the pussery

long flights, a couple of ‘em in a row, give a girl a whole lotta time to think. and this particular girl, with so much going on, could use a little time to get stuck in her own head.

i haven’t slept in two weeks. it all started with the best wedding ever with a most unexpected pleasant encounter, followed by starting a new job in a new city whilst looking for a new mbs in a market of slim pickins, making travel and relocation arrangements from 3,000 miles away, all while learning a new trade and trying to maintain the old, and then paris guy…

before pleasant encounter, and in the midst of bridesmaid nostalgia, i sent an email to paris guy, admitting how much of a hole there is in my life without him. that maybe i was ready to reconsider my stubborn no-friends position. i mean, the blog fodder from such a relationship seems pretty close to priceless…

and just to be clear, we’re in safe territory for pleasant encounter or anyone else who comes along if he ends up bouncing. i’m a star. i’ve no interest in sharing my life with a wagon. my life is star-only territory!

paris guy emailed me today with a heartfelt barrage of pussery. for someone as self-reflective as him, i expected more. the gist of his email was basically that he no longer needed to feel any kind of regret for unilaterally ending our relationship and then not making any effort whatsoever to stop me from moving on. because.

wait for it.

i happened to be, coincidentally, and through nothing more than a sweet twist of fate, moving to the other coast.

de nile ain’t just a river in egypt…

and let’s face it, enough of us here know me well enough to know that i’ve a very low tolerance for pussery. i mean, this doesn’t change my position of wanting him in my life. i love him, there’s a place for him here. i miss my sunday morning buddy, having someone laid back and outside the circuit to talk to about social, political, economic, and current world affairs. someone who gets how deeply i wrestle with afghanistan and the israeli/palestinian conflict, and respects and admires my irrational personal responsibility for the affairs of the middle east. not to mention all the other at-home issues that plague my every day.

and it's so much more than just the politics...

but to seek comfort from the guilt of breaking my fucking heart by blaming it on something as asinine and unforeseen as the ‘better things he knew i’d soon have going on anyway’ is not a good way to go about rebuilding a bridge to my affections. and whilst it’s certainly not a deal-breaker, i am disappointed. and like i told him, i am not going to sit idly whilst he attempts to seek solace from his own regret without pointing out that he chose fear over hope, certainty over chance, and loneliness over me.

the end.

~k