Bad times

I've known of sometime that Sporty and I are not a couple. It's been three years of hanging out, diners and movies, concerts and shopping. She gave me the security code to her house, we exchanged gifts, I've watched her dog, bought plane tickets for trips and season tickets to watch her sports plans take reality and listened to her talk of hopes, dreams and fears. But we were NOT a couple. I even said so myself when in a little fictionlized story of one of our dinners I wrote that I knew it would not be long before someone else came along and this little play set was no more. I knew this.

But when she actually spoke of somebody else yesterday as we were Instant Messaging, it felt like I'd been betrayed. I felt the blood drain out of my legs and wondered if this would be the beginning of another overly dramatic phase of acceptance of rejection. I have a history of that. A long bad, wait... actually horrible would be a better term, history of doing that.

I've also decided that Instant Messaging is probably the worst form of communication known to man. I now dislike it in a way that I dislike the cell phone, or the telephone. When compared to face to face communication all other forms are horrible ways of hiding behind distance and informality.

I knew this was coming. I mean knew as sure as the sun will rise. So why did I take it so badly? Why am sitting here now with a pit of empty in my stomach. It is as though I have sorrow that my lottery ticket turned out not to be a winner, when I knew it would not be when I purchased it. Why did this feel as bad as my first rejection at 13, when this clearly wasn't that kinda of relationship. We'd both said so.

Sure we called each other baby, and shared baby photos. I know her favorite flowers, got her tickets to see her favorite team play and more. It didn't mean anything.

Cause it didn't.

Barkeep. A water please. That's all.