So, i dreamt of my ex last night. Yeah, pretty much. I don't know what brought it on, but i'm assuming it has something to do with the excessive amounts of bbq i consumed over the weekend that i'm *still* trying to digest - thus bequeathing me with all kinds of restless nights and a bad case of heartburn.
Indigestion. The gift that keeps on giving.
*pops tums*
Anyway, its interesting how people have a way of making an unexplained appearance in your dreams. Your mind's version of a protracted opera, its complete with an ever revolving cast of characters. Sometimes their connected, sometimes not, oftentimes an appearance is downright weird. I've had dreams featuring stephen hawking,(ok that's explainable) the guy who I would see so often at 18th and market during my lunch break that we became friends - of a sort(fruit any good at the fruit truck today?), dreams featuring a brief encounter -(the cashier at walgreens) and a random movie star (burl ives? wtf...really? lol)
So last nights dream featured the Ex.™ Ok, great.
It was one of those dreams where the setting is one place but that place looks awfully similar to something else. In this case we were at the supermarket, but the supermarket really looked like an amusement park. At least thats what i *think* it looked like. The aisles were made of blacktop and about 30 feet wide.
We were talking about...something...i can't remember(oh how i wish for the days when i could remember dreams in explicit detail!) but i know that i could hear his voice clear as day, all the vocal inflections that endeared him to me were there. I saw his form in front of me and i remember feeling this pleasant calm at the situation. It seemed so real.
And then i woke up.
I lay in bed for a moment, staring into the darkness. Sitting up, i looked over, peering at my clock, and tried to read the arabic numerals with eyes that didn't want to focus.
3:30 AM.
It took me a second to get adjusted to my surroundings, to become fully awake, and recall the dream. Once i did that, i felt something i haven't felt in a long while:
Sadness.
When we first broke up, i was a wreck. I spent two weeks being an ambulatory cliche; red rimmed eyes, no appetite and wallowing in sorrow. I *finally* understood what toni meant as she bellowed in her velvety contralto -"i shall never breathe again." (heretofore that song was infinitely skippable, actually it still is - but nevertheless i felt her pain.)
Going to work was a trial. TPS reports? Who cares! Can't you see i'm heartbroken?? I thought i was above being hurt the way i was hurt. I was wrong. The pain was palpable, intense in a way that no physical pain has ever come close. I had underestimated my ability to feel grief - and was brought low low low(shorty got). Like the straight A student who is humbled as s/he receives his or her first failure. You sit there looking at your report card in complete shock.( i speak from experience. I will never forget OR forgive you Mr. Meroney!)
I *had* been a straight A student in affaires de coeur. Up until the Ex™ every one of my "situations" had ended amicably, and though there never was reached the platonic level of an elaine and jerry, i always knew i could call a former just to say hello. At the very least i would never feel compelled to duck and run if i should see one of them walking the street.
But this relationship was different. I loved hard, fought hard and then loved even harder. I hesitate to label us dysfunctional, when on the contrary i feel we were on par with the average couple. No keyed up cars or rison-ing over here. It was more that we were both bullheaded people with strong personalites. And when the time came for us to really *give*? Well neither of us exhibited the maturity required to be the first to say "uncle". Then again maybe that is dysfunctional. I don't know. I'm not trying to analyze it, it just was.
The break up was messy. Im ashamed at how it all went down, really. Years of intense love stripped down to reveal a congealed mass of insults and deliberate jabs to our emotional achilles'. We knew where to hurt each other, and we did.
The vile words flew out my mouth(no expletives just cutting *cutting* words) and as i said each one, i was thinking: "what are you doing? what are you saying? You don't mean it!" But i doggedly kept on, because he had hurt me, and i wanted to hurt him back. And because i hurt him, he wanted to hurt me. We were adults acting like squabbling children. It was too much to be borne.
(at first i thought i'd share some of the things being said, but no. I joke about you guys seeing me as less that a paragon of perfection, but seriously. If i wrote some of the things i said yall would be judging me HOARD. And rightfully so. I can be brutal when provoked. :/ )
The tirade was done and we sat quiet, breathing heavy. My heart wanted to apologize but my mind wouldn't let me. Instead, i opened my mouth and these two words flew out:
"Its over." My trump card.
I don't know what i expected; a "baby baby please"? tears? abject apologies?
Instead:
"Fine."
He uttered that word with such resolve and finality that i knew there would be no turning back. If nothing else, i knew him and i knew when he made up his mind.
I flinched inwardly, but outwardly kept the game face.
And just like that we were done. I wish I could say we broke up over cheating or something equally as egregious and..."tangible" - for lack of a better word, but there was nothing like that. It was complicated, but not in the traditional way. Perhaps if we had been more willing to be mature, we could have weathered the storm.
I tried calling him over the next few weeks in a feeble attempt to make up. He wasn't having it. When he wasn't ignoring my calls he would pick up and brusquely say: "i'm busy." I was playing myself but i didn't care.
Oh...this must have been the desperate plea Erykah was talking about. I was acting so unlike myself that sitting back thinking about it i'm amazed.
Then one day i called, and much to my surprise, he was talkative. And pleasant. It was almost like old times. We conversed for a good 10 mins, superficial stuff of course ( i wasn't trying to scare him away with declarations of everlasting love) when he abruptly interrupted our idyll:
"I gotta go."
"go?" I was confused. Weren't we having a good conversation?
"Yeah." No explanation.
"Why?" It was a plea despite my effort to keep the question emotionless.
"I have a date." I could hear the smirk in his voice. "She'll be here any minute."
There are no words sufficient to describe what i felt at that moment, or, if there are i am not aware of them. A lump formed in my throat, that as much as i swallowed wouldn't go away. In our weeks of broken-upness, i never considered him moving on. I thought were simply doing a dance; the dance that star crossed lovers do, while slowly work their way back into each others lives. My vanity never considered the possibility of him being attracted to another woman. Or another woman being attracted to him. Not so soon anyway. Why didn't I? He was a good guy. He was good looking. Good job. Intelligent, sensitive. Did i really think those traits that attracted me to him would go unnoticed by others? Was i that arrogant to think that he would pine over me the way i was over him?
He interrupted my stunned silence:
"did you hear me? I gotta go."
And then:
"hold on a sec."
He put the phone down and i could hear movement - the sound of his floor creaking from beneath his feet, the door opening, and...a woman's voice.
A few seconds later he came to the phone.
"yo."
"yeah...?" I said softly. I could feel myself teetering on the verge of hysterics. I wanted to scream and cry and say i'm sorry and tell him how much i loved him. All the things i refused to say when i had opportunity. I was ready to let loose and have an effie white moment, and i didn't care if anyone else heard.
...But something stopped me. Some semblance of dignity, a feeling of self worth that wouldn't allow me to efface myself in such a manner. I swallowed back my desire to carry on. My shoulders slumped in resignation. The fight that i had for *us* was no longer in me. My continued overtures were not welcome. I was defeated. I had lost and he had won. I had broken us up in a fit of capricious one-upmanship and i wouldn't be able to reverse that damage. I gambled and lost. He moved on and it was time i did too. I felt a lone tear well up and then make its way southward.
There were questions, so many questions. who was she? Was it someone he knew before we broke up(please no), or someone he recently met?(the lesser of two evils) was she black? white? other? Was she pretty? Prettier than he used to say i was? Did he tell her about me? Was she laughing at me as the desperate ex girlfriend? Is she better at --
"I gotta go" he reiterated. "bye Alexis."
We never talked again.
His number is still emblazoned in my brain, even his parents number, and for a while i kept up with them, because i liked them so much. But then it was too much for me. I wanted to ask about their son, but i was afraid of the answers, so i didn't.
It took a few months but finally i got over it. And now, sometime removed from the whole affair, i can say with confidence: I'm good.
But then this dream happens and suddenly i'm wondering about him and what could have been, if only we tried.
In the darkness i saw my cell phone charging light glowing green.
What if...?
3:30 am and im contemplating calling him. No drunk dialing, no mind altering substance on which i can place the blame for the sudden desire to commit an emotional seppuku. BUG.GING. Yes, I was fully lucid, and contemplating calling an ex at three in the morning. I knew it'd be risky, but somewhere in the shadowy recesses of my mind i reasoned that he just might be happy to hear my voice. Or, maybe he's been thinking of me, missing me. Maybe he too is sitting on the edge of his bed, contemplating calling me as we form some weird synergistic-romantic-comedy-crap-sleepless-in-seattle-you've-got-mail- any-meg-ryan-movie tableau.
Or...maybe he's not.
Maybe i'm out of control and need to limit myself to one helping of the meat group at a bbq. I came to my senses.
So I laid back down, ignoring the urge. This too shall pass.
Sometimes you don't get closure.
Jay Z - Allure
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