Friday, July 18, 2008

In The End ...

I received this email from Tiggy two days ago ...


Thanks for the messages. The last two weeks have been an interesting vacation, not just from the office, but in some ways, from you.

In our last phone conversation, you asked me if seeing you was hard, and I vaguely replied - Keep on skating, explore new terrain.

It is hard, and I'm over it being hard and painful for me. Your conversation with N is as vague to me as you telling E you might go to Brazil. I realize that, once again, it is up to me to have the big girl panties on, and set the boundaries. I come back to: Contact me when you are actually available, not before.

I started a new profile, started a new blog, and yes, started dating other men. I guess I'm taking my own advice - skating, and exploring new terrain.

I do love you, but I can't hang on to any more false hopes.


And she attached a copy of a post from her new blog:


Blog post: Opportunity Knocking Jul 13, 2008 3:36 pm
Mood: Starting fresh, 39 Views


We were hugging goodbye. The "I am not your friend - I am your lover" kinda hug, full bodied, for many seconds that passed into minutes.

In my head I thought, "One day. One day soon. I will be with someone just like you. I will be with somebody just like you, only they won't leave..."

I pulled back, and my eyes looked into yours, and the words flashed through my mind, "I really thought it was you. I had hoped it was you and I had wished it was you. I had wanted it to be you..."

But you left. Got into your car and drove back to your wife. Damn, I am so done with married men.

The only way to be done is, well, to be done. No more texts, no more reading your blog, no more phone calls. Above all, more than not seeing each other, no more touching. The "3 second rule" dictates that any physical touch longer than three seconds is interpreted by our brains as sexual.

We had a sexual affair. Then the sex stopped, but it continued as an emotional affair. The flirtations, the innuendos, the lingering touches...

My body is on fuckin' fire and I am done being toyed with. Every time we see each other you reel me close, make false promises that you have no intention of following through on, then thrust me away with some reminder of your marriage, of how poor victim you are somehow trapped with no options.

The only way I can have good boundaries is to be clear in myself, or by getting laid by someone else, so my biochemistry can shift already. I know what I want - I know the potential I saw in you, but I am done being in love with potential.

Click. Click. Click. That's the sound of me locking you out. Out of my mind, out of my heart, out of my twat. Knock, Knock, Knock. What's that? Must be opportunity a knocking...

0 comments:

 
Add to Technorati Favorites You Comment, I Follow