currylove

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Ok, my Dad is so cute. I know that’s in the title, but I cannot reiterate it enough.

It’s his birthday today, so I called to say happy birthday this morning and he goes, as usual, “Where are you??” and I said, “At work, Daddy. Where else would I be?”

He says, ‘Oh, I thought maybe you took the day off since it’s my birthday. Tell your work you’re coming home.”

I got the giggles and THEN he asks, “So, how do you reply on facebook? Every time I try, I just ‘like’ something.”

HAHAHAHAHAHA.

He turned another year older and he’s facebooking and skyping and as young as ever. Love it. 🙂

 

 

 

 

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Last year at this time, I was nervously sitting on a plane next to a half-naked Russian, on my way to Edinburgh. I didn’t know if British would remember to come get me or what I was getting myself into.

This year, I left work, got about two blocks, heard a “thump…thump…thump” as I drove and realized there was a nail in my tire. I sat at the gas station waiting for my roadside assistance and bought a lottery ticket while I was there. (Wouldn’t that be an even better story for next year??? Keep your fingers crossed.) And then went to the mall to spend money I shouldn’t be spending. I just didn’t want to come home and be alone.

I hate that I still open my email and sometimes, out of nowhere, I get this thought that I’ll have an email from him. Spoiler alert: I never do. It’s now a year to the day of the only time we ever met. He never put the effort or time in to coming here – and that still hurts, a lot, mostly because it’s a reminder of what an idiot I was. Possibly still am.

He left me with so much doubt about myself – Why wasn’t I good enough for him? Why didn’t he love me enough? What was missing in me that he would rather end it on Facebook than try to make it work? Why didn’t he want to give us a second chance?

And I know that it was never me… it was always his issues, and nothing I could’ve said or done would’ve changed any of that. And I know that if we’d stayed together beyond last Christmas, the outcome was going to be the same, just delayed and more hurtful. He had given me enough signs and flat out told me things that I chose to ignore because I didn’t want to believe him. I wanted to believe I was different, stupid girl that I am. UGH.

Honestly though, I don’t think I’m crying over him anymore. It’s everything else. It’s a year later and NOTHING is fucking different, except we’re not together. But, given that we were never really together, even that’s not so different. I haven’t met anyone new that I’ve sparked with. My job hasn’t turned out the way I thought it would. I am completely underwater on the mortgage for my place. (I actually just wrote out my property-tax check…. it’s so devalued, it’s worth less than a Port-a-Potty. Fucking awesome.)

I have never felt so stagnant in my life and it’s killing me. I look at my friends who are married and raising their kids and I’m nowhere near being in the same place. 30. My magic number had been 30: Married, 3 kids, great job. All by 30. Nope. Didn’t happen.

But, even with all of that, I know I don’t have it bad. At all. My job, regardless of how I feel about it, more than pays my bills and takes me to exotic destinations that I would have never otherwise seen. My friends, who I love, listen to me and put up with my bullshit and are amazing. My family, who drive me nuts in the best possible way, loves me and wants the best for me. I have more than a lot of people ever do and ever will.

When I was waiting for the auto-repair guy, I watched a man – very skinny, 80’s looking jeans that were barely staying up, a strange “crop-top” button down shirt that seemed like it was for a kid, big bushy hair in a ponytail, and a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. I decided in the 3 seconds that I watched him that he’s a meth-addict. He went in and I was curious to see what he would buy… nothing. He came out with a black bag, some papers, and then went through the trash and left.

So fuck it…  At least I’m not going through trash for food, or money or anything else.

But still, this is how I feel for now (and here’s hoping something changes, soon):

 

Who knew I’d blog about Chili’s two days in a row. But after hearing that awesome lunch date proposal on Saturday night, it’s kind of all I’ve been craving – so I went today and paid for my own lunch – which, how was it freaking $14 after drink, meal, tax and tip? WTF. Maybe that guy isn’t going to get off so cheap after all. I mean, I’m assuming he’ll spring for dessert too if he wants any type of action.

Anyway – this outing reminded me of the last time I went to Chili’s, which was back in December. It was pouring rain that day and I was embroiled in the end of my relationship with stupid British, and all I did was cry.  Just cry and cry and cry and cry some more. The kind of crying that you can’t really stop, even though it’s super embarrassing. I also cried on an international flight, in a hotel room in Tanzania, in my cube at work, in friends’ cubes, in friends’ offices in the same building, in friends’ offices in different buildings, in a Whole Foods and in a Thai restaurant – awesome.

My poor friend (who’s reading this – thanks!!) who was with me for lunch that day couldn’t say anything to make it better and I couldn’t even explain WHY I was crying so much except for blubbering out “I love him and how could he end it on facebook and I still want to be with him and it’s not fair and why doesn’t he want me and I LOOOOOOOOOOOOVE HIMMMMMMMMM” in an endless loop and then go back into a sort of quiet internal wailing that only expresses itself with non-stop tears and is interspersed with those hiccups you get from all of it.

SO… Since I couldn’t really read the menu due to the wetness in my eyes, I just asked the waitress if any of their lunch specials were vegetarian, which they were not. She said they could go ahead and do a couple of substitutions and make one of the platters veggie-friendly, and in my ridiculously upset state and not really caring and just wanting her to leave so I could get back to my crying in front of my friend only, I said sure, that sounds fine and just ordered whatever she said.

Imagine my surprise when my meal shows up and I have exactly two salads. One big salad and one small side salad. WHAT THE FUCK AM I GOING TO DO WITH TWO SALADS!?!?!? Who needs that much roughage?!?! I stopped crying long enough to look at my friend and ask, “What the hell did I order? Why are there two salads on this plate? Didn’t I get a sandwich? Why would she think I want two salads, that are only different by dressing????”

I ate approximately 3 bites of one of them and that was it, went back to my crying. And I remember being annoyed then too, because it cost me like $10. WTF, Chili’s.

It’s been 6 weeks since British passive aggressively “ended” things on facebook chat. I hadn’t reached out at all since he said “I don’t want this to end. Talk to you soon. xxx”. That changed this morning.

I was on facebook and he popped up as available. So after some deliberation and a bit of a queasy stomach, I im’ed him: “Hi… Happy New Year.”  Yeah, it’s February but since we last chatted in December, it seemed appropriate… and it took me about 3 minutes to come up with that poetry. He didn’t write back right away and I actually thought he wasn’t going to. I didn’t cry but was super sad. Turned out my chat was having issues as I’d missed an IM from another friend and him.

His response was: “Hi. How are you”…  that’s what I waited 6 weeks to hear? What the fuck. Seriously… He’s always disappointing me.

I haven’t written back yet, partly because I don’t know the answer. Do I tell the truth (which I always have with him) and say that I’m heartbroken? That I still cry but it’s not as often? That I still think of him? That I am still hurt – maybe more so by how he ended things than that they actually ended? That I’m embarrassed as a 34 year old woman to say that I got dumped on fucking facebook chat? That I’m proud of myself for holding out 6 weeks before I contacted him? That I miss him?

But the thing is, I don’t know if I miss him anymore. I want to say it but I don’t know if I mean it. I don’t miss his broken promises. I don’t miss him ignoring my calls. I don’t miss him treating me like shit and me putting up with it. I don’t miss  him calling back when he decides he’s ready, giving  excuses as to why he couldn’t do it earlier. I don’t miss feeling pathetic about hoping he’d call or email. I don’t miss feeling sad when he didn’t do those things at all. I don’t miss wondering if he’s thinking about me. I don’t miss the anger and hurt I felt when I realized he had time to call everyone but me when he got back from Africa. I don’t miss the pain of realizing he was done and he just didn’t have the balls to say it.

So… how am I? I guess the truthful answer is “better off,” and I’m getting closer to accepting that.

 

 

It’s been one month since British ended things on facebook.

I haven’t reached out to him since he last said “Talk to you soon” and he hasn’t called/emailed/txted me either. I want to tell him I miss him, that I still think of him *all the time*, but I know I shouldn’t. I try to focus on the bad instead of the good, and really, there was far more bad than good. I cried over him so much, it’s embarrassing. For the approximate year we talked, I think we had about 3 months and 5 days (those 5 days were when I was in Edinburgh) of “really really good” – the rest of it was excuses and possible lies and me crying over a boy who said he loved me but never showed me he loved me.

He didn’t break up with his girlfriend like he said he would. In fact, I have no doubt that if I hadn’t booked my tickets to visit him, they’d still be miserably together (miserable according to him, of course). He said he would look for tickets as soon as  the cast came off his wrist. That was March 2011. That didn’t happen. He actually had even told me that he’d talked to doctor about splitting the cast early, if need be, so he could travel to see me.  Clearly, that never happened either. Then he had to get through physio, then he had no money, then he still had a girlfriend. He said he would ask his mom/sister if I could come as his guest to his sister’s wedding… when I booked my tickets, I was leaving a week before her wedding was to happen. Not a peep to say I should come later so I could go as his guest.  Not one word about taking me, even though we’d talked about it. I was so blinded by my ridiculous love for him, I couldn’t see what was right in front of me.

As much as he was a smooth-talking, British-accented asshole, I was a fucking idiot. Just massively stupid. Everyone had told me to end things with him, put him on the back burner, stop loving him the way I did… and I couldn’t. I just couldn’t and now I’m paying for it with my tears and wasted time.

I want to scream at him and tell him he’ll never do better than me. He’ll never meet someone like me again. That he threw away what could’ve been a lifetime of happiness because he’s such a scared little boy. But the thing is, he doesn’t care about any of that, or me, anymore. And I have to accept it. It’s hard though… because even though deep-down I know it’s not really about me — it’s about him and his issues — it is very hard not to wonder why I wasn’t good enough for him, why he didn’t want to try to work things out, why he said he loved me but didn’t mean it.

I also want to yell super mean things to him, like: “Fuck yourself, Fatty! Suck your own man-tits from now on!!”  Haha. I know that’s awful, and he was sensitive about his weight gain, but seriously. The boy had fucking moobs and I didn’t say anything. More than a mouthful, you know? And again. I didn’t care. I loved him.  He turned me on more than anyone else ever has. I was SO attracted to him and cannot explain that either.

I regret letting things get to where they did. I had always told him that if it was just about the sex, we could’ve kept things light/easy and with no feelings involved. He always responded that it wasn’t just sex for him, that wasn’t why he wanted to talk to me, see me, be with me. And yet, again, he really did nothing to make any of that happen. I wish we’d stayed just ‘facebook friends’ – occasional emails about life, working in Africa, working in public health… it would have saved me an emotional roller-coaster for a year. Hopefully, one day, I’ll look back at this relationship and be able to see what it did for me, both good and bad, but since it’s only been one month, it’s hard to do that right now without so much hurt/anger/love that still exists within me for this stupid boy.

We started on Facebook… I guess it’s only fitting we ended there.

The beginning was innocent… In June 2010, I thought I was just adding a cute boy I’d met on a flight.  I thought at the very most, if I was ever in England/Scotland/Somewhere-land, we could meet up for a pint or two. I didn’t know I had ‘snuggled up’ to him ‘mid-flight’ (his words). I didn’t know he’d restrained himself from kissing my forehead as I slept on him. I didn’t think we’d chat monthly, then weekly, then daily, then back to weekly and then not at all, over the course of a year. I didn’t know that when I told him I had a naughty dream about him in January 2011 that it would lead to him admitting the same thing, and that would lead to us being more open and that would lead to us falling in love. And I didn’t know that by Christmas 2011, he’d be done with me and not have the balls to tell me at least on the phone – and that he would use FB chat to tell me he didn’t want me anymore, but not actually do anything about it.

He broke my heart. And he did it on chat so he wouldn’t have to hear me cry or beg or say that I love him. He didn’t want to deal with me anymore and used the easiest way out that he had. I have no respect for that — all I ever asked was for honesty. That’s all I wanted, the whole time, and it was the one thing I never got. But, I guess that’s my fault – how could a boy who fell in love with someone while he still had a girlfriend be honest about anything? And how could I have been stupid enough to expect it?

When we first got serious we would have discussions about the future and in the near immediate future, I would ask him to not be with other girls – and I would feel bad, because I was nothing to him – I wasn’t his girlfriend, he had one of those. I wasn’t his mistress, we weren’t in the same city. I was nothing definable… and yet it was always him, when I tried to hold back, who would say, “Aren’t we past that? Don’t you know how I feel?”  Every time I tried to be realistic in my expectations, he would tell me exactly what I wanted to hear – “I don’t want you to be with anyone else either. I love you only, I don’t want to be with her.”  Every fucking time. I would try to temper what I requested from him, and he would always make it seem I didn’t have to. Somewhere near the beginning, I told him we didn’t have to chat everyday, he had the option to quit —  his exact statement was: “Quitting’s not an option. I’m totally in awe of you.”  In awe of me. How did I not see through the utter bullshit? I guess I didn’t want to. It was easy to believe what he said and he was excused from having to prove it, since we lived an ocean apart.

He had told me in April that he told his mom about me, and that she was excited and hopeful for us, and he said she was a romantic at heart who was rooting for us to be together, especially after hearing how we met. And so when I visited, in September, I asked him if he told her I was coming and he said, “No, why would I have done that?” It’s like he didn’t even remember what he’d said to me. Again, I didn’t push it – I didn’t say anything to contradict him.

He started to get snappy with me on chat during his two-month stint in Africa (Sept/Oct 2011), towards the second month. I excused that too – he’s tired, he’s cranky, he’s upset about work, etc etc etc. He didn’t even have to make the excuses, I made them for him. I couldn’t say anything right… whatever I wrote was wrong and he made sure to correct it. Whatever I asked about was dismissed, and again, I didn’t push things because I didn’t want to upset him even more. I figured it was his situation that was making him upset, not necessarily me or ‘us’… I was wrong.

I *guessed* things were over when he got back from Africa and he didn’t call to tell me. I *knew* things were over when I went to Tanzania and he didn’t email. I knew he was done and being a coward. And I cried and wailed and felt my heart break a thousand times over when I thought of him and every dream I’d had that wouldn’t come true. When I got back and caught him on chat the Tuesday before christmas and he said he would call that night, I *knew* it was a lie. But I still hoped I was wrong… I wasn’t.

Wednesday when we chatted it took all of 1 minute for him to start breaking things off: “You deserve better, I can’t give you what you want or what you need, I’m just being an asshole to you and treating you so badly and it makes me feel like shit about myself”… And I begged him to stop writing those things and I asked him: “Are you really ending this on fucking facebook chat?” and he said no, that wasn’t his ‘intent’ – he just wanted me to know how dark he was feeling still.   So, very clearly I asked if he wanted me to end things, like he waited for his girlfriend to do – and he said no, he didn’t want that. And I asked him if he had thought when I was in Tanzania and we didn’t chat for two weeks, if he thought we were done – and he said yes, he did. And I asked, ‘So that was just okay with you then, that we’d never talk again?’ And he said, “no, but i thought i deserved it’.   I asked him again if he was over this all, and he said “In the mentality I am currently in I dont want to end anything then get into a lighter mood in a few weeks and regret it all.”  Passive aggressive dickhead.

Three times I asked if he wanted me to end this relationship – each time his answer was no. He said he thought I was brilliant, that that had never been in question. I asked him, at the end of the chat, if I was ‘forcing him to stay in this relationship’ and he said no. And I asked him again, to tell me honestly, if he wanted to finish this and he said, “I’ve answered you honestly three times already.”

And yet here we are, two weeks after that, and not a call or a text or an email or a FB message or anything from him. I will never understand why he lied… I gave him every out he could’ve ever asked for, from the very beginning. I had been SO honest about what I wanted from him, and he played along and told me what I wanted to hear. I told him this was serious for me, he said it was for him too. He said he was smitten with me from the beginning and that he’d never felt that way about anyone before. We both worried about falling for the idea of each other, instead of the actual person, and we both admitted we didn’t think it was the ‘idea’ of each other.  I made deadlines for myself too – if he didn’t end things in April with his girlfriend, I wouldn’t talk to him anymore. And April came and went, and I didn’t stop talking to him. And then it was the end of June. And then it got pushed to the end of July… and then, eventually, the choice was taken away from me.

I have to believe he meant some of it, otherwise I’ll be even more upset. I have to believe he loved me… When I was visiting him, he was holding me one night, very close to him, tightly and sweetly, and in my head I thought to myself “Please say I love you, please say I love you”… and he did, as if he read my mind, say “I love you” with so much conviction – like it was choked up inside him and it was all he could do to get it out.

But none of that matters now. They’re just memories that hurt – I had a glimpse of what life may have been like with him, and I really liked what I saw. Or, at least, what I chose to focus on. I know I ignored and excused so much of his actual behavior, and I cannot explain why. I have no clue why I let things play out the way they did. I don’t know why I believed everything he said – like he would visit me here.  I so stupidly believed that he would come, I dvr’ed shows for him that I know he watches. I am so embarrassed to admit that. I deleted them this past weekend, but still. How much ridiculous hope did I have in this boy who had never even proved himself? What is wrong with me???

I looked at his FB page today – first time in weeks. He has an iphone now – a phone that calls, texts, skypes, fb’s… all at the touch of a button. And I still haven’t heard from him.  The funny thing was, someone asked if it was a christmas present and he wrote, ‘nobody likes me that much to get such an extravagant gift’… but I did. I would’ve. I took him gifts when I visited him and I wonder if he uses them or thinks about me when he sees them. I sent him a Christmas card I specifically bought for him in Tanzania (before it all ended) and I wonder if he liked it and what he thought of it. I wonder if he thinks about me, if he misses chatting … If he ever really loved me.  I don’t understand what he got out of any of this … if I just stroked his ego, if it was just fun for him to make someone fall in love, if the anticipation of seeing me again was enough to sustain us for months, and when that was over, he got bored with the reality of it. I don’t know. I will never know.

All I know is that we started, continued and ended on facebook. I guess it’s not fb’s fault he used it to end things with me… it’s his, really, for being a fucking pussy.


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