I have never been more than an occasional social smoker over the years (maybe a pack of cigarettes in my life), but I have smoked two cigarettes within the past three weeks. These two cigarettes have been signs of trauma. The first: BFD’s situation. Tonight, I felt in imminent fear for my life.

I don’t want to describe the circumstances because I may yet have to allow the legal process to work, but my life was in danger and there was no opportunity for escape. It did not last longer than 15 minutes, but it was harrowing and I made peace with the universe, drafted a simple text to my best friend W to let him know what had happened/was happening and decided not to hit send until I knew for certain that was it.

It was not, thank God.

When I was finally outside of the situation, I was completely traumatized. I still am.

I walked into the workout place and the receptionist looked at me, shaken and shaking, and I told her everything as I started to cry, as did she. I went into the hall to await my class to start and saw my buddies. I was clearly a wreck and I told them what happened, while trying to be okay with it all — and failing. I excused myself to call BFD, but I could not get him, so I texted him. His immediate reaction was to have me come over right that minute — thinking, as he always does, that sex would help me feel better. It would have, but I wanted to workout.

That was a mistake.

I was distracted and freaked out. The thing that kept me in class was the music — it was all stuff I had sent to J and it was some of my favorite stuff ever. I did what I could and just tried not to worry about it. After, I went up to J and told her because it was obvious something was very wrong with me no matter how hard I tried to hide it, and she hugged me, of course, and offered to drive me home, but I declined because I knew I was either seeing BFD or W and JF. BFD was busy, but still wanted to see me, but I knew I was better off seeing my buddies.

As I walked along, I texted LP, just to let him know what had happened. There was no response.

W and JF and I sat at a new uncrowded place with a bartender we adore and she took good care of me. I played songs I loved on the jukebox, hugged my friends tightly, and tried to relax. BFD called and had me tell him the whole tale, during which he realized how freaked out I was and how imperiled I felt my life had been. He again invited me over, and again, I declined, knowing that his time was short and I did not want to cab out to his place for myriad reasons. We discussed calendar and he mentioned that he had two friends flying in for the weekend, along with business people coming in. He seemed put out by it, annoyed.

W had to leave to see the faux-hemian gold-digger, so JF and I soldiered on to my favorite restaurant where I had some comfort food and another cocktail. After three drinks, I was a bit tipsy and chatty. We hit another bar to see a friend for his birthday and then another bar to see another friend. I had stopped drinking.

At this point, I looked at my phone and got a response from LP, making sure I was okay. I assured him I was okay, but slightly drunk, and he asked where I was, so I told him. It was nice to hear from him, even briefly.

I walked into the ladies room, in case he was going to surprise me, though i felt confident he had the kid with him. Rather than head home, we left with our two friends to hit another place as a distraction. Here is where I had a cigarette. I wanted it, in part, because it would make me feel a little worse — so I would feel something other than this disconnection. I wanted desperately to wrap my arms around someone who loves me, to fall asleep in someone’s arms, to know that I was okay and that everything would be fine.

I could have had that had it occurred to be earlier, but it didn’t and I didn’t. I did not realize how much worse I would feel until I got home.

Now, it’s 2:30 am and I have been home for at least 3 hours and I cannot sleep. I do not want to sleep. I want to vomit, of course, I want to dull my senses now that I am mostly sober, I am watching SYTYCD, sort of, and wishing that I were not alone right now.

What I realized tonight, through the haze of booze and a single, poorly smoked cigarette, is that I am loved and cared for and desired etc. The people in my life love me and they took care of me as they worried for me and watch me worry for myself.

I am a shell right now. I know it. I know tomorrow may be worse than today.

I may get past it quickly. After all, I am okay. Nothing happened. I am alive. But, that fear of imminent death . . . I don’t know that I will quickly get over it.

There are lots of things going wrong right now — romance, finis, your chance, finis, those ants that invaded my pants, finis — but, I am weirdly happy.

I have pms, I have stress and pressure, I am overworked, I am still relatively broke, and I could list all of the things that are wrong, and, ugh, single-ish, but . . . I am happy.

I feel really good in my own skin again. I could read back through my journal and find when the darkness crept in and took over, but I am not that interested in looking backward. I am looking ahead. I am living now.

I like me again. I like how my brain is working.

I just feel clear and real and solid.

I reached out to LP on Monday and we connected via text (which i not at all unusual since he was still working), though it was a little strange and strained. He said: “things are fucking miserable actually. But i am surviving. ” I told him how well things are going and he was happy for me and I added “I have missed you,” without response from him. I was a little cold, suggesting, at some point, we should meet for a drink to catch up.

I reached out to LP last night — I did something sort of strange, but well within the bounds of our relationship, as it was, and something that he would have loved a couple of weeks ago. I sent him a photo. He loves when I send him photos. Loved. I have been changing all my profile pics to a new photo from last week, so I emailed it to his phone well after work hours. No response. That’s happened before when he’s been working like mad and things were still okay. My thought was that he would get it and smile and think of me.

Who knows if that happened.

I thought I would give it a last shot because I did not feel comfortable really moving on with any ambiguity. Now, there’s not. I did what I needed to in order to move on. Now, I can accept we’re done. I am leaving it as I entered it — with warmth and love and lots of lessons learned. For that, I am grateful.

While I am sad, because really, everything about him felt so right, so fast, and I became a better girlfriend to him than I ever was to BFD, I get it and I know what more is out there and how much I do want. I know what I can tolerate and what I will never again abide. It is already impacting how I relate to BFD — from how I speak to him to how I touch him.

It will take me time to get over even the short passionate (unconsummated) affair with LP. I know that already. But even that is okay. From him, I really learned a lot about myself and about what I want and need in the future.

And, even on a very cold day, I am weirdly happy and excited to see what the future brings.

The only online purchases I am making today are for cle hours I forgot to take. I so rarely practice that I did not update my email address to one I actually check. When I rebuilt my archives and email server info late last night, I got a “you have 30 days” and a big fine email. Tomorrow is the 30th day. Oops.

It’s among the reasons I feel truly blessed. I saw it in time to fix it; I have the money now to take the classes and pay the fine. Whew.

I’ve been working my ass off for a month or more — 7 days a week, long, annoying days. It’s not how I do my best work. I am more surgical than bludgeon and the harder I work, the less efficient I become. My brain has to be fully functioning to make sure I am not missing anything. Still, there is money to be made and work to be done. Soon, I can take a step back, exhale, and more fully concentrate. For now, I am powering through the curves and hoping that 85% is good enough.

I am rather heartbroken and trying hard not to be. Perhaps I got overinvolved with LP but he’s been present for me for a while and the romance had both heat and light and elements of obsession and addiction, on both sides. With his absence, I am bereft. I am trying to get past it, past him, past the promise of an intense wonderful relationship. Past the feeling of waking up in his arms. Past the memory of him comforting me, holding me so tightly I knew I was okay, that he was different. I know it’s not me. I know his life is incredibly difficult and our timing is bad. I walked back into his life at a bad time for him and we tried to be together anyway.

I have asked all of my friends what to do — should I call him, text him, reach out, ignore him, push, withdraw??? Everyone has a different opinion, but almost everyone says, reach out, be there, be present — that’s what he told you to do: don’t play games, don’t withdraw, don’t be indifferent (which is my safe zone).

The lone dissenting voice: my mother. My mother, who worked around the clock and stayed in a horrible marriage for (in her mind) the benefit of her children, gave me the one reasonable interpretation: “It’s not about you. He cannot be with you right now because of everything he is dealing with related to his kid. He’s not ready and he cannot be with you when all he is trying to do is protect and be there for his daughter.”

It’s very, very true. He is sacrificing himself for his child. It’s what my mother did. It’s what I would do. How could I be angry about that? I am not angry, far from it, and were I the mother of that child, that’s what I would want — a man who I knew would kill himself to save his kid.

That makes all of it more heartbreaking. It would be easier if he were cruel or cold or adulterous. But he’s not — at least not so far. Instead, he’s reminding me of my mother, which makes this even more painful and the fact that we’re apart even harder.

She tried to soothe me: “maybe in a few months or a year, it will be different . . .” That is cold comfort. I have to close down the raw emotion I feel about him. Yes, it’s been a little under two months of activity, but there is a lot of passion and emotion there. I mean, we fought on our first date! Anyway, I can’t quite manage to shut down how I feel, and I can’t help but hold a flicker of hope that he will reappear in my life soon, before I get too committed to being single, to being apart from him, to settling for someone else, someone with more money and less passion. I am afraid of settling for good options, for men I enjoy, but men who don’t keep me enthralled and obsessed . . . as much.

As for BFD, we are dating a bit, but it’s not serious for me. It may be more serious for him. He’s very present for me, very available, very engaged. We’re talking on scale of normal to BFD, so that means he’s reaching out daily at a minimum. He gave me back the car overnight so we could see each other again on Thanksgiving before he drove it out of town to be with one of his business partners and to check progress before he left for training camp for 8 days. We did a terrible job, as always, coordinating our schedules because we never think to include the other. Except now when I mentioned Christmas in NY, which is where he wanted to go, too, but his usual place to stay was booked. I mentioned our pied-a-terre and invited him. It just sort of came out, but I might be open to it. It could be fun. He’s been different, obviously, reevaluating his life and reaching for what’s real and solid. I am real and solid for him. He’s not yet that way for me, though he is better than I ever give him credit for.

My weight has been fluctuating over the week. I am up at the top end of where I like to be: 115. Men, strangers to me, like to guess my weight and always guess 5-10 pounds lower than normal, which sort of makes me feel bad, but I am feeling more balanced about it. I am premensstrual and bloated, but I still ate and drank and enjoyed myself.

I am much less depressed than I’ve been. In fact, I feel pretty good. Stressed, but good. The LP heartbreak and small hope that he’s been telling me the truth — that it’s temporary, that he’s still here — linger, but I still feel good.

This week, I return to my workout regularly (I am actually making enough money to keep food in the house, the wolf from the door, utilities and house stuff paid, and able to pick up my own check for stuff). I need it. It makes my body and mind very, very happy.

Oh, and I am in a perhaps unreconcilable fight with my “best” friend, W, who is a hypocritical asshole and unnecessarily cruel.

Yay.

What in the fuck is wrong with you, you faux-hemian gold-digging whore.

How dare you express joy in BFD’s situation and then gleefully describe what a horrible boyfriend he was and how I didn’t date him for very long, when you (1) never met him and (2) have no idea what you’re talking about.

Then, to criticize me when I told you that I take no joy in this, that I view this as a very sad situation.

Really?

You are a truly horrible person, who clearly does not believe in the existence of karma.

Last night, I hit a barbecue, drank cocktails, ate a ton of food, so this morning, I was anxious to hit the trail and work it off.

It was cold and damp, but I knew if I laced up and headed out, I would feel better.

The trail, which runs through a big park, relaxes me. I used to wander around it and find solutions to complex problems.

Today, I just kept seeing people who reminded me of BFD. I am sure I have mentioned that BFD and I are ethnically different, so the fact that a good 1/3 of the people I saw resembled him ethnically, did have me both laughing and shaking my fist at the sky, metaphorically, wondering WTF universe?!!!

So, I thought about him on the trail and it was not good — for him. I tried to envision a future with him and it was just so empty and unhappy. LP wormed his way into my thoughts of my BFD’d future and it was just ugly and sad.

Because I was so troubled, I doubled my workout, hoping to exercise away the demons. It did not work. I just saw more people who resembled BFD and my ipod lost charge in when I was still 7 minutes from my door.

Even a bad, troubling workout is still better than 90% of the other ways I could have spent the morning.

I could make plans to see BFD, but the truth is I am not unhappy sitting in bed, recharging the ipod and watching a truly terrible football game.

I am not calling BFD, not calling LP. I am just relaxing and grateful that the worst thing that happened to me today was being reminded of BFD and realizing over and over again how very wrong for each other we have been.

The past two days have been a whirlwind and an emotional rollercoaster. I have still not fully processed everything and I still have things seared into my memory and other little moments are bubbling up to the surface.

In addition to the emotional upheaval and drama with BFD, I have been dealing with a crushing reality about LP: I think we’re done. I do.

I know I may be overreacting (and I am definitely pre-menstrual), but I just feel it. Despite our wonderfully intimate and loving call late Monday night, I feel separated from him at a time when I need to feel connected to him.

Plus, his ex is using their child as a bludgeon, interfering with his ability to create a life as much as she can. Their custody arrangement is flexible and the kid goes back and forth almost every single day. That means she essentially controls his life. Still.

Somewhat disingenuously as we had set only a general “we’ll be together this week,” I texted him early Friday afternoon to say, “Were we on for tonight or tomorrow?” Forty minutes later, I heard back:
“Huh??? Did we discuss that? I have [the kid] both nights”

Here is the rest:

Me: Yes, on Monday night, we made general plans to see each other. You were confirming [the kid] schedule, but we were on for the weekend. 1:53 PM
LP: Well then i am sorry – i am having a very rough time balancing work and [the kid] and life right now 1:55 PM
Me: I’m sorry, too. I know it’s been rough on you, and I feel like a pest for even reaching out at all. 2:00 PM
LP: Sorry to make you feel like a pest 2:01 PM
Me: Sorry to be one. I want to be an alleviation of irritation and stress for you, not the cause. 2:08 PM
Me: Should we try to reschedule for Sunday or do you need some time to get things back into balance? 2:21 PM
Me: hey, i was just calling to check on you. you seem really stressed. i hope you and [the kid] have a great weekend and that you’re able to unwind a bit. 5:00 PM

So, there you have it.

Though I have not had LP’s voice on here before, it’s not an out of character text exchange. He can be, especially during work hours, very matter of fact. It’s not cold exactly, but it’s not warm either. He’s stressed out and distracted.

More importantly, despite his desire for me, which is deep and unabiding, he cannot balance out his life and his priorities. I am not a priority, which I shouldn’t be at this point.

The difficulty is that I get easily bored and I want him to be available to me. I want to have sex with him. I want to fall asleep in his arms. I am okay having to split time with the kid. I don’t want to see him every day, but I want to see him every week.

That is not happening, and I am not certain that any of it can happen, no matter how much he does want it. Because he does, just not more than he has to work and wants to be there for his child. I am okay with that. I don’t think he’s a bad person — in fact, I think he’s a great person. I am just not willing to wait forever for him to realize how he has to handle the reins. He is afraid right now and he is allowing himself to be manipulated, knowingly, to do the right thing for the kid.

I know that, and again, it’s part of what I love about him. But, it puts me in a difficult situation. While he is putting himself and his needs so low in priority, he is incapable of being the man I need him to be in our relationship.

So, I am stepping back. That does mean, to a certain extent, that I am downshifting how I think about him. For now, he cannot be my first thought if I need an escort or a party arises. He goes from being on the cusp of being my boyfriend — we’d had extensive conversations so he knew that sex = exclusive and monogamous — to man I am dating.

I had tears in my eyes during our text exchange because I know the truth. He’s not ready, though he thinks he is, and I am not ready to wait, though I wonder if he thinks I will.

It felt to me like a valediction. His silence, speaking volumes.

I am probably overreacting. This has happened before and it’s been okay, but he’s suffering and my presence is not helping. I know that. He needs two things — my loving support and my understanding. I know that, too.

Could this all be hormonal freak-out? Yes. But I am not sitting still. I am moving on. I am keeping a connection to him, not cutting him off or anything, but I am going to be dating other people . . . including perhaps BFD.

I know, I know.

BFD would not be the boyfriend either, but I may see if his Damascus Road conversion is real or not. I am not trusting what he is saying or doing right now. It’s nice that he finally appreciates me and see what I always wanted him to see about me — that I am strong and dynamic and successful and that I can be the person he has been looking for. He said to me at one point, “you are now my personal attorney” and I thought, motherfucker, I have always been your personal attorney, you just never allowed me to assume the mantle of handling things for you. The personal attorney thing is about connections, not about work. He said he always wanted to have someone who would be one phone call from anything he wanted. He is an idiot because even the depressed Planner was still capable of managing anything he ever needed. Ugh.

For more than a year, I could have made his life easier, less stressful, and he never appreciated me. He tried to turn me into something else, never seeing who I actually was, although I was with him on the mistaken journey. He thought he knew better about everything and all of his failed thinking is coming back to haunt him.

I was happy that he needed me because I knew (a) I could help, and (b) I was gaining his respect by doing it. He needed me at the single lowest moment of his life and there is real power in that, which I never had in our relationship. I liked having power over him and power in our relationship. Frankly, he liked it, too. He wanted me to act to do and I never did.

The truth of it all is that I am single-ish again. I hope I am wrong about LP and that he regains some semblance of control and figures out how to integrate me into his life. In the meantime, I am keeping all of my options open, including BFD.

BFD and I spoke late yesterday. He was definitely feeling better. He asked what I was doing this weekend, which is needless to say something he’s not asked me in a so long I don’t know if he ever did. I told him my plans to the symphony with N canceled, so I was not yet sure, but open, as was he, so he said “we should do something tomorrow.” Really? I said, okay, maybe a movie tomorrow. We talked about the workout I was skipping and then hung up. We spoke again once more and he’s chagrined but better.

This afternoon, I shot him a revised offer via email, but he responded back that he was not feeling well and countered for tomorrow afternoon. Knowing him as I do, we’re not on for tomorrow either, and I am already seeing A and possibly BP. Still, I accepted, knowing it costs me nothing since he will most assuredly cancel on me.

We are becoming friends in a way we have never been. I am still thinking of him very much as my ex. I am also accepting that I am his best friend. I am wary, but open to him. I do not forget that he walked away as I cried two weeks ago, that I then sat with LP and felt him hold me so tightly I could feel his arms on my ribs as he whispered in my ear.

I know who I am, for the first time in a long time. The last few weeks have been eye-opening for me and I am much less self-involved and much more open and loving to the people in my life. I feel different, more me. Part of that is the breakup with BFD, part of that was the loving warmth and acceptance from LP, but most of it is me getting a fucking grip.

I have no idea if I have a future with LP, and I fear I do not. I have no idea if BFD could be a changed man, understanding he needs to be tethered and corralled in order to be fully free. I have no idea what the next few weeks or months will bring.

What I do know is who I am, what I want, what I will never settle for. I am happier being single than being in a relationship that makes me deeply unhappy. I am not settling for less than I deserve, but I am also not closing any doors. I need to make no choices. There is no rush.

That’s what LP called me tonight as we wrapped up a short, intense call.  We have not spoken in over a week and we’ve been texting sporadically while he’s been working so much.

This evening, I had begun to get irritated, and I started to think about dating and whether I would tell people I were available and whether I’d see BFD again.

In short, I was being spoiled and cranky.

Around 1115, I was in bed, on the computer thinking through my very strange days when I got a text from LP that he was home, which was a surprise (to me).

He had pulled an all-nighter last night, out of town, and flew back tonight from the east coast, a long trip.  He texted when he he got home, after he crawled into bed, thinking about me.  Of course.

I was still up, so we texted for 15 minutes, driving each other to distraction, then a 6:30 minute call.  We are nothing, if not efficient.  I love to hear his voice, to hear him breathing, to know that he loves my “beautiful face” and how I kiss.

Lying here in the dark, I listened to him tell me his plans for when we are actually together again. I asked him something specific, and he said, “anything you want, I will do.”  And he means it.  I know he wants to make me happy.  I want to make him happy.

We have not yet had sex.  We have really not come close to having sex, but now after 5 weeks, we cannot wait to at least begin moving down that path.

As we were wrapping up the call, we just wanted so desperately to reach out to touch each other, separated by a whole three miles.  He was completely exhausted, but I was tempted to say, put your jammies on and pick me up. Let me spend the night with you.  But I didn’t.

Instead we talked calendar — he has to find out when he has the kid (and said, since it was then 1130, that it was too late to call) — and just luxuriated in the sound of the other’s voice and breathing.  I told him how much I missed him and how I’d not reached out, knowing how busy he’d been.  He was grateful for my thoughtfulness.  We called each other sweetie and just paused and breathed in and out and listened to the other, talking about how much we can’t wait to see each other.  He told me that he loved just getting a drink with me, just hanging out.  I reminded him how much I loved falling asleep in his arms.

It’s late and I am tired so I can’t remember the transition, but he called me “my love,” and it hung there briefly, but we smiled into it.  There was no real tension to it, but he was tired and it slipped out.  We’re not there yet, but we will be.  It felt natural and organic, almost more than him calling me by my full first name earlier.

Even after we said our final good night, we kept the line open for a few seconds.  I need that connection.  I missed his voice, I missed how I feel when we’re connected.  I missed his intensity.

I have been so confident about our connection since we met.. Since we reconnected. Since we began actually seeing each other.

It’s scary for me to trust my instinct, but it feels solid and true and real and serious.  He knows it, too.  We agreed to be open and honest, despite how very scary it is to be that vulnerable.

This week, our relationship will be changing at least slightly.  We will become physically intimate.

We are both grammar nerds and we are often texting, which we can do no matter what calls we’re on or meetings we are in.  I have often teased him about using the conditional mood instead of the future tense: “I could do …” “I would do …” I always speak to him in future tense: “I will see you tonight” “I will kiss you”

We are still early in this, still figuring it all out, but I know we will get closer and we will continue to enjoy each other.