the world and writing of a nyc writer

gretchen is a writer in new york city

Tag: heartbreak (page 8 of 13)

when you love the hit

Well, another lover burned to the ground. This time, it was all over words.

IMG_3279When you are a born Writer, and like, have never done anything but process life in characters essentially since inception – you pay attention to what people say. Especially when you’re fucking them.

My boyfriend said three really shitty things in less than a seven day period.

And I snapped.

Blog tribe that’s been in my crew since this page started in 2009 know that I am a generally, relaxed and peaceful creature. Also, I will do anything for anyone. If you need something in my power to provide, have it. Just try not to rob me.

I feel like Brooklyn robbed me. It took me out of my life and put this gorgeous Italian man in front of me and literally took me for a ride.

I hate that.IMG_2923

When I was boohooing to my favorite sister yesterday over this, I made the additional claim that the best thing to me about any relationship is the Art it creates.

I’m not sure how true that is. I always say I’m in love with being in love, but I don’t reckon that is what recently occurred. I think I actually met someone I sincerely cared about, and once again was sent reeling.

When the last one and I first met, we talked about how neither of us could be hurt by the other, because we’ve both been fucked over so hard already – the encounter was already somewhat insignificant.

In any event, I spent five weeks in love with Anthony. And between you and I, it was honestly my favorite so far.

I’m grieving. I’m going to dye my hair silver today. Love to you, yours and ours blog tribe. Stay blessed. Even when the rest is impossible.

 

i may have accidentally dumped my boyfriend

One thing that being divorced twice by 37 has taught me, I’m a shit girlfriend. Regardless of my husband collection being utterly dysfunctional, I like being married. I do not, however, enjoy being a girlfriend.

Being a girlfriend has all of these stupid rules like being available and knowing when someone will swing through. I have to remember when to shave my legs and straighten my hair and clean my apartment. Continue reading

transport delivery

Transport Delivery

“Thanks for not having sex with me.”

There’s nothing quite like a 27 year old lover scorned. We started sleeping together when he was 24. I ended it recently for someone who is 52 and speaks French. Someone who appreciates shoes, smells like tangerines and tastes like vanilla.

Certain things are worth the sacrifice.

I’m on the corner of 44th Street and 3rd Avenue at 8 in the morning, when midtown is just as hopping as the meat packing district at 4am. Every creed and color pours up and down avenues, in and out of transport hubs. There’s so many of us, it’s like no one even notices each other.

“You’re welcome.”

We kiss on the cheek in the amicable style we’re each trying to adjust to. This is what it means to make friends with someone you used to fuck. I’m 37 years old, I haven’t done this to date. I’m still uncertain that I’m going to start now.

There’s something beautiful to me about standing in the center of Manhattan wearing sweatpants I slept in with messy bed hair. You never know where life will take you.

The cold February prick of winter stings my cheeks as I turn to walk home. I try to be a good host and always escort guests to their destination. That’s part of why I love living in my neighborhood, there’s 24-hour transportation that can literally get you anywhere in the world. That’s how I ended up living in Australia for ten years.

I originally left New York City for love and I came back because of heartbreak. Both times I was saved, for different reasons. There was at least one solid lesson that came of it all, anyways; your heart only breaks once.

And then I fell in love

Namaste blog tribe

I’ve been fucking with this blah-g for six and a half years now.

That’s a hot minute.

When I started it, I was at the end of a nine year marriage what was one of the saddest, most neglectful relationships I’ve ever endured. Then I left Australia after about a decade, and came back to a city I had to escape from a very long time ago for reasons outside of these parts. IMG_1157

And she saved me, Manhattan picked me up, brushed me off and gave me a chance to use the only resource I have beyond my every day being – ink – and build a life for myself in midtown, Writing. Continue reading

welcome (the world)

welcome (the world)

he introduced me
not knowing
there is no one i need
to know. and while
these women gossiped
and laughed and bantered
my lungs expanded
while my eyes closed.
they said: she’s an alcoholic.
she isn’t one
of us.
they spoke and spat
mouth running mischief.
when this happens –
protection shuts
me down. before i rise
i take time
to consider. to think
about the color of his e(yes)
and accent of his voice
and things he does
not say
while he was trying to know
me. i was
never. one of whatever.
i hope he pleases her
before me
because i am nothing
but one second
of time. that
does not exist.


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