As I was explaining to Edward just the other day (when I put Breaking Dawn on the shelf next to the others even though it was unread it'll be a treat when Chicago leaves), there are times in a self-aware person's life, or as I really wanted to say, a writer's life, when you just know without a doubt that your own life is scripted as if you were writing for a main character. Then there are other days when it is much more like comedy improv theater. The movie Stranger Than Fiction is really so fantastic.
This morning, perfect example of a scripted life. Someone, somewhere, is having fun with me as the main role in a little play of emotional torture. Or at least that's how I see it to keep myself sane. Which in itself, is probably textbook definition of a personality disorder. I've got to write this down as the details are already slipping away due to emotional overload.
Here I am, looking utterly absolutely disheveled, though I managed to get dressed for my at-home conference call (yay for remote working on days you really need it). Still grooving on the good vibes of the massage last night, and soooooo excited to drive to the airport to pick up Chicago!
The dogs are chilled out on the cool floor and I've got the call on mute while I multitask myself into a mug of tea and some blueberries. There's a car door noise and I glance out the window.
And there is the last fucking love of my life strolling up my little driveway. The guy I haven't seen in oh-I-don't-know FOREVER, and the guy I never expected to see again yet always look for his car as I'm driving around town.
TODAY!? 12 or so hours before I go to pick up Chicago. What the hell? No, he doesn't read blogs, he's barely computer literate. Do they have RADAR and know when you are just ABOUT to get over them? They must. Like bats. Like bat guano. Oh how I wish I had some so I could throw it at him in a fitting retort to one of his favorite movies.
Chadster was already alerted to his footsteps and at the front window whining for him. Nice. Nice loyalty, you ferocious Belgian shepherd you. You're supposed to want to bite this guy, or at the very least, not let him in.
L has the nerve to try to open the door without knocking. Yes, sir, do come right in to the quaint cottage you and I were supposed to live in together while your house was built on 10 acres. So glad the door was locked.
Just like my heart, I told myself. Just like my heart.
Knock. He knows I'm there. The windows are open, the car is there, the running water from the washing machine, the beeping of the long forgotten tea in the micro, and I'm quite sure the loud betrayal beating of my heart.
Only a coward wouldn't answer.
Only a loser would talk through a closed door.
Why was my hand shaking as I reached for the knob? Was I afraid of what he was going to say? Or want?
Not now L. Not fucking now.
Oh, did I mention I was on a conference call? Yeah. At least 7 people talking in my ear. Talk about confusion.
What is this, The Way We Were? I step back as he's between the screen door and the front door with a foot on the landing already.
Words fail me. Me. The wordy one. Fail.
I point to headset. He understands because I think he's had his surgically implanted years ago. He nods.
I turn to get the wildly excited 4 year old 95 lb suddenly turned 8 week old squealing puppy out of the way for fear that I will trip on him. I herd him out to the garage.
Meanwhile L has come into the house.
I am not sure where to even stand, what to even say. I keep telling myself to play it cool. I can't bring myself to look him in the face. After all, our last exchanges involved my mother being hospitalized and me telling him to leave me alone if all he wanted was sex after 4 years of a relationship. Did the freaking massage therapist put a curse out on me or what?
I'm standing with my arms crossed, not because I'm pissed (although I did feel anger building), but because rather like Bella I'm cold and I'm convinced that my insides are going to spill out. Yes, L had the effect on me that Edward had on Bella. He was the one. Except he wasn't. Because if he was the one, he would have felt the same way about me. And he didn't.
I look up into his eyes, passing by the cute little goatee he's rocking, something I'd never seen in 4 years. I am frowning, I feel it.
"I was just in the neighborhood...thought I'd say hello."
You've got to be fucking kidding.
"Really..." I squeek out.
"How are you gorgeous, you look great."
He holds his arms open for a hug.
People are talking in my ear as I go in for the hug. Yup I'm a sucker, how could I not hug him? I was just not thinking clearly.
Surprise is the predator's main advantage, says the commentator of the Discovery channel documentary that's running in a sidebar to this event unfolding.
I feel tears already welling. I'm upset at that. What the hell. Be MAD, be angry. Don't flipping cry. I didn't. But I was close.
I find my voice finally. Standing back a few feet, "So, how are you? How's that new place you've got across from the reservoir?"
He is utterly surprised that I know about that. Several towns away. Google rocks. Did he think I stalked him? Hmm, Glenn Close I am not.
Fueled by the surprise, I continue, asking about his son, his dog, his business.
Then I shake my head and frown again, "So what exactly brought me to mind that caused you to stop by here?"
I was pretty sure he was going to say he got a text message on the man code frequency that told him I needed to have sex.
"Oh Andy and I are about to go salmon fishing and I remembered last year when I called you from there and I put you on with Andy..."
OK, so he thought I needed to have sex...with two guys?
"So you live in that big house all by yourself?" I asked, already feeling that couldn't be possible.
"No...I live there with my wife."
"Oh. When did you get married?"
Again. You weren't going to get married again. You'd said, at your age. With your track record. Right.
"A while ago."
A while ago. Like when I was still with you a while ago or a while ago 6 months ago?
I'm staring at him now because it is my turn to be shocked.
Then he comes to give me another hug, knocking off my headset but I don't stop to get it. And he's hugging me tightly, like there's something more, like there's something he's not saying.
So, always the excavator of emotions and information, I say, while he's still hugging me, "Do you love her?"
"Yes. But I miss your warm caring heart."
Ouch. Pain. Slimeball.
I wanted to tell him that my warm caring heart hopes to hell he suffers somehow, but nothing particularly biting came to mind. I wanted to knee him in the balls, but I couldn't do that either.
Just as I was trying to pull away his hands started to wander up the back inside of my shirt. WTF? If ever there was a moment to pull out some self defense moves, this was it.
"What are you doing?"
He doesn't miss my warm caring heart, he misses my warm fat ass.
"I didn't hear the word no or stop."
Jesus Christ, give me strength. Predator indeed.
"Well, here's a no. You can't do this. You've got some balls."
He steps away.
"You know, we're adults here."
"I'm not...it took a 12-step program to stop calling you."
Or he's a sex addict.
Ding ding ding. Tell 'em what he's won Bob!
And then Lo, my little rescue girl, realizes something is going on. She can't see or hear too well and she hasn't a clue who L is and she comes growling around the corner toward the new bulky shape in her vision.
In the Discovery channel documentary, she rips off his balls.
I wish he had smelled horrible to her. I wish she would have snapped at him. But he has a way with dogs and women, and got right down to her level and she was putty in his hands in about 2 seconds flat.
"Are you and your wife raising puppies together?"
No. That was going to be our thing. But we'll never have anything now. Ever.
He stands up, looks me over. "You look great."
Translation: How about a booty call? Am I wrong here? It must be awfully cold in that bedroom at his house or he is indeed a sex addict.
"You said that already."
"Well then I've said all there is to say..."
"I'm sure your boyfriend is a happy guy..."
Yes. Because of....all the sex...that...you're not getting?
I didn't respond. I just let my last love walk out the door, down the drive, and out of my life.
My insides still feel like they're going to fall out.
And you all thought it was Chicago I had to worry about? Ha.
Chicago deserves better than some half-out-of-her-mind sap; I've got to get it together!
Losing Weight; Finding Men
"Never make someone a priority in your life when you are just their option."