Tuesday, February 2, 2010

Hello, Monday

Monday. Usually a day of refreshing back-to-work energy for me. Most people loathe Monday; I embrace it. It’s the beginning of a new week. New activities on the horizon. Usually.

Today is not one of those Mondays for me. Today I woke up feeling groggy and sick. I didn’t sleep well – I kept waking up over and over only to remember that this past weekend was not, in fact, a dream at all. Sleep was my only hope for my mind to shut up. And even then, bad thoughts swam in my REM cycle.

I lost something Saturday. I lost a guy, a relationship. Okay, so I didn’t misplace it – I was relieved of girlfriend duty (thank you friend for telling me to stop saying “dumped”). I had certain expectations of what I wanted, things I thought to be fairly reasonable: more time, more attention. I was angry at not getting these things I had once had earlier on in the relationship and resentful that it was diminishing before my eyes. I suppose I was, in essence, just gripping sand. I didn’t understand why I was losing ground and I guess I still don’t understand, really.

I feel mad, I feel sad, I feel confused and hurt. My heart feels heavy and my stomach sick. My ego is bruised. I’m completely and utterly humiliated. I feel like a complete idiot and that pisses me off, for lack of a more eloquent way to say it.

I always thought it was a strange thing that people would try to argue with their now-former significant other as to why they shouldn’t be dumped. I mean, seriously, you can’t really argue your way into making that person feel a certain way toward you – that is desperate, pathetic and sad. Although, now being the person relieved of duty (I’ve only ever been on the other side), I can understand the irrational distress of wanting reasons why, wanting to know what I could have done for things to be better. I got the bullshit list of “I’m trying to make you feel better about the fact that I’m dumping you” reasons, which only made me feel smaller. I guess there’s no nice way to do it, but I didn’t get a last anything. I’ve never had such a clean cut and although I’m not one for a drawn-out anything, I find myself pathetically hoping that when my phone dings, it’s him. I disgust myself with these embarrassingly hopeless thoughts.

However in this instance, I’m not sure that there was anything I could have done. I suppose it just wasn’t meant to be, and I just happen to feel more invested than the other party (hello, embarrassing). Of course I want to analyze and make justifications as to why I’m definitely not to blame – he was too robotic, too unemotional, too logical, too busy, too uncomfortable, too something that makes me not have to look at me. I get the sympathy lines like, “you’re too good for him,” or “he wasn’t man enough to handle how deep you run and how dynamic you are” or other crazy Beth-propaganda that just makes me feel patronized and stupid. I don’t believe those things, at least not right now while I’m feeling totally burned and insecure. None of this makes me feel better. Or makes sense to me.

I do, however, feel robbed in various ways. Robbed of my dignity in the sense that I feel as if I had been cut out in the way volleyball practice has to be cut out on Sundays to make room for some other, better activity. I cringe at that thought, which makes me feel disposable. I think, “well, if I was that disposable, then he must not have really cared at all in the first place.” This might be wrong, but it sure as hell feels pretty accurate in this key-slamming moment. Which, in turn, cues the humiliation.

I wasn’t searching for a relationship by any means. I had just come off one of the worst weeks of my life when my roommate dragged me out to some random soccer outing. I walked on that astro turf field with zero expectations resenting that I had been forced to put jeans on when all I really wanted to do was hide at home. But by the end of the night, I found myself intrigued by a guy who I was instantly attracted to for his humor, smarts, good looks and exciting attitude. And I continued with that because I thought he was fabulous. Not because it made sense, or because it was a good time to be in a relationship or that he looked good on paper. I genuinely liked him and just enjoyed being around him. And I truly thought he felt those same things about me because I thought that was why people date in the first place, right? Because they like one another? Perhaps just his feelings dwindled and mine didn’t. If that’s the case, well, I suppose I can’t be angry at that.


Whatever the case, I feel slightly in shock. I mean, things weren’t really going the way I wanted in the sense that I felt I wasn’t getting enough of his time, but I guess I just thought that it was just a hiccup and that it would be okay in the end because they way he used to look me right in the eye before he kissed me spoke louder than circumstance. I suppose I was jaded. Again, cue feeling positively stupid.

I can’t seem to shake this rug-out-from-under feeling. I wish I could just be exactly the way that I thought others should be when I broke up with them – “can’t we just be adults, agree that it didn’t work and just move on” but it’s much easier to be that way if you’re not the one being dumped. I’ve never been dumped. This is awful. I can’t even think of his face without feeling a knot in my stomach, not to mention the other physical and non-physical reminders like my toothpaste, or my socks or a sweatshirt or an entire town. It’s really goddamn annoying.

I don’t know how I’ll feel better but I will assume distraction and time will yield personal growth and realizations about what other things I want, don’t want blah blah blah blah…

Time. Time. Tick tock.

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