March 23, 2012
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Saturday…
I end up texting J before I go to sleep. I fill him in on D, and he bemoans the fact that neither of us can seem to get relationships right anymore. I tell him that I’m attending a benefit after the training on Saturday after all. Then I suggest that we meet at one of the smaller bars. It’s generally not terribly rowdy. I ask him to see if he can drum up some others. I can drink some wine while the rest of them sip beer. We’ll all joke, laugh and bitch.
It won’t be a perfect time but it will be world’s better than sitting around here crying in my drink over D leaving me again.
It makes me wonder if he met someone when he was out a week ago. Maybe he thinks there’s something there. My heart sinks. Devil me pokes me in the arm, “Think about it. Even if he’s got sights on someone, she might not feel the same. He might be misinterpreting signals and might find out that she’s not interested at all. How often did men misinterpret you?”
She has a point. I look at her sadly, “It still means that he doesn’t want me.”
I’m tired of not being wanted.
Uncharacteristically, she leans over and kisses the top of my head, and gives me a little squeeze. She tells me not to cry. I’m too tired to cry. I hope today is a good day, less emotional, steady but not crazy. I will drop off the boys after I get home. I don’t want to come home to an empty house.
Tomorrow I will be okay.
Monday I will go in early. I’ll do the same on Wednesday (when I get the boys again). We’re all counting down to the end of the school year. I’ll be happy when they’re out for the summer. Maybe we’ll go somewhere on a weekend, a little road trip somewhere. They’ll have summer camp for a week. Everything will be good.
D will leave me alone. Devil me snorts laughter, “Don’t count on it. He’s just waiting. He’ll be back. He’s playing you like he did L. He might be back with her again for all you know.”
She’s right. I don’t know. I don’t know a damned thing.
