Oct 022014

Tonight, I will finish off the last of the vodka from the last bottle J brought with him the last time he was here. It wasn’t the last time I saw him, but it was the last time he was here. It was the last time we were us.

If you repeat the word “last” over and over again, it starts to lose its meaning. At some point, it stops sounding like a word at all, and instead, it sounds a lot like nonsense.

J and I had a lot of lasts. We had too many lasts.

I said goodbye too many times — in practice and in my heart. Each and every time I hated it, not because it was inevitable, but because I couldn’t manage to do it right. I wanted to be profound, or sweet, or wise, or strong… but I wasn’t.

I wasn’t any of those things. I had too many opportunities, but I couldn’t manage to be any of those things… over and over again.

J is gone.

He’s been gone for some time. He left more than a month ago. I haven’t said as much directly, not because I can’t say it or because I don’t want to say it, but because I’m not sure what to say after I’ve said it.

J is gone.

I said it.

And now I don’t know what to say.

I don’t know what I should drink to when I finish off the last of the vodka from the last of the bottles J brought with him the last time he was here… the last time we were us.

Cheers… to sharing the bottle alone.

Cheers… to love and loss and all of the beautiful ugly in-betweens.


  21 Responses to “the last of the vodka (J is gone)”

  1. Oh, wow. I can’t imagine what you’re going through and I’m not sure what to say either. I generally lurk but… You have my sympathy for the situation, my empathy for how you’re feeling, and my praise for how you’ve handled this whole thing (which, at least from what we were able to read, is better than some people would have).

    Simply put? I feel for you.

  2. So sorry to hear. About the pain you’re going through, not diminished by how long the breakup has been coming.

    I hope you stay with us.

  3. Cheers !……..to putting it all behind you ….. and buying your own vodka brand from now on.

  4. This may make it worse to ask, but have you spoken since he’s left? I didn’t know if you continued to speak or not.

  5. Sorry for your loss. I have no words that will make it any easier. I simply hope that the best wishes and sympathy of your followers will help, just a little.

  6. As always, love your honesty in not being perfect in the moment, but as ever eloquent. You’re right, say it enough, and it sounds like nonsense. Hurts just the same, and I’m sorry for your pain.

  7. Sorry for your loss. Tough to deal with. Hang in there, things will feel better eventually.


  8. I’m truly sorry for your loss. The only thing I can say from my own experience – it gets less painful over time. It will become bearable. But maybe, there will be a J-shaped hole in your heart for a long time. Just hope for you that it doesn’t hurt too long.

  9. I wish I could say something to make it hurt less, but I know I can’t.

    So have some virtual hugs. *hugs*

  10. It’s only a thing. It’s only a solution of water, ethanol, and traces of other compounds that provide its distinct aroma and flavor, inside a glass bottle. It isn’t fundamentally different than any other mostly empty bottle of vodka. At the same time, though, it *is* different. It’s different because of its personal historical significance, and because it’s a symbol. There is no physical end to a relationship. But there it is, sitting on a shelf, or in a cabinet, or wherever it is. But there are a lot worse ways to for a relationship to end with a bottle of vodka.

    I don’t expect you need to be told this, but take care of yourself.

  11. Cheers, and *HUGS*. I really wish I had the right words to say that would make it better… or at least easier, but I don’t. I can only just wish for only the best things for you and hope that such a wonder would happen in your life again.

  12. You’re allowing the understandable hurt, doubt, sense of loss and the inevitably associated grief (this can’t be helped btw) to cloud your judgement.

    When the last of the Vodka is gone, you *must* drink Gin.

    I hope this helps.

    All the best.

  13. Big, fat, vodka hugs to you, friend. Like, massive. xx Hy

  14. Dumb Domme,

    I feel so bad for you my eyes are watering. I only recently found your blog, and you’ve made me laugh many times. Try listening to “If I ever leave this world alive” by Flogging Molly. It helped cheer me up when my best friend dies unexpectedly last year.


    P.S. Here’s a link to a youtube video of the song:

    • Eight days ago I said that I wept for your loss. Yesterday the relationship I was having with an online Mistress ended. Today, through flowing tears, I think I have an even better understanding of your loss. It’s 7:00 in the morning, and I’m wishing they made orange juice flavored margarita mix, because “Tequila… It’s not just for breakfast anymore.”


      • Oh, Madden. :( I’m so sorry to hear it.

        Also, liquor doesn’t require “morning flavors” to be suitable for breakfast consumption. Cheers, mate — here’s to the happy outweighing the sad.

        • Thanks. I didn’t get drunk, seemed a shame to drink a bunch of empty calories when thanks to Mistress’s encouragement (fear and arousal are powerful motivators) I’ve been able to lose 18 pounds this year.

          I walked a mile instead. While walking I had a funny thought: This is the second relationship that has ended on me in the last 6 months. The first was with a Mistress that was way too into Financial Domination for me. That lesson cost me $800. Miss N was into “being productive” and had me join Amazon’s Mturk program to earn money for the “toys” she thought I needed. I was really productive and still have $200 in my account.

          At least I’m moving in the right direction


  15. All that’s said above and more, with hugs.

  16. Hugs! I wish there was something I could say that would make this suck less.

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