So, last night was coffee with Lisa. She's 36, single and had just left a nine-year relationship. Prior to meeting her, she seemed sweet, smart, sassy and in touch with her emotions. While we didn't have a whole lot of emails or text messages exchanged, we did favour quality over quantity and her perspective on my breakup was invaluable and very appreciated. So, it felt like I was in debt to this person and that I owed her for the help she had given me.
In the two hours we spent there, I was on. Ribald. Suave. Funny. Smart. Flirtatious. Yet, as I stared into her dark, brown eyes I couldn't help but wish they were ..
(sighs) .. Lauren's color.
No. I'm still not over it.
You would think that the cure for a broken heart is to be with someone new, and I'm sorry to say that it didn't help very much.
While we shared two hours of non-stop conversation and later made plans for the weekend, I felt sad afterwards. This wasn't the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, not even close. Though she shared a lot of the same views I do, there was just something "off" about the meeting that I couldn't put my finger on.
It felt to me, as if my body showed up but my heart stayed at home. When we discussed sex, there was a stirring of emotion that had me leaning forward like a giant perv, but there wasn't anything else I was interested in. She works two jobs, is busy with home renovations / friends and with the small amount of free time that she does have, it's not spent on any artistic or intellectual pursuit like music, movies or books. She openly confessed that she doesn't have a hobby, a favourite band or is all that interested in doing anything creative.
.. This sucks. While it was fun to hang out with her and be reminded that I hadn't lost sight of the man I've always been, I still felt disappointed in her not living up to the online persona that she created.
There's something to be said for chemistry, there really is. If it's not there, it's not worth pursuing. But, in this case, I am interested in seeing where it might go. Maybe things will change over time and I will begin to see her in a different light, but I can only be cautiously optimistic about that.
So.. that was the date. It went well. It was two hours. And we made plans for a movie on the weekend. Big whoop. The only thing that I'm somewhat intrigued by is how sexually generous she made herself out to be. Not in the "omg what a whore" kind of way, but in the "I love giving BJs and don't ask for anything in return" way. After having been involved with someone who wasn't very affectionate, this was a welcome change of pace for me.
After we exchanged our goodbyes, I found myself making the long drive back home from the West End. As I passed 156 street, I realized that ..
(sighs)
.. Lauren lives on 149th.
I figured I would drive by. For what reason, I don't know. I just wanted to see her place again and maybe feel a bit better for having done so.
As I sat in the car down the block looking at the light on her front porch, something welled up inside of me.
It was like... I had butterflies in my stomach, but a more deeper and balanced sensation.
So I got out of the car, thinking I would knock on her door, ask for a hug and then leave. I walked up, knocked and it took me all of six seconds as I was waiting, to realize that I am a complete, fucking idiot for doing this.
I turned around and left, glancing at the window to notice a silhouette of her head framed against the computer monitor. Whether she was deliberately ignoring answering the door, or oblivious to it - I forced myself to walk back to the car and drive home.
I hated myself for that. But I'm glad I didn't knock a second time, I think that says something about me that I should be proud of. At least I came to understand that I have some measure of self-control in this situation and that I can .. (dammit) try ..to go on with my life. That I was able to step outside of my feelings and look at what I was doing, knocking on the door of an ex-girlfriend who is unwilling to love and accept me for who I am.
.. I can't be with someone like that. But why.. why does it still hurt so fucking much? Why is it that I'm fighting back tears as I write this and why can't I stop thinking about her?
.. I hate not knowing the difference between love and obsession.
I hate it.
FML.
