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Posts Tagged ‘break ups’

It’s Valentine’s Day and I went to sleep at 4 am. I drove to Type Geek’s home last night, dropped off his things, tried to pick up my own and it didn’t happen. He didn’t answer the door, he didn’t answer his phone. I stood, on his porch, in full regalia. Tight charcoal grey dress, fishnets, vintage inspired cream and black t-strap heels, and a push up bra that rivals plastic surgery. Why? Multiple reasons. 1) I was aiming for reaction. I wanted him to see what he was fucking up. 2)I hoped I was wrong. I hoped there was any other explanation for everything and that possibly I would find myself in his arms.

An hour after I left, after picking up Haagen Daaz and sitting down to an ice cream sundae with magic shell,  I received a text. 15 minutes of back and forth texting, I said he owed me at least a 5 minute phone conversation. 40 minutes into that conversation I realized that, in many ways, I was wrong. It truly WASN’T about me, it was all about him and how deeply he is hiding away in his fear. What is he afraid of, I don’t think he even knows. He’s overwhelmed by life, by family, by career and by responsibility, and crippled by it all. This isn’t just about me and my pain. This is also about him and his pain. He apologized for it all, he realized he had no explanations, no excuses that were worth expounding on, in the end, he just chose to put his head down and not see me, rather than look up and at me.

My friends keep chanting, “down with the douche bag.” , but it isn’t that easy, is it? Not when you love someone, not when you find that one person who fits into your puzzle and who you can accept for all his or her scars, faults, fears and baggage and in the end, you can actually see yourself with this person, regardless of all of that. You can see yourself old with them, a lifetime of experiences behind you both, years of joy that reduce the emphasis of the painful moments we all experience as human beings. When you are in love with someone whose broken pieces fit into your missing pieces. Something deep and unexplainable, unreachable, tells me that this man is worth fighting for. I just don’t know what to fight when he doesn’t know why he’s hiding.

In the end, we are final. It is final. Unless another solution to this issue presents itself, my ten months with Type Geek have come to an end. I end this message, on Valentine’s Day, with tears. Tears over what I found, a truly open and aware love that I was unaware I was capable of, and tears over what he and I are losing, collectively.

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That is what he said, upon reading my email, upon finding himself overcome with tears from realizing that I had in fact started to fall in love with him and that he had just hurt me. Wow, did I just admit that. Yeah, I guess I did. I realized it a couple of weeks ago. That fact is neither here nor there. He needs to explore the possibility with this other woman, he needs to know what it could be.  We talked about this in person and I realized I was going to cry, so I politely, yet abruptly excused myself. I hugged him, kissed him on the cheek and walked off. Texts went back and forth, his begging me to forgive him, his apologizing for hurting me, asking me not to hate him. I finally emailed him because the texts weren’t explaining things, they weren’t saying what I needed to. I told him to read his email when he was alone. An hour later I received his response, speechless and in tears. An hour after that, he posted a Mando Diao song and I don’t know what to think of it. The video is below. The lyrics I will post below that.

Mando Diao : It’s not a perfect day

Well I saw her in a limousine
she smiled and hugged a man so tight
I stood there like a fool
and she was out of sight

She was lovely like a summer rose
I wanted her oh, so, near
but out from what I fear
that dream is gone and clear

and it’s not a perfect day for love
no it’s not a perfect day for loving her
it’s no perfect day for love
but I wish I could hold her once again

Oh darling can’t you see
I’m crying oh I’m crying hard
You stole my heart I know
please let’s move back to start
I want you how I need you
I’m begging on my bended knees
but I’m writing butter and life is not romantic

and it’s not a perfect day for love
no it’s not a perfect day for loving her
it’s no perfect day for love
but I wish I could hold her once again

Yes, I wish I could hold her once a gain
Yes, I wish I could hold her once again

What should I think about all of this? Who posts that after what happened?

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I am NOT this high maintenance, however, these are some of the people which he is used to dealing with everyday. He fell into café ownership after college. First, a small food establishment and then a successful chain of franchised coffee shops, which he managed to break away from the corporate headquarters and create strong independent identities for. He’s impressive. A late bloomer who seems to be coming into his own personal comfort zone in his mid thirties.

We met at a small bistro. He rose from the table for a brief but friendly hug. Setting the tone. I always prefer hugs upon meeting someone. Hand shakes are so formal, they immediately create distance, a physical and emotional barrier that is impossible to break through in only 1 hour. My belief is, you have one hour to show me who you are, without pretense, without apologies. It’s like the leading paragraph of a juicy novel. Hook me. Otherwise, I won’t be interested in those other chapters. Hell, like Cormac McCarthy’s All The Pretty Horses, if you try to hard, I might just get lost in your language and writing style, finding myself circling your first sentences over and over for some sense of honest simplicity, depth and meaning. Just be YOURSELF. Don’t try to impress me and don’t assume I am going to rip out your heart and serve it up like an exotic carpaccio to my girl friends. We all have pasts, we all have baggage, or at least we should. We need to live life in order to know who we are.

Late Bloomer and I started talking about all those “off-limits” topics. The ones I like. Exes, work, sex, religion. It was easy conversation. He thought he was the wrong thing by talking about his recent break up and how heart-broken he is over it. I wanted him to talk about it. I wanted him to vocalize where he is at and how he feels, internalizing isn’t good for anyone, especially post break up. Having someone to open up too and relate too is important. He meets a disproportionate number of undergrads due to the nature of his business and those people just can’t relate.

We had 4 cocktails. A light nosh of mussels for me and chicken for him. He wanted to smell my mussels, because he had never had one. He proclaimed, “I.AM.JEW”, therefore, no swine, no shellfish. He made me laugh when he proclaimed that once life is found on Mars, he is forsaking his faith and heading right to the nearest seafood restaurant for a lobster. Cockroach of the sea. Upon the end of the date, I asked if I could walk him to his car. He laughed at that, “YOU are going to walk ME to my car? I will walk YOU to the train.”  It’s habit, taking control in romantic scenarios. It’s what a I did for all of my years with women.

As we turned the corner to the train, while making more small talk and pleasantries, I commented, off the cuff, that, “Under normal circumstances, I would kiss you, BUT, considering where you are, I am not sure it’s what you would want or need at the moment.” He mumbled that I could kiss him. So, I stopped him and for a few minutes was reminded of how short I am while I tip-toed to put my lips against his, nearly 9 inches higher than where I stood. As I walked away, I reflected on how he was my age and had far less romantic experience, but far more success. Perhaps this lack of romantic diversion in his twenties allowed him the freedom to focus and create the professional success he has now. I think it’s possible that many of us have it all wrong, the order of things. I am glad for my experience, but I often feel light years away from any professional success due to the time I spent nurturing failed relationships. What’s the answer? Maybe there is no special equation or perfect set of guidelines. Late Bloomer, he’s doing better than he thinks he is. He’ll get past this broken heart and be all the stronger for it. In the end, this doesn’t define him, because he is already clearly defined as a man, as a business person, as a brother, as a son and as a friend to many. The partner and lover, that will come and only enhance what he already has. I get on the train aware that I am a little bit envious of him and of the girl who he eventually finds.

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