FIREFOX Users! I have no idea why the colors get weird and I am saddly too stupid to change it. Don't strain yourself... Just ask someone who CAN read it to translate it for you!

Sunday, August 15, 2004

Spring Cleaning

I dumped Jackass from messenger yesterday. This is something I have meant to do for a long time but it felt like severing a vein. Too permanent. I allowed for the possibility that I could do this thing I love to do with him, every once in a while. But it was a great source of distress. When he was there it was good, but when he was gone it hurt. A lot.

So, I dumped him off. Which is a very affirmative move on my part. Because even if he logs on and comes looking for me, whistling for me again, I wont hear it. If I don't hear it I wont have to try to ignore it. Because if I successfully ignore it then I am in a constant state of "What if??" What if this was the time he was going to give me what I need? What if this was the time it would be good for me and not bad? What if. That's what I do. I do what if and I wish. (I wish I wish I wish I'm a fish)

So I dumped him from messenger. Suffered about 30 seconds of irrevocableness anxiety and pain, an huge conglomeration of WHATIF&IWISH thoughts all collided in my brain and then I LET IT GO. Once you set on a course, once you've chosen, it is senseless to second guess yourself the way I do.

Cleaned out the email, not that there was much. Because I had promised him I would scrub it clean every day anyway. He was not a big fan of leaving behind evidence. So, I had none of the sweet and wonderful things saved there. I had no Shakespeare, no song lyrics, not the one that just said "I love you". I didn't have the one where he described Florence, or the one where he tells me about seeing the sharks. Or any of the ones that just said OCD check -- are you there? Only the last one, which was just driving directions for how to get to USC. But I shit-canned it anyway. So, I cant sit around late at night, crying and reading "Here's how to get there the simple way. ... No more anxious living."

I have, on my phone, 3 text messages from Friday. #1. "How'd the test go for you?" #2 "HELLO" #3 "If you don't want to talk to me just say so and I'll leave you alone"

I haven't erased those because I haven't turned on my phone. But I will. Why not? The one I might have saved and cried over? This one "Vanilla Coke?" or this one "mememememememememememememememe" or this one "abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz" or, probably mostly, this one "Dinner?"

So, I am cooking with the cleaning. Just kicking it's ass! But I stalled. I got stalled and I need to work on this last bit I guess.

I have some stuff I wrote in my draft folder of my email. Dirty stories. (Yes, you read that right) Nasty little stories about sex I'll never have. When I thought them... well you know how that is. When I wrote them. I intended to share them. That was the point. To tell them to him and have him hear them. (Maybe this is all part of something J calls women's mystical powers) Every other time I've done the spring cleaning I have left those stories there. (Or to be exact, whatever stories were there I left there. There have been more than these but those that are gone were told) I left them there because I guess I was certain that the opportunity to tell them would present itself. And I'd want to take it. How sad to have all the pieces in place, motive, opportunity and a willing partner... And to have dumped your sexy little story in the trash? So I never did. And there they sit. OUCH.

This time is different though, as I am sure you can tell. Because I dumped him from messenger, I procured from him a promise not to speak to me any more. The door has been firmly shut and the only thing that will open it again is if his wife is no longer his wife. The only way that is likely to happen is if she dies. Odds of that happening are slim (and quite horrible to contemplate). So, why would I hang on to these stupid stories?

Because they represent a part of me that I've only just figured out. And it scares the hell of me that this was it. This was my shot. I didn't take it and now its gone.

He said we'll always have the yard sale. That was a day where I fell on my face in such a comic way that he will laugh at the memory of it always. What I didn't say was I'll always have that day where you looked right in my eyes and said "You know how I feel about you, right? You understand." while I was squished up tight against the first man I've ever really loved and felt like I was finally finished, completed, whole, home.


Anonymous Anonymous said...


3:48 PM  

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