Is it Better to have Loved and Lost, or never to have Loved at all?

So What did you Lose?

Some people love and lose the one they love; to death, relocation, or other circumstances that are outside of the control of themselves or even the other person. In those cases it is usually better to have loved and loss; because for a short time they knew love and happiness. They leave that situation with a broken heart, but in time the pain will ease and they will remember that time fondly.

Sometimes you love and lose your self respect, your values, you compromise your core self, and you lose your sense of self preservation. Sometimes you beg, plead, and humiliate yourself beyond anything you could have imagined. In those cases it would have been better to never have loved at all, at least for some of us.

I have loved only once, he was my best friend, and later lover. We had known eachother since we were 11 and had been friends since then. We became a couple for three short months when I was 21... (13 years ago) and had some confusing encounters again when I was 28 (6 years ago) and I have never recovered. I still can't figure out what catagory I fall into.

There are moments in our relationship that cause me such humiliation that I hate him for witnessing them, I remember them and ask myself why do I still talk to him? I have asked him this question as well, and he says he doesn't know either. But there are other moments that when I think of them my heart still skips a half of beat.

Do I love him still? Yes of course I do, he is one of my oldest and best friends. He is funny and smart, and we get eachother. The tragedy of me and Joey is that we never figured it out. But I have come to accept that I am stuck with him for better or for worse. In part because he never leaves me alone, even when I have asked him too. Secondly, because the one time he honored my wishes I fell apart. So, we will always be friends we have survived so much.

Is it the same? No, it's not I guard my heart now. I know how easy it is for me to fall in love with him, and so I pull away if I need to. He knows this, he can see right threw me. I told him once when he was suffering from his own heartbreak that sometimes I didnt' want to be there for him. He said, "I know, but when it matters, you always are." So that's us.

Was it better to have loved and lost? I guess so, if that's the only romantic love I will ever know. My heart is whole, but I wonder if I had not loved him, maybe I wouldn't have waited so long, maybe I would have had another love, I'll never know.

My childhood arch enemy

Mrs. Hovagian, my fifth grade teacher.

I often joke that if Mrs. Hovagian were to cross the street in front of my car with a walker I would run her ass over. I would slow down just enough to watch her roll over my hood in slow motion; you know to fully appreciate the moment. That said, I learned alot from her, I still know most of my states and capitals, and my spelling is okay, plus she taught me that even adults can be petty. Everything you want in a teacher right?

Let me paint you a picture, I remember her vividly. Mrs. Hovagian was an older woman (I would say late fifties), she was probably in her last five years of teaching when I had the misfortune of being her student. She wore limegreen polyester pantsuits and always had her nails painted hot pink. She had a 8 inch beehive, and had probably been an attractive woman when she was younger. But what I remember most is that she was mean.

She had beautiful handwriting, and she wrote each letter just like they taught us in third grade, it perfectly matched the letters going around the top of the classroom. She even had a signature stamp; I had never seen one and that impressed me tremendously back then. She also had an electric pencil sharpener we weren't allowed to use. She gave tons of homework each week and would send a mini report card home every friday with a list of missing assignments that had to be signed. I think she liked the idea of her students being in trouble all weekend. Did I mention she was mean?

She had her fifth grade class picture blown up to about a 16 X 20 size with her little unhappy face circled. I don't know what the point was, maybe to convince us she wasn't the spawn of Satan, who knows. She frequently told us how she used to get her hands slapped with rulers for being left handed when she was young. She said that people then believed left handed people were evil; of course in her case that was true. I'm not sure why she shared that bit of personal trivia unless it was meant to be a vieled threat. Maybe it was her way of intimidating us with the possiblity of ruler abuse. Unfortunately for her I was used to being beat by another mean old lady (my Nana Esther), so she didn't really scare me. I just hated her.

My lack of fear was often my undoing, plus I felt the need to stick up for people that wouldn't or couldn't stick up for themselves. One day while we were practicing handwriting my Mrs. Hovagian came to check on our progress, this of course was not unusual. However, my classmate Gabe was doing his very best, Gabe did have atrocious hand writing but this time it looked pretty good. Mrs. Hovagian leans over me, looks at his paper and says, "When you try Gabriel, it is almost decent." He was crushed, you should have seen his face. So I made my reply, "My mom told me, if you don't have anything nice to say, you shouldn't say anything at all." She pulled me up by my arm and marched me out of the classroom, once we were in the hall she started marching me to the office while digging her talons into my arm. I told her to let me go, she didn't, so I karate chopped her arm to make her let me go. Mrs. Hovagian then called my mom and told her I struck her. My mom wasn't sure what to do so she called my Dad and I got the worst beating of my life that night. The only beating I ever got from my Dad, but let me tell you once was enough.

I couldn't sit down properly for a week, I sat in class with one leg up because I could only sit on half of one of my buttcheeks. I know she noticed, because usually she would have told me to sit right, but my guess is she knew I couldn't. She never said a word about it. Even with the perspective of adulthood, I think she enjoyed it. Lucky for her, that old Bitch never crossed a street in front of me! Can you hear my brakes screech?

My Uncles Chris & Pancho will get my back

For a street rumble I would roll out with my family, they are CRAZY!

My Uncles Chris & Pancho
They are not big men, but they kick ass like they are. They can take on greater size and numbers and come out on top, with a smile still on their faces.

My Cousin Tini
She is the female version of my uncle Chris, she becomes someone else entirely when she fights. If you met her you would never guess sweet Christine was a bad ass. But if you piss her off, you get to meet Tini!

Neto (I love this kid)
He knows no fear. People that fear nothing are the most dangerous; and he has some anger he needs to work out.

Sonny from "A Bronx Tale"
Men that can deliver an ass kicking don't need to talk about it. They just do it. "Now yous can't leave"