I'm not blindsided very often by anything. I'm usually good enough to be able to see the currents and eddies and read the wind before the tornado starts ripping through my life; and more often I'm the force of nature in other people's lives, not they in mine.

This past week has been the exception to the rule. I am just now starting to feel less dizzy, poking my head out to say, "what now?"

It started out well enough--I came back from the coast, had a lovely date on Tuesday, and took Chris out to dinner for his birthday on Wednesday. I did really enjoy myself, even though there were a couple of awkward moments with Chris during dinner--I chalked it up to the fact that we hadn't actually talked in a week.

See, I'd had a hard conversation with Chris the week before about the new things that are in my life, and he'd told me he needed space to figure things out. So I gave him that space, understanding totally. But we'd had dinner scheduled for a couple of weeks, so we went.

Well, after dinner, Chris and I went back to my house, and say down and started talking.

He did a lot of talking. I did a lot of listening.

It boils down to this yearly cycle that we go through--fine for six months, and then distant for six--isn't working for him. That, of course, is putting it exceedingly mildly.

I've had people say more hurtful things to me in my life than he said to me that night, but it's been a while since I've been the object of such focused vitriol. Chris seemed to be intent on unloading all of the resentment and pain that he'd been experiencing onto me, and said some things that really did flirt with the "unforgivable" line.

I understood that he was trying to burn his bridges with me. And, hard as it was not to get defensive, hard as it was not to go on the counterattack--I held steady. Accepting. Taking my richly-deserved lumps.

Because, yes, I have to admit that I've been acting selfishly, and in my own best interest. And I couldn't have done anything else and still remained sane. I don't apologize for anything I've done, but I am sorry that it hurt him so badly.

In the end, there were tears and hugs. And the place where our bond was in me was burned and shielded away.

I feel...decidedly odd. It's not hurting nearly as much as it was; it's now mostly a dull ache in me. I'd released my end of the bond months ago, which helps a bit. But I'm still off-balance, getting used to him not being there.

And, in large part, I'm really rather baffled by the whole thing. I feel like every single one of my actions for the past few months has been misinterpreted, as if I were speaking French but he thought I was speaking Spanish. I thought we were at least vaguely on the same page, relationship-wise--I'd thought we had a friends with benefits situation that allowed for some flux in how close we were.

And I remember some of the things he said to me and recognize their essential truths at the same time I disagree with what he said they mean. How could someone who knows me so well and loves me so dearly (and I am not in doubt about either of those two things) have so completely missed the point of the things I was doing?

For my part, how could I have missed the resentment building? I have been obviously blind to some very important things over the past few months.

But I realize that this was necessary. We've been an essential part of each others' lives for four years; it's time for that phase of our lives to end. He has to grow beyond me and I beyond him. He needs to find a relationship that's actually good for him, and he won't find that as long as he's attached to me.

I know this with my head, but my heart has been hit by the tidal wave and spun around, and is just now climbing to its feet and scratching its head and wondering what the hell just happened.

And I sit with the hurt and the empty space, and ask, "What do I do with this?"

And the answer is, "nothing."

I'm not sure what comes next. Eventually, we'll start talking again. Then--I'm not sure what.

We'll see.


But at the same time something old has ended, something new has begun. In fact, it was this something new that sparked that conversation with Chris.

A friendship of long standing has blossomed into something other than what it was. I'm not actually sure how I want to explain this, because it's so new and none of the words seem right quite yet. For the moment, let me just say that I'm now seeing both halves of an already-existing couple, and together and seperately we have truly delicious energy. New Relationship Energy abounds; I'd almost forgotten how much fun NRE can be, after you've dispensed with the nervousness of the very beginning.

I trust both of them. And that in itself is incredibly precious.

They're one of the major reasons that I've been as okay as I am this past week. Never underestimate the power of lots of snuggling to heal up a bruised heart.

But yet again, I was completely blindsided. I knew something was going to change, some things would end and others would begin. The sense of impendingness wrapped me within itself and let me know that I needed to keep my eyes open, but gave me no details about what was going to happen. There are places I absolutely never expected to ever be, and this is one of them.

I couldn't have predicted this if I'd tried. I've no idea where we'll end up; the relationship(s) will eventually find all of their own levels. But I'm just amazed I'm here in the first place.


It's odd that happiness is so much harder for me to write about than unhappiness. I could go on and on about this sensation that I've been loosed just a little bit from the pull of gravity, and the strange feeling that I am suspended halfway between earth and heaven. I could write about how fascinated I am by the energy that flows around and through us.

But I think that may be for later. For now, I think I'm going to fall a bit silent, heal my heart, and enjoy what there is.

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