My Love is Not my Love

“This week, consider the unreliable narrator — a classic storytelling device — in your own work, no matter your genre.”

The_Narrator

She is there. I see her. She was in my dreams and now we stand face to face.

And I think, “My love is not my love. She will serve me well.”

 

I win her over with a smile, with many compliments. Her co-dependency willingly accepts.

And I think, “My love is not my love. She will serve my physical desires.”

 

Her quiet, non-confrontational demeanor suits me. She is easy to be around.

And I think, “My love is not my love. She will serve my emotional inequities.”

 

She has a good job, one with a good paycheck. I admire her dedication and work ethic.

And I think, “My love is not my love. She will serve my desire to buy new things.”

 

She takes care of me, takes care of the house. She makes my food taste delicious.

And I think, “My love is not my love. She will serve my desire to sit on my ass.”

 

She is smart, witty, and talented in many ways. I tell her this on occasion.

And I think, “My love is not my love. She will serve my insecurities as I hide behind her.”

 

She stays for almost 30 years. Her upbringing tells her to keep going, to try harder, to make things right. She is a good woman most days.

And I think, “My love is not my love. She must continue to serve me. Forever.”

 

She wants better for us both. We argue, she seeks help. She tries.

And I think, “My love is not my love. When will they fix her? I don’t need to try, I need her to serve me.”

 

She smiles. I believe she loves me. She will stay forever.

And I think, “This is more like it. Serve me.”

 

But she does not. She plans and schemes and walks out on me.

And I think, “My love is not my love. She is not here to serve me.”

 

She was my love, once. She served me, once. She fell for my smile, once.

And I think, “I don’t understand. Why did you stop serving me?”

 

She is gone now. She doesn’t talk to me. She doesn’t accept my gifts. I name my cat after her. I send her a birthday card every September.

And I think, “What did I do wrong? I don’t know. I don’t get it.”

 

Her love is her own, she serves everyone but me.

12 responses to My Love is Not my Love

  1. M-R says:

    Almost 30 years ? – was it that long ?
    This is a wonderful record of the breakdown of a relationship – if such an adjective can be applied. But it was a while back … and outing something like this is so good for the soul.
    Easy to fall into that subservient rôle when so young: but never, never again !

    • bikerchick57 says:

      I’ve been divorced five years, so this post came with more ease than if I had written it four years ago. It was only tough to write in trying to find the right words.

    • bikerchick57 says:

      Thank you Belle. I hope you are not currently identifying with the post, that you are taking care of yourself.

    • bikerchick57 says:

      Thanks Andra. I’m glad that you did not stay 30 years and eventually found your soul mate in MTM. 🙂

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