If you've been following my blog from the beginning, then you know that I cut ties with my Ex back in September. Well, I somehow went and undid all that last weekend. I know, I know. What the hell was I thinking, right? Well, the last few weeks have been very difficult for me, so I guess I wasn't really thinking at all when she called (even though I told her we can’t be friends) and asked if I’d like to go out for tea. I shouldn't have gone, but I had a complete moment of utter weakness, and suddenly I really needed a tiny ponies fix. You see, not seeing my Ex drives me nuts, and seeing her makes me nuts. So, whatever, I’m nuts.
Before I get to our conversation over tea, I should probably back up a bit because what led up to it actually started when my uncle passed away. She’d called to say that she was sorry for my loss, and I was really feeling out of my mind at the time, so I totally went off on her. I mean, it was a super evil tirade. If anyone ever yelled at me the kind of things that I yelled at her that day, I would have told them to go straight to h*ll, but my Ex just took it like a punching bag. She also continued to call me for the next few days, until I finally had nothing more to yell about. Either she’s a masochist, really misses me, or both. I don’t know.
Anyway, back to going out for tea… We sat & talked for quite some time. Actually, my Ex did most of the talking. I mostly listened & observed. I don’t know if it’s because I was feeling extra sensitive myself, but I felt her sadness and remorse for the first time. She isn't the women that I once knew. The mess she created changed her. Suddenly, I just wanted to grab her, hold her in my arms, and tell her that everything was going to be OK, but the truth is that everything is not going to be OK any time soon. Plus, she scares me. I mean, even though I felt this sudden urge to comfort her, the fear I feel when I think about letting my guard down is still very strong. So, I have to wear my full metal jacket, my helmet, and anything else that knives can’t penetrate, and I pray that doing so isn't a mistake.
On and on she talked, apologizing to me, telling me how she doesn't like having me on the outside, until I just couldn't take it anymore. I told her that it didn't matter what she said to me because she’s the one that put me on the outside, and that she’s the one who was going home to that disgusting pig when we were finished having our tea. Again, she apologized, but I’d had enough. I quickly changed the subject by asking her if she’d had anymore of those weird dreams she’d told me about a couple of months ago. Well, her eyes lit up and...
My Ex: I had this dream about baby carrots growing all over my legs. (Did she just say 'baby carrots' ?)
Me: Uh, OK. What else?
My Ex: There were also these big black moles (Ewww!), and they left big holes on my body when I peeled them off. (Gross!!!)
My Ex: Why are you looking at me like that?
Me: You scare me.
My Ex: Sorry. I scare me.
Me: I’m sure you do.
My Ex: JB, do you think I’m twisted? (Uh, just a little bit.)
Me: No, not all.
My Ex: In my dream book, all my dreams are about feeling guilty about the stuff I have done. I need to fix things. The past haunts me. J'étais très méchant avec toi. Je suis désolé. (translation: I was very nasty with you. I’m sorry.) I don’t deserve your friendship. I am disgusting.
Me: Are you asking me to disagree with you?
My Ex: Non, je suis dégoûté. (translation: No, I am disgusted.) I am disgusted with what I’m doing. This is why I have all these dreams. I am bad.
Yes, and I am stupid, I thought to myself. Seriously, what the h*ll was I doing? The conversation never changes. She’s still very sorry about what she did too me & I’m still subjecting myself to her ‘I’m so sorry’ speeches. It was definitely time to call it a night.
Before we headed out the door, she leaned over to hug me, and I actually felt a little nauseous. I never thought her touch could make me feel that way, but it did. As we parted, she asked if we could see each other again. I should have said no, but I heard the words “Sure, call me” come out of my mouth instead.
~ sigh ~
Clearly, I’m the masochist.