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She wasn't doing anything she hadn't done a million times before.
And that's of course what terrified her. We all know she doesn't currently feel she sits in the midst of satisfaction and success. She sits in Macon writing on her computer like a sober drudge.
And it was weird.
Usually when she writes you, things spew out of her fingers like butter or she doesn't even come to your table. Now, it was stuttering and hesitation and awkwardness. She was used to things flowing, for hearty coincidences for sure sweet passion and constant communication.
This was more like confusion.
Whenever a human encounters anything, they always access their brain for past similarities. It doesn't work very well for the crone narcissi. She desired to do something different. Of course that's exactly how she found herself in a fucking shit dumbass decision marriage to Andrew.
"Do you love him?"
"not at all. Well, not like I've loved people in the past. I just think he's kind and he helped me not break apart when PawPadz died. I've heard it's much better to have them love you more than you love them."
"why are you doing this?"
"with mark and Kent, it always had some fate element to it - like I knew mark would be my husband and Kent and his deja vu spark. I don't know. With Andrew, when I found out what his last name was. I remember thinking I'd like to take that. To me, it was enough. I was broken from dating a charismatic player, so I gravitated towards quiet, tall, steady. I thought it would be good for me. I thought I had had love before and fucked it up why not try something different."
"well, you did do that. it was singular."
"I'm still picking out glass shards from my soul."
--
And now, she had been scared of the third time. She had felt it would be sink or swim and she didn't feel he was that into her - just into access. She panicked in her safe harbor snug.
From the moment she met this one...
She lays her head down on the desk for a moment.
Resuming typing she notes that this one has felt familiar. She recalls the moment he sidled up beside her at the globe in Athens (a place she had never gone when she went there because it was too intimidating).
"oh, it's easy to recognize you with your shock of hair. How about me?"
He sat beside her, and they talked for four hours drinking Guinness and ESB and sharing fish and chips. She knew at once this was not something to sneeze upon.
Yet, the time after that had elements of fear and confusion. She took him to all the places she had been taken that were cool. She had given credit.
"I wouldn't know anywhere to go, but the one person I know in this town showed me. That's the only way you can get into a town's world isn't it - to have a person bridge you in."
She had messaged her bridge friend. "you're right. I met someone in Athens and it makes me unable to continue what we have. I hope we can be something else though."
What was the "it" in that sentence though? That's what fascinates the fuck out of her.
She wasn't going to - or rather she was going to try like hell not to - repeat the blind mistakes of her past. It felt stupid though - like raising kids - you always do exactly different than what your parents do to you and your kids end up wanting what their grandparent delivered. The old pendulum.
So, she might be stuck in terrible patterns, and the safest thing to do was to
truly learn to love herself. Such a fookin cliche and blah blah. The other day, she actually sat down and was like "ok, what would it really be like to love and forgive this person - me?"
What would it take? She'd have to
ready for this Jesus
start
with
forgiving
herself
(not necessarily the father)
It made her cry to imagine forgiving herself, so it must mean something.
And what could she do differently this time?
She sat across from this man who never complimented her verbally, never texted her between visits except for logistics.
"Look, I fucked up before.. I went for safe when I should have held out for love. Whatever the fuck love is, I'm going to try to have it be in my next relationship. not fondness. not respect. not satisfaction - love."
"yeah, whatever that is."
She had asked Kent what loving a child meant once (so she repeats stories all the time - maybe one day she'll realize it and bang!). She had loved his answer, "I feel warm and pleasant when I think of him always. I wish good things to happen for him."
For her, she would define love as loss of power.
Every time you end something, you measure the love lost.
Twenty five years later, she was probably only just getting over her first marriage.
Oh fuck, that made her tear up.- weird.
"what does this tattoo mean?"
"look, I almost feel like my penance is over, that I can pay the huge money to get it removed - that I might even care enough to give my body back it's beauty - like removing the bonding between my teeth. but you know what it meant? it meant that I sucked a life out and I still wanted to live myself."
"I don't understand."
"You'll get accustomed to that."
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