The Blood Drive

At work, I kept my distance from the douche bag who dumped me. I didn't look in his direction, made sure we no longer emailed. No texting. This guy no longer wanted me. Why continue to torture myself?

The week before Halloween I had gotten my hair done and was making a futile attempt to find a costume for our work party. When the hell did Halloween become the day of All Sluts? Where were all the Dorothy and Snow White costumes that looked like they could have actually been worn in the movies? No, now everything is tits and ass and then some. I needed something work appropriate!

As I approached one store I saw I had a missed call from Work Guy. Why was he calling me? This started a whole train wreck of thought processes. Is he mad at me because all the guys in my row hate him? Did I say something I shouldn't have and it got back to him? Does he miss me? Why, oh why, would he be fucking calling me? So I came up with the one idea that made sense. He mis-dialed. I sent him a text asking if he'd meant to call me. Yes, he just wanted to say hi. But why?

I told him I was out shopping and would call him when I got home. I tried, but he didn't answer. So naturally I proceeded to glare at my phone the rest of the night in vain. We texted on Friday during the Halloween party. I managed to find an Eskimo costume that was cute and, in my opinion, scary. Isn't the scariest thing imaginable living in a constant state of snow?? People didn't get it. Called me a build-a-bear instead. I needn't have worried about the propriety of my costume however, there was a female manager who dressed as a slutty nurse complete with see-through costume exposing a white thong.....

The deal with having a costume in the first place was so I could leave work early. My manager declared all who dressed up got a half day. So as I lay in bed, Work Guy texted me how Eskimos were sexy. I cried again and slowly began to hate him more. He had dressed as Oscar the grouch with see-through trash can. He asked what I would do if he showed up at my door with nothing underneath, the sun shining behind him. I wanted to reply something sexy, have him come over and re-kindle our fire. But I knew it would mean more to me than to him. I would say something stupid, like I love you, I can't live without you. I would have committed unspeakable sexual acts on a Sesame street character. I had to remind myself that he didn't want me. Didn't want me and had dumped me in a text. Had stalked me into dating him with the boldest declarations of love then found me lacking.

I simply texted him back the part where it would mean something different to us both. He agreed, and I swear to God my heart collapsed. He had just been trying to get some post relationship sex because he'd thought it would be easy.

Tuesday at work we were having a blood drive. I signed up and was waiting in the freezing bus for my turn. It doesn't make me nervous, and I have done this before, but for some odd reason I was shaking. As I lay there, pumping my life force into a bag I became detached. My breathing was shallow and my head light. I wanted to cry, every one was really staring at me. Not my sometimes imaginings that people are staring, they actually were. My friend Mel was at my side asking me to breath. In her words, I was "Butt-ass white."

I couldn't sit up, was sweating profusely under just my right armpit (that's the nervous one.) An hour later I was out of the bus and walking drunkenly back into work. I told Mel I would be fine. An hour until I went to the chiropractor then home, she looked doubtful. I sidetracked to the restroom to pee and collect myself. When I came out, Work Guy, his boss and Mel were all staring at me. I waived them off, I'm fine.

In the break room Mel and Work Guy followed me to get water. I was so totally on edge I gritted my teeth and tried to walk straight. Mel told me I should have someone drive me home. Work Guy peered over her shoulder. I ignored him. I do not allow myself to look at him. I walked past him with her trying to ingrain the belief that I would be just fine into both of us, even though I was fairly certain I might faint if I didn't put my ass in my chair soon. She stared at me, pointed over her shoulder and said "I think he wants to talk to you..." Ugh. My day was fast getting worse. I do not allow myself to look at him at work. Speaking is unmentionable.

I went right up to him swayed, and smiled. "Yes?"

"Do you want me to take you home?"

"No thank you. I'm fine."

I turned around and stumbled to my desk. A few minutes later he came to me and set down a bag of peanut M&M's, like he used to get me along with the morning after pill. Such an asshole. And a lemon-lime Gatorade. I drank the beverage and tried to focus on my computer while acutely aware that he was watching me from one side of the room and Mel from the other. Work Guy texted he would follow me home if I needed. Grrr. Why couldn't he disappear? Why had I been so stupid by dating him?

After 15 minutes of trying to type an email I decided it was probably best not to see the chiropractor, cancelled my appointment, and only because I was afraid of passing out consented to allow the "Douche" as Mel calls him, follow me home.

I drove carefully. I really didn't understand how I had gotten this light headed. I drank plenty of water, ate sturdy food for lunch. I had been prepared. As I pulled in to the garage I expected to see the Prius drive by the house and head straight back to work. There was no reason for him to park and come inside. He walked up to me and asked if could come in. He wrapped me in his arms and stroked my back the way he knew made me melt. The first time we had been intimate, he had touched me there so gently I thought I would cry. He rarely repeated that gesture in our relationship.

It was because of that touch I let him in. I was weak, and vulnerable. He let the dogs out while I changed into my sweats. When I came out he hugged me again. I had to press my lips together so hard to keep from saying something stupid. We sat on the couch, me trying look like I felt normal while I really just wanted to crawl into his arms and curl up in a ball. I wanted to lay my head on his chest and play with his hair. I wanted to go home..

He left after only a few minutes, saying my color was better. I didn't get up, for fear of hugging him again and possibly crying. Before he went to the door he reached over the house and patted my arm. Then he reached down again, tenderly put his hands on both sides of my head and kissed my hair. Then he left.

"What the fuck?"

I went to bed. It was only 4pm, but I was so tired and heartbroken the only place which made any sense was the solitude of my room. It didn't last long. Mel came over with beer and yelled at me for crying again over the Douche.

A week later I texted and asked why he had kissed my head. He was worried about me, but didn't want me to get the wrong idea. How sweet. I wish he would have had that notion a year ago when he was filling my head with all his temporary romantic bullshit.