So first of all, I should not be awake. It's 5.20 in the morning and there is no reason for me not to be asleep. I know I'm going to be burnt toast tomorrow (today) and I don't even really feel like I need to get something down, here.
Basically, I'm really afraid of backsliding. Because relationship or no relationship, I've had a lot of personal development in the last 2 years, and it would be asinine to toss all of that growth out the window just because of the ways it was spurred on by or woven into my relationship. And it's not like I am going to instantly regress to high-school spaz-brain Alec, but there are a lot of things that I know are adult and responsible and I have just been ignoring them completely and playing pokemon. My responsibilities at work, especially, have sort of fallen by the wayside and I'm just generally off my game. Now, it's all right to take a laziness day or two and just do the bare minimum, but I've had a solid week of just putting things off or half-assing. So while the day to day line level shit is getting done, I have been blowing off all my manager stuff. And as usual, Karl and Sabrina are keeping the ship afloat so well that they probably haven't even noticed exactly how little I am doing.
I also haven't bothered getting new glasses or going to the dentist. Now the dentist I have the valid excuse of still figuring out my insurance payments on my knee stuff, but i could at least schedule an appointment or get a cleaning. It's just such a hassle. And Liz was constantly on my ass to get that done so it's like a quiet rebellion? except I'm the one who's going to be left with the rot-mouth. I'm not saying I need someone to be my professional haranguer and peck at me to be on top of this stuff, but I definitely need to find a method by which to manage my own shit with greater discipline.
The same way that returning to Connecticut would be an evolutionary backslide for me, geographically, singlehood threatens to do the same, developmentally. Not like I'm going to shit all at once, but unlike most dudes who will get themselves back in shape as soon as they're "back on the market" I find it so much easier to keep my health-focus (both diet and exercise) when it is for something (or someone.) Not just staying fit for my lady, but also to be generally healthier because it amplifies everything else. Being healthy feels really good, even if is an expensive pain in the ass.
The spectre of Cheryl looms before me. She turned 30 this year, lives in a hovel full of garbage and has no friends. Also she sleeps on a couch because she keeps her room a sty and doesn't have a job to speak of. And there but for the grace of god go I. Because (no offense guys, if you're reading this) I do not have a life-changing friend-for-eternity in delaware. I like everyone I'm friends with here, but I don't feel like I have any epic connection with anyone. I could move away and keep in touch via xbox and facebook and that would be sort of enough. I would miss Karl from work and Joey. Other than that, nothing. And there are some days I wish i had stayed home like an antisocial hermit (oh man, Cheryl is totally a turtle hermit) instead of going to hang out with a bunch of twentysomethings who still think they're tweens. Back to Cheryl, I live in the same hovel (I do manage my garbage slightly better) have few real friends and sometimes, yes, I do fall asleep on the couch (though I do still prefer my bed when Cheryl is home. It still weirds me out that if I end up falling asleep in the living room she comes home in the morning and burrows into her little nest right across from my dreamself. Weird. Clean your room. Fuck.) And while I do still have a pretty decent job, I need to get my goddamn ducks in a row there or I might not have that much longer.
The gamma-irradiated granny smith apples are back in season at WAWA and I'm excited at the prospect of reintegrating a regular fruit into my diet and thereby recovering some health. I've been on starvation diet this week. I know that's unhealthy, but if I shrink my stomach enough I will be satisfied with smaller portions. It's just a matter of having the self control to quit eating when I'm satisfied rather than when I'm about to burst.
Okay, now that I've weeded out the casual peruser with my inane gibberish, let me get to what I really wanted to get down. Here are a few things I would like to say to Liz but have the good sense not to write to her. Because she already thinks I'm crazy:
I know that when we started dating you had no interest in having kids. In fact I might have categorized your feelings not as disgusted, but definitely in the neutral neighboring territory of vehemently disinterested. And yet it came to pass that we talked some, quietly, on the subject of possibly having kids. My argument being that we should only have 2 because I'm basically the third, anyway. Plus waiting until we were both really financially and emotionally capable of raising children right sort of narrows the window for popping them out. Well anyway. Look. I've been having a lot of trouble putting that imagination future in its grave. I don't want to bury our pretend midget, pear shaped, pale, toe-headed (but very well read) babies. I don't want to bury the nice things you said about me being a good dad. And I hope I do get to be one, someday. Even though it will be with some other (hopefully equally well read) toe-headed kids. And I hope you are, too. A mom, I mean. (Though you would probably have been a better dad than me. Thanks Mr. and Mrs. Burris, for my gender reversal.) I know you're always looking out for number one. I know and respect that. And I know now that you're on your own again, you've probably re-set to your primary plan of being the lady with the boss library and the clan of saved greyhounds, rocking out like Dorothy Parker for the remainder of your days. And if that's the way things turn out and you're happy, I will be glad for you. But I implore you. Especially with all I have seen in delaware (and mtv) of irresponsible idiot children dropping babies all over walmart. The world needs human beings raised in real, loving responsible (if neurotic) homes where they are read to and cared for and camped with. And I still have every faith that you can be the mother I imagined you to be with my ghost-children, if not better. I don't know if you knew how I saw her in you, through my snark and sarcasm, because it is one of the easier subjects to needle you on. I think you would be strong and feminine and smart and lovable and I think you could rear some really good people. You'll have to keep them safe from Uncle Mike and Aunt Kasey dragging them to church, daily, but that's a worthwhile risk.
I miss the family. I miss Wayne. In the immediate aftermath of the breakup, people wouldn't stop asking me how I was doing. I took to saying "just another day on this side'a the groun'." And I realized about the fifth or sixth time I said it that although I had never heard Wayne turn this particular phrase, he totally would. And I was also, I noticed, performing it in my completely awful and never perfected Wayne impression.
I miss a lot of the things you helped me to be, but I'm working on reclaiming or securing them. I want to thank you for everything that I got to be. With you, with your family, with our imagination-future. I don't think I can ever put it totally to rest, but I might eventually just be able to put it in my memory box. I hope you find someone who fits you and makes you happy. I would like my kids to play with your kids someday. Or to enroll them in your seminar, or take a daytrip to the museum you curate. I'm sorry that it ended, but don't you dare disrespect either of us by treating it as if it was inevitable. I still believe in whatever multiverse where we're still together. I believe in their toe-headed kids. I believe in their ghosts and I cherish ours even as I am haunted by them.
I've never loved anyone the way I loved you, and I hope I never do again. I hope when I love agin, I love that person in her way the way I loved you in yours. I am glad of the happiness. I am sorry for the hurt, and I am a tornado of pride, grief, loss, love and hope in its aftermath.
goodbye, forever
(let's stay friends)
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