Tuesday, November 1, 2011
MT got a text from his buddy who had agreed to help us move in on Saturday. "So you just about picked the worst day ever to move. I'm on my way."
And he was right. Saturday was not the ideal day to move as it was the first snow "storm" of the late fall and early winter months. From pouring rain to what I'd call pouring sleet, with a little bit of actual wet snow mixed in, it was wet, it was chilly and it should have been entirely unpleasant.
But it wasn't. Moving is hard. Some pieces are harder to move then others. Awkward to carry. Heavy. Can't get out of the apartment, down the hall, into the elevator, fit into the Uhaul and then into the new apartment front door and through the hall and to its new rightful spot within the layout. But despite the normal setbacks and difficulties, this move went as smooth as it could possibly go.
Just me, my MT and two of our guy buddies, the four of us packed up MT's place, and then my place and then moved us all in jam packed into our new place. Phew.
MT still has way too much stuff. VHS tapes of The Houseguest and Dumb and Dumber when neither of us has a VCR. Electrical cords to long gone devices. Shirts he's never worn. Books he'll never read. Things he'll never use. And there will come a time that he will need to purge.
But that day wasn't Saturday. Or Sunday. Or today.
We are just happy happy happy. We sit on his coach (now our couch!) in our apartment. Looking at the granite counter tops on the kitchen across the rooms. Staring at the people coming and going on our charming tree lined city street. We look at each other and think how lucky lucky lucky we are to be young, in love and in this adorable home, right in the thick of Adams Morgan.
We'll figure out how to organize the closets - soon. But for now, we just can't believe we live together. And can't believe how right it all feels.
Friday, October 28, 2011
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Monday, October 3, 2011
Oh my dear readers,
How I abandoned you. And how I am sorry. I kept putting writing off about the Math Teacher because sooooo much was happening and sooo much was happening so fast. The trip to New York City. The shared athletic team meet-ups. Trivia and karaoke nights. Bbqs and camping trips.
He met my parents. I met his siblings.
And then he said I love you one morning. "I love you," he said first thing when I woke up and looked at him. "What?" I said in utter shock and disbelief. "I love you," he said back at me. And I like a complete flabbergasted idiot said: "Well, that's a nice thing to say." Gaaaah! I later apologized and said that I was just surprised. "No one was more surprised than me," he told me back.
And then I said I loved him back.
And then I started staying at his place twice a week instead of one and then 3x a week. Then 5. Then I hadn't been home in 9 days and now....
We are moving in together!
I wish I could have articulated ever kiss. Every wink. Every heartfelt confession. Or described how someone becomes your best friend when you aren't watching. Your confidante. Your rock. But maybe I was too busy being happy to write. Or life was too busy being lived to stop and observe it.
Whatever the case, instead of trying to relive the past, I will try to find you again by contemplating the future. Maybe some of you are still out there to read me, maybe not. But I'll try to re-emerge and find the words, for all those things for which there seem to be no words.
I've missed you all and Cheers,
Thursday, July 28, 2011
"Math is a lot like love - a simple idea, but it can get complicated..."
Once you decide to give someone a chance, to let someone in, to be vulnerable....and more importantly not to put pressure on something...that it be this or that or mean this or that or that he be the...sometimes things just fall into place quietly, softly, subtly...without your even knowing.
I don't think I realized how much I liked the Math Teacher. I refused to call him by his real name. I referred to him as simply "The Math Teacher" or "MT" to even my closest friends. "You don't name the puppy," I would often say (a lesson I learned from an oft lovesick girl friend). "You don't name the puppy....otherwise you'll feel like it belongs to you. It is someone. It means something to you. And then you'll want to take it home with you."
Even though I had committed to giving him an honest to goodness shot at really dating, I really didn't let myself think I liked him all that much. But I must have liked him enough...
When it came time to visit New York City for a friend's birthday, I couldn't help but invite him along. "Taking a trip together eh?" one friend asked. "That's kind of serious this soon isn't it?" "Not really," I replied nonchalantly and shrugged. "He's just....he's just....good company." And I meant that. I did. He really was....good. company.
But what did that mean? That I thought he was good company. That he was good company, for me. That I wanted him to come with me. That I somehow knew I wouldn't have as good a time without him.
And so we went to NYC. We met at the Chinatown Bus pickup point on H street near Gallery Place Chinatown metro. He had a small bag of luggage and so did I. In a way it was strange that we were going on a trip together. And in another way, it wasn't strange at all. It just made sense. He was good company and therefore we were travel companions.
I wish I knew how to explain the feeling of what happened next. But its hard. The ease. The comfort. The laughter. The perfect contentment. It was the shortest 5 hour bus ride of my life. After getting on we commenced our talk, talk, talking. Because you see, with us, there is never a shortage of conversation. The topics flow and stop and start and intertwine. No subject matter ever really finds completion. No inside joke ever loses its original wit. I told him I was an avid scrabble player and that I'd recently become obsessed with playing Words With Friends on my phone versus friends in real life and virtual friends whom Id never met. He was intrigued.
He doesn't have an iPhone so it took some time to figure out how to download WWF onto his phone. And then it also took some maneuvering to figure out how to challenge each other to play. You see, we weren't even facebook friends. I don't know why. He thought this was funny and thought we should remain facebook strangers. So instead we gave him a twitter account. (he didn't have a twitter account!!!) and he found me and was able to challenge me that way.
We played WWF for hours. Trash talking. Concentrating. In silence. And then not. At first I kicked his ass. But slowly, word by word, game by game, it became apparent that The Math Teacher, might not just have a nack for numbers. He had some background in Latin. He had an extensive vocabulary. The mathematics training helped him see patterns in the letters. It was almost ironic how he, the MT began to demolish me beyond all humility, beyond all reason. It made me angry. It made me intrigued. It made me turned on. There was more to this guy than I realized.
When our phones died we created our own version of taboo mixed with charades and made funny faces and gave hysterical word clues and laughed and laughed and laughed. We arrived to the City as if we'd only been commuting from just outside. It was - the easiest, most pleasurable bus ride of my life.
What could that mean? Or did it mean anything? It couldn't not.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
"Math is a lot like love - a simple idea, but it can get complicated..."
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
I got off work at 4pm. Pretty much unheard of at my office. But I didn't care. This was more important somehow.
I met him at the metro a few blocks from my office. And he looked goooood. There's one thing about this guy that can't be denied - he is an attractive man. Tall and lean. Tan. Longish, roughed up hair. He even has nice fingernails and feet. It's a little intimidating.
He was quieter than usual. I'm sure I confused him. I'm sure I had hurt him. I'm sure he didn't know quite what to make of me. But neither did I you know? I was a mess. A tired, stressed, overworked, overcaffeinated, recently dumped mess. I didn't know anything. Least of all anything useful about who I was at any given moment or what I wanted.
We road the train to Clarendon to meet our friends. I was nervous and talked too much. He smiled and laughed appropriately but wasn't as giving of himself as usual.
We got to the Chinese restaurant before our friends. We took two stools along the bar and ordered beers. Despite the slight awkwardness, (being the elephant in the room that was my repeated cancellation of our dates), the one thing that had always been there between us (an ability to talk about anything), once again saved the day and before long we were chit chatting like old friends again.
Then our friends came along. One by one, and three at a time and then a half a dozen at once. We sat apart from one another and caught up with our friends on our own and in our own time. But there were glances. From our friends at us. And from us at each other.
Before two long, MT got up. He started saying goodbye to people. I wasn't sure exactly why he was leaving. He came over to me last.
"I have to go," he said. "Oh really?" I said the disappointment apparent in my voice. I did mean it. I really did. I didn't want him to go. "Yeah, I have a friend's barbecue thing. I'm trying to set up my buddy with an old college friend." "Oh," I said, still disappointed. "Will you come back?" I asked hopefully. "I'm not sure," he said and I could see and tell that he was hurt and confused by my recent behavior and that being around me might not be as fun as it should be if we were dating on mutually, respectful ground.
"I'm really sorry you know?" I said out of nowhere. "Are you?" he asked almost bitterly. "Yes. yes I am," I said sincerely. "I feel like shit." "Do you?" he asked, again still sounding unconvinced. "Yes, I really do feel like shit. I wanted to go to dinner with you last night. I really did. I just couldn't. I'm sorry." "Listen," he said, a little kinder - "maybe from now on if you want to do something with me, you should call me."
Ouch. That one hurt a little.
"But you don't want to. Do you?" he continued. "Of course I do," I said. He shook his head slightly. "I gotta go," he said finally. "Try to come back," I said. "We'll see," he said and gathered his friend and said a last farewell to the group. He walk out the front door and I watched him walk away from the restaurant and then around the corner through the restaurant's glass windows until he was out of sight.
And I felt regret in my stomach. Had I blown it? Had I thrown away this great guy who treated me amazing because I was a complete brat? Because of Fuckface David? Because I didn't know how to love the right guy? Because I didn't let the right guys love me? I wasn't sure. I did know that I felt awful.
Everyone at the table knew something was wrong.
My friend Mike who can be a bit crass said: "What are you so upset about for? Isn't he supposed to be the rebound guy?"
"He was," I said and then paused. "But he just won't bound. He just stays."
"I'd love it if some girl wanted to use me as the rebound guy. I tell her - 'no problem, just let me know when you're done with me and I'll be on my way'."
"Wow, that's great Mike. Very helpful."
But I actually like him. I think. But I've blown him off and treated him poorly and now he's really pissed. I didn't even know MT could get pissed. I don't know anything...
And so I sulked for a little bit, deeply lost in my own thoughts. Was I upset because I wanted to like him and didn't? Or was I upset because I liked him but wasn't ready for him? Or upset because I liked him and was pushing him away for reasons I couldn't fathom?
It just wasn't clear. Nothing really was. Except that the Math Teacher had left the restaurant without me. And I wished he hadn't.
To be continued...
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
We continued on, until that spot, the dumping spot, was in my sights again. "Ugh," I thought, "if only I could get passed this. Him. The Dumping. The dumping spot. All of it." Then I got an idea...
Monday, June 13, 2011
After jolting from MT's bedroom like steam from a kettle, I might've thought about what that all meant if I didn't have to work a 10 hour day on a Sunday the following day. Hungover. Okay...really hungover. And then the 12 hour work days Monday through Thursday blurred together like one and the same until five days had gone by without even thinking about the Math Teacher. Or David either for that matter.
Then Thursday arrived and I was supposed to have dinner with him. He had texted at some point and suggested a little Middle Eastern place he'd been wanting to try and if I was up for it did I wanna go? I had said yes, but as the day arrived, I grew more and more tired. I was EXHAUSTED. I am ALWAYS exhausted it seems.
"I think I have to cancel for tonight," I told my co-worker Amber. "Not again!" she almost shouted at me. "You cannot cancel on him again." He will NEVER go out with you EVER again if you do this to him twice. It's not cool. It's not nice. Its....RUDE."
"I know, I know it is," I whimpered. "But I could barely keep my eyes awake in that meeting. And we have hours left to go in this day. I hate being this tired. I hate it. I really am this tired. I swear!"
Then I told my co-worker John about my plan. I needed a second opinion: "I'll just say I was stuck here. Stuck in a meeting. I couldn't leave. And say I feel really REALLY bad about it." "I mean, it doesn't really matter what you say," he replied. "It's obvious you just don't like the guy. Obvious to me. And it will be obvious to him."
But hearing those words. I realized it wasn't true. Because if I really didn't like the guy, I wouldn't be trying to think up the perfect excuse. I wouldn't be worried that he'd never go out with me again. I would assume that he would think and assume I didn't like him and stop asking me out and I'd stop going out with him and that would be that. But that's not how I felt. I felt REALLY, really, really conflicted. Conflicted between my complete and utter exhaustion and inability to do nothing and my desire to go spend time with him. I really did want to have dinner. So much so that I was still considering going - despite my growing weariness and hopelessness at life.
"If you're gonna bail, tell him now," Amber said. "It's not fair to him." "I know, I know, I know," I said. But what if I feel better later and change my mind?" Amber just looked at me. With that bitchy, no-nonsense, handle your business look of hers that said: "Tell him now. The end."
So I texted him. That I was stuck in a meeting and I was REALLY disappointed but I wouldn't be able to make dinner that night. But that I knew our friends were getting together for happy hour and then karaoke the next day (Friday) and that I was hoping he was going and that we could go together. Perhaps he could meet me at the metro near my office. I usually get off work between 7 and 8 but I would get off at 4 and we could get there before anyone else and spend some time together before the whole gang arrived. How did that sound?
He said it was really too bad about dinner. But he would meet me. And we would go together. "Thank you for understanding," I told him. But I could tell, he wasn't as patient and unaffected as he had been the last time.
I got off work at 8pm. I was too tired for the walking and the metro and the bus so I hailed a cab and paid the $15 to get home just a little bit sooner and without any effort. Just sitting there. Defeated. Downtrodden. Disjointed.
I did not stop Go. I did not collect dinner. Or a conversation with the roommates. I went directly to the bedroom and collapsed into the pillows - my own kind of heaven, but my own kind of jail. I couldn't escape my confused thoughts and my put-upon heart. I lay there, thinking "damn." "Damn, damn, damn, damn." "I should've gone to dinner....there's something about him..." And I was worried, for the first time - that I might lose him. This amazing guy who had grit. Who stayed. Who never faltered. Who let me be me. And liked me. And who was so good looking that no one would ever kick him out of bed for eating crackers. And I started to get the sinking feeling that I had ruined something that could be something - maybe even something good.
To be continued...
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
After being outside in Baltimore at the Preakness Horse Race all day, my group of friends continued on to another bar to party. After hours and hours of being there, I was tired and a little sun burnt and a little drunk. The Math Teacher and I looked around and realized that all of our friends had left us and gone home. I wasn't sure if they had even said goodbye. We had gotten lost in conversation for who knows how long.
We left the bar and got a cab. We decided to go to his place, with the understanding that I was in fact tired. burnt. and nothing was going to be happening. And he was fine with it. But by the time I got to his house and into his sport clothes (which happen to be super baggy on me and completely ridiculous looking) and lay down in his arms, I suddenly felt suffocated and trapped. I had to work the next day (yes I work on Sundays, every Sunday, fml) and I wanted to go home and shower the dirt and suntan lotion and long day off me and go to bed - ALONE-. And get some real sleep. And get up in the morning surrounded by my clothes and my things before heading into work inevitably hungover.
"I'll give you a shirt in the morning, " he said. "And you can shower, just relax."
He is always saying that to me. "just relax." But I don't WANNA relax. Or maybe I need to. Or should. Or just can't.
We went through his closet and I tried on everything he owns that I could wear over jeans to work on a Sunday. Button down shirts mostly. He is 6'3 and I am 5'7. Needless to say, I was swarming in stripes. I looked at him and shook my head. "You know this isn't going to work right?" "I know," he said. "I'll walk you down and get you in a cab."
And he did.
Things just hours earlier had seemed so right. So easy. What was my problem? Why couldn't I just lay down in the arms of a man - who seemed to truly be that - a. man. And let him hold me. And care about me. The whole night through. I wanted so much to want to be with him. I wanted so much to be over David. But some days, are just so much harder than others. And confusing. And at that moment in time, I had to get out of there and be alone.
There's nothing I can do about it. The sadness ebbs and flows. The new found feelings for MT come and go just the same. And I seem to have control over none of it, but instead, I am victim to the unpredictable tidal waves of feeling that continue to wash over me without any relief.
Monday, June 6, 2011
“Math is like love -- a simple idea but it can get complicated.” "
After bowling, I felt guilty about the way I'd been treating The Math Teacher. It wasn't who wanted to be as a person in general and certainly not the way I wanted to treat someone pertaining to matters of the heart. Particularly when someone else so recently had been so careless with my own emotions.
On the following Saturday we went to the Preakness horse race with a large group of our friends. The girls wore sundresses and the guys wore shorts. We drank beer and rum and mimosas in a grassy spot by the race track on the infield. I lay on a blanket in the sunshine and took in deep breaths of warm air. It was the most relaxed I'd been in months.
The Math Teacher sat down beside me. Put his arms around me and we fell asleep.
We woke up some time later. Our friends laughing at us and teasing us saying some such nonsense or another. We sat up half-awake brushing hair and blades of grass out of our eyes and hair.
"Why don't you admit that you like each other?" our friend The Canadian said.
"What do you mean? We do like each other," I responded.
"Well then what are you?" The Canadian said.
"I don't know. We don't know,"I said. Which was true. I didn't know how he felt about me. I didn't know how I felt about him. We were nothing. Yet we were something. It was all a bit strange.
We got up and walked around the park holding hands - me with my Math Teacher and caught wondering how things can change so fast. Who you hold hands with. Who you like or don't like. How you feel. And I guess that's a good thing. Even when it's not.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
He said he was hungry. He is ALWAYS hungry. But he is SUPER TALL and very fit and trim and so I can see how his metabolism is like that. I wish my body were like that. I eat nothing and am not hungry ever and yet I still carry the pounds. It sucks. But I digress again...
Thursday, May 19, 2011
So maybe he doesn't sound like the greatest guy. But then again, you don't know the whole story...
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Why 'the teacher' is everything that is wrong with men in today's society:
I recently posted a comment that indicated my dislike for 'the teacher' in succinct and somewhat blunt terms. A 'Heather' responded indicating a desire to see this blown out into something more substantial Heather, this is for you:
The teacher represents a crawling manifestation of everything we seek to avoid as we traipse through the human experience. At first, and in small doses, this man is amenable and sometimes even affable. He is at the outer extremities of your group, the type of rogue with whom you would never hang out 1 one 1, but he's always there, always looking. Angular and awkward in construction, there's a sharp movement in his step, as though always ready to slip his hand somewhere unwanted.
He will go for the weak and the vulnerable. Recently broken up, emotionally damaged, desperate for affirmation of their beauty; that they are thin, that they can get over it, that they do actually like giving head, really, truly. That's his specialty, that's his wheelhouse.
In this particular instance our villain knew of the pain dear MM was going through. This was out in the open and it was clear and it was very true. He sat there, he said the right things, he put a consoling hand on a damaged knee. He saw a girl that was at her very lowest ebb, a girl that needed an arm, a hug, words in her ear to let her know everything will be alright. Really. She was desperate for someone to push $20 into the hand of a cabbie and send her home. She was desperate for someone to care, for someone selfless, for someone who didn't think with his vile wick.
He was none of those things. He was her worst nightmare that night.
Lest we forget the group of friends that were present that evening, and I for one will never forgive, never forget. They saw first-hand his moves, his lines, his darting tongue and thin words. They could have surrounded MM like on the Serengeti and ushered him back to the dark visages of his mind, from where he came and where he will ultimately return. But they didn't. They were complicate. They pushed MM into the waiting clutches of a man designed to suck the life out of those around him because he knows of nothing but pain.
That's probably why I hate 'the teacher' and everything he represents. Scum.
A mutual friend - "He actually likes you."
Me - "He does?"
The mutual friend - "Yes he does. He's just afraid of being the rebound guy."
Me - "But he is the rebound guy."
Friend - "Sometimes a rebound guy becomes a not-a-rebound guy."
Me - "But, I'm a mess."
Friend - "You are kind of a mess."
Monday, May 9, 2011
Friday, May 6, 2011
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Since you guys seemed to enjoy PART 1 of this story with the crazy bitch and her basket...I'd figure I'd give you just a little more on it. Here was my actual emailed response to my friend Chris upon hearing his story of putting up with this bullshit...
"That seriously is the most craziest fucked up story i've ever heard. I don't care how hot or how fun or how good of a lay she is, I don't know how a good person like yourself could be around as BAD A PERSON as that. Who treats people like that? Who thinks its ok to treat people like that?
You are doing the entire universe of people a DISFAVOR by continuing to allow hot women to be total and completely self-centered, entitled bitches and let them think they can get away with it so they continue again and again to act this way and treat people this way. INCONSIDERATE RUDE PEOPLE are a waste of space on this earth. And it makes me sick guys put up with it.
I've been trying to think of a way to respond to this email that wasn't all fired up and opinionated and annoyed but I just cant. You are my friend. This girl sounds like she sucks. You are a good person. K and V and I are good people. This girl is not.
Honestly. How many women are there in NYC? At least 1/3rd of the hot ones have to have a single neuron of intelligence in their brain and a bit of decency in their hearts. FUCK THEM. DATE THEM.
Ugh. I'm vaclemped! (spelling?)
P.S. this story IS FUCKING HILARIOUS THOUGH. UNBELIAVABLY HILARIOUS."
TO WHICH HE REPLIED...
"Haha. I made her pick up the basket! If she hadn't picked up the
basket, I would have said, 'Peace Out!' Our latest conversations involve how many free meals (as in me cooking exclusively) she thinks she can get away with based on her looks and pouting.. Haha. I'm setting the girl straight!"
I GIVE UP.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Monday, May 2, 2011
Inquiring minds want to know - what happened? why did he dump you?
It's been too painful to share with you. But seeing how today I saw him on the street and while still totally sucked, I didn't die right there of a broken heart. So I guess I'll live. And I guess I'm moving on. So sharing with you - this ONE AND ONLY time (I hope) - this very painful thing - may help. And is worth a shot.
It was Friday night at 7 o'clock. Finally time for me to get off of work after 5 consecutive 13 hour days in a row. I had started a new project with a new client. I was feeling great about my responsibilities and talent and efforts and results. And I hadn't seen David all week. I couldn't wait to see him. He said he would swing by my office and pick me up. And then we were supposed to go to dinner just the two of us. A romantic dinner at a little Italian place I'd never been to.
Another fact you might not know, is that 3 days later I was supposed to meet his parents for passover dinner. Something you will now know, but David never will, was that I was so nervous yet so excited for this dinner. I thought it meant something. I thought it meant something big. I thought it meant he loved me. I wanted it to mean he loved me. I'd taken off of WORK!!! (unheard of) to go dress shopping at Macy's. I'd tried every dress on they had in the store and bought three. I would decide which one was most appropriate later I had decided and return the other two (or save them for other occasions we might go to together). I had listened to NPR podcast and news stories ALL day long at work for days. His mother is a psychotherapist, his father a teacher. I didn't want to come off like an ignoramus. I wanted to impress them.
Just moments before he was to arrive, I went to the restroom. I brushed and primped my hair. I touched up my makeup. My eyeshadow. My lipstick. My lip gloss. I always wanted to look good for him. I was so happy.
I went down the elevator and out into the lobby. There he was. In one of his many suits. When he looked up he smiled, but in a forced way. I could feel my walk pick up a little quicker, almost in a half skip as I moved towards him and planted a firm kiss on his lips. I guess in hindsight, it wasn't really returned and had been all my doing but I hadn't noticed. "How are you?" he'd asked. "I'm great," I said. "The new job is going great! It's so good to see you. How are you?" "I'm okay" he replied. "Just okay?" I asked concerned thinking it was a work thing or a family thing that was bothering him. "We'll talk about it," he said as we turned up the street towards Dupont Circle.
"Why are you just okay?" I asked again. "We'll talk about it" he said again. "You're worrying me..." I said in response. But he gave no further answer. We walked several blocks and I felt sick in my stomach. I knew. I just knew.
"Do you wanna break up?" I asked him. "Yes," he nodded. "Shit," I said. We kept walking a little ways. "Okay," I said. "That's it?" He said back. "Well, what can I say?" I said panicked, the tears starting to well up choking in my throat. "I can't make you be with me if you don't want to be with me." He nodded again.
I suddenly felt overwhelmed and lightheaded. We sat down on a rock wall surrounding a park filled with a happy family of father and children playing baseball.
"Why did you ask me to meet your parents," I almost shrieked. "That was before..." he answered. "That was cruel," I said back. "There is nothing about this, that isn't cruel," he replied. "This is hard on me too you know." "This isn't hard on you," I said meanly. "It isn't hard on you at all."
"It just isn't right," he explained poorly. "I don't know what's wrong. But I haven't been able to sleep lately. I've been thinking about it for some time. It's just not right."
"I don't understand," I started to cry. "I feel liked I learned nothing from this relationship. I don't know how we went from those great dates at Firefly and Oya and Dplan to where we ended up. I don't know why we don't 'fit.' This isn't what I want. I like you. I like being with you. I want to be with you. We seem to have so much in common. Why is it so hard to just spend time together and be happy? Why didn't you get off a long day of work, want to see my smiling face, call me up saying 'coming over?' - go home with me, cook dinner, watch tv or read and go to bed. Any day, every week, all the time? Of course our relationship wasn't working. Bc it wasn't a relationship at all. We never DID anything together. Why didn't you want to do things with me or spend time with me and just relax with me if you liked me as much as you said you did? I just don't understand. I don't. I tried so hard. I tried to be nice and flexible and give you space. I feel like you never let me in or tried at all. And I don't know why. And that's so hard."
He paused for a long time. Then he tried to rub my back with his hand and I pulled away from him.
"I don't have any answers, just shared hurt. And confidence that this is the right decision. I feel good about the time we had together. I think you are truly excellent; smart and beautiful, kind and generous. I wish you the best in all things. I did and do care for you. The answer you are looking for is an intangible. i don't know why it didn't work and I really wish that it had but it didn't feel right to me and when I realized that it wasn't just stress or scheduling or anything either of us could change I thought that the best thing would be to recognize that and end it. I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to use you, I was hoping to fall in love with you. I didn't and it sucks and I don't know what else to say."
OUCH. A punch to the gut. Are there any words ever said ever before by anyone, anywhere that ever hurt as much? "I was hoping to fall in love with you. I didn't."
What else was there to say? I made him give me $20 for cab fare. I was in no shape to take public transit home. I was sure to cry in public adding insult to injury. I made him wait for me to find a cab. "You were lucky to have me as long as you did," I spurted out sharp and angry. "You were lucky to have me at all." "I feel that way," he said.
"Don't call me. Don't email me. Don't invite me to stuff. Tell your friends not to invite me to stuff. If you see me on the street, pretend you don't know me."
"It doesn't have to be that way," he said. He genuinely looked hurt. Hah. As if. "Yes, it does," I replied without hesitation defensive and in pain. "Promise me." "Promise me this is it. I know myself and I want nothing to do with you. I wish you a good life I guess. Have a nice life." "I'll wish you the same then," he said back to me.
He hailed a cab and it pulled beside us. He opened the door. "Goodbye David," I said. "Goodbye," he said. I got in the cab and the door shut behind me. As it pulled away I looked over at him walking along the sidewalk away from me. He looked at me too. For a moment. He did look sad and defeated.
I held it together in the cab. I walked into my dark and empty house at 8pm on a Friday night like a zombie. I went upstairs and calmly put my pajamas on. I went back downstairs, opened a bottle of wine. I put something on the tv. I ordered a pizza. But when it came I took one look at it and felt nauseous. I couldn't take even one bite. So I just sat there, in the dark, drinking wine, crying and sobbing, and dying a little inside, until I fell asleep. I didn't leave the couch for almost 48 hours. Except to use the restroom. I sat in the darkness. I drank wine and liquor and beer. I didn't eat. I was empty. And I was alone. Yet, again. And all I could hear, over and over again, ringing in my ears like a curse -
"I hoped to fall in love with you. But I didn't. I don't know what else to say."
And I was left to ponder, what it was, that made me so willing to love others, yet so impossible to be loved in return.
I have never doubted why they call it heart ache. Because if you've known it, then you also know - your heart - actually aches. So much so, that you think you should die instantly from its infliction, but you don't. And minutes keep ticking. And suns keep rising. And people keep laughing. While you must watch and see and feel. When all you feel is despair.
Holy shit. Seriously.
Its like 9:15am on a Monday and I have work to get to. Like for realz. But...this is just too awesome not to impart to all my ladies out there who may need a beginning of the week boost of hope and awesomeness...
So - I don't know if I mentioned this before but I work ACROSS THE STREET from my EX (aka David, aka Mr. U or Mr. Unicorn - ack - barf - yeah right). I eat my lunch on a lovely rooftop every day. Only problem - I have to stare at his fuckin lair right across the street spoiling the ambiance. It blows.
My walk to and from the metro and work is his walk to and from his apartment and his work. So for two weeks I've been looking over my shoulder every second. Wondering if I was going to see him. Hoping I DONT see him. Hoping I DO see him. What if he was on a date? What if he was holding hands with some other fucking girl walking her to work like we used to do together? I was mortified and petrified and angry and sad and a total paranoid freak running around thinking I saw him anywhere and everywhere. Every morning. Every lunch break. Every evening. Totally psychotic nightmarish misery.
Then...this morning. I was walking from the metro. I totally forgot he existed. (At least for the moment I had). I was texting funny messages back and forth with my coworker B, on my way to work. She was already there and I was filling her in on the weekend.
And I look over to the right to check the traffic at an intersection and there he is. THERE HE FUCKING IS!!! The first time I wasn't looking for him and there he was. And I laughed. Out loud. Because OF COURSE. Because OF COURSE the one minute I let my guard down, there he was.
And I thought of avoiding him. I thought of changing course to work. I wondered if he saw me and was pretending to ignore me or whether he hadn't seen me at all. And I somehow decided this was it - I was going to run into him - ON PURPOSE - and get back my sanity. And my independence. And my freedom.
So I walked on, until we were next to each other AT THE SAME FUCKING CROSSWALK. Waiting for the light to turn so we could cross the street. And he stood next to me.
"Hey," I said nonchalantly. "Good morning."
"Oh! Hey!" he said as surprised to see me as I had been.
And then my coworker B sent me a text that was HILARIOUS and I looked at it and laughed.
"You seem to be in a good mood this morning," he said staring at me.
"Yeah," I said. "I am. I'm good."
"Thanks for my stuff," he said. (I didn't mention it but I dropped his shit off in a plastic bag on his doorstep in the middle of the day on Saturday. Good riddins).
"No problem," I replied casually. "I just didn't want anything of yours lying around."
I got another text from B and laughed one more time. "Take care," I said as easy breezy as a Covergirl, waving my hand in the air with my folded up newspaper. I walked across the street away from him and smiled down ahead.
He had LOOKED LIKE SHIT. He looked tired. and sad. And I - did not. I don't know if I'm winning or not (really), since I love him. And miss him. And he fucked with me. But again. he. looked. like. shit. tired. and. sad. And I did not. I'm definitely not losing. And you know what...he just looked like some guy. It's sort of tragic really - because its like he was a stranger. Like none of it every happened. But Life goes on...because it must. And since I must go along with it...I'll do it and win.
YES!!!! A TRIUMPH!!!
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
I'm exhausted and tired and have to get up early and go to bed. But holy shit....
That was A. GREAT. FIRST. DATE.
I was soooooo nervous and obnoxious and could NOT SHUT UP. This guy is NEVER going to want to go out with me again. But you know what...
I would go out with him again.
I laughed. And laughed and laughed.
We talked about NOTHING. And it was phenomenal.
Somehow we got in a conversation about what type of classes/styles/lifestyles of people vegetables were. We decided cucumbers were yuppity and uppity. We decided that sweetpotatos were a kick ass starch. We decided that even though I like cauliflower I would never be cool because I work for the man.
It made no sense. But it was awesome.
He's sweet and nice and accommodating.
And maybe we are better off as friends. And maybe there will be no second date.
But there was a moment where I went to the restroom and I looked at myself in the mirror. And I wasn't just smiling with my mouth. I stared into my own eyes and my eyes were smiling. And I thought - you. are. okay.
And you are gonna be okay....
Yay! More tomorrow...
So remember how I got completely wasted 2 days after getting my heart completely stomped on by the unicorn imposter (sort of, I mean he's a pretty great guy. ugh. wish it weren't true) and how I hooked up with this guy in my circle of mutual friends? To feel better - no big deal.
Well what you don't know is that 7 days after getting broken up with I went out on the town again for my friend M's 30th birthday. And I was feeling it you know? Feeling great. Feeling so great it made me wonder if it really WAS A GOOD THING that David had dumped me? Like maybe I hadn't been myself around him? Or it had been harder than it should've been? Or that it was just so tiring trying to make someone happy that maybe couldn't be happy? I don't know. But last Friday - I felt great. I was dancing and laughing and finally eating again. (Did I mention I lost 8 pounds in 7 days because I barely swallowed a morsel? Every time I looked at food I felt like I was going to vomit. But I digress). I felt good. And The Math Teacher, or I suppose we could call him Rebound Guy, was there. And I talked to him. But I also talked to our friends. And I danced with him, but I also danced with my other girl and guy friends.
And at the end of the night...
I went home with him. Again.
Except this time...nothing happened. I mean I told him nothing would happen and he told me to come home with him anyway. And really folks. Nothing happened. We watched a ROCK movie (You know who the Rock is right? hah) and he held me. He held me ALL FUCKING NIGHT. I don't think David ever did that ONCE. Because he was a fickle sleeper and couldn't get to sleep. And he'd get cold and needed more blankets. blah. blah. blah. Its not that David never held me. But he never held me like that. And it made me sad. Like how could this man I spent months and months with never hold me like that. And why not? And why were we together? But I didn't think it was great that we were no longer together. I just still wished we were. And that he had changed. And been different. And loved me. And held me - like that. But he didn't. And we aren't. And he never will. It's the worst.
In the morning, The Math Teacher made me breakfast and we watched tv. He walked me outside and put me in a cab and asked me if I wanted to go out this week. What else could I say? I mean I guess I could say no? But why not? What the fuck else have I got to do?
So when I get off of work tonight around 8pm - I will officially GO BACK TO DATING. Which is my worst nightmare. I mean - to be honest - I rock at dating. You wanna know why? Because I'm friendly and energetic and interested in people and a good talker. And because I've been on about a thousand dates in my lifetime. Well not that many - but close. And I'm sick of it. I don't want to date anymore. I know I'm not supposed to say this and its anti-feminist bullshit or something but I don't want to date. I don't want to be single. 6 months ago I thought I hated marriage, children and men. And then I fell in love with someone. In a grown-up way. As a grown-up. I'm ready. Ready to be in love. Ready to settle down. Ready for marriage and children and all of it. And it sucks. Because to get there - I have to date. A lot. And go on bad dates. Probably. A lot of them.
So I'm starting with the math teacher. I think its going to be really really really REALLY weird. Because we started out by seedily hooking up. And I know him as a friend. And all my friends know him. And we all hang out together. And it just feels weird. And because I'm sad. And because I miss David. And because I wish David and I were having dinner. But we aren't. And a girl's gotta eat...
I'm going to try to be positive. And I'm going to be a good date. Because I always am. Because I can't help myself. Life goes on...because it does. So I will go on...because I must.
Cheers and wish me luck,