So I got myself all pumped to work 60 hours this week and right before I was supposed to wake up this morning, work called and cancelled me. Meaning they didn’t need me enough to pay me time and a half plus $10 an hour to work today.

So much for my awesome paycheck.

O is on his way to town. We had a nice talk last night, one that was honest and a little sad because I don’t think he realizes how much my feelings toward him have changed. How I’ll never trust him and my eyes won’t sparkle when I look at him anymore. How my heart once felt too big for my body but now feels like a big empty space.

He’s asked me to call off and spend all day with him on Sunday. He said he wants to celebrate my birthday early with me and said that Saturday he’s going to spend the day trying to find me something nice and shiny because he wants to take his time and find something perfect.

I don’t know how I’m going to react to all this, and I don’t know how I’m going to deal with it, but I’m supposed to meed him at 5 pm tonight for dinner and a drink. And he asked me to stay with him tonight so I’m taking my work clothes with me. I know I said I wanted to look at him and tell him he can’t have me, that he’s ruined everything and that this isn’t enough for me… but I can’t.

I’m weak. I miss him, well, the him I thought he was. I don’t know how I’m going to deal with this man that I don’t really know, but I can’t not go. I have to or I’ll regret it.

Wish me luck.

The resolution of a relationship should not be clinging to said relationship and accepting whatever piece of the person you’re now able to get. But that seems to be exactly what I need to do in order to make sure I’m not going to lose my mind.

Throughout the past few weeks I have kept coming back to the whole idea of ‘there has to be a middle ground’. It’s something that I’m sure my friends are sick of hashing out with me, but something that is generally accepted. When my best friend, who is not exactly the most pro-relationship girl you’ll ever meet, told me I shouldn’t let it go, I thought that maybe, just maybe there was a possibility that if I remained calm and rational, the little friendly things O and I have been saying to one another could work themselves into a sort-of anti-relationship relationship.

This became my goal for the evening. And it wasn’t all that hard to achieve.

O and I pretty much kept in contact all day yesterday. And not all dirty texts and not all hashing out the details texts, but just friendly ha ha, how was dinner?, blah blah kind of things. The past two nights when I went out, he’s told me he’s worried about me, that he didn’t want me to go home with the Magician. That he’s tired and he needs to stop traveling.

When it hit midnight, and he told me how much he wished I was in bed with him, how he sleeps so much better when he can feel me near him, blah blah blah. I used this as my way in, and told him that I wished we had talked about this whole thing before he just up and peaced out.

All I need to know is he cares about me. I don’t need promises because I know I’m not going to get them, and I am not going to put my life on hold for him. But I need to know he cares, I still mean something from him, and that he’ll see me when he can. That what we have did and does mean something, and that just knowing him is enough for me. That we don’t have to be together, but that we both know we’re not totally apart.

His response was classicly O: You silly woman. That’s exactly what I’ve been telling you for the past 24 hours.

Which is true. It just wasn’t spelled out in a neat little definitive statement. Which I needed.

When we were in Newport, I bought myself a few little things. Two glass jars. A little tin box. And I handcarved wooden jewelry box that was imported from India. O pointed out that everything I bought was something to put stuff in. Then he asked me what would Freud say?

I need things to be defined. And, while we’re defining it by not defining it, I know that man still cares. But I can’t count on that to be my happiness because he can’t give it to me forever. So, he’s not my boyfriend. But he is important to me. And I can’t let it go.

I know it’s unhealthy, and perhaps I’ll regret it. But I can’t shake it.

There’s a Sex and the City when Carrie starts being friends with Big. I don’t remember what season it was, I think it was when she was with Aidan the second time around and they were at the cabin and Carrie left to go have dinner in the city with Big. I remember Miranda giving Carrie a hard time about it, and I remember Carrie saying something about how she and Big have a connection, that it’s enough for her to know there’s a man out in the world somewhere who she’s connected to.

I guess that’s how it has to be for me for now. Until I meet someone else. Which is probably right when he’ll decide he wants it to be different.

Love does not, as promised, conquer all. But it ebbs and flows. And it’s never what you think it will be. And I’m not going to say that I’ve given up on him loving me one day, because of course I haven’t. But I know I’ll be ok if he never does.

In every break up, there’s the one who saw it coming (and typically did the deed), and the one left in the fog.

I am the one in the fog.

When the Corporal and I broke up, I was not in the fog. I remember him calling and crying and I remember telling him that I couldn’t be the one to help him through it.

Now, I’m the one who’s struggling to deal with all that has happened in the past 5 months by trying not to lean too much on O.

He’s back, in a way. I mean, we’re in contact on a regular basis again. Texting and emails every other day or so. Which admittedly is dangerous territory, but it seems to be working all right thus far. After an evening of deciding if it would be a smart idea for me to drive back out to Cincinnati tonight or for him to drive here tomorrow to spend the day together, it was decided that seeing each other right now would probably be a bad idea, considering, well, the dirty nature of the late night texts and, really, how good would sex be for my mental health? Answer: Not good at all.

He is going to be in town within the next two weeks and we’re planning to have dinner and coffee. Which may not be a good idea either, but I don’t care.

I finally accepted it. I stopped trying to convince myself it was a phase, that he’ll miss me too much and come back, that he’s my Mr. Big (ok… I haven’t really stopped thinking he’s my Big). And I finally let myself open to the fact that the feelings he had were real.

We just chatted for an hour, and he told me this: I know one day, I’m going to look back at this and think “O - you dick”.

To which I responded: Yes, you will. And please let me know when that happens so I can say “I told you so”.

I don’t know if it’s healthy to want someone to stay in my life once he’s ended what was the best relationship I’ve had in years. But I don’t care. I wish I could sit here and tell you all that he’s an asshole and an awful human being.

But he’s not.

He’s my friend. And I can’t let him go completely.

Its amazing how the words “I” “Love” “You” and “Fucking”, when said in various sequences, can say two different things, which are pretty much the total opposite of one another.

Seriously, my life could inspire a movie. I’m not sure what the ending would be, obviously, but when that part does play out, all the rest of this shit will make sense.

After not hearing from the Magician since December, we have our little run in last night and we’ve just been texting back and forth for about 3 hours.

I don’t fucking get it. I just don’t get it.