My world got turned upside down.
The guy I was waiting for, the one I called my boyfriend, came home from Afghanistan. Earlier than I thought. And didn’t tell me, in order to surprise me. It was a shock, alright.
I came home from work to find a note on my end table. “This is my handwriting. I will email you later.”
Emotions went from happiness (momentary), to confusion (lasting), to panic as I realized he had been here without me here, he’d stayed at least long enough for my cat to scratch him (there was blood on the paper – fairly fresh blood, as it was still red and hadn’t turned brown yet) and long enough to write a note, and I’d been none the wiser. It was a cross between feeling violated and confusion. I knew “email” could mean nothing good. He had my phone number. He’d had my phone number for months, and he’d used it before. Why not call me?
I’ll spare you the details of the following four hours. I knew we were teetering. I knew he’d reposted his OKC and that it was, he said, intended to stalk his ex wife. And I’d known for months that she still was intent on playing emotional welfare. He’d taken that down after I’d said something, but I also knew he’d hidden his Facebook friends list… though whether he’d hidden it from me or just in general I did not know. I knew I was having doubts based on this change in his behavior that I did not understand; the sudden secrecy, the emotional distance.
His claim? He wanted to surprise me. And to a degree, I believe that. I don’t think this was premeditated. If it had been premeditated, he would not have had his packages shipped to me, packages I am still getting, packages I will still be getting for awhile. He wanted to surprise me, he wanted me, and then he got here and realized he was not yet over his divorce. But I am… shocked… really… that it went down like this. Not a week before this happened, he’d told me he was worried he’d disappoint me. And I’d reassured him. For what it’s worth, I don’t think he would have disappointed me, even with the baggage. Baggage can be worked through. But this was not the surprise I was anticipating. This was not what I was expecting. And I am disappointed. Sad, really, that we never got our chance. Or at least, we haven’t thus far.
I got trashed that night. And I did a few things. I called my mother first, because I’ve been trying to be more open with them. They deserve it after so many years of secrecy. And I told her the whole story, from beginning to end. She took it well. I don’t think she realized I was trashed… I hold it well. And then, the drunker I got, the angrier I got, and so I lashed out and reposted my profile on OKC myself. Because, you know, if I’d been dumped, then that’s the logical thing to do. I did not sleep the entire night. I called in to work the next day, honestly explaining what had happened. Everyone had known he was coming, everyone had known that I’d be taking time off when he did. No one had expected, especially not me, that I would be taking time off to recover after such a shock.
We went to dinner the following night. He called it a date. I told him that was funny… to say you’re on a date with the person you dumped the night before. “I didn’t dump you, I said we needed to slow it down.” Which I was fine with. But then to say that we weren’t exclusive after having been exclusive? That’s dumping. No matter how you look at it. At any rate, the “date” was good. I had fun. I think he had fun, though whether it was the company or whether it was the fact that he’s just home after having been in that miserable place for so goddamn long, I do not know. At any rate, I took that profile back down. It didn’t feel right, at that moment, to have it up, to have it posted.
I read the cards and, as part of an experiment for a future post, visited a psychic. Both my reading and his reading (not a tarot reading) said the same things. They saw me, they saw him, they saw her. And they said “three’s a crowd”. It’s the same as what I’d told him, over and over again, he has to let her go. And until he does, he and I cannot be. It reminds me of a quote from Harry Potter: “Neither can live while the other survives”. In fact, it’s funny, that’s the first thing that popped into my head when I realized what was going on. I don’t know if that quote really references the relationship between myself and his ex, or the relationship between he and his ex. Actually, it may be a bit of both. Until she lets him go, he cannot truly live (and neither can she). And until she lets him go, he and I cannot truly do this either.
We are three days past that date. I have not heard a word out of him. Strange, to go from talking to someone every day (and all day) since Christmas to hearing absolutely nothing from them at all. But, of course, that’s how it works sometimes. I told him, going into this, that the one thing I would not be able to handle is unnecessary drama. And I know that this falls into that category… maybe I am better off? At least for the time being. Try telling that, though, to the pent up emotions that plague me. It’s mostly confusion. It’s hard to miss something you have never had… and we never had anything beyond a lot of words and an extended hug (plus another spine crushing one – that felt good, my back popped). But you believe what you are led to believe and when it’s not there anymore, you are confused.
The psychic did tell me this: I am stressing over it too much. The cards said the same. That I am making it out to be bigger than it is. The boy and I will do this, he says. But there is also someone else that I will find and I will have to make a choice. It will not be the “groper”. In the meantime, I need to remember that I am at a higher level, spiritually, than she is… (he did not like her… if she does truly have spirits that were talking to him, they seemed to physically disgust him). He recognized my own sensitivity, explained that she and I have been fighting together for a very long time (think past lives… which I don’t know that I truly believe in or not, but it was an amusing tale to think about how I apparently gave the order to cut off her head in an earlier life). He advised me to say what I needed to say, to deliver the messages that the boy’s guardians were telling him, and then to do what I had to do to take care of myself.
And so, after I was done, I sent a text. I told him that I was fine with taking it slowly, but to become unexclusive after being exclusive for five months would be regression. It would make the time we’d already invested utterly worthless. And then I passed on the communication from the psychic. And now, aside from sending him alerts when those packages come in, just the same as I always have (well, except I use the phone now… I’m not using the chat service on the phone anymore), I’m letting it go.
Because I have to. The ball is not in my court anymore. He has a journey he has to complete. He has to get rid of her. I know that, the cards know that, the psychic knows that, and I think somewhere deep inside him, he knows that. If he calls, he calls. If we see each other again, we see each other again. And if we don’t, I’ll be okay. What I will do with all these toys and all his stuff I do not know, but I will be okay.
You don’t have to know me very well to know that I am strong. I am resilient. I know who I am, I know what I stand for, I know what I believe in (though it shocks me, sometimes, to find that I am learning new things all the time). I know where I am, I know where I was, and I know, to some extent, where I am going. Sometimes the path is hard, but I travel it anyway. And right now, I travel it without much of a light and without a guide. I keep walking, though, because it sure as fuck beats standing still in the darkness.
Moving forward, he has a nickname like all the others… I’d refrained from giving him one, I wanted to believe he was different. He may still be different. But he gets a name.
I dub thee: Botboy.