Wednesday, June 24, 2009

On Wednesdays We Wear Black

Let us get the self-aware portion of tonight's post out of the way. I must say, I am really beginning to look forward to my evening blog. Cathartic indeed.

Today just so happens to be Wednesday which was significant for several reasons. First and foremost it means the triumphant return of the Peacemaker to work. She is the calm happy center of our work area, and thing fall apart when she is not there. She has been out on sick leave status post a tonsillectomy. She did an amazing job of describing her last week as it feeling like someone scooped out her entire throat with a melon-baller and then used a flamethrower to catch the rest. Her description of the worst physical pain she has ever experienced showed so vividly in her face that I was hushed out of complaining about much of anything. When someone tells you that the pain made labor feel like a walk in the park, how can you complain about your stubbed toe?

Next, Wednesday is mutual night, and as a Young Women's leader I get to enjoy all the spoils of the church funded program without any of the embarrassment of waiting on the curb for my mom to pick me up. Tonight we had our quarterly book club night. Everyone was to bring our favorite books, give a short synopsis and trade, to broaden our horizons. As instructed I brought my favorite book which is Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand. I was sitting near the end of the row, and about two or three girls into our presentation, I realize I might have missed the point. By the time I stood up, Atlas Shrugged was juxtaposed next to the likes of Confessions of a Shopaholic and The Princess Diaries. I excitedly told everyone about how her Russian last name had to be changed before the book went to print, and it was her Rand typewriter that inspired her new moniker to a room of glossed over eyes. Extemporaneously I decided to skip the part about how my college graduation announcements were mailed with Ayn Rand stamps. Wow, I really am a nerd.

As much fun as mutual was tonight, I was scheduled not to be there. Tonight, this Wednesday night, was/is the night of the Talib Kweli concert. Who is Talib Kweli, you might as ask. No one knows, except The Boy. He is probably there right now, waiting for the rapper to take the stage. These are the tickets that I got him for his birthday, the ones that were part of the perfect, tiny gift set. I have the mini Moleskins in my purse to return, and heaven knows what I am going to do with the Shuffle I got for him. I knew before tonight that it was over and done, but to look up at the clock at the gym and realize that he was at the concert, with someone else, with the tickets that were the perfectly thoughtful gift, was just one more pain to a broken heart.

It is a little known fact that I have never broken up with anyone. I am always the one who gets broken up with. It has happened to me in various ways and I am familiar with all the tactics. There is the we make better friends than lovers. There is the I cheated on you and am not really that sorry about it. There is the I really like you but am just not really in a place to be in a relationship; used most by Divorced Dad. And then there is the all to familiar, I just plain fell of the face of the planet. This last one is so frustrating to me. What happened to you? No, better yet, what happened to us? I have to suffer all the hurt and self-loathing of a break-up with out at least the dignity of a break-up. What makes it even worst?!? I told him of my fear of this happening between us and he told me that he would never do that because, "I am a person". If he were still talking to me, I would have thrown that in his face.

I have this overwhelming desire to know why. Why do you not want to be with me? At least when I know the answer, I can have closure and can stop thinking about it. If he tells me it is because of my standards, great, I can be satisfied that was never going to change and if it was a deal breaker for him then let's part as friends. If it is because of a fault of mine, then I can work on it and be better for the next man in my life. If it is because there is another girl ... well, you can lie to me and tell me its the sex thing. Whatever the reason, that much needed closure from his end has been denied to me. I must break-up on my own, reason it out on my own, and shut down my feelings on my own. Then again, after being in a relationship by myself, what more did I expect?

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