Before I can determine what to do... I guess I should tell you what I did.
After being unceremoniously dumped... and I say this because a) it was THE SECOND TIME and b) I was left crying in my car in an Albertson's parking lot because I was in no condition to drive (somehow mascara was bleeding into my contacts basically making me blind). I did what any girl (that I know) does... Throw myself into work all the while questioning "What the hell happened?" "What did I do wrong?" and the litany of other questions that are in line for the revolving door of the female post break-up mind.
After a few days (New Years Eve, New Years Day.... ), a few cocktails, and a few Barnes & Nobel trips (and Library trips). I took myself on a day trip (not after the cocktails, obviously). I took myself to all the places that we had, in my opinion, some of our best times.
I took myself to The Kimball Art Museum, where we had one of our first "dates" to see the Impressionists exhibit. Where I realized just how much I appreciated his appreciation for the finer things in life (real. known. art.). Also where I started liking him all that much more because he ignored the audio tour of the museum like I did. And because I could see him watching me as I wandered from painting to painting instead of going in order or whatever... the organized creativity of art museums is always a little irritating to me. It was once I was outside the museum where I realized that was where I had butterflies in my stomach waiting for him to meet me.
I took myself to The Flying Saucer. A pub with a ridiculously large selection of beer. Where I remember having some of our more entertaining moments (and photo ops-- I have a small selection of photos for that day) and some of our better conversations. Somehow, here, at this pub, we managed to have some of the most memorable conversations... maybe it's the beer, or the constant din of waitresses, bottles, glasses and plates where you're convinced no one can hear you; that you open up and let some of those little guards down. You laugh a little louder, you speak a little free-er.
*note: I can imagine that you think I am torturing myself, and maybe I am... BUT I do have a point to this*
I took myself to Downtown Fort Worth (granted that is where the Flying Saucer is...) and the Stockyards where we had another one of our first dates. Here I remembered how we walked and talked. And how I gave him a pseudo history lesson on Forth Worth history (which I will never know if he appreciated or cared that have an extensive amount of knowledge on the history of our cowtown). This when I also introduced him to my FAVORITE burger joint, The Love Shack (I also have extensive knowledge of where the best burgers are).
And the last place I went in the tour of good-times-we-had, was the Fort Worth Botanic Gardens
where we spent a dreary winter afternoon alone wandering the gardens and taking pictures. It was pretty much just the two of us. It was winter, nothing was largely in bloom and the weather was overcast and chilly (why we chose to go, I am still not quite sure). But we went, and I enjoyed it. I still have the huge acorn like thing that I found in the parking lot in my car as a reminder of that day.
In wandering the garden on MY cold winter day, camera in hand; I understand what Thoreau was saying about nature. Granted I prefer the Disney version where little birds and squirrels help me get ready for the day. BACK TO THE POINT...
In my empty nature escape, I gave a lot of thought to my hand in the relationship. I kept thinking "DID I DO EVERYTHING I COULD TO MAKE THIS WORK" (no, I wasn't yelling at myself, but I need this question to stand out).
And I could answer yes. Yes, I did do everything I could. I consulted friends for solutions, Cosmo, and more relationship books from TWO public libraries then I would want my library history to show.
So after this day of meditation and revisiting... I saw him (for the first time since the break up). It was to talk and exchange our POW's (you know, the items you leave around during the relationship that are suddenly hostages that you need to liberate after a break up).
He didn't want to meet, he said he had a bad day at work. I, was very pushy and pretty much demanded to be met (not the way back into a mans heart/arms, I admit). So we did. We exchanged things. And we talked. I got answers to the question "Why can't this work?"... And truthfully, I am not satisfied with the answers, still. But I realize my window for answers has closed. So I can Nancy Drew it on my own from here on out.
During our talk, I told him of my walk down memory lane and the things I thought about it. And, because I am CLEARLY a glutton for punishment, I told him that missed him and how I still felt about him. And he said he had to "think about all the things I said."
I wanted to bolt. In the silence after that statement, every fiber of my being was saying RUN. But I couldn't.
So instead, I got up, threw away my wad of tissues that were basically black from mascara and grabbed my purse and jacket and said, "I'll leave you alone so you can think" And walked out, and quietly shut the door behind me.
AND RAN DOWN THE STAIRS AND GRABBED MY SHOES AND RAN OUT THE FRONT DOOR.
I think I barely shut the door (which now I feel bad about) and I RAN down the street, barefoot, to my car. I could have stopped, I could have stopped when I was out of the house. But I didn't. I only stopped when I was in my car because my heart was beating like a cornered hummingbird and I couldn't breathe.
It was at this point, I realize that he did come after me. That he didn't say anything. That he didn't try to stop me from FLEEING. And that... that really turned the water works on for me. I couldn't believe that the man whose Rom-Com movie library is so extensive couldn't make a move for me.
So there I was, crying in my car down the street from his house realizing he wasn't coming after me... and I had a 30min drive home.
So that... Dear reader(s) is what I did. I bared my soul and innermost thought to the man I love(d? because now I am re-evaluating) only to be not moved for. I imagine he was sitting in his ergonomic office chair in front of his computer, facing his piano (or maybe he turned to the monitor) listening for my car to start and me to be gone. I imagine he didn't shed a tear.
I imagine, he didn't really care.
So now, I have admitted what I did. Maybe now I can figure out what to do.
What do I do now?
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