I'm Not Gonna Crack
What with working, spending the rest of my time packing and preparing, and still more of my time having patience-trying conversations with the ex, I'm worn out.
I hate those conversations!
If you've ever broken up with someone you're bound to have had at least one yourself. You know the ones where each person dredges up all the crap that they put up with for the last such-and-such amount of time (in our case it was six years).
You point out all the ways they failed you, disappointed you, pissed you off, and were totally unworthy of you. Then you have to hear about all the things you did wrong.
You'd think getting all that off your chest would make you feel better, but it doesn't. And hearing all the crap that you did (or they percieve you did, 'cause it's all about perception, after all) makes you feel like something on the bottom of someone's shoe.
It's exausting, headache-inducing, and doesn't do anyone any good. I reccomend avoiding such confrontations whenever possible.
I did manage to go out for a little bit on Saturday evening for Happy Hour.
I wasn't looking for a trick or a potential new boyfriend or anything. I just needed to get out of the house for awhile and clear my head.
I was feeling kind of low.
Six years down the drain. It makes you feel like such a failure.
Then on my way to the bar I got a message on my cell phone.
From: TonyA message from Tony! YAY!
Jimmy . . . I wish I could give you a hug or buy you an ice cream or whatever would make you feel good for at least a few minutes.
So I texted back:
To: TonyIt's amazing what a little thing like that can do to brighten your day.
You just did, Tony. Thanks! :)
Instead of (probably) crying in my beer (or in this case my Jack Daniel's and Coke) about how much my life sucks, I had some good conversations and a decent time.
Thanks, Tony. I needed that!
I haven't told my Mom about the break up yet. As a matter of fact, I've been avoiding her calls.
Why, you ask?
Well for starters the conversation would start with me telling her everything that's going on, and end with me crying and sobbing incoherently.
(Crying to Mommy at my age? Pathetic, I know.)
Second, she's just begun to accept G. as a part of my life, and as a part of her life, even though they've never met.
"How's that son-in-law of mine doing?" she'll say, "And how's my little grandson (Rico)?"
She was planning a trip down here around the end next month and was going to stay in the spare room.
That's all off at this point. -- I won't even be living here then.
One of the things I hate the most is being the bearer of bad news. That goes double if it's about me.
I suppose I have to tell her eventually, so I might as well stop putting off the inevitable.
I'll bite the bullet and call her later tonight.
So, that's all that's going on. I'm actually feeling quite optimistic about everything. Like everything's going to be OK.
It's not the end of the world. Nobody died or anything.
I'm totally not interested in sex, or tricking, or finding a boyfriend, though, which is a total surprise. You'd think that after six years I'd be itching to get right back into the action, but that's the last thing on my mind. The desire just isn't there.
Oh, I'm sure it'll happen eventually, just not right now.
Sorry if this post was depressing. Life's not always sunshine, lollipops and rainbows, though.
More later as it happens.
P.S. Thanks, also, to all of you who sent emails and left encouraging comments. I appriciate it more than I can say.
Thanks again! :)