|
I wonder when I'll stop thinking of him and hope every time I touch or see the brown flip flops I bought for the Florida trip so that I could have red lipstick, a yellow bathing suit, and brown flip flops. as you know the Mexican blanket I brought still has sand from clearwater beach. I still cry when I lift it up and see it.
whatever. I've got to get used to not having what I want even though it doesn't make sense to me. I keep thinking he should have liked me. he should have seen it would be really fun.
I thought I'd get to be so dreamy and numb today, and I turned my phone off and exhaled and went downtown to mail terry's card and get the fuck away from the house - the stifling hell of knowing ...
and the Aldi's bra I bought yesterday was and is fabulous. but I think my boobs have grown from menopause looming. or at least that's what I say. I was hoping I'd be in some "I've over him!" revelation, but it's not like that. I'm just getting used to trying to be over him instead of trying to flay all parts of me open looking for who the traitor was.
and I can be cool.
I can be secure.
as I always say, I did not want to spend 24/7 schmoopie with this bloke. I wanted to stop shooting the shit and passing the time. I'm all for hosting and going out to eat and drinking and doing stuff, but in the beginning, he had mentioned swinging golf clubs "hey, I've got some clubs, we could just drink some beer and go to a range." and camping and traveling to lynching museums and Thursday visits. and then later, it was just Saturday night dinner and sex always in my realm - never in his. and I'm not even sure why I wanted to write today - maybe just to prove I still could. I've not great story or some great memory.
I think I was the first person he let drive his car, and then I didn't brake well enough and he regretted the stress of trusting someone. I understood.
and I wanted so much, but all I wanted was 'this is cool. I like you." or a look or a caress or a kiss or a.... and I got so much. who drives two hours each way. but it was never assumed - always a maybe - every weekend. and that kind of wore on me.
I loved that his dad was a vegetarian. I loved that he was the child of artists. I still picture him today - maybe he got laid, probably not - and he did the crossword after getting his leftover fridge coffee in the clear glass with the perfect amount of 2% milk then sitting on the couch surfing the inter webs. and I remember the last day he came to see me - he tossed me some instagram posts and I was like 'this is different' and he said he was so tired and hungover and god I wish I had just said "don't come then." but would that really have been the magic sequence and then I would have had the bravery to soberly say, 'look, I feel like you are pulling away and looking for other opportunties - when I said I was a placeholder, you just let me flail. I wouldn't have done that to you. I don't enjoy feeling stupid for liking you. I don't care that you don't love me, and I love you - but I want to know if you think there's a chance - and if you do - could you wait to look for my replacement after we're done?"
again and again I re-write it. it doesn't matter.
he once met Harrison ford because he was cheating with someone. he loves to keep it light. fucking so do i. but I want to have grappled with love first - I want to have actually made love with someone instead of getting someone I love off because it's so natural to want to touch them and please them and have me be the cause of it...and you think it's going to be vice versa.
and he would have been to the farmers market and walked in the woods and gone to the gym and waited for the hi-lo time or with his sons and tomorrow would be a cheeseburger and it would feel like mom's kitchen so to speak.
and godammit to all fucking hells
she wanted in.
and it was ok. she could still destroy herself, make poor decisions, tread water, not do so great, but at least she was
back in love with herself. and had made peace with the little girl who screamed and the other little girl who muzzled and the other little girl who ate and the other little girl who numbed and the other little girl who hid and the other little girl who ate dirt... you get the picture.
|
