We ended it on the phone last night. I am not the "other woman" anymore. I am doing what is right. It was a very very selfish thing - I feel bad for his wife. Good that it is over... well... morally... but emotionally I am on the edge and my pain is a secret from
RL, just like the affair was. I still care for him deeply. I woke up this morning
numb - my face could hardly make an expression - it was kind of strange. It felt terrible. I guess since I am not using
alcohol to drown pain anymore the other physical side-effects of breaking up are more apparent. I don't want to go back to drinking however...no point to it, makes the suffering less acute and hence more normal-feeling.
I took my first sick day from work... and read Bukowski all day. Maybe I just miss having an older man in my life who writes beautifully like my secret ex did. Bukowski is like him but more edgy and shocking. He defies convention more. In fact, after reading 60+ of his poems, I started fantasizing about and falling for him... but then remembered his hot temper and alcoholism... and the fantasies dissappeared immediately... Yes, I know he is dead, but I suspect many women fantasize about writers. It must be common.
I drove around and did some practical things like finding boxes and getting cash for the movers (I'm moving out of my rip-off roommate's place on Saturday).
In the street, a man's eyes followed me for a long time and he appreciatively said "Wow"... I am a 5'9 fit blond (I am not beautiful but my silhouette is ok)- people often assume that I have this great love life - but they could not be more wrong. I wondered if the man would believe how incredibly lonely I am. How I have had no visitor to my bedroom in years...
Then... the one man I spent sweet hotel-nights with after two years of celibacy was 17-years older, married and concerned that I was falling for him too quickly. He would often ask me to cool my heart. How did it get this way? It is absurd. My University boyfriend loved me so strongly... and I returned it in kind. I thought I would always have that passion in my life... but it's gone... and all affections now are tepid or illusory. A note to people under 27 - enjoy it while it lasts.* Also... never, ever date a married person. I feel very guilty for what I have done.
Moving on... Bukowski says in "Final Story"**
the price of creation
is never
too high.
the price of living
with other people
always
is.
He may be right. So... I am focusing on my mba studies and my (handwritten) journal. I am also thinking of starting a website where guests can post ideas about various marketing/design/strategy issues. I have a little network of designers, artists, marketers and mba classmates so it might be interesting... Moving forward is much better than longing for the past. Creativity is just a different kind of passion after all... I hope. It is supplying my own light in a world of darkness as old Chinese proverb says. Plus... no one gets broken hearted.
*As a disclaimer, this is just my experience, not a proper sample size to make generalizations from.
**pg 137 of paperback You get So Alone At Times That it Just Makes Sense, 1986 Harper Collins.