may the force be with you (and me, please!)

10 Oct

Where were you guys when I REALLY needed you?

It is oddly quiet.  Now, that may be because I am sitting in the library.  But, it is something else, it is deeper, and it is inside me.  And it is ok, I think.  Yesterday was quite a day.  I got myself up (relatively) early and made my way uptown to my mom’s house to pack up the few things the X had left there, and placed them in the lobby of the building.  He was coming to pick them up later in the day, and I did not want to see him or have him come up to my mom’s apartment to get the stuff.

I then made my way to the library to get some work done.  After a few hours, contender (no-longer-contender)#1 texted me.  We had plans to go to Comic Con and I was getting all geared up to tell him that I was only interested in being pals.  Regradless, I was kind of excited to go to this comic thing…I have never been and it seemed like fun.

No – it was depressing in the state that I was in.  I was not at all in the mood to see teens and middle-aged folks alike decked out like Princess Leia (hmmm……am I psychic?) or the latest anime character to steal the title of “fresh new cyborg robot on the block” – not that I think that title exists, but you get the gist of it, I hope.

The place was packed.  It was in the massive, gray, dimly lit and poorly air-circulated Jacob Javitz Center.  I was hungry, and sad, and weighed over by textbooks in my backpack and just a general heavyness in my being.  Poor contender-non-contender.  He tried to carry my books and make me smile.  But honestly.  I am a 38 year old woman, that just cut the final ties on a traumatic relationship getting out of hours in the library trying to figure out statistical analyses for an epidemiological paper assignment due in my Doctoral program. And here I was eating chicken fingers and fries on the sticky floor of a convention center with  costumed elfins around me?  I was not feeling ANY of it.  Or the non-contender, as nice and sweet and decent as he is.  All 34 years of him.

So after waiting for what felt like 25 minutes to get into the bathroom, I got out, spent another 10 minutes tracking homeboy down and blurted, “I am sorry.  I have to go.”

I spent the evening in bed, watching Gossip Girl.  I do not feel particularly low or sad or bereft or anxious.  Just quiet.

Oh, and I sent the non-contender an apology email, saying I wanted to be friends, if he was up for it.

Comic Con however, never again.

Sorry contender numero uno. You are NOT my only hope.
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