Door Closed, Window Open.. Check

I don't like the sap who wrote that last post. Re-reading it makes me sound pathetic. Of course I was sad and that's ok. The news sucker-punched me and I was entitled to act accordingly. I'm still processing and letting go of the ideas the Professor led me to believe, the feelings I had.. or thought I had.. I swear I'm not even sure what exactly I felt, though I thought it was love.. or falling.. but it's over so they've stopped growing obviously and in that I found some closure and maybe an ability to finally compartmentalize? I don't know. I'm not crazy broken and I have moments I keep checking in and wondering why I'm pretty much kind of ok.

We met up again the following Sunday after our break up. I had a gift for him before he left for his trip and he mentioned that taking the space was the right thing. The days after had been pretty hard for me to get through, especially the weekend where I just felt listless and depressed and this declaration was the final kick I'd assumed was coming. Confusion and needing space to ‛figure things out' never seems to work in my favor. It didn't hurt any less, but the maybe's going around in my head were killing me. I hate limbo.

He started out with wishy washy feelings and quickly, the angry stage I was in took over and I pushed him to be clearer. Though I know he cared about me and never wanted or intended to hurt me, I figured his confusion was mostly from his guilt. I think I was partially right. I scolded him for being careless with me despite his cautious pace. He said nothing because he knew it was true. You don't ask a girl about her thoughts on children right before you ask her to be your girlfriend unless, of course, you're serious about her, which he'd led me to believe. I think he jumped in and went with feelings he may not have been sure of, but thought at the time it'd be ok because they'd eventually get there. Oops.

I don't want to be settled for. So if he didn't feel it, it was the right decision. We both cried and hugged it out. I reminded him we never had a bad time together. Not once. Maybe being blindsided was best because I never once worried the end was coming though I never took any of our moments together for granted either. I really didn't. I lived them fully and happily and that's kind of an achievement for me. So what if it was only like two and a half months? That's a pretty good improvement over my usual three weeks or the one before it that was a 10 day instant-relationship-just-add-water disaster. Still, we worked so well, part of me thinks he'll come to realize he made the wrong decision. I don't know. I'm not sure if I care. It's a gut thing. I guess we'll see.

And then Timing did something strange. The same night the Professor asked me to be exclusive, we ran into Boris at the bar where we ended our night. I hadn't seen or talked to him in nearly three years due to him just fading out of my life. Awkward at first, especially with both of us in opposite gender company.. mine clearly more intimate than his, but what we both noticed and discussed later was that our chemistry clearly hadn't faded. Not one iota.

We met a week after that to catch up and resolve the issues that created that big space in our past. It was really positive. I was happy with the Professor and Boris noticed I'd grown and seemed more grounded. I've heard that a few times recently now and felt really proud of that. And the ease we had with each other was like no time had passed, but then we've always been like that. I've never had chemistry with anyone like I've had with Boris where we can both feel the pull when we're on opposite sides of a room. It certainly made being friends and being single difficult back then because why not fall into each other when it was convenient? Surely, we wouldn't repeat that same pattern after all this time.

Yeah.. so, that might've almost happened once the Professor let me go. It was supposed to be just a friendly night, but one really good bottle of wine, some take out thai, a couple blocks for gelato, heaps and heaps of talking, a couple more not so great bottles of wine and remembering just what made the other one laugh in that special way only the other one of us could do. It was comfortable. It lent to some really honest conversation about relationships and not falling into the same pattern as we had before and because I'd just been crushed by someone who'd led me on, I  didn't want to get hurt immediately all over again and he didn't want to be that guy either. I think begrudgingly, we both decided to focus on our friendship.. even if I may have stayed over right after we made that decision because it was a school night and incredibly late with all that talking and wayyy too much wine and we promised to be good except for maybe kissing of course and Holy. Crap. that is one thing I'd forgotten about us and actually, it was nice to be reminded of that particular thing we were good at.

Surprisingly, maybe that slip into comfortable arms was the boost I needed. I also may have slightly been in the angry stage because I renewed my dating profile online. What's the harm? I'm not dead and honestly, not trying to fill a void, I swear. I put the Professor away and though I'm still clearing out the residual, I really am putting that in another area to work out separately and new focus where none of that baggage exists because like I said, if I'm not right for him, he's not right for me.. so why sit in that and be sad? That's no fucking fun. And I'm fun! AND awesome! And you know what? I met someone pretty damn quickly who agrees with me AND thinks I'm pretty. AND tiny! TINY! I know, right? He's adorable, enigmatic, super sweet and smart, a research scientist at UW and in a somewhat metal-y type band even though his first karaoke go-to song was Suspicious Minds. His second was Motorhead. And he was amazing at both. Like scary good. Also he has crazy lung power. So much he didn't even need the mic to be heard. Not kidding. So. There's that. And the Scientist (from this point heretofore he shall be called) and I never stop talking. In fact, there's so much to talk about we forget what we meant to discuss because there were so many other good tangents we went on in our first two dates (and all our texts and emails in between.. um.. we talk maybe a lot.) Also? The Scientist is a really good kisser. Like.. for reals. So. There's that. I mean, if that's a void I'm filling, then so be it. No one should go without good kisses for long. I think that's a rule.. somewhere.

There have also been plenty of check ins from friends, happy hours, some group cookie making and thus following, group cookie eating because a good heartbreak recovery requires a good amount of chocolate and sugar therapy just as much as a weekend of all-day mimosa-ing.

Retail therapy hasn't hurt either and is much better for my waistline. My favorite thing I bought recently was the cutest little white, distressed-just-so kitchen table that works with my shabby chic style and replaced my Gram's antique formica one that I love but is too big for the space. A steal for $55 at the Fremont Sunday Market where I've found many a treasure.

Tomorrow I leave for a dose of family for the weekend and celebrating my twin cousins' college graduation (wow.. I'm old). Road trips always feel like a catharsis of sorts.. like I'm letting something go.. and this one to Portland will be no different. After family time, Pixie will entertain me Saturday night with her enchanting stories over what I hope to be many drinks while we both purge our recent hurts and I'll be back home Sunday night to be part of our video audition to get into the fire conclave at Burning Man this year. I may not be doing poi now, but I'll be doing fans for sure. Fans! ON FIRE! I can can spin them even! Carnies will want me in their troupes! Or whatever the collective of carnies is. Are. Whatever.

So here I go. Continuing. Hoping. Lighting shit on fire. Knocked down, but certainly not out. Not even close. Still fighting and propelling myself forward with all the bad-ass-ness I can muster, which let me tell you, is  a fuck ton. Oh yes it is. High fives y'all!

Jinxed

I talked a good talk despite my surprise at his confusion that seemed out of no where. I listened when I wasn't posing questions that continued to give me answers I didn't understand. I was calm when I asked if I'd done something wrong, but he said I hadn't. He said it was intuition, but didn't seem confident in trusting that himself and said it was often wrong. He said he wanted fireworks and it didn't seem they were developing. But again, he wasn't sure. He didn't seem to understand much more than I did, but he showed up to tell me what he thought was going on. He was honest even though it was difficult. I respected him for that. But eventually there was nothing I could do but look into his lovely blue eyes and handsome, scruffy face and let him go.

Then I cried. Sobbed actually. Enough to need tissues when he was in front me. So much after he left I think I only slept a few hours and woke up for work with a nagging headache and red, puffy eyes.

He needs some time to think. He has a lot going on - moving out of his apartment, packing for his five-week trip to Germany and he leaves in two weeks. We were going to spend as much time together as that prep allowed before he left since he doesn't come back til the end of July. Add in that two weeks he's still here and the fact we won't be together now and that space is about as long as we've been dating. It's a long time to hold out hope or not know if he's coming back to me or be sad because my experience says he won't. But maybe. I don't know. He promised to let me know as soon as he figures it out - whether that be before he leaves or at some point after he's left. But I can't be with him while he does that. And even that small bit of hope feels like it's just asking for further disappointment.

It sucks. I'm crushed. I know it's only been a short time, but this one felt like it was going to stick. We didn't rush, we had fun together, we worked well, we made sense. I mean we were pretty fucking awesome.. and still. No guarantees. I don't get it. I stamp my foot and yell at the ceiling like a child because it's really not fair.

Wednesday was hard to get through. Friends texted, emailed and sent supportive and loving messages on Facebook in response to my statuses I thought were cryptic and the stupid relationship change I swear I'd hidden from my timeline that spelled things out pretty clearly. Stupid Facebook. And after crying off and on most of the morning, it got a little easier by the end of the day. I had a nap, a shower I found myself hoping would rinse my sad away and didn't, but still felt a little lighter after. I met girlfriends for dinner and then we dashed to make it to the cute gelato place before they closed because gelato is a miracle cure. It is. Do not question the magic of gelato. You'll regret it. And not get any gelato. So. Just don't. Another friend met us there, then another joined at my neighborhood bar where my plan was to get completely shit-faced, but in reality, I hate the spins and I'm a lightweight.. so though I finished the first double one of my favorite bartenders concocted, I barely dented the second. I had to work today. Why kick myself when I'm down by adding a hangover? Don't answer that. I can't even wallow properly. I'm still too stunned.

Though I know this is not about me and purely about the Professor, I'm wounded and finding it hard to smile. But, I just finished the first three episodes of the second season of Downton Abbey and the weekend is filled with friends to provide plenty of hugs, birthday celebrations, a going away party and even a fancy-dress dinner with famous chefs. By Sunday, when there's nothing yet planned, I hope being social and pretending I'm ok translates into actually being true. I just have to keep going and continue the usual recovery stuff - drinking, eating, especially more gelato (seriously.. MAGIC I tell you!), and sleeping.. at least until I don't fit in my clothes or I'm not all achey in the heart anymore, whichever comes first.

Stupid heart anyway. Stupid things that are simply too good to be true. Stupid future I thought I saw. Stupid runny mascara. Stupid Universe that never helps a girl out. Sigh..

Perspective

Eight days ago, a man, who clearly wasn't in his right mind, walked into a local cafe in the University District and shot four people. Two men died immediately. Another woman died later at the hospital. The cook who was shot three times, miraculously survived. One man sitting at the bar with his friends was saved simply because he went to the restroom seconds before the shooting. His friend who took his seat while he was gone wasn't so lucky. Not 30 minutes later, the same shooter car-jacked a woman downtown, a married mother of two, pistol-whipped her, shot her at point-blank range, and ran over her legs after stealing her car while she lay there dying in the parking lot. Two women and a homeless man came to her aid, but could only comfort her in her last moments. As the police surrounded him that afternoon miles away  in West Seattle, he knelt down and shot himself. He died at the hospital that evening. Six days earlier, a father of two was killed just driving through an intersection near my neighborhood by a bullet meant for someone else. His parents and his children were in the car with him.

I've driven by that cafe hundreds of times. I drive through that intersection in my neighborhood at least twice a week. These weren't incidents of 2am gang violence. They were horrific tragedies that took place in broad daylight that suddenly brought perspective to regular people going about our day. The victims could've been anyone and, in fact, they were. And I know ‛regular' people die every day from random stuff like this, but Seattle has seemed relatively safe. The Capitol Hill Massacre almost exactly six years ago would say differently because it feels eerily similar and as horrifically sad as last week's shooting. And this shooting, by all definitions, was a massacre which stunned the city, left us all in shock for a couple of days while we mourned for strangers we didn't know, debated second amendment rights in general as well as for the mentally ill, didn't get any work done because we kept reading the next story about the victims, the people who knew them, and looking at pictures from every memorial service across the city.

Now more than a week later, people are back to living their lives, as well they should. Of course the friends and family of the victims are still grieving. I drove by today and the cafe still looks closed though the flowers and candles have multiplied exponentially. People were standing outside reading the letters to the victims and letters of outrage that cover the windows. It's a sobering sight. And it wouldn't be a proper tragedy if the Westboro Baptist Church wasn't planning to picket at the funeral of the mother of two because they think every negative situation in the world is the fault of homosexuality and because they're simply hateful and disrespectful asshats who Jesus would vehemently reprimand for being lousy human beings if he ever met them in person. But I digress..

You can't constantly live in fear. Nothing is guaranteed - especially life, which death is apart of. You have to keep moving forward as if you'll have another tomorrow, but you should, of course, appreciate today. Live in the moment. Tell those you love that you do indeed love them.. because you never know. Airplanes crash. So do cars. Hell, cannibalism is suddenly a thing. Who knew? And crazy fucking people shoot innocent people all the time. It sucks.. but it happens.

So I'm sure you don't need the reminder, but I'm going to say it anyway. Call your mom and tell her you love her. Just because. Send your grandmother a card. In the mail. Call a friend you haven't seen in a while. Don't text. Forgive someone who slighted you. Because in the big picture, it really doesn't matter.

Reach out. Hold on. Breathe in. Love.