I haven't been writing much at all, it's been very hard for me. Most days last week I would just get to the entry page and stare at the screen...

It's been so hard. I've tried to stay confident and positive...however...

This weekend Frank came over on Saturday night. He brought a bag of fruit with one condom in it. I was like, "What's this?" All excited. Does this mean we're having sex? He says no, look at the package. Huh? The description is written in Spanish. He brought me a condom, WHILE WE'RE CURRENTLY TALKING ABOUT SPLITTING UP AND OBVIOUSLY NOT HAVING SEX, because the description is written in Spanish and he knows I am trying to learn Spanish. This is just ONE example of Frank's very BAD timing.

Example #2: We set out for dinner. It's a good restaurant, and I order everything I love. It's hard, sitting across from him. I keep getting the vibe that he doesn't really want to be with me, so he asks me if I am sad. I say yes. Out of nowhere, he says, "Are you going to be my friend?" I am confused. "What does that mean? Are you breaking up with me?" It comes down to this. He wants to separate. He can't do this right now. Just then the waitress puts all our food on the table. Needless to say that not only have I lost my appetite, I feel like I am going to hurl any minute. More BAD TIMING. And he's SMILING, which I can't figure out. "What's so funny?" I say. "We have all this food..." he says. Suddenly I can't stand it. I excuse myself and run for the bathroom. Of course there is someone in there, so I have to wait in the hallway, tucked into the corner so Frank can't see me from our table. Finally the person comes out and I just go in and sit for about 5 minutes, trying to steady myself.

When I got back to the table Frank has asked the waitress to wrap everything and he is waiting for the check. I tell him I'd wait outside. On the walk back to my apartment, I tell him his timing sucks. He says he can't go on pretending. Okay, I can understand that. But you can't expect me to eat and talk about being your friend in the midst of having my heart broken, you dumb fuck.

We talk about it some more. How it's nobody's fault. How we both try. He says he needs to figure things out. I ask him, point blank, if he just wants to break up, or if he wants space and then to come back and see if there's something worth saving. He says he wants the second one.

He wants to go home, but I ask him to stay. I just want to have one night where he will hold me, a final gift. He invites me to his place, but I don't want to go there. I don't want to be surrounded by all his things, thinking it may be the last time I am there. I have more power in my own house. He insists he wants to go home, but ends up passing out with his arms around me and ends up spending the night.

During the day, I had people coming over, of which Frank was one who was going to attend. They came and left. Amidst the flurry of company it was easy to forget what was happening. It was only when everyone left, when Frank and I were alone, that it came back to me.

He said, "I want to go home now. How are we going to do this?"

"I don't know. How much time do you need?"

He closes his eyes, thinking. Finally: "Forty-eight days."

Forty-eight days. That's May 1st. I count it off on the calendar. This means absolutely no contact until this date.

Before he goes, we sit at the kitchen table, holding both hands. This was my idea. To state our intention around this. I told him my intention was to give him space and I hope he can find what he's looking for within himself. He said his intention was to take good care of himself and find some clarity around what he wants.

I said, "Good luck," and went to kiss him on the cheek, but he kissed me on the mouth. And held me. For a long time.

At first I thought that I would let him show himself out, while I was just sitting at the kitchen table. Then I thought better of it. I got up and opened the door. "Take care," I said. And I closed the door. I wanted to be that much in control. A woman has to know when to open the door and when to shut it.

Afterward, I didn't feel anything. I did some ironing. I called a friend. Then I cried. My friend said that hope is not my ally as far as Frank's concerned. She thinks he is too damaged to every let love in. She encouraged me to take care of myself.

I know that it's not me. I know I am a good girlfriend. I don't feel defective, even though at some points in the day, it's hard to love myself. That's just the blues. But in truth I think I am a worthy find. But I don't know what to think. I don't know if I dare have hope, or if I should just go about as if it is truly ended. I don't know where to put my energy. I think my friend was insinuating that I deserve more, better.

I don't know. I guess I was willing to love that 70% man.

I am

numb

exhausted

hurting

silent

alone.

Love,

Duck

[previous] [next]