Jul. 30, 2004

Just One

It's done.

I'm single.

I did it yesterday afternoon. After I went to the dentist. After I found out my credit card number had been stolen. After I found out my parents are both unemployed. After he said he was rushing home to take care of me when he heard that sound in my voice.

I didn't want him to want to take care of me. I wanted him to feel like I did. That this was the time, and the right time. I don't think he does.

But I do believe that he will.

I told him the afternoon that the Nielson Ratings confirmed that the premiere of his TV show (Amish in the City, 8pm wednesdays UPN) which is brilliant, was also a smash hit.

He told me he couldn't believe I was breaking up with him on the best day of his life.

The Cat is with him. At our house. Where I am not.

When I knew he was coming home I packed a bag with a few days of stuff and put it in my car. I tried to make as sure as possible that I would really do it when he came home. That I would not take comfort in his wonderful hugs. That I would not make it worse by waiting.

I told him that it was time. That I had suddenly and unchangeably fallen out of love, that it was empty. That he had done nothing wrong. That I was not angry. That he was wonderful and that I loved him and that I was sorry and that I knew knew knew it was bad timing, but when was it really going to be better.

He told me he was dissapointed. He told me it felt like suspicious timing. He told me I was being melodramatic when I began to leave.

I couldn't imagine how I would stay.

I know I hurt him. It makes me sad.

I know I've done the right thing. I'm waiting for that to make me happy.

Right now, I'm waiting for this to really feel real. It's not yet. Soon, maybe.

I'm not sad. But strange things make me cry. Today at the gym, where I inexplicably spent 4 hours but made amazing breakthroughs in my yoga practice, three songs came on my iPod. One from each of the last 3 major relationships (all of which lasted over two years). That made me cry. On the treadmill. It wasn't even embarassing.

I'm not hungry.

Gabe keeps asking me to meet him for lunch or dinner. But I can't want food. I don't even want to want food. I'm totally fine having taken a lot of vitamins today and that's pretty much it. Yesterday it was oatmeal. Tomorrow there are two barbecues that I'm invited to. We'll see what happens.

I feel so mellow. And so in need of distraction.

I can't even remember what it is that I used to do when I would go home at the end of the day. Whatever it was, I don't want to do it anymore. I can tell because I'm divising all sorts of things to do that don't feel familiar.

But I'm suspiciously okay.

On September 11th, when I was living in Brooklyn and had stopped working on the 102nd floor of WTC tower 1 less than a month before, I made a deal with myself that I was allowed to cry whenever I felt it. That it was okay. And I did. And I healed. Faster than many. I'm trying to make the same deal with myself now. I hope it works.

And I hope that "Girl's Nite," one of which I have never attended, will involve more than drinking wine because I'm going to one tonight.

At the house of someone I barely know.

And I'm glad.

Because now is a time when I realize that there are not enough women in my life. And it's about time to change that.