Let Me Start This Year With Some Closure.

We met through mutual friends.

It started off rather salaciously and scandalous and slowly became more. I fought it, denied it, tried to ignore and reject it, but yeah, I developed feelings for him. Sue me.

So I let go, went with the flow and all that jazz. The L word was dropped (by HIM in fact). Breakfast was made. During a particularly rough point this summer, I freakin CRIED in front of him and I NEVER cry in front of ANYONE. EVER. And he was there to just quietly hold me and just let me and it was good. So good, in fact, that I never blogged about him or our relationship or anything. I didn't want anything to jinx it.

I thought to myself: He's not really anything from my "list" but he's good people and he's good to me and we have similar goals for the future and he was being an awesome cheerleader for The Jaded Empire. Dude, he complimented my writing and meant it. That's an INSTANT win for him.

I in turn was being all domestic and girlfriendy and starting to be okay with that role, that "traditional" role with which modern women aren't supposed to be okay. Not different; still Jaded, but the kind of Jaded that's beginning to act and feel like her grandmother before her, a woman raised in a time where men were men and women held them down.

Then, well, I'm not sure where and when it imploded. A week went by without any communications, and then another followed. When I finally reached out to see what was going on, I got the cold shoulder. It was like a slap in the face. I won't lie and romanticize it all: in the back of my mind there were still a lot of things that made me hold back from him. Things I'd rather not put out on Front Street, but little gnawings that just made me reticent about a full-blown anything. Our quiet little existence was enough for the time being. At least for me.

Then came the slap (not an actual slap; please don't get crunk in the comments). I should be used to it by now, right? Right. But it took me by surprise a bit. He really had me fooled, FOOL being the operative word here.



Things ended in September and I'm now ready to say, "Okay. This happened and it was good and then it wasn't, but that's life and I won't dwell over something I cannot control. He did what he did for whatever reasons he had, and I will just continue to live my life as planned." As in, the walls are back up, moat refilled with vicious piranhas, armed guards in place and heart placed gently back in the vault.



*smooches...battered but not broken*
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I come from good stock; it takes more than that to really break me.