kiwifruit's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Coffee, tea, or me... Coffee, tea, or me? Life has a really sick sense of humor, and this time the jokes on Patrick. Yeah, so I met him for coffee � lunchtime, at a diner � can�t get safer than that. My reasoning being that just in case my heart started doing back flips and I wanted to throw myself at him, I only had one hour, fourty-five minutes really, if you count travel time, to sit on my hands and try and pretend I didn�t care anymore. I needn�t have taken these precautions. I could have met him at some smoky, sexy bar, downed five martinis, and listened to Sade sing love songs all night and I still would have thought he was a complete and total ass, not worthy of my precious fourty-five minutes, much less months of my life, weeks of tears and sleepless nights, and the red wine, chocolate and cheese diet that preceded our relationship. Within five minutes of his arrival he had succeeded in reminding me of at least twenty different reasons why I was grateful he was no longer in my life. I�d like to list all the ridiculous things that he said and did, but frankly its not worth my time or energy. Perhaps someday, when I feel everyone needs a very good laugh I�ll recount the meeting in more detail. For now I�ll leave it at this one little tid-bit and move on (blissfully sure that he is not/was not/never will be worth my bother). Here�s the tid-bit: After asking me about C. he says: �Oh, so it sounds pretty serious� (Uhhh. Duh.) Then he goes on to tell me about how he�s dated a few women since our split, but they�re all too �needy� and �pushy� and �want too much��(they probably expect him to to acknowledge that it�s not all about him all the time � shocking!) So I listen to this and try to keep the smirk on my face from turning into a full guffaw. After he�s done I look at him and say: �Y�know, have you ever thought that maybe, just maybe, it�s you�� He looks at me blankly. Nah. Probably not. Thing is though, I know that�s not true. I know that deep down inside he thinks it�s him all the time. He agonizes over his inability to sustain a relationship. He agonizes over whether or not he has let �the one� go already, or that maybe he�ll never meet her. But, you know what? It�s not my problem anymore. Let him spend thousands on therapy and �find himself� a million times in workshops, dance expression classes, journal writing, and so on. Only to lose himself a week, a month later. Not my problem. I�ve got my own neurosis to work out. End of story�full of ice coffee walked past Gramercy Park, sun shining, breeze blowing, and not an ounce, a smidgen of regret in my body. Ahhhhhhh. Closure. Tis a damn good thing. 8:40 p.m. - 2002-01-21 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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