I made a promise to myself to not contact Tony until next Friday, June 5.
My only reason was I do better when I have a goal / deadline, and it needed to be something that felt reasonable. There was no way I could wait three months, even though I know that’s likely the kind of time he needs. Of course, I didn’t want to face the fact that Tony, being who he is, was unlikely to contact me. Even the therapist agreed regardless of how deeply he feels for me or how much he misses me, he is not going to take action. I know this to be true, because the same applied to HIS CHILD.
All was well. I was feeling strong and positive I could make it until the 5th. My plan was to see him on the 5th if I could, knowing he would have made no progress whatsoever, and it would help me say goodbye for good.
Alas. I fucked up.
Friday night I had dinner at the house of some friends. The husband is one of Will’s oldest friends – they met when they were 11. The wife and I have gotten along famously since we met, and they’ve remained close to me even after the split (some people get weird; they didn’t). The husband shares the love of the sports team that Tony adores.
We talked about Tony; they wanted to know what happened. The husband suggested if I wanted to get Tony “back”, since the schedule for their team’s league is coming out shortly, he’d give me tickets to go see them in their home stadium and I could take Tony away for a weekend. It’s worth nothing he’s NEVER had that opportunity, and when I shared the possibility with him ages ago, he said it was the hottest thing I’d ever said to him.
So Tony was on my mind.
I drank way too much.
On my way home, I got sadder and sadder. I miss him so very much. There are so many things I’ve wanted to share with him these last two weeks. And I’m even sadder knowing he’s probably got his head so far up his ass, he doesn’t feel the same way.
I got home, brushed my teeth, took my makeup off, and crawled into bed. I stared at my phone. It was 11pm. I wanted to call him so bad. I debated back and forth and realised there was no chance he was going to pick up.
But, I called, and he did. He was half asleep. I said I missed him so much and had promised I wouldn’t call him but I wanted to talk to him. He said he missed me too and had a huge week of work and a big day on Saturday. He said he’d call me tomorrow (Saturday).
I said “suuuuure”. We hung up.
I woke up so mad at myself. I knew he wouldn’t call (he rarely did; he’s bad at over promising and under delivering). But now I wanted him to call. Had I not done it, while I would still miss him and be occasionally angry he hasn’t reached out, it wouldn’t consume my thoughts.
Of course, he didn’t call. I would have be shocked if he had.
I wanted to leave it alone. But I couldn’t. Early Sunday morning, I sent a text:
I’m going to chalk up your not calling yesterday to perhaps you forgetting we spoke late Friday night. I had just wanted to tell you I miss you insanely and hope you are doing well and sorting things out.
I knew he hadn’t forgotten. But I was angry. At least I didn’t say what was really in my head: you fucking asshole, how typical you couldn’t find even 10 minutes for me in over 30 hours. Get your head out of your ass.
Thanks. I didn’t forget. I’m just pretty drained right now. It’s been a rough week so I took on more work then I should have – don’t have time for much else right now. Friday was a long day – you caught me already asleep.
That made me more angry and hurt. But I wasn’t surprised – probably the worst thing of all. A part of me wants to say – fuck him, that’s it, forget reaching out next week. I’m done. I want to be done. But I know what I probably need is to feel more pain to really walk away – and that will happen face-to-face when he says yet again he doesn’t know what he wants.
My Dad’s voice, strangely enough, was in my head as I thought about what to say in return: “choose the action that gets you the outcome you desire”. As angry as I am, I know that Tony doesn’t intend to hurt me. Lobbing angry words in a text will just shut him down. So, I went with something perhaps bitchy or passive aggressive, but honest:
I’ve crafted several different responses in my head and none accurately reflect the whole of what I want to say… but they all included “sorry you had a rough week and I hope things get better”, so I will leave it at that. Take care of yourself Tony.
There is no doubt in my mind I will not hear back. Next week I’m likely to torture myself further by asking to see him at the end of the week, finding out nothing has changed, and then perhaps be done.
It’s moments like this where I really want to get back online. I want a boyfriend at times. I want someone to wake up with on a weekend morning. I want someone who can truly be engaged in my life. But I will use my friends, my child, and the kudos I’m getting right now on FetLife – as shallow as they are – to keep me occupied.
Trying to change is a real bitch.