Monthly Archives: September 2020

Three Months

It’s been three months since I lost you. Three long, challenging months. There are some days where I feel like I will be ok. There are some days where I feel like I can’t go on. But everyday I wake up, force myself out of bed, and take the pup for a walk. I walk, and I think about you, and I try to hold back the tears. Sometimes I succeed. I walk the places that we walked and remember the things we talked about, the things that we did, and think about how much I miss you.

I look at Turner running around getting his zoomies out, and I smile because I know nothing made you happier than Turner being a goofball. And then I feel overwhelming sadness that I can’t share that happiness with you anymore. I grab my pendant you made that I carry around my neck and I kiss it, and I wish I was kissing you. And I keep on walking because that’s all I can do.

I walk and I think about how crazy the start of quarantine was, how we were discovering the new normal together. You started working from home, and I got to see you in work mode. You were so good at your job. Professional, courteous, and badass. Then after work you would do something amazing like make jewelry, or a funny music video, or do some BLM activism. You got pretty good at battling Trump trolls. And you somehow still found time to spend with me and make me feel special.

I remember one night early in quarantine, you were already asleep and I was watching the news, watching the world crumble all around us, and I felt so isolated. I crawled into bed and started to cuddle with you. You thought I was being frisky. I just needed to hold you. I needed you to make me feel safe. You got me through that night. I wish I could have stayed in that moment forever.

I never imagined life without you. It’s pretty miserable. The highlight of my day is letting Turner run around off leash at the beach or park. He looks so carefree and happy. He gives me hope that I’ll find happiness again. He gets me through each day. I’ve been rationing out some of the dog food that you bought for him. Today he gets the last bit of it. I’ll let him know it’s from his mama.

I had three months of quarantine with you. Now it’s three months of quarantine without you. I keep slipping further and further from the past and into the future. I feel like time is pulling me away from you. I feel so helpless. I feel so afraid that I’m not going to remember everything, that I’ll forget all the little things that made me love you so much. So I jot down every memory down when they pop up. I got enough to write a book. I will one day, but it’s hard to be motivated when I’m so depressed right now.

I try to keep myself busy. Well, that’s kind of a lie. I try to keep myself distracted. It’s hard when everything reminds me of you. I have the Cowboys vs Rams game on as I write this, and it hurts because the last NFL game I saw was the Super Bowl with you. It makes me feel guilty. It’s tough to do something alone that we used to do together.

Time to wrap this up before the roommates come home and see me crying like a bitch. I fucking miss you. I love you, baby. I’ll never stop loving you. I promise you that.

Critically Rated at 1/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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Fart Ban

Mandy and I were together for about four and a half years before she passed away. In all that time, she never once farted in front of me. Well, at least never intentionally. She might have let some slip out while she was sleeping but those don’t count. She didn’t want to fart in front of me. I returned the favor and didn’t fart in front of her either. It was an unspoken rule at first, a casual fart ban if you will, but it eventually came up in a few conversations with other couples about how to keep up the magic and passion in relationships. We both thought that you shouldn’t fart in front of someone you want to have sex with. It’s not attractive.

I farted in front of Mandy one time and one time only. To be honest, I farted on her. But it was her fault. We were lying in bed on a lazy Sunday, I told her to pull my finger, she did, and I let one rip. She got a little mad, but she should have known better. Don’t pull fingers if you don’t want to be farted on.

That was a one time incident, and we stuck to not farting in front of each other. However she would always tell me when she had to use the bathroom, so it kind of defeated the anti-farting pact. Holding your farts in isn’t the key to a successful relationship, but it definitely doesn’t hurt. And if you can fart unashamedly in front of your significant other, good for you. Let those farts fly. I’m not judging.

Critically Rated at 15/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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I’m Back

I’m back. This post marks the end of my self imposed hiatus from Critically Rated. I got 2020’ed pretty bad. I lost my girlfriend and close friend/roommate in an unfortunate ATV accident. Everything came to a sudden halt, and two and a half months later I’ve only just started getting used to my new reality. It’s tough waking up each day knowing the love of my life is gone.

I’m trying to make sense of it. I’m trying to make it mean something. But it’s pretty fucking hard. I used to believe in fate. I thought fate brought Mandy and me together. I thought the universe wanted us to be together. But if I believe that, that means I was supposed to lose her. I don’t consider myself a Christian, but I believed in God. I prayed every night before falling asleep. I don’t know if I believe in God anymore. I don’t know how I can. I prayed that he would protect the ones I love and he fucked me over hardcore.

So I don’t know what to believe anymore. I don’t know if I believe in anything. I don’t want life to be random. I want it to make sense. I want to know that things happen for a reason. I know that any sense of security is an illusion. I can’t take anything for granted because everything can change in an instant.

I’ll never get over it, but I’m getting through it. Can’t stop the clock. Tick. Tick. Tock. Minutes into hours into days into weeks into months. Each new day takes me further away. I know I have to move on, start a new life, but I don’t want to. I want to wake up to Mandy.

I’m only living because I know she would want me to. But every new experience makes me feel guilty because I can’t share it with her. I’ve taken up gardening as a hobby. It helps pass the time, it gives me a sense of responsibility, and it gives me a sense of control. I can’t control what happens to me, but I can control what happens in my burgeoning backyard garden. Except for the fucking weather. And the fucking bugs. And the fucking gophers.

I’m afraid my happiest days are behind me. I don’t know if I’ll ever be happy again. But I know that I will be ok because I want to be. I’ll be alright. I’ll be ok.

Critically Rated at 2/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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