The Morning After

It's the next morning. I crawled into bed last night, having left the partially-cooked dinner where it was on the stove, too stunned, numb, and hurt to even consider eating. Thanks to my usually nightly prescription sleep aid, amplified with 150 mg of diphenhydramine, I did sleep. I also dreamed, and yes, D was in my dreams.

I'm still in bed. Oh, sure, I've gotten up to use the restroom. I also went out to the kitchen, disposed of the dinner I'd been making for two, unset the table, and toasted a bagel - which I ate back in bed. I've been going through the immense number of messages of love and support. They've come via blog comments, Facebook messages, Facebook comments, and text messages. I've heard from people I didn't even know had an interest in my love life.

I've had numerous offers from girlfriends (and a couple guy friends) for drinks and venting. Yes, last time I was dumped unexpectedly (by J), I went to a girlfriend's house and consumed an entire bottle of Skinny Girl Margaritas on an empty stomach. I was angry and bitter, not just because I was hurt, but because of his childish way of ending things. I'd lashed out some in my anger, and he cut off contact.

D is not J. He never was, and he never will be.

I feel no anger, no malice, no frustration. I have no desire to "manbash," as one good friend offered to do with me. To do that would require me to hate him or something about him, and I don't. He's a great guy who is still working through some shitty baggage. Unlike the previous ex, D is indeed working on it.

His last words as he left my apartment were something along the lines of he was pretty sure he would regret ending things some day. My last image of him came as I was leaving his house, my kitchen items in tow. He was standing on his front door step, having walked me out because he is a true gentleman, and when I glanced back to look at him his head was down and he was staring blankly into the ground in front of him. He looked dejected and broken.

I don't know how he is feeling this morning. I don't know if he woke up to go to work with a sense of relief because he was free of me, or if he had a hard time getting out of bed because he is questioning his decision.

Or, if he is thinking of me at all.

Normally this blog is my therapy. It is where I work through speculations, the "what ifs," the "what could have beens." It is where I vent my theories, sometime accurate and other times simply inane. It is where I pour out my wounded heart and soul in times like these.

This time, things are different. Yeah, I know, you've heard that before, but it's true. D is the first guy who has not only known about the blog, but who has the URL. I have my thoughts, my ruminations, but at this point I'm not going to post them here. It isn't because I think they would embarrass or hurt D, but it's because I respect and love him.

Some things just don't need to be said publicly.

I emailed him this morning, a long missive that said what I needed to say. I made it clear how I feel about him, even with this turn, and that he would be welcomed back if he so desired. It's up to him. I can't rush him, I can't decide for him. I can't fix him, not that he needs fixing. I can't help him trust what he may be feeling, what he told me he was feeling. The only way I can get him to understand I'm not like the others is through my patience, love, and actions. He needs to work through it for himself.

So to all who have reached out, thank you. To all who are truly concerned, thank you. To those who are hating seeing me sad and hurt, thank you. Every message of love and support has meant a great deal.

Until the next chapter is ready to be written, take care, blog fans.