Continued Trivialities

Reading postsecret, I realized--John is the only one I've told all my secrets too. No one else in my life knows the big ones.

He wanted to love me. He really did. He gave it time. He tried. "I'd be blind not to see the potential between us," he said. But it was only ever potential.

Its so funny in a sad, ha ha sort of not at all funny way. He's the only man I ever had the courage to tell that my biggest fear, deep down, is that I'm just not lovable. And when I told him that, he responded with kindness and said it wasn't true. And then confirmed it more than any man ever could have. He wanted to love me, but he couldn't figure out how to make it 'soup.' All the ingredients. He thought. I'm just missing something. And so, deep down, more than ever, I believe there is something wrong with me. My fear was right.

I can tell part of me wants to have a big fight with him, just to have resolution. (He is going through his own hell right now--nothing to do with me and nothing I can do but support him as a friend, but it means I can't confront him on any of it, because this really is a horrible time for him.) But, honestly I couldn't actually stand having an unresolved fight with him. It would feel cleaner for a month. But my goal here was no regrets in a year, and I can't manufacture a fight just to have closure and not regret it in the long run. It is far better to try and find a way to let him go with kindness and care. I don't know how, though.

I really did love him. Thankfully, I can still say I've never been in love with anyone. And yet, I have profound regrets about that statement as well. And the rest of the male species isn't really helping me in letting John go.

Someone actually wrote me: "Strategically speaking, what is the most direct way towards intercourse with you." Another man wrote me "I'm wealthy and well-endowed." Does he think I'm a prostitute or a nymphomaniac, or both? And then, I ended up on a date with a 9-11 conspiracy theorist who called me intellectually insular, patriarchal (because of my need for so-called 'facts'), and an apologist for the Bush Administration. Meanwhile, he blamed The Nation for hiring William Kristol (because The New York Times and the Nation are practically the same) and wanted me to take his argument seriously.

If you saw my last un-published blog entry, all about how I don't get angry at people I love, but I viscerally hate Bush, in a way I find unhealthy and a little scary, and maybe if I knew how to get angry at people like John, I might be a little less angry at Bush and all, you might understand how being called an apologist for the Bush administration enraged me. I was never allowed to be angry growing up. It was considered an immature emotion. And even when I get angry at John, like I did last week, I'm only ever able to stay angry for a day or two and then it just moves to hurt and pain and regret and sadness. But I can be angry at Mr. 9-11 Conspiracy theorist. It is so funny, I could feel all my hope in him sinking the second he started saying something about how Bush/Cheney planned 9-11, and I'm like "Don't jump to conclusions--maybe this one's different." But they're all assholes. The 9-11 Conspiracy types and the Ayn-Rand, and the Dittoheads. Different political views, but same assholish behavior. (Can you believe someone who went to C-Pac tried to pick me up last week, and I was just like, sorry--this isn't happening.) If I could just get rid of my standards, there are plenty of men trying to get in my pants.

The only prospects, right now, are a guy who lives 400 miles a way and a guy who lives 1500 miles away, and I'm actually thinking of a fling with the 1500 miles away guy, just to get over John. I have a vacation coming up. He lives someplace warm. I've never done anything like that in my entire life. It is so not me. But it seems the only way I can think of to get John out of my system. Honestly, I probably won't. It is just an idea to play with. But I wonder what life would be like for the woman who would actually go through with something like that.