Forgive and Forget

Today with Kate and Emma in my car and cake and ice cream running through my system, I drove to Luke's house. I marched into his house and up the stairs and there he was...walking out of a room with his shirt off. He looked exhausted. I felt insecure but said quite frankly: "So you do exist."

I had planned to punch him in the face or kick him in the balls. Anything to cause him some portion of the pain that I've felt by his neglect. At first I froze like a deer in the headlights and then my rational mind took over.

i asked what the probability was that I would see him before he left for a week in Europe (notice I have absolutely no problem with him leaving for a week when I know about it ahead of time and don't feel like he's leaving me out of the loop). He told me about a possible party before he left and mentioned that he might be able to fit in a half hour lunch (his own suggestion). At this point I'm skeptical, especially of the lunch, because I don't want to get my hopes up.

This is a good...what? 100th start? Like I've said before, I'm nervous about attending his parties because i don't like being around a lot of people I don't know. I also never know who he has told what to about me and that makes me uncomfortable. It's important that I do it though (if it happens at all).

The question I hate most from his friends: So how do you know Luke?

What do I say? From Waynflete? That's the usual response, but then they ask about more recently...and I say "it's complicated." Then I feel like a failure as a woman because I haven't been able to get more from him and the expectations of women in this society to be part of a couple is horrendous.

I won't think about it unless it comes up.

Also, I know most of you don't understand why this keeps repeating and maybe you think my decision is stupid. I don't care though. I'm eternally optimistic. I adore the man. I have the capacity to forgive and forget...I guess love isn't rational.

And when it's good...it's so good. When it's great, I glow and nothing else can get me down. I know you've seen me like this. I'll skip down the street. I'll laugh and laugh and laugh.

I won't get ahead of myself though. He hasn't made up for the agony he put me through. Thinking and feeling like he was avoiding me and maybe never wanted to see me again...well it felt a bit like dying by knife wounds.

Believe me it's an exhausting experience. It left me wanting to sleep in my bed all day and I'm sure most of you wanted to strangle me at some point. But thank you for listening to me, understanding (or pretending to) and just putting up with it.

It pushed me though. I've thought about things and one of the conclusions I've come to is:

When he gets home from Europe, he needs to man up (in regard to me). I'm worth it (please and motherfucker for emphasis, but not in an angry manner).