I sit down to write, and I am aware that it is a volatile state of mind in which I do so. I brog a fairly open glimpse into the happenings of my life, for whom, I am not quite sure. I do not know if four people read my site on a regular basis, or if it there are fifty, or if there are a hundred. Mostly, I do this for myself, because it’s something I picked up in 2001, and after this much time of fairly regular writing, I just can’t bring myself to ever stop completely. It’s like a pet, that no matter what, I can’t neglect it, even if it pisses me off.
For those of you who actually do read my writing, and have had difficulty reading in between the lines, here is a brief summary: a girl showed up on my long-dormant radar, there was a spark, a brief period of burning, and then it was subdued; and slowly suffocated. And today, eight weeks later, extinguished.
And writing about it seems like a good idea, for some reason. This is one thing I’m doing to cope with it, and move on.
Despite the torment of the unknown that was the last five weeks of this brief relationship, I look back at the early stages, with a warm fondness and positive association. It was quite possibly the most exhilarating and meaningful two-week stretch that I’ve ever had in quite a long time. The thrill of the chase, the internal rejoice, when an attraction is known to be mutual. Spontaneous dinners, and late-night Target trolling. Griping about our jobs, and the people that make the lives of designers miserable, but are still memorable stories. Inviting the girl out to functions that I normally am the third, fifth, or seventh wheel at, her accepting, and making me feel swelled with relief and pride that I really could get this kind of girl.
Spontaneously deciding to go play catch at a park at midnight, and then the first kiss, awkward, but the second, and third, oh-so wonderful. This was also an office relationship, and there was this silent understanding between us, that nobody else had to know of it. Admittedly, I thought it was kind of hot. Clandestinely planning lunches, where we would have to discreetly leave the office at different times as not to arouse suspicion. Having beers with our lunches, while we griped about clients from the European offices, who made our lives difficult. The sweet kisses shared in cars while one of us got out first, while the other parked, to again, avoid suspicion.
During this period, I stopped drinking coffee, and like the girl, started drinking energy drinks. After our dates ended in AM hours, we would take turns supplying the Red Bulls; hiding them behind the condiments, or briefly in the freezer, of the communal refrigerator. Subsequently using office email threads to tip off the other that a can was there for the taking, in code, like “that layered PSD is in the job’s folder on the server.” But then there was the night where we got trashed on 40s of Miller High Life, and I found myself doing the Walk of Shame the next day, and we sleepily walked into the office simultaneously, both carrying Red Bulls, later wondering if anyone noticed the coincidences.
And then the trip, slammed the brakes on everything. We both knew it was coming, but there was nothing that could be done about it. The girl would be shipped off on work-related business for two weeks, all the way to Europe, at that. The fun we had, were having, was over for the time being, and I would be left wondering if there going to be anything, when she got back. I even told the girl, that I’d like to continue to see her when she gets back, and my assignment with the company was over, to which she gave me little reason to believe it couldn’t happen. My optimism grew when distressed, and at odd hours, the girl would instant message me all the way from Europe to gripe about some of the difficulties of her trip; she was coming to me, to vent to, which I construed as a positive.
When the trip ended, admittedly, I was pretty excited. Unfortunately for me, and unbeknownst to me, the trip was apparently not the only thing that had ended. My attempts to reconnect with the girl, resulted in excuses at first, with a hint of distance. When the period of time in which the excuses could no longer be used passed, the feeling of distance remained, and grew. Text messages would go unanswered. Instant messages would be responded in terse, low-worded responses, after ten minutes at a time. Reason to believe I was being ignored and/or avoided began to creep into my psyche. I began to wonder what I had done wrong to sour this budding relationship. The light-hearted, humor-driven gift that I had sent to her, at the office, had yielded weak gratitude and reaction (or a lack thereof) that I was not expecting.
I began second-guessing myself, third-guessing, and ultimately overthinking. That’s just what I do. I went to those closest to me for ears. I backed off. I tried to approach the scenario with humor, wit, and charm, only to be suppressed with an unsettling chill. I backed off again. Kept my distance, spoke sparingly, to at least let the girl that I was still thinking about her. Responses from the girl remained short, and unsatisfying to me. Yet I did not give up.
As the weeks passed, and repeated attempts to reconnect with the girl yielded no success, it became evident that what we had was becoming a thing of the past. But as the cut-and-dry individual that I am, I still required proper closure. I lose my shit when the door is ajar. It’s either open, or it is shut. Undeterred, I kept playing ball, despite the fact that I was down by 53 points in the closing minutes. What more can I do? I have a desire to never give up until it’s truly over.
Which brings us to today. The truth came out, without me having to really press for it. And honestly, I’m glad, because it does give me the proper closure I’ve been seeking, and fills in a lot of the blanks to a lot of the questions and thoughts that I’ve been beating myself over for the last few weeks. With a girl like the girl, it’s never any surprise that there had to be other guys somewhere in the equation. And unfortunately for me, another guy; a previous guy, found his way back into the picture. For how long, I don’t really know, although it’s fairly easy to figure out, based on the dry spell that was cast upon me.
Amicably, and civilly, I had my say, poured out my heart, and my thoughts. The girl did the same. But in the end, it does not change the fact though, and as ultimately relieved I am to have the closure and crystal-clear idea of where I stand . . . I am hurt.
The girl tells me that she respects me and enjoys me, that I’m a lot of fun. And wishes to remain friends. Despite being a one-in-a-million example of someone who is capable of co-existing with an ex, and discovering a different type of love with an ex, in this case, with this girl, I don’t think she means it. It’s too protocol, it’s too generic, it’s too procedure. How often do we, as people, when breaking up, separating, or parting ways with another, truly says something like “It was nice knowing you.” or “I’ll never see you again, so goodbye.“? Rarely did the girl initiate contact when we were together, so why would she make an effort to communicate with a guy who she hurt? Deep down, and as much as I’d likely embrace the notion to rekindle something, if the opportunity presented itself, I know that I probably won’t ever hear from her, or see her again.
Life is not Hollywood, so this is not a Hollywood ending.
This is reality, and the cowboy did not get the girl in the end.
