So I still feel like shit. The ex- doesn't seem to stay away from my mind for very long. It's annoying. Because it seems to cause me nothing but pain.
I've been listening to this guy named Betinho Massaro. He's some sort of self-help guy. But not cheesy. He's hella young and seems to have found his bliss. Or he has found a bliss that he believes we can all access, and he wants to share it with anyone who is interested. What he says reminds me a lot of Stranger in a Strange Land by Ray Bradbury. As if there is a higher level we humans can attain if/when we open ourselves up to it.
And I believe that. I think I've believed that since I first read Stranger (circa 1980-something). Betinho's talks are sometimes thick and hard to follow. I'm only just starting to listen to him. We'll see where that goes.
But I do believe that we are all connected, as one primordial goo, and that we can (and should!) tap into that goo in order to keep ourselves on balance.
Why I'm not doing that right now is a concern for me.
Instead I'm here at my local pub, eating a hamburger, drinking a beer, and wondering what the hell has become of my life. Why am I at this fucked up place, and how do I get home from here? Figuratively, of course. I know how to walk home from the bar.
Decisions.
I think I need to get back on anti-depressant meds. I'm thinking this inability to move on from the breakup is part and parcel of being drug-free. Or, perhaps more accurately, the crutch of drugs might help pull me out of this rut and allow me to see things more objectively.
I move through phases of rationality (or what I decide to call rationality. Perhaps it's acceptance, lying to myself, rationalization of the ex's crappy actions, seeing the situation from all sides, whothefuckknows), into phases of complete immobility and depression, then through some phase of neutrality. I don't like the immobility, nor do I like the neutrality. And being so fucking understanding is noble, but annoying as fuck. Because there is still this anger lurking below the surface. Just below the surface sometimes.
I believe that the understanding me is true. I love the fact that I can see other's perspectives, that I can commiserate with them, that I see a view other than my own. But when it's so close to my own experience it's both admirable and shitty. Great that I can objectively see their view, shitty that it can hurt me so much at the same time. Too bad I can't be like others - lashing out when I'm in pain. In some ways it would be easier. However, that's not my truth. My truth is that I'm very fucking empathic. And, ultimately, I like that about me. I value it more than I value protecting myself from potential pain. Apparently.
The anger I have is long-standing. It's not anything new. When I was in high school I would day-dream about having access to an old car and a bat. I would think about taking the bat to the car, beating the shit out of it. Take that, you fucked up old car. It's never been too clear who the car represents to me. Easy to assume it's my dad. And maybe it is. But that is so deep, so entwined into my person that the anger can be triggered by things others do. So is that anger at that person, or at my dad? Or both? Who the fuck knows.
It's why I bought the punching bag. It's why I'm thinking of spending the little money I have left on taking a boxing class. Learn how to properly punch the shit out of something so I don't hurt myself.
Fuck this sucks. I'm in so much pain and I can't quite figure out the source in order to tame it, corral it into some corner of my being so that I can function. And I don't feel like I have many people I can really talk to about it. Yes, I have friends who will listen. Until they're bored. Or until they have an opinion to add. Then they stop listening. My therapist, my friend Trish, my friend Angela and my sister are the four with whom I can really have a substantial conversation about my shit. I don't believe others are that interested.
This town is so soft! Maybe it's the rain. Someone recently told me that Portland has a very strong female essence (or something like that). I'm such a fucking tomboy that I don't fit in here. I'm harder than those around me. It's not that I don't believe in all the left-wing liberal values - I do. But I'm tired of soft-peddling myself. I'm not the all-understanding, "up with people" kind of gal. I'm rough around the edges, I swear like a sailor (and more often, and better, than quite a few of the men I know), I don't ascribe to the "ease everyone into the new thing" method that so fucking many people here seem to live by. Throw them into the deep end is my thinking. Stand by to rescue them, of course, but let them learn their own strength through experience.
Abominable ale, Grumpy Elf ale. It's my mood, I told the bartender.
Decisions.
I need to let go of the ex. I need to ignore him, even. Forget that he was ever in my life. Let that wound heal for a while. I still love him - at least I love what I thought he was. Whether he is actually that image - or even somewhat close to that image - is unsure to me at the moment. I want him to be that person so badly. I want to believe that I saw the truth of him. That I saw a possibility for my own future - to be in a partnership with someone who really, truly loves me. Whether it's him or someone else. Right now I want it to be him, but fuck.... only time will tell on that one.
Silly me. I've read so many love stories. They talk about the "tough times", and then the hero/heroine moves through that time in 20 pages or so. To bliss. To happiness. Those books don't make it clear just how fucking horrible those 20 pages are. And that those 20 pages last a Long. Fucking. Time.
What do I have to complain about really, though? It's been 1 1/2 months since the shit started to hit the fan. Maybe only a month since we actually broke up. One month.
Fuck.
I'm a mess.
Sunday, December 20, 2015
Friday, December 04, 2015
Ah Shit.
It's the end of 2015. And I feel fine.
Not really. I just broke up with my most recent boyfriend. This one I thought was the man of my dreams. And he still may be. But he is coming out of a 15-year marriage which was blown up (at least in part) by actions he chose to pursue. Not little actions, either. Big ones, which span years of that marriage.
And yet, I still love him. Warts and all.
He is in dire need of fixing himself. He hates himself. He has an unending amount of guilt. He doesn't want to repeat the mistakes of his past. He doesn't want to do to me what he did to his ex-wife.
All of which I understand and respect. But it still hurts. He gave me a taste of what I have longed for - a man who treats me well, who is fun to be around, who can be that manly man I want and still let me be the tomboy I am, who seems to be more emotionally aware than any other man I've ever dated. So it hurts to have to walk away from that. (He's not perfect, not by a long shot. But I know that. I've seen where he is imperfect. Can I live with those imperfections? I guess that's a moot question at the moment.)
I also have my issues, and this relationship really brought them to the forefront. My dad abandoned me and my sister when I was very young. It was abandonment in slow-motion. It happened over the span of 10 years, from when I was 4 through 14. He had remarried and had another child. Along with being the daily father figure for three children from his wife's previous marriage, there wasn't room for my sister and I in the picture. My dad didn't know how to stay in touch. And he couldn't just cut the ties and walk away. Rather, he kept us in limbo - never quite accepting us fully, not letting us go either. And over the years I kept the hope alive that someday he and I would be able to reconcile our lost time. Then he died this past January and that hope went with him.
And my anger towards him came out. But that's a different story from the one I want to tell now. Right now I want to talk about this breakup.
The signs that things weren't good in boyfriend-land started a month ago. He had gone away for a weekend by himself, to contemplate his life - his recent divorce and the causes of it. When he came back he was distant. I should have known that the relationship with me was all too much for him this close to his divorce. But his distant demeanor tapped directly into my abandonment fear and suddenly I was back in my 4-year old mind, scared shitless that I was going to be left alone. So I wasn't thinking very logically or, well, normally on any level. I'm only now coming back to my senses, really.
We kept going for three more weeks. Things got a bit manic. I saw it, but couldn't stop it, couldn't recognize it so well because I was part of it. I was manic with fear. He was manic with... I don't really know. We were on a path to somewhere bad, we had started to go off the rails. Fortunately he saw it too, and was able to do something to end it. I wasn't. My abandonment fears would have made me go through hell so that I wouldn't be left behind. I had done that before, and it had ended poorly. But I don't always learn the first time around.
He came to see me one evening, and we talked. It was painful. I thought I was hearing the same "I don't know what I want" comments from him that I had heard before. After that he somewhat disappeared again. I had another week of emotional hell. My mind was playing tricks on me. What did he want? Why wasn't he calling me? When was I going to see him again? What if he wanted to break up? What if he doesn't love me? What if it was all just a big cosmic joke on me? Again.
My 4-year old self was in sheer panic mode.
The idea to ask "what do I want" only came up by talking with my sister. This wasn't just about him. She asked me what did I need? What did I want? Well, what I wanted wasn't possible. And I knew it. I couldn't fix his issues, and I was only just starting to work on mine. We were both in the wrong spots at the wrong time. Dammit. So my options were to continue on in my misery or to break things off. In my heart of hearts I could grudgingly accept a break up - as long as I was the one who was calling things off. My little 4-year old self would be destroyed by being left again, but she was very familiar with the self-preservation tactic of getting out before you got left behind.
But I still didn't like that option. Somehow the hope that, magically, everything would be fine kept clanking around in my brain. Magical thinking. When, really, I knew what needed to happen.
He came over to visit. We chatted a while about what had been going on in our lives. It was awkward. We were talking, but not interacting. Finally I asked what was up with us, were we just friends now? He said that was all he could offer me and that he thought he had made that clear the last time we saw each other. I said no, that hadn't been clear.
Sigh. So there it was. We were broken up.
In the long run, we said we both want to leave the possibility open that we can revisit a romantic relationship together in the future. So it's open. It's a possibility. We're both still attracted to each other. We still care a lot for each other. Really, it's a very positive break up on the surface. No yelling, no recriminations, we talked about where we were each at and agreed that to continue on would be in no one's best interest.
But underneath my surface I'm still hurting. Every break up hurts. This one only more so because I saw what it could be. Maybe. In the future.
In the meantime I have to get back to myself. My lonely self. I need to fix my own issues. My ex's actions (his distancing himself, his issues with clear communication) are not the actions of my father. Full stop. They are similar, and thus they raise the spectre of my dad. But they are not the same. My dad was an adult, was supposedly my protector. But he failed at that task. My ex has actually succeeded in protecting me - by stopping our relationship now instead of later. But I'm still hurt. I still need to convince my 4-year old self that this wasn't her fault, that she is still lovable, she is still valuable, that she has always been those things.
I may not be a mom, but I know how hard it is to convince a 4-year old of something she doesn't quite believe.
End of the year. Time to emotionally clean house.
Not really. I just broke up with my most recent boyfriend. This one I thought was the man of my dreams. And he still may be. But he is coming out of a 15-year marriage which was blown up (at least in part) by actions he chose to pursue. Not little actions, either. Big ones, which span years of that marriage.
And yet, I still love him. Warts and all.
He is in dire need of fixing himself. He hates himself. He has an unending amount of guilt. He doesn't want to repeat the mistakes of his past. He doesn't want to do to me what he did to his ex-wife.
All of which I understand and respect. But it still hurts. He gave me a taste of what I have longed for - a man who treats me well, who is fun to be around, who can be that manly man I want and still let me be the tomboy I am, who seems to be more emotionally aware than any other man I've ever dated. So it hurts to have to walk away from that. (He's not perfect, not by a long shot. But I know that. I've seen where he is imperfect. Can I live with those imperfections? I guess that's a moot question at the moment.)
I also have my issues, and this relationship really brought them to the forefront. My dad abandoned me and my sister when I was very young. It was abandonment in slow-motion. It happened over the span of 10 years, from when I was 4 through 14. He had remarried and had another child. Along with being the daily father figure for three children from his wife's previous marriage, there wasn't room for my sister and I in the picture. My dad didn't know how to stay in touch. And he couldn't just cut the ties and walk away. Rather, he kept us in limbo - never quite accepting us fully, not letting us go either. And over the years I kept the hope alive that someday he and I would be able to reconcile our lost time. Then he died this past January and that hope went with him.
And my anger towards him came out. But that's a different story from the one I want to tell now. Right now I want to talk about this breakup.
The signs that things weren't good in boyfriend-land started a month ago. He had gone away for a weekend by himself, to contemplate his life - his recent divorce and the causes of it. When he came back he was distant. I should have known that the relationship with me was all too much for him this close to his divorce. But his distant demeanor tapped directly into my abandonment fear and suddenly I was back in my 4-year old mind, scared shitless that I was going to be left alone. So I wasn't thinking very logically or, well, normally on any level. I'm only now coming back to my senses, really.
We kept going for three more weeks. Things got a bit manic. I saw it, but couldn't stop it, couldn't recognize it so well because I was part of it. I was manic with fear. He was manic with... I don't really know. We were on a path to somewhere bad, we had started to go off the rails. Fortunately he saw it too, and was able to do something to end it. I wasn't. My abandonment fears would have made me go through hell so that I wouldn't be left behind. I had done that before, and it had ended poorly. But I don't always learn the first time around.
He came to see me one evening, and we talked. It was painful. I thought I was hearing the same "I don't know what I want" comments from him that I had heard before. After that he somewhat disappeared again. I had another week of emotional hell. My mind was playing tricks on me. What did he want? Why wasn't he calling me? When was I going to see him again? What if he wanted to break up? What if he doesn't love me? What if it was all just a big cosmic joke on me? Again.
My 4-year old self was in sheer panic mode.
The idea to ask "what do I want" only came up by talking with my sister. This wasn't just about him. She asked me what did I need? What did I want? Well, what I wanted wasn't possible. And I knew it. I couldn't fix his issues, and I was only just starting to work on mine. We were both in the wrong spots at the wrong time. Dammit. So my options were to continue on in my misery or to break things off. In my heart of hearts I could grudgingly accept a break up - as long as I was the one who was calling things off. My little 4-year old self would be destroyed by being left again, but she was very familiar with the self-preservation tactic of getting out before you got left behind.
But I still didn't like that option. Somehow the hope that, magically, everything would be fine kept clanking around in my brain. Magical thinking. When, really, I knew what needed to happen.
He came over to visit. We chatted a while about what had been going on in our lives. It was awkward. We were talking, but not interacting. Finally I asked what was up with us, were we just friends now? He said that was all he could offer me and that he thought he had made that clear the last time we saw each other. I said no, that hadn't been clear.
Sigh. So there it was. We were broken up.
In the long run, we said we both want to leave the possibility open that we can revisit a romantic relationship together in the future. So it's open. It's a possibility. We're both still attracted to each other. We still care a lot for each other. Really, it's a very positive break up on the surface. No yelling, no recriminations, we talked about where we were each at and agreed that to continue on would be in no one's best interest.
But underneath my surface I'm still hurting. Every break up hurts. This one only more so because I saw what it could be. Maybe. In the future.
In the meantime I have to get back to myself. My lonely self. I need to fix my own issues. My ex's actions (his distancing himself, his issues with clear communication) are not the actions of my father. Full stop. They are similar, and thus they raise the spectre of my dad. But they are not the same. My dad was an adult, was supposedly my protector. But he failed at that task. My ex has actually succeeded in protecting me - by stopping our relationship now instead of later. But I'm still hurt. I still need to convince my 4-year old self that this wasn't her fault, that she is still lovable, she is still valuable, that she has always been those things.
I may not be a mom, but I know how hard it is to convince a 4-year old of something she doesn't quite believe.
End of the year. Time to emotionally clean house.
Monday, August 26, 2013
It's Time.
So it looks like I will be quitting my job soon. I had a chat with my mom, and we decided that the only way for me to really make a move into massage therapy was to take a leap into the future.
The problem is that my current work schedule doesn't allow for a second job. Or it doesn't allow for a transitional second job. Most massage places want LMTs to work during the week day, not in the evening only. This has been one of two of my biggest road blocks so far. The other being money. I'm tied to my cabinet job because it pays my bills. In order to walk away from that job (thus opening up my schedule so I can work LMT jobs), I would need some sort of cash influx. Savings, a winning lottery ticket, a sugar daddy, or the Bank of Mom. Seeing as the first three haven't materialized yet, it's going to be the BoM. (Or, the BoMB as Mom's last name starts with B!!)
Tomorrow I have an interview with a clinic close by where I would be one of two LMTs on staff (the other LMT being one of the co-owners). The other folks who work there are naturopaths and acupuncturists. I like their attitude (as expressed on their website), and love the area where they are located. I hope that I find what I'm looking for there.
If that interview goes well I will contact the owner of the place where I took Ashiatsu classes and set up an interview with her. We had talked about me going in for an interview, but as soon as I told her my time availability (or lack thereof), we decided that this might not be the best time for me to apply with her. I had explained the possibility of going to the BoMB, but hadn't actually had that discussion with the BoMB CFO yet. Now I have. So I will tell the Ashiatsu therapist that the BoMB has offered to help me through the transition, and that my schedule will be very open due to the support of BoMB.
Big cleansing sigh.
It's time. Time to really make the leap and move on.
I'm excited but nervous. My whole life I've believed on some level that I'm not necessarily worthy of having the things I really want. I'm supposed to be living on whatever comes my way, a decent but not overly impressive income. I'm to survive, but not necessarily thrive. And now I might actually have the opportunity to move towards thriving.
I hope I find my path there soon.
The problem is that my current work schedule doesn't allow for a second job. Or it doesn't allow for a transitional second job. Most massage places want LMTs to work during the week day, not in the evening only. This has been one of two of my biggest road blocks so far. The other being money. I'm tied to my cabinet job because it pays my bills. In order to walk away from that job (thus opening up my schedule so I can work LMT jobs), I would need some sort of cash influx. Savings, a winning lottery ticket, a sugar daddy, or the Bank of Mom. Seeing as the first three haven't materialized yet, it's going to be the BoM. (Or, the BoMB as Mom's last name starts with B!!)
Tomorrow I have an interview with a clinic close by where I would be one of two LMTs on staff (the other LMT being one of the co-owners). The other folks who work there are naturopaths and acupuncturists. I like their attitude (as expressed on their website), and love the area where they are located. I hope that I find what I'm looking for there.
If that interview goes well I will contact the owner of the place where I took Ashiatsu classes and set up an interview with her. We had talked about me going in for an interview, but as soon as I told her my time availability (or lack thereof), we decided that this might not be the best time for me to apply with her. I had explained the possibility of going to the BoMB, but hadn't actually had that discussion with the BoMB CFO yet. Now I have. So I will tell the Ashiatsu therapist that the BoMB has offered to help me through the transition, and that my schedule will be very open due to the support of BoMB.
Big cleansing sigh.
It's time. Time to really make the leap and move on.
I'm excited but nervous. My whole life I've believed on some level that I'm not necessarily worthy of having the things I really want. I'm supposed to be living on whatever comes my way, a decent but not overly impressive income. I'm to survive, but not necessarily thrive. And now I might actually have the opportunity to move towards thriving.
I hope I find my path there soon.
Monday, August 19, 2013
Wish List
What I would like:
To have a massage job (or two, or three) that supplants my current cabinet job. For those jobs to be reasonably close to where I live, and feed me emotionally with my massage work as well as cover my food bills. I want to work with people whom I am comfortable with. I want an environment that is more relaxing than stressful. I want good communication between coworkers as well as between workers and the Boss. To feel like I am actually helping my clients feel better, emotionally as well as physically.
To have enough money to not have to worry Every Single Month about paying my bills.
To have That Guy in my life.
To have Ashiatsu bars up in my massage room.
To have enough regular clients at my home business that I can legitimately feel like it's a business.
To have time and money to invest into making my back yard a comfortable place to visit.
To have friends who live close enough to call up on a whim and go see a movie, or go get a drink, or just hang out and shoot the shit.
To have local friends who like to sit around and shoot the shit with me.
To have friends who are capable of listening to me instead of focusing on themselves. (Granted, I'm a really good listener and don't always feel comfortable talking about myself, so this is definitely partly on me, not just on my friends.)
To have time to explore new places, to Get Things Done, to expand my horizons.
To have a massage job (or two, or three) that supplants my current cabinet job. For those jobs to be reasonably close to where I live, and feed me emotionally with my massage work as well as cover my food bills. I want to work with people whom I am comfortable with. I want an environment that is more relaxing than stressful. I want good communication between coworkers as well as between workers and the Boss. To feel like I am actually helping my clients feel better, emotionally as well as physically.
To have enough money to not have to worry Every Single Month about paying my bills.
To have That Guy in my life.
To have Ashiatsu bars up in my massage room.
To have enough regular clients at my home business that I can legitimately feel like it's a business.
To have time and money to invest into making my back yard a comfortable place to visit.
To have friends who live close enough to call up on a whim and go see a movie, or go get a drink, or just hang out and shoot the shit.
To have local friends who like to sit around and shoot the shit with me.
To have friends who are capable of listening to me instead of focusing on themselves. (Granted, I'm a really good listener and don't always feel comfortable talking about myself, so this is definitely partly on me, not just on my friends.)
To have time to explore new places, to Get Things Done, to expand my horizons.
Cinderella
I like being alone. Not always, but often enough. but I'd like to have a man in my life.
Well, I do have a man. But he isn't completely available. So what we have is a nice flirtation. I love having that time with him, but really I'd like to have him in my life more often. But he isn't completely available.
So.
So I've been buying dresses lately. Going out to events. Hoping that someone, somewhere will see me and be so overwhelmed by my beauty, by my presence, that he'll come after me.
Hahahahahahaha! Oh, right. That only happens in fairy tales. And if this life I'm living is a fairy tale, I'm currently in the "before" phase.
But enough of bitter sarcasm.
Nope, that's all I've got right now.
Well, I do have a man. But he isn't completely available. So what we have is a nice flirtation. I love having that time with him, but really I'd like to have him in my life more often. But he isn't completely available.
So.
So I've been buying dresses lately. Going out to events. Hoping that someone, somewhere will see me and be so overwhelmed by my beauty, by my presence, that he'll come after me.
Hahahahahahaha! Oh, right. That only happens in fairy tales. And if this life I'm living is a fairy tale, I'm currently in the "before" phase.
But enough of bitter sarcasm.
Nope, that's all I've got right now.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
all men, all older than me
I've worked for M now for the past seven years (that one year in Mexico notwithstanding). And I've always been the sole female on staff. Not that that issue has ever been problematic for me. But there is a small part of my brain that takes note.
I have been very fortunate to have avoided most sexism in the job site. But it is there. M will go to the male on staff to get feedback on how to deal with a particular issue rather than coming to me. Other trades on job sites will turn to the male on staff to get questions answered even though I am the lead on that particular job. I even had a full forehead-to-toe-to-forehead visual sweep once when I was delivering cabinets to a job site, with the question "you're a cabinetmaker?", tossed at me. But in general it's been pretty low-key, the sexism.
This past week and a half I've been the lead on a job install. I was the main person building the job in the shop, and now I'm the senior person on the job site for cabinetry. And everyone around me has respected that. They come to me with questions, with quality control, with need for feedback on any particular situation.
And they are all men, all older than me, all with many more years in the trades than me.
Odd.
I've never dealt with this level of respect before.
And I like it.
The reality is that I am the one with the most knowledge about the cabinets. I built the cabinets, I made the face frames, the doors, the drawer faces, I put the whole thing together in the shop. They have been hired as contractors to help me install. Or they are the General Contractor, who knows a lot about running the job site, but not so much about the cabinetry we are putting in. And they respect me, and my position. They know I know everything about the cabinets, they know that I am the one who has the authority to make decisions, the one who will make decisions and take the heat if the decision is wrong.
And they have no issue with that. They don't even notice (in that way) that I am female.
I am the senior person on staff when it comes to cabinets. And it is so refreshing to have that level of respect paid to me.
I think I've always known how skilled I am, but have never really admitted it to myself. Nor have I had that respect reflected back to me from my previous co-workers, nor from my boss.
I. Know. My. Shit. And this time I am getting that reflected back to me.
So I am reveling in it. Not lording it over anyone, just giving myself the credit I rarely give myself.
Nice.
I have been very fortunate to have avoided most sexism in the job site. But it is there. M will go to the male on staff to get feedback on how to deal with a particular issue rather than coming to me. Other trades on job sites will turn to the male on staff to get questions answered even though I am the lead on that particular job. I even had a full forehead-to-toe-to-forehead visual sweep once when I was delivering cabinets to a job site, with the question "you're a cabinetmaker?", tossed at me. But in general it's been pretty low-key, the sexism.
This past week and a half I've been the lead on a job install. I was the main person building the job in the shop, and now I'm the senior person on the job site for cabinetry. And everyone around me has respected that. They come to me with questions, with quality control, with need for feedback on any particular situation.
And they are all men, all older than me, all with many more years in the trades than me.
Odd.
I've never dealt with this level of respect before.
And I like it.
The reality is that I am the one with the most knowledge about the cabinets. I built the cabinets, I made the face frames, the doors, the drawer faces, I put the whole thing together in the shop. They have been hired as contractors to help me install. Or they are the General Contractor, who knows a lot about running the job site, but not so much about the cabinetry we are putting in. And they respect me, and my position. They know I know everything about the cabinets, they know that I am the one who has the authority to make decisions, the one who will make decisions and take the heat if the decision is wrong.
And they have no issue with that. They don't even notice (in that way) that I am female.
I am the senior person on staff when it comes to cabinets. And it is so refreshing to have that level of respect paid to me.
I think I've always known how skilled I am, but have never really admitted it to myself. Nor have I had that respect reflected back to me from my previous co-workers, nor from my boss.
I. Know. My. Shit. And this time I am getting that reflected back to me.
So I am reveling in it. Not lording it over anyone, just giving myself the credit I rarely give myself.
Nice.
Good Love/Bad Love
I recently made a playlist for a friend who was going through the wringer of Love. Here it is:
Bad Love
A New Shade of Blue - The Bobby Fuller Four
Try To Quit You Baby - Buddy Guy
All Cried Out - Dusty Springfield
Just How Lonely - Southern Culture on the Skids
Tainted Love - Social Distortion
Funhouse - Pink
What Did Love Ever Do To You - Hank Williams III
Turn On Your Love Light - Bobby Blue Band
Divorce Song - Liz Phair
Heart of Glass - Blondie
You Are Never Nice to Me - BR5-49
Bye Bye Baby - Detroit Cobras
Break My Heart - Judybats
The Bed’s Too Big Without You - The Police
Mean Man - Detroit Cobras
She’s Going - The English Beat
Piece of My Heart - Janis Joplin
Bulletproof - La Roux
Good Love
Love Rollercoaster - Ohio Players
You R Loved - Victoria Williams
I Love You - Asie Payton
Crazy Little Thing Called Love - Queen
He Sends Me - Nellie Lutcher
Make a Little Love - Alex Chilton
Love is the Drug - Roxy Music
Son of a Preacher Man - Dusty Springfield
When a Man Loves a Woman - Marvin Gaye
And Be Loved - Damian Marley
Lovelight - Robbie Williams
Love-a-rama - Southern Culture on the Skids
Chuck E’s in Love - Rickie Lee Jones
Someone’s Daughter - Beth Orton
Thing Called Love - Bonnie Raitt
You Give Me Fever - Buddy Guy
Crazy Feelin’ - Roy Hamilton
It Must Be Love - Madness
Bad Love
A New Shade of Blue - The Bobby Fuller Four
Try To Quit You Baby - Buddy Guy
All Cried Out - Dusty Springfield
Just How Lonely - Southern Culture on the Skids
Tainted Love - Social Distortion
Funhouse - Pink
What Did Love Ever Do To You - Hank Williams III
Turn On Your Love Light - Bobby Blue Band
Divorce Song - Liz Phair
Heart of Glass - Blondie
You Are Never Nice to Me - BR5-49
Bye Bye Baby - Detroit Cobras
Break My Heart - Judybats
The Bed’s Too Big Without You - The Police
Mean Man - Detroit Cobras
She’s Going - The English Beat
Piece of My Heart - Janis Joplin
Bulletproof - La Roux
Good Love
Love Rollercoaster - Ohio Players
You R Loved - Victoria Williams
I Love You - Asie Payton
Crazy Little Thing Called Love - Queen
He Sends Me - Nellie Lutcher
Make a Little Love - Alex Chilton
Love is the Drug - Roxy Music
Son of a Preacher Man - Dusty Springfield
When a Man Loves a Woman - Marvin Gaye
And Be Loved - Damian Marley
Lovelight - Robbie Williams
Love-a-rama - Southern Culture on the Skids
Chuck E’s in Love - Rickie Lee Jones
Someone’s Daughter - Beth Orton
Thing Called Love - Bonnie Raitt
You Give Me Fever - Buddy Guy
Crazy Feelin’ - Roy Hamilton
It Must Be Love - Madness
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