Tonight we spent the evening with
The Neighbor and the new Swiss
man in the neighborhood.

The Neighbor's girlfriend left
him after walking the Chemin
de Compostello and meeting a Belgian
guy.  I knew it was just a way for
her to get out of her situation with
The Neighbor.  She left and went
to the NORTH of France.  which.
is not. pretty.  Now she regrets this.
I know this because My Beloved has
been told by The Neighbor (who is
also My Equal Friend-why hasn't
he told me???)  that she has
called and sent emails.

Being who I am and having left
my husband...I know exactly how
this played out:

She met a guy who made her feel
appreciated like The Neighbor
did not...and so she left.  She hooked
up with New Belgian Guy and things
didn't work out.  Now, in her mind,
she is fucked (which, if you were in
the North of France, you could
perhaps understand).

In my mind: The World Has Opened
Up To Her.  But she is not a particularly
courageous person.  She needed the guy
in order to leave The Neighbor, who,
by the way, is a most excellent, if
conflicted, person.

What is strange is that in this gathering of
me and 3 guys, I felt more comfortable
than if she had been there.  I sang more
strongly when they played guitars, and
when we were writing a song I was not
shy about my chord suggestions.

Is this because I did not want to dominate
her when she was here?  Or that I feared
her judgement (she was never really frank)?

I know not what.

but I decided 5 minutes ago to try my
first drunkish post.

and, Dear Reader,  it has involved many backspaces!

My Beloved is shaving in the bathroom.
The Swiss is preparing to go back to Switzerland.
The Neighbor is missing his girl, that is assumed.

And I.

I am sitting here realizing that My Life
is in France.  That a few intense decisions
led me here.  That I, if I am honest, left
my husband for the love of a 19 year old
uneducated drug addicted Man-Boy who
made me feel more desire than I can remember.

A Man-Boy who is not My Beloved.

O Man-Boy.
I saw you on the side of the road
the other day and you looked like shit.
You are falling into your heroin addiction.

You are so very beautiful
and no one ever told you but me.

O Man-Boy.
How very different your life could have been.

If you had been well loved.

but it was only me who loved you well.

And one is not enough.

O Man Boy.
How you broke my heart.

And how I survived you...

Drunken PS:
I am very very sad that more people
do not want the secret to Sweet Sperm.
Even the people in Australia?
And Marina Del RaY???

I need a serious What What!!!!!


Evil Twin's Wife said...

You're almost half way there! :-)

Sara Louise said...

Ugh! I've made decisions in the past like the Neighbor's girlfriend. Usually made in a haste designed to hurt the guy (which never seemed to happen) but instead hurt me more. At least I never ended up in Northern France (yuck!). But have recently ended up in the South :-)
Hello neighbor!

La Belette Rouge said...

You're first drunken post was so much more profound and poetic than my first drunken post( I just wrote about Restyalne hurting). I am particularly touched ( not the right word and yet it is the only word that would come) by your awareness of being more you when the neighbor's girlfriend wasn't there. You got me thinking about that kind of dynamic.

French Shelter said...

ETW: O Yeah!!!! Halfway there!!!

Sarah Louise:
Excellent!!!! Someone who knows what it's like!!! Can't wait to get to your blog!

French Shelter said...

Belette: tu est trop gentil!!
Merci bien, and have an excellent trip!