This week has been insane. It’s the third week of the year, and it feels like it’s gone on forever. I bumped into an Ex in town and ignored him – completely. I’d like to poof him off the face of the earth, but he did do one thing for me – he fathered my baby girl. For that, I am grateful. Beyond that, riswa!
A lot of emotions are prompted when I see or mention him. Usually, it’s murderous rage, and I felt that for some nanoseconds. But then I just walked past and went on with my day. It’s sad that people who made a baby can be like that, but ish happens, and I’m cool with it. Dirty water and bridges and *insert-appropriate-cliché*
I admit that I’m the *child* who doesn’t speak to her exes. Grown women have more sensible reactions, like torching their cars or pretending to be friendly.
*Real* women actually are friendly. In that sense, I’m only half real. I can have conversations with my other exes; conversations that involve genuine smiles and nutcrackers. To my other exes, I can actually be nice, though I do forget their birthdays. Mostly on purpose. But not this one. I’m not that grown up yet. I still want to hurt him and make him not exist. I still want him to just go away, poof, vamoose son of a…
When I got home, I thought about my latest ex, the one I’m not yet over. I wondered … if I saw him on the street, would I say hi? Would I pretend I hadn’t seen him? We haven’t talked in weeks, so I’m not sure what I’d do.
I don’t want to pretend. I like too much for that. So I did a stupid thing. I called him. I wanted him to come over. I thought we could just talk and clear things up. The trouble with this boy is he’s too easy to talk to. I end up telling him stuff I shouldn’t. Like how I almost called last night, but decided against the booty call. Instead, we talked on gmail.
[Yay for not calling, boo for the confession!]
So anyway, I talked, he listened, I ranted and threw tantrums, he stayed calm and gave advice. My eyes were red, my hanky was soaked, and I was glad he couldn’t see me. I wondered if he knew that I was crying. It was a pretty rough time for me, and I logged off mid-sentence. I just couldn’t take anymore.
I told him I wanted to lock my heart away and become an ice queen who doesn’t feel anything. I want a mask, so no one can see the real me. I want to smile with the world and learn surface talk so no one knows my heart. If they can’t see it, they can’t hurt it.
I pride myself in being real and genuine, but now, I want to play games like everyone else. I want to show them what I want them to see … instead of what I am. I want to keep them away completely. I went to bed deciding I had killed my feelings – for everyone – but I was glad we’d talked, because now, at least I can say hi on the street.
Today … and part of yesterday, I listened to Mike Dooley and laughed, because I’m full of crap. The audio gave me an exercise. It said to write three things I love about life, three things I love about myself, and three lessons I want to learn in life. Guess what was high on the list…
Stop being jealous and insecure.
If that doesn’t scream relationship, I don’t know what does. A heart like mine can’t be switched off. There’s way too much love in it. I can’t just chill the vibe. Besides, my blogging is based on TMI. Going ice queen would totally kill that. Crud.
I’m clearly still searching for my soulmate, even if I don’t believe it anymore, and as soon as I’m ready, I’ll find the one who makes my heart sing. Again. Until then, I’m a married lesbian. Period.
♫ Get out alive ♫ Three days grace ♫