suckerpunch

falling in love is messed up. or, rather, getting over being in love with someone is messed up. maybe it's easier when you don't have to see the person pretty much every day, and interact with them fairly closely a few times a week. but doing it this way is a wonderkiller* for sure.

most days mr m doesn't even blip my radar. i see him and it's no big deal. unless i see him, i don't think about him. which is the way i like it, really. i'd like to get through my days and not think about him, period.

then there are days like today when i notice that he's got a new wedding ring. i commented on the fact that i noticed and asked if he got a new wife, too. he said no, to my disappointment. frankly i'd have more respect for him if he had, but that's beside the point. it's kind of like being suckerpunched to the gut - all the bad feelings come rushing back and i'm struggling to maintain a professional demeanour. i finished our meeting, left him with some action items, and went and sat on the rock outside to collected my emotions and put my mask back on.

then, then, (and these are the days i like the best) there are moments when i'm standing on the edge of a mosh pit, surrounded by thrashing sweaty testosterone driven male bodies pushing and pounding against each other, thanking all the gods that we didn't end up together, cause i guarantee that i would be nowhere near that exact spot if we'd ended up together. see, he hated it when i went out - he was jealous and suspicious and eventually (cause i'm that kind of person) i would have just stopped going doing it 'cause *i* hate to upset the people i care about. eventually the fun part of me would be curled up into a little ball in my belly and i wouldn't even know who i was anymore - i wouldn't even like myself anymore - i wouldn't even *be* myself anymore.

but today i feel like i got suckerpunched in the stomach. the only person who's *ever* told me they wanted to marry me and take care of me forever is wearing a new wedding ring like 3 months after the last time he slept with me. so i'm going to go to bed and lie in the dark and NOT cry 'cause i won't give him that satisfaction. no, instead i'm going to close my eyes and remember what it felt like to ride the push and pull of the crowd; to hear the music pounding the walls; to feel the bass against my chest beating beating with my heart, beating my heart back to life. 'cause that's where i belong.






*i stole that term from pamie