Tag Archives: heartbroken

The Fixer of Broken Boys Part 7: The Boy In Yellow

The boy in yellow…

The universe doesn’t always get is right when it picks your first love. And to be honest I’m not even sure if he was.

What I do know is after that party for weeks this extremely tall, blonde guy would stand by our table on the good hall and just look at me.

He would say nothing.

Just look.

I find out later he was pledging and he was not allowed to speak to girls.

I won’t give him a name.

I can’t.

Out of respect for what I’m about to share …

For him

For me

How do I even say all of this

How about the before?

The weeks before he was free to talk to me when I met not one but two men who  in rapid succession would introduce me to things I didn’t learn in high school and also in doing so break my heart.

They didn’t know.

I think there  is an assumption if you’re in college you come with experience.

Not all of us do.

So to my Kiefer Sutherland look alike. I had never spent a night at a hotel before. I had never really made out. You get the idea.

It was a night but you armed me with a little knowledge then disappeared.

Then there was my sweet brown eyed boy. You and I would break each other’s hearts on and off for four years. You never thought you were good enough for me. I never believed someone like you could want me. You tried so hard to impress my Dad and I will love you for always for that. You were a heartbreak but you don’t count because you were worth it.

I think I’m ready to introduce you to the boy in yellow….

Single Mom of the amazing Dbl G
Sometime DJ
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Henry Rollins Middle Aged Punk Prom Date

The Fixer of Broken Boys Part 6: My First Party

Cherie squealed with excitement when we got back to our dorm. Not only were we going to a frat party, apparently my friend’s fraternity was pretty popular on campus.

Us going there gave Cherie a head start on her pledge journey.

I on the other hand was petrified.

I did not drink.

I did not date.

Oh and guess who had never been to a party? Maybe a little too much freedom at once. Cherie to her credit which is why she is still my friend saw my face.

“Oh Caprise…you’ve never been to a party before?”

“More than that…” I squeaked.

I rattled off all the reasons why I was afraid to go.

“Oh no, you’re going. But effective now- buddy system. No girl left behind.”

Scott encouraged me to invite a few ladies from my floor because of course he did. LOL.

From that night on we really did not leave anyone behind. It got wicked sometimes and ugly and feelings were hurt. But we stuck together. Except for one. And we will get there and it changed things.

Not a heartbreak but a disappointment that I have never let go because if it were me… well … will get there.


My first college party was kinda of crazy. How could it not be? However, when your big brother – yup I became a little sister introduces you as knowing your Mom. My experiences were very tame.

As I’ve alluded to- the people who break your heart aren’t the ones you expect.

Poor Scott the one and only time he tried to kiss me- I got incredibly sick. God bless him he was one of the best nurses I ever had. Our paths cross once in awhile and everyone assumes we got together in college. We just chuckle as we both know he really was my big brother.

I know this was a bit light … but we are gearing up for my first big adult heartbreak. It’s tendrils still reach out to me years later so I’m trying to figure out how to write about heartbreak number five.

Single Mom of the amazing Dbl G
Sometime DJ
T-shirt collector
Henry Rollins Middle Aged Punk Prom Date

The Fixer of Broken Boys Part 2: My First Crush

I was five years old when I realized I liked boys. It happened super fast and even now at almost 46 I remember it. 1st grade music class sitting next to my best friend in the whole world. A boy sitting next to us pulls her leg so she will sit closer to him. She pulls my leg and we are both sitting next to said boy. Did I mention this also cemented my like for the blonde, tall, blue eyed nordic type? Oh it most definitely did. Eric from HBO’s True Blood -how you doing? The rest of the school year we were his girlfriends. It is also the closest I ever came to a threesome. So now you know that – insert blushing emoji here.

It would be easy to end this chapter here and say that was my first crush. While music crush boy was. He wasn’t it. He was just the start. Of many awkward exchanges. Many do you like me yes or no notes passed in class. Here’s the deal – when you are the smallest, have glasses and dentures. Yes you read that right. The odds are instantly stacked against you. It just is how it is. However being nice and smart while it didn’t always get you the guy, it got you some incredible friends and said guys may remember you later in life and the odds may then be in your favor.

We’ll get there…

My actual first crush was named Reed. I loved him so much. He had a bit of lisp and the biggest blue eyes. He was not a blonde but he was close enough.  He literally lived across the baseball field from me.

The day I fell in love with Reed was the year my Mom had me walk home alone. I am not a 100% on how old I was older than 1st grade younger than 4th grade. Two older girls that lived on my street would walk behind me everyday and call me names from the school to my door step. Jaws teeth, witch face, four eyes, midget, freak…

I usually held it together. Who I am f#@&ing kidding? I cried the whole walk home. For some stupid reason I didn’t think to run away or wait til they weren’t near me. Instead every day my walk home was accompanied by those two ladies and their very limited vocabulary. One day my Mom had dressed me up in this beautiful white daisy concoction and had actually woven ribbons in the braids in my hair. I know!  Well the braids didn’t survive as as soon as I got to school – out. The white tights nope = monkey bars and dirt underneath – well you can imagine.  However I still thought I looked pretty spectacular.

My two favorite future trailer park ladies strongly disagreed. We were maybe six feet from school and it started. “I don’t know why your Mom bothers freak.” “It’s not like you are a girl.” “I am not even sure if you are human, you little freak.” “No one has teeth like that, are you a vampire?” I bet you are”. Sidebar there was a time in my life I was convinced I was part vampire or at the very least a magical little witch who had been adopted by my parents so I could have a normal childhood. Did I mention I read a lot early on? Very vivid imagination. VERY. Now would a 17 and 18 year old freshly graduated high school senior adopt a premature baby with a heart condition so it would not know it was really part vampire or witch? I am gonna vote no, but that should tell you how much I loved my parents. I believed they would. To grade school me they were that magical.


My least favorite soundtrack continued. Next thing I know thing one is standing in front of me and thing two has grabbed my arms. “I think we need to see those shark teeth up close” ” Do you like blood?” 

Before thing two could ask another question my savior had beamed thing one in the back of the head with a rock. A lisp(y) voice yelled out “Run!” My hand was grabbed and I was running. We ran all the way to his house. We stopped at his front door and he my knight in a garanimal shirt said “I’m Reed. This is my house. You are Caprise. Can you hang come play?”

“I have to ask my Mom.” “My Mom will do it.” “Mom this is my friend Caprise I want to play with her, can you go ask her Mom with us?”

She did and for the rest of the school year Reed walked me home everyday. And everyday after school I went to his house and played video games or tried to play baseball or catch a football with the love my life. Until his Dad would come home and then his Mom would sadly look at me and tell me it was time to go.

It was one of the best years of my life. No one picked on me and my friend literally lived 2 minutes from me. He never teased me or called me names. As you do when you are little you think this will never change.

Until it did. Mom’s don’t look sad just because. Sometimes Moms are sad because they know they can’t protect you from big changes. Like a divorce. Reed was the first kid I ever knew whose parents were divorced. He most definitely would not be the last but aside from my own divorce it hit me the hardest. Who was going to share their candy stash with me? Who was going to try to teach me sports?

The day Reed and his Mom moved he came to my house with a fistful of dandelions and a sandwich bag full of candy. He stood in front of me and said my “Parents are getting divorced. My Mom and I are moving to California. I love you Caprise.” He kissed me and ran across our field.

I am smiling as I type this. All girls should have a Reed in their life. I am so lucky I did.

Heartbreak number one…


Single Mom of the amazing Dbl G
Sometime DJ
T-shirt collector
Henry Rollins Middle Aged Punk Prom Date

I Knew Then

I knew. I knew a thousand times over.

I promise myself that I will write this once. I will write and I will leave it. I won’t retouch it or second guess it. I will not apologize for it.

I won’t forget it but I will not live in it. I will not bathe in the sadness of it. The anguish of the emptiness that defines this part of my life.

This hollow part in my center.

I have not allowed myself to really feel despair to this point. The literal mourning to my core that makes me question, can I do this today? Can I do this life?

I spent years, ten of them married, making sure that someone else was OK. I lived for it. I lived to take care of someone else. I felt responsible. I never felt trapped or obligated. I never felt stuck or unsure.

If anything, I was sure. I was certain. I was certain that if I tirelessly loved this man without end I could make him better. I could make him love me the way that I loved him.

I could make him love being a father. I could make him love being a husband. I could make him love his life. I could wait him out. He would return to me.

I really did believe that.

But underneath, I knew.  If I replayed all the things he’s said or done to me that he’s long forgotten, or buried in shame, I knew a thousand times.

We stood outside all that.

I loved him relentlessly through everything.

I loved him through addiction. Recovery. Relapse. Unemployment. Bankruptcy. Home loss. Mental illness. Lying. Betrayal. Loneliness. I had such an uncompromising determination to believe that so much was out of his control to the point that no matter the amount of hurt it caused me, it suddenly occurred to me that it would never actually end.

I clung to small moments of happiness like a child clings to their lovey in their sleep. I carried them around like fragile pieces of glass, and they got me from minute to minute, month to month…year to year.

I know what it feels like to love someone so loyally and unconditionally that I overlooked and compartmentalized so much and so well that I literally drowned in my own care giving. I drowned out everything I ever wanted, everything I ever thought it would be, everything it should have been because I believed that somewhere, deep down, the man I married was inside.

But when the divide between two people in a queen bed is so wide that being in the same room literally gave me panic attacks, or when reaching for your lover’s hand and they don’t respond, or worse, pull away, you know. When they lie in the dark and whisper “You deserve better than I can give you” and roll over to the other side. When you glance in their direction across the room, and they look away…every time. When you send the kids for a sleepover so you can eat a meal that consists of something other than fish sticks or pancakes and make love all over the house, or dance in the kitchen, or get silly drunk on the deck or go for a walk and be quiet…and none of that actually happens and instead you end up on two different couches, in the dark, dying inside.

That is what the part before the end feels like.

I remember following him out to his car one morning before work. I didn’t have shoes on and the driveway needs repaving. The gravel hurt my feet. My insides hurt more.

I said “I just want you to see me. I just want to be seen. You look right past me.”

He said nothing. And left.

This is how countless conversations went. Words came out of my mouth and into the air and disappeared.

I disappeared. Figuratively, then literally.

I left him at a wedding.

I could not bear the thought of sitting quietly with a smile plastered to my face congratulating hopeful, joyful newlyweds, while my marriage made its final descent.

I wanted to scream my vows in his face until my voice was hoarse:

“Today I am certain.  I am certain that you are the man that I was meant to live my life beside.  I stand here and I see our lives before me.  I see lazy Sunday’s and crazy work weeks, love notes taped to doors and good night kisses, stolen covers, and missing socks.  I see family, and children, and laughter and a love between us that is too big to measure.  I look forward to a life full of the planned, but mostly the unexpected. My love for you finally leaves me speechless.  Undoubtedly, from this point forward, I give you my hand to hold, and my heart to keep.”

I left the hotel room and looked back only once. The space where I wished he was standing was empty.

And I knew. It was the final time that I knew.

I took a $93 taxi and an hour drive back to what was once our home and slipped my wedding rings into my purse. As many times as I had thought about that moment before, when it finally came, it hit me like a thousand violent waves.

It was the most freeing heartache of my life.

Jessica-Awesome Single Mama