Mr.and Mrs. the saga continues...

There are plenty of songs and poems describing a person in love. Some call it a state of unequivocal joy, while others refer to it as absolute euphoria, where two insane people are completely unaware of the world around them. Love is blind is just one of numerous clichés coined to justify the actions of a person diagnosed with a case of 'The Love Jones".

On the other side of the spectrum there are just as many descriptions of one who has fallen out of love. The agony and pain of a fallen solider on love's battlefield is a universal feeling almost everyone can understand.
The feeling one gets when someone you care about leaves you to drown in a puddle of your own miserable tears isn’t an easy feat to overcome. Though, these two points on love's continuum are as opposite as water and oil they are both distinct destinations where feelings are easily identifiable.

 Where are the songs, poems, written sources, or clichés for someone at a state of numbness? A point defined by neither good nor bad, but rather complete ambiguity. Is this the plateau that is reached when an individual is tired of being in or out of love? Is one better or worse off when they are here, and how does a person reach such obscurity?

These questions and many more arose in my thought process because I was at a state of numb. I stood at a place where nothing mattered. I witnessed the word love being abused so frequently it has lost all meaning .I lost expectations, and I literally became immune to being in love and falling out of it. I lacked the thirst to title myself as "in a relationship”, nor was I eager to brand myself as 'single'. I was simply aloof when it came to that "L" word. There are many different circumstances which led me down such a deserted road, but there was one, in particular, that aided the most in the homicide of my emotions completely.

I was a junior in high school when I became interested in Mister. I had known him for quite some time because we shared mutual friends, and even had a cute junior high crush, but nothing more than that As usual things started out perfect. We laughed, he was attentive, and he treated me just like I should have been treated.

One of my fellow volleyball teammates had convinced me that he was a catch, and I soon agreed.

“Giiiiiiiirrrrrrrllll, you seen Mister lately,”? She squealed.

“Yes ma’am,” I replied as if I was as cool and nonchalant as Guppie in the movies, The Mack.

When in reality I was screaming louder than fans in the front row of an Usher concert.

I was initially apprehensive, but I quickly ignored my fears. I was coming out of a relationship with a previous asshole so he was, in a way, my knight in shining armor.

Now anyone who knows me will tell you I keep my feeling pretty tight under wrap. i mean I'm not cold blooded , but I’m not the kind of girl who falls in love quickly. I’ve watched the terrible withdrawal symptoms of love addicts trying to let go of past relationships, and I couldn’t be that girl.

Unfortunately, I began to let my guard down and trust him (I became that girl).  This was a foreign concept to me because the idea of trust had been as abstract as wind blowing on my cheek on a summer day. I mean I knew it existed, but I had no way of touching it.  This was different, though, because I actually started to tell him things I hadn't even told my closest friends. I started to engage in that unequivocal joy I mentioned earlier, and can you believe it? I was in love, that or I was among millions of other 17 year-olds girls who also believes they were in love. Of course, I didn’t initially inform him for obvious reasons. I was taught when it came to love you had to approach men like a hunter approaches deer in the wild. Slow and steady because in an instant you could scare them off.

I played it cool, well as cool as I could, for almost a year, and while I was making millions on Love’s Jeopardy I didn’t even attempt to notice he wasn’t even a contestant on the show.

We would talk for hours on the phone, and Myspace chats. (I wished I’d saved them as evidence to show I wasn’t crazy), but in public discourse I could count the few words he uttered to me.

I remember a day a friend and I cut class to sneak into his. (This was not the most intelligent moment of my life I admit that just as a disclaimer). He completely ignored me, and I mean I am professional passive aggressive diva so I played it off quite well, but in reality I wanted to scream, and yell at him! “You are the one who is calling me,”!

As I look back perhaps I could have saved myself a few months of agony by just being more insightful, but if you ask anyone that knows me they’ll also tell you that I am very oblivious in my own right. I could be in the middle of a tornado, and not pick my head up from Twitter until a cow flies past my face.

 Nonetheless, he had deceived and humiliated me. I was devastated. Heartbroken would be an understatement. I felt so much pain crying just didn’t suffice anymore. I decided to I’d just let the tears swell up inside until they and the rest of my emotions evaporated into a mist of memory of what could have been.

Now one would think after this point the story would end in me saying I left him, and eventually got over him right? No, wrong! I, like a damn fool, continued to talk to him daily, partake in intimate situations with him I shouldn’t have, and all the while he continued to still do the same with another Mrs. Even after that dreaded day he finally got the nerve to finally admit the truth to me, and the rest of the universe as if we didn’t already know.

I will never forget scrolling through my Myspace messages, and seeing his picture with the subject title  of  I’m sorry. I opened it up and read as he poured out his sins as if I were a viral priest of some sort.

“I have been talking to her, and I asked her and everyone else not to tell you because I didn’t want to hurt you,”.

 I admittedly, was half humored and half pissed that he would think I really needed this confession to know the truth! There had been enough buzz and rumors about him and Mrs. Over the course of four months that Horatio could have solved the case in 15 minutes of an episode, without a body.

Though this appeared to be the closing remark of an ill-fated relationship, it was actually just the beginning of a my personal saga with Mr. and Mrs.