Detach With Drama


Or.

Detach with love.

I know I sound like a wussy, but I chose the latter rather than the former, even though I wanted to be all dramatic about it.

I got a text from the ex again last night.

Come on.

It was hard enough to see him, and just move on, I had my feelings, I processed my shit, I wrote it out.

I thought, I don’t need to do any more inventory, I’ll just do a gratitude list tonight and e-mail my person with that and then.

Eeeooo.

My phone whistled at me.

I had a text.

It was 11:38p.m.

I ignored it.

I was busy watching the last few minutes of Broadchurch, so good, if you haven’t seen it, get on it.  I highly recommend it.

I had forgotten, by the time the episode ended, that I had received a text and I was getting myself ready for bed and checking to set my alarm when I saw it.

Unidentified number.

But oh, very identifiable information.

Fuck.

Leave me alone man.

I had deleted my ex out of my phone, but receiving a late night text about how it was good to see me, even from afar and how it took all of him to not come up to me and engage with me and interact so he could hear my voice, well the number might not have had an id attached to it, but it was him.

And I don’t quote exactly.

I’m giving you the gist of it.

I don’t remember the message verbatim.

I read it once.

Deleted it.

Then I cried.

Then I got pissed.

Then, well, I guess I did have an inventory to write.

When we retire at night.

Uh yeah, I had me some resentments, some fear, some selfishness crop up.

I wrote it out.

I sent it off.

I went to bed and slept like a log.

No texts this morning, no messages, no nothing.

No drama in my head.

I thought about it.

I thought, I should text so and so and call this person and that person and I should.

Get over it.

I should get over it.

Oh.

Who cares?

I don’t give a damn no more.

I’m moving on.

I’d like to suggest to my ex that he do the same.

And who knows, I suspect he is, in his own way, and though it seems a bit bumbly, I’m sure he’s pretty unaware of the emotional impact of his actions.

I don’t believe he’s trying to hurt me.

And he’s not stalking me.

A friend suggested today that he was being selfish though, texting after he asked for 90 days no contact, texting me twice in the last week, really, and that I should block the number.

I hadn’t thought of that.

I suppose I could.

What I did though, was practice being in the moment today.

Being in the sunshine.

Dude.

It was 70 degrees today.

I rode my bicycle home, and it was a slightly chillier ride than I anticipated, but, I rode home without a sweatshirt on.

Just me and my short-sleeved mini-dress and leggings.

Delicious.

I wanted to enjoy every drop of sunshine I could.

I ate well.

I woke up early and wrote extra pages this morning in my notebook.

I devised my hula hoop in my head and I climbed inside the ring.

Taking care of myself and believing that there is enough, more than enough, all the resources in the world, I have them.

I am not deprived.

There will be other dates.

There will be another boyfriend.

There will be more sex.

Please.

Let there be more sex.

It wasn’t forthcoming towards the end of the relationship and I am ready for a little affection.

To that extent.

I got on the phone today and made a call and let the gentleman from last night know that I have a three-day weekend and we should get together.

Has he gotten back to me?

Nope.

Nor has anyone else who I have asked out this week, and you know what.

Who cares?

Again, there’s no drama here.

Detaching from my own expectations around dating too.

However, I keep taking action, that is where the juice is.

Doing the deal.

Of course after the hug and the aforementioned snuggle conversation I had with my friend I was prone to want to see him again, but if I don’t it’s cool.

It’s just more information.

I don’t have to put a good or bad tag on it.

I am just clearing the way for what comes next, or whom.

And my vibrator’s all charged up in the meantime.

Ahem.

It’s a three-day weekend though, and who knows what magic is going to happen.

I’m listening to some Basement Jaxx as I write and I get to go see them Saturday at Public Works.

I am dancing.

I am also going to go to a party for a friend who is moving out of the city indefinitely, so there will be fellowshipping happening and who knows, maybe someone to add to the list.

That’s Saturday in the afternoon.

Tomorrow night I’m meeting a couple of people after work for tea and talk and then doing my regular Friday night deal.

I could go out after that.

Or not.

I’ve got Sunday pretty wide open.

And the weather is supposed to be in the 70s for the next four days.

Excellent.

There are no problems.

My life is lovely.

The weather is divine.

I’m going to ask someone else out tomorrow.

Who?

Don’t know yet, but I will.

Or maybe I’ll get asked out.

Don’t have to worry about it.

And I don’t have to have drama about the ex.

I really don’t.

Even though I have had a few moments of violent excessive thoughts of smacking him.

And then fucking the hell out of him and then walking away.

And well.

That’s not very spiritual now is it.

They are only thoughts though, and I don’t act on my thoughts, they pass, emotions go away, and really, at some point, I’d like to give him a hug and say no hard feelings.

But I think maybe when I am not a single lady.

Whilst I am a single lady I am just going to stay out-of-the-way and continue to not contact him and let it all go.

Sweetly.

Quietly.

Without fuss.

Wearing my big girl pants and walking through with my head high and my dignity in tact.

Like I already have been.

Gracefully keeping my side of the street clean.

Clean as a motherfucking whistle.

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One Response to “Detach With Drama”

  1. Secondhand Surfer Says:

    my life is lovely ~

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