I awake to a mourning dove. I don’t remember the last time I heard one – and it’s appropriate. It’s 8 am on a Saturday. I’m never awake this early on the weekend, but this weekend is different. He left me yesterday. After one year and 3 and a half months. We spent last weekend together, went to dinner, had sex, enjoyed dim-sum for breakfast and spent the day lounging on the couch. We chatted over email and text on Monday, on Tuesday and part of Wednesday, but then he never responded to my last text – I think it said “Did you ever try the Hava chips?” …and I didn’t hear from him anytime on Thursday. Friday came and I called, sensing something was wrong. We talk or email every day. My call went to voicemail. I called again a few hours later, voicemail. I emailed, no response. I finally got a call back in the afternoon. He was outside Panera, ready to order a salad. I was in the office, with the door shut. “what’s going on with you?” I asked. “I don’t have feelings for you,” he said almost that simply, “and I feel really guilty about it.” That was it. That was all he had to do to get out of “us”. No conversation, no final blowup, just a call as if he was canceling his cable service. Thanks, but I’ve decided to go with the dish instead and I feel really guilty about it.
I’m not sure why they say love resides in the heart. It’s the solar plexus. I feel it as if he took his boot and kicked me squarely in that spot. I cannot eat. I cannot stay at home – I want to go out, get my hair cut, but new clothes. The other side of me, however, wants to crawl up and cry. I didn’t know I had this many tears. They just keep coming and coming and this ache from my center just won’t let up. I can’t tell anyone yet – I’m too fragile. I suffer alone.