Learning to regulate my emotions

I can't help but feel like I sound like a broken record.

I feel apathetic towards The Ex.

I am unsure about Mr. R.

I can't get over Chicago. I was spring cleaning and found my old keys and practically had a meltdown over my old mailbox key.

I keep wanting to stir the pot a little, but then feel exhausted at the idea of it all. I like my simple life, my regulated emotions, my not losing my mind wondering about a boy. I keep thinking I should maintain the status quo, keep it simple, don't get too attached, live how I want to without worrying about Someone Else.

I can't imagine getting too attached to Mr. R. But I think he is pretty attached, that I could hurt him. I like my orderly life, my things just so, making my own schedule and thinking only of myself. No compromise. I gave too much of myself to The Ex, and I get it, I can't keep blaming him for everything, but I gave him too much, I gave up too much of myself for the good of The Relationship, and I sure as hell am not doing that again.

I am going slowly. I am learning from my mistakes.

Broken promises

I planned to see him last night, but then the day caught up to me and I was exhausted. I could have simply invited him over to watch a movie, do something low key, but I didn't want to. I don't want him in my space. I want to keep him at arm's length and out of my space, because I know that I'll turn on him.

He is being endlessly patient with me but is that really what I need?

This next part

It's been a lot of slow shifting this past week, and I haven't had a moment to write it down, so now it feels like a sudden change has occurred within me, when in reality, it's been slow slow slowly evolving.

Sexy HR Guy has proven to thus far be simply a catalyst. I haven't called him. I'm still mulling it all over. Whether it's even worth it. Whether I'm just wasting my time.

I don't want to meet someone. I don't want to drop my plans because I fall stupidly in love and then suddenly all I think is us. That's what I did with The Ex, and while I don't want to give him too much power, it is an important realization I've come to that I'm really, really scared. I don't want to meet someone, because quite frankly, I don't want to give up my plans, give up my time, give up my life to someone who can leave me. I get it, I get it, I shouldn't let him get to me in this way, that this is just another part of it all, until I come to peaceful acceptance, peaceful seeing him on the street and not plotting murder and/or tears, peaceful knowledge that my life is better. My life is better. I know this. And maybe that's why I'm doubly scared as hell to let someone else into my life. Things are good. I like where I'm headed. I like the things I do, the ways I spend my time, my friends and all the small details, and I don't want to lose myself in someone again.

That's been the beauty of dating Mr. R. There has been no worry about losing myself in him. How could I? He is wonderful and reliable and clever and has hidden talents, but there isn't a spark. It sounds like bullshit, it does, it sounds straight out of a Disney movie, but it's easy to not get swept up because there is no way we could get swept up. Unless he is swept up? Fuck.

What I'm getting to, what I'm saying, is that Sexy HR Guy popping back into the picture made me think a little harder about Mr. R, about what we're really doing, about how it's been nice not to call it a thing but suddenly I suppose it wouldn't be a stretch to start referring to him as my boyfriend and as soon as I thought that I couldn't run away from it all fast enough.

Then I began thinking about The Virgin Bartender. About how I left him that night because he said he didn't want anything serious and of course I hadn't thought of anything serious either, until he said it and I suddenly realized that serious was all I wanted with him. I still can't make sense of it. I still can't figure out why passing his work, seeing his car on the street, running into him randomly, it's how it goes in a small town, but I can't shake him.

It's too soon. It's been six months but it's too soon. And then that lead to me thinking how did I let The Ex do this to me? And maybe it's self preservation, maybe it's wanting to get done what I really want. And then I thought, what do I really want? I want to travel. I want to not be tethered here in this place, I want to be free to do as I please, not give things too much weight because I leave when it's perfect (ahem Raging Alcoholic Bartender), I want to go it alone and prove to myself that I can do it.

Thanks, Sexy HR Guy, maybe we'll have a date, maybe we won't, but thank you for getting me to this next part.

Taking action

When it rains, it pours.

Last night The Raging Alcoholic Bartender, the one I fell in love with over three years ago before setting out for Chicago, that one, he said he loved me.

And Sexy HR Guy popped into my work today, and suddenly it was a little awkward between us, suddenly I didn't know what to do with my arms, suddenly I was so pleased I chose a pretty dress for work. He told me to call him this time, offered a lame excuse about losing my number.

And tonight I saw Mr. R again, I saw him and my friends, we are all friendly these days.

I think having a drink with Sexy HR Guy would be a kind of betrayal, but why am even I so interested in it? Do I just want to stir the pot? Am I messing something good up? Do I want to sabotage it all, every time?

It doesn't come naturally between Mr. R and me, it's a little forced, the chemistry. Sometimes I worry about why he won't make eye contact with me, but then he comes through with moments of generosity, of things I never expected.

With the men I couldn't shake, I still can't shake, though, it was never something tangible. It was always something I couldn't quite put my finger on, some reaction I had to him that was unexplainable, and kids, let's be honest: I don't get that with Mr. R. He is all the things. Except. Except I preferred to quietly come home tonight and blog and have my space instead of spending the night with him. Maybe actions speak louder than words, actions speak louder than me writing it to death.

What's good for me

It's different with him, Mr. R, versus, let's say, oh, The Virgin Bartender, who still frequents the halls inside my head, despite not seeing him on the street of late.

I say that chemistry doesn't mean anything in the long run, but it sure as hell seems to mean something in terms of getting a man who I stopped seeing two months ago out of my head. I know all the reasons he is wrong for me, and I now spend my time with Mr. R, who I can talk to and runs with the same artsy crowd as me and is realistic and loves coffee and asks me to dinner as well as about my day. He is what I want. He is what I need.

So why can't I stop thinking about someone else?

I left my heart in Chicago

It's been six months.

Today.

I didn't even realize it until talking with a friend and suddenly It's been six months since that day, that park; that day that everything changed.

I am better. I don't want to know who he is dating, what he's doing, the nuances of his life, but I'm okay. And I'm horrified how okay I am, how going-about-my-life I am, how I'm getting things done and don't cry anymore and haven't for some time and feel hopeful and excited for things to come. It shouldn't be so easy to forcibly change your life the way I have.

I'm moving on and all I can think is that it's not right, I need to be weeping over this, I need to give it the respect it deserves, because for a long time, this man was my life. How do I live my life without this person I considered my life?

The shift

Yesterday happened and suddenly it's all tenderness. I'm still unsure of what happened exactly, but it was a small shift, it was all very subtle, but I woke up in the middle of the night to a thunderstorm and watched it from my window, captivated, and could only think I wish he was here.

Close call

I'm starting to pick it apart.

I'm starting to doubt it.

We've seen each other every Monday for the last six weeks, and I'm still unsure, I still don't know how I feel, I still can't decide if maybe we're just wasting time together. My indifference worries me: I worry my indifference is turning to dislike, to fearing him knowing me too well, to him being in my house and in my space and me suddenly losing it, wanting him out of my life because it all just feels too personal.

Blindsided

I shouldn't have said it but I did. The part where I told him I'm back to reading the things I wrote while we were together and now all I think is that life and the reason I can't see you is because I'm still blindsided.

When do I stop missing Chicago, stop missing the life we had, the walks we took, the job I hated, the corner markets we frequented? I don't want to go back to lonely Chicago, I guess it's still ugly pride, it's still the blindsided factor, the leaving not on my own terms.

Let it go. Please, let it go.

I was mistaken

The Ex wants to have coffee. Or catch up. Or both.

And I couldn't articulate the things I felt. I couldn't tell him the truth. I couldn't say, It's been six months and I'm better but I still love you and while I do a damn good job hiding it, busying myself so that I don't think it, if I had just a moment to breath I would be crushed with how it's been six months and I still love you.

It shouldn't be easy to forget. It's okay. Right?

Will he get lumped in with the rest? Eventually he will be Just Another Man I Loved, when shouldn't it mean a little more? I lived with a man in college, before I knew The Ex, and now I could care less about him, this man who I spent countless hours with, who I talked marriage with. I have an unsettling fear that nothing really matters, that it's all fleeting, that no one stays with you.

I want to still love him, I think. Not loving him any longer feels like negating the love entirely, feels like it never happened, feels like I can move on. I'm supposed to move on, I get it. Trust me, I get it. But I want to preserve it, I want to feel it, I want it to mean something, I don't want it to be swept under the rug as another ugly mistake. Because at the time, it felt like everything. Everything can't turn into Another Huge Mistake.

I've gotta quit making mistakes.

You got what I need

I'm dating someone reliable and sensible. But. There isn't a spark. A spark doesn't matter in the long run. Or does it? Might I regret it? Heaven forbid I do something I regret.

I'll admit it, now that I'm seeing The Virgin Bartender everywhere, I'm looking for him everywhere. I hate that he got to me. I hate that I have a spark, I sparked with an unreliable, indifferent man. I hate that being with a reliable, interesting, communicative, honest, thoughtful man doesn't stop me from trolling past this other man's bar, stopping by, seeing him out and ignoring him but also secretly checking my phone in case he sent me a message.

He hasn't sent me a message during any of our many run ins. I need to just get used to seeing him around, seeing him on my turf, seeing him on his turf, accepting this small town, and maybe accepting that I want what I can't have, that it's nothing, that he's nothing, that I stormed out of his house half dressed on Valentine's night for a reason: he's not what I need.

See and be seen

I'm not sure when he walked in, but he was there. I first noticed when he walked past me while I was seated a little too close to The Man I Am Dating. Still haven't given him a name. Mr. Reliable. Mr. Returns My Calls.

I had dinner then saw a movie with Mr. R last night, then we went out for a drink. We were sitting at the bar and I was getting sleepy, getting over it, when I saw someone cutting a figure very similar to The Virgin Bartender. I quietly lost my mind, continued listening to Mr. R. I kept tabs on him and found him sitting across the bar with a perfect view of me.

I couldn't look at him.

Could only know that he was there, that maybe he saw me, he had to see me this time, that I should do nothing but have a good time. And have a good time, I did. I was suddenly full of laughs, full of animated stories, full of a good time.

I'm countless dates in with Mr. R and I still wanted to make The Virgin Bartender jealous, still wanted him to want me, to see what he was missing out on, still wanting him to text me I see you.

He has real problems with intimacy, is emotionally cripple, is immature. I hate to say it, but he got to me. I can have dates with Mr. R all day and know that he can hold up his end of the conversation and is reliable and dependable and kind and all the things I want in a partner, but the chemistry just isn't the same. In a few months, if things continue as they are, it won't matter, because he is the kind of partner I want in the end. But that initial spark isn't the same, and I know that.

I can't say I feel it's a sacrifice.

Doctor On the Brain

It was The Doctor's birthday, The Doctor from three years ago, The Doctor who is moving back in July, The Doctor who is apartment hunting here in May. The Doctor who I had a dream about a few days ago, who I told about it, another stone left unturned and another what if.

He's been on my brain since I dreamed of him, since I dreamed he saved me from a bridge malfunction, and now I'm listening to Wilco, the band that is his, thinking about him for no reason at all.