The Juicer

This is the one thing Phil left behind. We didn’t have much time to really accumulate stuff. He had my movie. I had his juicer. He let me borrow it when I started on a juice kick and I juiced for a week before it started to make me gag. (Symbolic of relationship break down? Probably not, but fun to pretend.) I’ve been wanting to give it back him since the day I called him so he could dump me. His response has been that he can get it later or whenever. But that’s just not okay with me.

I finally put it in a grocery bag and dumped it in my trunk because it made me mad and sad to look at on my counter. Attaching emotion to small appliances is not healthy, but I think that’s a natural outcome for any belongings that get left behind in a break up. My mom suggested keeping it like I did the leather jacket from one of the guys I dated in high school (ice skater – was possibly gay). But I just don’t want it. I don’t want it around at all. I want it out and I feel strongly about wanting it out. And it bugs me that Phil does not feel strongly about getting it back. Part of me thinks he’s letting me hold on to it just to keep a connection, like this blog suggests.

“If you Jane are dumped by Jack; and Jack takes everything from your home but leaves several items behind; Jane, Jack will be back and more than likely is only following thru because he does not know how to stop. He is caught up in his emotional movement and is not sure if he is making the right decision, so Jack will leave something(s) behind as an excuse to come back in the future.

Likewise this theory can also be attached to Visa bills, telephones etc., if the person is serious and they mean what they are doing they will take each and every belonging of theirs from you. They will cut each and every tie. The weak ones are the people who do not completely scrub down the so-called crime scene, they leave some attachment there because they are not completely comfortable with the decision they have made.”

Or maybe Phil really just doesn’t care about the fucking juicer. Whatever. I drove the damn thing over to Phil’s tonight to get it out of my life. I need that clean break—to remove all signs.

This realization of needing the juicer out of my life came today when I was working at Tryst and Phil showed up. It was bound to happen – the run in. It was nice to see him. And hard. We ended up sitting together because I said it was ok. A terrible idea. But I also wanted to see how it felt to be near him. I was comforted. And at the same time I was totally on edge. I could barely breathe and my forearms kept prickling. And at the same time, it was a relief not to have to waste energy wondering where he was and who he was with. It’s so hard to recover from having someone so available to you and checking in with you and this constant part of your life to absolutely just nothing at all without any real explanation. (Still having a hard time with that one.)

Yeah, so after the forearm prickling settled down, it was fine — except for the part when I was sure he was IMing someone he’d met and was already dating. This led to terrible prickling/burning in my stomach and my brain, and then the realization that he is not at all phased by not being with me anymore, that he never really was that into me. Which makes me wonder why I’m so undone. And how did I ever get so involved with someone who didn’t like me back? Though I know I didn’t imagine our instant relationship that he had a very large role in creating (and then pulling away from). Still a little bitter. Still a little mad. I actually read in one of the dating books I have stacked in the middle of my apartment that moving too fast into a relationship is a big old red flag. And actually, I knew this, but I kinda thought this time was different.

A friend recommeded the book “Women Who Love Too Much.” My mom tried to give this to me 10 years ago. I got mad. Maybe she was right. Clearly something more is going on here than Phil. I’m getting the book.


2 responses to “The Juicer

  1. i think what the someone failed to mention is that the paper you write his name on to burn is supposed to be a rolling paper. duh.

  2. The Single Scientist

    nope, regular paper. but I burned it in my bong.

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