The loss of my relationship is extra painful because I always choose to keep things on the hush-hush. Oh, I did tell my few gal pals that I was SEEING someone...It's so rare for me to be able to preen a bit, to showboat a little that I was dating. It felt good to be able to say to them with a happy lilt, "Well, I've been seeing this guy..." I'm usually private to an extreme point: venting here is a side effect, because keeping the disappointment penned up inside is ripping me up. I didn't let on to anyone that I was seeing someone, couldn't stand to feed other people's curiosities about a late bloomer in their midst. Now I can't allow myself to breakdown or face endless prying from well intentioned do-gooders. The gal pals are now the same ones to offer up trite condolences when I updated them that after just under year, my circumstances were falling apart. How I detested the stale, useless responses: " Well, you'll find someone else, someone better.", "You should go out right away to get him off your mind." The way I felt at first, all anxious and fearful, I'd almost prefer hearing the funeral standard of "I'm sorry for your loss." that would show they understood the depth of my anguish.

It wasn't love, more in a way that my affection was a drug, a crutch that I used to happy to be in his company. Now in it's absence, it's akin to a missing tooth in the mouth sensation where your tongue keeps going back to the open gap in the gumline. I'm cast adrift, gun-shy of having to start all over again. To endure another round of unsatisfying, unsuitable partners: the thought is so distasteful now that I have a measure to judge by. Thanks for the love/hate dilemna, Mr. W. How'm I supposed to settle for less now?!