I'm in love.
Both of us were in love with each other. Both of us fell out. We broke up. Lots of things happened in between. New apartments, other relationships, jobs. Now I am gainfully employed, enrolled in UCLA's Master Class Writing Program, slicing away at my novel, furiously writing the second one, prancing around my new apartment that he doesn't know, reading books, eating trail mix bars and planning my best friend's bachelorette party (molecular gastronomy, pedis and champagne, pole dancing party just the girls, big night out, delicious drunken brunch the next day).
I am busy.
Working extra hours at my magazine job. Working late in my music job. Going to dance classes. Weekends away. Catching up on doctor appointments, picking out recipes for dinner parties, planning concerts, still organizing my newish dwelling and exploring the bars and restaurants of my new hood. Reconnecting with old friends, finding new ones wherever I go. I have stopped dating for sport because I don't have time. Somehow, who knows how, I still get asked out on a semi-regular basis. But I've been saying no and soft-shoeing.
I don't want to date.
My books are my boyfriend. For the first time in my life, I really do not have a man and it feels very exhilarating. I sleep when I want, I go home when I want, I wear dresses and sweatshirts together as I lounge around my apartment, order extra dessert and a glass of wine, work out at odd times, wake up at 8 AM to read, take Sunday naps, have my girlfriends sleep over, talk on the phone all night long, write letters to family, send flowers to my aunt, twist up the comforter and use all the pillows with the space heater firmly pointed towards me and me alone while the window is open letting the wintry chill come blowing in.
And yet, I am in love.
I am in love with my ex and it feels great. I have no idea if we will get back together. There was a time when I thought definitely not. But now, somehow, without my permission, I am in love with him. Maybe it will pass. Maybe it will not. But for now, I get so excited when I see a text from him, think about seeing him, hear his voice. I'm not going to tell him. I couldn't possibly. We didn't end all that well and he has a lot of pain and so do I. Well, I think I've let go of mine. In the meantime, I check my phone and jump up and down like a Jack In The Box when he contacts me. I walk around singing the tunes in my iPod. We don't have plans, we don't have a date, we don't have anything. I'm still absolutely and utterly in love with him.
I'm not really sure how this works. In new, fluttering infatuation and love? With an I-never-care-to-see-you-again-ex? Who I'm not even dating at the moment? All very confusing. Only a crazy person like me would find herself in this position. I figure there's no point in doing anything about it. My life is perfect, just the way it is, without him really being in it too much. If it's meant to be I will just have to have faith. Perhaps he will come to me. Maybe he will be ready to someday. Maybe the shimmer that has come over me is so great, is so powerful, that I can aim it on him from afar and blow it in a big whoosh and have it whip him in the face. And perhaps then he will ask me out again. If he does, I will say yes immediately.
Until then? I don't know how to be in love. It's confusing as all hell. But it feels good, and so, I won't be rocking this (I am totally bananas) boat.
I'll keep you updated should anything change. For now, I'm off to look at old pictures of us while taking up all the room possible in my bed, just the way I like it, which is leaving no room for him in there at all.