My Old Routine

So, one of the things I loved about being single was the fact that everybody else in the world was getting ready to go out on a Saturday night and I didn't have to. Seriously. Women everywhere were stressing out about what to wear, make-up, hair, would they get laid, heels versus wedge... And I could do whatever I wanted.

This Saturday I was very refreshed. No work on Friday allowed me to decompress. It seemed like eons since I had just enjoyed my coffee with a good book and watched the day float by. Little bit of actual housework helped me feel productive. My friend from work and her boyfriend came to the house in the evening and we laughed all night. It had been ages too, since I felt like I really participated in conversation instead of riding the wave, trying to keep up and always crashing.

So Saturday was pure joy. I slept in, more reading and housework. When dusk settled, I thought "What do I do now?" I had an antsy half moment when I missed Work Guy. Really just wanted to curl up in his arms. But I shook my head like a dog, grinned like the Cheshire and headed to the shower. I was going to do the thing I loved most. Buy books.

This is the plan: Go the Changing Hands to pick up the third and fourth book in the series I started. Walk over to Trader Joes for veggie corn dogs, fruit and hummus. Come home, read one of my new books and dance around the house like a crazy free person. I could hardly contain my excitement.

Plans get fucked up. It is the law.

I walked into Changing Hands, looked around for 13 seconds when a helpful guy asked if he could find what I was looking for. Fiction. Lili St. Crow. He had the audacity to doubt my spelling. He skipped off to find my goods, came back looking less helpful. His shoulders sagged and he had this strange look of dismay.

"We don't have them.. It was in teen fiction." He all but sneered. I gave him my best blank look. I really don't care if it is teen, child, grandma, or fast approaching thirty. Fiction is fiction asshole. "We can order them and have it in by Tuesday.."

"I will just go someplace else. Thanks." Subtitle: I wouldn't buy a book from you, ageist.

I went to Target, their measely selction of books made me want to vomit. I strolled around the store looking at other crap and ran into an old friend. Back in the day when Work Guy was literally harrassing me to date him I made a point of stating my independence. When he asked who I had to cuddle up with at night, keep me warm, I had replied that I had a body pillow and a heating pad. All true. However, when we started sleeping together, he moved the body pillow to the floor and the heating pad was a moot point. Now, here I stood contemplating another body pillow.

I all but skipped out of the store with it.

An hour later I had my book and some hummus and, of course, beer. My evening was tinged with some sadness now, though. I had been relegated back into my old ways because, in truth, I had never really given them up. Part of me knew I would be alone again and therefore didn't feel the need to give in entirely. I had fought for some kind of control. In all honesty, Work Guy had only ever wanted the challenge, the reward. It was not ME he was looking for.

So I cuddled into the warmth of my bed that night and cried.

Return to Me

On Thursday I strolled into work uncharacteristically happy. Normally, I roll out of bed tired, pissed off and late. I had stayed up waaaaay past bedtime talking on the phone with a friend, drinking beer-there was no sensible reason to feel this good. But I had jumped out of bed, thrown my hair up and gotten ready.

At the office I waited. The headache was supposed to come, the clammy hands, waiting for the thunder cloud that usually shows up between 7 and 8 a.m. But there I was, laughing with the guys I sit by. Sing-songing my way through the customers, training a newbie.

The guys all wanted to know what was up with me. I hadn't a clue. I was sleep deprived? It didn't even dampen my mood to see that thunder cloud standing up all day (which normally causes a hunching of the shoulders, leaning as far into my computer as I possible can, and trying to keep my insides from tearing their way out.) Nope, I was feeling fine. Smiling and laughing even.

It could be due to the fact that I was taking Friday off for the hell of it. Freedom was calling. I wouldn't have to see him for three whole blessed days!

When the newbie went to grab lunch my neighbor leaned over to ask if it bothered me to be stared at. He had noticed a couple weeks ago that Work Guy would stand up and look at me from time to time. I thought he'd stopped that. I'd told my neighbor that it made me want to stick my head in an oven.

"He's been doing it all day. Kind of glaring too. Have you guys been talking again?"

"No, I haven't so much as emailed him in two weeks."

"But he does it ALL the time. I guess I just thought maybe you guys had a fight or something."

"You are ruining my blissful day..." he looked appalled. The boys in my corner like the happy me. Doesn't everybody? "I think today is the first time I have felt good since it happened."

Then I told him how I got dumped. His mouth could have caught flies. He looked pissed and pitying. Not the best combo. That's when I deflated. My heart began to hurt again. I wanted to look at Work Guy but I made myself NEVER do that, not even a peek.

"So, if you see him looking over here, please don't tell me. Just waive at him or something. If he knows you see maybe he'll stop." He nodded vigorously.

I went back to work, but I was counting the minutes again until I could leave. My mind, which had been a happy bubble all day began to form a film. The same destructive thoughts reappeared. Why wasn't I good enough. Was he angry at me for being happy, was I supposed to suffer longer? Did he think I was flirting with these fun loving children? Was he talking about me badly? Did he miss me?....... Don't go there, don't go there.

The next two hours crapped by and I was a shell again. The tormenting agony was gone but I wasn't numb.
Maybe if I didn't have to see him 40 hours a week I could start to heal. I needed time to rebuild.. again. As I walked out with my head held high, I vowed I would do just that.

Rolling in the Deep

Some people have told me "Don't shit where you eat." I should have listened. Instead, I dated a guy from work. He chased me down, convinced me we could work despite all my protests. Told me he would do anything for me. Said he was saving money to buy me a ring.

And dumped me in a text message.

Best diet ever. I've already lost five pounds.

Four weeks have passed and I have to see him everyday at work. See his company wide emails. Walk past him on my way to the bathroom. It is a living hell.

Normally, when I have a break-up I look forward. I become numb and analyze all the reasons it didn't work. I don't get this bothered. On this relationship, all I have is sadness. I see the back of his head and want to touch him. I come home and think about how nice it would be to curl up in his arms and kiss him on the shoulder. Listless walking about the house ensues.

This week, he sends me a work email about how well I'm doing in sales. We email like we used to all day. That bitch spark of hope brings the sickness back to my heart and I am being ripped apart by the time I get home. So, I text him. Mistake. It just keeps happening.

This man-child never really loved me. He wanted to be in love. He wanted to win "the girl." He did, but then he was stuck with her. And I wasn't worth it anymore. What he wanted changed. And I am left cold.

So I am left to secretive glances in his direction at work every day. Sharp little knives digging into my chest. How did I get here? Why did I ever believe this person could have been sincere about anything?

I reach out to my sister. Tell her how heartbroken I am. "You just haven't met the right person yet". I try to get the funny out of the situation. "You're such a drama queen." Perhaps, no one can tell when I really am upset. Perhaps, I am speaking another language.

What I need to do is find another job. Never seeing him again, wanting him still, would be like a cool salve to my blistered life.

Post Break-up meeting

After a week of being sick to my stomach over the Work Guy, I had had enough. I decided to email him, seeing as I had already deleted his phone number. This will sound cliché, but that’s how I roll… I needed closure. I needed to know how he could go from falling all over himself for me to a remote electronic message that told me I was no longer of service to him.

So for two days we emailed back and forth. Why was he so cruel, what had I done so wrong to be treated like I would cause a scene? And most of all, even though I shouldn’t, I still love him. I want what we had back. I had the time to think about the things I took too far and should have done better. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t just want to be a better girlfriend and have him back. I wanted him to see that he had areas of opportunity to improve as well.

My emails were long and detailed. His were crisp and to the point. I made it abundantly clear I didn’t think he had ever really cared about me if he could discard me so casually. He didn’t like that. (Somehow I knew he wouldn’t like being told how to fell but I bet a million bucks he doesn’t see the irony in that.)
I even begged. It was not my proudest moment, but I thought if he saw how much I cared he would realize the mistake he was making.

He said we would take two days and then talk about it again. I waited those two days and asked if we were going to meet up or he just wanted to continue emailing. Reluctantly he emailed that he would send me some of his thoughts and if I still wanted to meet he would. Encouraging. I made my peace that this man-child no longer wanted me, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to let him take the cowardly way out of simply writing us off because

I hadn’t satisfied his needs.

No, he was going to have to look me in the eye one last time.

So I drove up to his area and waited at the local Starbucks. I was nervous. I felt alone, sick and sad. But my resolve was there. Even if I am alone for the rest of my life, even if I had done many things wrong in every relationship I have ever had, I am by far not the worst person in the world. It is not crazy for me to feel he left me out. It is not abnormal to get upset and angry with the person you love when they won’t try to see things from your perspective. Most of all, if I am going to be in a relationship it is going to be with someone who will communicate with me about our problems. Someone who will work for it and expects me to work too.
I very calmly addressed his thoughts he’d emailed. I told him what I felt I should have been better at, tried harder at. I believe I am capable of being better. His eyes were faded. He really didn’t care to work at anything.

He was done. I told him what I hadn’t gotten from him, how that made me anxious. How the things I had gotten upset about were valid and did not deserved to be dismissed. I was no longer making a case for why we should work things out now. I was giving him the conversation we should have had in lieu of his abortive text.
It lasted less than an hour and was all even toned. I ended with,

“I realize that you have no desire to make this work,” sad shake of the head from him.
“but I felt like we both needed to sit down and talk about this in order to move on. Remember last year when we first met outside of work? You were talking about breaking up with Target Girl, shooting her an email or texting her?” his eyes got wide, teary looking.

“I told you to go over to her house and tell her how you felt. You had been dating her a month and she deserved that respect.” He sees where this is going and looks even more baleful.

“So, what hurt me the most is that for a week I was so sick to my stomach thinking about how horribly awful I had to have been for you to do that to me. To text me you no longer wanted me, and were doing me a favor because I was getting older and want to have a family.” His eyes are wide with shock now. Like this is a revelation. I am betting at this point he hasn’t shared with a single female how exactly we broke up.

“I didn’t even merit the amount of respect you gave Target Girl. You have no idea how that felt. This is definitely one for the Book.” Shock, disbelief. Yes, you bastard. You made yet another chapter in the Book.

He apologized. We hugged, I cried. And damn it, I really wanted to kiss him. We walked to our cars apart.

There was something lighter about me though. I had gotten my say, aired my sins, and told him in my own way what an immature dick he is. I cranked up Lady Gaga “Bad Romance” and drove home.