Heartbreak

Breaking a heart is one of the hardest things to do.  Especially when you still love that person.

Ugh.  What a night.

So "Laughter" is off and running and the show is going splendidly, and opening night brings both my dear ex-girlfriend Nancy and my dear ex-girlfriend Rachel.  I was really sad that I did not remember that Nancy was coming tonight — though she did tell me…it was my fault — because I really wanted to hang out with her.  It’s ok, anyway, since she brought her boyfriend and Tyler. 

As for Rachel…woof.  She and I were going to spend the night hanging out and so we began on the right foot, coming back to my apartment and talking and catching up.  Then came the time to decide what the rest of the night would entail and I offered her the choice of what to do and she didn’t decide on anything.  So we sat and chatted off and on, sometimes the silence becoming beyond awkward into strained doom…and finally, at my pressing, I offered her some options of things to do and she offered to get drunk.

I wasn’t really up for it, so I tried to discourage her…and her next response was: the only two things on my mind are sex and alcohol.  I responded: Well, I suppose we can drink, then.

That was the snap moment, that moment where you can tangibly feel the world suddenly shift into an entirely different mood and you know the thing you just said might have been the worst thing ever…like a stroke of death.  I had struck her pride and her sense of attractiveness and her love for me down…and it wasn’t even with anything harsh…it was just me pointing out the obvious…that I had a girlfriend and nothing would jeopardize what I have.

The point of this story is not to talk about what happened…but the thoughts running through my head for the last three hours since the silence became drawn to ten minute lengths (which seemed like hours) and then she decided to go home at midnight — a drive of almost 2 hours.  I tried to get her to stop, but she wouldn’t take "no" for an answer.  And when we hugged goodbye, it lasted long enough for me to know she didn’t want to let go. 

In a way, neither did I.  Rachel has always struck me as one of those wonderful, beautiful, amazing women that I can’t shake from my mind.  Other girls here and there have caught fancy in my eye, but not many have had such a lasting impression of beauty, an ability to always look good no matter what light they’re in or what outfit.  They scream sensual passion and they scream divinity.  Kate is another one.  I’m not sure she’ll read this, but even if she does she probably won’t buy into a single compliment I pay her here, she just isn’t that way

Tonight, I realized I still love Rachel…in an intimate way…in a deep way….in the same way I love Kate.  I’m not ashamed of it.  Not one bit.  I have enough of a mind and a sense of control to not step over the boundaries the world has set up.  I play fair.  My world is not the only world and my way is not the only way.  I can’t go around sleeping with all the girls I feel a beautiful love with because I feel it’s all right for them to do the same with men.  But I think it’s ultimately sad to know that sometimes you’re probably not meant for one single person, but for many…and it just can’t be that way.  I think God has smiled on me.  He took the names of Kate and Rachel and I — other men I’m sure too — and jumbled them up and drew out which of us would be happy.  He decided it would be Kate and I.  I will never be quite perfect (who is?) because I’ll always know that there is someone out there whose heart I broke.  There are others.  Sarah Clare, Sarah Schaefer, Nancy…but at least Nancy has found another guy.  My opinion of him is up in the air, but she’s happy, and that’s good enough for me.

Perhaps I’m making myself into this epic (possibly tragic) hero by boasting that I may be the lover of a million beautiful women…but I think it has something to do with who is generally drawn to me.  I draw to me the broken ones, the damaged ones, the shattered pieces of women at times.  I say this all the time, but the only — before Kate this was the trend — women who were interested in me were the ones who had been jilted one too many times, had been abused verbally by a man or society, or those who just grew up believing the many lies that are told to young girls. 

Rachel was beautiful.  She still is.  One of the greatest song lyrics I have ever written has been about her.  Nancy, Sarah, they were all beautiful, all captivating in their own way.  None of them were perfect.  They were all still human, they did not float above me or anything, but I saw things in them that made them more amazing than the drudgery of people I see walk by with no radiance or vitality to their steps and words.  Roses in the wasteland is what they all are.

I hope all those who read this don’t think that this means I’m going to stop dating Kate.  My God, that would be the dumbest thing in the world.  She’s my favorite.  Line up all these beauties and you still have to choose which rose flourishes the most, which one doesn’t have worn edges, which has the right color, which completes the ensemble…;)…that’s Kate.  She’s not perfect either…not in any major flaw way…just that she tends to do what so many women do which is tell you how wrong you are about the way you see them.  They deny you your compliments and they deny that what you say about their beauty could ever be real…as if you were delusional.  I am not delusional.  I have the gift of seeing something in them they are unwilling or have been trained not to see.  I’m not boasting this gift either…we all have the same gift, we just only realize it when we see one of the diamonds who catches our eye and draws us back to it with desire.

I have to go to sleep now.  This was therapeutic.  I’ve been trying to reach Kate for an hour and a half, but she won’t answer either of her phones.  That’s why I came here.  I suppose this entry was a long time coming.