Let it go, let it go, let it go!

I'm feeling like it's too late for me, but maybe someone out there will read this at some point and it will help them. I don't know, but shit I hope so. This is going to be a long post, because I tend to bleed out in public, so let me sum this whole thing up for you. Do not ever cheat on the woman you love. Just don't do it. Take it from me, a 43 year old man, at the time of this writing who is on the wrong side of someone I love and who I thought I'd die with. We had a beautiful love story and I fucked it up.
I first saw Denise when we were in college some 24 years ago. I was running late to class, and I was on my bike. We passed one another and she gave me a look that I've come to know as the "what are you about?" look. God, I love her. I noted the look and kept going. "I know I'll see her again" but I didn't, not for 20+ years. Thank God for FB.
I ran across this poem on a site that people post poetry on anonymously
If I Could, I Would
If I could, I would
put you whole into my mouth,
and roll you over with my tongue.
I'd sip your heated nectar
like honey most refined,
and bathe my throat in the luscious taste of you.
Should you wish I would
paint your skin with lightest touch,
and trace your name with fingertips.
I'd write my passions out
along your gentle curves,
and draw you arching up to greet my eager hands.
When you sigh I shall
catch your breath between my lips,
and hold it there to melt into my own.
I'd breathe my rapture back to you,
through all the chambers of your soul.
There to seal away my love where words can never reach.

Later, I found out that Denise wrote the poem, for me.
We talked on the phone for hours. Nov. 9, 2009 we became a couple. I knew this was the woman I had been praying for, the one I had been praying for. Sorry to say it looks like I've fucked it up.
A little under 5 years ago, I was homeless, couch surfing and deeply depressed. Denise picked me up, gave me unconditional love, paid my rent when I had no money, clothed me....she restored me.
When I met her, I was involved with another woman, let's call her Dulce. She's kind of a celebrity and we hit it off well enough. She and I liked each other, but I was depressed, she had some health challenges, actually lived pretty far out of state. I needed a lot more than I could ask from her, but on top of all that, when I met Denise, that was it. I didn't want to be the bad guy, though so I kept stalling.
Under all of that was my own deep lack of self love, and a sense of self esteem built on my ability to f*ck. Nothing real. I'm not a pornstar, but I was acting like I was and I earned a reputation to go along with it. Not one that I am proud of either. Really just some bullshit.
Anyway, Denise already knows this, but I had sex with Dulce. She came over and no matter what the circumstances, it was wrong. A little bit after that, I crossed the line again with another woman.
Not okay at all. Denise knew, and she kept asking me, but I kept lying about it. The lies just kept piling up, as I told myself that I was lying to protect our relationship.
I'll say it here, lying to your soulmate is never okay or justifiable.
There's a spiritual bond between couples. Cheating and the attendant behavior corrupts that bond. I don't know if it can be repaired.

Random 2013

I took this picture on the street.

I'm at a party. It is fun. I am old. And tired.

I've been doing a lot of thinking about manhood. There's just a lot of things going on that I've been reflecting on. I'm reading a book called the Sixth Sense:http://www.amazon.com/Sixth-Sense-Including-Secrets-Etheric/dp/156170501. It's a great book. It is helping me to understand and put into context some of the things that I have been seeing around me.
The main source of my contemplation has been the ways that I learned about what manhood looks like.
I think Black men are being sold a bill of bad goods. Black men learn to focus on getting all the pussy and none of the money and power. If we instead focused on doing the work of building ourselves and communities, we would have power and self determination. If we had power and self determination, then we would have real and lasting power. Real and lasting power.
Why do we as Black men, participate in the chicanery and coonery associated with being successful in this society? Why do we put so much emphasis on material things and no real substantive energy into self development and upliftment? Self development leads to the development of positive peer groups and family members, which leads to strong families.
I don't know....I started this a long time ago. Do what you need to do to make your life better.

Great potential

This post is not yet written

We used to be happy

I have proof.

Iono

I'm just a black guy living in Oakland, California. A wise fool. I'm so simple complex, flawed and absolutely fucked up.

For the past three years, I've been in a relationship. I thought this was the woman I was going to be the person I was with for the rest of my life. We are connected at the level of our souls and I love her deeply. So of course, I fucked it up.
When I first fell for her, I was dating someone who lived out of state and had some serious health challenges. I knew it wouldn't last, but I was in such a damaged state myself, I wanted to give someone something, I needed to give to someone so I could make it but all I had was myself. It ended, I thought graciously.
For some time, I had been praying to meet my soulmate. God sent her to me.

Let me say here that I am attempting to be as honest as I can. I have to get this out of me, if I don't it will fester and become cancerous. I am already depressed and finding it really hard to get the basic things I need to do accomplished. The most sure way I know to feel better and gain insight to myself is just to write.

So I slept with that first person, the one who lived out of state. I shouldn't have, but I did. And then after that happened, I thought I could remain friends with her, while I was still with my love. I'm just going to call her that here, because her identity doesn't need to be discussed. So because she is psychic (no bullshit, she really is) and all women are highly intuitive, she knew. I lied about it and became enraged whenever she brought up  the other woman's name. I lied and lied, told her and other people she was crazy. I just wanted it to go away, and pretend like it never mattered.

The way she thought, I wasn't happy with her, that I was just using her for her money....she became really unsure of herself and consequently of course of us. She'd moved up here after almost a year of flying up to meet me almost every weekend for 6 months. She was supposed to move in with me, but I had a long overdue to leave boarder staying with me at my house. His presence, our issue with me lying, the inequality in money ( she basically supported me), yeah it was a cluster fuck of problems. In a short amount of time, her father's chronic illness developed into a really aggressive cancer. He was the pillar, the anchor, her mainstay. I have never seen a woman who loved her father more or was closer to her Dad than her.
In our first year, she helped me get off my friends couches and into my own place to live, shortly after that, my stepmother passed away in her sleep. She was there for me.
In the spring of our second year, her father passed. He was with loved ones, but he had been in tremendous pain. It was also shortly before he passed that I admitted that I had slept with the woman I was talking about in the opening. The one who lived out of state.
So her grief is conflated with the pain of my betrayal of her trust and our relationship. There are all the attendant facts, such as I was not sensitive at all to her father's death. I asked her for her car. I know and feel now that I should have been on standby or there close by to be there in case she needed me to hold her.
I feel like a piece of dogshit.
Writing is the only way  I know to work with these feelings, these questions, the pain, the anger at myself and the malaise that lingers in me after all that passes.
In any case, that's what happened. This is now the third time we've broken up. What is that about three times and charms? This shit HURTS!
There was a time when we were happy. I have proof.
Now...what do I have? hard life lessons and a broken heart. A woman I adore who hates me and a lot of bad feelings.
And then there's the issue of K. Let's call her Kua
She and I met on the sub, I mean on BART. She told me that she noticed me long before I ever spoke to her. I asked her about my tie one day and we became BART riding buddies. We exchanged cards one day, then she was texting me and then she was on my Facebook. My girl saw her on FB, asked me to take her off. I wouldn't (stupid, stubborn, dumb, wrong priorities) Let me pause for the cause here. If you have a girlfriend and IF she asks you to take some girl off your Facebook. Do it. Trust me. That was my first really big mistake. 
I could go on and on, but basically almost every step I made was wrong. She left me and I was fucking the girl from BART the next day. Stupid again. I continued to deal with her for about a month and a half after my girl left me, "hate fucking" Hate fucking is when you deeply dislike someone but you have sex with them anyway. It comes out in what is supposed to be the most sacred act between two people. Hate fucking is the ultimate profanity.
My ego prevented me from listening and then from telling her the truth when she asked what was going on. The lying really hurt us in ways that I began to see then, but now it has been over three weeks since I've seen her and it really is all I fucking think about, is what I did wrong.
I'm pretty sure no one reads this, so I'll be bleeding out all over. Just fucking puking my guts out on this blog.
My heart is broken and writing this is making me feel better, and just putting it down makes it make more sense.