Tag Archives: grief

On the Head of a Pin

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I scroll through the online personal ads – bad photos of goofy looking guys, bald or baseball capped, a little extra padding or a bathroom mirror picture of their ripped abs.  I pass by stupid screen names like redsoxfan or lover4U or even lickuatthey.  Profiles that are as interesting as the back of a shampoo bottle – I’m a basic guy,  I’m just an ordinary guy, I guess you could say I’m an average guy.  I like sports and John Grisham novels. These tidbits are followed by confessions that they are stooping so low by going online – “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” “We can tell our friends we met somewhere else.” Get over it!

I turn the computer off in disgust.  Is this really what he wanted?  I know he’s on this site, I know he’s looking, but what does he think he’ll find here?  I’ve been there – one too many times. There’s a lot of cute girls on this site. I’ve scrolled through them, picking out the ones I think he’d like.  Cute, funny, interesting girls.  Maybe he’s already found someone cuter and smarter and more adorable.  I, somehow, need to find peace with it.

Regardless of what he’s doing, I wonder why I spend time looking for myself.  I’m receiving five to ten emails a week.  Most don’t interest me (I guess my profile says I respond “selectively”) and the ones that do, well, our “conversations” seem to go nowhere.  I know I shouldn’t be out there yet.  I know I should be healing, working on myself, fixing what’s broken.  But I miss being part of a couple; I miss sharing private jokes, talking over my day, cooking dinner for a table for two, sharing a bed, sharing a morning.  The house is too quiet.

I just want to shut myself down – from wanting a relationship, from looking for a man, from searching for someone who loves me.  The old adage goes, “you’ll find somebody when you stop looking.” That’s Bullshit.  I’ve tried that, too.  I’ve basically been out there for 29 years – I know what’s out there, I’ve seen what’s out there, I know how slim my chances are of finding someone for me – not for you, not for him, but for me.  What I’m looking for could sit on the head of a pin.

I thought I finally found him.  I was wrong.

It hurts when I do this! – Then stop doing that!

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This weekend was a low – worse than the first one without you.  I’m not sure why – maybe because I’m due to start my period or maybe because it has been two months, or maybe it’s just because of the rain (I loved listening to the rain wrapped in your arms) – or just my lack of sleep last night.

It started last evening.  I went to the gastropub, drank a glass of wine and ate some short rib tacos, my first meal of the day.  No one talked to me.  The wine went straight to my head – I guess that’s what happens when you don’t eat all day.  My first desire, upon leaving the bar, was to drunken dial you.  I wanted to tell you  that I missed you still and ask you how you cannot miss me.  I wanted to be in your arms again. I stopped myself.

This morning, it began with a short cry during my walk and quickly crumbled into despair.  I’ve been crying all day. I cannot stop – I couldn’t even go out because I couldn’t hold back the tears.  I un-hid your profile again to look at it.  It didn’t tell me anything.  I hid it back immediately afterwards.  I saw photos of you on Facebook – playing with the band. You look so good with your new haircut.  Are you losing weight, too?  You look as good to me as you did on our second date, waiting for me outside the restaurant – I fell for you right then. I took the freeway to your town in the afternoon.  That’s the first time I’ve done that.  Yes, I’ve been “searching” for you.  I know I’m not supposed to, but I’ve lost all perspective this weekend. I’m a mess tonight.

I miss you.  I had been waiting for you for so long and I finally found you, and I was so happy with you – and you don’t want me.  I never expected that. I don’t want anyone else – I don’t even want to look.  I know you can’t save me – that you won’t save me,  that I have to save myself.  I am lost.

STATS:

Days since I’ve contacted my ex:  20 days

Days since I’ve searched for my ex: 0 days (relapse)

What I am thankful for: iBooks.