A year ago Friday I first met the Fig, and he’s been taking up varying degrees of space in my brain ever since.
On Wednesday, he stood me up. He didn’t leave me waiting at a restaurant somewhere – he just never called. When I tried to call him, I discovered his phone was turned off, which confirmed what I had known deep down: That I had reason to be wary of him these past couple of months.
The Saturday before, when I’d spent all day waiting for him to call, I feared I would binge if he stood me up. On Wednesday, after I left him a message I knew he wouldn’t return, I made myself dinner but just couldn’t eat it. That’s happened only one other time in my life: the summer my mother became sick enough to require a full-time aide. The week I was there with my sister organizing everything, I wore sunglasses everywhere because I would tear up at everything, and nothing. People stared at me when I went running in the sticky June heat, because I would cry as I ran. I would run hard and fast and for an hour or until I was completely exhausted, and even after that, I still couldn’t eat.
I haven’t wanted to write about the Fig since Wednesday because although I’ve been thinking about it almost nonstop, there is something about writing about it that makes it fact -- makes it something I can stumble across in my archives in a few months or even a few years and still be pained by just reading about. Because that is among the worst of all this – the little moments that blindside you: a story I know he would have loved hearing, a play we talked about seeing, an expression of his that is so perfect I can’t stop using it. Just 15 minutes ago, my Walks in the Country Near London book fell open to a hike that I know is by his father’s house.
Worse than all of that is me in my head, wondering things that I will not – cannot – ever have the answer to. But I’m trying to work through what I’m feeling, and to remember what I’ve learned from all of this. And yes, I’m eating again – in fact absolutely ravaged the hotel minibar Saturday night after a ridiculously drunken night of bad behavior at a cheesy disco in Riga. I will get through this, I know, but it’s hard and I hate it.
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Oh, I´m so sorry. Really sorry. I think we have all been there and can only recognise "bad news" men retrospectively... or we know they are...but can´t help ourselves anyway. One day in the future, you will really have forgotten all about him and even reading your post shouldn´t cause you pain... Until then, remember how fantastic you look (how I would love to see a before and after photos- even with your head chopped off) and don´t sabotage yourself. Look after you!!
ReplyDeleteI agree with Narcissa - I bet months or a year from now you'll read these posts and wonder why you wasted your time on the Fig. But until then, I know its hard. In these situations I always wish life had a fast forward button. Hang in there.
ReplyDeleteI'm so sorry -- I can't believe he didn't have the guts to talk to you personally. DON'T let him drive you back to food to cope -- he's not worth it!!
ReplyDeleteYou are fantastic and you will find someone equally fantastic who deserves you.
He's a jackass. It is good that he has fully revealed his jackassdom to you now, instead of you getting deeper into the F'Idiot and having to go through this later in an even more hardcore way.
ReplyDeleteI agree with the other posters that there will be a time when you look back at the Fig and this moment and thank the heavens for taking him back out of your life. Some guys are just meant to be flash, not substance. And that's ok, as long as you don't start counting on flash to act like a man.
If you need to kill a minbar or two, ok. If you need to run in the rain or throw something, equally ok. But while you are being sad and upset and disappointed and frustrated, please let a little part of yourself be happy, too. The next part of your life is beginning right this very second. And that is a very good thing.
Its really hard to deal with a person whom you like so much and who treats you badly. You want the relationship to succeed the way you that imagined it would - sharing funny observations, romantic walks, etc. Breaking up seems kind of like a miscarriage to me - you don't really know the baby yet, but you have all of the hopes and dreams for your life with the baby and its hard to give those up.
ReplyDeleteDon't settle for less than you deserve - and you do deserve to be treated like a princess, at least part of the time. We all do. Imagine that you had a daughter; would you want her to be treated this way?
I really enjoy reading your blog - I think you seem like a really smart, funny, talented young woman - don't sell yourself short. Good luck and I am sorry that you have to go through this.