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Love Stinks.

2008-07-06

I wish I was dead.

Wait that's a tad melodramatic.

I feel like I've just had my right arm removed. (Hey this is my blog, and I can wallow if I want to)!

Better.

This week has been tough for me, mainly for the reasons I listed in my previous post. I feel depressed, I've struggled to find sleep, and things have basically gone straight to hell.

I've never felt better.

Well not really. You know it's funny. Not that I'm in love with feeling blue, but you do get a strangely dark symbiotic pleasure out of being depressed. You begin feeding off of it, getting a perverse interest in seeing how long it'll last and how depressed you can actually get, which of course the longer it does go on, the deeper the depression lasts.

In case I wasn't clear above, these last eight days have been hard.

Breaking up with someone is tough at the best of times. Breaking up with someone you still care and have feelings towards is the worst kind of horrible. See the situation here is you almost inevitably get into is one in which you try and convince them to give you another chance, and that breaking up with you was a huge mistake. This never works. You see if someone has actually gotten to the stage where they're willing to dump you, chances are they've got a good reason. And if they are of a mindset where they're conflicted about a romantic relationship with you, trying to win them back will seem like coming on too strong, and it'll only make their mind more made up. Seeing as I've actually decided to follow my own advice (hey there's a first time for everything!) I've decided not to try and win Emma back and slowly but surely come to the conclusion that it's over. This isn't to say it's easy. It's not, and it hurts.

Unfortunately when I fall for someone, I fall hard, and to paraphrase (sorry butcher) the old axiom; the harder you fall in love, the bigger the pain when it fails.

Making matters worse is that unlike all my other breakups, Emm's still living with me. I mean she has to, there's no way she can afford her own place, and even I'm not that mean as to kick her out on the streets. I wish I'd thought to consider this at the time. We pretty much stay out of each other's way at the moment as much as is possible. I get such a weird mixture of emotions whenever I see her; mostly bitterness mixed with bittersweet memories of the good times. Seeing her is a constant reminder of how bad things ended. I'm going to have to see if I can find a female friend who'll take her in eventually though. I don't think I'll ever be ready to see her date some other guy. It'll be like finding a home for a stray dog.

I've also spent an inordinate amount of time trying to rationalize if it is just me, that I'm the reason this relationship went wrong.

I know I shouldn't do this; it's self-defeating, and potentially soul-destroying. Still it's like that loose tooth you can't stop wiggling with your tongue until it falls out. However the point isn't whether I should spend time over analyzing things to death, the point is I did. I've been in six relationships over my life of varying degrees of seriousness (five if you discount high school). Meredith, Julie, Emily, Sarah, Kate and finally Emma.

I searched through all my recollections of each of them in hopes of finding a single unified explanation as to why they all failed each time. Nope, didn't work. The relationships each failed for six seemingly unrelated reasons. The only common denominator being me. Therefore using this (albeit probably flawed) study the only conclusion available is that probably is me.

This is understandably disconcerting.

Naturally given my present state of mind, things have been strained between me and my friends, and especially my co-workers. I've been testy, belligerent, cantankerous, and confrontational and any other synonym you can imagine. Oh and you better not tell me to have a nice day. If I'm miserable, you're going to be miserable right along with me. To paraphrase one of the great philosophical minds of our time; ‘it's a little childish and juvenile, but so is love.'

I've tried to combat this with a steady diet of booze and smoking, but this has made me feel worse. The best therapy I've discovered thus far was a trip to Shea for the Mets-Yankees series Sunday (which I'd planned for ages anyway) during which I spent the afternoon berating David Wright from down the third base line with a group of friends. I attended my buddy Jeff's 4th of July party, which he holds on the roof of his building he's lived in for years. This usually cheers me out of whatever funk I'm in, but not today. In fact I was ‘pretty miserable company', and that was being kind I imagine.

Chauncey tried to cheer me up by inviting me to a friends 4th of July Weekend party on the island. All I did was sit around outside and complain to Chaunce while I drank scotch and smoked a pack of cigarettes.

All things considered I've gotta give my friends credit for how tolerant they've been about all this. They're good people. If it wasn't up to them, I'd have spent every evening sitting alone in my underwear.

The same can't unfortunately be said about my co-workers.

There have been two incidents that were particularly memorable.

One involved a co-worker, who I don't know very well at all, who said something negative about my smoking and the smell of it on me, after a break outside. I responded by unleashing a venomous tirade upon her. Then the following day my ex Katie stopped by my desk. She was probably the last person I wanted to see at the moment, for a variety of reasons. The next bit is open to interpretation.  What is certain is she said something along the lines of; ‘I heard you broke up with your girlfriend.'

It's unclear whether she said this in a particularly smug way, and it's entirely possible (maybe probable) that she didn't also flash a superior smirk as she said it. What is entirely free of speculation is that we ended up arguing loudly, with me accusing her of secretly enjoying this happening, while all our co-workers looked on with a mixture of revulsion and fascination.

By Thursday my general crabbiness had reached such a level that apparently my editor felt obliged to bring me into my office to make the following ultimatum; cut it out or you'll be fired. Actually she didn't actually put it that way, she skirted around saying that exactly, but that was definitely the vibe going on.

As I said things suck right now, but it will get better, right? RIGHT?

 

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Witqueen (2008-07-06)
Preaching to the choir, I haven't been able to sleep in the last 24 hours...no..not over you and Em, that would just be a tad scary, just got blindsided myself via email yesterday. I think you need to resolve the living situation immediately. Bad enough things ended, it won't take long before hate sneaks in, and more hurt will be inflicted and you're reduced to leaving notes for each other. Things always get better in time, give it 6 months to a year. But ask yourself right now just how important are those other women you've been in touch with online and about. Does it still seem worth it? I use hindsight in situations where there still is the potential of working things out. Maybe Emma does want you to fight for her, what did she say she wanted? Or at the end of the day do you secretly feel relief and that a weight has been lifted off your shoulders?

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