Well, the party’s over…in fact, it never got started and that is probably a good thing. I was totally unprepared for a pity party. No snacks save 2 Symphony bars and a bag of Weight Watchers microwave popcorn and in all truthfulness, no issues to hold the pity party for: I just do not see me breaking down over a 2 hour meeting with a CL dude who was either too cowardly to speak his true feelings face to face or was upset I did not make overtly sexual promises and the job? Really, I have been there, done that and already know what to do to generate some income. I did feel some anger and I totally displaced it and directed it towards him….I said if he had never laid me off in 2008 (yes, I went there) I would still have a job and we would never have taken anything to another level and I would not be heartbroken and things would be hunky dory. So I was living in Fantasy Make-Believe for a minute…I’m allowed to go there sometimes unsupervised. At least this time I realized it was wrong to saddle him with the blame for my crappy day…he had nothing to do with it at all…and all I did was raise my own hackles speculating on his wonderful home life and compare it to the wasteland I imagine my life to be. Not good, not healthy and at least in the case of my life, not true My life may not be what I want it to be, but it is not a wasteland by any stretch of the imagination.
Since I could not channel my inner Leslie Gore (“It’s My Party and I’ll Cry If I Want To”) in an attempt to re-open my personal Pandora’s Box , I decided to purge my closets and drawers to make room for the retail therapy that is on its way to me even as I type this and was thinking it would just be a lot of giving away clothes I no longer wear and trashing old papers that no longer mattered. What I came across in the drawers were a lot of things that no longer mattered…paystubs from years ago, communications from government agencies when the state and I first become friendly with each other; instruction manuals for printers I no longer had or used; a cloth bag filled with scores of matchbooks (I have no idea why) and pictures and letters. I never throw away pictures…I keep them because I have a superstition that tossing away a picture is somehow detrimental to the person’s soul. It sounds silly and makes no sense, but I always keep pictures and when I look back through them, it’s kind of a once upon a time…filled with memories and stories. So I looked through them….my sis-sis (looking so pretty) and I at an Island holiday party, a couple of cousins, scenes from Costa Maya, and a picture of him I never knew I had. I stopped dead in my tracks….my heart caught in my throat and I could not stop looking at him…his eyes, his hands, his hair. He looked so….everything. I know that does not make sense, but somehow I think someone will understand where I am coming from. I thought about us, about good times and finally I put the picture back in the shuffle and kept going. And saw it again…I always get duplicates when I use a camera with film so I can share the pictures because someone always wants a copy. That picture I took from the pile, and put upon a shelf on the bookcase. I don’t know why I put it there….we are moving further apart (remember, him is being quiet and I am no longer reaching) and I am healing, so he should be put away somewhere. Maybe with the other picture I placed in my panty drawer, but I want to see him. I want to look at his face. Am I wrong for that? I don’t think so….I was alone with a moment in time and my memories and not one tear fell…my heart did not rip and I am not wishing and hoping and praying. I just am….and the picture just is.
So I move from the drawers to the closet…and all I could find to give away to Mini-Me (she gets all my castoffs ) are pajamas, nightgowns and a couple of pieces of lingerie. I did look in another drawer I seem to never use and inside that drawer were a pair of pom-poms (I don’t even know how they got in there as I don’t even own a cheerleader outfit); the scarf he brought me from Cabo; a swimsuit I do not use often enough; a slip I never knew I owned and a pair of men’s underwear. Fruit of the Loom, turquoise with a black band and they look to be boxer briefs. I just stared at them for a minute and my first thought was: are they clean? But they were and I knew who they belonged to….Married Man. Which tells you how long it has been since I have even looked in this particular drawer. And I did not throw them away…I re-folded them and put them back in the drawer and I really have to ask myself why. Married Man and I are so over and done…he is processed and I moved on a long time ago, so why keep his underwear? I have no idea and one day I will throw them out…I just don’t know when.
Perhaps my closet cleaning has yielded me with mementos to remind me that things were not always fucked up and horrible and ugly with the two men I shared huge pieces of my life with. Because they weren’t….once upon a time, with each of these men, I was happy and in love and never wanted it to end. There was laughter and hand holding and sharing of dreams and kisses. There were conversations and secret glances and dancing and feeding each other. Once upon a time, there was us and we were beautiful and special and wonderful. So I will pack up the nightclothes for Mini-Me ( and I am throwing some foundation garments in there also….she swears she wants these pseudo-torture devices), take down the trash and remember my once upon a time(s) (but not for too long) and speculate on who will be the man to introduce me to my second chance at firsts. I will fold laundry, cook dinner and veg out on movies and Grey’s and watch the new episode of Desperate Housewives. I am going to do what I always suggest you readers do: enjoy the day! Oh, before I leave, let me welcome a new reader and suggest her blog site to you: http://capturingthezen.wordpress.com/. She is awesome, insightful and hopefully will stick around to help out with the process if the Panel and I don’t drive her crazy first.