Wishing My Days Away

I woke up Tuesday morning wishing the day were through and it were Wednesday already.

First on the make today go away list: an interview with Lucas from the Cliks. I’m very new to this article writing thing and interviewing thing and I got all freaked out cause like, they have a manager and stuff and you have to go through management to get an interview and I am used to bands who do everything themselves and the whole management thing felt very much Out of My League. 2:30 rolled around and no phone call, no phone call, no phone call. I was sweating. Turns out he was weirded out because he kept getting my work answering machine and couldn’t figure out why he would be calling some tobacco free place instead of a journalist. Anyway, the interview went well, I thought. We’ll see how the article turns out. It’ll only be available online unless a lot more adverts get sold in the next few days.

Second. And this is the big one. I saw the Great Dater last night, for the second time this month. We broke up. I knew it was coming. I’m not sure if he knew exactly, but he certainly wasn’t surprised when it came.

If I’m going to be intimate with someone, even if it's casual like me and the GD, even if it was really really really casual like me and [redacted], I want them to be passionate about me. I want to be swept off my feet, I want to sweep them. Even if it’s only for three hours of messy kissing and rolling around. Even if it's feeling beautiful for 5 minutes on the sidewalk when I run into them. As lovely as the GD is, as much as I recognize the many ways in which we fit together, I’m not willing to give up passion for ease. I thought I maybe could.

Funny thing is, it’s not like I’m ready for a serious relationship. I feel a little stupid for this, but I am still heartbroken over breaking up with my ex. At that stage where it feels like I’ll never be able to open myself like that for anyone again; and why would I want to anyway, because it’s always going to end badly; because it always ends badly. For me, at least. And then my more sensible, less bitter voice soothes that away by repeating: it takes time, sweetie, just give yourself time.

My more long-term readers are probably not surprised about this turn of events. That’s another funny thing. I gushed, I think, when I first started dating the GD. Then silence. You can pretty much figure that if a blogger becomes quiet about her dating partner, things are not going well.

For four reasons.

One, if you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all. I do mostly believe that, though anyone who knows me well certainly knows how catty I can be if I’m riled the right way. But it’s also dependent on Two, me writing under my own name. If I were a pseudonym, if Ottawa weren’t an impossibly small town, if the e-world weren’t an impossibly small space, I’d say whatever I wanted about anything happening in my life. But those things aren’t true and there are lots of people who read this who know the GD’s true identity. So when I’m hurt and pissed off that he didn’t call me on his birthday when he said he would,* even though he's READ MY ZINE and should therefore KNOW BETTER, and that's all I've got to say about my love life, well, I'm just not going to have people judge him harshly because I might feel slightly better for venting. In more serious relationships, well, if it's going badly, chances are I'm going to want to make myself feel better by having a public face that isn't all crying and frustration. And a good blog post isn't worth a big fight with your partner. I can tell you that from experience.

Three, you just can’t blog everything. Right now, as a matter of fact, I am not blogging about internet dating, I am not blogging about the great Girl Detective practice we had tonight, I am not blogging about the course I started on Monday, I am not blogging about my day at work which was first very hard and then very satisfying. And tomorrow, there will be another handful of things I am not blogging about. So I pick what I’ll want to read in a year. Will I want to read any posts about how I found it demoralizing to sleep with someone who found me pleasant? No. No I will not.

So I blogged about other stuff and figured that either I would start gushing again, but maybe a bit quieter, or I would write to let you all know that the GD and I are going to be great friends. I love that I can call him up and we can walk around the neighbourhood for two hours snooping in people’s houses and shooting the shit. He’s easy to be around. We operate at the same speed, we approach day-to-day life in the same way. I’m sad for me that those things aren’t enough, because otherwise I think the GD and I could have gone on for a long time in that not-casual/not-serious holding pattern that was really, uh, pleasant.

I don’t know what next.

I feel tired. I feel like my heart is a dense impervious mass: a white dwarf slowly cooling in the cage of my ribs, unable to fuse the elements left to make light.

I wish I didn’t feel broken. I wish I didn’t care about being in love. I wish enough was enough.




*He apologized, don’t worry. 'Sall good.