So after the near-euphoric high of my Madge triumph comes the low of facing up to the fact that he’s still not back. You may have twigged by now that this is because HE ISN’T COMING BACK – DUHHHHH, but I’m still nowhere near ready to contemplate that outcome yet.
And so – and it had been a while – I found myself crying on the walk home again. Brilliant. I’ve had a crappy couple of weeks at work which really hasn’t helped morale. Imagine working for an investment bank right now and picture how much fun that might be (if you don’t read the papers, here are some handy pointers). NOW, picture that at this haven of devastation and turmoil, you run the daily risk of bumping into the guy who ripped your heart out (twice, did I ever mention that before?) or of hearing from someone in an unguarded moment that the heart-ripper has a new girlfriend/wife/harem. If you lack any kind of imagination whatsoever, let me fill you in – it absolutely fucking sucks. So this has been a rough ol’ month and maybe the tears tonight are just a wholly natural reaction to things. But that doesn’t change the fact that I am sick, sick, sick of feeling this way. Every single thing that I do is still being dictated by whether or not I think it will help with the getting-him-back process. Because, as I’ve openly admitted before (so you may be bored of hearing it – if you are, no-one’s forcing you to be here. go watch one of those movies you’ve managed to steadfastly avoid so far. Seen ’em all? Go rent Tetsuo The Iron Man. Then come back and I’ll apologise to you for causing you to lose valuable hours of your life to it,) I’m only trying to get over him because I hear when you’re over them, they come back. The thing I keep (conveniently?) forgetting is that he DID come back once, but then regretted it almost immediately. So why the hell would he be back again?
But if he doesn’t, where the hell does that leave me. One of my good friends gets really angry at him that he’s left me feeling as though he was my last chance of happiness. But that’s exactly how I feel. So if he ends up with someone else, that girl takes my last chance with her. And that’s too much to take.
So I spend all my time wondering what I can do to get him back this time. But as I’ve decided to cut off all contact, it doesn’t leave me a lot of avenues to pursue! And obviously (again) I’ve done this so he misses me desperately, but then I get scared that I’m just making it easier to forget me. Or I’m scared that he’ll think I hate him and don’t ever want to hear from him, so even though he desperately wants to speak to me, he isn’t. So I toy with the idea of writing to him (Letter MkII) to say “hey, if you want to get back together, I’m listening”. But then that’s as far away from being over him as it’s possible to be, right?! I just don’t know what to do. And being permanently scared, confused and miserable is just infinitely debilitating.
The obvious answer is to get someone else, right? It would help sort out a bunch of problems: I’d lose the “last chance of happiness” fear, I’d have something/one else to think about (read: obsess over), it really might help me get on with moving on instead of waiting around in limbo. But seriously, there is no-one around! There are doom-laden articles at every turn about the forlorn state of the dating scene for the single woman over 30. The self-“help” books can be remarkably demoralising – along the lines of “hey lady, you’re not as young as you were – face it, set your sights lower and you might be in with a shot with Tubby Specserson over there. If you can fight off the other 25 desperate women who’re leaping all over him. Then consider biology – I’m not getting any younger and, if the experts are to be believed, men are conditioned to seek out younger flesh in order to guarantee the continuation of the species. THEN, just look around… Where are all these available, eligible 30-something guys? Nowhere is where. And consider the number of gorgeous, available, single women out there. The odds are stacked against us. The irony being that people always say that men age better than women. Maybe by the time they hit 60. But from 25-50 I’d say the ladies have them beat hands down…
And maybe that’s part of the point: statistically, I’ve still got a lotta years to hang around the planet and my destiny could take me in all kinds of directions. Tragic and unsuffragette as it may be however, I wanted to spend my 30s in newly-wedded bliss with someone who adored me. I certainly didn’t see myself being (nearly) 31 without so much as a hint of a boyfriend. I’m driven and motivated and goal-orientated and all that guff and he was part of my Masterplan to Live Happily Ever After (you’re reading this saying YOU WEREN’T HAPPY IN THE FIRST PLACE and I hear you, but I choose to ignore you) and now I find myself adrfit, alone and without a plan. And I don’t think that I deserve for that to happen to me (I know, I know, this is ludicrously self-indulgent but hey, it’s MY blog. There’s still time for you to go and rent Tetsuo you know…). And if I don’t deserve this, then this MUST all be happening for a reason and I just have to wait for destiny to show me the way. Come on Destiny, come and get me…
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