I’ve put up a couple of old posts to bring things vaguely up to date. the first is what I was writing the day I got the “oops, I’m an internet retard” email from him and I never got around to letting you know how humiliated and rejected I feel. I’m sure it’s a theme I’ll return to some day, so you’re bound to get the full technicolour version someday – what a treat in store… The other explains in part why I haven’t been around so much – a pretty even split between losing the will to live due to dry sockets (Google it – and believe me, it is every but as painful as they make out) and losing the will to post because I’m spiralling so rapidly into endless self pity. We’re at the 3-month mark now and it’s STILL not getting any easier. Which bites arse.
I also went on holiday for a few days and I’m back off again in a mere matter of hours – the glamour of a 4am train to Gatwick awaits. But once I’m off that train, a week at a villa in Portugal beckons, with 2 hours of yoga a day, some ridiculously healthy food (I had to beg to be allowed occasional meat rations) and plenty of sunshine. SO my hope is that I return thin, bronzed and serene. We’ll see…
Am still enveloped in all-pervasive sense of self-pity/loathing. I managed to be genuinely LIVID with him for a good 24 hours or so last week, which again I’m sure I’ll post about imminently, but I still feel I’m taking 5 steps back for every half-step forward. I *think* he was away this week, which I only realised on thursday, whihc meant I had 3 days of needless angst that I’d run into him. SO obviously I wonder where he is and who with and why the hell my phone still isn’t ringing.
I went to a wedding yesterday. Remember weddings? Apparently a hotbed of dating possibilities (he got a date from a wedding a couple of months before we got together, so has form. damn him). Yeah, not so much. Instead, I appear to be one of the only single 30 year-olds in the western hemisphere. When did this happen???? The bride was one of 5 of us who I lived together at university. And, you’ve guessed it, now all the others are happily settled (another of them gets married in a fortnight) whereas I feel distinctly consigned to the scrapheap. The irony is, when we lived together, I had a boyfriend who adored me the entire time whereas most of them were single the entire time and LONGING for someone. I consigned the adorer to the scrapheap with the folly of youth. Them’s the breaks. I sometimes think maybe I’m living Catherine and her Destiny in reverse. So anyway, yesterday was a tough day. At one point, after darkness fell, I went and sat on a bench by myself and cried for 5 minutes in the dark. The worst part is, I am painfully aware of my own patheticness at these times, which then just makes me feel even worse! But it’s done. Another to go in a fortnight though! (At which there is apparently ONE single man for the entire event. Oh the humanity…)
Some of this sometimes makes me feel better, because his friends are even more married off than mine, and I picture him surveying congregations equally bleakly but 1) it’s MUCH easier for guys – they can just go and mine the rich seam of single 20something girls, who are far more appealing than their male equivalents at the same age and 2) Even if he does have those feelings and comes back, that means I was the booby prize in absence of an alternative. that wasn’t really how I pictured The Love Of My Life feeling about me. you know?
The other reason (oh yes, there’s more) that I’m blue is that I’m not feeling any better about life or my prospects with or without him. And I’m doing all the right things (even the books agree): I’m planning fun stuff, ESPECIALLY funs stuff that he and I wouod never have done togther, I’m getting on with work, I’m spending time with friends, I’m going out, I’ve taken up bikram, I’m trying to focus on The Bad Stuff, I’m not contacting him (and haven’t been on Facebook again since my single lapse), I’m looking GREAT (or so I keep being told – I can highly recommend the Heartbreak And Dry Sockets Diet for any girls out there who could stand to lose a few pounds. It’s a pretty tricky combination to master though, but good luck) but none of it’s working. And it’s because I’m not doing any of it for me. I’m doing all of it because This Is The Stuff You Have To Do To Move On. But I’m not doing it to move on. I’m doing it because once I move on, he’ll want me back. So I’m trying to accelerate the process so that he comes back to me. For anyone who hasn’t ever seen Swingers, well, first of all, what the hell are you doing reading this when you should be off improving your cultural awareness, then you can come back and nod appreciatively and read the below whilst stroking your beard (perhaps figuratively speaking) and muttering “There’s the rub”. For those that have seen it, rub with me now…
MATCH CUT TO:
2 EXT. “BOURGEOIS PIG” COFFEEHOUSE – COUCHES AND TABLE IN FRONT 2
WINDOW – NIGHT
ROB sits down next to Mike, pouring himself some tea.
MIKE
And what if I don’t want to give up on
her?
ROB
You don’t call.
MIKE
But you said I shouldn’t call if I
wanted to give up on her.
ROB
Right.
MIKE
So I don’t call either way.
ROB
Right.
MIKE
So what’s the difference?
ROB
The only difference between giving up and
not giving up is if you take her back
when she wants to come back. See, you
can’t do anything to make her want to
come back. You can only do things to
make her not want to come back.
MIKE
So the only difference is if I forget
about her or pretend to forget about her.
ROB
Right.
MIKE
Well that sucks.
ROB
It sucks.
MIKE
So it’s almost a retroactive decision.
So I could, like, let’s say, forget about
her and when she comes back make like I
just pretended to forget about her.
ROB
Right…or more likely the opposite.
MIKE
Right… Wait, what do you mean?
ROB
I mean first you’ll pretend not to care,
not call – whatever, and then,
eventually, you really won’t care.
MIKE
Unless she comes back first.
ROB
Ah, see, that’s the thing. Somehow they
don’t come back until you really don’t
care anymore.
MIKE
There’s the rub.
ROB
There’s the rub.
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