The best he has been able to offer- the best- is that he believes in unconditional love and if I loved him unconditionally I would know he is “not a nice person.” And love him anyway. I tried with as much patience as I can muster to explain the difference between “unconditional love” and “enabling” or “co-dependence.”
He had the nerve to ask me for a dollar for bus fare to work. Because I had traded in all the change in jars for survival cash this week. And then to complain that I hadn’t saved his silver quarter. Which he was stupid enough to dump in the giant jar with the rest of the change.
He was down to three text messages yesterday: “I miss you already 😦 “, “sleeping alone last night sucked,” and “I know you’re angry and I know you need space but please think about it.” Which goes to show how little he gets this: I am not “angry,” nor do I “need space.” My world has collapsed and I have cried for four days straight when I am awake and I need him to get the hell out of the house forever and ever so I don’t have to see him for a long, long time and can get my life together. Besides, if he knew me at all, he would know that “needing space” is the tritest phrase ever and it makes my ears bleed.
Papa John’s pizza coupon emails make me cry. Because we both really liked their pizza and used to order it and have “floor picnics” in the living room.
BBB’s (Big Bad Boss’s) assistant called after finding out the news this morning- to ask me if I could take a conference call tomorrow morning with central office from home. Because apparently pure evil is contagious and sure, I’d love to take a schmoosy phone call with a major bigwig at 8:30 am from my bed about something that seems absolutely meaningless right now. Thanks for asking. I think I’m going to reschedule. So that central office doesn’t think I am an absolutely incoherent idiot.
Love the saintly future mother-in-law, really I do. But this morning she actually suggested that the ex move to an apartment one block over. Because I like to keep my suffering nearby and bump into my pain at the grocery store and laundromat.
Even last night’s applesauce at dinner was hard to keep down and picking up the spoon was the most exhausting thing ever. However, I can apparently scarf down fried cheese pretzels and honey mustard. I have also learned it is entirely possible to survive for three days on two popsicles, three glasses of water and a cup of coffee.
I finally managed to throw away all the stupid candy wrappers on the ex’s nightstand. Because if I kept them, maybe he would be able to work up some perfect grand gesture better than the pathetic “unconditional love” argument. I also realized that he either has no idea what a grand gesture looks like or thinks I’m worth one and even if he did, there is no gesture grand enough at this point. Or ever.
I have contemplated being one of those sad, beautiful women who live alone forever and mourn her lost one true love. And then realized he wasn’t tragically killed but is just an idiot, so I’m not sure I could work up the pathos. Also crying makes me the absolute opposite of beautiful, unless you find red puffy swollen faces with dark circles burnt under the eyes beautiful, I guess.
Other things that have set me off into crying jags: the farmer’s market green beans and chicken I bought to make us a nice healthy dinner this week, waking up on “his side” of the bed, when he asked if I had fed the fish, running out of toilet paper, contemplating catching the bus to work, the stupid picture of the two of us in my jewelry box that I forgot about, thinking about the lyrics to sad songs even after I turn them off, being awake period, that his mother had to break the news to his brother and sister who I really like, trying to figure out where to put the engagement ring since he insists he doesn’t want it back and I can’t bear to look at it, the smell of the stupid lotion we used to give eachother back and foot rubs with.