09.13.05 - 1:49 a.m.

and somehow...SOMEHOW...theres STILL a part of me that thinks of him as how we were before.

And so it happened. The First Post Breakup Conversation.

I saw him, hearts beating...palms sweating, taking girl guidance from sweet alison.

and hes as cute as before.

and hes maybe getting better.

but there was something about him opening up a subway restaurant...but it wasnt a subway, it was something like a subway, only they sold rotisserie chickens.

and he was touching me.

touching me.

my arm, over and over again.

and all i could think of was making this part of me sexy...this arm...so that he would love me again. So that he would see everything that he was missing; all that he gave up.

and we both commented on how weird it was...to have the "Why Did We Break Up" conversation. And HE thought it was because i thought i wasnt getting any writing done, and my writing was suffering.

and for the first time, i think, i was able to say...no, it was the alcohol.

but in some way. Things were so easy. No one will understand that. But things were falling into place (que laughter, que shared memory, que characterisitics we sensed in each other before now coming true).

And i saw things in his face. Things i remembered like i remember my brothers face, like i remember the road to my childhood home. Disbelief, fear, insecurity. I saw all of these things in his dim, barlit face.

And hes still with the girl.

You remember, im sure, the girl that broke my heart. And, like lightning i remembered seeing for the first time together...RIGHT after we broke up, kissing, and i got too too drunk and laid down in my shower and threw up and cried until there was NOTHING else for me in the world and i cralwed to bed and woke up to another day, another day, another day, without HIM. Without everything in the world that he offered, without his hand on mine in the middle of the night. THat dismal point with me puking and fucking crying. Fuck.

And that was the only thing that i wanted to tell him.

You. Broke. Me.

but i didnt, because i have learned certain things in this world, and one of those things, is "Dont Show Your Hand." Dont show your hand to someone that hurt you. Dont give things away.

Keep the best parts of yourself...for yourself.

And i guess thats what i was really trying to do. Give him ALL of me. You can, i believe, give yourself all the way to someone, and thats...i guess...what i was trying to do.

and i told him things that i shouldnt have. Things that i only wanted to tell him, like:

1) that one time i was at marx, and that guy asked me out and i told him that i was really trying to re-focus on my writing after certain incidents in my life, and he...out of the blue...knew everything about me.

and the thing was...i wanted sal to know that, well, what did i want him to know.
a. i was desirable to other people.
b. we were a sort of...force...that people recognized.

and as it turns out, one of the first questions he asked me was:

"Are you writing more?"

and i said, yes, because i AM writing more than i was with him. And also i apologized, GODDAMMIT, for making him think that my NOT writing was his fault.

Well, but it really wasnt his fault.

I was the stage director in that relationship and he took his cues from me, and at that point, all i wanted was for him to love me. Just fucking make me feel worthwhile.

What i DID tell him, my girlfriends will be happy to hear, was that:

"It wasnt the writing, it was the alcohol."

and i was able to say it. And i dont know if i will ever be able to remedy his response, which was:

"I was making those changes all along, kate,"

and my biggest fear possibly confirmed: that i didnt give him time.

i cant tell yall. Things were so comfortable.

and this terrible part:

allers ended up getting in a fight with her boyfriend and was leaving because she has to teach in the morning, and i wanted to stay.

I wanted to stay, and talk with my boy.

This is terrible. This is not how i wanted to feel at ALL.

And i offered to walk her home (and, i can say, honestly, because at least i have enough decency to fully recognize that she is more important than he is) but i wanted to stay, and FEEL what he made me feel. Connected. Loved. Appreciated.

And then, the worst thing. As im talking to allers he pats me on the back and says... "Im getting ready to leave anyway."

and something about that. It was just like that.

Just like that.

Part of me thought that he would be willing to offer anything just to be able to have me back...and he didnt, he was ready to leave.

And then there is this part of me that wants to recount ALL of the other things that he said to me that makes me feel like he is still in love with me: "I really want to finish catching up with you..." and the touching. The goddamed touching, like it was in the beginning.

and he left before me. And he left.

His girlfriend ("who i actually met at bardeo") has her masters in some sort of social work or something and she works with terribly abused children. Jesus.

And he was so cute. Like i remembered.

And i couldnt help but reminisce.

There was his face, of course, that i knew like the back of my hand...making all of the same faces about DIFFERENT things than i was used to him making them for. It seemed impossible.

It ALL seemed impossible.

And i said it: "Its just really weird to see someone that you knew so well from this other point in time, talk about things from this point in time." To which he said, i know, but im sure he was baffled by my nonsensicalness per usual.

oh god. so much. theres just so much.

he finally got a cell phone that he was carrying around like dry cleaning...like something a bit unusual that you only have with you for this day and thus forget.

And god. God. Somehow, all i can feel is SAD that he didnt ask for my number. Jesus! What kind of bullshit is THAT?

and he didnt say that he wanted to see me again, and he didnt say that he missed me, and the hug that he offered in the beginning caught me so offguard that i didnt know what to do.

"I didnt even know you were here, and then i heard your voice."

and thats the thing...the voices, the looks, the intonation, ALL OF THAT, is stored FOREVER, indelieably. Forever.

And somehow, that seems to count for something...and in my head, i realize, it counts for too much.

Too much.

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