*Just a bit of fiction I’m working on.
He is the ex that never went away. The one who treats me like the one that got away when his radar goes off and informs him that I’m about to be happy with someone else. This time, he is playing the game differently. This time, when he told me that he couldn’t live without me there was no guy in the wings proposing to show me how different they could be from every guy who came before them. This time, it was just us deciding that all the bullshit we went through in the past didn’t compare to how much life would be full of bullshit if we didn’t have each other.
He made my heart do the trust fall six feet above the black hole he let me float around in the last time. He caught me by my heart strings and held my head up so I didn’t realize I was still dangling over the hole. I didn’t realize that this time I was in danger of falling too deep to be rescued. Where I would pass the rabbit in his wonderland who tries to warn me that it was too late to turn back.
Every few moon cycles I end up in the same situation with him. Where I am so totally consumed with him that I cannot function. If I don’t hear from him then I’m paralyzed wondering why all of sudden he doesn’t take a moment out of his day before booty call hours to acknowledge my existence. When we do speak it’s because I reached out. But those interactions leave me more frustrated. I try to be funny and I get a dry “lol” in response. I try to be passionate and I get no response.
Sometimes I think the only time he sees me is when I’m naked. Those few moments before we strip where he wraps his arm around me and lets the fingers on his free hand intertwine with mine. He kisses me on the forehead. He tells me how good it feels to be lying down next to me. Then I show him how happy I am that he’s lying next to me too. I ignore the faint scent of alcohol on his breathe. It’s the scent of his honesty. It’s the combination to the lock of the place where he protects his feelings.
I feel myself falling deeper. Aware that I’m dangling above the black hole. The rabbit tapping on his clock. But I don’t care. Moments later he is snoring in my ear. I try to make my breathing match his so I can close my eyes and forget that I’m falling.
When the first beam of sunlight shines over our situation I hold on because I don’t want to fall back into the darkness. He opens his eyes. Our breathing is no longer synchronized. Our fingers don’t even linger near each other. He begins to withdraw and leaves me going through withdrawal.
Somewhere in between the cuddling and him making comments about us getting married someday I get pulled in and left completely unprepared when he acts like I’m a nuisance. Like I have no reason to be contacting him and living off of the vibes of togetherness he was putting out there just a few hours before.
Then I become the girl again who is up looking at his social media profiles for some clue as to why he is pulling away. I become the girl who clicks on those articles filled with Steps to Make Him Fall In Love With You. Last time I checked, he already was. But days like today he does not act like it.
In the past, the days filled with distance turn into a week where he ensures me that he is just going through something and doesn’t want to talk. But he is on a liking-spree in between posting funny memes on Instagram.
Nights like this, a glass of wine is not enough. There aren’t any clues on his social media pages. I thank the Universe that I don’t have a car because I feel fueled enough to drive over to the bar where he is mostly sitting in or his house that is not accessible by public transportation. In my heart, I know that if he is at the bar some other girl is sitting on my stool. If he’s at home he’s probably texting someone else.
The last time we spoke he said he didn’t want to talk. He didn’t seem angry, he seemed hurt. The type of hurt that only a woman can cause. Which leads me back into the dark place where reality sits in the corner with a glass full of whiskey telling me that the best way to handle this shot is to do it quickly. Don’t hesitate. Take it all in. Let it burn my throat. Expect it to turn my stomach. Know that a hangover is inevitable. Reality taps me on the shoulder and says he’s hurt like you’re hurt. Wherever he is, he’s taking his shot. We’re both digesting the reality that the person we love doesn’t love us back, and it’s hard to swallow.