Worth It

So I had lobster and white wine again like the old days. He took me around, all over the city, the beautiful places I remember. I wore shoes and got all dressed up in perfect hair and jewelry. It felt good to be that girl again, the person I'd missed without knowing it. I admired a crab cake on another table, "Go and ask for it," he said, like it was nothing. The waitor brought me two. We walked through the lit park and I felt happy again, free to discuss art and culture and know the other person was listening, I'd forgotten what being listened to meant.

He said, "What took you so long to call me again? I waited for you." I couldn't answer, I didn't know. But I was happy to know I am worth the wait.

I felt valued, I felt like I mattered. I'd lost that feeling in all this mess, a year of my time given over for a cheap thrill in Mexico.

"What are you thinking?" he asked. Nothing, I tell him. Nothing. "Is there anything else you need? Let me know and I'll get it for you."

So much, I want to say. So much, and more still.

But I'm not holding any expectations. He's the same as I left him, a pretty, wonderful thing like fireworks, meant to flash in and out, never lasting too long. Or will it? The ball is in my hands now, I like knowing that.

I went to the geyser today only to find out what I had admired for long was only a fountain constructed for wedding photos. I guess it's like that; a year of something beautiful only to see that maybe it wasn't after all. He says he thinks it can be good again, when did he ever have the power to make that choice? Who gives him any of that? Not me, never again. I ran the same Reservoir as Jackie O., alone. The sun was beautiful, he always promised me we'd run together. That never happened, no surprise there. But it was beautiful, just going and doing it, not waiting to be lied to with these empty promises. I deleted his friends, I deleted his number. If he had anything to say, he'd have said it. If he comes up with anything else, he'll have to come to me to say so.

I'm still sad, but angry more now, at myself. For letting it get that far, for forgetting that I am and always was worth the lobster and white wine. That if I am ever to need anything, I have friends and strangers willing to give it.

That I am worth a wait, and then some.

November 2nd

I want to just give up, to crumble into a ball and sleep all day long. I want to stop going to work, to stop trying to be anything but a waste. I just want to eat, sleep and cry.

All I can think about, is how no one wants me. No one needs me around, no one cares. It hurts so much to know I've failed again, and here I am alone, again.

I can't take much more of this, in truth.

Of all the women he dated, all those wasteful, whiney women, no jobs, no lives, no goals other than to land someone to take care of them, it just hurts me to know I was the one he did this to. It was me, I stood out from all the rest; I wasn't afraid to be without him; he figured I'd be ok. Worthless, I'm worthless, so much that only the trash his cousin dates, that drunk, was worthy of being protected where I wasn't. He just isn't ready to grow up, isn't ready, isn't ready. When did he decide I was ready, that he was even good enough? Who told him that? Presumptious scumbag. And it would be so easy for me to break him down, I know all the right buttons, but what good would it do? He wanted to be left alone - so much that he took this desperate plea at some 18 year old, he's got the rest of his sorry life.

But you fall off, you get back on. I can't immerse myself in problems that aren't mine. I have no desire though, no willingness to go through this again. This one, another banker, another trust fund baby, maybe that's what I'm good for. I can't even concentrate on my job, I'm so angry, so sad, so happy all these emotions, a constant swing of things.

But I did better today, hardly any tears. I just need a good rest, a nap that lasts all day, some time to listen to sad music and cry my eyes out. Everyone has a solution, a new man I must meet, date, everyone is rushing to me, quick to insult him, beat him down verbally, even his own friends write me! Everyone pities the woman scorned.

All I can think of is the facts. He lied about everything, and I never got to Hawaii. He didn't enjoy talking to me, the precious moments on the phone I looked forward to, any moments on the weekend. Torture for him, to the point where he was literally running away to Mexico to get away from me. What did he think, I was going to chase afterward? I respect the man enough, even now, to let it go.

I want to go back to the start, I don't like being here now.

Je Suis Ici

I decided a long time ago I didn't want to become my mother. I hold to that, to this day. My mother is a woman with a lot of secret regrets, things I know she wanted and couldn't do, a woman who had to make choices in her life. And this is a big part of who I am, watching her. And there are a lot of things I can tell you, things I can recount reason for the way I am the way I am, but what would be the point? I think it all speaks for itself.

I go through emotional phases, sometimes I'm angry, sometimes I terribly sad, sometimes violent, sometimes filled with such happiness I feel almost going to burst. I've felt beautiful though, these last few days, beautiful. I got up and put on new clothes, bought new jewelry, did my makeup for the first time in weeks, left the house without a push-up. I've felt like myself again.

And one thing is, I'm just so angry. I'm so cheated, I feel so let down. I sit and compare this with so many other men who've come through, he never asked about those; afraid of how he'd compare. Men who taught me business ethics, men who bought me new clothes, new friends, new identities. Men who gave me new perspectives, men who gave me morals. Men who took me for everything I had, men who gave their all. I'm fortunate to have known so many different men in my life, all with their own bizarre story, all with their own place.

And I know there is a man out there who is meant for me. But I'm not thinking of that right now. And I know, this time, I really gave. I really gave. And I don't believe in regretting anything I can't change.

What I want is for people, when they ask me about the situation, is to see me. Not to make endless references to the metaphorical Mr. Right that is supposively always around the corner, or to carry on about what they thought of him, both good and bad. These things don't matter. The world thinks a woman's life is worthless without a man, so much that it doesn't matter how offended she is, only that she knows that the right man is coming; as if this were all she could look forward to. My mother had so many sad regrets I never could see it that way. And I could go on for a hundred years and rationalize and criticize and analyze but the truth is, it isn't worth it, and straying from that is to get off topic and useless in itself. What I need now is to get away from all that.

What bothers me most is ambiguity. But I suppose my own thoughts on the topic are elusive too. But I see things differently now, its stupid to say but its true. I don't envy those girls like I used to. For the first time in a long time, my life is mine. I'm not afraid of the nonsense that everyone will tell me, how I can look forward to a "better man." How I can now have the banker I somehow convinced everyone was the object of my fantasies. How pretty i look and thin, too! How now I can come back out, go to parties like I used to, persue the "right" kind of man, the ones with the Amex black cards. How I should give Daniel a call now, how he's been devastated since the last time. How they always knew I'd end up with so and so, how they knew this wasn't right, how surprised they were that it even lasted as long as it did. I don't need to hear the limits people want to put on me, these expectations of this fantastical "great match" - what does this mean anyway?!- they all see me with now. I know who and what I am. I know what I need and what I want, and know it more now than ever. I'm not afraid to love the woman who's life is apparently worth nothing on its own.

And I refuse to walk with my head down. My mother did enough of that for so long, for fear of letting go would somehow upset everyone around her. I don't care, its so empowering to say. I don't care. I'm seeing, really seeing. And I may be sad, I may be angry, I may feel ugly and eve agree that I am worthless at times, but I'm here.

I am not giving you anymore of me.