visit

Clearly I like crying these days.

Rather than timing it so that I didn't have to see him, I decided I could handle it and went to John's tonight to drop off the Christmas Tree, the Bullshit episodes and his copy of Into the Wild (a great book AND movie, by the way).

So I call him after dinner, tell him I'm in Tempe and want to just drop off the stuff to get rid of it, which I did want to do...it's been in my backseat since... well yesterday.

Anyway, so I get there, purposefully park outside the entrance (where you're not supposed to park) so that I will HAVE to leave. I walk up the stairs, let myself in, as usual. And there he is. Just leaning against the couch all relaxed and casual.

"Hey," he says.

"Hi," I say back, unable to look at him. I set the box with the tree and stuff in it on the ground as he makes his way closer to me. I busy myself by getting a plastic bag from above the refrigerator... where I know they will be. Open the freezer, take out my ice cream. My heart is racing, my hands are shaking. I can feel him watching me. He says something about finding a shot thingy. He's got all my stuff piled together at the end of the counter. He wants to get rid of me, rid his living space of me.

I pack the ice cream in one bag, the other things (including two necklaces, a pair of earrings, one miscellaneous earring whose mate it somewhere in the apartment, and the jigger) in another bag.

"I'll walk you out," he says.

"Fuck," I think. "'Bye," I say to everyone else in the apartment.

I walk quickly down the stairs, unlock the car doors, toss my things in the passenger seat, close the door and turn to look at him.

"Can I at least have a hug?" he asks.

I shrug. I cover my face and say, "I'm shaking right now." I'm struggling not to cry is more like it.

I don't feel him next to me until his arms are around me. I'm trying so hard not to sob right now it hurts. We stand there for a second and then he lets go. I ask him if he knows how hard it was waiting for his call on Sunday, knowing what he was going to say.

"I didn't even know what I was going to say," he says.

"Yea, but I did." He just looks at me. I look at the ground. "What made you decide then?"

"Talking to you," he says, still looking at me intently. "It didn't seem like you wanted to date me anymore."

"I don't want to date someone who won't compromise."

He shrugs. "Can I at least have a hug?"

We embrace, my arms over his shoulders, one of his hands on my lower back pulling me closer to him gently, the other on the bare skin right below the nape of my neck. This is always how we stand when we know it's going to be a long hug. He strokes my skin and I put my face in his neck. It so fucking comforting.

"I'm sorry," he says.

"Me too."

We release each other...but I don't know who released who first. I want to know what I could've done differently. I tell him that no matter what he says, I'll always think it was me.

"What, cause you were great? 'Cause you weren't terrible to me?" he says.

Coulda fooled me the last couple of weeks...what with my nagging and being mad all the time and yelling all the time. I say this to him.

"Yea, you nagged me, so what?"

"At least I augmented my nagging with...steak dinners, bottles of wine...you know."

We laugh. Okay, not really laugh. We smirk and snicker a little. I doubt we could throw our heads back in glee right now.

"You can always call me, you know?"

"Yea, but you know I won't," I say like I really mean it... God I wish I did.

"Fine, be that way," he says. Could that be pain? Could that be hurt driving that sarcastic comment?

"I just can't rely on you anymore, John, I just can't," I say, not really catching the hurt, thinking only that he's trying to lighten the mood. As if it can be lightened.

We talk about my move. He insists that he'll help like he said he would. I don't know how to tell him I can't accept his help anymore. That I can barely stand here with him not crying, much less spend a day with him, sweating, probably laughing and ultimately relying on him to be the big, strong man to help me move the things I can't move on my own.

We hug again at some point. I'm not sure when, but it's another long one, more skin stroking, more struggling on my part not to cry. He asks into my ear when I'm leaving, tells me to take pictures for him. I tell him I'll visit a lighthouse for him. This just about breaks my heart.

And finally I say, "My ice cream is melting," and sneak by him to get into the driver's side. Our first kiss happened next to this car. Now our last moments are happening, too.

I turn on the car, put it in drive, put the e-brake down and start to buckle myself in when I break down. I start sobbing. He's not even up the stairs yet. I can't move. My hand is frozen mid-air. My shoulders shake, the moans escaping from me me are low and mourning. Then I throw my head back and start almost screaming. Why do I feel like I'm losing my best friend and the man I love all in one? Why do I feel like I'm mourning this great loss, this thing that will never be replaced?

Finally, I pull myself together enough to finish buckling myself. I grab my phone, click on Megan and take my foot off the brake. As I'm pulling away, the only thing holding me together is Megan's calming, "I know honey, I know it sucks."

Sobbing I say, "Now I don't have any reason at all to see him!" Of all things, this is what's on my mind, a reason to need to see him. Now we each have all of our things back, there's no reason to call him up and say, "Oh hey, you forgot such and such, I'll just drop it by." There's nothing requiring him to want to see me. There's nothing giving me a reason to see him. Fuck. This is the worst realization of the night. Even beyond knowing that asking for a hug was for him, not for me. He wanted to touch me. He wanted to be close to me. And I wanted it to, goddamn it.

Half way home, Megan is tired of listening to me be upset so I let her go to sleep. And I think, "Why can't he just be an asshole?"

So, idiot that I am, sends a text: "Why can't you just be mean so I can stay mad instead of crying all the way home."

No response. My tears are sporadic. My fits come in short little bursts of agony. When will this stop? When will I be able to look at myself in the mirror and not cry? When will I be able to tell someone I just ended a relationship without tears welling up in my eyes?

Does he feel this? Does this faze him? Is he hurting? Does he miss me? Does he wish he could be different for me? Does he wish I could be different for him?

When will life go back to normal?

deleted picture blog

Thought I'd explain why I deleted the picture blog. I've been watching Penn and Teller's Bullshit and I just watched an episode where a girl was fired from Delta for posting un-flattering pictures of herself on her blog. Clearly, I do not want that to happen, so for those of you who saw it, congrats. For those of you who didn't, sorry, but I want to keep my job and God knows anyone can find this stuff on the internet.

By the way, Meg suggested that the acne comment could have been some asshole searching around on blogger. But here's my thought, yea I looked like shit in those pictures, but my acne wasn't like glaring, so I'm still convinced that it had to have been someone looking for a way to insult me, and to do it anonymous is just so cowardly it would only have been one person. At least I'm 99% convinced it was this person. And, really? It's been a year, shouldn't he have better things to do with his time? Guess not. Lame.

annonymous comment

Good morning! It's 4am and why am I awake? Well, cause I'm not sleeping. But that's not the point of this blog.

Periodically during the night I wake up and check my e-mail...cause it's there, it's something to do when I can't sleep, etc.

Tonight I woke up and I had a comment (that I chose not to publish) on my previous entry that said, "nice acne." Posted anonymously.

Now, three guesses who would post such an asshole comment.

1. John, but I don't really want to believe that he'd do that. Sure, the last post was directed at him, but surely he understands that I was hurt, right?
2. Someone who's close to John and is more concerned about his best interests than mine, but I doubt they read this blog, though John could've pointed them to it.
3. Paul.

Because lets face it, who else who reads this blog would have a malicious thing to say to me after that post? After the last three posts? Who, but someone who continuously wants to hurt me?

Seriously?

What an asshole.

At least send it with your identity. C'MON! Grow up. You can't even say something mean with your name attached?

Anyway, what only Megan - and the few other people who called me yesterday to make sure I was okay - know is that that post was really the only thing that was keeping me laughing yesterday.

Why? Because it's ridiculous! But I left it up, cause looking at it made me laugh and I needed to laugh.

And your "nice acne" comment is NOT going to take that away from me. Shit head...whoever you are...can't even own up to your own insult.

Anyway, I thought those of you who know I deserve better, those of you who care about me would appreciate that. I know I did.

*sigh* I feel a little better.