Serenity has been downgraded.
By quite a bit.
There is a reason, and those of you who have been reading lately might surmise that this has something to do with The Crush – and you would be right.
Friday afternoon I get a text message from him saying he will be busy for “August”.
And indeed he is. When he explained his schedule to me on Saturday I was feeling positively dizzy attempting to keep up. With a number of courses and conferences he will have little time for frivolity.
That translates to zero time for me. Apparently.
I knew from the message on Friday that it marked the beginning of the end. I could tell in his tone on Saturday morning that he was officially beginning his retreat. Evacuation sirens were beginning to sound in my head, lights were flashing behind my eyelids and I was frozen in my place, my throat constricting, my thoughts stalled unable to make a move, not feeling sure of what the next move should be. Or perhaps more accurately, knowing what the next move should be but refusing to accept it.
By Sunday lunchtime I had a text message blinking at me “…feel crap…not fair to you…you cant wait for me…my work load is too full…you need to decide what you want to do”
And there it was. The artful ditch. Make all the arguments to suggest that it’s not working out, and then handball the final yes or no decision. Make it my choice.
Nice. Not to mention, a little condescending.
My response went through about 5 iterations, sad, angry, resentful, pitiful, before I finally settled on resigned and (I hope) gracious, with a liberal peppering of self-deprecating humour so that he wouldn’t feel so bad.
Though admittedly I was, merely 2 hours later, fuming that he had dumped me via SMS and did not follow up with the promised phonecall later in the day to talk through it and/or see that I was ok.
I was also wishing fervently that I had refrained from inlcuding the “xx” at the end of my response. Why? Why do I always do that?!!
By this morning I was morose, possibly due to lack of sleep after having sat, gaping, horrified even, through a 60 Minutes special -on how Australian men don’t think there are any good women left in this country, and are apparently therefore forced to flee to the Ukraine to find a decent wife-, in addition to being haunted by ghosts-of-boyfriends-past throughout the night, and concluding with absolute certainty by 3am that I was going to grow old alone and that no man exists who will find me worthy of fighting for, worthy of compromise, worthy of a few sacrifices in their plans or schedule to meet me in the middle.
Perhaps he wasn’t right for me, perhaps this is a good thing, after all, I haven’t exactly been the cheeriest of lovebirds these past few months.
I did still love him, (it sounds melodramatic, but he just had the ability to switch on a light inside, something that I didn’t think anyone else would ever do again and whenever I saw him, I was done-for, every time), and it’s still painful, and despite the little pep talks I have been giving myself every hour or so, I am still a little humiliated. Particularly, as he appears to be so disgustingly chirpy today.
Whatever, I’ve “downloaded” now.
I trust your weekend fared better?! 🙂