So I went to a meetup with my old friend and his new girlfriend, and towards the end, he texts me. I was really ready to leave anyway, so I'm thinking, maybe chance for some fun, and I cut out of there. Offer to come over. He says, too much of a mess, what about tomorrow? I say, busy tomorrow until late afternoon/early evening. After some other interplay, turns out that he has a buddy coming over and can't do tomorrow (then why the hell ask?). Then he says, wish he'd known that I was going to be in Rochester. And then we proceed to have pretty boring text conversation, none of which includes that parts that I'm really interested, like I would really like physical contact with an attractive man, and I don't care so much about the rest.
And so I feel less rejected but far more annoyed. What the hell does this guy want? I don't see how many more positive signs I could give him short of telling him to come here and fuck me. Which I suppose I'd be willing to do if it got me what I wanted. But mostly I just feel annoyed and bored. I feel like I've invited him to do things again and again with not much response. I can't work it out. I'm not sure that I even want to. Now that I feel a lot less pissed off and hurt (kind of magically so), I pretty much just want to get back to where I was. Working out. Being motivated to do things. Not being all tied up in this silliness. Maybe I can stay that way?
At any rate, for the moment, I feel like I have my balance back.
Saturday, June 30, 2012
The box
When Michael was alive, when things were worst, I used to imagine this different reality, this world where I had this person who loved me in the way that wanted, who made me a cup of tea and ran his fingers through my hair, who caught me up in his arms and laughed, where everything was joyful.
After Michael died, I let go of that. I put that aside. I said to myself, that dream is not for you, certainly not now. It's not time to look for that partner; it's time to get healthy again. And I was all right with that. It felt peaceful. It was easiest to think about things that way, putting it away, putting it on hold, focusing on me.
These last two weeks destroyed all that. Absolutely shattered it, and I can't figure out how to get back there. I sit here, and I'm not unhappy, not really. Things to do, the weather is ok, I feel all right... but my heart is aching, and it's because once again, I can see that utterly different reality, where I'm sitting here waiting for him to drop by, anticipating. And he comes in, and wraps his arms around me, and we can't keep our hands off each other, but we do, because there are other things to do... and so on, until at the end of the day we're in bed, wrapped around each other, waking up together, making breakfast... and then he goes home, because we both need down time, alone time, but this time will happen again, and soon.
I need to put this idea back away, back in the box that goes under the bed, prettily wrapped up for another day, a year from now maybe, when my life is back together. But I don't want to put it away. I want him to call, or I want something to work with someone else; I want that happiness, even though I know with every bone in my body that this is not the time, that I cannot, cannot deal with this.
It has to go away. I have to take that dream, and put it in a box, a shiny green box. Then I need to wrap it in pink flowered paper, and tie curly ribbon around it, curl the end. Maybe the holographic ribbon that I got for the kids. And then a big bow, and some silk flowers. So I'll know that it's there, know that it's beautiful, and know that I don't have to look at it right away.
After Michael died, I let go of that. I put that aside. I said to myself, that dream is not for you, certainly not now. It's not time to look for that partner; it's time to get healthy again. And I was all right with that. It felt peaceful. It was easiest to think about things that way, putting it away, putting it on hold, focusing on me.
These last two weeks destroyed all that. Absolutely shattered it, and I can't figure out how to get back there. I sit here, and I'm not unhappy, not really. Things to do, the weather is ok, I feel all right... but my heart is aching, and it's because once again, I can see that utterly different reality, where I'm sitting here waiting for him to drop by, anticipating. And he comes in, and wraps his arms around me, and we can't keep our hands off each other, but we do, because there are other things to do... and so on, until at the end of the day we're in bed, wrapped around each other, waking up together, making breakfast... and then he goes home, because we both need down time, alone time, but this time will happen again, and soon.
I need to put this idea back away, back in the box that goes under the bed, prettily wrapped up for another day, a year from now maybe, when my life is back together. But I don't want to put it away. I want him to call, or I want something to work with someone else; I want that happiness, even though I know with every bone in my body that this is not the time, that I cannot, cannot deal with this.
It has to go away. I have to take that dream, and put it in a box, a shiny green box. Then I need to wrap it in pink flowered paper, and tie curly ribbon around it, curl the end. Maybe the holographic ribbon that I got for the kids. And then a big bow, and some silk flowers. So I'll know that it's there, know that it's beautiful, and know that I don't have to look at it right away.
Friday, June 29, 2012
Serendipity
I am so angry with myself, that I could be so foolish after so much time. Not that I chose to see someone, fell for the line, if that's what it was, but that I just know that if there were only a message, I'd be all happy again. And there we go, hopping down the bunny trail. But at the end of the trail is the same old story, valuing myself so little that I settle for whatever I can have.
I don't regret the loss of this particular man, since, after all, without running him down, most of what he had going for him was availability and chemistry. But, oh, I do regret that dizzying happiness that you get from those first moments with someone that fits. It's been so long... it's been since John, and that was a lifetime ago. I had forgotten how good it feels, and it's hard not to be hunting for that, thinking, where could I find that again now? Right now?
I am angry, too, that I believed in the moment of serendipity, that this happy coincidence of events could have given me both a new carpet and a friend with benefits. Two things that I thought were a long way off. It seems like a ludicrous thing to say, but it was like that for a moment, all those nights lying in bed with Michael, eying that stain on the ceiling, wondering if there was still a water leak... the surprising coincidence of the raining ceiling, just after the room had been fixed... the carpet that I so wanted to replace, because I couldn't bear the memory of the times that I tried to clean it... the mattress for my son, and the stunning surprise of a man who seemed to be flirting with me from moment one, but not in a creepy way. It seemed like a gift of happiness, like... yeah, like someone watching out for me, and for one second I believed in that ghost.
And now... it's like taunting a kid with candy. It's like the things that my mother used to say... "I thought about taking you to this, but I didn't." Worse than if you'd never believed that there was a possibility. I know that I'll get back there, but right now, I'd give a lot for none of this to have happened at all. To be back to the flashes of contentment that came from getting my life organized, from things being simple, from things being all right. Nothing shiny, but nothing awful, either.
This will fade. I won't care about it soon, and my therapist is right in that what I probably need is more candy, not less... that with a few more stabs at this, it will seem like just another thing. But it's not so easy to find these things. Not when you're trying to value yourself at the same time.
I know I wrote this before, but it's just that I thought for a second that I was going to get to be happy for a while. I am so angry. I am so resentful. I feel like I've put in my time, and that it's my turn. Isn't it?
I don't regret the loss of this particular man, since, after all, without running him down, most of what he had going for him was availability and chemistry. But, oh, I do regret that dizzying happiness that you get from those first moments with someone that fits. It's been so long... it's been since John, and that was a lifetime ago. I had forgotten how good it feels, and it's hard not to be hunting for that, thinking, where could I find that again now? Right now?
I am angry, too, that I believed in the moment of serendipity, that this happy coincidence of events could have given me both a new carpet and a friend with benefits. Two things that I thought were a long way off. It seems like a ludicrous thing to say, but it was like that for a moment, all those nights lying in bed with Michael, eying that stain on the ceiling, wondering if there was still a water leak... the surprising coincidence of the raining ceiling, just after the room had been fixed... the carpet that I so wanted to replace, because I couldn't bear the memory of the times that I tried to clean it... the mattress for my son, and the stunning surprise of a man who seemed to be flirting with me from moment one, but not in a creepy way. It seemed like a gift of happiness, like... yeah, like someone watching out for me, and for one second I believed in that ghost.
And now... it's like taunting a kid with candy. It's like the things that my mother used to say... "I thought about taking you to this, but I didn't." Worse than if you'd never believed that there was a possibility. I know that I'll get back there, but right now, I'd give a lot for none of this to have happened at all. To be back to the flashes of contentment that came from getting my life organized, from things being simple, from things being all right. Nothing shiny, but nothing awful, either.
This will fade. I won't care about it soon, and my therapist is right in that what I probably need is more candy, not less... that with a few more stabs at this, it will seem like just another thing. But it's not so easy to find these things. Not when you're trying to value yourself at the same time.
I know I wrote this before, but it's just that I thought for a second that I was going to get to be happy for a while. I am so angry. I am so resentful. I feel like I've put in my time, and that it's my turn. Isn't it?
Thursday, June 28, 2012
Not ready yet, I think....
So I think that I've demonstrated to myself that I'm really not emotionally able to deal appropriately with the menfolks yet.
After Michael died, I promised myself that I would not even think about a relationship for a full year. And then coincidence happened... the water leak, and the guy who came with it, and the sheer novelty of someone being interested. It made me really happy in that infatuated kind of way that is the best part of new things, where you feel a little giddy and a little silly and so on. It was so great to feel that way after so very long, and to feel really attracted to someone. So very many years since that's really been the case.
So he came here, and we drank wine, andI' the results were pretty inevitable, honestly. No regrets there. And I felt, again, so stupidly happy. Dazed with happy. We had the "I am not interested in anything serious" conversation. I'm really not, not at all, and this person seems unlikely to be the person who would be the next serious person (if there is one). When he got home, he texted me, and we talked about movies and music, and it all seemed nice.
But that was Sunday. And I stayed dazed and happy through Wednesday afternoon... and then it suddenly occurred to me that I hadn't heard from him. So I texted him, after some debate, and he was busy but nice... but I thought that he'd text me tonight. We have nothing planned for the weekend. And all day I've felt nauseated and anxious. It's nearly 8:30 now, and my expectation is that I won't hear from him. I am fretting and unhappy and going over everything that he said in my head.
I know that I'm being absurd. This is about someone I don't even care about, who I'm just very physically attracted to. Someone who is in no way a match for me. Someone who basically I just want to spend a little more time playing around with.
It's his turn. I'm writing this off for the moment. I have dinner with Jack on Saturday... something I almost didn't even accept because I was fretting about this. Whatever way this all turns out, it's clearly not worth the agitation and the unhappy bits. It's too much like the bad parts of being a teen again. I think it's time for me to be focusing more on going to the gym and less on other kinds of sport, because I've demonstrated to myself with crystal clarity that I can't handle it.
I am mad at myself for letting this bother me so much. I think it's just that the happy felt so damn good for a little while, and I resent like hell that it seems to be gone.
After Michael died, I promised myself that I would not even think about a relationship for a full year. And then coincidence happened... the water leak, and the guy who came with it, and the sheer novelty of someone being interested. It made me really happy in that infatuated kind of way that is the best part of new things, where you feel a little giddy and a little silly and so on. It was so great to feel that way after so very long, and to feel really attracted to someone. So very many years since that's really been the case.
So he came here, and we drank wine, andI' the results were pretty inevitable, honestly. No regrets there. And I felt, again, so stupidly happy. Dazed with happy. We had the "I am not interested in anything serious" conversation. I'm really not, not at all, and this person seems unlikely to be the person who would be the next serious person (if there is one). When he got home, he texted me, and we talked about movies and music, and it all seemed nice.
But that was Sunday. And I stayed dazed and happy through Wednesday afternoon... and then it suddenly occurred to me that I hadn't heard from him. So I texted him, after some debate, and he was busy but nice... but I thought that he'd text me tonight. We have nothing planned for the weekend. And all day I've felt nauseated and anxious. It's nearly 8:30 now, and my expectation is that I won't hear from him. I am fretting and unhappy and going over everything that he said in my head.
I know that I'm being absurd. This is about someone I don't even care about, who I'm just very physically attracted to. Someone who is in no way a match for me. Someone who basically I just want to spend a little more time playing around with.
It's his turn. I'm writing this off for the moment. I have dinner with Jack on Saturday... something I almost didn't even accept because I was fretting about this. Whatever way this all turns out, it's clearly not worth the agitation and the unhappy bits. It's too much like the bad parts of being a teen again. I think it's time for me to be focusing more on going to the gym and less on other kinds of sport, because I've demonstrated to myself with crystal clarity that I can't handle it.
I am mad at myself for letting this bother me so much. I think it's just that the happy felt so damn good for a little while, and I resent like hell that it seems to be gone.
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