11:51 a.m. - 2002-08-22
pushing buttons
I laughed.
I actually laughed a bit.
It was much easier, saying what I needed to say, once I got started, than I thought it would be.
He was angry and sad and his voice wavered either of exhaustion or of being on the verge of crying, I really couldn't tell.
This has happened before. Both sides. Same story.
His mother still loves me.
He's too tired to know if he does.
This week.
All of these fingers in my brain like emotional phrenology. Tell me how I'm feeling. I'm so numb.
I feel angry and sad and hollow.
I balled up on the couch for hours and stared across the room. I didn't sleep last night. I read something the other day. Insomnia is when both sides of the pillow feel hot. Who said that? I don't know. I slapped the clock until the last possible minute, but today, I'm a live wire. I don't know what's feeding me.
He wants to see me when he comes into town.
I don't know.
- - -
This morning there was an e-mail from someone I hadn't heard from in a long time.
About November last year. We had stopped talking. Almost months at a time. Same dance. Different partner. I told him that I couldn't do it. It was all very sad. I just checked my journal archives to possibly remind me what a low point that was so that I could temper my response, if any, but I quickly realized that, I didn't even mention it.
In fact, I left out a lot actually.
I guess I spare myself some things.
Well, here it is July and here comes Mister.
The boy works like clockwork. Sometimes I think that he had set his clock by the weather.
Every winter, every summer.
Break-up. Make-up.
He thinks about me.
Yes, he thinks about me, he says.
He wants to know what I've been doing.
Fantasizing daily of gleefully kicking you in your soft male parts with steel-toed boots, comes to mind. You know, typical Thursday. But, I refrain.
And I think of asking him, "Um, you don't think that we're still together, do you?" Yeah. That happened the year before. Broke up in the winter. We began to talk again in the spring and he was completely oblivious that anything had conspired between us. I told him that I had dated other people. He looked shocked and hurt. Communication is obviously a big issue.
There are a lot of things that I could say to him.
I want to tell him that I think about him all the time. That it's still funny that I can flip on the television, see that a game's on and know exactly what he's doing.
But, I won't respond at all.
Two men. Two days. I choose neither.
It seems to be the most logical course of action at this point.
I told my friend.
I prayed to God last night. And, before you say anything, yes I do this--If he is not the one...let it lay. If he's out there...send him to me.
And then. This morning. This. This e-mail.
Yeah, God has some serious explaining to do.
