Ya’ll know I had this little meltdown on Seven about AZ getting married. I really felt a sense of loss that I wasn’t prepared for or that I had erroneously thought wouldn’t exist. I had purposefully disengaged myself from his life after I left the shop. I didn’t call him a lot, I really left that up to him. I was preparing myself, maybe he was too.
He did call me about a week before the wedding and then I called him. They were good conversations, I guess.
With the fire and the aftermath, I never got to tell ya’ll that AZ and I were together the night before. It was our last time. Although neither of us have ever said, “Well, that’s a sign,” I’ll say it, “It was a sign, maybe.” At least we didn’t get struck by lightning. That would have been a little harder to explain.
My problem is, I don’t know how I feel or I just feel way too many conflicting feelings or I just get to the point where I don’t feel anything at all.
He and I and his new wife and a friend of ours had dinner on Friday evening. T-Bird asked if I was fucking crazy. Well, yeah. I had to bite my tongue several times to hide how well I know him. Things that she doesn’t know, things she’s just figuring out, things she should have known before she married him. By the way, it was our friend who invited me. Another friend who has absolutely no fucking clue what our history is.
I still want to bang my head against a wall. Actually, half of the time I want to level him with a ball peen hammer and ask him what the fuck he’s doing. The other half I want to wake up and find this is all a bad dream. And as always, I’d love some fucking answers. Answers I know I’ll never have because he’s incapable of facing any type of truth and I know this, because I know him. Because I’ve asked him and he just hangs his head.
Why I’m even surprised is beyond me. Why I give two shits is even further beyond me. I wish I didn’t care. Feeling nothing is not the same as not caring. I’ve felt nothing off and on for the good part of a year now. It started when Kevin killed himself. Then the engagement, then the fire, the wedding.
I know a lot of it has to do with just the kind of person I am. A warrior who just packs everything up and slings it over my shoulder and soldiers on. I just keep throwing more shit in the pack and no matter how heavy it gets I keep picking it up and I keep moving. Some days I have to remind myself I’m not a refugee anymore. I’m allowed to open the pack and throw shit out of it because a lot of it I probably don’t need, nor want, anymore.
Yet, when someone tries to take something out of it, I fight them for it. And I’m a fierce fighter. No matter how antiquated a feeling may be, by Lord and Lady it’s mine and I want it!
And I would never want anyone to know how much it hurts. And I would never want to admit how much I’ve become like he is. Because I’ve pretended to be as happy for him as anyone could be and in reality I’d rather black his eye. Instead of thanking him for the invitation to his wedding, I should have ripped it into a thousand tiny pieces and written, “Are you fucking kidding me?” and “Have you fucking lost your mind?” all over them, and then sent them back to him.
Yeah, I’m a little bitter and pissed off.
Amazing how much trust he has in me to keep my mouth shut. Amazing how he still doesn’t notice his own body language, while I miss nothing. Amazing how she had no idea that he’s a light sleeper, a fact I’ve known for 16 years and 6 months of the 16 years and 9 months we’ve known each other. Does he not still hide the clock in the drawer with a towel over it so the fluorescent numbers don’t keep him awake? Does he still not cover his windows with aluminum foil to keep every sliver of light out? I believe he does. And how can she NOT know the best, fastest, and easiest way to put him back to sleep?
I’m convinced they didn’t have sex before they got married. Which, hey, is fine, but I know she stayed over at his place. How could she NOT know some of these things? No wonder he went to such lengths to keep me away from the rest of his life. His dirty little secret, right here folks. Yep, the dirty little secret who knows all of his dirty little secrets. (Can you guess the song that was playing on the radio when I got in the car to go to the reception? Yeah, Lips of an Angel. The Lord and Lady have a sense of humor.)
Yes, it is truly amazing how much trust he has in me. I could rock his world, right down to the core. Maybe that’s why he compartmentalized me, just to make sure I didn’t have the motive or the means. Maybe it was so I couldn’t cry foul more than I have before. I gave that up when he got engaged. Regardless of how I feel, I do believe he’s made his bed and he can lie in it, with or without her.
I keep telling myself he’s not worth it. I just wish I’d start believing myself. Or maybe I wish I’d have that same initial connection to someone that I had with him, that spark, that something. Maybe I wish I could just move on past this grieving process… that I’ve been doing for a year, on different levels, for different parts of my life.
The New Year starts October 31st. I’d better open the pack a little wider and really start tossing shit out if I’m going to make a fresh start. I’ve buried my head in the sand long enough. Its time to start getting honest again.