Waking Up

After so many months of wishing and hoping and compromising and waiting for BN2 to want to go exclusive, I no longer think that’s what I want. It’s like chasing a diamond and suddenly realizing it’s a rhinestone (or, so as not to date myself so badly, a Swarovski crystal). It’s also very liberating – and very scary.

The problem is no longer other women – or really, the major problem is not just other women. I don’t want to be treated like this anymore. I don’t want to be talked to like this – told about my “B minus” conversation (yes, really), and asked “What did you add to this weekend?” I don’t want to be told that what I’m feeling is “unjustified” or “counterintuitive” – or told that I’m not allowed to feel hurt by his (often harsh) criticism. In the past two weeks the rage and indignation have bubbled to the surface, demanding to be acknowledged. I’m almost relishing the anger. It’s a sign that I have woken up out of this crazy trance where I end up apologizing for the fact that he’s treating me like crap.

It’s terribly embarrassing to admit that I’ve allowed this to happen. In the past two weeks I’ve had two old friends visit, and – because of the black hole I’ve been in for months (a black hole partly born of my relationship with BN2 – they knew precious little about BN2. I told them both the story from start to finish, alternately cringing and – yes – crying.

Now all that remains is to end this for good, and I’m just trying to determine how and when to do it. It is complicated: he’s coming with me to the Venice film festival tomorrow, and then I’m supposed to stay at his place in the 12 hours between me returning from Venice (he’s coming back to London a day earlier) and heading to Miami. What’s so complicated about that? My ticket to Miami is on his miles – which he gave me way back in April, the last time I was in Miami (and returned from that trip to find earrings on the nightstand that weren’t mine, but never mind about that). I think that – given enough time (and on miles tickets it doesn’t take much) -- he’d be just vindictive enough to cancel the ticket, and I absolutely have got to be there for my grandmother’s 90th birthday. (I know, I know – this is all very mercenary. But sort of necessary at this point. The flights at the times I need are over a thousand pounds. I wouldn’t say this plane ticket is the only thing I got out of these eight months – that’s unfair – but…)

So… possible options include: On his last morning in Venice (probably unwise for plane ticket purposes), in the morning when I leave for Miami (just seems wrong), or by phone when I’m in Miami (I’ve long considered not doing it in person, since I’ve been unsuccessful with that on two previous attempts). A friend suggested I send an email – since every time I speak to him he seems capable of Jedi mind tricks (see “I apologize for the fact that he treats me like crap,” above) and then follow it up with a phone call.

I just want this – all of this, post-breakup pain included – to be over. Earlier today I was checking one of my email accounts and deleting a couple of messages from him, thinking: If I don’t I’ll see these after we break up and I’ll be pained by them. The trouble is, I think everything is going to pain me for a while. More or less than being with him? I don’t know. I guess I just have to close my eyes and jump already.

* * *

In spite of, erm, the weight of all this, I’m doing OK with the weight.

I haven’t binged in 15 days. In fact, today – should all go according to plan – should be 16, one day more than my previous attempt (which ended in sausages and chocolate in France). If I can make it past 35 days, that will be more than I have managed this year. But between Venice and Miami – and what I wrote above – it isn’t going to be easy.

Weight: I have no idea. A few days ago it was 11 stone 13. I can live with that.