On January 28, four weeks after he dropped me like the proverbial hot potato, I emailed my Detroit rock-star cyber ex-boyfriend, Michael, to wish him a happy birthday and to ask him to send me the things (personal possessions, as well as my heart) that I had left behind at his house (what was to be our house). In all honesty, I also tossed a fishing line into the river of my fantasy, just in case he had changed his mind.
On January 29 at 8:34 a.m., he informed me via email that he had found his “perfect fit” and is engaged to be married. Twelve hours later, at 8:35 p.m. (after no additional communication on my part), he asked me to cease further communication and informed me that our “relationship” had been a major screw-up on his part. He did not mention my things, but he did suggest that I move on with my life.
I replied, “No problem. Just send me my things.”
And he’d better…I’m not sure either one of us wants to discover the vindictive side of this particular scorned woman.
Regarding my post from Saturday, January 24, the suggestion that I might stay:
Pay no attention to the crazy lady behind the (circa 1978) beaded curtain. That was the wine talking after an idyllic summer-in-January-day, complete with cookout and campfire. Shortly thereafter, however, a loud and heated argument ensued regarding (black) cowboys and the placement of (my) furniture. And he's (Scott) not even from around here. It must be something in the water. Or the wine. Or maybe it was the Irish Cream...
So, to clarify…I AM NOT staying.
To further clarify: I am not playing games or toying with Scott’s emotions, though I might be playing with mine. I have told him from the first day we met (and repeatedly since) that there is no point in pursuing this…thing…because I am leaving. And I cannot take him with me, any more than I can take my cats, or my plants, or my Dad’s handmade bookcase or coffee table. This is – still – for me, about letting go, becoming free.
So, we have agreed (and disagreed, repeatedly), that we will enjoy whatever time we have together. Neither of us wants to be in this town or even this state; we are both actively seeking our individual ways out. But neither of us wants to be alone in the interim. So we are together. For now. And it’s good. For now. He has raised the bar for me and I have raised my standards (with regard to relationships, love, trust and expectations). I have inspired and motivated him (with regard to challenging himself and going after what he wants and needs). We are good for each other. For now.
And then, when the time comes, we will let go.