In High Gear

So, how are ya, Spring?

The thing that hovers at the top is what his friend said in warning me about becoming Get Over It Girl. Given that this was said just a month after the breakup of an extremely intense and life-changing relationship, and given that I’ve heard it took more than a year for this individual to Get Over It themselves … well, I should take it for the foolish statement it was and move on. Still, the question of whether I’m Getting Over It floats on the surface with a rainbow oily shine.

Am I getting over it? Well, yeah, piecemeal.

I am definitely over thinking or feeling that he loved me. He latched onto me because I float. Attractiveness through buoyancy. End of story.

I am certainly over any aching or longing about how at home I felt at his place. I’m mostly over missing the cats.

I don’t feel stabby pains passing the Publix. I no longer think of coffee, bottled water, or cat food that need to be picked up on the way to his place. I make coffee at home again without even a thought of him. Coffee used to be my big specialty at his place.

About 50% of the time I pass his exit on 95 without any fleeting thought of him. The rest of that time the thought is fleeting and dismissed.

I am so over his terribly sincere apologies.

I am over any sexual desire. He looks to me like a shambling ape. He might look more human to me if I ever feel more charitable, but that’s some other time.

I am over caring what becomes of him. He’ll be his own demise. I’m over wanting him to find agony, but I’m also over wanting him to be happy. For a while I wanted him to learn and grow, but that’s stupid. He hasn’t so far and he won’t now.

I am not quite over losing the friendship. I still sting at the betrayal. I tried to be a good friend to him and help him grow and be a support, and in return he sent the goon squad after me, and the things that were said made it plain he’d been filling them with all kinds of twisted crap about me. I should have expected that sort of thing. If people talk about other people, they talk about you.

And he did talk about people. A lot. I am not at all comfortable with all these secrets and would like to forget them as soon as possible. So many things he told me about other people that he said he wasn’t supposed to tell. But when you’re talking about marriage, and we were, you share a lot of things, especially if they physically or emotionally impact your own relationship. I want to un-know these things now. Part of me badly wants to know if they were even true, or just further warped tales like the ones he seems to be telling of me. A tiny part of me wants to tell the people involved that they trust him in vain. The rest of me doesn’t care and just wants the stuff gone.

I am a little tired of the vigilance. I’m tired of needing to be prepared to encounter him abruptly and randomly at work. If I’ve had a horrible day and have forgotten to expect him, being in the same space can jar and unnerve me. Anytime I leave my desk I have to remind myself he might be around and I make a point of being happy, because I refuse to play into his complex.

I’m not horribly ruined forever and damaged, the way he (if the pattern holds) wants to believe I am. You see, every polyamorous woman he’s been involved with, he’s ruined her life completely, and she can’t get over it. Every monogamous woman he’s ever known wants him for her owny own, and she won’t get over him. Well, I’m damned if I’m playing that. I’m healthy and happy and moving right along, and he has absolutely nothing to do with any of it. I’m actually rather glad we work in the same place because it’s right in his face. He can’t make assumptions that are irrefutable due to nothing but distance.

At least that’s the way I want to seem until I reach the point where it’s entirely so. Fake it ’til you make it. But it’s still tiring.

I’m actually quite satisfied to be able to ignore him without retribution at fighter practice. And I really enjoy enjoying myself, if that makes sense. There, I’m prepared, and I’m mostly with people whose company I enjoy, and I -do- have fun while there. But I also enjoy his seeing me enjoy, knowing that he has nothing to do with my good time whatsoever.

He used to accuse me of being unsociable at fighter practice, when I am every bit as sociable now as I was then. I do fleetingly wonder sometimes if that occurs to him. But of course it doesn’t. He’s stupid that way.

I’m not completely over how much all these other people adore him, everywhere I go where he’s generally known (except at work where he’s something of a pariah). He’s so charismatic and nice-looking, generally, and funny. This makes him engaging and people like him. He talks a pretty good talk about chivalry and honor. It’s kind of annoying knowing that he doesn’t walk the walk; that a person’s word doesn’t matter unless they -say- “I promise” and even then, who knows; that the things he says about people behind their backs probably explains his intense fear of people talking behind his. That he’s the kind of guy who figures hypocrisy is no big deal.

Poor dupes. If only they knew what he says about them.

However, it is terribly amusing to watch his personal interactions with others from the outside. There’s so much more nuance there. And I feel as though I get more understanding from the eyes of people close to him. Oddly, I feel more accepted now than when I was supposed to be his girlfriend. Guess maybe I’m “in the club” now or something. Or a non-threat I guess. Whatever.

I am over the loss of the libido. Easy come, easy go. It certainly wasn’t worth all the shit I put up with.

It is indeed annoying that the most complete physical compatibility I ever find in my life happens to belong to a honorless twit. That’s just the meanness that is life. I’m mostly over it. I don’t have attacks of body memory often or severely.

I’m mostly over missing his mom. I liked her.

I am in a juvenile way thrilled to be doing so well in circles where he once dominated. More and more people know me, and they’re coming to respect me, as I try to earn the respect and deserve the trust they show me.

I’m getting better. Piecemeal. And still …

At night, on the way home, there’s a radio station playing a show called something like Delilah, where people call in or write what sort of situation they’re in and who they want to dedicate a song to, and the hostess(es) research and find a good song to match. The other night someone wanted to dedicate a song to the woman he loved, but with whom it was all over. When pressed for details he explained that the woman’s mother and daughter thought that it would be a poor match, and that the woman had finally agreed with them, and that he had to respect that, even though it was terribly painful for him. The hostess empathized and said he was doing the right thing, and she chose “How Much I Feel” by Ambrosia.

And I wept and wept. At one time the breakup looked like that - a misunderstanding, some hurt feelings, but respectful. Okay. It was hurting, but it was hurting so much less than it did when the mask came off and all was revealed.

I would like to, one day, be a good judge of character. Sometimes it feels like a blessing and sometimes a curse, but I just read people too positively. I see in them the potential but I overlook the overwhelming suck that smothers that potential, and it brings me so much grief.

I am so looking forward to the day when I don’t think of him at all. Of course, by the time that day arrives, it won’t be noticeable. And I’m sure ever glad for the rebound rule. Several potentially damaging situations have been successfully thwarted by that simple measure. Thank heaven.

So. Am I over it? Not all the way, no, but for how much time has passed, I think I’m right on track.

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My job would go so much smoother if I were allowed to stab people in the eyeballs when necessary.

Unrelated, remember that map last week? Here’s a couple more:

Last night around 9PM Eastern or so.

This morning around 10ish.

That went down last night, grossly hampering karaoke efforts at the Dwarf and ruining the dorky surprise I had in mind for that. Blarg. But corsair2 gave me a phone!

If you work where I do and didn’t get the word, call in for sweet, sweet overtime.

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“It’s Thursday in Florida. What day is it in Texas?”

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I’ve got this filtered because if I pull this off, it will be a great surprise. I want to do White and Nerdy at karaoke at the Dwarf tonight. But I need help! I have no talent with rap lyrics and this song is missing a verse.

springdew.com/help-with-nerdy.html

Are you game?

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… he would bring me this.

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