Evan broke up with me tonight.
Considering how last week, he was eager to meet my parents….considering three days ago he called me to tell me he missed me after being away for the weekend…considering just yesterday we were talking about moving to Arizona to escape the bitter cold of Michigan…considering that I’ve been up every night for the last four weeks on the phone with this man as we pour our bleeding hearts out to each other….
your guess is as good as mine.
And now, this man, whom I was calling mi cariño in public, whom I cooked dinner and wore makeup for, and whom I was preparing to start a new life with, has said “let’s just be friends.”
“I just don’t feel like I can give you what you need. And you deserve to be with someone who can.” he said. “I feel like it’s best to end it now before it gets too serious. You were great. I just feel like we’re better as friends.”
I could have dealt with that, if not for what happened next.
He asked me to see Star Trek with him tomorrow.
“I’ll come up and get you if you want.”
My voice was soft, but my tone was cold. “No, I can’t do that. You just broke up with me. That’s a date. And yes, I would also like to be friends too. But forgive me, dear, I need some time to process this.” I paused, and my voice hardened. “And you don’t ask someone you just broke up with on a not-date the next day. We are not going to be friends right away. Forgive the analogy, but that’s like if you ran over my dog and then insisted I could still keep it.”
He paused, stricken. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
“I know. I know you didn’t. But now you see clearly why I can’t.”
“Yeah, me too.” We both paused and I added, “It’d be better if you didn’t call.”
“Okay. I won’t.” His voice was soft, apologetic, still stricken. “I…guess…I’ll…see you round then.”
“Goodbye.” I hung up before he could hear me sobbing.
However, I’m not crying on account of HIM…but the part that is wrenching me most of all is how LITTLE I care right now. I agonised for years over Sal, and months for Dante, and many years for other various men who I didn’t have real relationships with. It took me years to move on from them. But banishing Evan from my thoughts will not take me years. This time next week, I am certain I’ll be over it. I immediately deleted our texts, and his number. I immediately changed my Facebook relationship status back to “single”. I immediately defriended him. I will tell my family and friends “don’t worry about him” as soon as the sun rises.
The only real thing I’ve had in years has passed away barely mourned, and that’s the part that hurts me the most. It is hard not to be convinced you’re not unlovable when you’re constantly denied, but I’m coming out of that mentality.
My mindset now is not that I am unlovable. I simply believe that I have not met the right one yet, and I am grateful that he has freed me before I was in too deep.
My mindset now is that I’m completely tired of giving love and not getting what I deserve, so it’s all about my own needs—for a better job, a slimmer figure and a life full of travel.
My mindset now is that I’m finished pining and bleeding for others, and that it is HIS loss, and not mine.
I am an excellent woman, and he will come to regret that he let me go, as they all do.
And I’m done crying, pining, whining, cajoling, compromising for any man. I am claiming myself, mine own self. And mine own self—she is a queen. I am not going to be concerned with the ways of jesters.
1. Can someone transfer me out of my poverty and into a Step-Up movie? Dancing, drinks and warm weather? Yes please.
2. Cariño, mi vida—-why is he shutting me out?
3. What I want for myself is different than my life right now. I’m going for it.
The last 10 days have been a whirlwind of change.
1. Abigail and I mutually decided that the best solution for our housing and financial problems was for me to move in with her in her parents’ abandoned house. Her parents have moved to Las Vegas already, and a have almost a year left before their time here would have ran out. Therefore, she and I will be here until it’s no longer okay for us to be.
A month ago, I was drinking and sobbing on B’s couch after running into Sal and having to say “goodbye” and act like it didn’t matter. Three weeks ago, I was binge-eating myself out of house and home. Two weeks ago, I was numb but determined. One week ago, I asked out another man I have admired from afar since we met and he said “yes”.
Today, I unfriended Sal on Facebook.
Do you know what else I did today?
I moved to a new neighbourhood and invited Evan over for dinner tomorrow with me and Abigail. He’s going to drive an hour one way to come out to see me. We have stayed up the last four nights in a row talking about Jehovah, love, our lives, our families, our dreams…
The best thing about letting go is what can be brought into your life.
Evan is respectful, kind, intelligent, humble and hilarious with a great smile and a deep taste for adventure.
I loved Sal Paradise. I’ll never forget him. But I am grateful to Jehovah for Evan, for he has shown me the sincerest tenderness.
I am so grateful.
In m phone, he comes up simply as “darling”—-cariño.
<—- This is a weird phrase, but I definitely enjoy typing it.
I am nonplussed.
Last night, at my friend Lance’s house, I asked a guy out. This cat— Evan— came out of left field. He doesn’t have money. He can’t dance that well. He kind of looks straight of an 1980s video. But I asked him out because he has a good heart, a clean heart, and a limpid eye. I asked him out because he is full of love, and he’s open, open, open. I asked him out because when he sings, there is light in his voice. I asked him because when I talked to him last night, lying on the floor, my head near his knees, he told me about all he’s been through, and how he’s carrying on.
I asked him out. And he said yes. Evan said yes. And I’m excited to see where this goes.
It’s been six weeks of haze. There’s been so much, too much change within such a short period of time I scarcely recognize my own life anymore. In many ways, that is good. In many ways, that is horrible. Why? Because no matter how many things change, the things that bring me to tears are still the same.
Reality is such a cruel mistress.
I’m attempting to find myself— my real self— through overzealous exercise and sleeping as much as my body will tolerate and meeting as many people that do not know me from my old life as much as possible. I want everything to be different, to be better.
I feel exhausted but compelled to keep going.
After about two weeks of binge eating and feeling sorry for myself, I’ve decided to take my life back. I’m back in the gym and back to clean eating. I’m back to sleeping enough (and not 14 hours like I was last week). I’m back to calling my friends and at the Hall.
After applying at 200 different companies, I finally landed a job as a caregiver for disabled old people. It’ll be a week since I started next Monday. I work six days, four of them 12 hour night shifts with my favourite client, a cat lady with Parkinson’s. I sleep when she sleeps. If I’m there 12 hours, I’m only truly working for 4.
The pay sucks, but I’ve got as few or as many hours as I’m pleased to work.
Abigail, my friend and former coworker, is moving in with me 20 April. I love living alone but I hate sweating for 2 weeks out of the month wondering how to pay my landlord.
Last month, she threatened to serve me eviction papers. Her reasoning was,” We are old and we need the money too. I like you. I don’t wanna put you out. But you’re late every month. “
I don’t blame her. But I also don’t want to move all of my crap,change addresses and move to yet another congregation; so Abigail is coming to stay with me, mostly because her parents are moving to Vegas and she’s not interested in moving there too.
I had a meeting with the elders earlier this week to seek spiritual guidance. They were a terrific help to me, and I feel like I’m ready to conquer the vices that have bound me for so long.
Mostly, I’ve been keeping very, very busy. I am out of tears and out of angst, but not out of heart. I’m just deciding to put my heart elsewhere.
Failing business, looming bills, idle hands —> worry, worry, worry, worry, worry, worry,worry, worry,worry…..
Sergei invited me out to dinner tonight.
Well, let’s not get too excited. He did not call or text. He posted an invite to all of his followers on Instagram (which is a private account). I took a chance and said, “Sure, I’ll go.” He said, “Okay, cool. We’ll get a group together.”
My sister happened to be with me, so we ran home and changed into our good clothes. The place was small and classy, and there was live jazz. He showed up in a tweed jacket, a dark blue tie and big, brown glasses. He smelled of sandalwood and cognac. He and I laughed and joked from across the table, but it was not a date. After all, five other women showed up.
However, it was friendly and enlightening. In a collage of the evening, he posted a picture of me on his Instagram, laughing and talking with our friends.
I don’t know where this is all going to end, but I just want to take a moment to thank God for social networking and my natural impulsiveness. I really enjoy this little blond man, with his crisp blue eyes and sharp mind and sly tongue. I also enjoy sitting near him, and burying my face into his shoulder as we embrace in farewell.
Nothing chills my blood more now than to see someone else texting on the road. As much as I love music, I keep my phone in the trunk now.
I almost killed two of my best friends, two acquaintances and myself on my phone while driving. Do not, I repeat, do not let this happen to you.