Heartbreak: Month 3

heartcloud
Originally uploaded by GypsyPeach.

Status: Significantly less sucky, with severe suckystorms moving intermittently throughout the region

"I think it's getting to the point where I can be myself again. It's getting to the point where we have almost made amends. I think it's getting to the point that is the hardest part.... You think it's only fair to do what's best for you and you alone. I think it's time to make this something that is more than 'only fair.'"
-Barenaked Ladies

I do know that Stephen is reading regularly- (Everybody smile and wave)- and he's made it quite clear that he doesn't care if I call him a fucker because, in his words, "that's what blogs are for" AND "[he] gave up the right to care about being called a fucker." So there that is.

It's sort of remarkable, but honestly- sometimes I still don't know how it happened. When we were first dating, in the very, very beginning when he was still in Connecticut and I was in Prague or at the beach over the summer, he would light a candle late at night and talk to me. Sometimes now, really late at night, I lay in bed and talk to him, and I imagine he can hear me. I can hearing him saying, "I can hear you."

But he wasn't always good for me. When I first moved here, Luke was helping me assemble my bed when the headboard fell and bonked me on the head. It really, really hurt. He pulled it off me, and asked if I was okay, and I was like, "Ow...no...ow...no." But I sort of walked it off. If Stephen had been here instead of Luke, I probably would have dissolved into tears. Stephen's steadiness gave me leeway to fall apart completely, and it wasn't good for me. Because I never do anything by halves, I think I'm also the type of person who can't afford the luxury of being totally overwhelmed. On the other hand, he started dating someone else less than two weeks after we broke up. Yup. Fucker.

Who's a loser? Who? ME! Me, dammit! Me!

;)

On the other hand, there is so much to look forward to. For one thing, in less than a week, my sister is marrying a man who not only doesn't mind when I show up at 3 a.m., but also says things like, "You should have left a dead badger with a note that said: 'Unlike this badger, our love will never die.'" And that's when you wake him up. Imagine how funny he is when he's, like, fully awake.

Moving away badgers now to chipmunks (humor me).. Two days ago I did a story about graduating college seniors and the job market that required me to visit a college campus. As I walked out of the Career Development office, I saw a big fucking crow torturing a chipmunk. I instinctively got all indignant with the bird, like: "HEY! I'm a big meat-eating hypocrite. You drop that rodent NOW, buster!" It did, but the chipmunk was all slow and wonky and "Scary bird, help me!" And then, as if getting caught talking to myself while I walk the dog isn't bad enough, I was all, "You okay, buddy?" to the chipmunk. He wasn't bleeding, but there was a beak mark in his fur and he was really, really slow.

I was debating trying to scoop the chipmunk into a lens box and taking him to my chiropractor (His mother is a wildlife rehabilitator. who once ran into the waiting room carrying a swan whose neck was broken and demanded to use the x-ray machine). Anyway, the chipmunk could still walk, so I waited while he stumbled up an embankment to a little hole behind some rocks.

On a more profound note, I did an amazing story in a battered women's shelter the other day. Cindy said it best: There's nothing quite like that to give one's heartbreak a kick in the pants.

And then today... I met a man who literally took my breath away. I don't know if he'll call or not, but I think he will. I have never, ever said this before (Melissa, Becky- brace yourselves), but he's cuter than John W@nner. Uh huh. Oh, yes, I did just say that. We're all gonna be okay. Me, the survivors in the shelter, you guys, Stephen, even the chipmunk.

Well, probably. Everyone pray for the chipmunk.