Ouch. (1) in Open Diary 2001-2018 (Pre-Prosebox)

Remember when I said that I sent Ethan an e-mail the other day? Well, the reason I did was because he’d left a jacket in my car and I thought that he must’ve forgotten about it or he would have asked me for it before he blew me off.

I was right. He’d forgotten. So he apologized for not being more in touch with me, and that he was busy and had “lots to tell” me and asked if I wanted to get together for a beer so he could tell me what’s been going on in his life and to get his jacket. I agreed and we met last night at my favorite bar where I’m not quite a regular because it would get me in biiiiig trouble if I hung out there a lot!

Anyway, Ethan met me there and told me all about some roommate trauma that he’s been having. And that was it! I thought that there was so much more, but that was really all he said! I even prompted him and asked him what else was going on, and he said that was all of the excitement and he really didn’t have anything else to tell me. Hm…“lots to tell”???

Whatever.

So he asked me what was going on in my life, and I revved my engines and just started talking. What is it about him that makes me just ramble on so? I guess it’s because he seems so interested in my stories and my “exciting” life. It just boggles my mind…he’s the one who knows everyone in town. And he’s the one who’s set people up to become famous and make huge names for themselves. He’s the one who’s done so much in his life already. To me, he seems like he should be the one blabbing on and on and on with stories of reckless abandon. I don’t know. I must spin my stories in such a way that he’s just fascinated.

Or so I thought.

By the time I was finished talking, I was drunk (surprise, surprise). And it was getting late. So we went to my car to get his jacket, and he got in because he finally wanted to talk to me about something.

And I guess I knew this was coming. But it hit me from a different direction and completely knocked me in a place where I wasn’t expecting it.

He told me that he had been wracking his brain trying to figure out what was “wrong” with me. You know the old song and dance: 34-year-old single chick, decent looking, fairly successful, but never been married. Why? What’s wrong with her? She must be psycho or weighted down with all kinds of messy baggage…or….something.

But he told me that he couldn’t come up with anything. So, okay? And the problem with that would beeee? Well. I guess that not having something wrong is a problem. Or that there really is something wrong with me in his eyes!!

Interestingly enough, it seemed that my stories of excitement and adventure were the root of some of the issues. My incredibly independent lifestyle! My wild and wacky world in which I’m so friggin’ happy-go-lucky! I don’t need anyone!!! I can handle the whole world by myself!! Others be damned because Ginger Snap can do it all and live to tell stories about it! Whooopeee!

*groan*

And there were other things too. Like the fact that he didn’t feel comfortable with the whole internet thing and dating more than one person at a time. I relate to that completely! I’m the Queen of One-Person-at-a-Time! And it’s very uncomfortable for me to date more than one person because my feelings are usually so intense and concentrated that I can generally only “like” one person at at time. I’m forcing the multiple dating thing. It’s so, so HARD for me to do. But I feel like it’s something that needs to be done right now. Because of moments like these. I’m throwing things against the wall just to see what sticks (not really….not really at all). But see, not a whole hell of a lot sticks. And the stuff that does stick is the stuff that I don’t want. Make sense?

Let’s just say. Ethan doesn’t stick. To me. But he does to someone else. And for some reason I felt my heart crack just the teensiest bit. He was never mine to begin with, but it was still lumpy-throat painful.

And not because he found someone that he really likes. I think that’s wonderful for him and I’m certainly happy if that makes him happy. The part that made me finally break down when I got home last night was the part about me being so damned independent. The part about me not needing anyone. The part about me conquering the world solo. The part about me being ready to take on any challenge anywhere at a moment’s notice. Just me. Alone. By myself.

And after I finally got a long and much-needed cry out of my system (something that’s been stuck inside of me for months—very cleansing), I had a revelation.

(to be continued)