Saturday, May 29, 2004

Hiding Behind the Written Word

While I was calm in my newfound perspective on my relationship with my misfit Peruano, meaning making a conscious decision not to expect anything and maybe even open myself to looking in other people and places , he was writing the classic " It's not you it's me/I'm dumping you but still we can be friends" letter. Well it wasn't exactly a letter. It wasn't even an email. It was a "note" (which is sort of like an email) within the cyber-community where we first met.

I read it as I was getting ready to go to bed early since my herby misfit and I were going to a concert the next night. As I read the "note" and how he loved me but wasn't in love with me and I was a distraction to his evolution(or deevolution- he hasn't decided)and but that he really cared about me. I started shaking, not crying. I was angry that he had chosen this coward's way to dump me.

This sort of thing has happened so many times, with the artsy, creative men I have dated. It was happened so often in fact that I have a soundtrack that I burned for just such an occasion.

I called la fea, my best girl to cry. She pissed me off by talking to the man (boy) she's dating in the middle of my recitation of the "note". I hung up on her.

I sat in my bed, with a red novena candle that I had bought en el nombre del Peruano, dangerously tucked inside my bent knee. I listened to my discman, singing along and crying and writing. I was not drinking. Nor did I take anything.

My first response to the misfit came in the form of a text message: "Does this mean we're not going to see Bersuit?".
He responded via text that it was up to me, since I had the tickets but that "Please" could we. That he really wanted to go but he understood if I didn't because it could be awkward. And " If only I could prove to you how much I care"

That was our first "conversation" after he dumped me.

I texted him back that he could prove it to me by speaking to me instead of sending notes, Im's , and text messages. That this was one time that the writer needed to stop hiding behind the written word and use his voice. He texted me that he was going to call. I asked if he didn't think it would be better for us to meet. After some hesitation and complaining about the cold he texted me
" I'll be there in 22 minutes"

Next installment: Pitches and boundaries

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