He washed his hands of me

I found this email in my sent folder just now – and read it again before deleting it permanently.  I sent this on February 7, just a week after he broke it off with me.  He never responded.

I’m still very sad and miss us terribly.  And I’m flummoxed that you didn’t try talking to me about this before ending things so abruptly.  All you would have needed to say is, “I don’t have those strong feelings for you yet” or “You need to slow this down” or “I need us to continue as we are for a while” or “I need some time on my own before getting in another serious relationship” or “I like hanging out with you, but I don’t know it will ever go further than this.” I’m just confused as to why you chose to fly the plane directly into the ground rather than talk to me.  I guess you REALLY weren’t vested in our relationship. I ‘m astonished.

J.,  I’m sorry for continuing to bother you when I’m sure you would much rather just wash your hands of me, but I’m just trying to process and understand what happened and why.

A month and a half later, I’m still dumfounded that after the time we spent together he wouldn’t have the empathy to  respond to me. I’m also pissed at myself that I said “I’m sorry,” even in this context, He fucking deserves to be “bothered” and he definitely doesn’t deserve an “I’m sorry.”

STATS:

Days since I contacted my ex:            17

Days since I’ve searched for my ex:   6 (I almost did on FB today, but I stopped myself)

What I am grateful for: the homemade vegetable and bean soup that’s waiting for me at home tonight.

Mr. “With” and Mr. “At”

“With” and “at” – simple prepositions to describe the significant disparity between two social relations. I really need no further words than “with” and “at” to clarify my position, but you may need them to understand. I have email relationships with two men who, for different reasons, are significant to me. The first is with someone who can never be more than a friend to me – no need to reiterate the reasons. We’ve been having an email conversation that feels as if it’s been uninterrupted (except for one long week) since the end of January. The words we write aren’t particularly beautiful and our lines are not rewritten numerous times to perfection, but there’s a natural flow and honesty in our communication that brings me pleasure and compels me to respond. He asks me questions, he listens to what I say and, when he thinks about me, he dashes off a quick note of little consequence telling me so – “How was your day?” In other words, he talks “with” me.

The second email relationship, and snail-mail as well, is with someone who claims to Love (with a capital “L”) me. He has convinced himself he “knows” me and he thinks he understands the words needed to win my heart. His missives are painstakingly labored works of beauty. His desire to convey deep feelings through these exquisite words makes the final product a shallow writing of pretty words – nothing more. Reworked to death, there is no intrinsic truth left in them. He has told me that he writes to me because “he has something he needs to say”, not to hear what I think or evoke a reaction. Although, at other times, he claims when I read his letters, they will “make me weep”. He has never brought tears to my eyes. He writes for himself and, consequently, rarely receives a response from me. He sends what he wants regardless of my entreaties that they are not things I desire to read – random articles from the New York Times with notes that say, “Thought of you” or “Thought you’d like this”. He doesn’t hear me say that I’m not interested. In a word, he talks “at” me.

And so, Mr. “At’s” emails have become a bore to me – something I read dispassionately and quickly delete in the “trash”, while I wait impatiently for a word from the other – anxious to discover what we will chat about today. For me, words of Truth will forever trump words of Beauty.

An Email

Here I am checking my email continually and waiting for a word from you – just like before, but it’s not like before, you are happily married now. I don’t want to mess with that. I don’t want to be “that woman”.

Why should I want more than email? This was our favored method of contact so long ago. How easily we’ve fallen back into this pattern. We didn’t coalesce outside of our emails. Nose to nose, We didn’t get along. You broke my heart. Your life isn’t something I want attached to mine now.

We chat about our daily lives, our dreams. We tell each other stories as if…as if our history isn’t what it was: We told each other “I love you”, we were passionate lovers. And now, we skirt the subject – pretend we’ve never been anything but friends who lost touch. But, I remember the truth and I know you do, too.

Does she know? Does she know we email almost daily? If it’s truly as harmless as we pretend, you could tell her.

This is dangerous, I know. I’m going to get hurt by you again. I don’t blame you. It’s my heart – always wanting the fantasy; always disappointed by reality.