~Wednesday, August 31, 2005

Anxiety and a cup 'o spaz

I've been having chest pains all day in anticipation of his response to my love letter. The later it gets, the more severe my chest pains are. My mother, who normally dismisses all medical ailments and injuries, is very worried about me, which, in turn, makes my chest pains hurt more.

I've had some aspirin and a beer. I've been praying all night that he doesn't call. I don't want him to. If he does, he's just going to reject my letter and reject me again and I can't take that right now. That letter was my heart and soul and I can't take it being thrown back at me.

I'm lying in a dark room with my beer, distracted only by TV. My mother says I'm falling apart and suggested some counseling. I didn't throw that idea away like I threw the self-help books down the stairs that she checked out for me from the library.

~Tuesday, August 30, 2005


I reread the love letter after our conversation. I feel really stupid for sending it, he's just going to laugh at it.

Harsh things he said that I need to remember so I can get over him easier:

  1. I've done some things that I haven't done in the past couple of weeks, like have fun.
  2. You hurt me, congratulations.
  3. Since I've removed myself from the situation, I've had a great time.
  4. I'm tired of having bad moods and I blame them all on you.
  5. (When talking about taking care of him when he's sick) That's what my mother is for.

I have a little more closure now. This isn't the person I loved, and I don't love this person.

The phone call, part II

He called again last night. I made small talk for awhile and told him everything I saw, heard, and tasted that I normally would tell him if we were still together. After a long pause, in which I was giving him time to contribute to the conversation, he asked what I wanted to say to him. This time he didn't sound very soft, just annoyed.

I said again that I wanted to have that conversation in person. We never fight when we see each other, only on the phone. I figured if he was in front of me he couldn't behave this way, and if he did, I'd have to see it with my own 2 eyes. Instead of telling him this, I told him that I sent him a letter. I didn't want to say what was in it because I wanted the letter to be fresh to him. I worked really hard on it and I think it was one of my best ones.

We spoke for about an hour and a half and he ended it with saying that he would call me again after he gets the letter. That's a good sign, that he cares about the contents. The conversation went with me cooing and saying these really wonderful things and him just listening. He didn't shoot back at me very often, although he did try to get some blows in. I never got angry with what he said; I never let it bother me. I think he liked hearing me say those things. We've never been open or mushy with each other, so he was hearing these things for the first time. I hope that some of the positive things I said to him will sit with him the next couple of days, just like the negative things he said to me will stick with me.

~Monday, August 29, 2005

The phone call

Today I'm watching Felicity and there's a lot of letter writing. (I spent the weekend watching the Godfather Trilogy and saw enough killing for awhile.) Letter writing seems to be working. The get-back-together M.O. on Felicity is showing up unexpectedly, letting that sink in for a few days, then sending the letter. Deliver it personally and write it on paper to make it tangible, that way he can read it over and over while thinking of you.

I sit on my bed and preface the letter with stupid sayings probably from "Men are From Mars, Women are from Venus." I fucking hate that book. It's just a man telling how men are, and how women need to follow these lame-ass man rules. I want to punch that guy in the face if I ever meet him.

Then he calls. I shit you not. I could barely pick up the phone. I made sure not to sound desperate, sitting on my bed, and writing him some psychologically spewed letter. He said he owed me an explanation for the last week. He said that I'm mean and that the last joke I made was the straw that broke the camel's back. His other example: I once asked him how long he had been golfing. He said since he was 5. I then asked how come he didn't play more like Tiger Woods. I'm sorry but I still think that's funny! Tiger Woods is clearly the exception to young golfers! Come on! Everyone should know it was a joke! So based off of these 2 comments I am mean. He then said that his parents have noticed that he's tense when I'm around and that this makes him think he's not happy in our relationship. I wanted to say that being tense when you're with your girlfriend and your parents is a natural feeling. It makes me half-crazy when I have to do it. But I didn't say anything. I said I wanted to have this conversation in person. He asked why, and I said that we'd been together for a year and I had lots of things I wanted to say as well. His voice softened and he asked what. I wouldn't tell him, partly because I couldn't articulate it very well on the spot. We sat in silence for a minute and he said a business call coming in and that he would call me later.

I hung up and bawled. Now I know he really does want to break up and that this isn't another silly fight. I sat in a tub way too hot (I guess my idea of cutting? Hot water?) and cried it out. Then a wrote a 4 page letter to him explaining the jokes and the parental paranoia, letting him know it was normal, and concluded with how much I loved him. I have never written him a love letter before, I've tried but I never really had anything to say before. Debated with putting my return address on it, included it, and drove to the post office and mail it. He should get it either tomorrow or Wednesday. We'll see if he calls tonight.

While writing the love letter, my mother barges in and we got to have this conversation:

Mother: (in falsetto voice) Dear Mark, I promise never to do it again. Please come back.
Sarah: That's not funny.
Mother: (addressing my dog sleeping at the foot of my bed) How do you tell the difference between us? (pause) I'm nice and Sarah's mean! (Laughing at her own joke.)
Sarah: This isn't helping. It was your idea to write a letter, now you mock me for it!

Haven't looked for a job since he left me, but I am beginning to realize it's the only way out of this house. Right now I'm thinking about throwing away my college degree becoming an airline stewardess.

~Sunday, August 28, 2005


I holed up for the entire weekend. My father wanted me to come to his house and I mumbled that I'd think about it with no intentions of actually going. He's never been fatherly and I wasn't feeling sociable.

My mother tried to get me to go shopping on Saturday, but succeeded only in getting me out of the house. I didn't want to buy anything because I have no money. Didn't want anything for an apartment I don't have, clothes for a job I don't have, nor shoes for dates I will never go on. My mother saw me mentally planning my demise and decided we can go back home where I promptly holed back up again.

I've been pretty angry all day. Being angry is pretty easy at this point. Being angry is actually easier than dealing with anything else. My mother came in my room and tried to talk to me, but I ignored her after she said that I must have given Mark a reason to go back to his ex, a theory I'm beginning to believe less and less. She said I have all this anger and that we don't know where it's stemming from, but I need to get it out. She told me to write a letter and tear it up if I don't want to send it, just to get some of these feelings out.

Even when Mark and I fought over the weekend, we'd always talk Sunday night. It was the night we'd make-up or simply ignore the previous week. It's been 3 weeks since I've seen him last: he's been making up flimsy excuses about why he couldn't see me each weekend and even though I moved closer, we still live too far apart to see each other during the week.

I will not call him tonight. I bet if I did he'd actually pick up the phone, but I will not call him tonight. If we've broken up (it's silly to say that I don't even know for sure,) then I better get used to not speaking to him on Sunday nights.

~Friday, August 26, 2005

Don't worry, I feel guilty about this too

I wish I never called him. I always forget that when I call him, I actually feel worse afterwards instead of better. I call him and my heart beats faster when the phone is ringing. I get a high. Then after 6 rings his voicemail picks up and I just emotionally crash. Now he knows I called and he doesn't want to talk to me. Now I know this too.

I used to date this Catholic named Conor and the same thing happened. We would have sex and the sex was okay, just okay but enough to feel good, and every time afterwards he'd roll over and say, "We shouldn't have done this, it's a sin." Crash. Every time. I should have been smart enough not to sleep with him once I knew this. He broke up with me the same way: he orgasms and rolls over, "We shouldn't have done this, it's a sin and we're just friends, right?"

Now that I had broken the lines of silence, I felt this urge that I shouldn't give up until I reached him. This morning I was thinking about showing up at his work. He's an outside sales rep and he travels to different cities each day and goes to their businesses. He always works the same city on Fridays. I would show up and wait in the parking lot at whatever business he was at, which would be found by me driving around the city and checking the lots for his car. The type if business he specializes in are always lumped on the same street so stalking value can be held at a minimum. The idea made me feel good. At one point this morning I actually smiled. It felt weird and I didn't know what was different until I realized it had been a really long time since I smiled. I felt strange smiling.

I figured any idea that could make me feel better was worth following through. I had purpose this morning. I got up, showered, got dressed, put on make-up and, heaven-forbid, perfume. I didn't cry once. I got in the car, thought of an excuse to be in the area, and drove an hour to the city.

Here's how it would work: I would be at his car when he came out of the building and he would look at me and I would smile and say, "Let's get some lunch." I would tell him how unfair he's been and he would tell me what's really bothering him. I would talk him through it and he would feel better. We wouldn't immediately get back together, but it would get the ball rolling.

I drove up and down that fucking street for an hour and a half and pulled into every fucking business and didn't see his fucking car once. I was worried that because he didn't go to that city last Friday, maybe he went on Monday and didn't need to go again this week. I hadn't spoken to him so I had no idea of his schedule. I didn't want to say, "Hey I'm here, let's meet for lunch," because if he chose not to respond, he might be on to me and change his schedule. If that happened then I couldn't perform this plan again, because this one was an obvious failure.

I settled for, "Hey I'm not far from you, let's do lunch." I sent it as a text message. This way, he wouldn't know that I was actually there. Finally, he finally responded that he was too busy. But I would bet any money that he wasn't even there yet when I was there. There was no way. Lazy Ass was probably not even working yet. This kinda relieves me should I try it again.

So I sobbed and drove home. And got stuck in Friday afternoon traffic. Serves me right. It takes me under an hour to get there, but an hour and forty to get home. I freaking deserved it. Fucking trip cost me $12 in gas. I'm sobbing and devastated. I get home and my mom knows I've been out because she can smell perfume. I tell her the story (in much less detail in between mumbles and sobs) and she begins to make fun of me.

Like the phone calls, like the sex with the Catholic, I feel worse now that I tried it and failed. I am glad, however, he even responded to my text. But I have cried it out of me and am resigned to the whole idea of contacting him.

Reverse psychology

Okay, okay. I called him one more time. I decided to leave him scary threatening-sounding "We need to talk" message. This was my thinking:

I spent hours convincing myself that I didn't want to be with him anymore. Why should I? I gave a year to this guy and we revolved around his rules and his family. If he didn't understand the fucking comment that "idiot" was simply a comparison to how good the idea was. I wasn't actually calling him an idiot. If he doesn't understand this and wants to give me this much grief over it- then forget him.

We always joked about the phrase "we need to talk" and I only used it once before. I know that phrase scares the hell out of him. If I called up and left the "we need to talk" message, than he's going to know I'm not happy and that perhaps I want out of the relationship. Knowing that, he might rethink things.

I called. It rang and voicemail picked up (shocker.) "Hey Mark, it's me. Listen (sigh), we need to talk. Call me back so we can arrange a time and place for this to occur. Bye."

Yeah, no response.

~Thursday, August 25, 2005

Broke all the rules today

I'm not stupid, I know what "I can't do this anymore" means. It's not, "I'm busy right now and I can't fight with you at the moment." It's "I'm breaking up with you over a fucking text message."

It's been two days with and no communication with Mark. I've been so completely devastated that I'm afraid to check my e-mail and find a Dear John letter. I have also given up the job hunt to wallow in this. My mother says the best part about the break-up is that I'm at home surrounded by my family and people that love me.

I miss my apartment.

I miss my apartment and my queen bed with satin sheets. My bedroom TV at the perfect angle to be seen comfortably from my bed. My 2 bedroom and 2 bath sanctuary in which no one could disturb me. My cable on demand that I once proposed to. My kitchen that housed foods I would actually eat, compared to the multi-multi-grain crap my mother buys. My solitude.

I find that watching extremely long movies and TV series on DVD help the most. These are long enough to make time pass at an acceptable rate. Otherwise it's every commercial break and I tear at the fact that everything I once had and loved is gone: my independence, my job, and my love. This is enough to send anyone into a spiral of depression.

I began watching the complete series of Felicity. I figured someone is always breaking up on that show so I wouldn't have to deal with people being in love for very long. But as always I began thinking Maybe I'll call him and act like I didn't understand what 'I can't take this anymore' means. If I diffuse the situation that way, maybe it won't be over.

I call. No response. Waited an hour. Called again. No response. Waited an hour. Before I knew it, I fell into this pattern. It gave me something to do. But calling 4 times in 1 day does not come off very well. Nor did he ever call me back.

Break-up still on.

~Wednesday, August 24, 2005

Lesson of the day

If your boyfriend breaks up with you, your mother won't make you eat salads. She will, however, make you drink water to replenish your tears.

~Tuesday, August 23, 2005

The text message that ended it all

Sarah: I know what I'm getting you for your birthday and if you don't love it, then you're an idiot :)
Mark: Why do you say things like that? It's mean.
Sarah: I wasn't saying it to be mean, I just meant that it's foolproof. Forgive me? That's why I also included the :). Please don't get mad over it.
Mark: It was uncalled for.
Sarah: I'm sorry. It was a bad choice of words. I would take it back if I could.
Mark: I can't do this anymore.


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