There, I said it.
Monday I sent B an email. Didn’t talk about it here because I wasn’t really ready to face the fact that I had once again not made it very far in my “no contact” thing that I set up with myself. . . .
The email said:
I know you well enough to know that you don’t forget birthdays, at least not a friend’s birthday. I’m disappointed to learn you no longer consider me even a friend. You could have avoided any conversation, since that is your general M.O. nowadays, and left me a voice mail. But nothing? Were you afraid I’d get the wrong message? I remember you using that excuse before. You know I’m not stupid. Since you were the one who said we would still be friends, the only message I was looking for was your sincerity.
Tuesday. No response.
Wednesday morning when I got to work the little flashing light on my phone told me I had a voice mail. Hmmm. I listened to the little voice tell me it was from an unknown number and had come in at 9:13 p.m. That’s all I needed to hear to know it was B. I hung up.
I chose not to listen to it at that moment because I was on my way into a 3 hour committee meeting and I did not want to chance his message distracting me when there were other things that required my attention.
While it didn’t totally distract me, I did think about it while I sat in the meeting. I considered the options. I figured there was only one response he could give me that would be satisfactory — that would involve him saying “You’re right. I fucked up. Sorry. Hope you had a Happy Birthday.”
I listened at 12:30. It was a 5 minute message. He said a number of things. The highlights were “You are correct, I cannot refute anything you said in your email.” “I will always consider you more than a friend because of the deep feelings I have for you, and that’s the problem;” “I think of you regularly;” “I love you [PDX Running Chick], that will never change. But I guess I have to do it from afar.”
Hmmm. Sat with that for a bit. I’ll admit a tear or two went down my cheek. Hearing his voice. Hearing him say he loved me. Hearing him say he thought about me. Hearing the pain in his voice. Pain. That’s what I grabbed on to. I heard real honest pain in his voice.
It made me . . . . happy.
I Am Such a Bitch.