[Note: This is a totally personal post. I don’t expect many people to be interested. I’m posting it because I feel like writing about it. That’s all.]
I got not-dumped tonight by a girl I was in a not-relationship with.
That’s what we called the thing we weren’t in: our “not-relationship”.
And, instead of feeling not-hurt, which is what I expected with all these other “not-“ terms going around, I actually felt quite hurt.
You know that whole “six months of monk” thing I’ve talked about? Where I was planning on being single for six months? Yeah. That thing.
I haven’t been very faithful to my initial goal. In fact, I’ve broken with it several times. Nothing that ever developed into a full relationship, but little things here and there that your average monk would get paddled for were he to do the things I’ve done.
Those weeks when I haven’t posted? Or when posts have been light? Yeah. That was me not being a monk. I haven’t written about anything about it because I decided that I wanted to keep my personal life personal.
But this girl was different. I don’t believe that I’ll ever meet the “perfect person,” but some people come so much closer to ideal than others, and she was the closest so far. Unfortunately, it only lasted a month. A bloody month.
It started with a comment that turned into banter that turned into conversation that turned into a talk over coffee that turned into a talk over a movie that turned into…
A not-relationship.
The problem? As she let me know the next morning, she had a boyfriend. He lives in England. He’s nice. She likes him.
I understood. I figured our little thing was over like the twenty-four hour flu and that I’d probably never see her again. I was disappointed, but the situation was weird, and I understood.
Contrary to what I expected, though, we talked about it and continued not-seeing each other. And things got interesting. And then I totally fell for her.
For many reasons…
She doesn’t care about my blog. She doesn’t care about my job. She doesn’t care about money. She doesn’t care about my car. She doesn’t care if I’ve been published, in what, or been on TV.
All she cared about was being around me. It was… a first. I didn’t have to prove myself. She just liked me. Not for what I have, or what I’ve done, but just for who I am. And I liked her for the same reason. It was a beautiful thing.
She has self-respect – real self-respect. And a backbone thick as a lamp-post. She didn’t put up with any of my diva crap. She put me in my place when I deserved it. It was exactly what I needed.
As things progressed, I naturally felt closer to her. I fell for her. I looked forward to every minute I could get from her. My work schedule was hectic this week, so I was only able to get an hour or two here and there, but it was enough to hold me over.
Then, as I was leaving for southern Oregon two days ago, she grabbed onto me. She told me not to go. I didn’t want to leave, but part of my deal with Microsoft is that I work when I’m supposed to work. So I left.
Before leaving, though, we made plans for her to spend the night at my place tonight. I was supposed to drive up from my event (two hours away), head to her place, and pick her up. It was all I could think about. That day. Yesterday. Today. That’s it.
And when I got to her place tonight, she was waiting for me, but she didn’t have any bags packed. She didn’t look like someone who was getting ready to go anywhere. And it was for a good reason.
She led me over to the couch, sat me down, and had a little talk with me about the English man. It turns out she’s still in love with him, but didn’t realize it until yesterday. She thought she was getting over him and that it was something that needed to end. She was wrong.
This is one of the reasons I loved being with her. She’s completely open and honest. She doesn’t hide anything, and she tells me what she’s thinking when she’s thinking it. Instead of taking the easy way out by delaying as long as possible having to tell me about how she felt about him, she told me immediately. When you care about someone, as she does me, it isn’t easy to say something like, “Sorry, but… you’re out of the picture.” I’ve had to say it to people, and even when you know it’s the right thing, it bloody hurts.
Which is what I did when she told me. I bloody hurt.
I went home. And sobbed. Just completely broke down and sobbed. It wasn’t so much that I was attached to the not-relationship we didn’t have, but that I was thinking about all the potential there was between us that wouldn’t be realized. She’s a genuinely good person. The fact that she was so quick to tell me exactly what was going on just makes me respect her that much more.
In the middle of my sobbing, though, I had a nice moment. My sister was in town this week, and she told me that she thought I was completely soulless and lacking in depth or caring for other people – that I had lost touch. Oddly, a few other people told me more or less the same thing this week. It was totally Dickens, like I had spent a really long week with those god damned ghosts, showing me what an ass I can be.
When my sister told me I was soulless, I didn’t have an argument. It made for a pretty uncomfortable moment. I didn’t want to agree with her, but no words were coming to mind with which to defend myself. It was more or less the same with the other people who approached me this week.
That’s why I had my nice moment while sobbing. I realized why I was sobbing, and that I was sobbing. It was a clear indication that I’m not soulless. I care about other people. Right now, it’s Her, and in no small amount, and I sobbed tonight for everything that didn’t have a chance to happen between us.
Which, in a roundabout way, is good. I’m human, yo. I have feelings and care about things. I don’t care that I was not-dumped by the girl I was in a not-relationship with. What I care about is that I’m not going to have her company anymore, and that’s a huge loss to me. I sobbed for that loss.
And now I have a way to respond to my sister.