TDH

"...I'm twisted cuz one side of me is telling me that I need to move on but the other side wants to break down and cry..."

Oh Usher. You saved me momentarily last night when you poured out those lyrics for Let it Burn. (And thank you for not singing Moving Mountains, I don't need to cry like that.) You made me feel better right after that stranger told me (not asked) that I had the face of someone with a broken heart. God, am I that transparent? Well, who's kidding who? I do have a broken heart. There! I admitted it. He is gone. And by him, I mean Tyler. And unfortunately, with Tyler's move came my broken heart. (Is it fitting I finally write his name in this blog today, the technical "anniversary" of ours?)

I was sick today. There's another thing I will admit. It's not because of the bottle of white wine from last night. It's not because of the latest shooting and murder of yet another teenager in my neighborhood (this time at 2pm in the afternoon yesterday.) I have the chills, I have knots in my stomach and I can barely eat. Fuck. The break-up diet without a breakup.

I have that feeling of loss, like what comes with a break-up. My very good "boy friend" moved across Canada to Whistler. Not the furthest location, I realize, but far enough where it's doubtful I will see him for months. (And no, no plan was ever arranged for me to visit...hmm...and I said very good "boy friend"?) He decided a change of scenery in his life was needed and he simply moved. Okay, there is a part of me that is envious of that. And hurt. His life is his alone, but in the selfish way of thinking that comes with something that feels like a break-up, I'm thinking of how his move effects me. I know...I know.....

My cousin, all the way in Germany, has granted me a lot of clarity with kind and wise words of her own via e-mail. (Funny how good writing runs in my family.) Some things I already know. It hurts to lose a very good friend in the midst of having gotten so much closer to the point a real partnership had formed. My sister commended me for investing in something with someone else and trusting someone again. By someone she means a man, and yes, yes I did.

Well, we all know feeling like this makes for a better writer. I'm writing. One of the only things I want to do right now. The memories are flooding me to the point of tears. Why does my memory decide to kick into overdrive now?

Maybe I will get back to writing my book and add a happier ending.

Prelude to a Good-bye

For the first time for us, there will quite possibly (most possibly) be a good-bye we are not used to saying or experiencing. It seems that we will have a good-bye where we both are happy (with each other, for each other) and one of us (okay, him) isn't saying adios without really saying it or giving no reason to why he's leaving, going away or just wanting space. This time we both know a good-bye is imminent. He is, probably will be, moving. He says for four months or so, but something tells me it may be longer. He is of the age where anything really goes. No attachments, nor dependents, and no huge job he will miss that much. I joked that I needed to save money for him to fly down when I need him back here. I don't have that amount of money. I was forewarned, at least, of this move, and wasn't told of it a week prior to him leaving. I'm a bit better with the impending time apart than I thought I would be. I will miss him. Yep, I said it. I already know I will, and in some ways, already do.

I will miss the closeness, the very (very) great sex, the many nights, (and orgasms) shared, the breakfasts/lunches/dinners...the time together in general. And I will really miss the laughter that comes only after you know someone well enough to laugh with them and even at them. It is remarkable when you get to know someone and they get to know you. When you find yourself doing things for them because you want to and they do the same. It doesn't make things dull. It makes things fun.

I was in his apartment when he booked the flight, the trip, the many details. I was silent, laid on his bed and gave him the time to do all the finalization. We listened to music and talked. He casually asked where I thought I would be if he hadn't been around or in my life. I hit a wall. It is rare that I get silent. It's rare when I get so quiet that I can't even talk or answer any questions. He immediately backed up, insisting that he hadn't meant I had wasted my time with him, or because of him. But here I was, onlooking at a very good boy friend making a move while seemingly implying (with other questions that had followed) that I may have made a wrong choice? There was one or two other questions I can hardly remember. But his intent was pure and not malicious or even weird. I knew this. But the comments hit a nerve. I remember having to look away. Biting back tears and a conversation, or stream of answers, that were shooting back at him only in my head. Sadly, I couldn't get my feelings out. And getting this silent meant one thing. I had to leave. So I tried to leave....tried to keep my back to him so I could just go. Unless you're my best girl friend, or my doctor, you don't see me cry. I won't let you. But on this night it happened. He thought I was angry. I wasn't. He wanted me to explain. I didn't know how. How do you explain to someone you are close with, intimate with, that you ask yourself similar questions about your own life all the time? How do you explain to anyone, that sometimes you are fine, almost completely fine with your life and the people in it, even though a nagging haunting voice constantly tells you you don't have it all, or even have and do enough? So was I also not enough because I was with him?

So he got up, approached, and did something people just don't do often enough. He hugged me. I actually let him. I didn't back away or end the hug too soon. I just let him do it. I guess it's what I needed when I was too much in my head and too silent for the words to come out. And then I was me again and could talk, and even laugh. So I stayed. We didn't have to say good-bye that night.