I went down to Orange County to see my family and celebrate my daughter’s fourth birthday with them. I was cringing at the thought of staying the night there, sleeping in my three-year-old nephew’s bed. Instead, it made perfect sense to me that I would drive all the way back up to LA so I could sleep in my bed, and preferably with Highland Park. BUT Highland Park did not answer my text. No. Not for many hours. He has been making some general yet provocative yet vague contact every day with me since we decided to take a break. So, I didn’t think it highly inappropriate that I would ask him to meet me; he was giving every indication he wanted to see me too. Eventually, a few hours later, he responded that: He felt like doo-doo, but he might be able to rally himself.
I replied: I am sorry you aren’t feeling well. Don’t worry about it.
Which, when I read it now, doesn’t sound angry at all. Damn.
I tried. I truly did. To let him know how upset I was, but all I sounded was pathetic.
I need to cut the cord tethering me to him.
This is not good.
I mean, don’t get me wrong, if he called me up right now and said he wanted to see me, you bet your sweet ass I would open my door and my legs.
But he is not sending that and for one, I am not waiting around impatiently for it.
I am quietly and calmly moving on. Stealthily too.
My ex from High School, Jon, came to the party. I invited him. I mean, if he wants to “fight for this” he might as well begin with my entire family.
He was charming in his usual way. Talking to my step-dad Kenny with ease. Not an easy task. I kept looking at Jon sideways, wondering and assessing. Could I do it? Go for another ride on this mary-go-round? I noticed he was wearing flip-flops. He always wore flip-flops. I noticed he was not wearing deodorant. He never wore deodorant. Fuckin Hippy at Heart. I went to my only Grateful Dead concert with him when I was 16. We ate mushrooms, and he yelled at me. That is about all I remember of that.
After dinner, I went with Jon to his house to hang out for a bit. We walked to the store to get a bottle of wine, my idea, and hung out afterwards sitting on his deck talking.
I didn’t like the wine at all. It was a Syrah and was bitter and tannic.
I barely drank it. I didn’t even finish half a glass over two hours.
I did like getting slightly stoned later. Once again, my idea. He said he was perfectly happy to follow my lead on all of that stuff. I voiced my concerns about what I had heard and remembered of his drinking. He said he only drinks three or four times a week. I told him that was a lot.
He is trying so damn hard.
I have no physical connection, though.
We talked about sex stuff. He doesn’t feel like he could share me with anyone else once we are committed to each other and with all my polyamory stuff happening, that comment was very unattractive to me and made me miss HP all the more. Damn HP.
Jon drove me back to my brother’s house and held my hand as we walked to the front door. He didn’t try to kiss me, though.
I was relieved, to be honest.
He wants me to move in with him in Laguna. He is already decorating his spare room for my daughter. He wants to take me on a trip. He says we can visit his friends in Montana any Summer. He would live with me in a foreign country. He wants to have a baby with me.
If all of that isn’t way overwhelming, then I don’t know what is.
The juxtaposition of being rejected by my husband, disregarded by my lover, and then being intensely pursued by my ex is mindboggling. I don’t know how else to describe it.
Is THIS my life?