Lately it seems as if I cry more frequently than I smile. or laugh. I've been giving the same answer to questions about myself. How's life? How are you? or Worse, when T said I looked good, "you know. same as always".
I am not a typically meloncholy person. I am not accustomed to more than a few tears over sappy comercials. I thought it might be imbalance. That I have been working too much. But I don't think that's it anymore. Since I can sense that there is something amiss, I don't think that it is my favorite family affliction. (BiPolar Disorder). Whatever it is, I want to fix it.
And T? every time I think about it I feel physically ill. So I try not to think about it. It's not working. So when I can't help it? I try to spin it in my head into something positive. It's what I do. But it's not working. And I return to the same old delimma. But I wonder if that is even valid anymore. You see, I already made a fool of myself. the card, on the flowers was signed, "Love". It was after he read it that he told me about her. I watched him slide it into his pocket. Likely so that she wouldn't find it by accident. I just wanted to run but he kept me there with his small talk. I am so thankful that she was not there. I would have felt a thousand times the fool. At least, as things stand, I know I did what my heart told me to do. It bothers me that I don't want it to work out. I told him I want his happiness, but I didn't say that I want that happiness to include me.
The logical part of me knows that there are a lot of things that T has to come to grips with. That he has to find his happiness within himself. That he can't keep running from himself. I have always known that about him. He's threatening to move east again. Which is better than what he said before about not wanting to commit suicide. yet.
I ask myself why I would want to be with someone like this. You know, cracked. I tell myself that eventually, he would run from me too. I think he did run from me in many ways. And better than he runs from me know than later, when there are children. Then I tell myself that I am rediculous, and that I have to accept the reality of I am not the woman he wants to be with. But every instinct in my soul tells me otherwise. Every empathetic ability says something else when he looks at me.
The truth is, that look though I might, I have yet to meet anyone who I like to talk to as much. Who shares my interests the way he does. Who like to make wild plans the way I do. Every time someone contacts me on that damndable internet dating site I hope that there will be a click. A match if you will. But there is nothing. Not with Scuba Steve, not with yesterday's guy. Or really any of the other several men I am chatting with.
Yesterday's guy said something that really hit home. I didn't say it then. He talked about a children's book that decribed how when people get their wish, they stop evolving. It was a book on evolution but I understood it differently. And although I said at the time that I hope I never stop evolving, I also wondered if that was the real reason I hadn't gotten my wish. The only wish I can really remember making. The reason I stopped making wishes. Because once I thought it had come true, and it wasn't at all what I thought. I learn so much from each experience that I have that I wonder if there is so much more for me to learn that it is unlikely that I will get my wish any time soon. That doesn't lift my spirits! I miss the kind of interactions that occur between a man and a woman. Not sex. I have learned to exist without that, although that is part of it. there's a closeness you feel when you are with someone you care about. a closeness I have not felt in a long time.
But wait, you say, there was Biker Bob.
There are many things I did not discuss about my relationship with Biker Bob. I think I have said that more than once. Out of respect for our relationship, if it can be called that, I kept it off the internet. the truth is that it started falling apart as soon as it began. He would be late to see me, then show up smelling of beer. (in his defense, I knew he was out playing with his friends.) Further interactions were unsatisfying. We were more "nakid sleepover friends" than lovers. He spent more time falling asleep despite my attentions than responding to them.
His sense of play was different than mine. I tried to end it when I realized that we didn't play well together, but he wanted to keep dating.
I sprained my ankle the night I picked him up from the airport. (from a visit to his family) The next day, I'm sure I mentioned that he helped me put on my shoes. Drove me to the hospital. Once I had my AirCast, we spent all day running his errands. walking through stores until late into the evening. After that, I would count weeks between physicality, often days between kisses, even though we saw each other every day.
I invited him, at one point to my Friend's birthday party. He said he would show up, even got directions. But he never did. Got distracted, he said. Didn't really feel like it. When I confronted him, his response was, "no one there was waiting for me...except you" Still I held on. There was just enough to keep me taround. A caress here, a quick kiss there.
I am sad for the woman I became. Waiting for any sort of physical attention because it was better than none. When he stopped paying attention to me, (i don't require a lot, but when I'm there, don't act like you wish I wasn't) when we were both too busy, I realized it was time to let it go. I knew I should have before. I talk about it now because we are no longer speaking. I hope he finds the love he seeks.
I am not a convienence item. Some is not always better than none.
I'm not saying that it was all his fault. I was not giving him what he needed either. I'm not going to pretend I did the best that I could. I just think it shouldn't have continued as long as it did. I think it did me more harm than good.
It feels good to talk about these things. To send them out into the web for all the world to see. It's hard, now, because I have always used the same user name, and I worry about who might stumble across what I have written. i'm glad that I have not abandoned my written journal for all the secrets that I keep.
I feel a bit renewed again. Maybe I have just been holding my emotions inside for so long that they have made me sick in the soul. But only like, the flu. I just need to sweat it out. I hope it lasts. I'm running out of Toilet paper.