I have been texting my girlfriends to apologize, as I feel like such an effing idiot.
They are all being gracious, but I have been an idiot and I am not letting myself off as easily.
My biggest sin: whining about this man, this Bon Vivant who got in my head and in my heart, despite my better judgment. In part, he gained access to parts of me because his intensity was so familiar, his problems were so familiar, his crazy was so familiar. He is — in large part — very similar to me and to LP.
But he’s shown himself to be open and loving in a way I found charming — and, frankly — important. Being with him was fun to a degree I’ve not experienced in a long time. Being with him was also being essential in a way I’ve not experienced in a long time.
So, he loved me and I loved him and it was still dumb.
I always pick love, as heartbreak is something you can recover from. I always pick fun, as life is difficult enough.
But . . . this was dumb. And I knew it.
He was trouble from the beginning, and it was intoxicating. Then it was all real, and that was even more intoxicating..
I have cried a lot of tears for him, for me, about each of us.
The breakup was so abrupt, so shocking, so in my face, I was left reeling for weeks.
I have deliberately shifted some of my patterns and behaviors — I stopped going to certain bars, going out on certain nights, skipping specific restaurants. I needed to avoid him. I felt an open wound, and then a healing wound, and then a scar.
I am always aware of him, the specter he casts, the inevitable confrontation that awaits.
That I saw him last night, less than 24 hours after the first time he contacted me in six weeks . . . shocking.
And yet, not shocking at all.