Linger

Typical Monday.  After a fun weekend, it’s back to the old grind. The only bright spot is that I’m only working three days this week plus it’s thanksgiving this Thursday, my favorite holiday of the year.

As typical as Mondays gets, I look at the calendar and the date stares back at  me — November 23.

Fuck.   As much as I don’t want to remember, it hits me.  A year ago was the first time we met.  And with my mind warping at full speed, I got sucked into a vortex full of memories…. from the awkwardness of that first date, to the easy banter thereafter…. the thrill of the first kiss… the tender unguarded moments…. to the pain and heartbreak of goodbyes.

Stop it. Stop thinking about it. 

 But I can’t. It’s wave after wave after wave.

Places. Things. People. It just brings back too many memories.

Damn.  Just like that, the pain I felt was just as horrible as it was months ago.  I thought it got numbed by time. I was at the point where finally, FINALLY I was moving on.

Then this. Great.

I have to yank myself back to reality. I have to shut my mind because just the thought of it is too much to bear. 

Right now I am hating myself.

Snap out of it! You remember how you were, how low you felt after all was said and done? Do you really want to go back to all of that?

Honestly, for a moment, I almost succumbed. The only thing that’s keeping me from doing it is that I don’t want to give him the satisfaction that there are rare moments when I think of him. Of us.

It’s not one of the great loves that books and poets write about.  But given the right circumstances, I think it has the potential to be one.  You know how they always talk about having the right love at the wrong time? Even Barry Manilow sang one about it. But is there such a thing as having a wrong love at the right time?

Or better yet, the wrong love at the wrong time?

So yeah, I’m ready for this day to be over.

And as typical as Mondays get, I hate Mondays. Always have. Always will.

Tuesday’s another day.

xoxo

What a Difference a Day Makes

Eleven months ago,  a girl met this guy.  They went for coffee and spent time getting to know each other.  She thought at first that he didn’t really like her because at the end of the date, he didn’t even walk her to her car. Turned out that he was nervous and thought that she didn’t really like him, too. 

She sent him a thank you email and with that, he asked her out again.  And the second date was followed by a third, a fourth, a fifth,  and like they say, the rest is history.

Fast forward to six months later, everything blew up in her face.  Broken and rejected, she tried to pick up the pieces of what’s left of her.  Obsessively dissecting what went wrong, what she could’ve done that would’ve made a difference…. shoulda, coulda, woulda. But you see the thing was,  there was no fixing it. Not when the other has already decided that it wasn’t working for him. Not when he has already made up his mind. Not when he has already given up.  How can you fight against that?

A friend of hers once asked, ” Do you think he’s the ONE? “  and for a moment she was rendered speechless because she doesn’t know. She doesn’t know! How could that be???  Weren’t you supposed to know especially if you’ve been spending time together? Whatever happened to soulmates and that sort of stuff?  That should’ve been her first clue… but blinded as she was, she pushed that doubt in the back of her mind.

Fast forward to present-day…. after all the dramas and after some of her friends threatened to disown her (they can only take too much LOL )…. she thinks she’s finally getting over him.  Getting over — and not just getting by. They were right, just when you thought you’ll never get over that one person, the one with all the almosts… you do — a couple of  months and some powdered donuts  later LOL. Not that she had donuts….

To borrow a quote, ” I remember the boy, but I don’t remember the feelings anymore.”

xoxo

Buts

I took my chances, but I lost.

I thought maybe… just maybe… but it remained just a maybe.

I wished he was  “the ONE”,  but it wasn’t meant to be.

I tried fixing it, but it’s hard when it’s already broken in the first place.

I thought that him and I were in the same place, but I was left standing on my own.

I hoped that we could somewhat still be friends, but I was a fool to believe so.

I was hurting and broken but I’m all glued back together now.

And I make no apologies for how I chose to repair what he broke. I know I’m better off.

Tequila, anyone?

 

xoxo

Reasons

Here I am on a chilly Saturday evening. The weather has certainly changed and I can already smell and feel the crisp autumn air.  As the seasons changed, I have finally started to move on.

Has it almost been three months?  Time surely flies by so fast that it seemed like everything now is a blur. I guess I’m healing nicely. I don’t cringe or wince anymore just thinking how it all went down the drain.  Like what  Hope has written, all that’s left is the sweet,  sweet sadness of almost.  How I almost got him. How he almost got me. Wait, he did get me. How we almost got it right. Almost, but not quite. Close, but no cigar.

We stood by the edge of the precipice, held hands even, stared down into the unknown…. but unlike Hope, instead of closing our eyes and taking that giant leap together, he let go of my hand as I jumped. I saw him at the edge, watching me fall into that giant abyss of  nothingness.

Maybe walking away is the safest thing to do. We’re better off, right?  We’re better off walking away knowing that in the end, it’ll never work out. Better now than later, when we’re both thick in the middle of it. 

Was it then naught for nothing?

Not everything has fallen by the wayside. There were plenty of reasons why we should’ve stayed together. But sadly, there were a lot more reasons why we said goodbye instead. It’s hard to fight for something when it was doomed to fail even in the beginning.  Carpe diem, right?  That’s the thing with expectations, it’s just a setup for disappointments.  

We both still need a lot of growing up to do.  They were right — fools rush in. And like the fool that I was,  I was even willing to sacrifice all that I am.  I fell for him for the wrong reasons and I tried desperately to make things work out for all the wrong reasons.  Even when in the end, all that was left in me were doubts.

He told me that I deserve to be with somebody who really wanted to be with me. Problem was, I wanted it to be HIM.

I think that that was the most cruel and most selfish thing one could ever probably say. And how ” plus one”  is the loneliest number.   What an utter, total rejection.  Oh, aside from the classic, ” It’s me, not you” when what it really meant was it was really you.  Was I that  jaded??????

Like I said, I still have a lot of growing up to do. I still have a lot of figuring out to do. But one thing is for certain, I’ve come to realize that  I am better off.  That indeed, it’s him and not me.  That I don’t need a relationship to define who or what I am anymore. 

And if he wanted me back? Ask me that same question a couple months ago and I would’ve said, “Yes!” a million times over. But now? Honestly? I don’t know. Would I really subject myself through all of that all over again? The not knowing where I stand, the uncertainty? What I  do know is that unless and until we both sort out our own personal issues, we can never be. Not unless we both learn to trust. No assumptions. I’ve accepted that.

And if someday our paths cross again? Who knows, we might even exchange a hello or two.

In a way, having your heart broken is having a myocardial infarction. It can be life threatening, depending where the infarct and how extensive the damage is.  And what you need is time. Time to heal. So after almost three months status post, I am finally there. Almost.  Not quite, but getting there.

xoxo