He shoots me a text when he’s sitting at the traffic light.  He can’t wait to see me.  I stare at the screen, then glance up at the clock.  It’s 1:45pm.  I look at Angel me and dryly say, “Gee, L must have cleared out early.”  She glares at me then stomps out of the room, “He’ll have time to shower before you stop by.”

I’m tired from spending a day cleaning and doing laundry.  H has been particularly nasty, telephoning to check on me, suddenly afraid that I might be out with someone.

We divorced almost 2 years ago.

I’m worn out.  D texts again, urging me to come over, “I miss you.”  I frown at the phone, look up at Angel me, “It’s someone to have dinner with…”  She looks pissed.  I shower and dress.  I apply expensive perfume.  I never wear his favorite if I know that I’ll see him.  That was L’s favorite.  He doesn’t know that I still wear it on occasion, and that’s fine.  I made it clear when I walked away before – it was his favorite, not mine.

My favorite is Chanel Mademoiselle.  I bought it for myself for Christmas, when it began to look like I had better get something for myself because no one else was going to….

D ended up getting me an iPod.  We had broken up, and I told him that I expected nothing.  He mailed it to me because I had said that I didn’t want to see him.  In fact, I encouraged him to give the iPod to someone else.  In my mind’s eye I could see L being delighted with it.  I just wanted to fade away and be gone from his memory.

He kept in touch.  I was polite but not warm, uncomfortable with such an expensive gift.  I’m still not comfortable with it. 

For three months he tried to warm me up, I retreated to the shadows, staying out of arm’s reach, annoyed that he couldn’t leave me alone.  I wasn’t “the one”.  He was happier with his friends.  He loved L.  I patiently spelled it all out, painfully, and sadly retreated.  I told him that I knew he didn’t love me, and that I needed to find someone who would.  I didn’t want to be alone anymore, and I always felt alone with him, because everything and everyone else came first.

Something unusual happened.  D coaxed me back. 

….Now it’s all strange and bizarre….

I text D.  He replies, buoyant and happy.  He’s thrilled to have me back in his life.  He acts as if I never really left.  Bustling about, he tries to make up for the months I’ve been absent.  He doesn’t see that I’m more reserved than ever.  I don’t talk much, allowing him to fill the room with anecdotes and stories, and responding with a nod.  I feel like a stranger.  I tell myself that I can’t love this time, that it’s only a physical thing now.

I’m lonely.  D is better than nothing.

It shows in my face, because I can’t hide pain well.  When he asks me about it I wave it away, “Just preoccupied with stuff at work…or at home.”  I leave the room often because I’m truly at a loss.  There is no peace when I’m with D.  He feels like a burden now, and I’m not comfortable visiting him.  I sit in the driveway for long minutes debating with myself, “Should I go in, or leave?” 

He has no idea that I feel this way.  As I back off, he rallies, taking a few weeks off work – devoted to spending time with me.  He wants to take a trip.  I have no call or work on the weekends.  I toss out weak excuses.  He tells me that this weekend he can’t see me.  Ahhhhh.  That old familiar refrain…is it the fair weathers, or a weekend trip with L?  I shake my head, send out feelers.  He hasn’t been obvious so I vote for weekend with L.  I feel pretty shitty about the whole thing, but he offers to take me out for sushi on Sunday night.  I lie to him, “I won’t know until Sunday if I can come over.  I tentatively push for an earlier time, but he’s firm.

Because his plans are always more important than time with me.

I need to get the electronics straightened out.  I’ll stick around long enough for that to happen.  Once that’s done, I believe I’ll slip away for good.

Because I don’t love him, and I know he doesn’t love me.

I track our times together.  I plan on doing that for the next month or two.  It’s ammunition, of course.  Damning.  

I can’t figure out why I need tangible proof that he sees me infrequently.