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Posts Tagged ‘tears’

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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There might be some untruths occurring. To deal with this I have been swallowing my need to express, to demand answers and explanations NOW and waiting until the third round of business trips ends and he is sitting in front of me, the first time in over a month. This is the reason I have been silent. I haven’t been writing through my feelings. I have been cooking through them.  Making cheese and butter in my new kitchen. Rotisserie cornish game hens and pork loins. And then, I’ve been shedding a few tears when I find myself unable to find the inspiration to cook. He has brought an element of rediscovery into my cooking, becoming my food muse, and at times, when the confusion becomes deafening, my culinary skills are cut short. If I can’t cook, if sleep becomes elusive, I can find myself distracted mentally. Trying not to think of what I don’t want to, but unable to focus on anything else, my thoughts go into a haze, as a method of emotional separation. Then, some moments,  have been steeped in tears when I can’t decide what to do with my frenetic heart. When nothing else works. When it catches me before I see it coming.  Asking the universe for guidance and the patience required to wait and speak calmly in person. Asking the universe why something that is so perfect, is so imperfect, in a world that needs a little magic.

I don’t believe that love should be easy, I know that life is messy and complicated, and for that, I don’t assume that romance should be any different. But JESUS, does it need to be THIS complicated?

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