I noticed he became pretty quiet afterwards and that he stopped calling me "babe" & "love". It wasn't a small thing. These are gestures we make because they reflect how we feel. So I called him out on it. He admitted he had found it difficult to call me these things after the 4am call. I took a deep breath and tried not to take that to mean he could never call me those things again or that he didn't love me anymore.
Then I asked him if we could take a vacation, at least until he is back from Bali, from working on our problems. It's nearly impossible to do remotely without fucking it up and it means too much to me to do it the wrong way. This means I will really need to be my own best friend about this shit for a while, and it's good. I need to be better at comforting myself. I also asked if we could just chalk up that conversation to me not having slept and him being busy & away. I'm not sure he will forget but I'm not going to lend any weight to the 4am chat. It's true, I miss him, I love him dearly, and for fuck's sake I do want him back and not to be the same we were before. I want and deserve something even more envious, even more wonderful, and even more worth the effort. But we can never be better as long as I'm the way I am, no matter how much he steps up to the plate.
The level of narcissism and thoughtlessness I display is just unreal sometimes. It occurred to me last night I didn't even know how important this trip to Bali was to Mr. P. I had no idea what he was doing there. I have been so consumed with him and I that I forgot about him and I forgot about me. I need a step back. Hence the vacation. I need to pull my head out of my head for a while and focus on other things. Richard Bruckmeyer said “Love is omni-inclusive, progressively exquisite, understanding and compassionately attuned to other than self.”
Normally I would run out and try to date as many guys as I could now that I am officially single. Men are great distractions, and I did this with more or less reckless abandon in the past, no doubt hurting plenty of people along the way. Eventually, you find someone who suitably distracts you from the last guy for long enough so that you forget the pain. When you're lucky, you fall in love a bit again, and life feels good for a while.
For the first time in my life, I am not ready to do this. I know Mr. P and I are not together (though...it really doesn't feel that way for me. Not really. Not yet), are not ready to be together and there is a very good chance we will never be together again...I have no interest in dating anyone else. Not even casually. Not even for sex. Not even just as a distraction. I'm just not ready.
This is not a coincidence. I feel responsible for having hurt someone and I don't want to hurt anyone, including Mr. P again. My head isn't in the right place to spend time with anyone, so I'm not. It's not a conscious decision which makes it even better, because I'm making it without having to be so fucking cerebral about it.
The truth is, there are a hundred men out there in D.C. right now who are better for me than Mr. P. They won't hog the bathroom in the mornings the way he does, they won't be commitment phobic, they won't think I drink too much or am obnoxious when I do. They won't be cold and detached and selfish and all the things Mr. P can be sometimes. The truth is, none of it matters, because for all of his perfect flaws, I love him for who he is. He is the only one I will want.
I love in a perfect way. I may not behave in a perfect way and I may not love myself in a perfect way. But the way I love someone else is unmatched, it is without comparison. No one loves the way I do: triumphantly, proudly, with strength and fortitude. A love like that can't just be pointed at anybody. A love like that has to be held in check, sharpened, taken apart and cleaned every once in a while. My love needs repairs every now and again and that's what I'm doing now.
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