Last night I didn’t really feel like doing much. I stopped to pick up dinner and came in to eat it. I decided to plug in my neglected iPod and give it a listen. I couldn’t deal with the shuffling of 10,000 songs so I looked at my playlists and chose one from fall 2009.
And suddenly this feeling hit me. It was weird. Clearly this was a mix of mildly lovelorn to moderately angry songs to frame the six month period where I didn’t talk to The Friend.
It was a hard fall. I did anything..and I mean anything to keep myself from calling and texting him. I went to wine nights and watched tv shows I didn’t care about. I hid my phone, I went to bed at 7pm sometimes to avoid it. I sat silently through a football game in Gainesville in hopes that he wouldn’t spot me literally two rows behind him. I was on a mission to heal my heart.
And it worked. Sort of. It worked in the sense that I can talk to him without getting into an argument. I can sleep with him without mentally falling to pieces. And I can go a few months without seeing or hearing from someone who I literally spoke to at least three times daily. I don’t know why I gave in a saw him a few times in 2010, but I did.
Listening to the playlist made me sort of sad. Mostly I was sad that I didn’t even remember that this playlist was so vital to my life. I didn’t remember the fall or the avoidance or the pain. Which on the surface is good. But being truthful, in 2010 I slid back on that avoidance thing.
It’s been 84 days since I’ve “seen him”. Not that I’m counting or anything, but that’s 2 months and 23 days. I didn’t blog about our last encounter because I felt stupid that I gave in so soon after I made that promise to try to rid my relationship-life of unnecessary clutter. And because I’m 99% sure he reads this blog..hey Friend.. and because I technically spoke to him on the phone earlier this month, and did post about that.. but for some reason I don’t consider that Friend the same as this Friend. But they’re the same person. Anyway…
The urge to text was strong last night. So I hid my phone and went to bed and fell asleep feeling stupid for being twenty *cough* and hiding my phone from myself…sober…to avoid a boy…
And I woke up thinking. “Well that wasn’t so bad, now, was it?” and planned to blog here about my conquering of the evening, and lament to you all the struggle that i face..and to ponder just how long it will take me to forget him entirely. But I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to hide my phone again.
But before I could get my purple laptop out…I ran to the grocery store. Afterall, we were expecting a blizzard this morning, and I couldn’t be snowed in.
And on my way home from the store…my phone buzzed with an email. And it was him. Just checking on me.
A short and sweet three line composition asking about my status, since I hadn’t contacted him after our brief phone call. And he called me by my pet name, and I’m sure if he could have virtually ruffled my blonde hair and poked my side, he would have. It was carefully crafted, I could tell. I figured he sat around debating the format for a while. It called me by name, contained a dash, and didn’t sign his name because, well, he’s never really known how to do that in an email. Intials? Full name?
My mind immediately romanticized the fact that our breaking points are the same. 84 days this time. I lasted long enough again. He wondered about me. Maybe he wants to see me. Maybe he’s coming to see me.
But it’s not like that. I wrote a short message of pleasantries back; he emailed again, and my email of queries went unanswered. As usual.
But the damage is done. My psyche is stirred. The same cycle starts over of me wanting, wondering.