Wednesday, 5 January 2011

The story I told myself

When I talked with Tim in October 2010, I calmly explained to him that we could see more of each other if he was a willing participant, to which he replied, "I can't." I remember looking at his hands. Then, my imagination went wild.

He had said, "I can't," I decided, because his hands were turning into giant lobster claws. Red ones. No wonder he couldn't call me! Imagine trying to text with giant lobster claws for hands. You can't dial your cell phone either, or email. The poor dear. Imagine how long it took him to do his homework, and what if he needed to give his dog some medicine? Ah, the messes that would ensue. Poor Tim, with his big red lobster-claw hands. No wonder he was incapable of hanging out! Imagine if he wanted to pick up the check for dinner. How on earth could he get the credit card out of his wallet? OK, Tim, you win. You can't. I get it.

After I got his apology email, I was a little bit disappointed that his reasons weren't as colorful as the story I'd told myself. It was such a comfort in those 2 months of no contact to think of Tim (a regular-looking, brown-haired guy who generally wears sneakers) with those awesome claw hands. I wish I could draw a picture! It would be fun to share. Ah, well.

I know communication is important, and it is good to be in touch again- heck, maybe we'll both be better prepared to date someone in the future if we can work out some of our issues in a relationship autopsy- but I was a lot happier with my own story. Hearing from him reminds me of the fact that, really, I was ditched, and that is a drag.

Diva tells me that I need to figure out why I don't feel I deserve better. It's a long story, and one that I want to turn around so that my future years are brighter than my past years in that regard. I have some work ahead for me (and it's not making up stories).

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