Moving on?

I'd like to pretend I've moved on, but the angst-ridden draft in my g-mail account, which I sent 3 times and hit "undo" 3 times (google has a new feature that lets you undo any send for up to 5 seconds after you've sent it), well, I haven't moved one. I almost sent it. I wish he'd read it on my blog and reply because it feels like such a taboo to contact him. Here's what I almost sent:

They're good photos.

I hope you're doing OK.

I miss you in the marrow of my bones, and I realize I have no sense of who
you really are. The man I thought I knew wouldn't have hurt me so
casually. But I know you got clobbered--everything all at once. And I
don't think you had any clue how badly I've been hurting or you would have tried
to cauterize. It was my fault too--my fear of friendship with you was well-
grounded. I knew I might get hurt, and I thought it was worth risking
that. I shouldn't have risked what I couldn't afford.

You promised once, as we were walking, on the North-East corner of the
lake, that if you were ever clear about us not working, you would tell me and
not just disappear.

Tell me. Please. I need to hear it. Silence isn't kindness. I'm not moving on. I know you aren't holding on to me. It is all my fault, and I'm so stupid. Tell me that it will
never work, and why, and help me find a bit of peace and closure and wish you
all the best and move on.

So as I was writing this, biting on a pillow to keep from disturbing my dad in the next room, the guy I might be seeing called me, and I put on my fake happy voice and we talked for half an hour.

What the hell is wrong with me? This guy is a decade younger than me, but incredibly mature for his age. He is sweet. He wants to get married (not to me, yet--he isn't insane--but he's open and wanting that sort of commitment). We are both writing novels. He'd like to write one together--whatever my idea is--he's in. And he adores me. He calls me every night and text messages me during the day. And I had nothing to say to him. A mile wide and an inch deep.

If John and I were friends, he'd be the person I'd be talking to about my dad's cancer, and my fear about my dad's cancer, and what is going on living with my dad and all the shit that is so personal and vulnerable. The substance would be there.

Not that I can compare the 20-something (let's call him Will)--it isn't fair. I've known Will for a couple of weeks. How could I compare him to John? How could I compare anyone to John? How the hell can I move on, when I keep comparing men to John?

And maybe I am looking for a man who is emotionally unavailable. Sometimes I think John disappeared because we were getting close and it scared him. I've gone over and over what I did wrong, and I don't think I did anything wrong. It feels like he manufactured a couple of silly fights to push me away, and when it didn't work, he disappeared.

I'm trying not to repeat my pattern of getting bored with a nice man who likes me. But I certainly haven't stopped dating other men. When he said he was pulling his profile off of OKcupid, I was like "why?" I went out with another guy on Sunday and am seeing a third guy on Thursday and phoning a fourth guy tomorrow. I play hard to get so well when I'm not as interested. Why can't I let go of John and focus on Will. Who will like me? Who will show up? Who won't immediately disappear. Who will follow me around? And will hang on my words and won't challenge me or disappoint me? I want challenge, but maybe I need to let go of that. A partner who can match me may be too much to ask for.