One year ago today I logged in to Facebook and found a message from S, the first contact we’d had in ten years.
One year later, today, I haven’t talked with him in nearly a month, and it had been a month before that, and we are well on our way back out of each others’ lives. Like we always are. In and out, brief flashes of frenzy followed by years of nothing.
Honestly, I thought this time would be different. I think he did, too. But then I admitted that if I wanted to live I had to leave my marriage, and I became available, and that ruined the fantasy for him. Or something. In any case, that was the beginning of the end.
So today is the anniversary of one of two major heartbreaks I’ve undergone over the past year. And I’m doing my best not to confuse those heartbreaks with the feelings I’ve been developing over the new guy who has come into my life, though after five fantastic, comfortable, familiar, and building dates, it seems like maybe that’s drawing to a close as well. Of course, I could be getting ahead of myself or conflating everything, but the memory of the two previous abandonments, S and my ex, have my reflexes primed for rejection and pain. Any and everything that I let myself feel is another step toward an inevitable ending, or so it seems.
Anyway, I hope I’m getting ahead of myself.