Today was almost better than yesterday because for most of it I sat at my desk with the window open feeling the cool Spring breeze on my face and listening to the birds. I have a lot of birds right now because I put a bird feeder out and I make sure it’s always full, which makes them happy. And their presence makes me happy.
But throughout the day, I’ve had a few breaks in my happiness that have felt like terminal sadness.
I’m usually so good at walking away. Or rather, so good at not walking into things at all so that I don’t have to walk away. And as strong as I usually am, I am equally broken right now.
I think it’s because I was pretty sure I was going to spend my life with Flea Market Guy. I know you’re probably thinking “after just two months?”
No. Not after just two months.
It was more like after just two minutes. There was something about him that made me feel so sure.
Maybe it was the way that he smiled with his whole face when he looked at me. Or maybe it’s because he’s the first person in a long time, maybe ever, that I could see myself sitting on the porch with 30 years from now watching lightning strike. Maybe it’s because he was so careful when he picked out dinner because he wanted to make sure there was something I could/ would eat. Maybe it’s because he had this way of sitting in front of me and giving me all of his attention and playing with my hair while he talked to me. Maybe it’s because he felt like my favorite book. Maybe it’s because he read me stories and I didn’t even know I liked having stories read to me. Or maybe it’s because he kept beating “our future” into my head. Everything was “we” and “us.” He talked like we had a future before he decided that even though he was great at being a boyfriend he didn’t want a relationship. And I think I’m so mad because I feel like he didn’t fight fairly.
I feel like he intentionally made me want him. Like he intentionally toyed with my emotions. Like he intentionally made me consider the future when I’m usually just a “for today” kind of person. I don’t even know if he did it on purpose or if he was just so used to being in a relationship that he referred to everyone as “we” and “us” and it wasn’t even specific to me at all because any person sitting opposite him on the couch would do. I’m just not sure.
But mostly I think I’m so pissed off because I let myself get wrapped up in it. I let my guard down. And I enjoyed it for a while. I enjoyed thinking about the future. I enjoyed thinking about having someone to spend my life with. Someone who I could laugh with. Someone who I could travel with. Someone who I could joke with. Someone who acted like they accepted me for who I was even though, in the end, I didn’t feel that way.
And I’m mad because we could have been great friends had he not acted like we were in a relationship from day one. We could have been the best of friends. Hell, I could have even helped him get through all his shit. But that’s not what he intended. He wanted to be a boyfriend. He wanted the perks of a relationship. He wanted the late night naked body rubs. He wanted the sex. He wanted the kissing. He wanted the cuddling. And I’m not saying that I didn’t want those things with him, too. But I am saying that I’d much rather not had them and still been friends than had them momentarily and feel like I do right now.
And the most fucked up thing about it all is that all I want is for him to come tell me he’s sorry for being stupid even though I know if I said, “It’s fine, I missed you,” that would make me the stupid one. But I would do it. Because I do miss him. And I know that all of this shit has nothing to do with me. It has to do with timing. And unfortunately, ours was off. He wasn’t single long enough to figure out what he wanted. Or like I said yesterday, maybe he’s in love with his ex that he insists on keeping around as a “friend” and not really letting go of. Or maybe he’s just an asshole who enjoyed toying with my emotions.
I don’t know why relationships have to be so hard.
I don’t know why everyone is so hell-bent on playing games and lying.
I don’t know why people can’t just tell the fucking truth when someone is sitting in front of them willingly ready to accept every bit of it– even the ugly parts.
It just doesn’t seem so hard to me.
But then again, he’s not the one hurting. So maybe pretending to be someone else is the way to be…
I don’t know.
What I do know is that this will be my last Flea Market Guy blog. I cannot devote any more of my time or attention on my heartbreak unless it’s in the form of fiction or poetry.
It’s time to get back to life. It’s time to get elbow deep in a new story.
I recently heard someone say that all writers and/or poets have some form of mental illness. I think I may have uncovered mine with this situation. Or at least acknowledged it. These ups and downs are making me feel like a crazy person. A psychotic person really (like one who may end up in jail soon). And I don’t like feeling like a crazy person.
So I will write. Something. Anything.
I will continue to blog. But if a day goes by where I am silent, it is only because I am going with the age old rule, “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.”
There’s enough negativity in the world. I’ve contributed my fair share the last week or so. I’m ready to be happy and positive again. And so it shall be.