The Breakup Chronicles: Part 2
First off, y’all are wonderful. Thank you for your outpouring of support. Sometimes we write just needing to get it out, and forget that people will have things to say. And what you did say to me meant more to me than I can express. You didn’t have to take the time to say a word, but you did, and it helped me a lot. Never double that your kind words in a tough time are doing so much for someone.
Things are still uncertain and who likes uncertainty? Not this girl. I had grand plans to talk to Francois about it – a little check in, if you will – but when we last chatted I was tired and worried that I wouldn’t be quite eloquent enough. So here we are. Breakup week the second, confusion week the second.
I’m determined not to text him (or, you know, at least until Saturday). Do you know how hard it is not to text? It’s like when you’ve had a drink or two, and you know you really shouldn’t drunk text but you do because it’s so fun! You’re so funny! People must love you! And then in the midst of that fun, when you’re trying to tell Grace one thing, you get drunk digits and instead ask her to milk you. You know. Awkward times. (For the record, I don’t remember what I meant to tell her, but it was most certainly not for her to milk me.) Right. Where were we? Oh yes… I’ve been getting mixed signals out the wazoo which feels great because it feeds that little bit of hope I have, but it’s crappy because it keeps him in my thoughts. And at the back of my mind I know that 99% of the time this sort of thing isn’t going to work out but those mixed signals are very powerful. You tell yourself that you might be the situation that works. It could be you! Which is all to say, if you see me with a cell in my hand this week, you have permission to yell, “KATE, STEP AWAY FROM THE PHONE.”
Here we are. Day 9. Here is what I’ve learned thus far:
When your bestie offers to drive in to see you? Take her up on it. Best friend therapy often can’t be topped and you’ll kick yourself for missing that needed time with her. True, you will probably talk her ears off but she’s a doctor and can sew them back on.
Hang out with people, no matter how much you want to wallow or stay glued to Facebook checking for signs of activity. (It’s unseemly the amount of time I’ve spent checking to see if he’s been active. Someone save me.) It’s very possible Francois will pull himself out of my life for good, but my friends aren’t leaving me anytime soon. In times like these they are especially supportive and say the kind of thoughtful things that make you cry not because of sadness, but because you’re not sure how you got lucky enough to have them in your life.
Wine is delicious.
Pathetic walks by the lake aside, exercise is healthy. Go on an extra long run but this time focus on overtaking the guy in front of you rather than checking the parking lots for signs of Francois. Admire the runner’s calves as you approach. Race past him. Feel victorious when you leave him in the dust. Round the corner so he can’t see you. Walk.
Hug your cats. I’m still missing the lazy mornings in bed with Francois but little furry gatos can be pretty comforting. I will be not ashamed of my cat lady status.
Listen to your mother:
I hope for Francois’ sake he realizes he’s being a dick. Because he is not going to find another Kate Hepburn. Sometimes guys need a hammer to the head. Just a little tap.
If things don’t work out, since you keep finding better and better guys, I think you should set your cap for…Prince Harry? Why not?
Also, two solid hours of dancing around in one’s underwear and lip syncing to Bruno Mars and Carole King is recommended. Not that I have experience with such a thing.