attractive to the opposite sex, and more importantly what they did to make the ‘romance’ occur. And slowly l would start to mimic the movies, over the years that followed l would often pick up extra tit bits and add them into my routine of ‘falling in love’. It had not been unheard of me to use ‘quotes and one liner’s from films when flirting or wooing!
But my days of looking for love and romance are now over, l met a lovely woman and over time l fell in love with her, she understands me, finally someone does, and yes l am still challenging, and irksome, but apparently am very much a romantic – how very odd, my ex wife would say to others that l was not in the slightest bit as romantic as l was when l was courting her, yet my partner of today says l am always romantic – strange how the irony of this paragraphs rings so many bells.
Come on, l mean not to appear overly cynical,
But this love game is for the innocent,
The reality of a broken heart is nothing but brutal,
And in all seriousness, valuable time misspent!
Sure we can listen to a thousand love songs all week,
And be carried away by a particular moment in time,
Convincing us that perhaps our next love will be ‘truly’ unique,
When in truth, it will probably again end in goodbye!
Love songs are ten a penny for those foolish enough to listen,
And thinking with their head stuck again in fairy clouds,
Yet if they were honest perhaps they should do some reminiscing,
Before falling for the great cupid and becoming enshrouded,
In the plague known as ‘falling in love’, that is always so ‘dreamy’,
Young unbroken hearts believing that this time is forever,
Unknowing that ‘the supposed forever saga’ is just as painful as acne!
Damagingly awkward leaving the mind in a state of constant fever!
Oh yes, for that alone it must be worth the effort, l guess,
Not knowing whether you are coming or going,
Your head in a painful spin your stomach a complete mess,
And forget not your swollen and confused heart bleeding,
Trying to validate the processes coursing through your mind,
Living in a time frame that has no open windows,
Irrelevant really in all honesty, for what now is time?
Now walking like one of the dead and everyone needs to know!
That it is because you are in true love and nothing else matters,
Nay, nothing now, anything at all, because of this thing called love,
That allows a person to wander around like a sickened creature,
Head stuck in the clouds and singing the praises of the Almighty above,
Whom before this wondrous time in your life, was cursed as a whore,
Because it was obviously God that destroyed that merriest of time,
That you had with the previous ‘loved one of ‘afore!’
But not you or not the fact that perhaps they were not the one destined,
To be the truest of loves indeed for your ‘oh so’ rewarding heart,
But hey, when one is in love, nothing as said matters any more,
Each morning becomes a ‘beautiful day’ and you cannot wait to start,
Torturing your already aching mind and soul for the one that you so adore!
Aye, l may indeed be overly cynical of this game of love,
I cannot deny l too have been down this bleary path,
When everything is golden and l have seen white doves,
Not forgetting the romantic inclinations that come with this bloodbath!
For when it goes horribly wrong, it soon becomes a nightmare,
All those fantastic times you shared together entangled,
In a mental love hate battle that boils over into open warfare!
Of two broken hearts that are no longer marveled!
Nor enamored with each other or any of the others’ parts,
Yes, this is what happens when it all goes terribly wrong,
And two loved ones break each other’s hearts,
It is then quite possibly that one such love song,
Comes into a renewed life of its very own,
Baccarat’s ‘I’ll never fall in love again’ echoes true,
In every wretchedly torn apart heart that is now painfully alone,
Retreating backward and not wishing to be viewed,
Until the next time that the now learned heart starts to venture forwards,
Cautiously this time, not falling so easily,
More aware of the pain that a broken heart affords,
To the foolish listener of love songs who is always so carefree!
© Rory Matier 2010
Chapter 13 – Ep 20 – Soon