I hate to break it to you, but if you were looking for an ooey-gooey happy ending to go along with that jumbo bag of popcorn you bought; you might want to ask for a refund on your ticket. There is no romantic comedy here.
Unless it’s one of those romantic comedies where the heroine is this flustered bumbling mess whose overdramatic advances work only to repel men.
I’m not sure I’ve ever seen one like that though.
Maybe Ginnifer Goodwin’s character in He’s Just Not That Into You?
That’s right. I just compared myself to the needy chick in He’s Just Not That Into You.
Didn’t see that one coming, did you?
It’s possible I had a breakdown last night. It’s possible the waiting was killing me. It’s possible that I had myself convinced that I would hear from the ex last night. That there was no way he would just leave me hanging with no response. That he wasn’t that kind of guy. That at the very least he would let me know that he was still mulling everything over.
It’s possible I started crying at 9:30 pm when I still hadn’t heard from him.
Actually crying. Over a man. A man who I have promised myself on 100 occasions I wouldn’t cry over anymore.
And then I was mad. Mad at myself for letting this same situation continue to hurt me. Mad at him for continuing to pry his way into my life on the premise that he cares, but then pulling the same disappearing act over and over again when he can’t handle the heavy stuff.
Life is heavy sometimes. How does he not get that by now?
So then my armor went up and my multiple personalities kicked in; this was sheer defense mode here. I texted him that he should just forget about everything. That I shouldn’t have asked him. That I didn’t know what I was thinking. That I had chosen a donor and he was off the hook. Pressure was off.
When I didn’t hear back from him in 10 minutes, I started to feel guilty and question myself. What if he was just about to call me and tell me he wanted to do this?
So I called him.
And he didn’t answer.
The next logical move was to send him another one of my epic text messages.
I just wanted to say that I really am sorry. You’ve got a lot going on, and I shouldn’t have put all that on you. I just thought that maybe we could still have our happily ever after. That maybe we could be there for each other. It doesn’t even matter what I thought though. I’m sorry. But, next time you find yourself missing me and wanting to call or text to see how I am… please don’t. I don’t know if you have any idea how much harder you made this for me. I would love for us to at least be friends, but you can’t even tell me what you don’t want. Life is hard. I don’t want people in my life who make it harder. If you can’t tell me what you want from me, or at the very least what you don’t want, I really don’t want to hear from you again. It hurts too bad. I’m glad you’re coming home soon, and I hope you figure all your stuff out and that you and the kids have a great summer. I do care about you, and I hope everything works out for you. I’m sorry I went and complicated things with us enough to scare you away yet again.
Seriously? What is wrong with me? And is it officially OK to hate my iphone because it lets me get away with that kind of nonsense?
I heard on the radio this morning that the number one reason women pick fights is because they feel ignored. I can go ahead and take ownership of that one. You can tell me just about anything and I can deal with it pretty well, but if you ignore me? Well clearly I lose my mind. When I put myself out there like that and I get nothing back; it tears me apart.
I am usually pretty calm, cool, and collected. I typically have my emotions in check. I am the girl who is a rock star when it comes to protecting her heart.
So why (why God why?!?) do I become a dribbling mess when it comes to this man? Why do I set myself up like that again and again?
I blame romantic comedies. They have taught me that all you have to do is make yourself a little vulnerable and quirky to land your man. I have the quirky part down for sure, but clearly I go way overboard in attempting vulnerability.
I just… I got caught up in the idea of him swooping in and saving the day. I got blinded by this romantic notion of him coming in on his white horse, proclaiming his love for me, and us doing this all together. I let myself believe that we could be riding off into the sunset.
Instead, I’m pretty sure he may be joining the witness protection program.
I just don’t get it. Jennifer Lopez gets herself knocked up and then meets a gorgeous man who is totally on board with being her baby daddy after just a few weeks. Jennifer Aniston gets to have hottie best friend Jason Bateman switch her sperm sample all because he secretly loves her and can’t stand the idea of another man spawning her child.
I get to pine away after a guy who can’t even tell me that he doesn’t want me. Who can’t have a grown up conversation with me at all.
Who I am fairly sure has started to make a game out of how long it takes me to melt down and go all emotional train wreck crazy lady on him.
OK, not really. In fact, I’m pretty sure my emotional outbursts freak him out as much as they do me.
But still… Clearly I need new writers.
For my life.
So back to the drawing board ladies and gentleman. I am forcing myself to choose and buy a donor this week. I will keep my eye on the prize and my romantic aspirations to a minimum. I’m going to be like Kate Hudson in How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days or Sandra Bullock in The Proposal. Yes, when it comes to love, I do want to be that cold right now. Those ladies knew what they wanted (until men came in and ruined everything); I am going to be just like them. I am going to be strong and determined to get what I want (MY baby); romantic liaisons will be the last thing on my mind.
Or maybe I could just be like Drew Barrymore in 50 First Dates.
I wouldn't hate a little short term memory loss right now.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kk8eJh4i8Lo&feature=fvst
ADSPACE
