Running for airplanes and feeling emotional.

Maybe it’s the exhaution of a 6 hour flight delay, the waiting and running and trying to sort it out. Maybe it’s my extreme desire to be home and feel, touch, taste, see that we are alright. That the world is how I think it is. The s/he and I are how I think we are. Maybe it is a toxic swirl of both making my girl brain zing off in a million directions.

I know how to crank my own anxiety up to maxiumum freak out.

We were chatting while I waited in the plane on the tarmac, the sun setting on the day, the snow swirling around the grounds crew outside with their various weird airplane golf cart mobiles. We were talking about his sexy solo adventure from the other night, and the conversation turned to a suggestion i had about him meeting someone we know, only to find out he had already started that ball rolling.

I find myself on the outside of the situation looking in and I am not feeling at all good about it. I go quiet as I let the emotional waves hit me and recede, while he wonders why my responses are short, if there at all, to the subject changes he is trying to make.

My heart is fucking sore as fuck. I think about why, and I see all the issues before me – there is nothing new in this pile of baggage, that I can see anyway.

• I don’t like feeling the loss of intimacy/truth. It may be an accidental ommission but it sends off air raid sirens in my brain.
• I don’t want to live life on the sidelines. If you don’t want to include me, I’m not interested in being treated/hurt like that. Been there, done that, have the commemorative tea towel and seemily never healing wounds.
• I don’t need anyone else in my life making me feel not good enough.

It is the way I want to be treated. It makes me sad to think Misty doesn’t care to not treat me that way. I take some deep breathes and try to calm my shit down. I think about boy side’s long time friend Eve, and how the men/husbands in her open relationship lifestyle cheated and lied to her anyway.

I also think that not all shadows are monsters. Stop. Misty is not like the others. S/he will hurt you – but not with malice – mostly because we are human, and sometimes careless.. If it becomes too much of the above bullshit, I do not have to stay. I never have to be repeatedly run over and mistreated again. That is not a life I want.

I feel better, as I think it all through. The emotional wave has receded. And he’s asking me questions about why this is upsetting me. I state the above points.

“If I had a list, it’s this poking of my baggage that would be on it.” I say sassily,

S/He has a list of all the jackass things I’ve done that hurt him and ways we don’t fit. To remind him never to rationalize a relationship again. Against all better judgement he stayed with his soon-to-be-ex-wife for over 20 years – he never wants to do that again. So he lists these traits of mine to make sure he measures  and balances me correctly. I get it. Like me he wants to ensure he doesn’t relive past relationship mistakes.

”Maybe you should have a list – so you can keep it all straight.”

”I don’t need or want to keep a list of each time you poke my bags.”

He tells me that his list is not really the things I’ve done, it’s to help him get clear on what bothers him. Maybe I had it wrong, but I remember him showing it to me. It felt very personal, but I let it go. It’s not really what this is all about anyway. I’m feeling raw over everything.

We chat for a couple more minutes and then I have to go. The plane is finally ready to head to Toronto.

I listen to my ebook – Playing The Matrix – it’s awesome and uplifting, and yet I can’t shake that nagging unease.

Landing in Toronto is a gong show. I’ve missed any chance of getting home. All Vacouver flights are booked but my Edmonton leg is just about to leave. It had been delayed 6 hours too – it was waiting for pilots. There was no time to waste as my gate was on the other mother fucking side of the terminal. I ran. I thanked the gods for sneakers and moving sidewalks. I asked the person who was checking boarding passes the likelihood of getting on a direct flight to Vancouver if I stayed. So much nope. And once I land in Edmonton (at 1am), I was going to be there for the night. Fuck.  I was one of the last people to board.  

I called him to let him know I was likely not going to be home tonight, but I was on the flight to Edmonton. I felt unwanted. Another wave hit me as I said good-bye, wishing he would say something sweet, or even that he loves me, but I see he’s already hung up.

It’s going to be a long night.