It's hard to believe I last wrote in February. Do you know what happened in February that caused my hiatus from sharing woes? I fell in love. Well, no, that's not really completely accurate. I found a fellow who fell in love with me and boy oh boy did I love that he loved me. (Ego is responsible for no small percentage of life's disasters.)
And there was an end date on this tryst--I was about to travel for several months on work. Jordan was here for work and therefore leaving. We were 2 ships sailing and crossing and having great sex in the night and we knew that we'd end up on disparate shores so gosh, how we were able to recklessly enjoy climbing aboard each other's decks (have I taken the metaphor too far? stop me any time now).
But, as happens whenever a man likes me just a tad too much--just a hair over the edge of the usual dismissive, cold, moody emotions I usually contend with in my preferred breed of asshole lovers--I turned on him. And fast. His shoes--they were gross. The way he chewed his gum--it was foul. His hair--what was he, a middle school teacher from Iowa? Dis-gust-ing.
And so I went off to travel the country for work and live my Eat Pray Love summer throughout the midwest. And do you know what the Midwest has to offer, friends? Men. Young, handsome, willing men. And I forgot about poor Jordan like a girl forgets her underwear at her one night stand's house (the kind of forgetting where you sort of remember but hate to face the hassle of calling for their retrieval).
But Jordan had not forgotten about me. That's the problem when one doesn't break things off when she knows she ought to--when she knows she wants to. So Jordan wanted to call me. Jordan wanted nightly phone calls. Jordan wanted to...say what!?...visit me. Oh hellll to the N.O. Not on the Love section of my Eat Pray Love adventure. And so I broke it to him gently. On the phone. That a visit was not best. I'd need to think about things.
To me: think about things = we're dunzo. This ship has sailed. This ship has a new set of sailors and we're having a party up in Cabin 1 so don't come a knockin when the ship's a rockin.
To Jordan: think about things = we're going to think about things. Um, idiot.
One week later, he called. 'I don't feel like you've been thinking about things,' he says. 'Think about whaaa...[oh, shit, right]...oh, yeah, um. Okay, I thought about things. It's not really going to work out Jordan. Sowwwwy.' Click.
That's how you break up with someone twice, my dedicated, equally passive aggressive readers. You break up once, but not really. You break up again, for reals, and break hearts that kinda probably didn't need to be broken. But wasn't it so much easier? On you? Not to man up and do it right on round one? Yeah. Pretty much.
Tear for the heart broken. Thanks for that it wasn't mine.
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