Day Eight

April 11, 2006,

Dear Lunch Buddy,

I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up. Is it denial or hope? I hope it’s hope, but I’m afraid it’s denial. How long will you make me wait? If you gave me a definitive answer, would I believe it?

I got another e-mail from you, this morning. It picks up my whole day to hear from you. I know how very little you like to e-mail, so I know you are looking for e-mail from me. I know you were looking for me last night on EQ, as well, or else you would not have logged Pox on.

I think I know these things, anyway. I hope.

I spent the morning in front of the computer, hoping for more e-mails from you. Today was a helpdesk day, so I thought you might find time for more. You didn’t, but I’m hopeful that you were still thinking of me. I want to call you or e-mail you with all of these things I’m feeling. But if you’re doing what you say, trying to get some distance to figure things out, I know I won’t help by barraging you with my drama.

I had made plans to stay in my PJs all day and play EQ. I would have, too, but my sister called me. She was in town having taken the baby to a doctor’s appointment. She asked if I wanted her to stop by so she could see the apartment and so after I showed off the place, we went to that Oriental Buffet across the street. You’d like that place. Of course that was the first thing I thought of.

I’m terrified that you will find it too difficult to do what you know you should do, so you’ll go back to convincing yourself that everything is fine. And if I give you the distance you want, you’ll use it to put me behind you. Out of sight, out of mind. And I know how you can be. Once you’ve gotten to that place, I’ll be outside of you and unable to touch the heart you’ll bury underneath your grandiose ideals and naive promises.

I wish you could see this the way I do. How absolutely absurd that you could think of going through your life without me. I complete you. And you complete me. We are a team; partners; companions; soul mates. Who else will stroke your head when you are feeling down? Who else would let you feel down? Who will rub your back and read Harry Potter with you? Who else in the world would feel absolute joy in your existance?

I yelled at Roommate, tonight. I apologized later, but she made me so angry. She was talking about Asshole, again. How he’s doing better, and that she could see them together again, in their future. She actually said to me, "I’m not saying that I’m going to get back together with him. I’m just saying that I could see us dating again in the future." I got so angry with her. I punched the water cooler and yelled at her, "Don’t do that to yourself!" She laughed and I started raging, "you’re going to end up like Lunch Buddy! You’re going to settle for someone who treats you like shit because you don’t think you deserve anything better! Then one day you’ll meet the One, and you won’t be able to be together!" I was so furious, I slammed my door and locked it and sobbed in the shower for a while. After my shower I apologized to her, but told her that I meant everything I said. I told her that I wanted her to make a list of all of the things that Asshole could do for her that no other man could do. She told me that she couldn’t think of anything.

You have made me understand what love is. Love is calm and peaceful. It’s that sense of comfort that I feel when we’re together. That knowledge that everything will be fine, as long as we’re together. Nothing else matters. It’s knowing what you are capable of and expecting the best of you. It’s trust. It’s respect. It’s giving each other the benefit of the doubt because I know you would never hurt me on purpose and you know I would never hurt you. It’s making an effort. It’s thinking of your partner’s needs before thinking of your own. It’s listening and hearing and acting… in that order.

Roommate doesn’t understand that kind of love. She thinks love is just being with someone. She thinks if Asshole vacuums and loses a couple hundred pounds they’ll be in love. It drives me crazy.

When is this going to stop hurting? When I have a good day, I’m overcome by fear that that means I’m moving on without you. And if I can do that, I’m afraid you can, too. If I move on, is there any going back?

The other thought that terrifies me is what if it’s not that hard to move on? What if you never really loved me like I thought you did. What if I was just stupid? But I know better. I could see it in the way you look at me, and I could feel it in the way you put your head on me. You’ve told me so many times: I give you peace.

When I lit our candle tonight, the flame shrank away, and I watched it, horror stricken. When I thought it would flicker and die, it slowly grew stronger and began burning tall and bright and proud. I took it as a message from those who might want to comfort me. I prayed that you would leave yourself open to our love and not close yourself off like we both know you can do. I prayed that you would feel me and smell me and hear me and be filled up with me.

You can’t go on without me. You can’t go back to the box. Please, Lunch Buddy. Don’t go back in the box.

The candle that I burn for us just crackled and hissed. It’s 10:15 on Tuesday night. Does that have any significance? I wonder.

I love you so very much, Lunch Buddy. I dreamed about you, last night. I dreamed that we were getting married. I also dreamed about incense and some other things… all in bits and pieces. I fantasize all the time that you’re on your way over here, and that in a few minutes, you’ll be knocking on my door to tell me that you’re home to stay. Please come home, Lover.

I’m waiting with open arms,

P.S. Last night, when you logged off of EQ, you said "BTW Squeek squeek See you later =). I was hoping you meant that literally, so I didn’t get back on EQ, because I knew if you logged back in, then that fantasy was over.