I had a breakthrough on Friday night. I decided to go to yoga because I remembered when Simon left last summer and I was so sad, I went to a class and literally, a light came shining down on me during boat pose and the muddy waters of my sadness cleared out and washed away. I realized why it would never have worked out with him and, just like that, I let him, the idea of him and my feelings for him go. Off into the ether.
Of course I got back together with him a few weeks later. But whatever. That was a learning experience.
Anyway. I went to yoga in search of similar understanding. There wasn’t one profound moment, though I was able to do camel pose for a few seconds, which I can never do because it’s a heart opener and my heart center is not easily opened—feels like I’m choking when I’m in the poses where it requires stretching out the chest and neck region. (The psychological term for this I believe is emotional unavailibility. And to think I’ve been pinning this on all the guys I date.)
Anyway, I felt more open than I had in a long time and was doing all sorts of heart openers and feeling powerful in my warrior pose. I ended the class with a sense of fulfillment and levity that I hadn’t felt in many moons. And my perspective about dating Phil—and what happened—changed.
I was able to look at it without so much emotion. And I saw clearly my 50 percent of the deal. I was pushing a square peg in a round hole with all my might. I wasn’t even looking to see if the peg would fit (or wanted to fit) or not. I was just taking running leaps into the peg to jam it into my version of a relationship. No wonder Phil literally turned on a dime and ran. Of course, he had a role in all of this, too. But that’s not my 50 percent to figure out. I can only be responsible for myself.
Still, I almost wanted to call him to apologize for being such a nut. But I know better than to reach out with a wimpy weird apology when I did nothing wrong. That would be more bizarre than Jeb calling about running shoes. The time to reach out to Phil is the time when I absolutely don’t want anything from him at all. It has to be a genuine pursuit of friendship not some sad attempt of working through what already happened.
But then I ran into him today. I kind of knew I would. He’s always at the coffee shop, and I wanted to work at the coffee shop. So I went. And he was there. And we talked. It was nice to see him, but it was a little hard to see him, though the hard part was more accommodating the change in how we relate to each other rather than me feeling all weepy like “I miss you so much why did you leave me?” (Of course, now I can’t remember how we ever related to each other. It already feels like a million years ago.) We’re just back to stranger acquaintances. It’s gonna be a little awkward.
So that’s over with. I feel relieved. Now when I run into him, it can be regular and not terribly strained.
Sure I’m still mildly confused. Maybe it’s just residual effects of the whiplash from being so thrown off, because this was one break up I didn’t really see coming. When you’re zooming down the highway at 80 (and with blinders on) singing Livin’ on a Prayer or something anthematic like that and someone throws open the door and shoves you out, there’s gonna be some pain. But in the end, it just doesn’t matter. I don’t need to pick through this last morsel of confusion to extrapolate a bunch of meaningless answers. I’d rather be eating my $12 brillat cheese with a couple cornichons. Mmmm. It just doesn’t matter. I think I finally get it. A little embarrassed that I had to go through three weeks of soul searching to get here…still, it just doesn’t matter.
And it calls to mind one of my favorite movie scenes of all time. Wouldn’t you know, you tube had it. (Bill Murray=hot. For serious.)