I curled up into a ball and was hyperventelating. I've always thought that kind of thing was done for effect, but since I had no audience and didn't really realise that I did it until just now, I guess it's a real response to devastation.
I called a friend, who said she'd come over later, and then realised that wasn't good enough, because I was really panicked. I called my mom, and left a message like "-pant- mom -pant- please -pant- call". Then I called Kim at the hotel, although I tried mightily not to. She didn't answer the phone. Stupidly, like a idiot jilted guy in a movie, I went to the hotel and knocked on her door, praying that she'd be there and could hold me.
Well, thank god for little things. She was there, she did hold me. But, she was just a little colder than before, not as sorry, more thinking about her new life with him. She'd already promised herself to him, then, so I could no longer kiss her or make love to her. I just couldn't believe that one day she'd be mine, the next his, and I couldn't touch her. But she didn't want to start her new relationship with a betrayal.
Of course I realised that in one more day (he gets into town tomorrow), I can't turn to her when I panick. That thought scares me.
While I was there my mom called, and it turns out she didn't have my cell number and when she got my message she feared the worst (rightly) and called the police. Oddly, she told them to check Kim's hotel room but didn't call BEFORE she did this, so the cops showed up while I was talking to her.
The cop was nice, but, let's be honest, I've got enough acting skills and smarts to convince them of pretty much anything I damn well want. Mom had said if I don't impress the cops with my rationality they might "suggest" I go spend the night at Harborview. I sort of played with the cop to see if he'd make the suggestion, just because I wanted to hear what a suggestion like that sounded like, but I stayed on the safe side. He left after admonishing me that I should think about all the people I'd hurt if I did anything stupid. Yes, well, if I felt like the sum of their potential pain came anywhere near my actual pain, that'd be an effective argument. Right now, to be perfectly frank, I don't give a rat's ass about anyone or anything except trying to get through this pain. (No, I didn't say this, I just nodded dumbly.)
After I left her (she had to call him and tell him what was up), I went over to Mom's, where she told me that, actually, the police wouldn't have literally "suggested" I go to Harborview, they'd have just cuffed me and taken me. Hmm. Once again, this is information I could have used YESTERDAY.
I couldn't stay long with mom, because I've found that staying in one place for too long I start to notice how she's not in it. Going from one place to another is better, because maybe the place I'm going to isn't going to be so full of pain. Disappointingly, they all are.
So I went home, and called a friend again, and then Wolfe called, and said there were a bunch of people who'd like to come over, but I just didn't want a big audience all staring at me in my pain, and I knew I couldn't pull off another brave front like I had on Monday. Monday I still had my friend denial. Oh, I miss him.
I told Wolfe to come on over alone, so he did and we talked and I drank some juice and then I threw up. Being the sweetest person in the galaxy, he made me some soup and did my dishes while I rested my head on the table. I was very tired.
I finally told Wolfe that I was going to try to sleep around 11, but since (a) I was nauseated (whether from Zoloft, the antibiotics, or lack of eating in three days, I don't know), (b) Zoloft causes insomnia, and (c) the love of my life had just left me (come on, people, try to keep up here), I couldn't sleep.
No words to describe being awake, alone, feeling like all the happiness in your life is now behind you, and trying to contemplate how to go on when you no longer want to go on.
That's what I discovered when I realised she wasn't coming back -- that I didn't want to go on. Before that, I was upset, but I was just trying to figure out how to go on. I was focusing on being a better person, getting my life in order, fixing up the house, so that if she came back to it she'd never have to leave again.
But now, the question isn't how, it's why? Why when your happiness has left?. Of course the reader is at this point saying, well, there are a lot of fish in the sea, but not for me, there aren't. She was the most beautiful, the most intelligent, and the funniest woman I'd ever met. All three. Where do you go from there? Anyone know any incredibly smart, sexy, funny single 29-year-old women? I sure as hell don't.
Not that I'm even at that point. The thought of being with another woman is just impossible to me.
I woke up at 5am, and was really bugged by some inconsistencies in what she had told me and a phone conversation I'd had with his (now) ex-girlfriend while at mom's. The ex is incredibly angry at both of them, since she's been lied to a lot more than me. She suspected a lot of stuff that I told her probably wasn't true, because when you are with a liar you never know what to believe, so you always believe the worst. That's why honesty is so important, even about the bad stuff.
So, I talked to my new ex on the phone, and she was very tired, and I tried to convince her that if she goes with a man who has it in him to cheat and lie then she gets a man who is able to put aside thoughts of hurting people he loves and who love him and do whatever feels good that moment, and that's not a good long-term thing.
She had to defend her position, of course, which tore into me like nothing ever has. When the only woman you've ever loved is explaining to you that the magic is gone with you, that it's there with him, all you want to do is die. Why would I want to be here if I don't have any magic in me?
She also told me her long-term plans with him, and that tore me up even further. I can't talk about this.
I kept waking up all night again, every half hour, then every ten minutes. At about 9am I was so completely miserable the only thought that comforted me was, well, if this gets too tough I can always pull a Kurt Cobain. That actually made things more tolerable. Somewhere in there I got sick and put my finger down my throat so I could get rid of the soup. Nice try, Wolfe.
I started panicking again, and I was pretty delirious from not eating, lack of sleep, and, you know, the loss-of-the-most-important-person-in-my-life thing. Suddenly I got this wierd vision. Stay with me, folks, this is out of la-la land. I imagined there was this sphere made of polished metal, and it was hollow inside. If I could center it, with my mind, around my heart, it would act like a faraday cage, and keep my heart from sending out all the pain waves. I called it "The Void"(TM).
At this point I was finally starting to torture myself with images of him and her in bed, so I really needed anything. So, anytime a thought would come to me about a future that was unbearably painful, I'd just think "the Void, center the Void, center the Void." And, sure enough, I'd stop panting, and I'd fall asleep for another five minutes.
Kim called about noon, and I was still in bed. I was thinking maybe I wouldn't get up at all, because I didn't really see a point to it. Feel pain in bed, feel pain on the sofa, feel pain at work. Not really much of a choice.
She had to come over to pack some more stuff. I asked her if she'd slept any, she hadn't since our talk. She did manage to eat, though. I guess it's easier to recover from a breakup if you're going to the arms of a man you love more, and you know that although you've destroyed your lover and your best friend, you're getting another one you like even better.
She came over an hour later and I was still in bed. She kept her clothes on but curled up with me, since she has been getting a lot less sleep than me. (Hard to feel too sorry for her -- the week before she hadn't been sleeping because she was so excited to be going to Portland for her tryst.)
So we slept in each other's arms one last time. But, again, of course, she was more distant, more his. Would it have been better for her to just call me and then never see me again, so I didn't have to really realise what it meant for her to choose him over me? At least that way, in my mind she'd just sort of be dead, rather than having actually rejected me.
I told her she really should have arranged with him that she was still mine until Thursday, so that she and I could say goodbye properly. Now I'm the other man, except I'm the other man she won't sleep with, rather than the other man she will. Wouldn't want to cause him any unnecessary pain. Pain is reserved for the man who loved her for 9 years. The new guy shouldn't get any.
We finally woke up at 4pm, and she started packing. There isn't much more to say to her at this point. How many times can I say to her that she has killed me before all traces of her love for me are replaced by pity and disgust? How many times can I tell her that I love her still, and will take her back, before she starts feeling like she has to defend her decision, and in doing so hurts me more? (Ok, this last question isn't actually rhetorical -- I know the answer, because she reached that point yesterday.)
So, in the end, you end up saying, I have loved you always, I will love you always, you were the best part of my life.