Earning my stripes.

    I continue to give props to my friend The Gentleman who once suggested I like holding onto old skeltons. This one statement of his started a revolution within me. His rare honesty, willingness to pull back the layers and the humility to look past the fight... make my knees weak and inspire me often to change my mindset. I'm pretty sure he was born riding a white horse.

    I’ve often been called an elitist, heck… I think I’ve even described my actions that way. Some even tell me initially they were intimidated by me and found me stuck up. Truth is I really am none of those things. I just tend to keep to myself if you’re not amusing or intriguing me. Ok… I am a bit of an elitist. Point is this behavior of mine tends to give me a lot of thinking time. Often people scare me because I will be so deep in thought, or rather, conversation with myself, I don’t even notice them in front of me.

    Lately, I’ve been rolling around a couple conversations I’ve had with Carl. Each one he’s basically said the same thing; I broke his heart and he never felt I was “in it” with him. For the longest time, I’ve been beating myself up about the way we came to be who we are to one another today… mere acquaintances. During my latest conversation with myself I had an epiphany… I need to get these thoughts out of my head and continue cleaning those skeletons out of my closet. Bear with me here…

    Dear Carl,

    I am posting this letter to you here because you’ve pulled the plug on our friendship... yet again and I also know you no longer come here.

    [World, welcome to my passive-aggressive moment.]

    You were caught breaking your own rules and with this new decision of yours I’ve had to fight the urge to tell you just how hypocritical and immature your actions were. Truth is, I would never tell you this, because regardless of everything, I meant all I said. You’ve sat by and let me beat myself up over things I did for the best interest of my daughter and myself, yet until 3 weeks ago, you were enjoying your cake and eating it, too. Lunches with the ex and dinners with the new girl. Rock on, playa. Honestly, I hold no grudges, though.

    I missed you… missed us and was willing to deal with the consequences of my actions, because it still gave me a little more time with you. I still have the emails, a random voice mail, Uncle Daryl, the memories were we seem so real I would swear I could touch us. Remember, the freezing cold walk we took to the grocery store for root beer floats and when we got home, cuddled under the blankets to get warm and fell asleep forgetting all about the ice cream? Or the time we missed the train four times in one morning. I just finished the last of the lotion left over from our stay at the Westin and I still get the email alerts every time your favorite local band is playing.

    The reason all of this bothers me so, is each time I talked to you about the dissolution of us, you lead me to believe I broke your heart. You cried. You begged. You told me how angry and of the mess you became because of it. Swore I was one of two girls you said those three little words too… the other being your ex wife. Yet, within two weeks of our parting, you had another girlfriend… not just dates… a girlfriend. And then you finally came clean about that old flame. And that’s ok… I already knew about her.

    At our lunches, we would sit and talk about where we are now, what we’re doing and how we maintain our sanity. You would always ask “are you seeing anyone?” To which I mostly replied “no”. You would then say the thing that irritates me the most… “Well… someday you’ll find some guy who will appreciate you and then you’ll be happy”.

    And I realize all over again, you still don’t get it and you probably never will. Your tone alleged that you felt sorry for me. There’s no reason for that. I am happy. Now. Right now. I don’t need someone else to define me… in a way I guess I needed to prove that to myself. I cared about where we talked about going too much to destroy it the way I’d done in the past. I needed to heal and work that out of myself before I could move on to an “us”. And if I rip off all the layers, you are a large part of why I stepped outside the circle of new boys, too.

    For someone you found it so easy to say ‘I love you’ to, it was even easier to replace me. During our lunches, I would look at you and often wonder if you were happy… truly happy. You wouldn’t look me in the eye very long, but your eyes never seemed to sparkle the same… maybe they do when you look at her. I guess now, I’ll never have to worry about finding the courage to ask you.

    My best… always,


    No comments:


    Related Posts with Thumbnails