In the months before everything went down the big toilet of
badness and sadness I made an online connection with a guy, or actually he made
it with me. I had permission from T.E.
and yet I still felt guilty even just sending the occasional email back and
forth. It could often take me a week, or
even a month, to reply to his missives because it felt even a tiny bit like the
disrespect I felt when T.E. spent nights with other women. At the same time it was sometimes the only
tonic for my beat-up pride, and so email I did.
The emails were tame, benign even. Tiny bits of flirtations tucked in around “do
you have any pets?” “What’s your
favorite movie?” “Boxers or
briefs?” Then my world went “BOOM” and I
asked Mr. Man to excuse me for a few weeks.
I needed to grieve; to show respect for the relationship that I’d had
with T.E. and to have any interactions with some other guy, even of the benign
type, was wrong. Just wrong. He was very nice about it, wished me the best
and also big luck and left me alone. And
I figured that was probably the last I’d hear from him, having thrown cold
water all over our tiny, little ember of heat.
So it was a nice surprise a few weeks later when Mr. Man
emailed again just to check how I was doing and let me know he was thinking of
me. (say it with me, everybody –
Awwwww…) We went back to emailing, but
with the understanding that I was still all shapes and sizes of broken, still on
the razors edge of sad all the time, still nobody’s flirt. But the emails lead quickly to online
chatting.
I had no expectations.
Wasn’t looking for a new guy or a new anybody. Wasn’t looking for love or lust. I wasn’t looking. So the chatting was really… nice.
It was really very nice.
It took me a few days to figure out what it was I liked
about the connection: distraction. I’d been drowning in thoughts and feelings,
overwhelmed by introspection and now I had something completely NOT my
dead-and-broken relationship to think about.
I could focus on learning the
mundane details of this new person’s life instead of wallowing in my own.
I also really enjoyed having someone pay attention to
me. For the last few months of my time
with T.E. that was the thing I craved and got less and less of from him: attention.
It gradually shaved away all my shiny surfaces and bright colors. I got smaller and quieter. I got dismal.
I got dull. But all of the sudden
someone was paying me even a fraction of the attention that I missed from T.E.
and it polished me back up! I got shiny
again! Like Dorothy and Toto I went from
sad shades of grey back to Technicolor!
My life had a soundtrack and dancing midgets (munchkins, Oompa-Loompas,
Ewoks – pick your perky poison) and special effects. All from just a little attention.
Sadly this story of Mr. Man has a sort of lame ending – the cool guy ended up
disappearing without even a puff of smoke or a "Sheboof!" noise. At this point I have no idea where he is or
what the hell he was looking for. I also
let the positive mojo of the interactions walk me into a stupid mistake, but
nobody got hurt (most importantly me!) and I needed the lesson to complete
the transition. But even though Mr. Man
was really Mr. Poof I still owed him thanks. Thanks for attaching his towline to my bumper
and using his winch to pull me out of the wallow mud that was my life. Thanks for being a living example of the very
wise rule “don’t get caught up in the drama” – a lesson I’ve always known but
never proved was true. (It is true, by
the way. Totally true.) And thanks for giving me that little boost to
my ego that I needed to think about moving forward to the next chance. Because I think I will get another
chance.
(hope, hope, hope...)
Taking the lesson of "distraction" to heart that has been my watchword ever since. Working out and reading and photography and hobbies and... and... and... The most important thing has been rule number one: DON'T THINK ABOUT T.E. Don't think about the relationship or the end or the good times or the bad times or anything else. Just don't think about it. I know I'm not over things, but I'm not smothered in those things either and that's a huge step forward. Distraction ho!
Taking the lesson of "distraction" to heart that has been my watchword ever since. Working out and reading and photography and hobbies and... and... and... The most important thing has been rule number one: DON'T THINK ABOUT T.E. Don't think about the relationship or the end or the good times or the bad times or anything else. Just don't think about it. I know I'm not over things, but I'm not smothered in those things either and that's a huge step forward. Distraction ho!
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