It really shouldn't affect me anymore. I've moved on with my life...started a new life, really...but he still has the ability to make me cry. C was in town over the weekend. We had plans to go to dinner on Thursday evening, but he didn't leave San Francisco in time to make it, and by then I had made plans for later in the night. I felt a shred of guilt...if I hadn't made plans, I could have just waited the extra hour and still taken him to the Mexican restaurant I knew he would love. Instead, I made it seem like his fault we weren't meeting up that night. It was easy, too. Throughout our five year relationship, his chronic lateness had always been a factor. I'm sure I took it too personally, and read into it too much...but those are things you don't notice until it's all over.
Instead, he picked me up on Saturday afternoon. We went to a sub-par Mexican restaurant and drank margaritas. The conversation was nice, and I listed to him talk about mortgages for about an hour, all the while thinking "If I had just paid attention to his rantings during our relationship, I could have learned something." I have to give the guy credit; he's insanely intelligent.
When he took me home, the conversation turned the way it always does when we hang out now, "you always did this...you never did this...didn't appreciate me..." Then he grabbed my phone, taunting me the way he always did, and pretended to read my texts. It sometimes takes me by surprise, how much our relationship is like a big brother/little sister game. I grabbed at my phone, angry at this point and feeling insulted that, after all I had proven (I could take my life into my own hands and be independent) he still treated me like a child. I broke down at this point, crying uncontrollably. It wasn't just him, and I told him that as he sat on the edge of my bed and apologized, I've been stressed out lately and it had all come crashing in.
I forced him to leave, even though I was still crying and I know how much it hurts him to see me cry. I wanted to be alone, to take a nap. He did a "leave behind" though, so he came back the next day before driving home to SF. We talked for a bit...I apologized for my outburst. I walked him out and we hugged for an extended period. This time I cried because I was sad, because I missed what he and I had had, because I'm scared I'll never have that again, because I've dated a bunch of jerks since I moved back to LA, meanwhile there's a guy in San Francisco who still loves me.
2 comments:
Wow. That sounds pretty rough.
And having just passed my 9th anniversary, maybe I'm not the best person to tell you there are other fish in the sea.
But I can tell you that I met my wife and got engaged in a weekend. Yep, first date: Saturday night. Engagement: Monday night. 48 hours later.
So I am living proof that a life can change in just 48 hours. They just have to be the right 48 hours. It took me 28 years to have those 48 hours, but they came.
Buck up, little camper.
cfffffffffffx
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