Friendness

All the stuff has been swapped, thanks to LL and her willingness to drive me to get my chair in her big car. Which I totally appreciate. Although I did realize today that he still has my framed print of Monet’s Water Lillies. Totally not worth the effort to get it back, although I appreciate the effort my family put into it to get it to me. At first, I felt peaceful. Done. It was nice. All free and stuff. But yesterday I started edging back towards sad and then last night I dreamt about him. Stupid dreams. And so today I was totally sad and missing him.

I have been meaning to write, though, how this has all made me realize what great people I have surrounded myself with. I mean, the support and the loveliness… The immediate reaction of “what the hell did he do, and clearly you are too good for him.” I’d been having a whole “I don’t have any real friends” crisis not too long ago (It sucks how drama from college still effects me). And I still don’t have a best friend out here, but I have a lot of really cool people all around me in all locations. People who text or email or call or invite me places and make sure that I’m doing okay. It’s really meant a lot.
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Absenteeism

He wasn’t there. That’s right. He could not even manage to be at the house when I went to pick up my stuff. Oh, he insured that his roommate was there and could let me in. Or actually, he insured that if his roommate wasn’t there, they’d at least leave a key. But no. He “had to work late.” Which I might believe except that he was in charge of picking the day and time, and he usually knows a couple of days before when he is likely to have to work late. And he had everything all nicely stacked up in an obvious place, but not necessarily the easiest for loading, meaning he had to plan ahead enough to know that there was a decent chance he wasn’t going to be there. He did email me to let me know he “might not make it home in time,” but I didn’t get that email until after I’d already gone. It was not pleasant. Kind of like being punched in the stomach. Plus I couldn’t get one of my chairs in my car (I swear, my car fits a lot, but somehow the doors never quite open wide enough for anything mildly awkward), so I’m going to go by tonight with a friend with a bigger car and get it. I just told him to leave it on the porch, so there will be no real awkwardness and he can continue avoiding me as much as he wants. Which is mildly entertaining since HE was the one who wanted to stay friends and HE is the one who is pretty much killing any chance of that ever happening.

It has helped me to start feeling closure, though. Not as much maybe as if I’d actually seen him and seen how seeing him made me feel, but at the very least it has reminded me of all the times he put his job ahead of me. And I get that his job is important. But when he could never freaking tell them, “No, I’m sorry, I can’t do that at this time because I have other commitments,” it got old. It got old fast. Like when he couldn’t take me to the doctor’s office because he had to go to a meeting on his day off which he told me like the day before and I had to completely rearrange my plans to figure out how to get there. Or how when I did ask him to do something that was insanely important to me and so not optional and his response was, “I don’t know if I can miss work then.” Never mind that he managed to miss work for other people, like family or friends. Or how we could never make any kind of real plans, because “what if.” It made me feel pretty crappy and unimportant, and I couldn’t help but wonder if we did get married and have kids whether or not he would ever be there for them. I mean, who wants to have to see their kids’ faces fall when yet again Daddy can’t be there for their performance or game or whatnot because he has to work late AS ALWAYS?

Declaring against declarations

Well, I go see him tonight. For the first time. I’m a little freaked out. Or a lot. It’s just to get my stuff and he’s being properly abashed about the fact that it has taken so long, but still. What am I going to feel? Am I going to hate him? Love him? Want to hit him with my car? I guess I’ll find out shortly…

I’ve also decided that I probably shouldn’t declare things. No more statements like “I don’t think x will happen to me,” or “I probably won’t do y.” (At least I hedge them, though. I’d make a good lawyer…) But the whole anger thing? I was all, “there is no reason to be angry,” which is still pretty true. Except that there doesn’t NEED to be a reason, which I didn’t know. It doesn’t matter why he broke up with me; it just matters that. he. did. And that pisses me off. He hurt me and that’s not cool. And I know all the logical reasons, I have all those thoughts running through my head, too, things like I wasn’t really happy these past several months, I was tired of trying, too, I had doubts that I never let myself think about or take seriously… But I don’t care about that stuff. If I have to lash out at him and hate him for a while, so be it. Though hating someone while loving them is very confusing. And exhausting.

And I have to go home and totally make sure that I look hot. MUST. WIN.

Two Become One, and One Becomes Two.

Whitney’s wedding was this weekend, and it was glorious. So perfect for them, although I seriously came close to hitting her for her worry over whether or not anyone was mad at her and if everyone was having a good time (Seriously, Whitney. They weren’t mad and they all had fun). It was so sweet seeing her and her new husband together. Neither of them are super PDA-y or anything, and she in particular can be kind of shy about showing emotions and stuff like that, but you could just see the happiness and love radiating. SO sweet. And it was also fun to spend time around her family, in part because it helps me to see why she is the way she is, and in part because I got to hear funny stories about her childhood. I gave a decent toast, although I forgot half the stuff I was going to say, and managed not to cry, either from sappy reasons or sad.

(It was kind of hard going back there; it’s where SB and I met and started dating and lots of the places have memories and echoes of him. Like we went to a winery that I LOVE and did a tasting and a tour which was awesome and it made me think of the time we went there and how I’d always planned on having their wine at our wedding and how his favorite wine from there is their soft red…)

The whole thing just reminded me of how much I adore Whitney. She really has taught me a lot about being a real person, how to accept me for myself, how to be full of joy. Basically, she = awesome. And she totally needs to move out here. I even saw an ad for a company trying to hire people like her husband…

There was kind of an interesting twist in that I made out with one of their friends after the reception. I know, it sounds horribly tacky and I was all “it has no appeal to me,” but… it happened anyways. I would feel guilty about the tacky aspect, but a. it’s Whitney and b. Whitney did everything she possibly could to cause it to happen (which is not to say she’s responsible, as I am a big girl and am in charge of my own actions). As for the having no appeal, it didn’t appeal to me, but it also intrigued me. I think I wanted to see what making out with someone randomly was like, and I think I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it, I could be a part of that world if I so choose. I mean, it’s one thing to say you don’t want to do something when in all honesty the opportunity to do so never comes ups. It’s another to have done it and then to turn down opportunities to do so in the future. Plus I’d never even kissed anyone else. I wanted to know what it was like. I also was hoping that it would help me to fully realize that it’s over.

That said, I don’t think it was wise. And not because of anything to do with anything more than my emotional state. Because now I miss SB more than ever. I had gone days without crying over him, but now… I feel like I somehow cheated on him or something, which I know is ridiculous, but still. And, let’s be honest, that’s a part of the reason I did it. I wanted to do something that I knew would hurt him if he found out, and a part of me is plotting ways for him to find out. It’s not a noble part of me, but he hurt me and I want to hurt him back. I don’t care that I’m sure this is hard on him too. I just don’t care. He chose that pain. I want to cause pain that I’ve chosen to cause. Again, not a part of me I like, but I can’t deny that it’s there. Which makes me not want to care even more. I don’t LIKE wanting to hurt someone, I don’t like feeling hurt. I just want to not be in love with him anymore. And Saturday night just reminded me that I still am.