So I mentioned on my about, ‘who is Becca?’, page, I love someone.
I do. Madly. Deeply. Without any sense of self preservation. I love him in that Neruda way of not knowing how… accepting of his complete and utter dysfunctional/compartmentalizing ways. It’s overwhelming sometimes.
I TRIED to push him away. I told him to not contact me… then I broke down like a $2 whore.
In my defense I survived a month – though they were the lowest lows I can honestly say I have ever felt. And in his defense, he didn’t – he was strong. He stayed away from me. Which is both good and bad. Depending on how you want to look at it.
So where are we now, you may be asking, well, that is a good question. He is THE quintessential tom cat. He is the man that is looking for something… (I have visions of a super model with a little somethin’), but nothing has filled that… hole (and we all have one, of various shapes and sizes). I have not filled that hole for him, and he has yet to tell me what I actually DO for him – he did say though I was grounding… which is both lovely and awful. (I have a crooked smile on my face as I type that)
It feels the tide. In fact, today, when I was missing him, I imagined him hot and heavy emailing/texting/IMing with someone else. And I had this moment of “So?” and then “What does that mean?” Does it mean he never emails me again? Does it mean our contact is over? I may try to get in touch with him, only to find dead air? OR maybe he lives/plays out this sexual fantasy with whoever. Maybe it’s incredibly intense. And then it’s done. Or maybe it isn’t. And he calls me. And maybe he doesn’t. It is the strangest place I have ever been. Call me Alice. Maybe I will find that there is an ebb and flow to all of this… and I will be able to just float through quiet, forget Becca, times. Miss him, but be okay? Know he’s with others, and accept it? He is searching for someone to fill that hole… maybe one day he’ll find her. Or see me. Or some variation on the theme I haven’t thought of yet.
Life, and love, are funny.
Sometimes ha-ha, sometimes the ol’ football to the groin.