Broken Up

“About your blog…if you want to vent…I don’t have to read it anymore.”

“Oh. Well, let’s just see. Maybe I want to vent and have you read it.”

A slight laugh, “That’s fair I guess.”

But I don’t want to vent. Not right now. I’m very hurt and confused. And just a little sick of men telling me there’s “something missing.”

I don’t understand. I don’t think it matters. I can’t change his mind. If I could, I would. I don’t know what I would change it to. To give us a few weeks to let life calm down? To be able to actually spend time together since a month apart before making this decision? To recognize he’s pulling away and to just hang on until the panic passes?

When the certain boy broke up with me, he said he felt a physical presence missing. He said that he felt as if he wore armor and other girls had touched him in a way that pulled it apart. It was a very disturbing, almost violent, picture he put in my head. And I knew after that, that I was happy it was over. Because I can only stand by someone while they come out of their shell. I’m not able to take it off for them.

The weekend of the wedding, the certain boy told me he didn’t remember saying any of that to me. He had just been scared and run away.

If this is a mistake now, only the new boy can figure that out. I can’t draw him a map or use some derivative of x and y to show him that we equate to a good thing. He should be able to get there on his own.

And maybe all I really have to understand is that he has. He did the math, used the compass, but it didn’t lead him to me.

I haven’t cried yet. I stopped at Blockbuster so I have lots of brain candy to occupy me. I put a call into P & D. Not because I need comforting, but because if I need it later, I won’t have the strength to call.

That’s kind of the point of this post. Tell the story now, before it becomes too hard to tell.

Shit. I’m tearing up. Gotta go.

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