The Weight

I have had a rough day. 

Here's a thought: I think men, as a rule, process emotional pain differently than girls do. See, girls, I think they "get" that shit better than men do (don't ask me why). Men know about it, sure, but it just does not compute. If you hurt, there should be some physical damage! Otherwise, where the hell does that pain come from? If nothing's physically wrong, it shouldn't stop you. 

Maybe you should break something, then. Punch a wall or something, make your knuckles bleed. Then there's real, obvious pain. You can DO something about that. 

I've have to ruthlessly suppress all such urges all. Day. Long. Not just suppress, but hide; bury. Deep.

It's sort of a joke amongst some of my friends, that I give my heart too easily, too quickly (although that's, ha ha, that's not how we describe it).  

It's true I'm inclined to like people; that I'm oft willing to extend the hand of friendship as a default. 

When it comes to love, though? Truth is, no. I mean yeah, I don't waste any fucking time with it when I meet someone I think would work. But I am very, very choosy about who I dare take chances with. 

Apparently no less retarded, but yes. Choosy. 

I almost let myself fall in love again late last year. That's what I tell myself, that it was "almost", because "almost" is easier to come back from, right? If you haven't fallen, you can catch yourself before you do, right? 

Well I dunno. Maybe that's true, and maybe it isn't. Maybe I'd gotten away from myself when I wasn't looking.

All I really know is, it really hurt to find out that the girl who dumped me just a few months ago, got married last weekend. It wasn't just some schmoe, it's a dude she'd history with, who'd buggered off because -- never mind. None of my business, none of yours. Doesn't matter.

She's moving to Texas (entirely disrelated to the marriage thing). Today was the official sendoff. And although we didn't work out as a relationship, we've still kinda got something, and it behooved me to see her off. That's just how I do.

We started off with breakfast at Denny's. I noticed the ring on her left hand right after we'd ordered, and suddenly all appetite was gone. All the pieces that had been hovering in my mind slammed into place hard enough to set my ear ringing (literally). The mysterious Vegas trip. The photo of "the rose". The Facebook update about picking up so-and-so from the airport. The truth I'd been hiding from myself (as I do, oh yes; some truths are better snuck up on, if you can) was revealed, inescapable. 

I wish I hadn't seen that ring. But it couldn't be unseen. Although I made no outward sign of anything wrong, I could only choke down a few bites of my meal. The whole day pretty much went like that; I'd be fine for a bit and then I'd see that fucking ring...

It shouldn't have hurt. 

I had no claim on her, and no particular hope of getting back with her. And of course this was always going to happen at some point - this girl's ovaries were in full rumble. (Not to say she was a slut; it is to say she wanted kids. A lot.) 

Shouldn't have hurt. 

I can't be selfish in this, I wish them happiness and a wonderful life together. It's the least I can do. 

When we got a moment alone (many hours later), I brought it up. Confirmed my deductions were right (they all were). I congratulated her. So very carefully, so calmly. I think, I hope, I hid that my guts were knotted and rebellious. Maybe she picked up on a little of it, don't know. But she does care about me, I know that. It isn't some "guilt" thing that she likes having me around and counts me as a close friend. 

Somehow this makes it worse.

I'm not one for showing my pains to the world. Even this blog is far, far too revealing, too vulnerable and open - but it's gotta go somewhere and at least this way I don't have to face unloading on someone directly and making them deal with me when they likely have better things to do. 

I have nothing to break.