Tuesday, May 31, 2005

John

In terms of John, I felt like we broke up all over again. The first part of the evening, we "watched" the Italian Job in very awkward silence. I played with the dog for a little while, but after a time, even we tire of each other's company. Dinner, again, in a kind of awkward small talk to other people kind of mode, and then I got a call on my cell. I went into the sunroom to take it, and fell asleep in the rocking chair. After an indeterminate amount of time, he came in and we started talking in a rather painful way. He said (for the first time) that he had intended to break up with me on that Sunday at my house, and not abandon me to the CTA with no mercy like he did. He reiterated the fact that he just didn't care as much as he used to, and that "I couldn't keep going the way it was". I guess it came down to the fact that I cared too much about things, and that I was too high-maintenance for him. I'm not sure I understood everything he was trying to communicate (but he was trying very hard and it was clearly very stressful). I guess I must have been at my coldest about then- as hard as he was trying to be expressive, I was trying to remain calm and to stay at a certain rational plateau. After a while, I got really freaked out and I walked out of his house, sobbing like a crazy person. I called my mom to get me home, but right before she came I called John and asked him to come outside. (I feel really stupid writing this. If you are reading it, then I must not have deleted it, but I thought about it. A lot.) I guess I couldn't just walk away. So, with my mom sitting there in the car, ready to whisk me away to emotional stability, I go up to him, call him stupid (and I think I swore, but I'm not sure) and gave him a hug and walked away. I got into the car, just a wreck, and he is just standing there and I am just sitting there. He looked more confused than I thought it was possible to look. (Yes, I am quite aware of the many run-on sentences, and I don't mind them. Also the crazy parenthetical and fragments.) My mom pushed me out of the car to go back and talk to him. "But I have nothing left to say," I said. "Go tell him that." And that was that, and I did, and it was an absurdist kind of silence for a while. He says "I'm sorry" in a voice that suggests that he wished it meant something. I jumped on that, but it was a start to a conversation which I didn't expect to happen at all. After that, I stayed for maybe an hour and we resumed making small talk and generalized chatter for a while. It amuses me how curious he is about prom yet how afraid he is to ask me about my plans. I know he wants to, but he won’t do it and I won’t tell him. I guess it is mostly some kind of sick joke of what walls we have erected to keep each other out now. It amazes me to think that we were so close that we didn’t have walls before, and now, just weeks later, we are like fencers, dancing around each other and guarding our words and expressions.
I don’t know. I still have hope, but being at his house that night was like rubbing salt in an open wound, showing off all the things that he doesn’t want anymore, all the things I can’t have or that I don’t have a right to anymore. How does that ever feel normal? How can you make a transition like that? I guess that is why most people don’t- it is too bloody hard to switch lenses like that. Maybe in public it will all be the same because I felt like we were a pretty group-friendly couple and then there are no appearances to keep up. But I don’t have that one person to share things with, to call and say “Want to grab some lunch?” That was him, but now what? And I can’t even imagine what he will do, because he is more inept socially than I am.
I know you know this, but I guess I should say it anyway: this whole thing was probably more for my benefit as for yours. It seems important to make sure things are clear enough to commit to words, especially when they can’t rely on expressions, gestures, or context. They have to stand alone. Depressingly alone.
I feel like I should end this email on a happier note, but I don’t have one right now. Sorry about that.

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