Une parenthèse après la course

        I did my crying yesterday, in intermittent streams, trying to hold it all in, to master my emotions and control them and put on my brave face. In the morning I went to the bakery as usual and bought a brioche and a pain au chocolat which I gave to the FWB before he left for the bateau mouche, trying to act as normal as possible though I am sure my fatigue showed in my eyes. I hadn't cried myself to sleep, had restrained myself, didn't have billowing eyelids.

        I told FWB to let me know about lunch with his parents so I could pay them my respects.

        At 13h30 I'd run my errands in the morning and heard nothing, so I said fuck it and ate leftover pasta, a yogurt, and an apple. Then I was online and had an offer to grab a coffee with an expat friend from my running group who moved for his job, so I took him up on it. I needed to be around people.

        I made my way to the metro under the snow and once underground, eyes watering between strains of deliberately upbeat music, received a text message letting me know that FWB was sorry, but he and his family had quickly eaten something after leaving a museum.

         ¨I thought so,¨ I replied. ¨Not to worry. I'm out grabbing coffee with a friend and then I have an apéro and dinner with a girl friend. I left you a message. Can you leave the keys in the mailbox?¨

         ¨Ok perfect.¨

         It was probably for the best not to see his parents, but I was pissed nonetheless. I'm not an idiot. I can see right through the bullshit. I didn't count on seeing him before he left. Probably, again, for the best.

* * *

          At coffee that afternoon friend and I were talking about life in general, lots of different questions about life choices. I am convinced that when the student is reader the teacher appears. I was lucky to count him amongst two teachers that afternoon. 

          His main point was this: life is too short to put off tomorrow what you can do today, whatever it may be. And that now is the time to live life to the fullest. 

          I suppose, as lots of people have put it now, I can be very selfish about any and all decisions I make now in 2013. I don't have to take a relationship into account. 

*  *  * 

        One thing I have learned this past fall, from Monsieur Lawyer and the FWB, is this: the status of a relationship depends mostly on the guy. No matter what the girl wants. If she wants just to have fun and he wants just fun, perfect. If she wants to be serious and he wants and is, mostly importantly, in a place and time in his life where he can be and wants to be serious, it will work. If she wants to be serious and he is neither in a time or place in his life where he can be and does therefore consequently not want to be, it will NOT WORK. 

         If the guy is not in agreement with the ¨status¨ of the relationship, he will NOT EFFING DO WHAT IS NECESSARY to make the damn thing work. A man will not give a shit, no matter how much he likes a girl. His career, his income, and his life come first. 

         Lesson learned. Lesson really learned from the girl who always thought that if someone really wanted to make something work, they'd make it work, no questions asked. As my Dad used to say to me when I was little: ¨If you don't have time, you MAKE time.¨

          But not everyone wants to make time. FWB included. 

*  *  * 

          After coffee, instead of heading straight to Bastille to window shop and meet R for apéro and dinner, I went home to warm up. The snow was only falling stronger and with an already cold heart, I did not need an even colder body. I went home and fell asleep on my foldout Ikea couch-bed with a small stream of tears wetting my crown. I set my alarm for 17h30 so I could leave to meet R at Bastille at 18h. I had planned to leave before FWB as he said he'd leave my place at 18h. 

           But life is a shitshow, so right as I woke up with eyes a combination of whites gone red and irises gone bright blue,  the FWB came back to get his affairs, so I ended up running into him. I kept my back to him and quickly cleaned my face.

           ¨Tu t'es fait jolie,¨ he said. Not a good moment to tell me I'm beautiful, bucko. I wanted to slap him. Instead I spoke in a low voice and remained very quiet. 

            I told him I was soon leaving. He was too. We needed to take the same métro. So we headed out with me walking ahead of him very silently and avoiding his gaze on the métro until I got to Bastille, again holding back everything the entire ride. Then I bise'd him goodbye, left the train, and didn't look back. 

             I burst into tears underground and kept crying until I met R at Café des Phares. 

*  *  * 

             Another thing I have learned is this: I am sick and tired of men just letting me slip away. I wonder how many of them regret letting me get away, if any. If they ever think about it. 

             I don't know. 

             What I do know is that instead of thinking that they let me get away, I should think of it as good riddance for myself. I am not the one they LET get away, I am the one they saved from an unfortunately relationship by letting me leave. 

*  *  * 

              At the Café des Phares, R and I sipped Sancerre and talked life. I needed alkie. She gave me big hugs, which I also needed, and we let it all out. 

             Then we went to Breakfast in America and had cheeseburgers and brownies. American comfort food at its finest. 

              I went home and cried some more. But it's all out now. I am empty, purged. Catharsis. 

             This morning I had to depuff my eyelids with a combination of cold spoons, cold washcloths, and cold teabags but it worked. 

              I wish FWB nothing but the best. I hope he succeeds. I am, however, upset and angry at his behavior and his treatment of me: why invite me for Christmas and spend this time with me if he knew it wasn't sustainable for him? Did he know he wouldn't want to make the effort later on? I was willing to make the effort. I was prepared at the beginning of December for him not to, then he did a fake play, made me think he was, and now have it all come crashing down.

               For my sake I wish he hadn't.

               I can't tell if he was aware of this all and deliberately did what he did or if he truly didn't know  what he wanted this to be or to become, tried to see where it would go, then figured out he couldn't make the commitment. I find it hard to believe he was not attached at all.

                I am not going to attempt to answer any of those questions, it will only drive me mad. The key phrase of 2013 so far is ¨Who the HELL knows?¨

                Not me.

               I'll still be writing, believe me, but I'm not quite ready to see other people yet. It might be a little while, for my own sake.

                Une parenthèse après la course.