Wednesday, March 15, 2006

Weep

As I walked out of my building just now, I was seized with an overwhelming feeling. I mean that literally: overwhelming, as in I couldn't see, couldn't move, couldn't breathe, and definitely couldn't shake it off. Feeling, as in I physically felt as though something had grabbed hold of the soft spot just below my solar plexus, took a big handful and yanked hard.

I am deep in it. As sure as I was when I first heard about the new job and I just knew it was perfect for me, that it would make me happy and that I had to have it -- so too am I now sure that Chris is the guy. So what the hell is his problem, why is he fucking it up? Is this just part of the movie's plot, something I have to live with before the romantic, tear-jerking last scene? Or is this my punishment for talking about it too soon, unlike my long secretive silence about the job, for fear of jinxing it. I hope it's not some punishment or curse for breaking someone's heart in the past -- I've tried to be kind and not too much of a heartbreaker.

Haneway says that I need a guy who's sure that he wants me and is strong enough to go right out and get me, with none of this pussyfooting confusion bullshit. And a part of me agrees with her, but my solar plexus says otherwise. I need him to find the balls to be that guy.

My beloved friends, your positive thoughts helped seal the deal on the dream job. Can you spare a little more of those good vibes to secure my romantic happiness as well?

3 comments:

Nomda Ploome said...

Ummm... I think I have to agree with Haneway here. I'm pretty positive you should go to Boston and not look back. You always have a hard time letting go of anything. I think maybe this guy is your way of hanging on to New York and the life you've had there, or what you wish it could have been. Let go. Whew, it just got deep in here...

Anonymous said...

Sounds painful. Like you're clinging to scraps and pining for something not meant to be. He shouldn't need your leaving to kindle interest. If he were interested or worthy of your time, he would have done something. Walk away and don't look back. Don't waste your time on things not destined to be. He should already have balls. You needn't have to spur him to grow some.

Maggie said...

Well, I did walk away. I'm in Boston now. And I'm not looking back, he missed his chance and now I'm gone. But I felt something and I didn't want to deny it. You can call it cllinging to scraps if you want (though I'm sure you didn't actually mean to sound so condescendingly cruel); I prefer to think of it as being honest about my own feelings, regardless of his.