Thursday, September 22, 2011

Battle time.

Dr. Shark and I had our first fight last night.

I was going through an existential crisis because earlier in the day is when Rege told me he never saw me as dating material (see previous post), and that caused me to re-evaluate my status with the Doc. Every now and then we have this discussion, so it was time to check in again anyway.

Except, this time, I probably went about it the wrong way... pushed too many buttons, backed him into a corner.

He gave me the same answer as always: You're great... but I still stand by what I've been saying... I need to be single... If you want to move on, I'll understand.

I should've expected this because he never offered me anything different. I'd always feel pangs of hurt and contemplate ending things right then and there, but the desire and need to have him in my life always weighed more than the alternative. He'd be patient with me on the phone--letting me struggle in silence for a bit, talk it out. But we'd always return to the friends/lovers/talk-to-each-other-everyday relationship limbo, and I would push my pain and my hesitation aside until the next time.

Last night, though, I was in no mood to let it slide. I kind of took the role of a victim (which I never do). After that horrid conversation with Rege (whom I don't really have feelings for anymore, but it never feels like winning the lottery when someone says stuff like that to you) and now this with Dr. Shark, I was feeling down in the dumps and sad beyond words.

Maybe he was having a bad day too, or maybe he felt shocked to learn that I still talked to the likes of Rege, but whatever it was, Dr. Shark pushed me right back. He said: I'm walking away.

--swirlyswirlswirls of feelings--
I'm not sure what or how I felt. I had to put on a face because I was meeting my parents for dinner, but it was hard to do through the tears that just wouldn't stop leaking out of my eyes (my haggardly look I blamed on jet lag and exhaustion to them, which was partly true). To this moment, I still can't pinpoint the thoughts and emotions that raced through me when he said that. Panic? Relief? Heartbreak? Anger? Disappointment? Concession?--It's interesting that one person can feel so many things at the crack of an instance. If I had to use colors to describe this phenomenon, I might use tie-dye as an example: So many colors swirling around together with no beginning, no end, no order, no real distinction.

While I sat there trying to swallow the food my mom so selflessly made for my visit, which unfortunately felt like lumps of ash in my mouth, he texted an apology: "I got upset. I'm sorry."

So we're made up, temporarily. I won't get to see him at all until at least next week (another point for my aggression towards him), and if we have anymore heated conversations over the phone or text I'm going to punt a baby, so I'm going to try to control my emotions the best I can. He might not deserve that, but like I said... I don't want to lose him yet, and certainly not in this way.

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