Writing fast, running back into another meeting in a few minutes.
Okay, so I’m not sure if he has the password or not. I can’t tell on my site stats who gets by it and who doesn’t. It just shows the hard link with the post number after it, but you can land on that page anyway if you click the title without knowing the password. The site just takes away the rest of the posts and puts you on a page with just a password box for the post you clicked a title for. So I see that he went in yesterday and was on the hard link, i.e. velvetindupont.com/p=853, but again, I don’t know if he was actually reading. There have been three coincidences where he said something the day after I posted about that very topic. But, I could just be panicking. Keep in mind, after those crazies I dealt with last spring (Mr. Banana Hammock and company) hacked into my computer and regurgitated shit out of my hard drive, I don’t put nothing past no one.
Ok. Where am I? Monday night was Sherlock’s drive by. Tuesday morning I got an email from him. It was long. Really long. Basically he wrote it as a letter to Thora, saying Happy Birthday to her (which is what freaked me out) but, then of course there’s a P.S. “Tell your mommy” section. I was most irritated at him using the dogs to try to get to me, but there were also some things mentioned in the email that really just upset me – namely his threatening to go on a date with someone this week and mentioning having been out with someone already. I wrote back short answer that said something like “Unbelievable you can’t keep it in your pants until you find out where we stand. Can I assume if you are dating other women that you will stop driving by my house as well?”
He wrote back another email yesterday afternoon, much much longer, and I was just leaving work when I saw it. I read it quickly, started to cry, snuck out of work, cried on the way home, read it again, then got ready to go take some STUPID media bistro class (People – never ever do their classes!) for three hours. In the cab I fired off a text because I was so upset. The text said something about “How could you send me an email like that. Thanks for making me cry for an hour today. You love yourself too much to love me.”
He called within a minute, but I was already in the class. I texted back that I couldn’t talk for 3 hours. He said to text when I was out – he was at a concert and put “alone” in parenthesis. I texted on my way home, he left his concert and walked home in the rain while talking to me. I really don’t know what to say about the conversation. It breaks my heart. The emails broke my heart already, but the conversation sucked as well. The emails, shit, I can’t even reprint what he wrote because it’s just so hurtful. And manipulative. Seriously manipulative. A psychaitrist’s field day. We are clearly in this mode where he thinks I was trying to hurt him on purpose, and he was therefore trying to hurt me back. I took a Klonopin before the call so I could try to stay calm, and of course I barely remember a lot of what was said for the two hours we spoke. But I do remember a couple of my main points. Awake and non-medicated, I’m surprised at how much logic my points seem to have.
I said that I wanted to be with a man who was “looking” for me. Meaning: I want a guy who is mature enough to not be just ratcheting numbers, not sleeping with anything (cough cough) that comes along. I said, (and I KEEP saying this to my therapist) that I want a guy like my brothers and my dad. Then, this is where I started crying, because there is something so genuine and admirable about the way my brothers and father treat women. I told him that my brother was on this dating hiatus when he met his wife. He was sick of wasting time and money on worthless women, decided he’d rather be alone than with someone not right. He went out one night on a whim, was incredibly rude to my sister-in-law, but then found her sneaking into the men’s bathroom at the bar because the ladies room line was too long, and he just knew he had to get to know her better. The story I have on video of him telling how they met is fucking hilarious. And that’s what I want – a guy who is waiting for me, not waiting for the least of all evils to happen by – which is what I think I was for him.
To me, being alone is fine. But I’m an “alone” kind of woman. His emails insinuated that he can’t be alone and therefore was going to keep looking for someone to make him happy. I suppose that I can somewhat understand this mentality, but having actively dated for three years now (blogging for half that time,) I can say that it gets tiring. Remember when I met Sherlock – I wasn’t looking for anything serious, and allegedly, neither was he. But all that changed.
He said near the end that he wanted to promise he wouldn’t call, but that he didn’t know if he was going to be able to keep that promise. I cried as I told him that I really and truly want him out of my life, that this has been too difficult and too painful for me to deal with, and despite the love, I just can’t go on like this. Then, I asked him to not call. I assume he’ll replace me relatively quickly. And the argument about there not being a lot of viable, good looking, single ladies is irrelevant. We’ve seen that he isn’t very discriminating as to who he wines, dines and beds.
I’m sick to my stomach. I woke up this morning wondering if I just let this whole relationship be a casualty of the blog, instead of the other way around. I wonder if I made the right decision – and you don’t have to confirm it for me, I’m wondering for myself, not from a third party perspective. Of course I get from your all’s view, this has been nothing short of a disaster. I wonder, well, I’m wondering a lot of things. But that’s where it stands. Or doesn’t stand anymore I guess.