Tuesday, January 15, 2008

Spending all week after-hours at work to get the paperwork ready for the auditors. I switch between feeling the urgency to get the task done, and well, just crying at the desk for missing M. W. and still on the email reading trip. Crying at home too. For shorter amounts of time, but just as miserable in the intensity. Again and again...it's really settling in this misery. Four plus months...the last email was the the end of September 07. Focusing myself on the email content and forcing myself to tell myself how badly he treated me, how he really pushed that keep your distance attitude... I can't even ask to go back to what it was because it wasn't me that left, and there's no hope of him giving in. Just no hope. So that's how I'm stuck between missing him and knowing there's no relief to be found. Read something that says everyone has a point in a bad relationship where they either tell or don't tell themselves the truth that they know it's going the way of the bad. If it was so good, stupid, why're you miserable?!

Mr. A. continues to contact me. For lack of anything to say, I tell him candidly the facts that I'm depressed and on happy pills. He tells me, oh how he had to take some when his father died, so he can understand. Always swings back to how about sex with him though... So the problem is it's no libio? he'll ask. If it isn't, then maybe sex will relax me, make me feel better. He's not getting the message that it's no interest in him. There's no nice way to tell him that I'm sunk into despair because I desperately miss Mr. W. and that it's mainly about another guy and not him. I make some half-hearted arrangement that yeah, we'll get together and we can maybe watch porn together. Sure, sure. Woo-hoo, not so exciting a plan to me, dude. I'd probably have a better time by myself than with him. And be way ahead on my own too: I'd get some O's, not have to travel and not have to spend a dime or work for no reward either.

The bus on the route home passes by me at 12 midnight and I'll think of Mr. W. The car commercials that used the word "duh" as their advertising schtick. The shopping plaza that I'd met him at: can't go back there, can't travel the bus route there either. Phil Collins music, Bon Jovi music that I burned Cd's of for him. Not even interested in eating most italian foods that I used to have, that I would treat him to. Food at Wendy's. I shared flan I'd made with him, bought kosher chocolate rugelach, I made from scratch arborio rice pudding just for him. Having new email to read almost everyday in the beginning ... and now silence, everyday. This awful stinging pain in my gut when I miss him, and the teary-eyed regretful thoughts that accompany missing him. I often entertain stalker-crazy notions of just going to seek him out, give him that book, return that giftcard with wounded dignity, ask for an explanation of why, meet his mom, get the fairy tale dream fulfilled of closure - or that he's missed me too!, email his forwarded email contacts, find his black van, prove that I'm so smart to be able to find the place...and the thought of real rejection makes me cower, of being looked at as "That girl", the nut. Of finding out things that'd hurt more.

Mr. W. I would have loved you if you'd let me.

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