Friday, March 28...8:41 p.m....40 degrees in The Chi...and everybody thinks that I, in some way or another, am unstable and having some sort of break down.
To those people, thanks for caring, but get the fuck outta my business and please, I beg of you, put the ideas that you can play shrink to rest. If you wanna really use that thinker of yours, try using some of Foucault's theories to decide what the shit I write may or may not be about.
Thanx for stopping by.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Saturday, March 27, 2010
So What Do You Want?
An old "friend" (we used to hook up until I got too interested the first time and not interested enough the second time, understand what I did there?) told me this afternoon after reading this here blog how she felt I was having some problems in life.
My bad. I never claimed all the things that I, or BostonGirl, write about are going to all be Strawberries and Lollipops. (FYI: Strawberries and Lollipops is the title of...wait a minute, you don't need to know that yet.)
The old friend told me I needed to stop thinking about my ex. I told her I hadn't in a long time. The day I wrote the post in question, was the first time since the last time I had thought about her. It's the first time in 6 months I even had a text message conversation with her. I asked her to re-read it and notice the end, where I clearly said I, Freddy in the Chi, was ready to move on with my life. Though the ex was extremely hard to get over, I did it and I am finally ready to go.
She told me that I drink to much and asked why I was taking sleeping pills. I told her the truth. I have a hard time sleeping sometimes and if there is anything I can do to help me achieve a peaceful nights slumber, it will be done. She told me she was worried about me again, and she feels like I am living an unhealthy lifestyle. I told her she didn't have to worry about me. Though the thoughts were appreciated.
So anyway, if this blog can't be my spot to get the things which drive me mad, out, where do I need to go? Am I to worry what people think of me because of the stories I write? Do I need to enroll them all in the Freddy in the Chi Writing Course to Say What He's Got to Say just so they can understand not everything written is non-fiction? This ain't the fucking Chicago Tribune or the New York Times. I don't need to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth here. I can write what I want, when I want and in any fucking way I want.
If you read this old "friend", its not directed toward you. Everybody I know who reads this blog tells me how I should handle this, that and the other thing. Guess what? I really don't care how they think I should handle my life.
If I wanna lie on my kitchen floor naked on a Sunday afternoon and throw darts at the ceiling, I'm gonna do it. If I wanna hop a train to the East Coast to go and try to meet this gorgeous little blond that I kinda, but not really, know...I'm gonna hop the fucking train and take it Eastern bound. If I wanna sleep on the side of the bed I used to sleep on while the ex was still part of my life, I'm gonna sleep there. Not because it's more comfortable than the other side, but because I don't feel like sleeping on the other side.
You did not go to school to tell me what is wrong with me. And the cocksuckers who did go to school to tell me that is wrong with me have never guessed right. They've told me it's this, that and the other thing...prescribed these meds, those meds and them meds...all of which haven't done a fucking thing.
There's just one thing I love more than anything. Well, anything beside my family. It's writing. I'll write about what I want. I'm not doing any of it to please a single person but me. Some of the stuff I write is the honest to God truth. Some of it a complete and utter bullshit. And there is even some that combines the two. If you don't like to read what I write, move to the next story.
My bad. I never claimed all the things that I, or BostonGirl, write about are going to all be Strawberries and Lollipops. (FYI: Strawberries and Lollipops is the title of...wait a minute, you don't need to know that yet.)
The old friend told me I needed to stop thinking about my ex. I told her I hadn't in a long time. The day I wrote the post in question, was the first time since the last time I had thought about her. It's the first time in 6 months I even had a text message conversation with her. I asked her to re-read it and notice the end, where I clearly said I, Freddy in the Chi, was ready to move on with my life. Though the ex was extremely hard to get over, I did it and I am finally ready to go.
She told me that I drink to much and asked why I was taking sleeping pills. I told her the truth. I have a hard time sleeping sometimes and if there is anything I can do to help me achieve a peaceful nights slumber, it will be done. She told me she was worried about me again, and she feels like I am living an unhealthy lifestyle. I told her she didn't have to worry about me. Though the thoughts were appreciated.
So anyway, if this blog can't be my spot to get the things which drive me mad, out, where do I need to go? Am I to worry what people think of me because of the stories I write? Do I need to enroll them all in the Freddy in the Chi Writing Course to Say What He's Got to Say just so they can understand not everything written is non-fiction? This ain't the fucking Chicago Tribune or the New York Times. I don't need to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth here. I can write what I want, when I want and in any fucking way I want.
If you read this old "friend", its not directed toward you. Everybody I know who reads this blog tells me how I should handle this, that and the other thing. Guess what? I really don't care how they think I should handle my life.
If I wanna lie on my kitchen floor naked on a Sunday afternoon and throw darts at the ceiling, I'm gonna do it. If I wanna hop a train to the East Coast to go and try to meet this gorgeous little blond that I kinda, but not really, know...I'm gonna hop the fucking train and take it Eastern bound. If I wanna sleep on the side of the bed I used to sleep on while the ex was still part of my life, I'm gonna sleep there. Not because it's more comfortable than the other side, but because I don't feel like sleeping on the other side.
You did not go to school to tell me what is wrong with me. And the cocksuckers who did go to school to tell me that is wrong with me have never guessed right. They've told me it's this, that and the other thing...prescribed these meds, those meds and them meds...all of which haven't done a fucking thing.
There's just one thing I love more than anything. Well, anything beside my family. It's writing. I'll write about what I want. I'm not doing any of it to please a single person but me. Some of the stuff I write is the honest to God truth. Some of it a complete and utter bullshit. And there is even some that combines the two. If you don't like to read what I write, move to the next story.
Reconnecting the Disconnect
Freddy… need your advice on this one.
So, we talked about our situation a bit more this morning. We talked about a lot of things – good things, bad things, the way we wish it would be, and reasons why we love the way it is now. The main point that came out of the discussion, the one thing that could single-handedly end this relationship, is an issue I’m not sure how to fix. Maybe it can’t be fixed. But I need to at least try.
He doesn’t feel a physical connection between us. This is something I don’t think I’ve ever dealt with. Was I surprised to hear him say it? Not at all. I’ve felt it the past couple months, and have brought it up to him a few times. We haven’t had sex in a week and a half. I’ve felt like he doesn’t even want to touch me.
“How often do we just spontaneously make out? How often do we have sex?” He asked me this morning. “I just don’t feel it.”
I am still very physically attracted to him. But he has been shutting me down. I really don't want to lose him...
So now, we are still moving forward with this relationship and trying to work through the problems. But this is one problem I just don’t know how to solve. How do I get the “spice” back in this relationship? How do I make him want me again? Or maybe he was right when he said “some people just don’t have a connection.”
So, we talked about our situation a bit more this morning. We talked about a lot of things – good things, bad things, the way we wish it would be, and reasons why we love the way it is now. The main point that came out of the discussion, the one thing that could single-handedly end this relationship, is an issue I’m not sure how to fix. Maybe it can’t be fixed. But I need to at least try.
He doesn’t feel a physical connection between us. This is something I don’t think I’ve ever dealt with. Was I surprised to hear him say it? Not at all. I’ve felt it the past couple months, and have brought it up to him a few times. We haven’t had sex in a week and a half. I’ve felt like he doesn’t even want to touch me.
“How often do we just spontaneously make out? How often do we have sex?” He asked me this morning. “I just don’t feel it.”
I am still very physically attracted to him. But he has been shutting me down. I really don't want to lose him...
So now, we are still moving forward with this relationship and trying to work through the problems. But this is one problem I just don’t know how to solve. How do I get the “spice” back in this relationship? How do I make him want me again? Or maybe he was right when he said “some people just don’t have a connection.”
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Now What?
So I went out with my ex the other night. I worked until 6:30 or so and then met him at a dive bar down the street. He was already there when I arrived, Guinness in hand. He was just in jeans and a t-shirt, but he looked good. Things felt a little awkward at first, so I ordered a vodka-tonic to take the edge off. We had some casual conversation and started to catch up. The awkwardness was fading, but was still present. It’s strange to “catch up” with someone who was once your entire world.
It didn’t take long for him to ask why I wanted to meet up so badly. I told him the new guy and I were having some issues, but that I didn’t want to talk about it. I just wanted to have a fun night. It wouldn’t be fair to ask him what I should do with my new boyfriend, especially since they know each other. He questioned me about my new relationship throughout the night, but I kept changing the subject.
He had just come from his first physical in ten years. He told me he‘d been nervous about the appointment, since he’s just been pretty much beating his body up more and more over the years. The doctor asked him how much he drank and he responded with “You don’t want to know.” He lit up a cigarette and headed to the bar immediately after the doctor told him he needed to try to quit drinking for two weeks and quit smoking.
He told me how he had just gotten back from a week in Aruba and a week in Vegas, where he lost somewhere around $10,000. This is a bartender who typically works three nights a week.
As the night went on, I was reminded more and more of his bad qualities. His irresponsibility, his immaturity, his lack of drive or motivation to become anything more than a bartender. His drinking problems. His smoking. His complete lack of faith in God. How he drags me down in the same aspects of life where the new guy encourages, helps, and supports me. And perhaps most importantly for me… how he’ll probably never be able to pull it together enough to have a relationship with me.
We had a great night. And there are obviously still a lot of things I love about him. We shared some laughs, stories, life updates… and I am glad we got to spend that time together.
But did I get the glaring obvious answers and sense of direction I was looking for? Not at all. The only thing I may have gotten out of it is that he and I won’t work. At least not right now. But I suppose that’s something.
It didn’t take long for him to ask why I wanted to meet up so badly. I told him the new guy and I were having some issues, but that I didn’t want to talk about it. I just wanted to have a fun night. It wouldn’t be fair to ask him what I should do with my new boyfriend, especially since they know each other. He questioned me about my new relationship throughout the night, but I kept changing the subject.
He had just come from his first physical in ten years. He told me he‘d been nervous about the appointment, since he’s just been pretty much beating his body up more and more over the years. The doctor asked him how much he drank and he responded with “You don’t want to know.” He lit up a cigarette and headed to the bar immediately after the doctor told him he needed to try to quit drinking for two weeks and quit smoking.
He told me how he had just gotten back from a week in Aruba and a week in Vegas, where he lost somewhere around $10,000. This is a bartender who typically works three nights a week.
As the night went on, I was reminded more and more of his bad qualities. His irresponsibility, his immaturity, his lack of drive or motivation to become anything more than a bartender. His drinking problems. His smoking. His complete lack of faith in God. How he drags me down in the same aspects of life where the new guy encourages, helps, and supports me. And perhaps most importantly for me… how he’ll probably never be able to pull it together enough to have a relationship with me.
We had a great night. And there are obviously still a lot of things I love about him. We shared some laughs, stories, life updates… and I am glad we got to spend that time together.
But did I get the glaring obvious answers and sense of direction I was looking for? Not at all. The only thing I may have gotten out of it is that he and I won’t work. At least not right now. But I suppose that’s something.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Oh...What a Night.
*to note, i am writing this after being told stories about the events of last evening. some of this can be remembered, others, not so much. if what my friends have told me is true, which may or may not be, friends, i had one helluva night.
As I finished class yesterday afternoon, I had a feeling that something in my life was missing, but no idea what it actually was. At first I felt that it was the ex girlfriend, but convinced myself that it wasn't. Then I thought it was a regular diet that was missing from my sleep deprived life, but grabbed some taco's and changed my mind again. Was it the whiskey that I had sworn off months ago? Was it the meaningless casual sex from years past that I missed so much? Maybe it was the drugs, that I have or have not done? Quicker than a Cubs loss in a playoff game, I decided it was a combination of everything.
When I got back to the house, I opened a fresh bottle of Mountain Dew and sat looking out the window onto the city of Chicago. I grew bored and opted to take a nap, so I swallowed 2 Melatonin capsules (to help me sleep) and one Ambien (to REALLY help me sleep). Now, since I had been drinking The Dew, and we all know that the green drink is loaded with sugar and caffeine, I figured that I should take these three capsules of sleeping assistance with a half glass of Jack Daniels. May have been a bad idea.
Now, instead of falling into a deep, peaceful slumber, I decided to take a shower. And because my body temperature felt like I was in a pot at a Louisiana Crayfish Boil, the showers temperature was set to Colder than a Witches Tit and pretty much knocked all of the sleepiness of the drugs outta me.
After drying myself, and putting on some blue jeans and a white v-neck t-shirt, I started making calls to my friends to see what their plans were for the night. This guy was going to that bar. That guy was going to this bar. She was going here. She was going there. So I elected to meet one of the girls at her spot of drunkenness. When I got there, I don't remember. But she told me this morning when she called to check on me that I was more bombed last night than she has ever seen me. And that is pretty scary.
She told me that as I sat at the bar next to her, that I was throwing coasters like ninja stars at the bartender because "there are nun-chucking monkeys behind you." And when the bartender cut me off after two beers that I laughed so hard at her. So hard that I was crying and couldn't breathe. She told me that she took me outside for some fresh air and to calm me down, but I continued to laugh and I told her that I was laughing because "Ozzy Osbourne was dancing on the bar singing Crazy Train."
If she was a good friend, this might have been the point in the night that she took me back to her place, put my ass on her couch and made me fall to sleep. But she didn't. So she will not be getting a Christmas card this season.
We left that bar and walked down the street to a different bar. Upon entering, while she was showing her ID to the door guy, I bolted to the bar to try and talk with a gal that caught my attention. My friend moved as fast as she could to stop me from saying/doing anything that was going to cause problems or start trouble, but it was too late.
"Hey there, can I buy you a drink" my friend said I asked the girl at the bar. "No, you can't, I have a boyfriend" the girl responded. "Well, I have a goldfish at home" responded I, says my friend. "Excuse me? Why do I care about what you have at home" the girl asked. "Oh, I'm sorry, I thought we were talking about shit that didn't really matter." And we were off to a new place.
My friend decided that I needed some food to help and sober me up so we went to McDonalds. She says that I stood leaning, with my forehead against, the drive-thru menu sign for 10 minutes trying to read what was offered. After making a selection I stood at the voice box screaming my order at the poor lady inside. "I want two orders of oyster-crab cakes with a side of mashed sweet potatoes and creamed corn," she said I ordered before walking to the pick-up window. As we stood there waiting for our food, Theo, a mutual friend of ours who has been in love with the girl I was with since we were getting our Undergrads, walked by on the sidewalk. "Hey THEO!!! LOOK WHO I'M WITH!!!BET YOU WISH YOU WERE ME!!!I'M GONNA FUCK HER LATER!!!" my friend said I screamed. And Theo called me a motherfucker for calling him out. I told Theo that "I'M NOT A MOTHERFUCKER, I HAVEN'T SEEN YOU'RE MOM IN YEARS!!!"
About then, says my friend, the food lady was handing us our bags of grub. After opening mine to sink my teethe into the oyster-crab cakes, the mashed sweet potatoes and creamed corn, I realized that all I had was a bag of fries and a burger so I knocked on her window and simply said "HEY, MCDONALDS LADY!!!YOU MCFUCKED UP!!!"
Now, I was smashed, sure, and all kinds of messed in the head, but I still think I had my wits. My friend and I sat at a table on the outside of McDonalds to eat our burgers and try to relax. And always, I questioned how her life was going. She told me that it was a little slow in the guy department and that she hadn't had sex since Bush was president. She told me that my question to her statement might have been the funniest thing she ever did hear me say. "Well, you want me to go home with ya and welcome in the Obama Administration?"
Should make for an interesting night tonight.
As I finished class yesterday afternoon, I had a feeling that something in my life was missing, but no idea what it actually was. At first I felt that it was the ex girlfriend, but convinced myself that it wasn't. Then I thought it was a regular diet that was missing from my sleep deprived life, but grabbed some taco's and changed my mind again. Was it the whiskey that I had sworn off months ago? Was it the meaningless casual sex from years past that I missed so much? Maybe it was the drugs, that I have or have not done? Quicker than a Cubs loss in a playoff game, I decided it was a combination of everything.
When I got back to the house, I opened a fresh bottle of Mountain Dew and sat looking out the window onto the city of Chicago. I grew bored and opted to take a nap, so I swallowed 2 Melatonin capsules (to help me sleep) and one Ambien (to REALLY help me sleep). Now, since I had been drinking The Dew, and we all know that the green drink is loaded with sugar and caffeine, I figured that I should take these three capsules of sleeping assistance with a half glass of Jack Daniels. May have been a bad idea.
Now, instead of falling into a deep, peaceful slumber, I decided to take a shower. And because my body temperature felt like I was in a pot at a Louisiana Crayfish Boil, the showers temperature was set to Colder than a Witches Tit and pretty much knocked all of the sleepiness of the drugs outta me.
After drying myself, and putting on some blue jeans and a white v-neck t-shirt, I started making calls to my friends to see what their plans were for the night. This guy was going to that bar. That guy was going to this bar. She was going here. She was going there. So I elected to meet one of the girls at her spot of drunkenness. When I got there, I don't remember. But she told me this morning when she called to check on me that I was more bombed last night than she has ever seen me. And that is pretty scary.
She told me that as I sat at the bar next to her, that I was throwing coasters like ninja stars at the bartender because "there are nun-chucking monkeys behind you." And when the bartender cut me off after two beers that I laughed so hard at her. So hard that I was crying and couldn't breathe. She told me that she took me outside for some fresh air and to calm me down, but I continued to laugh and I told her that I was laughing because "Ozzy Osbourne was dancing on the bar singing Crazy Train."
If she was a good friend, this might have been the point in the night that she took me back to her place, put my ass on her couch and made me fall to sleep. But she didn't. So she will not be getting a Christmas card this season.
We left that bar and walked down the street to a different bar. Upon entering, while she was showing her ID to the door guy, I bolted to the bar to try and talk with a gal that caught my attention. My friend moved as fast as she could to stop me from saying/doing anything that was going to cause problems or start trouble, but it was too late.
"Hey there, can I buy you a drink" my friend said I asked the girl at the bar. "No, you can't, I have a boyfriend" the girl responded. "Well, I have a goldfish at home" responded I, says my friend. "Excuse me? Why do I care about what you have at home" the girl asked. "Oh, I'm sorry, I thought we were talking about shit that didn't really matter." And we were off to a new place.
My friend decided that I needed some food to help and sober me up so we went to McDonalds. She says that I stood leaning, with my forehead against, the drive-thru menu sign for 10 minutes trying to read what was offered. After making a selection I stood at the voice box screaming my order at the poor lady inside. "I want two orders of oyster-crab cakes with a side of mashed sweet potatoes and creamed corn," she said I ordered before walking to the pick-up window. As we stood there waiting for our food, Theo, a mutual friend of ours who has been in love with the girl I was with since we were getting our Undergrads, walked by on the sidewalk. "Hey THEO!!! LOOK WHO I'M WITH!!!BET YOU WISH YOU WERE ME!!!I'M GONNA FUCK HER LATER!!!" my friend said I screamed. And Theo called me a motherfucker for calling him out. I told Theo that "I'M NOT A MOTHERFUCKER, I HAVEN'T SEEN YOU'RE MOM IN YEARS!!!"
About then, says my friend, the food lady was handing us our bags of grub. After opening mine to sink my teethe into the oyster-crab cakes, the mashed sweet potatoes and creamed corn, I realized that all I had was a bag of fries and a burger so I knocked on her window and simply said "HEY, MCDONALDS LADY!!!YOU MCFUCKED UP!!!"
Now, I was smashed, sure, and all kinds of messed in the head, but I still think I had my wits. My friend and I sat at a table on the outside of McDonalds to eat our burgers and try to relax. And always, I questioned how her life was going. She told me that it was a little slow in the guy department and that she hadn't had sex since Bush was president. She told me that my question to her statement might have been the funniest thing she ever did hear me say. "Well, you want me to go home with ya and welcome in the Obama Administration?"
Should make for an interesting night tonight.
Monday, March 22, 2010
it's finally hit me.
i don't know why i keep doing this to myself. i thought about her today, the first time since the last time. and because i was thinking about her, i couldn't stop myself from trying to get in touch with her. and even though i knew i shouldn't have done it, the entire time i was doing it, i continued to write the text message to her.
almost seven months to the day, all the shit i've been lying to myself about has pretty much caught up to me and i don't know why.
she said she was good. which i was happy about. but i remembered all the times she wasn't. and all of those times were times when i called her mine.
most of it had to do with us; stupid fights, major fights, moronic ideas that i, or she, held about the other. but the times that had nothing to do with us as a couple really, were remembered too. like the time i sat in the waiting room to hear the results of her surgery. the time i took her to the hospital and sat with her for hours hoping to find the reason for the pain she was having. then i started to remember the really bad times, and sad to say, those seemed to outweigh the good.
but no matter how many bad memories there are, there are good ones too. and they're fucking amazing. those memories are so amazing because when we made them, we were amazing. and most of the amazing memories of the amazing times all came from the first couple months of our barley over a year relationship.
that makes me wonder this though; was the majority of our relationship complete and utter bullshit? did i, did she, did we...continue to lie to ourselves and to each other about the love that may or may not have been there? could we have been fixed? were we worth fixing? i know i loved her long after she left, but don't know when she stopped loving me or even if she has. i assume that she has, but because we haven't spoke i don't know. i'm sure she has, but what if she hasn't? what if the only reason she hasn't tried to get in touch with me is because she still loves me and is scared of a repeat of the last round? or because she is scared that talking with me again would bring back the same memories i had today, both the good and the bad?
i can't lie and say i didn't see the end coming like i have in previous posts anymore. i saw it coming. i just wanted to pretend i didn't, so i ignored it, hoping it would go away. praying it would all be fixed when i woke the next day.
but nothing worth fixing should get treatment like that. i should have dealt with it when i first saw it. maybe she wouldn't have been driven away? maybe she still would have been? but i can't change the past, and there's no point of staying in it. so i gotta move forward with a whole heart. without the love that i held for her and without the love we shared, no matter how long it actually was, hoping to find it again someday.
maybe it's because of something new in my life. maybe it's from something else. but whatever the reason, i'm ready to go.
almost seven months to the day, all the shit i've been lying to myself about has pretty much caught up to me and i don't know why.
she said she was good. which i was happy about. but i remembered all the times she wasn't. and all of those times were times when i called her mine.
most of it had to do with us; stupid fights, major fights, moronic ideas that i, or she, held about the other. but the times that had nothing to do with us as a couple really, were remembered too. like the time i sat in the waiting room to hear the results of her surgery. the time i took her to the hospital and sat with her for hours hoping to find the reason for the pain she was having. then i started to remember the really bad times, and sad to say, those seemed to outweigh the good.
but no matter how many bad memories there are, there are good ones too. and they're fucking amazing. those memories are so amazing because when we made them, we were amazing. and most of the amazing memories of the amazing times all came from the first couple months of our barley over a year relationship.
that makes me wonder this though; was the majority of our relationship complete and utter bullshit? did i, did she, did we...continue to lie to ourselves and to each other about the love that may or may not have been there? could we have been fixed? were we worth fixing? i know i loved her long after she left, but don't know when she stopped loving me or even if she has. i assume that she has, but because we haven't spoke i don't know. i'm sure she has, but what if she hasn't? what if the only reason she hasn't tried to get in touch with me is because she still loves me and is scared of a repeat of the last round? or because she is scared that talking with me again would bring back the same memories i had today, both the good and the bad?
i can't lie and say i didn't see the end coming like i have in previous posts anymore. i saw it coming. i just wanted to pretend i didn't, so i ignored it, hoping it would go away. praying it would all be fixed when i woke the next day.
but nothing worth fixing should get treatment like that. i should have dealt with it when i first saw it. maybe she wouldn't have been driven away? maybe she still would have been? but i can't change the past, and there's no point of staying in it. so i gotta move forward with a whole heart. without the love that i held for her and without the love we shared, no matter how long it actually was, hoping to find it again someday.
maybe it's because of something new in my life. maybe it's from something else. but whatever the reason, i'm ready to go.
Friday, March 19, 2010
Done thinking.
When thoughts of getting back together with my ex consumed my mind immediately after talk of a potential breakup with the new guy, I interpreted it as evidence that I should try to rekindle the flame with my old boyfriend. I thought the reason I was thinking about my ex rather than worrying about losing the man I’ve been dating for the past ten months must’ve been because I’m still in love with him and deep down, want to be with him instead.
I didn’t consider the possibility that maybe running back to my ex was just a defense mechanism. I didn’t want to have to experience another breakup, more rejection. Telling myself that I wanted this breakup too protected me from getting hurt. “It’s okay. He doesn’t want to be with me? That’s fine. I don’t want to be with him either; I’m still in love with Matt. This is actually a good thing because now I have the freedom to get him back”
The reality is, yes, I definitely still love my ex and I probably always will. And yes, I hold our relationship on a pedestal that I’m not sure any future relationship will be able to touch. And yes, our love was a very passionate love. But that doesn’t mean that we would work. And it doesn’t mean that I can’t be happy with someone else. And maybe there is something irrational, impulsive, immature about such passionate love.
And the reality is I do feel very strongly about this new guy. Until two weeks ago, I was smiling all the time because of him. I told a friend I could see myself marrying him. He is older, much more career-minded and focused than my ex, and would be a great father and husband. I shouldn’t just try to convince myself I don’t have these feelings for him just because I’m scared he’ll dump me. I must be honest with myself.
I still haven’t completely sorted out exactly how I feel or what I want, so this is my plan: I will proceed with caution in my current relationship, knowing that there’s a good chance it won’t last forever. I will just enjoy the time we have together, but try to emotionally withdraw a bit. I will casually meet with my ex to see if he provides any clarity or direction. And I will try to just let go and let things happen for themselves. Whatever is supposed to happen will happen. I’m not pushing either way.
I didn’t consider the possibility that maybe running back to my ex was just a defense mechanism. I didn’t want to have to experience another breakup, more rejection. Telling myself that I wanted this breakup too protected me from getting hurt. “It’s okay. He doesn’t want to be with me? That’s fine. I don’t want to be with him either; I’m still in love with Matt. This is actually a good thing because now I have the freedom to get him back”
The reality is, yes, I definitely still love my ex and I probably always will. And yes, I hold our relationship on a pedestal that I’m not sure any future relationship will be able to touch. And yes, our love was a very passionate love. But that doesn’t mean that we would work. And it doesn’t mean that I can’t be happy with someone else. And maybe there is something irrational, impulsive, immature about such passionate love.
And the reality is I do feel very strongly about this new guy. Until two weeks ago, I was smiling all the time because of him. I told a friend I could see myself marrying him. He is older, much more career-minded and focused than my ex, and would be a great father and husband. I shouldn’t just try to convince myself I don’t have these feelings for him just because I’m scared he’ll dump me. I must be honest with myself.
I still haven’t completely sorted out exactly how I feel or what I want, so this is my plan: I will proceed with caution in my current relationship, knowing that there’s a good chance it won’t last forever. I will just enjoy the time we have together, but try to emotionally withdraw a bit. I will casually meet with my ex to see if he provides any clarity or direction. And I will try to just let go and let things happen for themselves. Whatever is supposed to happen will happen. I’m not pushing either way.
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