last monday, on labor day, i found myself inside an apartment that used to be mine. only for just over a month before we split and i began sleeping on a couch in the house where i now live. it was not until i was walking over there, coffee in hand, that i realized that three years ago was the day we (or i) called it quits. really he called it the night before drunk as fuck as we were pulling into the rockwell station. literally yelled: i think we should break up. he does not remember. but i do. i remember that and all the other fucked up shit he said and did (still not remembering) that led to me throwing my hands up three labor days back. he was not there. i had his keys and was only anticipating playing fetch with one of my favorite cats, not dealing with three year old emotional baggage. i almost started crying. i almost kicked things. i almost took back all my dishes that are still in hiding in his cupboards and left a note saying fuck you for emotionally damaging me when i was too young (or maybe just too depressed) to know any better. i spend my life not dealing. it seems like there are two types of people in the world. people who deal CONSTANTLY. and process and talk and freak out. and those who don't. who shut down. block. move on and the only difference is some sort of emotional distance. i didn't have time to break down then. i started school the next day. and then rehearsals. and a new job. and. and. and i just don't do that so three years later i am carrying this tumor inside of me that breaks out of dormancy when i realize that being in a particular place at a particular time can be really fucking hard.
two exes were supposed to fly in on the exact same day. i was thankful that the most recent ex was out of town because the thought of the fantastic four in the same city made me sick to my stomach. i saw the first one for a quick beer on saturday. it had been five years and it was actually great. there was no wondering and no fucked up agenda. no hard feelings or confused ones either. purely really fucking nice to have a beer and talk about what a great time we had six years ago and what the fuck we have been doing since. the second one just facebooked me this morning. i was so relieved that he was not in portland when i was. he is here until the end of october and i desperately hope to not see him. i can't even explain it but the thought of it disgusts me. we hung out a few years ago and it was totally fine. nice even to drink jarritos and talk on some kid's stoop. but that was closure for me and i just hope i don't run into him at a bar or downtown or wherever people are always at when you really, really don't want to see them.
so now there is the ex that has really been my ex for longer than he has been my boyfriend. we are good at it. we love each other honestly and we support each other in this way that we apparently cannot do with any sort of title. we are flawed in some way that poisons eachother. i am a better person outside of US and that is such a depressing observation. maybe someday. maybe someday. but it seems farther away each day. not closer.
some boy brought me an owl figurine from london. and sent me flirty emails. and visited me on his breaks. so i asked him out for beers tonight. just on a whim because if i didn't right then i never would. two beers and two really awful pool games later we walking to the train and he mentioned the girl he is sorta dating. mentioned in this 'i clearly have to tell you' way that was trying to be subtle yet still incredibly awkward. i covered. well even. but omg. i don't get it. stefin told me he didn't think this guy was cool enough for me. i may have to agree...
