Somewhere between feeling like I was being gutted and feeling like I’d merely been run over by a bus, it struck me.
This was not my choice.
I did not break up with myself.
I did all I could do.
Posts under ‘Lurve/Luff/Like’
Because you asked
There aren’t enough sad songs in the world - or on my iPhone - to express what happened Wednesday. After the break-up Saturday, I cried until I couldn’t. Then I went numb.
I knew something dreadful was going on, but I couldn’t feel it. Like the time I heard an oral surgeon slice open my gums and start yanking out my wisdom teeth, and I just lay there dreamily looking at the reflection in his goggles.
TBID called me bawling on Monday. He said he may have made a huge mistake, that he kind of hated himself. I said I kind of hated him, too. Then I had a meeting to go to. We hung up.
CAPTCHA
I check the blog’s Contact page every now and then to make sure everything’s working.
Today the CAPTCHA was “EXE2″.
Independence Day
My friend Mike was dumped by his boyfriend over Pride weekend. A week later, I became single on Independence Day.
The Universe sometimes has an unkind sense of humor.
Let’s get this pity party started
TBID and I broke up.
I’m devastated.
The way he made me feel
I’d just sat down to dinner with a friend of mine when I heard that Michael Jackson was dead. My heart was already heavy, as a close co-worker’s ex-husband had died after a terrible terminal illness. He’d been in an out of the hospital for months and left behind two daughters, ages 12 and 17.
Earlier that evening, I was in a quickie writing class at a local Barnes & Noble. Most of the time had been spent trying not to laugh at some guy in the crowd who kept saying trite stuff in a voice that reminded me of Mike Tyson. That and learning that a fatal flaw is essential to character development.
And if anyone could be the poster boy for a really disturbing fatal flaw, something so bizarre you can’t quite pinpoint it, it would be The King of Pop.
DIY List Idea: Things someone should know if we’re dating
1. I’m going to blog about you.
2. I need personal space and time…
3. But not too much.
4. I determine what’s “too much.”
When you care too much to send a Hallmark card
Last year, TBID and I had birthdays (in the same week, mind you) mere months after we’d met. When his rolled around, I was in the process of moving from one side of Central Park to another. TBID had dinner with his family to celebrate the big day and then came over to my cardboard box-infested studio. There were no presents, just presence. He held me and said he had everything he needed.
Romantic, yes. But that doesn’t fly when you’ve been dating over a year and aren’t busy packing all your worldly possessions or fighting a devastating case of rickets or finishing a dissertation. This year I needed to have presents the day of.
I’m a sucker for extended metaphors
From Meredith Maran’s essay “Till Life Do Us Part,” featured in the anthology One Big Happy Family:
Google kind of love, or Why TBID and I are going to a shooting range
I’m really good at beginning relationships - open, adventurous, and unavailable enough to stay interesting.
The problem begins when I start to like the guy. Because people who really like and grow to love each other tend to want to spend time together. Sometimes they want to hear each other’s voices before they drift off to sleep or share the most banal details of their days and feel captivating and supported. Occasionally, they just want to be around with no purpose but to say, “I could do nothing with you all day, and it would be something.”
