I’m unsure how exactly it happened, but at some point this afternoon, I must have gone into a new phase. A new phase of getting over someone? A new phase of life? I have no idea. But something inside of me shifted.
As you may recall, I was planning on spending a thrilling weekend with my “ex-ex,” or “the one” and his looney tune of a new girlfriend.
I must have been in a state of pure oblivion (read: vodka stupor) when I agreed on these plans. Granted “the one” and I are still close, “best friends,” in fact; but as much as I tell myself I’m over him- it really urks me to think about him being with another girl that he claims to love, much less sleeping with one. Although I should probably make it clear that in the 8 years I was obsessed with”the one” I never slept with him, and not for lack of trying… but I suppose that’s a story for another day.
I spent the majority of Friday afternoon trying to figure out how the weekend would go, how I would act around “the one,” and more importantly- how he would act around me. I wasn’t sure I wanted to find out.
In all the time that I’ve known “the one,” regardless of whether or not we’ve been dating other people – “the one” has always treated me special. Not “special” in the retarded sense, although now that I think about it- he probably always thought of me as this weak little puppy who would do anything for him. That makes me sick.
Anyboohoohoo- I came to the conclusion that I did want to remain friends with “the one.” And since I’ve made it a recent habit to say exactly what is on my mind regardless of who it may offend, I decided it would probably be best for everyone in the situation if I skipped out on this one. On top of that, I’d been feeling quite homesick lately, and I figured it would be the perfect weekend to go and visit my family… which is something I usually avoid unless presents are involved. Still, packing up my dirty laundry and heading south seemed to be the best option for me.
I spent every weekend for the last few months with “the ex,” and for the first time I found myself with absolutely nothing to do and no one to entertain me.
It was actually quite fabulous.
I went through old picture albums and clothes. I spent some quality time with my Grandparents. I watched about 6 movies… movies that I wanted to watch… and I got some excellent face time with my puppy dog.
I woke up early this morning and drove back to Dallas. I rolled down the windows, let the crisp 75 degree wind hit my face and sang loud to music that had nothing to do with love, or heartache, or was in any way associated with the ex. More specifically I listened to Kid Cudi’s “Pursuit of Happiness” on repeat… which is completely out of character for me. Rap music usually makes me want to punch babies, but today- it made me happy.
On a whim, I decided to stop by my friends house where “the one” and his girlfriend were staying. I let myself in and immediately saw the two of them cuddled up asleep on the couch. For a short moment, I panicked, and felt my breath at a stand still. I decided I had made a mistake, and just as I was turning to leave, “the one” woke up and sleepily said “hello.”
The feeling had passed and I was genuinely happy to see him. I apologized for waking him up and said that I just wanted to say a quick “hi” before they left town. At this point “crazy” briefly woke up and I introduced myself. I told them I’d better be going and I quickly headed out.
All in all, is was slightly uncomfortable, but seeing the two of them together wasn’t half as bad as I thought it would be.
When I got home, I did something I rarely do.
I started cleaning.
I did all the dishes, vacuumed, finally unpacked my suitcase full of things that I had been keeping at the ex’s, and folded clean clothes that had been on my floor for over a month.
A month. I realized that as of Friday, it has been a month.
I’ve spent the last month crying, , avoided working out, and spending all of my energy wondering if he was thinking about me as much as I was thinking about him.
After I was done cleaning, I lit some incense and candles in my room that didn’t look like my closet just threw up, put on some music… and I sat.
I thought about the mistakes I have made in the past, my goals, my dreams , my future. I thought about me.
Just before I sat down and wrote this, I realized that this weekend was the first time in a month that wasn’t worried about my phone ringing. I didn’t spend every moment wondering what “the ex” was doing.” I didn’t surround myself with things that made me think of him.
And dude, I feel better. I’m not over it just yet, but things are clearly looking up.