Friday, February 18, 2011

My Past with "Rockstar" (Part 4): Texts From A Stranger

Barbed wire heart

The first text came innocently enough, “Who is this?”  It came in from an unknown number and I was busy out with friends so I ignored it.
A couple of weeks had passed since Rockstar stood me up on Valentine’s Day.     I’d shaken off my Jack Daniels/Godiva bender and tried to put my feelings for him in the past.  I was a mess for the past couple of weeks, drowning in February’s darkness and throwing myself into my work.     
Finally, I told myself “Enough” and I ripped up the worn Counting Crows tour t-shirt that I slept in after he left at my house.  In all this time, I hadn’t washed it and I could very faintly smell his cologne on the collar.    
It felt freeing to take scissors to it and rip it.  I cut through the collar first and then ripped down through the fabric.  I made a dramatic yank to pull it wide open and it felt great!  
I then wrote his name on a piece of paper, said a silent prayer and a goodbye and burned it.   As I watched the paper burn and the smoke trail that it made, I faced that I had really had to let him go.    The harder reality was accepting that maybe I never really had him.  Sure we told each other that we loved each other, but people who love each other don’t do hurtful things.
It wasn’t as if he didn’t try to change my mind, because he tried practically everything.  He contacted me every day with apologies, lame explanations and promises to do better next time.  There were many unanswered emails and unreturned texts from him to me pleading for forgiveness. 
He wasn’t much of a telephone guy but was now leaving me voicemails.  I never listened to them, I’m sure they were just like his emails and texts.   He sent them at all hours of the day and night, I knew he wasn’t sleeping and was disturbed about hurting me.  He used emotional subject lines for his emails to get to me, referencing our happy ending, our song, missing my touch, etc.  He knew every heartstring I had because of knowing me for almost 5 years and he pulled every single one of them.  
He mentioned gifts he had given me, gifts he’d given my boys, he pulled out all the stops.   Of course he mentioned the night he held me while I bawled all night over my mom’s unexpected death when my whole body shook and he just held me tightly until I fell asleep.   I had to forget that now.
I was still sleeping in that same bed alone, the one we’d shared so many nights together.  His pillow was still empty and despite him saying he wanted to be a part of my life, he didn’t show up for his scripted grand entrance on Valentine’s Day. Limousine, white horse, Schwinn or Ford it didn’t fucking matter his ass wasn’t here that day and nothing could ever change that.   The day I watched the fluffy flakes accumulate into inches of snow, my resentment also grew.  The brick walls around my heart were strong and I added an extra layer of barbed wire just for good measure. 
My friends basically scheduled an intervention and forced me come out with them and shake off the sadness.   It took awhile to remove the funk, start laughing again and to feel like myself.   Once the Cabernet flowed and we passed around the pasta dishes, sampling everyone's dinners I felt like I was coming out of my shell a little.
My night with my friends ended on a celebratory note with all of us feeling happy and with me forgetting about my sadness.   The cold February night was a jolt to my senses.  When I got to my cold car to warm it up it was the first time in several hours that I looked at my phone.   I had forgotten about the text at the beginning of the night, blowing it off as a random mistake.   There were two new texts from the same unknown number.
The first text read,  “Hellooooo, I said who is this?”  
The second said “I asked you a question, who the f___ is this!”
By the time I got the last text, I was pissed.   I said something back sharply, like “Who is THIS - you’re texting me.  I’m sure you have the wrong number, so please stop.” 
The text back just said, “I have the right number.  I know all about you.”
Next time:  Who was this secret texter and could I believe her?
Smooches,

The Single Mom

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